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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Thursday, April 28, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles - Well, Technology Can Be Awesome

From the safety of my car while waiting for the severe thunderstorm to pass I was able to check my email, creep on Facebook, begin a blog post and communicate with my daughters to make sure they were pocketed safely away with the children.  Yay, smart phone. I could also have tracked the weather down to the second, but I generally just use my senses for that. Which explains my occasional coatless days in January because the "sun is shining" moments. 

From my conversations with the girls I was reminded of two things. A) My older daughter's faith is strong. She was totally unaware of tornado warnings just a dozen miles away and they were just doing life and chilling after school. B) My youngest daughter has followed in the cliche "you marry your father" Her husband stood outside and filmed the wall cloud while she braved the tornado shelter in their apartment complex. It flooded, she had to navigate around spiders, broken glass and a condom wrapper floating downstream while carrying her 7 month old, 22+ pounder around. 

At least her hubby had a good time.


Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ No Words Needed....

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles - Life Decisions


When we were debating getting one puppy. let alone two, I mentioned our insane thinking to my violin teacher. He listened politely and nodded several times, told me to keep him posted. When I texted him about our choice to go big he LOL'd and said, "you make the best life decisions."


Not true. Not true at all. But our decisions have made for a very interesting (to us ) life. For that I'm glad. I mean without our early life plans to buy a chunk of land and live off of it would we still be longing for that same but morphing different experience? Without Lily and Lola would we have played it safe and only taken Gladys and named her Charlene? Without the years of hamsters, guinea pigs, rats, lizards, cats while we raised our kids would we ever have considered hedge hogs?


Rob's knee issues have kept him in documentaries and quirky television shows a few days a week. I've always been enamored of hedgehogs since I read the book Miss Jaster's Garden as a child. But I didn't think I'd ever own one.

My husband announced one day a few weeks ago, "I want a hedge hog." Then over the next weeks he began researching and sharing hedgie facts, info from local breeders and then added the idea of a second hog.

One local breeder does a spring sale amounting to almost a BOGO of a deal. And she had two sisters looking for a home. The kids and grandkids wondered if Rob would like one as a gift. They gave him an early Fathers Day card with enough cash to buy one and 1/2...how could I not buy the other 1/2 for him? Today Daisy and Daffodil joined our family. Gertrude and Gladys are bemused but accepting.

Thursday, April 21, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Ramblings That Make Sense Very Early In The Morning...

Did you know that pets can help bring emotional and physical healing? Duh. Of course you knew that, it's not a newsflash or anything. Hence the therapy dogs. etc. But it's really early in the morning and I was awakened by a dog and just couldn't go back to sleep so I thought I'd ramble about love and commitment and feel-feels. 

Put your seatbelt on, this is going to get very rambley. Now the above thought I threw out about pets actually makes me laugh a little. There are few things better than a pet who will curl up with you and snuggle when you are down. Healing indeed. However, there is a flip side that you can guess if you've ever potty trained a pet, or cleaned up after one in the middle of the night when the hoarking sound awakens you from a dead sleep. Or when my pups who might have a sour tummy want to go out at 3:00 a.m. to eat grass. This has happened to me. It's real. I don't know if it's a named syndrome or not, it probably should be. 

Anyhoo, regardless of the frustrating things that go along with pup parenting, pets add love, joy, peace and snuggles to my life. And that's worth the occasional dirty work or sleepless night. Kind of like marriage, or parenting, or friendship. When we put ourselves out there, stand behind our commitments and just do the hard work in those relationships we get the dividends in return. Not necessarily the way we expect, but blessings come in very unique packages. 

A person once told me that she didn't cry, ever. That she had used up all her lifetime's supply of tears years before during a rough patch in life. What I noticed as I observed her interactions was that she indeed didn't cry. But she also didn't seem to feel joy, either, or even notice the beauty in the crazy things. Oh, she politely oohed and ahhed or she seemed to love objects that were beautiful. But there was a disconnect when others in the room were near tears over cuteness or the sweetness of moments. Almost like she refused to feel anything beyond the very expected basic surface emotions that make society run properly. (ha, ha) 

I'm sure this works for her. Because if she's locked that door she doesn't go in and lament the decision she's made, there are so many ways to deaden our feelings. Another gal won't get a pet because in 10 years you will have to bury it. She doesn't want to get attached. I get that, I really do. But what is the hidden price you pay for the 10 years you live without the benefits of loving something or someone that much. My daughters, as they navigate this parenting thing, are understanding loving so much it aches. I'm right there with them. The act of living, really living, is full of opportunities to experience the multi spectrum light and color show of love. As much as I want the yellows and bright oranges and brilliant greens of the emotional plane, I also need the indigos and bruised purples to fully appreciate the gift of the yellows. 

Even fuzzy-headed (literally and figuratively, I was rudely awakened after all)I know the wisdom of loving and choose to experience the good, the sad, the bad and the divine in the moments gifted to me. There are so many creatures in my life to love til it hurts. 

Wednesday, April 20, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Laugh With Me...

