Love and Marriage

 

I found this quote recently from Mere Christianity by C. S. Lewis. I wanted to put it into my blog so that some day, when the time is right, I can share it with my daughter. There is so much truth here, as always there seems to be when C.S. Lewis' recorded his thoughts and ideas.

Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also many things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go. And in fact, whatever people say, the state called “being in love” usually does not last. If the old fairy-tale ending “They lived happily ever after” is taken to mean “They felt for the next fifty years exactly as they felt the day before they were married,” then it says what probably was never was or ever could be true, and would be highly undesirable if it were. Who could bear to live in that excitement for even five years? What would become of your work, your appetite, your sleep, your friendships? But, of course, ceasing to be “in love” need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense — love as distinct from “being in love” is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit; reinforced by (in Christian marriages) the grace which both parents ask, and receive, from God. They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when each would easily, if they allowed themselves, be “in love” with someone else. “Being in love” first moved them to promise fidelity: this quieter love enables them to keep the promise. It is on this love that the engine of marriage is run: being in love was the explosion that started it.

Cowgirl

The ride cost just two quarters. I dug one from my purse and her Grandad had another in his pocket.  At first she wasn't sure she was going to enjoy it. Her expression was pensive.  The horse bucked and pitched as the William Tell overture played.  Eventually a smile broke out on her face. As she adjusted to the reins and the ride and began to giggle. By the end of the ride, she was holding on with one hand. And then there was the fist pump. Not coached or urged at all by spectator grandparents.  She didn't asked to ride a second time. We could have gotten change. Maybe another time and another horse. She came to enjoy this ride but fist pump aside, by the end she'd had enough.

the last weekend of september

 

Perfect weather
cousins playing outside
pretending to be flower fairies
playing with matchbox cars
fall decorations
salsa making
and best of all
going to church to
worship

walking home from church

The church we attend is just up the street. The walk is not long... unless a little girl needs to stop and chase butterflies. Then it might take a but longer than usual...

 

 

Decorating for Fall

This weekend we pulled out our fall decorations and began to arrange foliage and berries and pumpkins and gourds, real and imitation, together into vases and baskets and place them throughout the house in celebration of the coming of fall!

 

 

some cousins and a puppy

 

The first Spring and Summer after we moved from Texas to Oklahoma my baby daughter and her cousin, Kassidy were inseparable.  They played with the puppy, rode on his four wheeler, built forts in the woods. Within days of her residence she was covered with poison ivy.
He was just next door so their mutual fun was not too far away. They swam several times a day, ran and played the way his mother and I did when we were kids. Two other cousins from not too far away joined the fun as often as it could be managed. I remember it as an idyllic summer for them. I hope they remember it that way, too.

Okie

We had just moved from the city to the country. The baby daughter, though enamored of the closeness to relatives was still adjusting to the new locale and missing her friends.
We ran an family errand. My sister asked that we run by the  pet store to buy crickets for my nephew to feed to his lizard. the baby daughter fell in love with the dog.
It was a lab mix sooner puppy. She was certain it needed to go home with us. In a weak moment, I agreed.
We named her Okie for the Sooner state-- her being a sooner and all and us as well.
The trouble started immediately.
The dog howled through the night for nights on end.
What mischief it could not find it made.
I thought to enjoy its company as I unpacked boxes and got us settled into the new house but I seemed to spend more time picked up and cleaning up after the puppy than anything else.
I bought a crate and a training book. I put both to immediate use.
The puppy was so unhappy with being in the crate that it bloodied its paws scratching to get out. The vet patched it up and said the puppy seemed to have an attachment disorder. He said it was overly attached to me. Egads.
I told the baby daughter that it was time she took over the care of "her" pet. I have blogged before about how that has worked out for me whenever I have tried to make this happen.
The trouble continued and grew as the puppy did.
We were constantly having to retrieve her from the pool and the hot tub.
We got a pen for the yard so that she would not drown.
That's where she almost had a heat stroke when during a church event held at our house her stayed out of the shade; barking at the youth who attended.
When she started running toward the street every time we let her out of the pen, something had to give. Because the puppy had attached itself to the stone mason, who had spent more than a little time outside at our home doing rock and brick work, and his son/apprentice and because they lived on a huge farm, we were persuaded to let her go live with them.
We had only recently lost Disney to the roadway. None of us were in any mood to lose another pet in the same way.
Little did we know...

