Sunset Over Folly Beach

Although we did not lodge on Folly Beach this year, we did a quick visit the last night of vacation.  Folly Beach is hopping little hippie beach reminiscent of the 1960-1970 era.  Small, friendly open air restaurants line the main drag, music fills the air, laughter and friendly chatter are catching, casual attire rules and dogs are welcome everywhere.   It totally ROCKS!

We walked out on to the fishing pier to watch the sun set.  Here is what I captured.

Me and my "babies."

What compels someone

to write their name in the sand?

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Family Vacation at Seabrook Island 2010

I am on Seabook Island in South Carolina this week.   Seabrook is a small barrier island twenty miles south of Charleston, SC.  Seabrook boasts wide, uncrowded beaches and pristine dunes and it is true.   I walked the three and one-half miles of beach yesterday and encountered less than fifty people.  Of course, the area is still in the "off" season and I am sure crowds will increase after the Memorial Day Holiday, but for now, the area feels private and secluded.   Exactly what I love!!!!  My family rented a small three-bedroom beach cottage for the week through Vacation Rental By Owner (VRBO).  If you've never used VRBO, this is a great way to find rental property for vacations all over the world.   We've had good experiences renting this way, and this experience was no exception.  In fact, this has been one of the most professional renters I have ever encountered.   Jim and Terri Edmiston from Charlotte, NC, own this little home and have been a joy to work with through the rental process.   Check out their site here and I highly recommend doing business with them.  Honestly, the site doesn't do this charming home or the area justice!

I am a bit under the weather.  I left home Saturday with a sore throat and it is still troubling me.  It is an overcast day and since I was on the beach most of the day yesterday, I opted to stay in to lounge and rest while the guys rode bikes to the pool this afternoon.  I am hoping to feel better quickly so that I can explore the island and get into Charleston this week.  Either way, it is beautiful here and I am enjoying the scenery, the call of the gull, the lapping of the waves and the enthusiasm of my boys.   I want to take some photos of the sun setting over the Low Country marshland and the horses at the Equestrian Center.  Plus, I want to try my hand at crabbing from a nearby dock.   And did I mention stuffing myself full of shrimp and crab legs????

I always find this area to be the epitome of Southern hospitality and graceful beauty.  I really think I could see myself owning a small shabby chic beach cottage in the future.   For now, I'll just gaze out my window and dream.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Vintage Thingies - Caned Chairs

Wow!  It's Thursday already and once again time for Vintage Thingies with Colorado Lady which is a meme I enjoy participating in when I can.  I have a few chairs I want to share this week.  Nothing spectacular, but something I love.   

This sewing rocker was given to me many years ago.  The caned seat was worn out.  My Father-in-Law, who knows how to cane, redid the seat for me.  I wish I had a mileage meter attached to this little rocker when my oldest son, Carter, was a baby.  I rocked many a mile with him in his early months on colicky evenings, and then as he grew older and could communicate with me, he would always want me to rock in the squeaky chair.  The noise seemed to comfort him, so we did a lot of rocking and reading. 

Beautiful cane work!

This chair is from Tunnel Hill Baptist Church (a little church in a local valley) and is quite old.  I image this was in a Sunday School classroom for many years.  Churches are so "comfortable" now.  Can you image sitting in this chair for hours.

 

You can see that the caning in this chair is much older and the wear more obvious.

I have a couple of these ladder back chairs salvaged from local places that have been refinished and recaned.  I love the simplicity of the lines in these chairs.   They remind me of Quaker furniture.  Again, my Father-in-Law did the refinishing and recaning. 

 

Oscar likes it too.

The table came from a flea market several years ago. 

It is little and somewhat impratical but I love it.

I am having a giveaway this week for Mother's Day!  

A Very Cherry Berry Apron.  

If you would like to enter, link here.

 
Thanks for reading, Rosie.

It Was Twenty Years Ago Today

I can do all things in Christ who gives me strength. 

Philippians 4:13

 

Twenty years ago today, April 21, 1990,

 I gave birth to my first baby boy.  

Carter, words can not express what

a blessing you are in my life. 

You are the light of my heart!

You have grown into a handsome

man both inside and out and

I stand in awe at the development

of your strong character

knowing that it is from God alone and

taking no credit as your mother. 

What most people believe in their head,

you believe in your heart and that

is what made the difference.

