A Lot Of Miles Left

Years ago, Michael decided our vehicles should last until they had over 100,000 miles.


Because of his great success, he vowed to keep our cars until they'd hit the 200,000 mark. I happened to be driving the Acura yesterday when this goal was achieved.


Don't ask why the brake light is on, or about that other yellow light that is illuminated all of the time. Give the car a break. It's a little tired. It's been driven 200,0003 miles.


Yes, I was driving down the highway at exactly 75 mph...ok, closer to 80. But how could I miss this momentous mile marker and not make a memory?

Michael mentioned the other day that he hoped I'd keep my car until it has at least 200,000 miles on the odometer. I about fell over laughing.

At the rate I drive, I will be exactly 81 years old when my car rolls over to 200,000 miles.


Can you imagine that?

Haha...It's A Cat-Face

You can't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor, as well as creative genius.


Tell me that isn't the funniest face you've ever seen on the back of a spider.
(If you click on the photo, you can make it larger.)

Okay, call me crazy. I just checked on my spider friend. He's still hanging out. I took another picture of him. And I laughed out loud.

Seriously, is that a smile or what?

CYE

Last week, the night before I left, Hilary sent me a text.

"Mom, check your email." Hmmm...I was curious since I hadn't spoken with her all week. I opened it up. A picture of herself opened up. I had to study it for a moment to figure out what exactly she was wanted me to see. A new haircut? Hair color?


Oh wait...a tiny diamond stud.

As Christopher said after he pierced his ears and eybrow, "it's just a college thing, ma. Be glad it isn't a tatoo." I am. And it was.

September 11, 2010

As I strolled through the airport, images of a high-jacked plane crashing into the twin towers was aired on t.v. monitors around the terminal. It felt funny to be flying on the 9th anniversary of that calamitous day of September 11th. I've mentioned before, I was in Arizona to attend my 30th High School Reunion. I also spent time visiting my parents, siblings and their families. We went out on my sister's boat, for the last time, as she is moving to California. My mom received some news from her doctor that she needs additional testing that we hope results in nothing serious. Emotionally I was torn in leaving. I missed my family back at home, but I would also miss my family in Arizona.

I wasn't the only one flying that day. My mother-in-law had boarded a plane earlier for a get together with her daughters. She was very excited. Two of her daughters were flying in from other parts of the country so they could all be in one place together.

Kate & Charley boarded a plane in Portland, after saying good-bye to their 7 children. Flying to Denver, with another stopover in Frankfurt, and arriving in Kiev, they would reach their final destination: a Ukraine orphanage where they hoped the adoption of two 2 special little girls with Downs Syndrome would go smoothly.

Passengers, all traveling for different reasons, not unlike those who'd boarded the fateful aircrafts 9 years earlier, but never reached their destinations. It was a poignant moment as I reflected on life around me.

I wished I'd taken more photographs, said I love you more. Would my friends and family think I was weird if I sent out a mass text message, reminding them how much I love them?

When our plane finally landed in Denver, a flight attendant came on the loud speaker and announced she'd like us all to take a moment of silence on this September 11th. And then this happened:




When the song ended, everyone clapped and cheered. Can I just say, I love Southwest Airlines?

It's Been Fun

Until we meet again.

The Reunion

I spent hours agonizing over what I should wear to the reunion. Really. I honestly thought, having had 8 months to get ready for it, that I would lose a few pounds, look fab, wear a stunning outfit and wow everyone. Seriously folks, did anyone else think the same?

Hahahahaha...let's see, I didn't lose weight or wow anyone. But hey, I could still wear a nice outfit and have great hair, right? (If your hairdresser doesn't get scissor happy the week before.)

I think it was 106 degrees as I walked from the car, to the resort. I could feel trickles of sweat beneath my hair. Any minute my smooth locks would be sticking to my head or curling up. I needed to get inside to air conditioning quick. My fab heels weren't helping, especially up 2 flights of stairs.

A handful of people were taking photos outside. Not wanting to remain in the heat any longer, I kept my gaze for the door so as not to make eye contact with someone I might recognize.

The moment finally arrived. I was amongst my peers-the class of 1980. But who were these people standing around? I didn't see any of my former classmates, just a bunch of older folks. Holy cow! I didn't recognize a single one of them. And I don't believe they recognized the sweaty lady, who was more than a few pounds heavier, straight red hair instead of tight blonde curls.

It's a good thing we were given name tags with our senior photo attached. Straining my eyes hoping for a glimmer of recollection to the mored aged faces, I was left with the belief that maybe we could qualify for the senior discount.

Flashbacks 3

These pics were taken in good ol' photobooths. Haven't seen one for awhile. Maybe they are extinct. Back in the day, I was amazed by the technology.

Really not so different from digital. While at the mall, you want a snapshot of the moment. Instead of using a cell phone, you hop in a curtained booth, freeze a pose, wait for a series of camera clicks, hang out 3 minutes, and voila! You hold nearly-instant photographs in your hand, rather than on your phone. You can quick share by handing them to whomever is standing nearby.