A Dalmatian named Disney

A real Dalmatian! That was what my children wished for.
It started with the boy when he was in preschool and his class visited the fire department.
Over time he convinced his sisters that a "Dalmatian Dog" was just what our family needed.
I blogged previously about his homemade Dalmatian and the time he spray painted the family pet to create his own.
Their wish came true when they were given a sweet Dalmatian named Disney by a cousin who lived on a golf course where a dog at play was not favored.
She settled right into the family as we were known to her already and our yard facilitated her playful nature in a way the golf course backyard had not.
She moved to Dallas with us and was happy in her own little world until we had the area around the pool landscaped. When the fence came down, the dog went out. She never stayed inside the fence if she could help it after.
I went after her repeatedly until that day when there was no her to go after. Telling the children she's been run over was one of the hardest things I've had to do.

Grandma tendencies

My paternal Grandmother was born in 1906. By the time the Great Depression came around she was old enough to be profoundly impacted by it, like many of her generation.
It meant she was green before being green was stylish. Of necessity and then out of habit, I expect.
She reused everything. One thing she did was make grocery lists, etc., on the backs of receipts and small sacks.
I was reminded of that  this weekend when I found the sack my grandbaby had gotten a donut in with all manner of drawings and doodlings on it. Grandma would be so proud that her great-grandchild is reusing a sack, particularly one from Fred's Daylight Donuts, for her artwork.
My grandbaby has always had drawing tablets and sketch pads, coloring books at her disposal. That she would choose to draw on the back of a sack just tickles me. And makes me think her Great-great-grandma.
Later in the day we went to my Mom's for a family dinner. There my grandbaby played outside for hours with her just younger cousin who is named for Grandma. This particular of her progeny carries not just her name but many, many of her tendencies and expressions.
I wondered, as I watched them play, if she was not just an awful lot like them when she was a little girl playing on her family's farm in Arkansas. Should they grow up to possess other of her tendencies, life will be fun for them and interesting for the rest of us.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

A Merry Heart

 On Wednesday of this week, I had the opportunity to hang out with my sisters... my eldest daughter, my mom, and various other relatives. It was rather unexpected. My schedule opened up unexpectedly.
I took the opportunity to head straight for the bosom of my family.
We found, as we always seem to,  many reasons to laugh. Chief among these was that my sisters have been sending "Your Mama" jokes to my baby daughter at law school.
From before lunch until almost bed time, I was with one or more of them. I later texted the sisters and told them that time with them is like good medicine. And it is. In no small part because they make my heart merry!
 

 

another dog lover

 

The grandbaby's family on the other side are cat people. More than a few of the family on our side are allergic to cats. We are dog people, if we are animal people at all. And we have made a dog person out of the Grandbaby.
Not to say that she doesn't love cats, too. She still mourns the loss of her beloved cat, Casper. The day her mom got her a kitten in an attempt to fill that void remains one of the happiest days of her life.  But the girls loves our dogs, too.
Recently we had pictures taken of her at our house. I wanted a portrait done before she loses her baby teeth and her looks change therefrom. She insisted that her favorite of our canines, whose name is Bella, be photographed with her.
I've just seen the proofs and they are darling. The photos of her with that dog bear the sweetest expressions on her sweet face.
This weekend I was looking for her and found her in the breakfast room, where she had set up a vet clinic/grooming parlor for the dogs. In the picture above she is lettering a sign to hand above their well worn dog beds where she hoped to lure them into playing with her. They love her, too. Even to the point of playing vet and dog parlor with her. At least up to a point!

