TGIF Humming Along

9:30am-6:00pm is my least favorite shift to work.
Off tomorrow.  Have the kayak racks on the vehicle that hauls things.
Tomorrow, tomorrow.  There's always tomorrow.  It's only a day away.
If I could whistle I would whistle while I work.  As it is, I will settle for humming.

With Help Like This

I have the Lumosity app on my beloved iphone.  Just the free part.  It gives me three games a day to exercise my brain.  That, and a little tumeric, and I expect to stave off Alzheimer's for several more years.  I completed my training before I got out of bed this morning and I had a high score on the color game.  Woot.  Woot.  Then around 10:00am the app sent me a message reminding me to exercise my brain today.  Like I hadn't already done it.  Like maybe I forgot I did it.  My memory app mocking my ability to remember.  Seriously?

Wishing for Watermelon

This man has often referred to me as "Daughter Number One".

In my fantasy world, it was because I was his favorite.  But in reality, it had more to do with my birth order than my favor status.  (It may also have been that after he had three more daughters he couldn't remember my name.)

I learned from him that a joke really doesn't need a punch line.  People are more important than things.  Nobody dies from wearing clothes that are out of style.  What it's like to be loved unconditionally.  Grandkids are better than kids.

He never taught me to hunt, fish, throw a ball or the difference between a motor and an engine.  

He did teach me its okay to think outside the box, to start strong and finish strong, how to pitch a tent, and that the teacher is always right.  

He tried to teach me to think fast.  Usually by throwing something in the general direction of my head.

He taught me that there is a time to be serious, but this probably isn't it.  And that watermelon is a good thing even if you don't have any right now.

And you should savor the moments when you do.

So glad to have a number one dad.

Further Proof/Family Pics

Oh, wait.  All these pictures are all of the Goob.

Maybe the trip was all about him.

 About spending quantity/quality time with him.

Love the person he is becoming.  Love seeing him grow.

Whatever this trip was about--glad we took it.

Glad the Goob was with us.

Let's Make One Thing Clear

 Yes, we went to Hawaii.

 Yes, it was the week after he graduated.

 Yes, we let him pick the destination.

No, none of our other children ever got to choose where we went on vacation.

 Yes, he is my favorite son. 

 

No, no, this was not a graduation gift.  It was a family vacation.  

Trip of a Lifetime

Just a reminder to myself why I can not retire and move to Hawaii.

It is Well With My Soul

Started reading "The Good and Beautiful GOD" on vacation.  First three soul training exercises are rest, silence, and awareness of creation.  Feel like I am attending soul training university.

So easy to relax and rest away from everyday life.

So easy to be silent walking alone on the beach.

So easy to be aware of details when I am moving slowly.

I think the purpose of 'soul training' must be to learn to live like this in my everyday life.  Yeah, I could live like this.

My Best Advice

Graduation seems to be a time when people solicit and offer advice. The best advice I ever got was from a therapist counselor who told me that you don't have to tell everyone everything.  The second best advice I got from the same man. He told me sex is a good stress reliever. Not sure if that is the kind of advice the pastor's wife should offer to someone just headed out to college.


Nonetheless I decorated the table runners with chalkboard paper and added a few words of wisdom.

And we left the chalk out so guests could add their own advice.  Or not.

Loaded.  All guns are loaded.

Some very useful advice indeed.

I did take my camera to graduation.  And I handed it to someone else and asked them to snap a few pictures of my son, the graduate.  So there are a few good shots of the Goob at graduation.  But after graduation I got my camera back.  And with the exception of that one selfie, I did not get another picture of my own son, the graduate. I did, however, capture a few smiles.

I loved how this little project turned out.

Because it only took a few seconds and people were very genuine

.Although 'boy' smiles are a little different from 'girl' smiles.

Because boys are different.

But we hold out hope that they will grow up... to be men who make their wives smile.

And have boys of their own who make me smile.

Love this smile.

And this one.  (These guys might be the same age.  In that case, one of them may have repeated first grade.  Just saying.)

Love this lady and her smile.

