The Fountain Of Youth

I'VE FOUND IT!!!!!

When I get up in the morning, everything hurts. My muscles are stiff, my back hurts, my plantar fasciitis is agonizing. I suck it up and gut it out: I walk on the treadmill, work in the garden, chase little kids, move the chicken house, hang out the laundry, and after a day of lifting that bale and toting that barge, I feel every day of my years. Long before bedtime, I am ready to give in, and I'm not surprised when I wake up with Charley Horse a few hours later. That's the way it is at home.

But here! Out here in magical California, things are different! I cook, fetch and carry, do errands, work in the garage, take out the dumpsters (ours and the neighbors' for a grand total of seven, and those suckers are heavy!). Throw in my little mother and her sister to take care of, and just like at home, it adds up to hard labor. By 7 o'clock, it's bedtime at the old folks' home. They are all tucked into their recliners, in their pj's, for an evening of Mexican Dr. Phil. I've still got hours to go, but you know what, NOTHING HURTS!!!

So. What's the deal? Do I recommend California? Nope. I've given this some thought, and I'm pretty sure I've got it figured out.

At home, I am just about the oldest person around, but here...well, the opposite. There is no Fountain of Youth, not really. What there is though, is two old great/grandmas, and there's nothing like a couple of 80+yo's to make a 50-something grandma feel like a KID!

In the final analysis, it's all kinda "relative"....

A Tale of Two Summers

YAY! Summer! Not. Summer is far and away my least favorite season, but this one promised Pure Promise: a new(ish) house, a trip to Jamaica, a trip to California, and TWO visits from our cadet! What could be better? Well, as it happens...

Good Summer: A new house! Well, new to us. Definitely not our dream house, but we have discovered that our dream house doesn't exist. At least not in our price range.

More Good Summer: A visit from the cadet! Having him safe at home in his own little bed is reason enough worth living for, all by itself. But having him at home to lend some friendly muscle to toting that barge and lifting that bale, What could top that?!

More Good Summer yet: Our first trip to Jamaica, and all expenses paid! Jamaica absolutely lived up to every expectation. Waterfalls, beaches, open-air restaurants, humorous road signs, flowers in cascades of rainbows, good weather~complete with a summer storm~and friendly natives. But as much as we liked the "Jamaica" stamp in our passport, nothing measures up to the "America" stamp at the end of the trail. Well, to be perfectly honest, there is no "America" stamp, only a disappointing electronic swipe. But if there were an "America" stamp, it would definitely be the best.

And this is when the Promise fell apart.

Bad Summer: One day after we arrived back in the Land of the Free, our cadet showed up for his second visit. That is always cause for celebration, and so far so good. But one day after his arrival, one of our darling daughters got sick. Fine one day, deathly sick the next, with not an instant of warning.

For her: emergency room visits, tests, scans, labs, appointments with doctors of every specialty. Threats of lupus, Crone's disease, cancer, leukemia, kidney infections, and who-knows-what other unnamed horrors.

For me: grandma-ing in spades. Breakfasts and lunches, laundries, beds, toys, you-name-it, for four little almost-motherless kidlets. Keeping two houses going is not for sissies, and only the bare minimum got done at either place. My house, four months later, still looks like we moved in yesterday.

Thank God that the other grandmother, who lives in the area was able and willing to do the afternoon shift. There went eight weeks. And finally, armed with a freezer full of ready-to-eat meals and an accommodating husband, darling daughter was able to hold her own. Nothing heroic yet, but at least essential functions. So it was time for California for me.

Good summer: California! Sorta. I am NOT a fan of California, but my mom lives there, and my brother, who lives in Japan, was coming for a visit, so that is worthwhile anyplace. It was a trip to remember, dusting off old memories, and making new ones. We were kids again, visiting the house we lived in, playing in the house where we used to visit our cousins half a century ago, doing some touristy things, meeting the new neighbors, enjoying the 107-degree record-breaking heat that we thought we had left at home. Oh, no, scratch that last one. It goes under Bad Summer.

Bad summer: My little mother's health is failing. She can no longer get around without the help of a cane or a walker. Her beloved garden and outside birds now take up far more time than they used to, but...in a way, time is what she has now. Some things she simply can do no more. She gave up driving, leaving her at the mercy of whomever will take the time to take her the few places she needs to go. I am sandwiched between the realization of the mortality of my daughter on one side and of my mother on the other side.

At last home again, home again, to things precariously balanced, but ok for the moment. Nothing good happened at home while I was gone. My house still looked like we moved in yesterday, and my paperwork was piled sky-high. Neither of those has shown any significant improvement. But nothing terribly bad happened, either, and though my darling daughter has had another small relapse or two, she is overall very much better, a fact for which we are very thankful, even though we still don't know what ails her.

