THE DUST WILL WAIT

Our grandson was born at 1:59 pm today. Big feet, big toes, big fingers. 8 pounds 10 ounces. Update : Photo Buttercup and Baby Brother

This is last year's post for Memorial Day. I just wanted to revisit it. (Fun Monday is below this We drove through the foothills today into the Blue Mountains . The gusting wind rolled like waves through the lush wheat fields and crested in the sun light. As the mountain road changes from paved to gravel it ascends into switchbacks that slice through rock-filled ravines and open meadows. The blustery air followed us up the crooked path. The tamaracks and pine trees whispered and moaned. The aromatic scents of wildflowers mixed with pollen and dust to tickle our noses. Our original goal for this afternoon jaunt was to utilize our permit to harvest rocks that have rolled into the roadway. The landscape around our pond and the waterfall feature has yet to be completed. One of those ‘always in progress’ tasks. However, my attention kept drifting from rock viewing to the symphony of sounds and smells. The blessings of living in a beautiful place and sharing it wi

RDH Mom, as todays host, says : Vacations...this is the time of year when most of us go on vacations. Show us and/or tell us about your favorite vacation - where you went, what you did, etc. Pictures would be great. Let's all take a trip aro und a the world via our FM friends!! One of my favorite weekends - EVER - found us with all three of our girls and their families at the Oregon Coast. This is where we stayed - an Inn built on the cliffs with an elevator to the beach. (Click on the photo, which is from their website, to get more information - or make reservations!) Below is the view from our deck. This photograph reminds me how the breeze teased our lovely daughters hair and tickled our noses with the aromatic scents of the beach. The grandkids couldn't wait to ride the elevators down and get their shovels in the sand. Cooking was not our responsibility -- so we got to enjoy each other without worrying about who was on the clean up crew. I had a broken leg. Buttercup

Sometimes I forget when people tag me with MeMes. Sometimes I forget to put the half-n-half back in the fridge before I leave for work. Eventually I spit out both. Like today. (Yes, it was sour.) Back in time Burnett's Urban Etiquette tagged me to write my memoirs in six words or les s . I've waited so long to respond that James has moved away... to a blog that is a more "formal" part of the newspaper. He writes for The Miami Herald. (He's a great writer, too!) So -- my life story in six words. "I think I can do it." Not really. That was my response when he handed me this assignment. Here is the real one: "I want to do it over." Everything. This stems from a lifelong dissatisfaction with all my first attempts. Possibly originating with my order of birth. As the youngest of eight, I always knew someone older and wiser would respond to my pleas for help or advice. My older siblings came along and cleaned up my messes or took

Canon Rebel XTI Wordless Wednesday Universal Headquarters right H ER E

Mariposa is todays Fun Monday hostess with the mostest (collections.) Visit her HERE . Canon Rebel May 18, 2008 What I would LIKE to collect.

Squeaky noises emitted from the huge maple trees that shade our back yard. I knew early last week that it was the same sounds heard three years ago when two screech owls raised their tiny duo in the tree tops. One parent appeared at dusk in recent weeks. My neighbor, Myrna, joined me on Friday night to watch the small owl glide between the branches, calling in muted tooo - tooo - tooo -toots. We saw a dead rodent dangle from its beak, and heard the delighted response of a little one as it received an evening meal. Saturday afternoon the distressed cries of the baby drew me to the fence. It may have fallen from the protection of its nest. (I put up an owl box last year - but it was claimed early on by the rascally starlings.) There it was - the baby--at the base of the 100 plus year old maple tree. I ran for my camera and hoped that there were no cats, crows, or magpies also attracted by its distress. When I returned, the fledgling was climbing the tree. I appointed myself ph

The Round Robin Photo Challenge this week is Wooden. Kiva, who authors the blog, " Eclectic Granny " chose the subject. She said: Merriam Webster defines the word "wooden" as: 1. made or consisting of wood. 2. lacking ease or flexibility, awkwardly stiff (e.g., wooden performer, a wooden speech). A picture of John Wooden or anyone named Wooden qualifies. Our White Birch Tree, which is very much wooden, intrigues us with the designs in its bark. They are made by the natural peeling and striping that is peculiar to the beautiful birch family. I see two wooden penguins frolicking on an icy wooden skid to a wooden sea in this etching. Wooden you? All the participants are listed at Round Robin . Visit each one for a great Saturday morning visual delight.

I don’t understand the appeal of Collagen injected lips. When a recent Dancing With The Stars contestant took to the floor, I was reminded of Batman’s great nemesis, The Joker . Then today I saw a recent photo of one of the Vegas Stars. Her lips were so engorged that her cupid bow flat lined and her smile was dead. As unnatural as a pregnant frog. I am reminded of childhood games, when we stretched our eyes, cheeks, and lips through the most extreme contortions. I was quite often the winner of silly face competitions with my impression of the Hunchback of Notre Dame. (I can still do it.) Some of today’s celebrated faces would put my creation to shame with the twisted looks they’ve fashioned with Botox, Collagen, and Lifts. The female celebrities aren’t the only ones that give me pause to gasp. Just the other day I leaned over in my usual head down manner to blow dry my hair. I made a turn just in time to observe my jowls, cheeks, eyelids, and eyebrows resp

Wordless Wordless Wednesday - Will you Still Feed me When I'm 64 Oregon Zoo Lorakeets - photo by my daughter Amanda - Canon Power Shot Wordless Wednesday headquarters are here!

The beautiful and talented Swampwitch is hosting a Cyber Baby Shower today! I'm very excited about it because the mother-to-be happens to be my daughter Karmyn, the author of Dreaming What Ifs. ... Swampy is inviting you and I'm seconding the motion! Find a lovely gift out here in cyber space - remember money is no issue when your imagination is your credit card. Post your cyber gift and link to Swampwitch. Here is my gift to my eldest -- what she really wants most of all. A MAID SERVICE. Click on the Picture and you will find the Merry Maids are world wide. They are even available in the town where Karmyn lives. So hon -- sit back, put up your belly, and let these two do everything today! Now --go get a pedicure! (P.S. Karmyn also has a "guess" contest up at her blog. Date and Time of the baby's arrival . Get your crystal ball out and take a couple of cleansing breaths and push out a prediction. Get over there and leave it in a comment.)

Canon Powershot Other Wordless Wednesday presenters are signed up HERE!

Brand Spankin' New Blogger, Rose, of Rose's Garden tagged me for this MeMe that I've seen circulating. I think someone else may have tagged me, too. (Remind me if it was you so I can link to you here. Sorry, I'm leaking memories.) Here are the Rules: You are about to send a virtual Message In a Bottle across the Blog Ocean. Leave a message in the sand or on the bottle. Write anything you wish. Be a pirate or a poet. Serious or silly. Anonymous or not. What message would you like to send out to the universe? Here it is: There were lots of other rules, too. But, aren't rules made to be broken? Rose has them at her place so please visit her blog -- say hello and welcome her to the sphere - and check out how the meme truly works. Today I helped the hubby fix a section of our backyard fence that was hanging on splinters. The little neighbor boy, Kadon, thought having a big hole in the fence was the best thing since sliced bread. (Not that he knew there was an

It’s a gulag. At first one is held captive by fascination. (So many blogs - So little Time) Then freedom is bound by technical ignorance. There it sits. Wires, blinking lights. The Mother of all Boards. (The hubby got it running- hopefully until we can replace it. Then he said he is so tired of the problems that he's ready to buy me a MAC. )