This happy lady was one of the Goob's class advisers.  Entrusted with giving guidance to the Goob beginning his freshman year.  She retired from teaching last year, but she returned to the school once a month this past school year to continue to meet with her 'assigned' senior students.  She loved the Goob and I love her for that.  Thinking these two must have been high school sweethearts.  Either that, or he used to date a friend of hers before she stole his heart.
Like another happy couple I know.

More good advice?  When entrusted with a secret, keep it.

Graduation Day If I Lived on Facebook

Here are a few of the status updates passing through my head this morning:

Moms who are hosting graduation parties should not attend other graduation parties before their own. Suddenly my idea to use 'buckets, chalk, and twine' as a decorating scheme seems suspect.

I called the school one final time this week.  To request that they correctly pronounce our last name.  The secretary said she would leave a note that it was a long A.  So if my son receives his high school diploma as Ay-lex Have-ner that will be on me.

When class advisers recommend that graduates put their gowns in the bathroom while they shower, they should take into account how many times a boy will shower between the last day of school and graduation.  And if they will remember to take the gown out of the bag.

Yesterday the graduate in my house asked me what time graduation was.  I think there may be some important information about graduation I have not received.

This morning I colored the hair on my head, removed some hair from my face, shaped my nails, dressed myself and the pasta salad.  Why am I not this productive every morning?

Toying with idea of not even taking my camera to graduation.  My level of distraction is heightened and I always miss the shot anyway.

Congratulations! You're a Cowboy.

Took the Goob to the State University so his Mom could see the campus and he could make a final decision.  Paid the initial deposit to secure his spot in the freshman class of The University of Wyoming (or as the Goob calls it YouDub) for Fall 2014.
Spent some nostalgic moments this afternoon locating a few pictures to display at his graduation party. Came across this blast from the past (because 'organize the pictures' never got crossed off the 2013 non-resolution list):

This is the STP and I (I'm on the left) just before we had children. (At least I hope that is a maternity top.) In 4 short months, we will be back there.  (Back to no children, although loose fitting tops and elastic front pants hold a certain appeal as well.) Not sure how I feel about it, but I am sure there is no one else I'd rather share an empty nest with.

March On

What I did the rest of March:

I worked.  With some diptheroids.

I baked 2 apple pies for pi day.  Because in less than 8 weeks the Goob will graduate from high school and my days of being volunteered to bake something to take to school will end.

I kept the world's cutest seven year old in the guest room 10 days while his mom went on a mission trip to Mexico.  I stepped over playmobil pirates and lego bionicals.  I walked to the elementary school.  I checked the backpack and math homework and practiced spelling words. 

I put paint on a pinewood derby car.  

I took paint off the woodwork in the hallway of the HND.

I also made two big decisions this month.

1.  I am not having any more children.

2.  I am not stripping any more woodwork.

Landscaping

These tulips are against the foundation of the house next door.  Along with three sad very old lilac bushes and a host of kochia weed they are the sum total of the landscaping.   Every spring since Shirley died, I have admired (and maybe stolen) these tulips.  I admit I have entertained the idea of taking my bucket and shovel over and moving them to my yard.  This year they are mine.  Seems a slight overkill to buy the whole house.  

Gave the House Next Door its own facebook page this weekend.  And picked some outside paint colors.  And rued the decision to strip the woodwork in the hallway.  

Remind Me Again

Why was I so anxious for Spring?  Today the weather is warmer.  The sun is shining.  The snow is melting.
The ground is muddy.  The flowerbeds need cleaned out.  I have my evacuation bag packed in case the river floods.  The back yard is knee deep in dog poop.  The thought of giving up my sweaters for shorts and tank tops makes my belly roll and the place where I should have triceps wriggle with discomfort.
Oh, Punxytawney Phil, how could six have gone by so quickly?

The Demo Begins--in the Bathroom

The Bathroom.  Before.  Not quite ready for it's close-up.  (Scroll fast if you are eating, or pregnant, or otherwise have a weak stomach.)

I wanted to save the coral wallboard, until the STP told me it was pink.  Then it lost its luster.  So we brought in the demolition crew.  And armed them with hammers and crowbars.

Something quite satisfying about smashing things with a hammer. Just sayin'.

Demo?  We got that.  Praying for someone who can put this back together.