Just to top off the bad-ness of the summer, shortly after I came home my internet went on strike. Two weeks later, I am still internet-less, on begged and borrowed computer time, and really, no relief on the horizon that I can see. Trivial in the big scheme of things, I know, but how frustrated do I want to be. Technology is wonderful. When it works, but, alas.... And now I am ashamed to even include this little irritation in my bad summer, because the hits just kept on coming.

More Bad Summer: Two days later we had word that our little 3-year-old friend died suddenly. Her grandmother and I were homeschooling moms together about a hundred years ago, when our children were young. A lot of things can happen in 25 years, and what happened was that our children grew up and became parents themselves. This little girl suffered some major injuries at birth, and her life was severely compromised. She was blind, and at the age of 3 still did not sit up or even hold her own head up. We always knew that "someday" this would happen, but we had no way to know that it would be as simple and sudden, and shocking, as a cold when she was visiting her other grandmother in Florida with her family. I am once again acutely confronted with mortality in a place you don't usually find it.

Yet more of a Bad Summer: My daughter's precious mother-in-law, so selfless and generous all summer long with her time and her resources, has been diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer. All the more unbelievable because she was perfectly fine until only five days before, but since then, every day she is visibly worse than the day before.

What could possibly measure up to a summer that set out to be so promising? Well, as it turned out, maybe nothing. Maybe nothing at all. Maybe what trumps everything is the uneventful, everyday, ordinary day.

A Housewife's Life - August

This brought to mind Jenny Wren's "A Day in My Life" from awhile back. That was always fun to write, and it's fun to look back at now and then and be reminded of all the little ordinary things that make up a lifetime.

I was out of the house by 6:15 this morning for Mom Duty. C has been having some health issues for the last month or so, and today I took her to her fluoroscopy appointment ~ basically a 2-and-a-half-hour x-ray. Good thing I remembered my book!

After the appointment we stopped briefly at the bookstore, and by then it was well into lunchtime, so we drove through our favorite drive-thru, Chick-Fil-A, on our way home.

When we got home we found the other grandma watching Mickey Mouse with the little kids while the big kids played a round of football against a team of stuffed animals.

I spent the rest of the day trying to figure out what to do next. We moved recently and still have piles and piles of boxes all over the house waiting to be unpacked and put away, or better yet, donated. Gotta get busy on that!

After dinner I watched NCIS. I usually have a date to watch it with M on IM, but he had better things to do tonight, so I just caught up folding the laundry while I watched the rerun, and later I shopped for an airline ticket for a trip to California to visit my mom and her sister, and my brother and his family who will be there from Japan for a couple of weeks.

Now it's bedtime, and it's still HOT! Nothing like going to bed and sweating all night under the fan.

Definitive Guide to Moving

Don't.

Christmas Continued

No kidlets in this house on Xmas morning. That is a first for us in the last 35 years. Not a happy first.

This year, my very first not to host Xmas dinner at my house, C and I are sharing the kitchen favors. My duty is to make the classic green bean casserole and the dressing for the turkey, which C is going to cook, and while I am busy not cooking the turkey, I am answering a series of phone calls from C.

Once we get everything ready here, we are off to the second shift of Xmas at C's house, where she and De have cooked their very first turkey. Everything is well in hand, the turkey is eminently edible! and, unlike last Xmas, this dinner goes off uneventfully.

C's extra guests include their sweet little neighbors, a young army family with two small children. Having gone home to Utah for Thanksgiving, they are, or would be, spending Xmas alone at home. They are pleasant company, and ever so appreciative, repeatedly expressing thanks for the invitation.

We eat, we visit, we open presents, we talk, we play games, we clean up. And eventually it is time to call it a day. So we divvy up the leftovers and head home, to our Xmas-less house. Well, Xmas-less it would be, but our cadet comes home with us, so we are happily blessed.

Another Xmas goes to memory, and another year. 2010 is just ahead. 2010??? Now if someone would tell me it was 1999 coming up, that I could believe!

'Twas the Week Before Xmas

Sunday ~ Xmas tree is leaning forlornly against the side of the house, waiting, waiting, waiting to come in! I give C instructions to take the turkey out of the freezer today. I start thinking about writing Xmas cards. But just thinking about it.

Monday ~ Today is spent last-minute tidying. M is due at 8:45 tonight, but his plane is early, of all things, and we find him standing on the sidewalk in front of the terminal. On our way home we stop briefly at C's to disrupt their bedtime and then hit the Taco Bell drive-thru.