Blossom

My little son wanted a dog.
He and the son of our across the street neighbors talked of little else for months. One Saturday morning their fathers left on an "errand" and returned home with puppies.
Both boys were elated. Both moms were less than elated. We both knew who would do a lot of the taking care of the canines.
We called our puppy "Blossom." She was a cute thing with a sweet disposition that followed her into her adulthood. She and her young master were constant companions and best friends.
She was exceedingly tolerant of him.
So much so that when his preschool class went to the fire station and he became enthralled with the "firedog" he came right home and made himself a homemade Dalmatian.
That she would stand still long enough for a little boy to paint white spots with a spray paint can all over her is amazing.  I inquired of our veterinarian about what we should do as soon as I was witness his handiwork. "It shouldn't hurt her at all," he told me, "but it's going to be a long time growing off." He chuckled before he we hung up. It was not funny to me at the time but since then we told the story over and over, finding it more funny with each telling.

Blossom raised a single litter of puppies but it was a huge one. She made a good mother to her pretty little offspring. She was the undisputed queen of our yard, even when several of them got big enough to challenge her position. They ultimately were place in new homes that the children themselves approved.
She continued to be a perfect pet for a rough and tumble little boy and the sisters on either side of him. She continues, these years later, to hold a special place in his heart and in all of ours.

finding fun

The setting: a local restaurant
The characters: Me, the Hub, the Grandbaby
The problem: food taking too long
The solution: an orange(!)


"I am so hungry" she said. A full day of first grade followed by dance class would make a six year old tired and hungry. I began looking around for something to make the wait a little easier for all of us. When I remembered an orange in my purse, intended for a snack that day but never eaten, I quickly found it to be just the thing! The Hub (aka Gwandad) said "let's see if I can peel this for you all in one peeling." And he did.
Anticipation/diversion? check!
She ate a piece or two and then, obviously rejuvenated, began to use the intended source of nutrition for further diversion/distraction source of entertainment.
Now I know the old adage about playing with your food. I've hurt it from my Mama (aka Granny) about a million times.  But in this case it was necessary. It was also terribly funny. That I took photos means I needed a little entertainment and distraction at that point myself!
At the top of my shopping list this week: oranges!
 

 

weekend highlights

 

I did go to the high school football game Friday night to watch one grandbaby cheer and another dance. Had a nice chat with my brother-in-law who was one of the commentator/announcers for the media. Ate a frito pie. Stayed until after half time. Survived all of it nicely.
Saturday morning, the baby daughter who came home for the weekend made a sumptuous salsa. We went a few streets over to purchase lemonade from a couple of cuties who happen to be the grandchildren of a friend/coworker. The Hub smoked a pork roast which made it through dinner Saturday night and into lunch the next day after church.
These are small and simple things but they are also the stuff a really fabulous weekend is made of in my world.

Football

I attended one half of one football game last Saturday.
 It was hot. I made it to halftime.
The Hub, most of my family and many of my friends are several games up on me.
I don't care as much as I should.
I am not the football fanatic some of them are to start with.
I gave away a ticket to a game between my alma mater and a team from a town where I lived for many years. One of the players for the visiting team is a close family friend. I was invited to tailgate and politely declined.
Tonight, my first grader grandbaby cheers pregame at the local high school game and her sister, who is a freshman dances at half time. I cannot bow out. I don't want to. But it is hot.
As I get older the heat is harder for me to handle.
Unlike the other games my family and friends I did not attend this one is not optional.
I must endure, this time, beyond the first half.
I'll let you know how it goes.

