Itchy!

Way back when... a long time ago... i was a wee girl. Yep.
We would spend a lot of days at the beach, or up the river, playing in the water. My mom had gone to J.C Penny's and bought me a new swimsuit. It was soft and colorful, and the bottom was shaped like a purse. When i would get in the water that purse shaped bottom would fill up with water and i would look like a balloon with legs. I hated that swimsuit.  I am convinced my mom bought it to keep me out of the water. She knew i would hate being water-logged and so wouldn't go in the water. She was a worry wart and was sure that if i stood in water over my ankles i would drown.
Well, i whined and cried and threw a fit or two until she went and bought me another swimsuit. I don't know how long it took her to find it, or how many places she had to go to before she did, but i'm sure she had a plan. To find the ugliest, most un-comfortable suit she could. Payback.
She brought home this Pepto-bismo pink creation that was made totally of WOOL. Wool. Itchy pink wool. It even had a black ships wheel embroidered on it! Wool wool wool.
I spent so much time scratching that i never could get in the water.

I hated that swimsuit.

This will be posted over at Mylestones for

More family.

To continue on with my family....
This is Leslie, she is daughter #2 at 40 years old this year.
She is my pistol. She is smart and gorgeous. A wonderful sense of humor, quick temper and soft heart. She will give you her last dollar if you are in need.
The other photo is her son and his family, and the other is her daughter.

It's Tuesday!

I am posting this over at  
 come on over and read more wonderful stories.

I forgot all about it being Tuesday.  I've been wrapped up in my own boo-hoo stuff, i forgot "Tuesday's Un-wrapped"....holy cow.
Nothing happen today except a lot of rain, so i had to look back to find something to un-wrap. Which, as usual, when i open my eyes, turned out to be a miraculous wonderful happening. I have to remember, they are always there if we look with open heart.
This is Tauni. She is my oldest daughter, Lisa's, best friend. She is also a part of our family now. Lisa took her in when she was at her lowest, at her rock bottom, nowhere else to go but up kind of lowest.
She has never had a baby. She never will.
She has never been this close to a tiny baby, she had never held a baby before this instant when this photo was taken. She cried.
That's just part of the miracle. The real miracle is my youngest daughter, Blue. Blue is baby Eddie's mother. He is her third child, she has two girls.
Blue, having done a lot of not so good things in her past, has a tendancy to look at other's mistakes without forgiveness. She can be quite judgmental and un-friendly to someone like Tauni. But, i had told her Tauni is now part of my clan, and would be at our Sunday breakfast dates from now on.
Blue had to make a choice.
She surprised us all by handing her baby boy to this woman and walking away to help me cook.
It must have been one of the hardest things she had ever done. When Tauni handed her the baby back, there were tears on her cheeks. She thanked Blue, and i think at that moment, Blue felt that glorious warmth and lightness that comes over a person when we let go of a weight and give something good to someone else. I think Blue felt that sweetness.

I know the look on Tauni's face gave me great pleasure that day. 

Mosaic of Eddie

Eddie. My new heartthrob. His scent is honey and light. His texture is silk to the nth degree. His sound is smooth and sweet.

He has climbed into my heart. He fits there very well.

This is linked to Mosaic Monday at Little Red House....go on over, enjoy the wonderful posts.

http://dearlittleredhouse.blogspot.com/2010/04/mosaic-monday-pasture-hijinks.html

Eddie

I am un-wrapping Eddie. My new grandson. I met him for the first time yesterday. I was overwhelmed with love and gratitude. I felt wobbly and warm and full. My mind had no words, only sensation. The sweet smell of a new life, those wonderful little squeeky mouse sounds, big stretches and the amazing softness of his cheek. I breathed him in. I closed my eyes and let him take over my heart. Edward Franklin Martin Dane. My last grandchild. I am in love again.

I have posted this with tuesdays un-wrapped at chatting at the sky. 

Come see all the wonderful posts.