Tuesday ~ Dark and early I am up to put Cajun Beef Stew, at M's request, in the crockpot, my very favorite kitchen servant. Ordinarily M spends his mornings at home sleeping. But today he gets up early-ish and brings in the Xmas tree! Then we go out for last-minute Xmas shopping and other errands. After lunch we head to C's to make Xmas cookies. Then we come home to eat and run. It's Xmas caroling night! When we get home M dresses the Xmas tree with lights, half of which don't work. They worked when we put them away last year, so....????

Wednesday ~ Another dark and early morning. M goes off with the chimney sweep. I stay home and write a couple of Xmas cards. The guys come back for lunch, and later C and crew come over for dinner. And Xmas-tree decorating. I may start a "Twelve Days of Christmas Tree Decorations" tradition.

Thursday ~ Xmas Eve! Snow flurries!!! Early morning grocery shopping. And that's it! Positively NO MORE shopping before Xmas!!!! More writing of more Xmas cards, and this afternoon M is off to spend the night at C's. Guess why? Because he doesn't think it's proper to wake up on Xmas morning in a kidless-house? I must say I agree. But, he is the kidlet of this house, so What? About? Us??? Except for the first Xmas we were married, we have never had a Xmas morning without kidlets, so I guess we are getting ready to find out what that's like.

Still to do ~ dressing and green bean casserole to cook, presents to wrap, still Xmas cards to write and plenty more where those came from.

We have to share S with his in-laws, so we had Xmas with his family last week; D, alas, is off in the wilds of Kansas, trapped, thanks to Global Warming, in the Blizzard of the Century, so we will not be seeing them anytime soon. But tomorrow, M and C+...

Christmas coming up!

Christmas, First Shift

S and G and the Blue-Eyed Boy live in a maze in some remote part of the county. Every time we go there it's a whole new world, and we can't remember the way. Or maybe it's that we always come from a different direction...? In any case, yesterday was no exception.

We knew which exit to take off the highway, but...then what? When the road dead ends do we turn left? Or do we turn right? What to do when we get to the high school? And which way is the church that we have to pass in order to get to the bridge? Time to call S for directions. Again. The same way, I'm embarrassed to say, we have to do every time we go to their house. Too bad he isn't answering the phone...

Fortunately, the Chimney Sweep gets around, and after a bit of wandering like the lost tribes of Israel, he saw something familiar and got an inspiration of how to proceed. YAY!! We arrived just minutes after C and D, the BB's, and the Other Princess.

Dinner strayed a bit from the usual, all in a good way: fried turkey, green bean bundles, peppermint cheesecake. Oh, and what was left of the mashed potatoes after the crockpot tipped over in the car at the stop sign.

Presents, too, anything anybody could possibly want...

• pj's
• legos
• books
• games
• scented candles
• soft, fuzzy gripper socks
• puzzles
• gadgets

...and the first shift of Xmas passes to memory.

D is still off traipsing the wilds of Kansas and will not be home at all this year, but next year lurks on the horizon getting closer by the minute.

M, happily, will be home tomorrow evening. So...Xmas, Part II, coming up!

The Thing About Moms...

...is that once you are the mom, you are never not the mom.

It doesn't matter that your kidlets are grown up:

• C is a competent, capable SAHM with four little kidlets of her own;
• While I once patrolled the halls at night checking on all the kidlets sleeping safely in their little beds, now S, a police officer, is on the prowl out there making the world safe for me to sleep in;
• D, mom of two, is halfway acroxx the country in Kansas of all places, making the most of what comes and the least of what goes;
  
• And halfway acroxx the country in another direction, M is becoming a soldier who will have my back on another front.

That's it. They're all grown up. They are adults. They are all responsible, contributing citizens. And they are still my kidlets. I am still the mom. They still check in. We communicate. We visit, we txt, we email, we fb, we im, we talk on the phone.

And it was while I wandered around the house last night, talking on my cordless phone to one of the dd's, that I had my latest epiphany: Phones may have become cordless, but mothers never will.

The Three-Party Day

Friendships are like anything else of value: they come at a cost, and one day last month I paid in spades.

• First up a baby shower, in a town 20 miles west of here, for a young mom-to-be, known to us before she herself was born. I had initially considered riding with a friend, but then I re-considered after realizing I would probably have to leave before the party broke up.

• Next in line, back in my own home town, was a bridal shower for the daughter of a friend. A luau. This was the *dinner* part of my day, but due to a reluctant gas grill, no one on hand who knew how to operate it, and a steady wind that quickly put out any flame that dared actually to light, dinner was just a vision of dreams to come by the time I had to leave that party. Early.