I have watched you set goals and

work tirelessly to reach them. 

I have also watched you struggle,

praying I could help, yet knowing there are some

lessons a mother can not teach her son.  

I wait breathlessly some days to see what

God is going to do in your life next

expecting that it will be amazing because

you are open to adventure.

You have been given many talents! 

My prayer is that you will use each one to make

Him famous and not yourself and I fully believe you will.

Thank you for being such a wonderful son!

Happy 20th Birthday!

I Love You!

Drive fast, take chances ;)

Love, Reading Rosie (AKA Mom)

No Pain, No Gain

My six-foot, thirteen-year-old, barely able to walk through a door frame without ducking, can not fit into a dentist chair, big footed son who talks incessantly had his mouth wired this morning.  My "baby" is in some pain and probably will be for a few days.   Nothing makes my heart ache more than to see my child in pain.  I can very much empathize with him, as I too had braces when I was a teenager.  On the positive side, though, I should see a significant decrease in my grocery bill and a hear a lot less smart aleck comments for the next few days.  Oh well, no pain, no gain! 

Winking at you with a sly grin, Rosie.

From Boys to Men

As a mother, I am always looking for quality reading material for myself and my sons.   I look for material that will encourage me to guide my sons, as well as engaging material that will inspire my sons to become strong, capable, and responsible men.   When I ran across these books by Bob Schultz, I knew I had struck GOLD!

Created For Work: Practical Insights for Young Men - This book is chocked full of  real life stories to teach young men what it means to become hard workers.   Witty and applicable in today's culture, this book offers tools and insight into giving a honest day's work.  Recommended for ages 9-13 but applicable for any age;  I read this one aloud to my sons.  We laughed and talked our way through every chapter and learned so much about work ethics.

Boyhood and Beyond: Practical Wisdom for Becoming a Man  - The author shares personal anecdotes and practical stories dealing with different issues boys will encounter as they move into manhood.   Topics discussed include: honesty, forgiveness, being "manly," leadership, worship, and respecting girls in preparation for loving their future wife.  Boys can read the book alone and record their responses in a journal. Ideal to read and discuss each chapter with a father, grandfather, or mentor. For ages 9-13.  This book set the foundation for some great conversations in our home.

Practical Happiness:  A Young Mans Guide to a Contented Life - Again, a timely applicable book that gives advice to young men on how true happiness comes from their attitude and response to life's situations rather than seeking the materialistic.   Don't we all need that information?!

For pricing, ordering and more details regarding each book....go here.   In my opinion, you will not find better information available for young men.  If you've read these books I would enjoy hearing your opinion.   What books for young men have you read and recommend?   I would love to know.

I have been blessed with amazing sons.  It has been and continues to be a honor to watch them grow from boys to men.  Love you guys!

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

A Tulip Tree

Today, Easter Sunday, was a lovely reminder of my Faith. After Easter services and an enormous dinner with family and friends, I took my Mother to the cemetery where my Dad was buried almost seven months ago.  Mother wanted to place spring flowers on Dad's grave.   Because the winter was so bleak and wet, I had not been back to the cemetery.  Honestly, I felt no need to go.   But today was a gloriously warm, blue-sky day and it felt right in my heart to honor my earthly father.

No tears were shed today.   Why would anyone of Faith shed tears on Easter Sunday?  If I truly believe that Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life (and I do), why would I weep over my Dad's grave?  Only his shell lies in that grave; I have reason to rejoice!  "Oh death where is your victory?  Oh grave, where is your sting?"   NOT HERE!!!

Near his grave stands a magnificent tulip tree arrayed in majestic Easter frock.  I stood under the tree and gazed into its branches marveling at nature's manifold witness of spring renewal.  In the cemetery, under the tree, in a shower of soft petals, I worshipped and praised my Heavenly Father.

This is my Father's world, and to my listening ears

All nature sings and round me rings the music of the spheres.

This is my Father's world

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas,

His hands the wonders wrought.

This is my Father's world, the birds their carols raise,

The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker's praise.

This is my Father's world

He shines in all that's fair;

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;

He speaks to me everywhere.

 

Thanks be to God for His indescribable gift!  

And thanks for reading, Rosie.