Tiger

My eldest daughter was three or so, when her Uncle, who had previously been notorious only for getting her M&M's and Icees got her a dog. As I write this, I find there is more I do not know about the dog than I do know.
His name was Tiger. I say his because I am pretty sure Tiger was a "he" but I am not even completely sure about the dog's gender. I seem to recall that he had stripes and that is why she named him Tiger.
She still talks about him, some 30 years later. He was, after all, her first real pet.
I am not sure where Uncle got him, whether he found hmi, bought him, picked him up at the pound. I suspect the latter, since Uncle was a senior in college at the time and now exactly flush with funds to spend on a pet for a niece, even a much loved one.
Tiger stayed in the yard. He was quite happy to, mostly. The yard was large and there were pretty of comfy spots, including one under the house where he could curl up.
That is where he was the last time I remember seeing him, curled up in his comfy spot under the edge of the porch. We were leaving for the holidays we left food and water for Tiger. A neighbor was going to check on him while we were gone and replenish his supply.
It's funny that my child asked me several times, throughout our time away, whether I thought Tiger was alright.
 "What if he is afraid or lonely," she asked.
I assured her and reassured her that he was fine.
What if his comfy spot wasn't warm enough or comfy enough, she wondered.
Then he will find a warmer more comfortable one, I told her.
I hope that is what happened. I hope he found a spot he found more comfortable and stayed there. That is what I want to imagine. I've experienced some pet tragedies and I do not want this to have been one.
I have to imagine because, again, I do not know for sure. What I do know is that when we arrived back home Tiger was not to be found. We checked with the neighbor immediately, who reported no contact with the little dog for a bit. It had not been so long that they were concerned.
We began to search. We searched until it became evident that there was no new place to search. Then we began to wait for Tiger to return on his. He did not.
My daughter still insists we should have taken him with us and will not hear that it was not possible to have done so. I still feel guilty at times about the whole deal.
And that is the next story in the line of stories about our family pets.
The next one is at least funnier.

Cadeau

When  were newly married  the Hub bought a puppy for me. Everyone else in his family had a poodle and it seemed to be the thing to do.
He likely thought to stave off babyitis, which was necessary as we were still in school.
The puppy came via a flyer posted at the groomer where one day when it fell to us to pick up the other family poodles.
She was a cute little thing. Well pedigreed, somewhat neurotic. We named her Cadeau.
We lived, at that time, in a four room cottage owned by the Hub's grandmother. The house had formerly been used as rental property. Our friends dubbed it "the love cottage."
We were happy with her and she with us, at least initially.  Then she outgrew us. The love cottage was too small and our lives to busy for her personality.
She eventually went to live with some relatives in the country who'd kept her for us when we'd gone out of town a few times. They'd grown to love her and she them and their lives were more conducive to her happiness.
I am almost ashamed to admit that I didn't really miss her much after she'd gone. She had become so miserable that we were miserable for and with her.
And so goes the story of the first pet shared by the Hub and I.
It would be years before there was another.

Shorty

I have written here before that I am not a dog lover and that I never have been.
My conduct toward the canines living with me would contradict the first part of that statement. Recent conversation with my mother would contradict the second part.
I was asking her about our childhood pet,  a blonde cocker spaniel named Shorty.
The first thing she said to me about him is,"you loved that dog. And he loved you." So there ya go. I was a dog lover from as early as anyone remembers. Contrary to my own beliefs and statements to the contrary.
There are no photos of Shorty that I can find. My middle sister and I discussed what we recollect him looking. Our memories are comparable.
He was a country dog. He stayed outside and had the run of the five acres we lived on. The only time I ever remember him coming inside was when it stormed. He hated thunder and lightening but wasn't scared of much else.
He certainly had no fear of the big caged dogs that lived next door. That was his undoing.
At some point, when I was seven or eight, he took on not one but several of the big boys and lost. The elderly couple next door tried to save him but without success.
I went with Daddy to get him at their house. He was pulled in out little wagon to the spot under the hill that became his final resting place.
I named he "Shorty" when he and I were young because it was the nickname an uncle had given me. I am short. My puppy was, too. But he had no idea that he was not as big as the other dogs living nearby. In his mind he was a big dog. These days he looms large in my memory.

The Fam at a Saturday Morning Football Game

It is always a blast when my fun family gets together; regardless of the reason. This time it was an elementary school football game. There was picnicking and game playing, hugs, kisses, some sideline coaching. The only thing that would have made it better is if it had not been so hot. Funny to think that by the end of the season we'll likely be fighting the cold. Before it was time to go, though, that didn't sound so bad to me!
 

 

pet phrases

"Y'all always run things in the ground," one of my more quiet and laid back and nephews has said. And it's true. We latch onto certain phrases and can't seem to let go. Some of them only we know the origin of and meaning behind. Others, we are not sure of where they came from or what they even mean. So why do we use them?
Good question.
I'm not sure.