• The final event of the day, in the third town of the day 30 miles to the east, was a recital/high school graduation ceremony for another young lady who not so very long ago was just a little scrap of a girl. I coaxed my Man along for this with the promise of a reception to follow. Between our late start and not knowing exactly where we were going, we completely missed the recital part of the program, but we were there for the graduation. After the graduation was the perfect time for the visiting of old friends and the eating of cheesecake in a host of flavors we'd never heard of, but by that time my Man was hungry(er), and while I don't have any such qualms, he just isn't one to eat dessert before he's had some food. Not even cheesecake. :-(

So we compromised. I still got to talk with everyone I saw that I knew, but not for long. We took off for a quick stop at Chick-Fil-A to go, and then home again, home again, by...oh, 9:30 or so.

I'm really pretty much of a homebody. Give me an uninterrupted day at home and I am thoroughly happy, so a day like today wouldn't ordinarily be a great day in my book. But it is the price of friendship, and who am I to argue with that.

Besides, on reflection, it worked out rather well. The parties were nicely staggered, and we got to see a host of old friends, some of whom we had not seen in years... And, all on the same dress-up. ;-) Can't beat that!

The Proof Is In The Pudding

Is this an empty-nested world or what? I suppose technically so, since M left over a year ago, but what with the frequent presence of the Blue-Eyed Boy, and then having D and the two little girls living with us for a few months, it was easy to disabuse ourselves of the notion.

Well, the Blue-Eyed Boy has started school :-( so we do not see him as frequently as we used to; and D and the girls have long gone to Kansas, to be seen only on very special occasions. So "home alone" is now pretty much the norm around here.

Some things stubbornly remain the same: the grass still grows just as fast, dust collects just the same, the cars still need the same amount of washing. But other things relentlessly emphasize the empty nest:

• There is no more sleeping with one eye open waiting for the squeak of the door that announces the last kidlet's return home for the night;
• Laundry, once done at the rate of 2-3 loads every day, is now done 2-3x a week;
• Cooking has dropped from 2+ times a day down to once every day or two;
• Even dishwashing, the once-upon-a-time, 3x-a-day dreaded chore now happens maybe once a day.

But the other day something happened that well and truly struck home, reinforcing once-and-for-all, that the empty nest is official. It was a simple thing, really, as turning points often are, recognizable only in retrospect. It happened like this:

The other day, somewhat desperately wondering "What's for dinner?" I decided to make an omelet. My mother taught me growing up to keep two dozen eggs on duty at all times, and this I have done faithfully for the last 30+ years, though over the past year, it has pretty much gone to one dozen. Well, this particular evening, I reached for the one lonely dozen in the refrigerator only to notice the *expiration date* of August 6th. Hm... only three weeks out of date.

And that's when it hit me: We not only don't need two dozen eggs on hand, one dozen is even too much. I have always pitied those blue-haired little old ladies in the grocery store buying their little six-packs of eggs to stock their little kitchens. And now . . . NOOOOOOO . . . I am just like them!!!! Well, not quite. I don't have blue hair. But other than that . . . I am, sadly, too much like one of them.

Eggs . . . or the lack thereof . . . an apt measure, indeed, of an empty nest.

One Year In

We are one year, and a little bit more, into a seriously empty-nested life.

A few days ago we had a surprise phone call from M. His only agenda was chit-chat, and he asked what I was doing. "Knitting a baby blanket," I told him.

Then he asked what his dad was doing. "Watching a PBS show about Pennsylvania diners," I said.

And then there was a l-o-n-g pause. "Did I call the house" asked M, "or did I call the old folks' home?"

Hmmmm....good question.

Happy Father's Day!

• First call of the day bright and early from D in Kansas.
• Church with C and family.
  
• Cookout lunch and backyard swimming and Wii games with C's family and S's family.
• Baseball game with S and Gi and the Blue-Eyed Boy.
• Phone call from rain-drenched M, standing at the foot of Cell Phone Hill at Buckner.

And that is everyone heard from and accounted for. What else can a dad want? Happy Father's Day!

Surprise!

Yesterday the Unknown Caller phoned. I am always just a little bit afraid of answering, but since M's # shows up that way, and chances to talk to him are few and far between, I am always afraid not to answer as well. You never know what you're going to get...always a surprise, but not always a good surprise. Well, this time it was...in the voice of Cadet A at West Point. That in and of itself is surprise enough. But even moreso...!

M was granted grad leave! Several months ago, when he realized accepting the opportunity-of-a-lifetime, too-good-to-turn-down, all-expenses-paid trip to Israel would mean little to no leave at home this summer, he applied for grad leave. Having heard nothing since, we reasonably concluded that it was denied and went to Plan B: four days between Graduation and Israel. So, yesterday, at the very last minute, he got the good word: Grad leave approved! This means not only that he is authorized to miss marching in the Graduation Day parade, but he gets to come home for almost two whole weeks. This, as the currently hot saying goes, is huge, calling for a huge change of plans all around, but we're up for it.