A Year of Loss, A Year of Learning

So here I am, January 3, 2010. It has been over three months since I have posted on this obscure little blog. I am a blogging drop out. No diploma for meeee! Not to make excuses but 2009 was a beast of a year and I can honestly say I’m glad it is in the past. 2009 will be journalized as a year of loss. Beginning with the tragic death of Carter’s friend, the unexpected death of a dear high school friend, Carter moving out on his own and the death of my dad in September. Life became an emotional roller coaster; however, I learned a lot in the process. At least I guess that is what I am supposed to say…I learned a lot. And I did….really.

I needed to write about my dad’s death. I could not. Words would not come. Neither would grief or tears. My body went numb. How is that possible when I knew death was present? I witnessed his decline; I said good-bye. I was wracked with guilt for feeling a sense of relief…not relief that he died…relief from the time consuming doctor’s appointments, the constant anxiety, the long sleepless nights and the never ending dialogue that comes from family members about his “condition”. Gone in an instant. Then began all the stories of how this holiday season will be so difficult when in reality, the holiday season was not too difficult. “How are you doing?” questions everywhere with “I am fine” answers. Then out of the blue while washing dishes of all things, I begin thinking about the pain my dad was in the last few days of his life. His body shook with pain and the truth is, he was probably in severe pain for several weeks and kept it to himself. And I think, “How could I not see this and request stronger pain meds for him earlier? He suffered and I did not do anything!” And there is where Grief found me. Standing in the kitchen with my hands in soapy water. Finally tears came in torrents. Wailing sobs of grief, anger, relief, guilt, and even some foot stomping and then simply missing my daddy. Missing his, “Hey, Rosie” greeting and “How are the boys?” question, his firm grip of affection that he gave me by squeezing the back of my neck and even his terrible Irish temper that I inherited (something I never thought I would miss).

I am learning what grief really is - a tricky emotion that treats everyone the same but causes as many different reactions as there are people. I am learning not to judge someone for their lack of outward grief. I am learning not to try and tame grief. And I am learning how to live without my Dad.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Happy 13th Birthday Isaac!!!!!

Thirteen years ago today, I gave birth to a strapping 8 lb. 14 oz. baby boy! What an exciting day for our family. It had taken a long six and one-half years from the birth of my first son to bring another baby into this world. We were more than ready for this new little guy and welcomed him warmly. What a tremendous blessing he is to us and what entertainment he brings to our lives.

Aaah – the memories of that day...if I could bottle that feeling, I could make a million.

3:00 a.m. September 30, 1996…I am dreaming and in my dream, there is a lot of pain. Suddenly, I wake up and there is still a lot of pain. I am not dreaming; I am in labor!

No need to panic, it took me three days to get my firstborn into this world. I will not wake MDH up until I think I should go to the hospital. I will time my contractions for a bit. I go into the den and turn on Turner Classic Movies.

Contraction. Breathe.

I find the 1957 version of Peyton Place just coming on. I have never seen this movie, maybe I will watch for a bit.

Contraction. Breathe.

The movie is good and I wonder why the 1950’s are traditionally considered a chaste decade. Lana Turner is beautiful. Why do they not make bras like that anymore?

Contraction. Breathe.

I am hungry. Maybe I should eat something. NO! The last time I gave birth, I ate something and vomited during a hard contraction. Never mind, I will just finish this movie.

Contraction. Breathe.

Gee, four minutes apart. These things are coming fast. Maybe I should put on my makeup and shave my legs. I looked terrible the last time I gave birth. I want my makeup on this time. Off to the bathroom.

Contraction. Breathe.

Thirty minutes and four contractions later I look somewhat better. Let’s see what Lana is up to now, the tramp.

Contraction. Breathe. Contraction. Breathe.

Maybe I should wake MDH up. Naaaaah!
I want to see the end of this movie.
Only, about thirty more minutes.

Contraction. Contraction. Contraction. Pant. Pant. Pant.

I crawl to the bedroom.

WAKE UP!!!!!

Get your clothes on and take me to the hospital because I am in labor!!!

How long have you been in labor?

About four hours.

How far apart are the contractions?

About a minute.

Contraction. Pant.

Why didn’t you wake me sooner?

I was watching the 1957 version of Peyton Place. I have never seen it before and I wanted to see what happened to trampy Lana Turner.

Contraction. Pant. Pant.

We find ourselves speeding to the hospital. After I am checked in and situated in my room, I am attached to fifteen different monitors. By this time, I am almost dilated to six.