The Chicken Story

About 28 years ago i lived in an old farmhouse just a few miles out of Charelston, Oregon. It sat about a quarter mile back off the road, was nice and private and quiet. Well, quiet most of the time. There were those "party days".... shhhhhh, don't tell anyone, i used to be a fun kinda gal.
Anyway, i was working at Hallmark Fisheries at the time, a not so great job that paid super good. They processed fish, shrimp, crab, and whatever else. I would buy a 5 lb. can of 100 count shrimp, it was the cheapest as the shrimp were small, very small, 100 to a pound. I would try to buy it and hide it so no one would know, but someone always saw me carry the can out to my car, so the party would be on. My tempura shrimp clumps were well known and i couldn't fix it without half the town coming to enjoy it.
Of course, with shrimp goes a lot of other things. People would bring salads and sweets, brownies, pies, and all manner of good things to eat....and drink. It's the drink part that is to blame for most of the funny stories i have to tell about living there.
This time, after much shrimp munching, and salad crunching, and drink slurping, a crazy fisherman decided i should fry a chicken for an after meal snack. We only had one chicken, and he was a rooster. A mean hateful "chase ya peck ya if ya come close" kind of rooster. He had had his fun with a good number of my friends, and left a scar or two for memories sake, so needless to say, when the crazy fisherman made his suggestion he got overwhelming approval. Everybody really hated that rooster.
The rooster, being smarter than a crowd of drunk fishermen, decided it was time to get outta Dodge and proceeded to make a run for it instead attacking. He ran those guys around and around that house, first one way than the other. Once in a while he would throw a loop and run around and among the parked cars. I think he really enjoyed the "clunk thunks" he could hear when a fisherman didn't cut the corner close enough and ran into a fender or something. And i know he really loved the cursing and swearing, the "OWE!"  and the "DAMN THAT HURT" he was hearing. Did i tell you, he was one mean rooster? And smart?
The rooster won. He got away and was never seen in my yard again. But, you had to keep an eye out if you were walking past a certain alley in town. He had moved in.
As for the fishermen. They got their exercise that day. They also got cuts, bumps, bruises, headaches and even one loose tooth.
Did they learn a lesson? Have you ever seen a fisherman learn a lesson?
Oh, do i have some stories.

My sister

In 1982 i moved to Homer, Alaska. A long way from my home ground on the Oregon coast. I stayed for 14 years.
For 13 years i didn't see any of my family. My mother had died just before i left Oregon, and i was lost. I was almost 40, but losing her was a horrible blow. While i was in Alaska my father died, one sister and my grandmother, aunts, uncles, all died. My family was moving on without me saying goodbye.
In 1994 i had saved up enough money to make a visit home. My sister, Judy, was to meet me at the airport in Portland. She drove from her home in Sutherlin to pick me up. It had been 13 years since i had seen her.
When i stepped off the plane i looked around, looking for that familiar face, and there, behind a group of waiting people, was this woman. She had her hands waving in the air, she was jiggling up and down, crying, laughing, hopping from one foot to the other. She rushed me, grabbed me up and hugged hugged hugged.
My fear of not being accepted again was out the window. This was acceptance. This was love.
I stayed with her for a month before i was off again, back to Alaska. That month was wonderful. I saw places i had loved, people i had loved, and found a new place in the family.
In 1996 i moved back home, and have been here since. It is where i want to be now. The coast is 80 miles away, a short drive to breathe the sea air. Home.

This photo is my sister hug hug hugging me. She did that alot.

This post is for Tuesday's Unwrapped over at chatting at the sky.
For some reason i am un-able to get her blinkie . Sorry. Go to...
http://www.chattingatthesky.com/2010/04/12/pink-on-a-tuesday/

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My son.

Summer will come.

My son.

In 1968, when i was 22, i gave birth to a boy baby. He was way early and weighed less than 3 pounds. He was tiny.
When he came out he was taken away before i got to see or feel him. I remember a little sound, like the squeaking of a mouse, and he was gone. I didn't get to touch him until i took him home at 52 days of age.
They put him in an incubator at the very back of the nursery. I would stand with my forehead pressed against the viewing window, trying to see him. Just a glimpse. Anything. A waving hand or kicking foot. I yearned for sight of my son. I wanted to hold him, smell him, hear his cry.
One day, at about 3 weeks, as i was standing there, the doctor came up to me. He asked if that was the closest i had seen the baby, i told him yes. He patted my shoulder and stepped into the nursery. He put on a gown and gloves and a mask, and amid the arguing of the nurses, he proceeded to push the incubator up to the window. He reached his hands, huge hero hands, through the holes and slid them under my son, raised him up so i could see him. He held that naked baby boy, turning him this way and that for me, so i could get a good look before i had to leave for home. Leaving him there again, until tomorrow, when i could come back and stand at the window during my lunch hour, waiting for a bit a movement from that incubator that was once again shoved to the back of the room.
I remember looking up at that doctor and thinking he must be my angel. He was over 6 foot tall, with black hair shot with white. His voice was deep and rumbly. His hands were so big, my son could lay in his palm. I know his name, it comes into my mind off and on, but for the life of me i can't remember it.
I never saw him again.

Summer will come.

Sometimes, it seems like winter will never let go it's grip. Days go from grey and cold to sunny and warm, then back again to cold and dreary. But take heart, summer WILL come.

This is why.

For un-wrapping today, i chose a photo from Easter.
You see that girl there? That is Alexis, our granddaughter. You see that man? That is my Old Guy.

What else is there to say? I see things like this alot.  He gets goofy with the girls, paints toenails, shows our girls how to wear bike stuff, sings, dances, and is an all around super dooper one of a kind wouldn't trade him for chocolate kind of guy.

I love him.  

Join us all for Tuesdays Unwrapped


And check out the rest of my blog...you might like it.

More smiles...

Yesterday i started showing you my family. I started with my youngest, Blue, and her girls. Today is Joyce. She is 4 years older than Blue. She is goofy and smart. A wonderful mom, wife and homemaker. She teaches her girls how to cook and take care of their own belongings. She is artistic and crafty. I don't get to see her and her family often, they live a ways away. She was raised by her father, and we have only been close to each other for 14 years. She is a treasure. I love her dearly.

