THE DUST WILL WAIT

"Mom!  Look!  That woman is crawling over the barrier on the overpass!" It was a weekend in July and I was with my youngest daughter and her two children at the fast food drive-up window where we  had a clear view of the overpass on I-205.  My daughter's agitated voice jerked my attention away from the baby in the back seat.   I scanned through the windshield in the direction her hand was waving. "Awwwoooh!" was my response as my eye caught the movement of the  leg of a woman as she straddled the railing. I began rifling through my purse seeking my cell phone while still keeping my eye on the scene.  Where was that cell phone? Then a man drew our attention.  He was walking slowly toward the woman with one hand stretched in her direction. I recognized him immediately.  He was one of several panhandlers we've seen guarding the end of the off ramp at that location. Although we couldn't hear their voices, we could tell by their physical actions

Dinkum Devo: Grandma ..... Grandma....  Grandma walks from the kitchen into the family room where Dinkum is on his knees by the coffee table, elbow on coffee table, head on hand. Grandma: What sweetie? Dinkum: Can I take my hand off my head yet? Grandma: What?  Dinkum: Can I take my hand off my head yet? Grandma: Well of course... why do you have  your hand on your head ... is this some kind of game? Dinkum: Grandpa told me to hold my hand on my head. Grandma: Oh. Well, sure take your hand off your head. Later grandma asks grandpa if he told Dinkum to hold his hand on his head. Grandpa looked puzzled briefly, then he began to chuckle.  "No, when I walked through the room and he was making all those star war noises I told him that grandma had a headache and he needed to keep those noises inside his head for awhile." * * * * * * * Grandma is reading "How Do Dinosaur's say Goodnight" to Z-bub, Dinkum, and Mizelle. Dinkum Devo: Grandma, were

Last Saturday morning a fruit fly did a swan dive into my cooked oatmeal with raisins.  I was able to scoop him out immediately. Later, while chewing, I started worrying that it might have been a synchronized swimming event.

It was 1990, and my nephew Matt was in love. It’s a love story that needs to be told. But, not today. No. This story is about a brisk October night in Arkansas. A short story that, 22 years later, still has enough chill to send shivers down your back. The kind of story that finds its way into conversations when family gets together and someone always asks, do you remember when….. Matt took a year off of college to work as a park ranger at Camp Yorktown Bay. Angel, the love of his life, lived in Arkansas and that was where he wanted to be – close to her. On a weekend off  Matt would drive three hours up Highway 7 , a scenic byway that is flagged by the State's Tourism promotions. However, the often late night runs would emphasize the curves and the dark lonely miles through forests and mountains that were only illuminated by occasional habitations. The aging ‘78 Toyota Corolla that took him on each journey had belonged to his parents, and it had a puzzling problem with the e

Aunt Delores will be 92 this year. She doesn't seem old at all.  I stopped to see her this weekend and she shared a story from 1938 when she and my mama's youngest brother were sweethearts. Delores and Bill loved to sing and, along with other family, were members of a choir at a considerably large Seattle church.  When the choir raised money for a private cruise up to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada, there were no objections for lack of chaperones and they looked forward to a romantic trip. She didn't remember why, but the ship acquired for the trip was an old wooden sub-chaser. It must have been decommissioned and purchased by the private company.    Although the trip today can be made in several hours in one of the modern fast speed ferries, back then it was a much longer voyage.  It became very apparent when they set sail that the small warship, already a bucking bronco, was not equipped to be graceful in the stormy swells and would reek revenge on most of t

Curlymop is so pleased to be a big sister.  Her baby brother, Squeak, was born on June 8, 2012 weighing 8 pounds 13 ounces. He gave us a big scare when he entered the world -  breathing problems.  Fortunately, he was in a hospital that had a superb medical staff that figured out the problem. Within 16 hours he was back in his mother's arms. Because of that early complication he has seen his pediatrician twice since birth.  On day four they noted that he weighed almost 9 pounds.  Then on day ten he had grown to 10 pounds 8 ounces.  Newborns rarely sustain their birth weight the first week, and often lose weight.    I've accused his "mama" (my daughter) of being  a Jersey Girl.  If you know anything about butter fat, you'll know I'm not referring to any of those reality shows.  We are all very happy.       

Last year I posted a photo at the first of each month of these three grandchildren that are growing up in our valley.  I'm sorry I haven't remained so faithful. But, on this first day of June the hot summer sun came out to invite them to run and laugh and to beg grandpa and grandma to turn on the sprinkler.   The camera came out, too. Murrieta 365 hosted the 1st of the Month Meme.

