Long lapse in time . . .

It's the end of the summer now. I haven't posted since January 2011 when we were still in the middle of the move to Indonesia! Sheesh. I think I will skip any update and just post pictures:) Let's just say, we moved. It was hard. We traveled back to the States for many different reasons. I'm still here. There is a wedding very soon and then I will go back. Done. Meanwhile I do a lot of sewing wherever I am.

Tally and Moose

We've been in the middle of this move now for what seems like forever. It started last fall when the phone call came in that David was requested to work in Jakarta. Quickly followed a trip to Indonesia to gather information. We had many discussions about how this would effect our lives (specifically the distance from our family), and the big one that we didn't want to mention: what to do with Moose and Tally. Now if you are NOT a dog lover . . . just stop reading now. In our family we love our dogs a lot. They are treated well, cared for with great concern, and only left when absolutely necessary. Since I don't work outside the home I have plenty of time to make their lives full of walks, ball toss sessions, and loving pats. They are my constant companions. If they look a little bit bored I take them in the car with me on errands. Moose faces forwards; Tally faces backwards. I know all their habits. In Calgary where they had to wear boots to protect their feet from the sub zero temperatures Moose was happy to get his boots on; Tally acted like I was punishing her. When we got though outside she was skipping and hopping like a kid with new tennis shoes. They made her run faster and jump higher! It really was hilarious. But sadly those days are no more. It isn't right to put dogs who are 10 and 12 years old through all it would involve to move them to a hot country with no parks, or even side walks. They would be scared and in shock making the 30+ hour trip to get there. They would be hot, bored, without good veterinary care, and would live out their lives in a very limited environment. So the decision had to be made concerning what to do with them. Finally, Moose went to live with Paul and Tucker; Tally to Atlanta with K, D, and G. They seem to be doing Okay. Wish I could say the same for myself.

All my life I have loved my dogs. When I was in first grade my brother and I got off the school bus one day and found a bag of puppies tied up in a feed sack! We, or course, took them across the road to our farm house. It was like winning the lottery for a first graders. I had a sack full of puppies, a treasure that someone else tired to throw away in a cruel fashion. I got to keep one which I named Sally. That's right, after the "Dick, Jane, and Sally" readers of the early 1960's. I loved that dog with all my heart. She let me do anything to her including putting bonnets on her. When she was happy and excited she would twist her mouth into what could only be perceived as a doggie smile. What a dog.

Now I am without my Tally girl. It has been a couple of months since she went to Atlanta. I still sense her around the corner when I move through the house. I find myself waking up on the couch at midnight with the TV on because she isn't there to nudge me. At 9:45 on the dot she would always tell me to wake up. That wet nose indicating it was time to go upstairs to bed. I miss the relaxation I always felt of listening to her full out snoring on the floor. I miss seeing how much real estate that dog could manage to take up in the middle of a room when she crashed for a nap. I miss it all. I feel like I have betrayed her trust; betrayed her good hearted, full out, no-holes-barred Labrador love.

Please God, let her live a long healthy life so that I can bring her back home again when this is over; let Moose enjoy the two and half acres in Washington where he can sniff the breeze. Let them not think too much that we left them; and help me to stop crying everyday over my four legged best friends. Seriously.

This one is for Monday's Child

Thirty years ago tomorrow I had a morning doctor's appointment. I was nearing the birth of our second child. It was coming down to the once a week appointment when you feel like you ought to have gone into labor yesterday. We didn't know the sex of the baby since it was before such things became the norm. We already had an adorable little blond-headed boy who was 20- months-old. He could say, "the baby is coming out of mommy's tummy" in his little precocious toddler voice. We already had all the necessary baby items from his recent birth. I hadn't purchased anything new, but I had handled everything pink that JC Penny's carried in the baby department. It's a wonder they didn't ask me to leave the pink sleepers alone since I was going almost daily to pick them up and put them down again. We didn't have the budget to buy just anything we had a whim to buy. We did have the budget to buy groceries, gas, pay our bills, and go out to eat once each paycheck, but no money for pink sleepers that might have to be returned. We'd never been happier. Budget, smuget. Our toddler gave us joy on a daily basis; Our lives of building this little family stretched ahead of us as a world of possibilities. But I couldn't get "pink" off my mind. I was afraid to hope, afraid to think of myself bundling up big brother and little sister to go out in the Colorado snow to play. Now DON'T get me wrong. I would have loved another little boy with all my heart (and I do love my second boy with all my heart), but I had "pink" fever. Bad. I grew up with all boys, three brothers. I WANTED A GIRL. I WANTED TINY PINK SLEEPERS! I could only think in a whisper about the dresses I would sew . . . little white collars . . . little smocked jumper . . . all worn with little Mary Jane shoes.