Take: "for crying out loud?!" It's one the phrases I use most often yet I have no real idea what it means.

The same with "good gravy" and "good grief." Most all gravy is good, as far as I'm concerned but I am not sure any grief, so why do we say it?
I am going to collect a list of these pet phrases as I hear them and try to find their meaning. Just to educate myself. (and maybe a bit for entertainment value!)

even more favorites

Thinking on favorites again today.
This time I am not offering disclaimer or explanation.
Just saying simply that I love:

• rosehips and hypericum berries
• silver luggage tag jewelry
• MacKenzie Child's Courtly Check
• Burl Ives songs
• monogrammed anything
• blue willow china
• My Ipad
• plaid, especially tartan
• scrapbooking
• old photos

If I have listed these previously, this is prove that I really, really love those things.
That is all. For now.

summer days

It's over. Officially. Completely. By most every account, Summer 2013 is a thing of the past.
I have enjoyed it. Some things in particular. Namely:

• watermelon
• sliced tomatoes
• cherries
• cucumbers marinating in a mason jar
• lullaby cicadas
•  vacation
• family reunions

Those things help sum up what I love about summer.

Just as those things that meant summertime to me as a child, are still fondly recollected.
Namely:

• Camping out on the Fourth of July at the Baron Fork of the Illinois River with my paternal grandparents .
• Going to Marble Falls, Texas from my maternal grandparents lake house in Kingston to see the Rattle Snakes in the window of a hardware store.
• water skiing at the lake to three dog night music
• taking turns sitting on  a towel placed atop an old school ice cream freezer while Daddy cranked the handle.
• lighting sparklers and black cats, lady fingers and smelly "snakes"
• perpetual barefeet except when wearing flip flops

The and now:

• I love watching lightening bugs,
• the sound of kids pulled behind a boat on a tube
• bug vine on the fence and day lilies along the fence row
• time in the garden (though nowadays its my little bitty kitchen garden rather than my grandparent's huge vegetable garden or my grandmother's flower garden.

Vay cay

Now that I've had two weeks to reflect upon my two week vacation, I have discovered that I had an even better time than I knew. Especially in the light of the post vacation work load.

Altogether, I:

• attended a family reunion
• scrapbooked with grandbaby
• had lunch with my long lost and wayward son who shows definite signed of improvement
• did some much needed yard work
• did some quilting
• hosted cousins camp
• watched two seasons worth of a made-for-tv drama
• made some cool labels
• did some embroidery
• ate at two of my favorite Mexican food places in the world
• spent time with some of my favorite people in the world
• finally had long overdue meeting of several darling family members
• saw my granddaughter off on her first day of first grade
• made jewelry making with my baby daughter

And those are just the high points!
I can hardly wait for the week I am taking off between Christmas and New Year's! I doubt I can fit in as much productivity and fun in that time as I did my summer time off, but I surely intend to try!

Grown up shopping

This is what my Facebook status message said yesterday:
"Today is kind of a big day for me rite of passage wise!
I'm going shopping with my daughter in non-loud music stores!"
Regarding my excitement I should  explain that I have spent way too much in small shops with loud music and long lines. That my daughter now prefers More subdued shops and shopping makes me very happy.
I will admit that Talbot's, Brooks Brothers are still pretty much too stodgy for her tastes. I am still  the only one of us who likes places where one hears the likes of Ella Fitzgerald.
But I can take Florence and the Machine and Adele all day long over what we used to hear while we shopped for her clothes.
Now here's a bigger surprise: we actually agreed on many of the things she ended up with. Some of them, I picked out for her and took to her in the dressing room. This was a thing unheard of not so long ago.
She ended up with everything she had on her list for school and work but a bag for her books and computer. At one point, as we looked into a case of watches, I asked "do you like the tortoise shell or mother-of-pearl finishes?"
When she said, "Both!" I had just one response. "Me, too!"
We agreed on many things. Most things, even. Right down to the shoes she bought.