Sweet.

In the first series I must have been 15. That cute kid is my nephew. He has a baby of his own now. I'm wondering what I did after the first picture. Poor thing, sitting on my lap one moment, the next? Did I drop him to the floor or push his head down?

Maybe that is why I look so serious.

From experience, I learned if I smiled to too big the flash off my teeth was blinding. Talk about a shiny grill...guess I was a little before my time.

Here I am with the same nephew, Michael. I loved that kid and spent a lot of time with him.
I have no idea whose pickup truck I'm sitting in, but just about everyone drove a pickup truck in high school.

When I see Michael today, I'm going to take my picture with him.

Getting Ready.

Sitting at the airport, ready to flashback. Can't get my pics to upload. Sigh. Maybe later.

Flashbacks

Because I'm headed to my 30th High School Reunion this weekend, thought I'd revisit the past. This is how my classmates may remember me.

Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We rented a home with a cool, wheelchair accessible ramp out the back door. It made running outside a quick exit, with no stairs to slow us down. I don't recall who first noticed, but one cold winter night, ice had formed on the ramp. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.

We happened out the door this particular night, because my parents were preoccupied. They had invited guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content visiting in the living room, we slipped out back. Literally. My sister, who loved ice skating, thought that the ice should be deeper. It was so cold, that when we poured water down the ramp it froze almost instantly. It was exciting! Bucket after bucket cascaded down, until we had one of the finest ice slides ever created by kids.

Eagerly, but politely, we took turns sliding down our enormous hill-until my brother's competitive nature emerged. We ran back into the house, ever so quietly, in search of our slickest, smoothest shoes. We were going to race. I was the last one to find an old pair of boots, that were several sizes too big. My older siblings, after several runs had nearly perfected their speed by the time I snuck back outside. After what seemed forever, it was finally my turn.

Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I fell face first onto the ice. I don't recall much after that. I do remember blood dripping down, and my sister holding me back from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think little sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.

My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad. My parents were more concerned with missing front teeth. I was whisked away, into the dark of night, to an emergency dentist. I came home with a fat lip and shiny new teeth in a sterling silver color. The next day, my brother found two teeth sticking out of the ice.

That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." I sang it every year. The nickname "tinsel teeth" stuck. I endured much teasing and laughter because of my metallic smile. At times I felt like a freak. I learned to smile with my mouth closed until I was 18.

I do believe God used this as a character building event in my life, creating compassion and tenderness into my heart towards others.

FlashBack

I'm NEVER getting my hair cut again. I know, I've said this before here, and here. I've even given an explanation of whyI believe my hair is such an obsession. But this time I mean it. Maybe I should say I'm never getting it cut again in July or August, or right before an event. Something about the summer turns my hairdresser into a maniacal, scissor-happy producer of bad hair months.

I should have suspected this lunacy, when she told me about the latest craze. Some daytime soap star was sporting a new version of the 1970's shag and everyone was asking for it. Everyone but me.

Last month, I went in to see my hairdresser. I wanted just a trim. I finally had my hair exactly the way I wanted, just a few dry ends. I was preparing for my 30th High School Reunion. As so many of us do, I thought I'd lose weight and look amazing. That didn't happen. I reasoned that if nothing else, I could at least have fabulous hair. Back in high school, I did NOT have fab hair.

(That's me on the far right.)

Fearing the possibility of a bad haircut, I went for a trial run. It came out perfect! So yesterday, I went back for the final trim before heading to Phoenix this Friday. What happened??? She completely and totally forgot that it had taken us months to get my hair grown into LONG and almost no layers. Where did these short wispy things come from? I'm going to my 30th reunion...I don't want my hair to look like it did 30 years ago.


Sigh. Never, never again. Someone please remind me of this next summer when I want my hair to look like a million bucks.

In honor of my 30th high school reunion, this week I'm posting old pics every day. You'll have to bear with me, since a lot of the pics of me are with random boys. Apparently I spent a lot of time with boys-at least in pictures.

New Adventure

"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe...calm down Emily..."



We met Emily last Saturday, when friends of Michael offered to take us & Ethan boating. Emily is 18 & autistic. She was excited to meet new people, seemed to enjoy the peaceful sights and sounds, wore a life jacket and a pony tail for the first time, but panicked at the uncertainty of her new adventure. At one point she seemed to get stuck on the idea that she could not breathe, yet also seemed to realize she just needed to calm down and life would be all right again.

This morning, her words sputtered repetitiously through my head, "I can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay..."

We were headed up North to release Hilary into the wild of college/dorm life.



"Emily can't breathe, can't breathe, can't breathe...calm down Emily, you're okay, you're okay, you're okay...Emily can't breathe..." While Emily had moments of panic, Ethan loved every bit of boating life.


Adorned in his life jacket, he felt safe and secure. He laughed at the thrill of full throttle, as the wind whipped and the water splashed.

He boldly sat in the captain's chair, taking full control of the boat, navigating through deep waters. He knew his Grandpa was there to help.

