Give yourself a treat! I know I will.

Today is one of those days that reminds me I have reached my age.  I had to wake up early and not eat so I could have my lab work drawn for my semi-annual visit to the doctor.  It reminds me of how old I am.  I find myself thinking  “How old was my mom when…” to compare myself to what I remember about her.  “How old was mom when my son was born?”  or “How old was my mom when she moved to Florida”.  I remember mom going to the doctor regularly, as did my dad, when they moved to Florida.  It seemed like one of them was there all the time.

It’s beginning to feel that way to me, too.  It seems that I am either at the doctor or calling in a prescription for refill every other day.  It’s annoying.  It’s bothersome.  I don’t like lab work.  I don’t particularly like my doctor all that much to pay to see him.  I mean, he’s nice but not worth the price of admission, if you know what I mean. 

So I award myself a little prize on days that I must fast, then have lab work for my doctor’s appointment in a week or so.  It’s the Burger King Bacon, Cheese and Egg croissant.  Since my doctor is not far from the local BK I just drive myself right over there to treat myself to this high fat, highly satisfying breakfast sandwich.  I have to get up earlier, do something with my hair, put on clothes way too early for my normal routine and to the lab, wait, stick, here’s your cup, see you later and breakfast before 10:00 a.m.

Now, understand, I only do this on lab work days. I am to eat breakfast every day, or so the dietician told me, and she did show me portion sizes and make suggestions.  I am pretty good with my toast and egg or cereal and fruit. Granted she did not say the Burger King Croissanwich is an excellent choice for breakfast, but it is once every six months, so I think I’m good.  

Besides, it’s French and it makes me feel fancy.

Bottling joy.

I am running between visits to the capitol city as I participate in various events for grandchildren and at the end of this week, I am going to attend my first “Grandparents Day”. I am looking forward to it, probably more than is acceptable but that’s how we grannies do it.

I had a great experience with my 5-almost-6 year old granddaughter over the weekend. Minor, silly and a first for her and I. We played Crazy 8s. These are such standout moments for me that I often wonder why I don’t really remember playing Crazy 8s with my own children. I’m sure I did but I just don’t really recall it. I am SURE, however, that I am going to remember this session of Crazy 8s with my brilliant granddaughter for a very long time.

There was something about the look on her face, her eyes lighting up as she scanned her cards, her giggle as she would win a hand, her victory squeal, a little dance in her chair.

How can this bring me to tears? To the heights of joy? I wish I could bottle it but instead all I can do is ask her to deal out another game…I want this to last forever.

 

No complaints here!

I love the weaving together of people and their stories.  This is not new for me and I may have bored you with it before.  It’s more than small town “Hey, they married so and so, who is my such and such”.  It’s a bit more global and it amazes me when it happens.

 

I also truly enjoy when people come together in a way that you wouldn’t otherwise expect or spend a lot of time planning.  Now, granted, there has to be some commonality and a certain amount of intent but it still is an enjoyable thing.  My weekend held a couple of these kinds of happenings.  Let me explain. 

 

Facebook is a wonderful tool.  It is abused and misused but it is also a wonderful communication tool.  The fact that we get to eavesdrop on others conversations is a bit disturbing,  but hey, Facebook isn’t new…haven’t we all learned by now to be a bit discreet about what we post on Facebook? If you haven’t, well, don’t look to the other guy as to be at fault.  Anyway, I noticed on Facebook that a few of my circle of friends were arranging to attend a 5K race. Not being a runner (I know, shocker) at first it was more like a “Hey, that’s a neat event” but it turned in to a little more as others started commenting they would be joining in.  
 

But hating to be left out of anything…I chimed in.  Long story short, I was at breakfast yesterday with some folks that would be unusual to put together on any other day.  It was their connections with each other, though, and with me, that caused us to be breaking bread, in a noisy restaurant.  I love this kind of stuff.  I realized as I sat there that my son and daughter-in-law were the common denominators, and that made it fun for them, although I am not sure they stopped to think about it as much as I did.  In fact, I’m just gonna go right ahead and say bet not. 

 

Weekends are wonderful things and I truly hope we can continue to make the most of ours, and everyday.  This weekend was another reminder to me of how very lucky we are, how very blessed.   We started with a fun and successful football game, a marching band with state honors, a satisfying breakfast in a big city with people I love, and ended the weekend celebrating one of my all-time favorite people.  Complain about anything in my life?  Well, no, I wouldn’t possibly dare!   

One tiny last hurrah

Hubs has been working really hard on the leaves this week.  It’s a big chore with all our oak and maple trees.  He is a machine when it comes to the leaves, however, and he has machines to help…a blower and a vacuum thing that goes behind his tractor.  Except for the amount of time it takes, it is much easier than it was years ago before obtaining these pieces of equipment.

I don’t want to take anything from him, though.  He is a hard working guy and I appreciate all that he does to keep the yard in tip-top shape.  It looks beautiful out my office window.  He took the extra step to blow the leaves off my walking trail and bridge and it makes all the difference when looking out this window to see the trail cut through the woods.  I love it.

I did bring up a sore subject yesterday, however, in the midst of his packing up his gear and tools for the day.  Christmas lights.  Now, we have a tree we decorated with lights last year.  This small tree, near the house, has the lights on it year round and is super pretty.  But, I like lighted trees and yesterday I walked around in the woods looking trees over to see if there were any candidates out there.  I pointed out a couple and he only grunted.  You would think he didn’t enjoy the lights, but I know he does.  He either hates putting them up or hates putting them up with my “assistance”. 

Let’s face it, I’m not much help.  I get cold.  I can’t reach very high and I’m kind of fussy.  I try to direct the circling of the branches as gently as I can, but, it’s not always the sender, you know, sometimes it is the receiver.  Some of this may sound a bit familiar to you as the little tree, which now has lights, has been talked about before.  Anyway, he didn’t see a tree that he thinks will work so that brings me to fake trees.  I have asked if he could “build” a tree from branches cut from live trees and he looked at me like I have developed a third eye. It can’t be impossible, can it? To put some sand and rocks or whatever in a bucket, shove some fairly good sized limbs in and call it a tree? I’ll let you know how this discussion goes…it ain’t over.

I was busy yesterday, too, emptying planters and putting away garden ornaments.  I removed flowers and dirt and put all the empty pots in one place, moved shovels and watering cans and rakes.  I sometimes have let flowers winter over in pots and then have that to deal with in the spring, when I am anxious to plant.  This year, I was rewarded as I emptied a pot near a rose bush.  Near the ground, on a little tiny branch, was a small, fragrant rose.  A bit cold and late for new blooms, isn’t it? But this was my reward for being a good steward to my plants this year…isn’t she sweet?