The Saturday before Mother's Day we stayed busy so it wasn't until late in the afternoon that we walked to the front door. "What's that?" pointed my husband. We rushed over there to find a long rectangular box with a familiar trademark and the logo of Hermes, a Greek god. "FLOWERS!" I cried. After grabbing the box right out of my husband's hands I rushed into the house.  Of course I knew they were for me. Together we opened it and then looked at each other with certain chagrin.  All the flowers were wilted and stressed. The rose buds hung loosely and their petals were brown edged with burns. It was a hot day. We had been in the mountains for half of it.  Our front door faces west and gets a nice round of sun for part of the afternoon.  Certainly they had been delivered and left on the concrete for much of that time. My husband prepared the flowers; clipped off the ends and arranged them in the enclosed beautiful glass vase.  I added the

But, I'm back. I think. In fact today it is Mother's Day and I was thinking about my mom.  She would make gingerbread as a special treat and then take the thick cream from our old Guernsey cow and whip it into ambrosia.  Well, it was to me.  Whipped cream with lots of sugar and real vanilla that she purchased from a traveling salesman, The Raleigh Man.  (I admit for many years I thought he WAS The Rolly Man.  The Rolly Polly Man, because he was quite rotund!  Kids.) Awww... memories. If you never had fresh hot gingerbread, and cold sweet whipped cream, then you've missed out. I closed my blog for awhile and I'm just going to refer you to a post from my daughter Karmyn that will answer questions ... if you have any. ps.  while I was "gone" Blogger changed EVERYTHING.  I'm not even sure I know how to post anymore.  

I've heard the voice of this little wren in the bushes around my patio  -- echoing through my back yard as if through a megaphone.  So much volume coming out of this little feathered bit of avian life. Today it actually perched in the top of the pine that grows in our neighbors yard and hangs its branches over into the corner of our back yard.  As it declared its territory I dare not infringe -  instead I stayed on my side of the yard and used the digital zoom to captured its aria of spring. I was hoping another Bewick would respond.  Perhaps now would be a good time to find a wren box and place it in a safe nesting spot.

A quick trip to Portland, OR and then headed home.  We travel east on I-84 and pass through the Cascade Mountains via the Columbia River Gorge.  Our trip takes four hours or more depending on how often we stop.  Once we passed through the mountains and could see the weather to the east I was infatuated by the storm and snapped a few photos through the windshield.  For two hours we chased and occasionally crossed paths with small squalls that lagged behind.  We caught up with the main cloud formation at dusk in the valley we call home.  As always I wonder why I didn't take the time to pull over and make an artistic attempt to focus.  As beautiful as this storm presented, it reminded me that there are many who have been dealing with some very frightening weather in their own valleys.  My hearts go out to them.

I love the way the rain drops catch  on the net that protects our fish  from the Heron and the Kingfisher.  One day I saw the Heron  standing on top of  the rocks  peering hungrily at the goldfish  in their winter “hover” at the bottom.   Such easy pickings when the pond is open. While the sun is shining the net  is nearly invisible… which explains why I’ve twice  seen the Kingfisher diving from the sky,  only to be bounced back up into the air.   I was worried that it was hurt.  But it flew up and scolded loudly from a perch high in the maple tree. When the rain turned to mist  I took the three grandchildren out  to blow bubbles. The moist air has a good influence  on the stability of the bubble.  It gives the kids opportunity to chase the rainbow balls ... as the slight breeze carries them away. Z-bub created some huge ones.   When one floated near, I coul

Did  Punxsutawney Phil's prediction send old man winter back to your front door? Robin @ Pensive is actually hosting a One Sentence Saturday .

Joining in with another First of The Month  with another photo of the three grand children that I have followed on here for the past year.  (Jan at Murrieta 365 still has the Meme going strong!) We had nine grandchildren at our house the week before Christmas so we bought a one size fits all gift:  Wii. It was a good choice. This afternoon when Z-bub got off the bus, I allowed the boys to play some Mario Brothers.  It suits them to a T!  And Mizelle?  Well, she watches, and then begs to play.  I will have to find an easier and more age appropriate game for her.  Any suggestions for a 2 1/2 year old? (Archives - previous months posts)

I've never worked harder for less money. But here are some of the paychecks I've received just in the last month. *** 6 1/2 year old Zbub: Grandma I want to go outside and build a snowman. Grandma:   There really isn't enough snow, sweety. But he convinced me -- grabbed his coat, boots, mittens, and shortly arrives back at the door with an I told you so  smile. *** Dinkum:  Gramma!  Mizelle said the "S" Word. Gramma raises her eyebrows:   Hmmm.. she did, huh?  I guess you better tell me what she said. Dinkum:   She said POO PO O! *** Grandma:   It's snack time ... how about some Tillamook rasberry yogurt. Z-bub who just got off the bus from school:  Hey Dinkum, we're having Til-a monkey yogurt for a snack.  Yeaaaah! *** My daughter Amanda to 7 year old Curlymop:   I love you muchos. Curlymop:   I love you more than all the muchos. Amanda:  Really?  How much is that? Curlymop:  That means I love you mor

Is there anyone who is satisfied with one packet of instant oatmeal?   (I guess a one sentence post is better than nothing.  I got the idea from Peter --  a blogging friend for five years.)