All M had to do, after his final TEE ("final" in civilian) was finished this morning, was get his typhoid shot for Israel, pack up and move out of his room, sell his books back to the bookstore, change his airline ticket, and arrange a ride to the train. If he seriously put himself in turbo, he could have made the 5 o'clock plane tonight, but that allowed only for everything to go smoothly, and things don't generally happen that perfectly in our world. In any case, this way he gets to go to a show on Broadway with his friends tonight and then sleep a few hours at the Soldiers', Sailors', Coast Guard & Airmen's Club, Inc for only $25, unless, of course he checks out early. He plans on catching the 3 a.m. bus to the airport for his 7:30-ish flight, so I'm pretty sure that qualifies. That puts the cost down to $10 for the night, and if he notifies them ahead of time, well then it goes down to $5. One more cadet perk, and you just can't beat that!

All I had to do around here is cram into one day what I had planned to do in the next almost-two weeks. Dust, vac, tidy M's room, put fresh sheets on the bed, and the same in the guest room for D and the Princess and the Gingerbread Cookie, who will be here for a week in honor of M. M and a couple of the little kidlets have birthdays in this time frame, so there is that to plan for, not to mention, speaking of HUGE, daily rations for a big boy who is tired of dining hall food. And speaking of even more HUGE....I have been re-arranging some furniture the last couple of days, and one room in particular is a disaster, but oh, well.

If we have learned anything from this year, we have learned that in order to get along with West Point, you have to be two things:

• Extremely structured. Things are planned to the nanosecond more than a year ahead of time, and you better be ready to hurry up and wait; and
• Extremely flexible. It's all about the last minute, and you better be ready to jump at every eleventh hour opportunity.
  

The last I heard from M was a text message: "We're on the train." M is on his way home! Me, I am on my way to bed. Gotta be ready for that drive to the airport and back tomorrow.

Welcome home, M!

Back to Business

The world conspires to keep me running ragged with NOTHING to show for it. My life has been deadline-driven for the last...how long...with the next/last one coming right up: TEA Party Day. Am I ready? I am not. The dining room is overrun with piles of papers and receipts and calendars, planners, work orders, and proposals. I am feverishly trying to sort it all out before the taxman cometh. Hmmm...exactly one week to go, and things don't look promising.

I miss writing, but my brain is too full to think. All sorts of things are running around in it. So many that I can barely sort them out. So I don't. Instead, I escape. You know what they say ~ When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Well, I'm going as fast as I can! Not that it's getting me anywhere.

Facebook is always good for an easy escape. Lots of fun and not much thinking required. AGH! How I look down on those lessers forever in escape mode. Now I am one of them. :-/ Well...what goes around comes around, and the time has come.

It's officially late and getting later by the minute. It might even be tomorrow.

So. Back to business? I hope so, soon. Right after garden club, a tax day TEA party, politics as usual, Dave Ramsey's Town Hall for Hope, helping C and De move their household, the annual Cherokee fish fry... Yep, by next month I should be able to start minding my own business. Unless, of course, someone/thing else is lying in wait.

Stay tuned.

A Juneuary Day, Sausage and Vegetable Linguini, and Good Cookies

I love those few-and-far-between stay-at-home days. They are oh-so-rare in the busy running of a life with no margin...!

We have been in winter's icy hand the last week or so...well, the Texas version, anyway...but today it took a break and we had a perfect spring day. June in January. It was a bit windy, no big deal for this Azore-raised girl, and a generally lovely day, even if one's tastes run to autumn.

D is here, along with the little girls, which always makes the most mundane the most exciting, as in "By myself it I would manage to get this done in 30 minutes, but with your help I can do it in three hours!" Cooking for instance. We did a lot of it today, crockpots, stovetop, and oven, all of which kept the kitchen nice and warm. A little too warm at times for this Juneuary day.
~~~~~~~
For lunch we had one of our all-time favorites, Sausage and Vegetable Linguini:

l lb. sausage, sliced
5 bell peppers, cut into strips
1 3-oz can of black olives, sliced
1 small bag of frozen peas
4-5 carrots, peeled and sliced
1 8-oz pkg linguini
1 c. Italian salad dressing
pinch of garlic
pinch of oregano

Cook pasta in one pot. In another pan saute sausage and veggies. Mix everything together. Serve hot or cold.

That's how the recipe reads. As usual, we change whatever we want. Fewer bell peppers, leave out the peas, more olives, spaghetti instead of linguini (are they really any different?!), whatever looks right that day.

Plain and simple, and GOOD! Eat it now, eat it later, hot, cold, part of a meal, or all by itself...YUM-YES!!!
~~~~~
And a recipe from my sorely missed bff Jo, Good Cookies:

2 chocolate cake mixes
1 brownie mix
3 eggs
3/4 c. oil
3/4 c. water
lots of options: chocolate chips, peppermint chips, crushed peppermint candy...

