Friends and family will come and go,
but love never dies.
Ace Ventura Pet Purrfect
it’s time for Fall planting. The time of year where a Southerner asks, “Do I dare bother?” With a drought and triple digit temps, we gardeners tease ourselves. Seed packets are scattered before us as we attempt to recall the hope of lushness yet to be realized. Suddenly a hot breeze blows, the sun beats us back into reality. We retreat, back into the air conditioned confines of our human habitat to take refuge, and with given time, we’ll get around to doing what it is that needs doing. And just as we are prepared, word comes that mosquitos carrying the West Nile virus have been discovered down at the local fire station, just four blocks from the house.
Bug spray has been my perfume of choice this summer. A necessity, these days. I’ve personally known two people that have caught this horrible virus. Both were hospitalized for months, and suffered debilitating consequences. Each worked tirelessly to resume their normal lifestyle.
Today is “Debbie Downer Day.” I traveled out into the backyard to snap a few photo’s, and thus remembered that it’s been weeks since I promised we’d revisit the ‘contest’… and I promise we will. Let me give you a glimpse of what it will be based upon:
Just as I was thinking this item had finally “bit the dust,” with it’s curling brown and yellow leaves, I discovered that this sucker is actually regenerating new leaves. Remember when I discovered that she is an invasive species and can wreak havoc upon cotton crops? Thankfully I can report that my neighbors cotton crop is handsomely doing well. Thriving in fact, but I’m afraid that won’t be the case if these pods burst forth with their numerous seeds, become scattered by wind and take up residency on the other side of the stockade fence.
Here’s my game plan: After I write this, I’m going outside and place a large plastic bag over it’s head. Maybe, better yet, I’ll place a large trash receptacle over her head, anchor it down and suffer this girl to the heat of Hades for a week or so. I’ll place heavy rocks atop the barrel to insure that item stays in place!
Normally I’m tame. But today is no normal day. I decided that when I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. I tried coffee, music, and watering the beautiful flowers that still bring hope that Hades hasn’t won this round. West Nile virus, a drought and water restrictions just think they have me beat! As I type, I am suddenly feeling better. I’m banishing the blues to that trash can. Talking always helps me feel better. Thanks for listening. I am no longer, “Debbie”… I’m back to being Grounded. ;) Here, let me leave you with a treat. I think everyone deserves a bit of loveliness in their day.
Life is a journey, not a destination…
Ralph Waldo Emerson
I can’t believe it was 24 years ago that I was welcoming our miracle baby into the world. And a true miracle she was! In the midst of being treated for a brain tumor I was warned that my chances of giving birth to a second child was slim, to none. This news was beyond devastating. Each time a friend and neighbor announced an upcoming birth, I wavered back and forth between extreme happiness for their family, while suffering deep sadness for ours.
When I learned I was pregnant, it was a time of wonder, surprise, but also one of great trepidation. Medications I was taking to suppress tumor growth were stopped, but worry entered into the picture. Not for myself, but for the health of my unborn. Test after test were administered, genetic counseling was one of them, after an amniocentesis was performed.
I threw myself into planning her nursery, refusing to accept that there might be complications and health concerns for either of us. My oldest daughter brought me peace of mind. I would look at her and think to myself, “What a beautiful gift!” I concentrated on the awesomeness of her specialness and refused to go into a negative mode. Together we recreated “her nursery” in blue and white gingham. (I knew M1 was a boy from the day I learned I was pregnant. No one could sway me into thinking of pink gingham, or any other alternative color scheme.) With M2, we were informed of the baby’s gender during the genetic testing and counseling period. The doctor’s wanted to prepare us for any possible challenges, and even though that was twenty-four years ago, I was amazed at what was known and how little public information was available without the access of the medical community. Our family never lost hope.
So, today when I think of a 24th birthday, and I celebrate with M2’s favorite sweets, I give thanks. Our family is truly blessed. Miracles do happen. Never give up on Hope. :)
The above lovely ladies are his favorite people. He won't tell you that, but leave it to a group of sisters to embarrass a single male in the midst of raging female hormones. He's not sure how he survived the shame of being the only boy in a group of five women, but we are thankful he hung in there with us. He's our hero. (WARNING: this post contains content not appropriate for anyone under age 21 or anyone that can read. I'm guilty of pranking my beloved brother. Join with me, but don't stand too close to the cake. This fella's turning 65. I'd like to have my upper lip waxed, but these eyebrows are already a bit sparse. If he goes hurricane force on blowing out the candles we're all in trouble!) .....
‘cuse me, I’m typing a birthday wish to my brother, formerly referred to as, Bubba Joe-Fred.
He recently informed me that he’d like a nickname change. Awe shucks, why not oblige
him? I’m blessed with four sister’s and just this single bub, so what the heck! Let’s go rogue
on him and give him the gift that pleases. He wants to be renamed 2BuckChuck. Thinks it fits
A bit better than that Bubba Joe item. Must be something to do with his Wyoming birth roots.
Or perhaps those early days of manhood where ‘wining and dining’ the ladies meant a burger
from the hamburger joint, and a bottle of cheaply, and pungently ‘perfumed’ vino, confiscated
or ‘conveniently’ delivered at said location by a rendezvous resource(s). Memories either fade or
take on a whole new dimension of “reality” when we are in the speed-cycle of life. Let’s help
build this tall tale into high fashion by high noon!
So join in this festive celebration and grab a brewsky. Help Hannah and I sing a few bars of
what has now become his favored song, cuz let’s face it, if this is the SIXTY-FIFTH time he’s
heard it, it becomes sweeter each year you return to hear it! ;)
(Please note that Hannah is ready for a sea rescue. I’m over here saluting, Congratulaions Mr. C.R.W., Retired USN Master Chief, “2BuckChuck”.)
*The above photo’s were taken from a Southlake, Texas, business. These flags are dedicated to each person lost on September 11, 2001, in the World Trade Center bombings. Each Memorial Day, without fail, there is a flag placed and flown to honor them. They too, are fallen soldiers, and will never be forgotten.
Thank you, Mr. Claffey.