food, crochet, merriment
Mama told Lily, “It’s time to go,” which usually means–tidy the toys, find your shoes, get your hat and head for the door.
This is what we got…
Ready to go—
Applause please…
Didn’t have the heart to tell her that her shoes were on the wrong feet! ha ha
Week #12 Food Storage Prompt: 4 cans mushroom soup
There is a ton of color in our yard these days. Most of it is coming from the rose bushes that are everywhere. They remind me…
When I was a little girl, my dad took the family to the Tournament of Roses Parade. It was a pretty big deal. However, in order to get a real spot on the curb to watch the whole thing we had to stake out a chunk of space on the sidewalk in down town Pasadena. It was so strange to be sleeping outside with a million other people—on the pavement. Uncomfortable and awkward–but exciting at the same time.
I remember there were some scary looking hippies—sorry, that’s what we called them back then—who were smoking something when we got there. They played guitars and sang nearly all night. My dad rigged up some kind of Bunsen Burner deal and made hot chocolate for us and shared some to them as well. The smoking stopped immediately because there were “little dudes around.”
My cute dad was always one for heading off any signs of trouble–at the pass–and making friend with everyone. Sometimes it scared my mom half to death–but he felt like being kind and friendly right up front, was the best way to keep us all safe.
As we kids started to fall asleep the singers’ music got softer and more lullaby-like. I vaguely remember a slow, sweet version of Puff the Magic Dragon as I drifted off to sleep. While we slept, some other group of people set up chairs right in front of us, completely blocking our view of the street. We woke to the sound of the “hippies” physically escorting the curb poachers far, far away from our space.
I’m sure it was a wonderful parade–maybe it even had something to do with roses. Sincerely, I can’t remember one speck of it. What I do remember is my dad shaking hands and patting the backs of some new, very different friends. Friends that didn’t look so scary any more.
This day has always been about families. Pulling everyone together to remember those who aren’t with us right now. In a lovely way, it is also about flowers.
Bundles and bundles…
of real flowers…
to leave with a few people we love, and miss very much.
Great Grama Beck—the only doctor type person in town way back then and who sewed a neighbor’s scalp back on after a mule kicked him in the head.
My momma’s brother who took one breath on the day he was born then closed his eyes again.
My grama who once gave a kid a black eye for calling her little brother a “dirty farm kid.”
And my grampa who used to be a magician and could escape from being wrapped with chains–in 3 minutes.
My great-great grandpa who gave Orson Hyde a purse of gold for his mission to the Holy Land a long time ago.
We have spent this day remembering our family, with my mom and dad so many times–it seems impossible that now we are remembering them. How can it be?
My lovely flower bearers…
…and our tiniest blossom–so she will know the goodness that she comes from, and never forget.
I hope your Memorial Day weekend was wonderful for you all.
tell me…
What is it with boys and guns anyway?
Have you ever noticed that you don’t have to actually hand them a play gun, because everything–EVERYTHING magically has the ability to become one? Rakes…tripods…cd cases…balloons…bread.
Whatever.
In their mind, every inanimate object within their reach, has the innate ability to maim. This is a skill that only boys have–or, I might add, want.
From birth.
Of course, this skill puts everyone in their rifle scope every waking moment. We wouldn’t want to waste precious practice time, would we? Consequently, no one is safe.
In fact, I remember helping 3 year old Daney boy get dressed one day and his little thumb-and-finger-gun kept being loaded and fired too dang close to my head for me to like it.
Finally, after having my ears and chin and both eyes taken out by Hop-along’s imaginary bullets and a bit weary of his gun hand waving in my face, I held on to his arm and said, “Hey! You know, it isn’t very nice for boys to shoot at their mommas.”
His eyes immediately filled up with tears and he collapsed in a heap in front of me.
“I wasn’t shooting my momma.” Oh, he was wailing now.
“Reeeeally?” I said.
And I’m Mother Goose.
He pulled himself up and wiped at his nose with his sweatshirt sleeve. To the washer with that one.
“I was killing the bad guys….
so…
they don’t…
get….
…you.”
dun..dun..dun.
sigh.
The “Mother of the Year” title just flew past me…
…again.
Rats.
How do you like the new look?
Yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest little blogger on the planet. Every time my cute little daughter gets in a creative mood–something magical happens. Many times it means that I get a new blog design for Gracious Rain. April said she was sure people would start thinking that Gracious Rain was suffering from some kind of multiple personality disorder because it completely changes every few months or so. I just love it, so I can’t worry about what the psychology majors think. It’s incredibly ok with me if Gracious Rain is the blog design guinea pig for Sassyfruit, whenever it happens. Never a dull moment here!
Speaking of Sass–last week we had a giveaway for a free custom blog design. If you’ll recall, in the end Sassyfruit gave away TWO free blog designs instead of one. Well, I just thought you might like to see the finished product for the Gracious Rain winner, Dot. Her site is called “Dots and Clovers,” and her newly madeover site is adorable! I hope you’ll check it out.
Lastly, as you can see, I have room at the top for more tabs, so I’m open for suggestions. What do you think? Is there something you wish you had easier access to? I’m sure we’ll come up with something, but if you have any great epiphanies on the subject–I’d love to hear all about them! Just leave a comment below.
Thanks my friends…