Mix everything together. This will be STIFF! You may want to get the he-man in your life to stir it up for you. Drop on the cookie sheet and bake at 350 till done (you're on your own for how long). You can refrigerate or freeze some of the dough for later, or, if you are cooking for the Army, as we were today, go ahead and cook the whole thing.

This isn't exactly a healthy recipe, but it makes a TON, and they are tasty, if you don't eat too many. You will have enough to pack up a box for the cadets at West Point, take to the neighbors, share with a friend, and still have some left for the little girls to smear all over their faces (and possibly other places). Nothing shabby about that!

Inaugural Parade

I am disappointed that M was marching in Obama's parade today, but I am thrilled that he was marching in the President's parade. In true West Point tradition, the cadets were thoroughly drilled and practiced, sub-freezing temperatures and any other problems be hanged, so I pretty much gave the activities of my day over to tv-watching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Corps of Cadets. It was a colossal waste of a day. Well, except for collecting some fodder for this blog. ;-)

After slogging through endless pre-inaugural and inaugural and post-inaugural hoopla, we were more than ready for the parade, which, "due to circumstances beyond our control," was an hour and a half late in starting. We did not know that the West Point Corps of Cadets would be at the very front of the parade, though we knew they would be close to the front, and we mistakenly perceived this as an advantage. We could not have been wrong-er.

Obama's arrival was "fashionably late," while the parade outside languished in the freezing weather. By the time it actually started, a goodly portion of the parade goers had simply given up and gone home, and rumor has it that some of the participants in the parade were suffering from hypothermia by then. All this while Obama, the man of the people, took his leisure getting settled into his front-row seat in his climate-controlled reviewing stand.

Well, ok, we ourselves can't really complain. Other than the wasted time, we were comfortable enough in front of our tv set in our own living room, ready for "America's parade," as it was described by the press. America's Parade? Cool! Bring it on!

Due to Obama's lateness in arriving in the reviewing stand, the parade had already begun to file past when he got there, and he completely missed the first set of flags that went by. We were able to catch a glimpse of the very tips of the flag poles looking over Obama's shoulder through the window, and then the camera showed a head-on shot of the approaching Army band followed by West Point. We were all set for a good parade.

Only a funny thing happened on the way to America's Parade. Instead of showing us the parade, we were shown one shot after another of Obama watching the parade. Or, more accurately, of Obama not watching the parade. The new Commander-in-Chief was far too busy glad-handing the people around him to be able to review his troops passing before him, with the first military unit not to get his attention being none other than the Corps of Cadets of West Point, traditionally the very first unit to march under arms for a new president.

The press did treat us to one very short glimpse of the cadets, mistakenly announced as "The United States Military." M had told us where he would be standing, so we knew where to look: second from the right, as they marched forward, with Obama not reviewing them on the left. Hmmm...M on the right, Obama on the left...Yes, that would be right...or "accurate," I guess I should say ;-) Well, it was good that we knew where to find him, because all we got was a nanosecond of a look before we were back watching Obama (not) watching.

And that was the parade. I hope that it isn't an omen of things to come to the military from the hand of their new Commander-in-Chief. Now we can only pray.

And so, good, bad, or ugly, I'm off to remove the "NObama" sticker from the back of my van...

The Last Day

Well, just a couple of hours in the car in the dark, not really a day at all, at least not on this end.

M and I left the house today at 4:20. AM. to catch the first flight of his trip, leaving at 7. He didn't actually have to be back at West Point until tomorrow, but as much as we would have enjoyed one more day with him, it was going to cost $500 to change his ticket, and as it develops, even outside of the $ factor, there are some definite advantages to giving yourself some margin. It definitely cuts down on the stress when

• you just commented on the great traveling conditions: good weather, good road, bare minimum of traffic, and suddenly you have to slam on the brakes when you come upon a sea of red lights on the road in front of you, and a whole herd of 18-wheelers and assorted other vehicles bring you to a complete standstill, with the only movement on the scene coming from one emergency vehicle after another screeching its way to somewhere down the road ahead of you, and you end up creating your own ramp to escape the interstate. Adventure driving at its finest. Just as you pull up to the feeder road, two more ambulances whiz by barely giving you time to stop, and then as you cruise down the access road toward the stoplight, you get a look at the cause of all the commotion: a dead 18-wheeler flat on its back, bellowing smoke into the night, sprawled across all southbound lanes of the interstate, attended by a host of ambulances, police cars, and fire trucks. And then just for good measure, the stop light holds you up for a good half hour. Ok, maybe not that long, but at least long enough to convince you to "run" the light. Or when