I went to that appointment while a friend watched big brother in waiting. I thought I would be back in an hour or so. However when the doctor did his examination he said I wasn't going anywhere except to the hospital. Those contractions I had been having weren't Braxton Hicks after all. I had driven myself to the appointment but no one was letting me drive away. David had taken the bus to work that day as usual. I had to call him to come to the doctor's office and escort me to the hospital pronto. He managed to find a ride with a friend (who was single at the time and wasn't accustomed to such emergencies:). Long story short, we finally got to the hospital and got on with the business of birth. After about 12 hours of labor it was time for the great push. (With all three of my babies I was a good pusher. I guess I can be proud of that since I was a terrible laborer). So, push I did. Out she came. Out SHE came. SHE. As in, SHE will be wearing PINK. My obstetrician was a real kidder so when he said, "it's a girl," I didn't believe him. I asked about ten times if he was sure "it" was a girl. Finally David said "Sherri, it's a girl" and I believed him. My dreams of bundling up big brother and little sister had come true. We had a beautiful little girl to be little sister to our beautiful little boy. I was so excited that I didn't sleep that night. I looked at her a million times. Ok, I must confess. I didn't look at my first born a million times because after 30+ hours of labor having him I was dead to the world. With baby #3 (Thursday's child) I knew from experience to get all the sleep I could get while in the hospital. Apologies to my boys.

Anyway, here we are 30 years later. Monday's child now has a child of her own. She did wear a zillion dresses that I made for her. She always thought they were wonderful, beautiful, and never wanted dresses from the store rather than the ones I made for her. She had at least 15 pairs of Mary Jane shoes over the years, though her favorite shoes were always her red Keds with the bumper toes. By the age of three she could strike a pose worthy of a magazine while I draped a bolt of fabric around her to see if it "was her color." She was also able to hold her own with any of the boys. She could jump off the diving board at age three. She broke her arm rounding third base. She was a heck of a soccer player. She hung in there to get an engineering degree, and then a master's to boot.

So, here is to Monday's child . . . May you enter your thirties with grace and wisdom, and wearing pink (or at least some girlie color that looks good on you:).

Love you.

Mom

Things I've learned on this trip

Hello.

This will be short and and sweet. Well, at least short:)

These are the things I have learned on this trip so far (no certain order of importance):

(1) It is possible to wear one mismatched pair of Smart Wool socks for 9 straight days w/o washing. They will still hold their shape.

(2) No matter how tired I am when I leave my grandchild, I immediately wish I could be back with him. Absolutely. Without a doubt.

(3) Sometimes in life it is simply your (my) turn to sleep on the floor for the night. It doesn't matter how many phone calls your son and his fiancee make to find you a room.

(4) I can actually forget to buy deodorant for days.

(5) Peter and Erin are even MORE considerate than I already knew they were. How many people have met YOU at the airport with a Starbucks coffee in hand for you?

(6) Almost everywhere I go there is a serious snow storm.

(7) The Snow Shoe Lodge isn't such a bad place really.

(8) Margaritas make everything seem manageable, even home renovations (until they wear off). The margaritas, that is.

(9) Having a grandchild has broken my heart wide open again.

(10) Motherhood makes a woman (K) actually more physically beautiful.

(11) FB friends are very important when traveling.

(12) M.J.'s lasagna can taste really, really good especially when M.J.'s is the only place open to get food.

(13) My FB postings are not all that interesting to anyone. Who cares!?! Everyone have another margarita!