Oh those KIDS! and funny parents, too. My aunt used to scribble funny comments her kids made on the inside of her kitchen cabinets. That cabinet door was papered with sticky notes. And oddly, those two boys are pretty stinking funny adults. So maybe there was something to her crazy word keeping skills. 

I wasn't that organized. I don't remember most of what I say, and my kids, well, either I was too busy laughing or comforting them because I laughed "at" them to write it down. My kids, all three, are very clever and witty as well. Whew!  Dodged that bullet. 

Now, as a grandma, I should tweet things like these clever folks. But I don't have to since some other folks do it so well, right?  


http://www.boredpanda.com/25-funny-parenting-tweets/


http://www.boredpanda.com/funny-dad-tweets-parenting-james-breakwell-exploding-unicorn/





Tuesday, April 19, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Past Blast Part 2

Remember the epic story of my past corporate life?  Here's part two for you. Christa mentioned that she was appreciative that she was able to mail me the cartoons thereby reducing her junk piles. 

Well, here's my response to that. Forever on the internet. 

So I did actually draw this one. Don't be jealous of my sweet skills. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Stuff and Stuff

  What I want to know is how this stuff accumulated in my house. I mean I have lived here 20 years, bringing things in, one bag, one box at a time. But when I compile the "outta heres" and haul the bags and boxes to the car and into the local thrift shop that supports a great ministry I just can't stop the amazement of the sheer poundage of the stuff we don't use. And there's more stuff. Lots more. I'm filling another bag with clothes that are becoming meh. And purging some old financial documents one bag at a time at a secure bin at work. And a few pieces of furniture need to go. The mate of the "bounced couch" days are numbered. 

Tuesday, April 12, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Cooking Challenges

It is a fact commonly known to humankind that a man who loses a knee watches a lot of television. Some of those television shows are binged season after season via Hulu and Netflix and lots of them are food preparation in nature. 

When my one-kneed man said he felt like cooking I stationed the dogs to catch small errors and myself to catch him if necessary. 

Thursday, April 07, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Almost Perfect Storm

I think our children have our number. 

Middle child roasts coffee for a local roaster. She brings us bags every once in awhile to make sure we aren't purchasing Folgers. (Not going to happen, but I'm not going to tell her that.) Our youngest daughter works at Starbucks. She throws a bag our way when we babysit. (Like we need the incentive. Seriously, we'd pay her but again aren't going to spill that secret either.) 

We just finished our local hand roasted Guatemala and had to break into the Pike's Place. Our son went to New Orleans for a service trip. They planted Cypress trees and helped in the continuing rebuilding post Katrina. He brought us a can of coffee. 

Wait. Maybe that says something else. Like don't talk to Mom unless she hyped up on Joe?!? 

Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Tuesday, April 05, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Bright Fingerprints

My lil grand bean turned 5 last week. She's been with us for almost 2 years. I can't believe it. She was just barely 3 when she moved in with my daughter. And what a difference 2 years has made. This little "marching to the beat of a different drummer" kid is just so, so delightful. It tears my heart every time I think about what could have happened had she not ended up in my daughter's life. Not to single her out. I feel that way about all of them. But since it's her birthday and I'm bearing the marks of her love on my fingernails I thought I'd just share. Bean had a little girl birthday party on Saturday and she asked to paint my fingernails and toenails. And I let her. Yesterday she came over for dinner and said. "You still have your fingernails painted." with a big grin. I melted. I do that a lot since these kids entered my life. Yes, even though I discover things like the little turkeys can't be trusted with scissors and markers, I just love the heck out of them. 
 Several months ago. About ten in fact I wrote this. It was written with tears and prayers. Approximately one year later I am thrilled that the ink on the adoption papers will be dry soon and they will be ours forever. So those tears I shed, that deep, longing hope I poured out to God was answered in His yes that they could remain in the safety of our family. Thank you, God. 



"My four year old grand-baby is snuggled up against me snoring and drooling against my left breast. She smells like sunshine and soap. Heat is radiating because she's fighting one of those childhood viruses that are inevitable. She was feeling just fine an hour ago until the pain reliever wore off and her eyes got droopy and she climbed into my lap after her latest dose and fell fast asleep.

This is such a normal situation. But it is made poignant by a few things. One of those things is the innocent trust she has gifted me. At just two months beyond four, a mere 1,500 or so days, this baby has experienced life full of abandonment and selfish adults. Tomorrow a judge looks at black and white documentation and decides if it is time for the biological parents to lose their rights or whether to give them another three months to heap more emotionally painful interaction upon their innocent children. 

My heart is heavy with a mixed bag of emotion. Is it wrong for me to hope the parents will lose their rights when it feels like that is the only chance these little ones have in life? How can I, as a foster grandma, want a better life for these children than the woman who felt the movement of life nestled under her heart and who heard the first cry and saw the helplessness of her child? This child who sought my arms as a safe nest to rest in has captured my whole heart. How did she lose her mother's? 

The gift of this trust hurts. Because the price of loving and imprinting and believing is so very great. If a man or woman determines the parents deserve another chance she and her siblings will go back into a life that is nominal. Where nurturing is a fairy tale and self-suffiency is a matter of life or death."