• you make it the airport with still enough time to make your flight (unlike the hapless wannabe passengers at the kiosk next to you who are firmly informed by the friendly computer that "It is too late to check in for your flight."), but then you run into an ignorant, overly-zealous security guard whose disdain for the military is blatantly obvious, causing him to direct you into a safe little glass cubicle where he abandons you until he gets good and ready to make an example of you to the airport at large, waving his little magic wand up and down your body, and then patting you vigorously up the front and down the back, making sure you stay put by holding your shoes hostage, and letting you go with barely enough time to make the "last call" for your flight, thus ensuring that you will not have time to file a complaint against him. And then

• you make it back to West Point a day ahead of your roommates, allowing you to choose your bed and your desk, register your phone, set up your computer, grab a laundry cart (uncontested) so you can move all of your stuff in one trip, no hurries, no worries; and the next day when the rest of the corps, suffering delayed flights and missed connections and other travel perils comes dragging in, you have a nice, leisurely day on your agenda, while theirs is overloaded with anxiety and stress, and they still have to move in and unpack.
  

What a difference a day makes....

Happy New Year! x2

New Year's Eve found us on our way to visit Little Granny at the nursing home in Kerrville. We don't get there often enough, and we wanted to be sure and make the trip while M was here.

As we walked up to the front door, we noticed a van unloading: speakers, amplifiers, guitars, microphones, they had it all, right down to the three men, dressed all in black, relieved only by a white bandanna tied around the throat. Black felt cowboy hats, black Western shirts, black pants, and black...I had sorta expected black cowboy boots, but nope...canvas, tennie-style shoes (black, of course)...?!

We went around them into the lobby and immediately noticed people were beginning to gather. Some were seated in chairs placed around every edge of the room, others were being wheeled in, still others were shuffling along in their walkers. Whaddya know, it's PARTY TIME!! And we are just in time!!!

We collected Little Granny from her room, and settling in on one of the couches, we observed the remaining party preparations. As "The Sounds of Yester-Year" set up their stage, one of them commented, "I hope we get out of here early. I want to have some champagne tonight," and over in the dining room, aides were busily arranging fancy cookies on plates and pouring champagne ("With?" or "Without?") into fancy glasses.

I was tired, and it was the perfect time for a nap. Not a real nap of course, mostly just "resting my eyes." Anyway, how much sleep could I get with the Princess continually poking and pinching me while the sounds of the Lonesome Whippoorwhil and the Chattanooga Choo Choo were blazing away just inches from my right ear...? As I said, it wasn't a real nap, although I confess I was unaware of the aide standing in front of me until she very pointedly shouted, "Cookie?" at me. And she did mean "a" cookie, so I took care to choose only the very best...which, after it was too late to trade, turned out to be some sort of fruitcake cookie... Yum-no.

Well, that pretty well finished my pseudonap. While the Men in Black carried on valiantly with their repertoire, an aide passed out party hats and horns and tiaras and noise makers, after which came an announcement:

"We are going to count down the New Year! At 3 o'clock!"

Well, I supposed it would be the New Year somewhere in the world, even if not in Kerrville, Texas, and it looked like the members of the band were going to get their wish to go home early. I couldn't help noticing, though, that when the aide offered them champagne, they chose theirs "with." Hmmm.... champagne now, champagne later. New Year's x2 for the Men in Black.

Fifteen minutes later it was 3 o'clock, and right on time, the countdown began. Upon reaching "0", the Sounds of Yester-Year began their twangy rendition of "Old Lang Syne," something I hadn't ever heard before, and as for the noise makers and the horn blowers, let me just say that was one lively party! A whole lot livelier than our next one nine hours later... Party now, party later. New Year's x2 for us.

Shortly after the countdown we took off for a short visit with Aunt Fiona and her new husband. We still had a long trip ahead of us, but no hurries, after all... we had all year in front of us.

Happy New Year! Happy New Year!

Xcitement at Xmas

...waaaay too much of it, and not the right kind.

Like every Xmas past, this one started innocently enough ~ up dark and early to a full house of noisy, xcited kidlets. At least it sounded like a full house, but a closer xamination revealed only two: the Princess and the Gingerbread Cookie. We had the dark part right, though, and the first round of Santa Claus took place by the illumination of twinkling Xmas tree lights.

Presents opened, trash cleaned up, ham in the oven, and here comes Part II: C, De, the Other Princess, and, reminiscent of Dr. Seuss's Thing 1 and Thing 2, our own BB1, BB2, and BB3. Ok, now it really is a full house, and so far so good.