Then is Katie. She is Joyce's oldest daughter, and she is a hoot. She takes no guff from anyone. If someone pushes her, or anyone else around at school, Katie is there to protect. Her heart is a big as the universe. She is a pro wrestler fan and goes "gaga" over the wrestlers. I love her way big time alot.

Next is Jamison. She is the baby of the family,but one tough baby she is. She too is goofy and funny, loving to play jokes and tricks. She is a bit quieter than her sister, though not by much. I love her seriousness and quiet zoning out. I just plain love her.

The two girls look a lot like their mom, who looks a whole lot like i did years ago.  My beautiful blondes.  

     

It is Easter today.
It seems like it has only been a week since the last one. Time is moving fast. I decided it would be a good idea to put a few photos in here. Photos of my life. Of what makes up my life and what makes me smile when i really don't feel like smiling at all.

This first one is of Mother's Day 2009. A very special day for me and my girls. It was the first day EVER that all of my girls and i were in the same place at the same time. All together. Touching and talking and laughing. All in the same house, the same room. It was a day for magic. It was a day i had wished for prayed for and cried for. Their ages go from 46, 40, 36, and 32, and it was the first time they had all sat down together. It was amazing. And it is a memory that warms me.

This next photo is Alexis. My granddaugther. She is gorgeous and smart and loving and oh i could go on and on. I love her. I love her face, her sound, the way she moves. She sings in the shower! She eats yogurt with bran flakes with me. She sits by me and rubs my hand. It soothes her. It soothes me.

Then her little sister, Ashlyn. The trickster. Goof. Giggler. She makes me laugh out loud. She loves to eat cottage cheese with honey, just like her grandpa. And grapes. She loves V-8, and tomatos and all berries and fruit. And vegetables. She eats like a lumberjack. And falls asleep in her food. I love her. I love her laugh, her long curly hair, the way she calls her sister. She is a precious gift.
Their mother is BlueRaine, my youngest. She is soon to have a boy baby, any day now. She is beautiful and smart and such a good mama and wife. She amazes me and makes me so proud to be her mother. Right now they live just across and up the street from us, so we get to see them often. Thankfully.

This is Blue.

Remembering me.

One day, in 2003, my Old Guy and i went for a drive in the country. This is something we did often, whenever the weather and his job would allow it. He was raised in Alaska and was totally in love with the thousands of back roads he could drive on. Alaska, then, did not offer many back roads you could travel on just for the fun of it.
This day, we were in the hills above Myrtle Point, Oregon, an area i had spent a lot of my childhood in, but had not seen since i was a kid. As we drove along i realized things were looking a little familiar, this curve with that tree sitting just in that spot, that old barn out there, falling down. Then, there on the left side of the road, a sign, Laverne Park. Laverne Park. My heart jumped and i got a thrill of goose bumps. Laverne Park was where my family would get together for 4th of July picnics, and family reunions, or where we would all meet up whenever uncles and aunts and cousins would come to town. Laverne Park. One of the very few places of my childhood where i was happy.
We turned in. Oh it was different of course. A new wider paved road, bigger parking lot. In the "Ago" the road was narrow and just dirt, and the parking lot was a big wide graveled spot. But the same trees were there. Big old trees that now had signs warning people to keep watch as the trees were so old that they were no longer very stable. I loved those trees. I remember standing next to them, putting my face on their trunks and breathing in the earthy smell of them. I used to talk to those trees. They heard all my woes and all the magic in my heart.
We drove on up through the picnic area, and there! there on the right, under that big old mrytle tree is where we always tried to set up for our picnics. The old wooden tables were long gone, replaced with new painted fancy ones, but i knew right where they used to sit. There was a big family gathering going on there, under our tree, and watching them, those people laughing and singing, the kids running and playing, put me back to my time, and i remembered. I remembered my daddy, drinking beer and singing, playing his guitar. My grandma Lily singing with him. My mom and aunt Norma fixing food. Cousins all around me.
We parked in the lot, right off of the edge, where we could see the river below. I remembered there being a trail there, that ran along the river. A narrow little dirt trail that cousin Bobby and i used to run back and forth on. And that i would slowly walk along when i was alone for a while.
I walked down to the trail, took off my sandals, and put my bare foot on the dirt of the path. I walked along a few paces, and i felt her/me as she ran by, laughing, hair flying behind her/me. I felt the magic of being little me again. The wind of our passing was warm and sweet and it filled my heart and overflowed my eyes. I was crying. I felt so full. So thankful to have that memory, when i had so few.
I've started remembering more now. It's like that instant, that tiny bit of time when i traded time with myself, released them from the place i had hidden them away. I still don't remember alot, but there are more all the time, and i wallow in them in great pleasure. I wrap them around myself and hug them close. They warm me. They tell me that yes, i did exist before the ugliness and hurt. There was a little me who laughed and sang.

I did exist. I do exist. I am.