It’s Been a Year…

since I’ve seen my cute boy

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as of today–June 4, 2009.

He is happy and safe and learning Russian as well as Lithuanian and fumigating his apartment for fleas, and loving it all.

He met a man who introduced himself by saying, “Hello, my name is Jesus.”

Without missing a beat, Dane answered, ” Nice to meet you. How can we help you?”

Sheesh–I miss that boy.

I’ll just have to walk around saying, “One year left…one year left…one year left.”

Tick…tick…tick. The countdown begins…

The chanting does help.

I am brave…I am brave…I am brave.

I am trying…

 

 

*****

Read Jillian’s “Walking On Sunshine“” post about her brother.

 

 

Rose Parade

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.

Read about  The Rose Named Peace
Photos by Jillian

Nearly, Nearly…

Nearly a pink blossom

Nearly a graduate

Nearly a cozy fire

Nearly a peach

Nearly Summer

Nearly at the end

Nearly one year out

Nearly jam

Nearly fifty-one years old

Nearly perfect

Perfect

Memorial…the Day

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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.

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Bundles and bundles…

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of real flowers…

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to leave with a few people  we love, and miss very much.

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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.

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My momma’s brother who took one breath on the day he was born then closed his eyes again.

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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.

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My great-great grandpa who gave Orson Hyde a purse of gold for his mission to the Holy Land a long time ago.

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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?

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My lovely flower bearers…

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…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.

Get a Load of These…

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By load I mean…

busload.

So, there we were, April, the babies and I driving along, minding our own business.

I casually say, “Hey did you know there’s a new bakery in Provo, on University. It sounds cute–Fairy something.”

She says, “Ooooh. Let’s go. Right now.”

Pretty sure she meant, “Right now before we have time to think about it more clearly. Right now, before we have a decent, low fat breakfast of Cheerios and half a banana…for the 27th morning in a row. Right now before we add up the treadmill time this trip will surely cost us.”

As we drove around in the strip mall, trying to find the silly place, I’m looking on both sides of the street, saying, “Where? Where is it?”  Then, suddenly, as if someone turned on a huge floodlight–which would have been completely unnecessary, since it was 10:00 in the morning–but you know–like that, we could just FEEL that the place was near. Turning in slow motion, to the right…we found it.

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Sweet Tooth Fairy Bake Shop

Oh my…I think the theme song to Gone With the Wind might have been playing right about now.

We unbuckled the babies and walked cautiously towards the shop. I had goose bumps up and down my arms—no doubt because of the music–and had to suppress the urge to giggle like a 4 year old.

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Now, please believe me–I tried to be mature about this. You need to understand that this place was so perfect, all pink and sparkly and fairies and magic–and I haven’t even mentioned the cupcakes yet. That is because as I remember the experience my breathing screws up. I think I may be hyperventilating.

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The frosting alone was worth the trip. Heck, looking at the frosting alone, was worth the trip. Wisely,  April has a wrangle grip on Beckham and I had Lily on my hip to avoid any Tasmanian-type rampage. And how could we have blamed them if they had gone completely berserk? We were having a hard time not licking the glass ourselves. The only words that would come out of my mouth were, “Oooohh…man. We’re in so much trouble.”

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Sixteen month old, Lily takes one look at the display cases filled with enough sugar to send any regular Jane into a diabetic coma, points to the tray full of  cupcakes and says, “Do it!”

I couldn’t agree more.

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The pretty little gal behind the counter would have to admit that once we got the uncontrollable shaking stopped, we were pretty rational.  One each, we told ourselves. That didn’t work because I wanted the Key Lime but I needed the Strawberry Shortcake. So naturally that meant that April needed to choose two–just to be fair. She chose orange and peanut butter cup.

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Now most people know that you really can’t put four cupcakes in a box that is designed to hold six cupcakes. It totally messes up the balance of the box-not to mention life in a parallel universe, plus those empty spaces just look stupid.  There was nothing for it but to choose one more…each. She chose the vaNIEla (Named after Stephanie Nielson of NieNie dialogue fame) and I chose chocolate mint–because I had no choice. It was calling to me.

We came promptly home and cut the gooey little beauties in fourths so that we could all have a taste of each. They were all wonderful–of course, but Key Lime is worth crawling to Denver and back for…in my opinion. April’s favorite was the orange. Jillian loved the peanut butter cup. I’ll get back to you on Lyndi’s favorite.

What a heavenly, magnamonious, perfectly perfect afternoon.

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Oh, and no, we didn’t tell the men. What they don’t know, we don’t have to share.

hee hee…

 

 

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Week 10 Food Storage Prompt:

4 cans of tuna; 4 boxes of macaroni and cheese.