Where is my epidural!

Please bring that large needle and shove it into my spine!

Aaah – that feels much better. No more pain. I actually fall asleep for a bit.

It is time to push!

I hate this part!

Push! Push!

3:55 p.m. September 30, 1996…I push twice and am handed a gorgeous baby boy!

Easy as pie!

Can anyone tell me what happened on Peyton Place?

Just kidding, I read the book.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

An Abnormal Thing Happened While I Was At The Greenhouse

A few weeks ago I took my mother to the local greenhouse to purchase some annuals for Mother's Day. It is the gift I always give to her. It is something she likes and can enjoy all summer. I also set all the flowers out for her. I spend the day at this task enjoying my Mother and Mother Nature. It makes for a lovely day. On this particular trip to the greenhouse, we ran into a friend who we had not seen in quite sometime. She asked me how my children were doing and wanted to know if Carter had graduated yet.

"Last year," I said.

"From where did he graduate, I don't remember?" she asked.

"CV Christian School", I replied.

"Are you still homeschooling your youngest?"

"Isaac. Yes, we just finished our fourth year of homeschooling. We love it. It allows us freedom to pursue more specific interest in certain subjects." I said intelligently.

"Really? How do your boys deal with normal people?" she asked sincerely.

I should say at this point, I was standing with my mouth agape, completely speechless. I glanced at my Mother to see if she had heard this question. As usual, she was not listening. I work in a library and get asked lots of questions. Sometimes people will say, "I know this is a stupid question but...." My response is "there are no stupid questions." Well, I have encountered one now!

How do my boys deal with "normal" people? First of all, show me a "normal" person. It was clearly not her and God knows I am not normal!

I really wanted to respond with something like this....

"Well the doctor's say there is not much chance they will ever fit in with normal people. Their reading, spelling, math and socialization genes were damaged at birth. As a parent, I can only do so much to help them become normal and medically speaking most research money goes to Cancer and Aids. The government does not seem to spend a lot of money in the "Normal" department. I understand that it is a little scary at first to talk to them since they use large words in correct context, shake your hand, look you in the eye and say excuse me, please and thank you; but after you are around them for a while, these defects become less intimidating. I am sorry that you are not able to see their underwear hanging out of their jeans and that you can see their eyes because their hair does not hang in their face like a sheep dog. I know it is disconcerting for the "normals" but please try and look passed their "abnormalities" and love them anyway. The world really needs more love and acceptance for these poor children."

But, being the "abnormal" person I am, I smiled and said, "they do fine with "normal" people. No problems in that department."

I really had to bite my tongue. I was furious and growled for three days.

Anyway, I bought some normal red geraniums and hung them on my front porch. I do not have a green thumb. As a matter of fact, my family laughs when I buy hanging baskets or flowers of any sort. They feel sorry for the poor plants knowing that have officially arrived at "plant hell" where they die a horrible thirst seeking death in the flaming heat of summer.

They usually end up not being watered because of this....

The day I hang flowers the birds get excited! Finally the woman has given us a place to nest! A pair of red house finch immediately set to work and who am I to mess with nature's perfection. I allow them build.

And then this happens! You can't pour water on this! What kind of a monster does the world think I am?

This is partially how I teach science to my abnormal children. Yes, I realize it is not the standard curriculum mandated by the State, but some days it is the best we can do.

Please excuse me now, I have an abnormal child who is cleaning and vacuuming his room. I need to keep an eye on him. He might practice his guitar for an hour without being told.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

A Sibling Moment

If you have a brother or sister, you probably have experienced a Sibling Moment. Of course, a Sibling Moment depends on your relationship with your sibling. My relationship with my much older brother has always been close. Despite our eight-year age difference, we understand one another. Being his baby sister, I was attached to his hip growing up. He knows all the words to several Monty Python and Beatles songs and gets British humor. In addition, he goes morrell mushroom hunting in the spring and cooks them to accompany Easter dinner. What a guy!

