Happy Birthday, Abigail!

Twelve years ago today, the cutest, sweetest, chubbiest baby was born. I instantly fell in love with her. She has blessed my life in so many ways. I love you, Absie.

Second Thought for the Day....from my brain

How in the world do cough medicine producers get away with saying "PLEASANT FLAVOR" on the sides of their bottles? You have got to be kidding!

Thought for the Day....from my calendar

Just think of all the wonderful blessings you've been given. Chocolate, dark chocolate, chocolate truffles . . .

The Joys of Medication

This is me.

This is me on drugs.

I'm just sayin'.....well, I would say if I could string a coherent sentence together. Wate...I htnik i jsut did. Hmm...Wil re turn 2 blog win brane cmes bak.

Twenty-OneDerful Years

Cake and flowers...you don't need much more than that to have an anniversary. We celebrated big time tonight watching Abigail's volleyball game and then eating out with the family at Chapp's.

As usual, I was trying to think of something clever to post about marriage, or husbands, or something like that. The only thing I could come up with after looking at this picture, taken tonight was....Man, I look tired! Jeff, ever the loving husband, said, "Well, you are, aren't you?" Funny guy.

The other thing I thought...boy, that's witty, "thing I thought"....was that marriage is better after all these years than it's ever been. Yes, it's hard work, but definitely worth it. It's a little like Honey and Salt. And, wouldn't you know it? That's the name of the Carl Sandburg poem that brought Jeff Holmes and Genny Martin together all those years ago. Someday I'll tell you that story...but tonight, here's a little something to get you started. I'm going to bed. I obviously need the rest. I'm looking a little worn around the edges.

Honey and Salt
Carl Sandburg

A bag of tricks—is it?
And a game smoothies play?
If you’re good with a deck of cards
or rolling the bones—that helps?
If you can tell jokes and be a chum
and make an impression—that helps?
When boy meets girl or girl meets boy—
what helps?
They all help: be cozy but not too cozy:
be shy, bashful, mysterious, yet only so-so:
then forget everything you ever heard about love
for it’s a summer tan and a winter windburn
and it comes as weather comes and you can’t change it:
it comes like your face came to you, like your legs came
and the way you walk, talk, hold your head and hands—
and nothing can be done about it—you wait and pray.
Is there any way of measuring love?
Yes but not till long afterward
when the beat of your heart has gone
many miles, far into the big numbers.
Is the key to love in passion, knowledge, affection?
All three—along with moonlight, roses, groceries,
givings and forgivings, gettings and forgettings,
keepsakes and room rent,
pearls of memory along with ham and eggs.
Can love be locked away and kept hid?
Yes and it gathers dust and mildew
and shrivels itself in shadows
unless it learns the sun can help,
snow, rain, storms can help—
birds in their one-room family nests
shaken by winds cruel and crazy—
they can all help:
lock not away your love nor keep it hid.
How comes the first sign of love?
In a chill, in a personal sweat,
in a you-and-me, us, us two,
in a couple of answers,
an amethyst haze on the horizon,
two dance programs criss-crossed,
jackknifed initials interwoven,
five fresh violets lost in sea salt,
birds flying at single big moments
in and out a thousand windows,
a horse, two horses, many horses,
a silver ring, a brass cry,
a golden gong going ong ong ong-ng-ng,
pink doors closing one by one
to sunset nightsongs along the west,
shafts and handles of stars,
folds of moonmist curtains,
winding and unwinding wisps of fogmist.

How long does love last?
As long as glass bubbles handled with care
or two hot-house orchids in a blizzard
or one solid immovable steel anvil
tempered in sure inexorable welding—
or again love might last as
six snowflakes, six hexagonal snowflakes,
six floating hexagonal flakes of snow
or the oaths between hydrogen and oxygen
in one cup of spring water
or the eyes of bucks and does
or two wishes riding on the back of a
morning wind in winter
or one corner of an ancient tabernacle
held sacred for personal devotions
or dust yes dust in a little solemn heap
played on by changing winds.
There are sanctuaries holding honey and salt.
There are those who spill and spend.
There are those who search and save.
And love may be a quest with silence and content.
Can you buy love?
Sure every day with money, clothes, candy,
with promises, flowers, big-talk,
with laughter, sweet-talk, lies,
every day men and women buy love
and take it away and things happen
and they study about it
and the longer they look at it
the more it isn’t love they bought at all:
bought love is a guaranteed imitation.

Can you sell love?
Yes you can sell it and take the price
and think it over
and look again at the price
and cry and cry to yourself
and wonder who was selling what and why.
Evensong lights floating black night water,
a lagoon of stars washed in velvet shadows,
a great storm cry from white sea-horses—
these moments cost beyond all prices.

Bidden or unbidden? how comes love?
Both bidden and unbidden, a sneak and a shadow,
a dawn in a doorway throwing a dazzle
or a sash of light in a blue fog,
a slow blinking of two red lanterns in river mist
or a deep smoke winding one hump of a mountain
and the smoke becomes a smoke known to your own
twisted individual garments:
the winding of it gets into your walk, your hands,
your face and eyes.

Katherine's First Car...It's All About Me

It all begins with sweats and sheer terror, letting a 16 year old behind the wheel of your car. Then, you gradually stop slamming your foot through the floor of the passenger side. You eventually release your fingers from pressing into the dashboard. You starting breathing more evenly. Then, the day comes...their first solo flight. (which I spent on my knees)

I think more can be said about building a prayer life during this time in our lives than pretty much any other, except maybe one of our children during toddlerhood. (No names mentioned, to protect the not-so-innocent.)

As all three of our children our considered teenagers now, our lives have become an even bigger picture of a Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey circus finale. Let me do the math for you: 3 kids + 3 different directions = one insane minivan-driving mom.

To make a long story longer...we began to discuss the idea of a third car. All parties, especially me, were very interested. After all, this would make my life seem like a picnic, instead of a circus! To not go into debt (our goal), it was decided that Katherine would have to get a job to contribute to this car. We, and by we I mean Jeff, crunched numbers and laid it all out. First day of school came and Katherine approached us that night saying there was no way she could be a good student as well as work, so she would be foregoing the car. (all said with a very wise, but sad face)

She leaves the room. I look at Jeff and say, "Wait a minute...we're still getting the car, right?" He said, no, didn't I hear Katherine and wasn't I proud of my child for making such a mature and wise decision.

"Yes, but...what about the car?" I say in a slightly trembly voice.

"There is no car now," he replies. "No job. No car. It's that simple," and turns back to his computer.

"But, hey...hang on a minute! That car was going to change my life. What about me? Why isn't anyone considering me into this? Helloooooo!!!! Someone? Anyone? Doesn't anyone care about me? Think of how much less driving I would have to do. I could have time to cook at night if I weren't having to drive to Arlington. I could keep the house clean!" At this point, his eyebrows raise, and..."OK, fine. Maybe I still wouldn't have a clean house, but it sounds nice, doesn't it?"

So, to keep from completely boring you to death, lots of other stuff happened, with the main thing being: God provided, both the car and the money and we are grateful. And, when Katherine drives off to school with her sisters in the car, I smile, wave and say, "Drive carefully!" and as soon as the garage door is down, I run inside and keep improving my prayer life.