After another bout of presents, the bulk of the kidlets went outside to play "football" with Uncle M. The ones that didn't go outside wanted to, and therein began the problem. D closed the door to prevent the escape of the Other Princess and the Gingerbread Cookie into the wild world of the front yard unescorted, and they began to sob with abandon, in the way I often want to, but, alas, am not afforded the luxury. While GC ran into the kitchen to pout and cry, the loud protests of OP were suddenly silenced when she lost her breath.

OP has been diagnosed with one of those acronymic conditions: "RAS," a seizure sort of a disorder. It isn't seizures so much in a neurological sense, but more a case of passing out when she loses her breath. According to the pedi-neuro, who has examined her extensively, this extremely common disorder which affects one out of four children is not life-threatening, but it is scary.

C, as always on the alert, tried to head her off at the pass. She yelled at De, who came running in from the football game, but their best efforts failed, and OP passed out. De tried to call 911, but true to form, our up-to-the-minute 3rd-world class telephone service had no dial tone, so 911 was summoned by cell phone while C continued trying to resuscitate her patient. I asked C what 911 normally did when they came, but she did not know; OP normally wakes up before they get there. This time she did not.

So when 911 showed up they placed OP in the ambulance, and while they worked on her they interviewed C, suddenly interrupting their medical questioning to ask, "Are you S's sister?" But never mind that. They could not wake OP up, so they took off with C and De aboard to meet the helicopter at the high school parking lot two blocks away.

D and my Man drove to the high school to meet them while I did the duty that never ends: KP. The food was ready to put on the table, but thoughts of dinner no longer figured on anyone's radar, so I put the food away to be considered at a later time.

C was allowed to accompany OP on the helicopter, and De came home with D and my Man. He rounded up the BB's and M and they took off for the hospital, 30 minutes away. D and I finished putting the food away, and then the rest of us saddled up to follow.

When we got to the hospital, we were met by S and Gi, who was on duty in the ER that day. She gave us the report: OP is awake and she is stable and they are waiting for the doctor. The doctor, when she finally showed up, was very cute and personable, but...she looked like a teenager! ACK! I'm not sure she was old enough to have a driver's license, but she seemed to know what she was doing and dismissed OP after a brief consult with the parents.

By this time it was late afternoon, and everyone was starving. C and her bunch headed for the in-laws, only a few hours late, and the rest of us came home to eat our Xmas dinner leftovers. (Are they still leftovers if they were never used the first time?). C and all showed up here again after dinner at the in-laws, loaded up their Xmas goodies, and went home. M went home with them, and the rest of us settled in for a long winter's nap.

OP turned two in November, and according to the pedi-neuro, RAS is typically outgrown by the age of three. So. Here's hoping to only one more year to go...

Safe At Home!

We got our boy home last night! Just barely. Thanks to his early TEE's, he was one step ahead of the evil blizzard that crippled travel in the Northeast, and hours ahead of his classmates, all of whom managed to make it out of West Point, only to become stranded at various area airports and other places.

Amazingly enough, even with all the snow and the scare and the delay, M's plane arrived in Austin ten minutes ahead of schedule. We, however, were lagging an hour late picking him up, due to the omnipresent traffic factor of life in the city. (How in the world do people manage to live with this sort of thing on an every day basis? Another rant for another time...)

I felt really bad about that, but as it turned out, there was no need to, because even though he was early, his suitcase was a no-show, and he spent the extra hour in the baggage claim office where he was next in line when we finally arrived at the airport. When we saw him through the office window, the Blue-Eyed Boy exclaimed, "Uncle M looks sharp, doesn't he?" And indeed he did! Out of the mouths of babes....

The baggage man said his suitcase was on the next plane, due into Austin in a couple of hours. They do not deliver stranded baggage as far away as we live, so would we like to wait, or would we like to pick it up later? We would like to do neither, thank you. Fortunately, M, seasoned traveler that he is, politely inquired if they could fly it to Killeen, and whaddya know, they could. Via Dallas. But that well-kept secret is not an option that is volunteered; as is so often the case, it pays to know the right ?'s. So. Providing the luggage actually was on that plane, and providing there was enough room for it on the next two planes, we should hear sometime today that it is waiting for us to pick it up at the airport.

Luckily, the suitcase doesn't contain anything immediately necessary. Just Christmas presents from West Point. Clotheswise, he brought none, but it happens that we have a closet full of clothes just his size, so no worries on that score ;-)

We had plans to go buy a Christmas tree this morning, but at almost noon, M is still sleeping away, and he may sleep the rest of the day away for all I know or care. He apparently has had very little sleep the last few days, so I will not be waking him up today. As for the Christmas tree, my Man will bring one home with him from work shortly.

Tonight we have plans for a Christmas carol party at a friend's house. I will feel compelled to wake him up by then, if he hasn't managed on his own, but meanwhile, M is safe at home, asleep in his own little bed ;-)