Anyway, a Sibling Moment is experienced when a comment is made that sparks the same thought as your sibling and all you have to do is glance at one another and the laughter explodes. This is exactly what happened to my brother and me at Easter dinner on Sunday. Understand that I am 43 and he is 51, should this immaturity still be happening? My mother, the epitome of worse case scenario, piped up in the middle of a pleasant conversation my brother and I were having regarding our dogs eating grass. BTW, did you know you could purchase pods of dog grass? Weird. Mother interrupted to announce that our aunt had recently attended a class on self-defense for women. One self-defense approach that was suggested for a woman if threatened by an attacker was to drop on the ground and begin eating grass which would eventually make her regurgitate thus causing the attacker to leave her alone. What??? As if dropping to the ground and eating grass would not freak the attacker out enough. This statement caused my brother’s eyes and mine to meet and that is all it took. Really, I have never seen two people laugh so hard. It was one of those “nobody else gets it moments.” Snort laughing, tear flowing, choking, having to eventually leave the table to go blow our noses that left everyone else sitting at the table in stunned silence staring and wondering “what the heck just happened” events. We could not even sit back down at the table together and look at one another. My mother was completely insulted and we could not explain for the life of us what was so funny. Just writing this now places me on the edge of hysterical laughter. I know if my Yankee Aunt is reading this post, she can relate because we have talked about this phenomena on several occasions. Does anyone else have these occurrences with their siblings?

Hey Yankee Aunt….thanks for the phone call Saturday….I love and miss you and can not wait to see you in May. After that, we are going to meet somewhere in the middle and girl talk for a weekend. Hugs and Kisses.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

L-O-V-E is All That I Can Give to You!

Please forgive me! I am running a temperature of 101. Every bone in my body aches. The flu bug has arrived in our home, so I am blaming this post on my diseased, wracked brain.

This easy Pet-A-Cure Works-For-Me-Wednesday. Go visit Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer. She will tell you all about canker sore remedies plus you will find many more useful links than mine.

I am also feeling the Love On Wednesday with Colorado Lady.
Suzanne has some Romantic Treasures to share that you will L-O-V-E.

Thanks for reading, a sick Rosie.

Update on Dad

My dad made it through last weeks chemo treatments extremely well and I know it is due to all the prayers going up for him. He was not sick at all, just very weak and tired and the tired mostly came from sitting at the oncologist office four hours every day. He received his shot on Saturday morning and I spent most of the day with him while my mother attended a women's gathering at our church. Dad did not like the idea that I was "baby sitting" him, and really I was not; but in case he did get sick and needed help, I was with him. I dusted for Mom, which is a daunting task with all of her "pretties" displayed, dried and folded some clothes, baked and iced a cake, and made funny conversation with my dad. I do not think I have mentioned that my dad is nearly deaf and making conversation with him is a real experience. If he is not wearing his hearing aids, he can not hear at all and sometimes, even then, I wonder if they really help. Making conversation with him is exhausting because you have to yell and repeat everything. It is funny and sad at the same time. Add to the mix a television turned up so loud the neighbors can hear and it becomes a brain rattling experience. But I am not complaining because I am glad to help them. Big C and Big I are learning a lot through this process as well and the guys actually took their Granddaddy for his chemo treatment on Friday because I had to work. (My Mom does not drive on the highway. Another story, another time.) The boys will either resent me and put me in a nursing home one day, or take really good care of me. Anyway, that is where we are this week. Dad goes back to the oncologist on Thursday and will get some scan results back (pray for good results) and they will also schedule the next round of chemo which should begin around November 10 depending on his white blood cell count.

Please continue to keep up surrounded with your prayers because, "The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective." James 5:16. We feel His supernatural peace that only He can give. It is with us all the time.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

Crestwood, Sweetwater, Wipeout and Ironman

For Big I’s 12th birthday in September, my Dad gave him an antique Crestwood electric guitar and a small new Marshall amplifier. The guitar is a 1960’s Crestwood which is the Japanese version of a Gibson guitar. It once belonged to my Dad’s younger brother. Big I fell in love with a Gibson when we were in Memphis in May. I could not justify buying such an expensive guitar at his young age, which was good because Dad already had acquired the antique guitar for him at that time without our knowledge. Dad had it completely rewired and restrung. My Much Older Brother, according to my Mom, performed his unequivocal magic, polishing and cleaning until it shone like new. I must say it is a beauty and has a sweet tone. The amp came from Sweetwater and yes there was candy packaged with it, that is Sweetwater's trademark. Big I was stunned speechless when he opened this mega surprise.