Hilary's adventure is not unlike our boat ride. In spite of the tightness in my chest, I will be okay. My prayer for Hilary is that she will feel safe, secure, and confidant, knowing the Lord is her life jacket as she courageously steers through her new adventure in life, filled with thrills, new experiences, splashes of fun and ferocious learning.


Hilary is not alone in this boat.

Enjoy the ride, Hilary, we'll all be okay.

Love Never Fails

I stayed up late finishing this puzzle. I noticed something interesting. Do you see it?


It's there as plain as day.



Now can you make it out?



Lauren & Christopher.

Tomorrow is Lauren's birthday. Head over to her & Christopher's blog and wish her a happy birthday, will you?

Happy Birthday Lauren!

Hmmm...

Have you ever had God ask you to do something that seems odd? You say, "okay, I'll do that." But at the same time you think, "hmmm...I know there must be a purpose. This is weird. I don't understand it, but I'll do it nonetheless. But, this is a strange request."

I imagine Abraham felt something similar when God told him to sacrifice his son Isaac on the altar. "Okay, God. But, geez, I waited a very long time for your promise that I would have a son. In fact, so long that I sort of took matters into my own hands to help you out. Then, when I least expect it, like when I'm very old, and my wife is like really old, you give us this kid Isaac. And now you want me to sacrifice him??? Like I said, okay. But I really don't get it."

So, my response is: "okay God. I'll do it. And shortly, I hope to be amazed as to WHY you want me to do this."

Thunk Thursday on Friday

When I purchased my iron, I laughed when I read the attached tag:

DO NOT IRON CLOTHING WHILE WEARING

Who would do that? If somebody is dumb enough to iron their clothes while wearing them, somebody is going to get burned and has nobody to blame but herself.

Hello. My name is Somebody.

Auto Mechanics

Okay Grandpa, I'm ready to work on my truck.


Let me get my tools.


First you open the hood and tinker around.


What next?


Do I really need a hammer?


Hahaha...I see how to do it, Grandpa.


Just a few taps here.


Tap, tap, tap.


Do we really have to crawl under it?


How's this?


Grandpa, I'm not sure I like working on cars.

Amazing Grace

My dad sent this to me and I had to post it. I could listen to this all day.

Distractions

How else can I explain why I have 9 unfinished, yet saved posts? I can't seem to bring my thoughts to completion. I put them on hold, but never return to finish.

I love being a grandmother to Ethan. It is rewarding, challenging and sometimes the hardest thing I've ever done. How I wish he could open his mouth and plainly tell me what he is thinking. I want to answer the questions I'm sure he asks, but I don't understand. What must life be like to not have others comprehend what you are saying, what you are feeling, the questions you are asking and nobody answers?


Fishing with Ethan was fun. We went to a fish farm, where the cost is not in patience of waiting all day. The price is paid in length, nearly a dollar per inch of fish. After Ethan caught two and his grandpa caught one, we decided we had more than our fair share.
















We carried the bucket of fish to be measured out, gutted and iced for the drive home. I'm not sure we adequately explained to Ethan what was about to happen to his beloved fish.

















While Christina headed off to find a restroom, the young man who took the bucket of fish invited Ethan to watch him work. After declaring we had nearly 45 inches of fish, the young man skillfully went to work. He cut out parts, explaining to Ethan what each one was.

As he was finishing, I noticed Ethan wobble. I recognized the pale gray color, as the blood drained from his face, right before he passed out. Down he went.

Thankfully, we caught him as he fell. I laid him on the wet ground. His fists curled and he began seizing. Thankfully, the only injury he sustained was a cut by his eye.

After getting fluids down him and food in him, he was exhausted and promptly fell asleep. I needed the quiet ride home to recover.


As soon as we arrived home, Ethan pulled out the ziploc bag of headless fish and proudly showed them off. He couldn't figure out why his Aunt Sarabeth shrieked and pushed hin away as he held them up for her to examine. He plunked them bag and all into a bucket, just like after he caught them. I suspect he thought that fish belonged in a bucket after being caught. I somehow convinced him the fish would be happier sleeping in the freezer. But he'll pull them out and show them to you if you ask.

Good Morning

I'm trying to wake up.  Really, I am.  I know the clock reads 10 a.m. 

I determined to go to bed early last night, but when I looked at the clock, it read 5 minutes until 1:00.  Well, ok.  In 5 minutes, I will turn off the lights and lay my head on the pillow.  I glanced at the clock again and told myself, "As soon as the little hand is on the 12, I'll get out of this chair and make my way back to the bedroom."

I got busy again.  The girls and I chatted.  We had a discussion.  We disagreed amicably.  We chatted some more.  I began to feel a wee bit tired.  But darn that clock.  It still said 5 minutes until 1:00 a.m.  I wondered how long I'd been fooled by the sleepy little clock, with the stilled pendulum.  I squinted to read the computer screen.  The tiny numbers were 2:22.

I said good-night, turned off the light, feeling a little contrite.

Estes Park Fishing

Fishing

Mobile blogging-Taking Ethan fishing