Parents and Grandparents (probably sappy)

Parenting is on my mind this morning. There are several reasons I suppose. Not the least of which is that our daughter and her husband are weeks away from becoming parents themselves. I have been "mom" or "mum" or some form thereof for over 30 years. Now I will get to add "Gramma" to my life resumé. Of course this little guy may never call me that, even though it is how I already think of myself in relationship to him, and have signed his homemade quilts. He will decide his heart names for us. We will all be delighted with his choices:). In my imagination I have already held him, smelled that sweet new baby smell, seen those little arms and legs, and experienced the happiness of seeing our daughter and son-in-law in moments of new parent adoration. Seeing my daughter become a mother . . . what a miracle. I know when I get my turn to really, truly, hold him that I will remember thoroughly the happiness I felt when my own children were born. The slate of parenting was clean, brand new. My heart was giant size with love. I am sure grandparent love is amazing too. My cousin and all my already grandparent friends have told me it is. They all get this expression of bliss on their faces when they say it. I get the feeling it will be a brand new world. I can't wait.

The other reason parenting is on my mind this morning is that I realize that I sometimes still don't do it as well as I would like. I love my children so much. They are the treasure. They always have been and always will be. Yet we have to go through the messiness of navigating all things about life. Parents have to find that fine line so many darn times. It doesn't stop when the children grow up. We are bound to miss sometimes. But I hate missing. Ever since that first time I held them I didn't ever want to miss. D tells me that I tend to be a "score keeper" and I know that it true. Anyone able to relate? It's hard for others, but I keep meticulous score of my own perceived mistakes. It is like I say to myself, "Mistake. Fifty laps. Now!" It's one of those things I have been trying to "let go of" for most of my life. (By the way, "letting go" is a term I often find frustrating.) I know, M.A. in psychology and I still said that! If we could all just "let go" of the things that clutter our personalities and relationships don't you think we would do just that? I just hope my (adult now) children always know that I am pulling for them. Seriously, pulling for them. Even when I miss the line and have to come back and apologize. I won't stop encouraging them, loving them, respecting and accepting them for who they are. Yes, I mess up along the way . . . but please know that I would rather not. More than anything, I would rather not.

We, as a family, are coming along with the new parents. It is their turn, but their happiness will be ours; Their concerns will be ours. We will all laugh when we see him laugh. Emails and tweets will fly when he crawls, or when he takes those first steps. I know that this baby will have two uncles who won't be able to get enough of him over the coming years. He will have a Grandpa who will want to give him the moon. Good thing the parents-to-be are the sharing kind:) Welcome, little boy. We love you. We are here waiting for you. And to K and D, all the best in this new phase of life. You are in for quite an adventure. I hope you will be gentle with yourselves. Good luck on that one:)

Butterfly Fling

IMG_2881, originally uploaded by minerscreekmum.

This is a crib size quilt made from a Moda fabric called "Butterfly Fling." It is bright and pretty. Just right to brighten up a crib and keep a little child warm. I was recently notified that all 465 quilts that our group has made have been handed out. The weather is turning colder now so more are needed. It may seem like a lot of work to make quilts for this project. I mean we could go out and buy some blankets for the cost (or less) of the fabric. Not to mention the time. However, years ago when we lived in Egypt there was a nun who worked with the Cairo Garbage city children. She came to the speak at our women's group one time just before Christmas, and to accept our donations for the children. Her "talk" was illuminating. Basically, she conveyed the message that when we give to the poor, the poorest of the poor, we need to give our best. She didn't mince words about NOT giving partially broken toys or hand-me-down clothes with holes in them to her precious children of Garbage City. Hey, if you are an older nun with an eloquence of speech, you get away with some straight talk like that! It was a lesson that hit me significantly back then when I was in my late 20's living the privileged expat life. I truly can't remember what I brought to contribute that day. I think I was Ok, but there were some women who were crying. Anyway, her message stuck with me. When you give to the poor, give the best you can. Well, this is my best . . . for now. I hope it finds its way to someone who needs it. I will wrap it up and send it off. That is the last I will know, but I can imagine for a long, long time that one night a little girl went to bed with a brand new butterfly quilt- and she felt sooo special that night.

On the road again-

It seems I spend a good part of my life traveling to a different location. That happens when you move seven times in the first seven years of marriage, live overseas for 16 years, own two houses in different counties, and now have three grown children spread out over the United States. So, I'm on the road again. This time heading for Washington State to visit son #1, and have a mini vacation with my cousin. I have my faithful pup with me. Today she slept her way across western Alberta and eastern British Columbia. It wore her out. She has gone to bed for the night. She currently has a lovely little snoring rhythm going. I love that sound. Hope she gets her rest because she will have a full day of napping ahead of her tomorrow.