It has been a lifetime goal for my Dad that one of his children or grandchildren learn to play an acoustic guitar. I had no interest in learning to play. My Much Older Brother, who can leap tall buildings in a single bound, liked to play the bass. I grew up listening to “Ironman” by Black Sabbath rattling my bedroom floor more times than I can count, but that is not what my dad had in mind. Anyway, maybe it was because my Dad never learned to play or maybe it was admiration of his younger brother, I cannot say, but when Big I took up the acoustic guitar so quickly and progressed so fast, my Dad was beside himself with joy. He insisted that his grandson have an electric guitar and went about working out the details of his agenda. At first, he was going to wait and give it to Big I at Christmas but he decided to give it for his birthday instead. I am so glad that he did. With more chemo treatments looming in his future and the unknown effects, he may not have been able to enjoy the moment later. He sure did enjoy the moment on Big I’s birthday. We all did. It was a memorable day.

Big I is working on “Wipeout” by the Beach Boys. BTW - my Much Older Brother recently bought a brand-spanking new Fender bass guitar and has been in cahoots with Big I. I hear/fear "Ironman" is in my future.

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

News I Would Rather Not Share

This post is hard for me to write and it will be short because I am tired. My Mom called me Tuesday evening to update us on my Dad’s latest PET scan results. His cancer is back. Spots in both lungs and a small spot on his liver were visible from the PET scan. He will start chemo again on October 20th going Monday thru Friday for a thirty-minute treatment each day and then on Saturday to receive the shot to raise his white cell count. After twenty-one days, he will go back to chemo for another round. We were so hoping that he would stay in remission for a bit longer. There is no cure for small cell lung cancer so we knew the cancer would return at some point, we just hoped it would be later than sooner. At this time, we are not sure how many rounds of chemo to expect.

Needless to say, my family is sad. My dear sister-in-love reminded me recently that God uses difficult circumstances to refine us. “You cannot go around it, you cannot go over it, you cannot go under it, you have to go through it in order to receive the refining God intends for your life.” When I keep that in mind for each of my family members and especially for my Dad, it puts this situation in a more spiritual perspective. Looking at circumstances through a spiritual lens helps me focus on God’s plan. God’s plan is perfect, sometimes painful, but always for good and He promises He will be with us through it all.

My request from you, dear readers, is to pray for strength for our family and especially for my Dad. Pray for my Mom as she takes care of Dad's day to day needs. Pray that I stay healthy both physically and mentally to be of help to my parents. Pray for Big C and Big I as they deal with watching their Grand Daddy fight this disease.

I will update you as I know more.

Thank you for reading, Rosie.

Happy Birthday Isaac

Thirteen years ago today, I gave birth to a strapping 8 lb. 14 oz. baby boy! What an exciting day for our family. It had taken a long six and one-half years from the birth of my first son to bring another baby into this world. We were more than ready for this new little guy and welcomed him warmly. What a tremendous blessing he is to us and what entertainment he brings to our lives. Aaah – the memories of that day...if I could bottle that feeling, I could make a million.

3:00 a.m. September 30, 1996…

I am dreaming and in my dream, there is a lot of pain.
Suddenly, I wake up and there is still a lot of pain.
I am not dreaming; I am in labor!

No need to panic, it took me three days to get my firstborn into this world. I will not wake MDH up until I think I should go to the hospital. I will time my contractions for a bit. I go into the den and turn on Turner Classic Movies.

Contraction. Breathe.

I find the 1957 version of Peyton Place just coming on. I have never seen this movie, maybe I will watch for a bit.

Contraction. Breathe.

The movie is good and I wonder why the 1950’s are traditionally considered a chaste decade. Lana Turner is beautiful. Why do they not make bras like that anymore?

Contraction. Breathe.

I am hungry. Maybe I should eat something. NO! The last time I gave birth, I ate something and vomited during a hard contraction. Never mind, I will just finish this movie.

Contraction. Breathe.

Gee, four minutes apart. These things are coming fast. Maybe I should put on my makeup and shave my legs. I looked terrible the last time I gave birth. I want my makeup on this time. Off to the bathroom.

Contraction. Breathe.

Thirty minutes and four contractions later I look somewhat better. Let’s see what Lana is up to now, the tramp.

Contraction. Breathe. Contraction. Breathe.
Maybe I should wake MDH up. Naaaaah!

I want to see the end of this movie.

Only, about thirty more minutes.

Contraction. Contraction. Contraction. Pant. Pant. Pant.

I crawl to the bedroom.
WAKE UP!!!!!
Get your clothes on and take me to the hospital because I am in labor!!!

How long have you been in labor?

About four hours.

How far apart are the contractions?

About a minute.

Contraction. Pant.

Why didn’t you wake me sooner?

I was watching the 1957 version of Peyton Place.
I have never seen it before and I wanted to see what happened to trampy Lana Turner.

Contraction. Pant. Pant.

We find ourselves speeding to the hospital. After I am checked in and situated in my room, I am attached to fifteen different monitors. By this time, I am almost dilated to six.

Where is my epidural! Please bring that large needle and shove it into my spine!

Aaah – that feels much better. No more pain. I actually sleep a few hours.

It is time to push. I hate this part. Push! Push!

3:55 p.m. September 30, 1996…

I push twice and am handed a gorgeous baby boy!

Easy as pie!

Can anyone tell me what happened on Peyton Place?

Just kidding, I read the book.

Happy Birthday Daddy-O!

The Birthday Boy!

Last weekend we celebrated my dad’s 80th birthday. My brother, who is eight years older than I am (there have been questions about that recently and I want to make it clear that he is OLDER than I am), and I invited friends and family to his beautiful home to share the celebration, and what a great time we had! My dad has had a difficult year. He endured eighteen rounds of chemotherapy and lost his hair. Fortunately, his cancer is in remission for now so this was a perfect opportunity to celebrate his life.

Family dynamics is complicated, but to appreciate my dad you have to have a little background. Dad had four brothers and three sisters and he outlived them all. Raised in a strict Catholic family, when he left the Catholic faith, he encountered great discrimination from his siblings. He became the joke of his family and was treated badly at many gatherings. I remember as a child our family being thrown out of his sister’s home because my dad took a stand against his brothers drinking alcohol with so many small children around. Nevertheless, he stood firm in his beliefs, kept his integrity, led our family in devotions every night, read his Bible and prayed every day, and tried to share with his siblings about his personal relationship with Jesus. My dad is not perfect, he battles a bad temper (of which I've been the wrath of more than once) and depression (which I inherited), but looking back on events in his life, it is no wonder he struggles in those areas with all the pressure his family laid on him. All these years have passed and I think his youngest brother, although he remained Catholic, finally came to know Christ before he died which was a great comfort to my dad. He has a nephew who also left the Catholic faith and became a Baptist minister. He can very much relate. He attended dad’s party and shared with me what an example dad had been to him over the years and how dad experienced persecution from his family that many Christian never encounter. What a testimony to my Dad’s faithfulness!

Daddy is not “famous” in our small community. He is not known for being involved in civic organizations, having a lot of money, playing great golf, teaching an amazing Sunday School class or organizing soup kitchens to feed the hungry. He gives generously to many things, but he does so quietly and without fanfare. He practices Matthew 6:1-4: “Be careful not to do your 'acts of righteousness' before men, to be seen by them. If you do, you will have no reward from your Father in heaven. Therefore, when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and on the streets, to be honored by men. I tell you the truth; they have received their reward in full. However, when you give to the needy, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your giving may be in secret. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”

My dad will never make the cover of Volunteer of the Year. What you will see, if you stop and look deep enough, is a plain fellow who has remained faithful to the Lord. He realizes his value is in Christ alone and not of works, “lest any man should boast.” The lessons I have learned from him are simple ones. The world could use a few more of these quiet, steady men. By the way, my parents celebrated their 57th wedding anniversary this week also. What a wonderful example!

Thanks for reading, Rosie.

One of my nieces.

I love this picture of my niece. But she doesn't. Why do young beautiful girls always hate how they look?

Graduation 2008

I'll let the pictures tell the story tonight.

Graduation Day is Here!

My stomach is in knots today. This comes from two sources: (1) the anticipation of watching my Big C graduate tonight; and (2) leaving early in the morning on our long anticipated trip. The least bit of excitement in my life causes my tummy to throw a fit. That is why I like to keep things here very routine. Heaven forbid when my routine gets mixed up at the last minute. It takes a bottle of Pepto and about two days to get my stomach back to normal. Every emotion I feel (anger, joy, sorrow, worry, etc.) passes from my brain to my stomach in two seconds flat. Then I shut down. I have to sleep to get past it. I think I'll go take a nap....