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Posts Tagged ‘love’

3 Grandgirls II

D Jess n BIt was an auspicious ending to four years of dedicated study/parties/friendships/and fun.  Bill and I, our son, and our three grandgirls celebrated the night before with dinner at the Sheridan Livery Inn in downtown Lexington, Virginia.

Then yesterday Jess graduated from Virginia Polytechnic Institute (VA Tech)!

The Graduate

We all staggered awake at 6:00AM to get Jess to the stadium field on time (by 9:00 AM).  As it turned out, 6:00 wasn’t early enough.  It was stop and go traffic backed up for miles, all inching toward the same parking lot.  At 9:05 Jess jumped ship and walked ran the rest of the way.

Would we miss the ceremony?  Talk about stress!

Safely parked, we then attacked the bleachers of Mt. Everest (I mean Lane Stadium).   In a high altitude breathing vacuum, we managed to find seats high above “the madding crowd” where, surprisingly, natural breathing eventually returned.

We actually spotted Jess and her cap in the thousands of graduates below.

Can you see her in this crowd too?  She’s the one in the white cap – front row right across from the boy/or maybe a girl in jeans.1st white cap across from man in jenes

Anyway – Eric Schmidt, Executive Chairman of Google, gave the commencement address.  I thought he was truly inspiring as he urged graduates to positively change the world with open minded interpretation of technology and  innovative thinking.

Miraculously, after all was said and done, we were able to find each other again in an atmosphere of general chaos.

It was then I knew what Mr. Schmidt meant about changing the world.  Our family would never have connected without cell phone communication.   And Bill and I would never have found our way out of the parking lot without a GPS system in the car.

But Congratulations again Jess on all your accomplishments.  We wish you well as you head for the graduate school program in Human Resource Management at Michigan State University!  I have a feeling you will change the world.

We were a tired crew arriving back in Lexington yesterday afternoon.  Hungry too.  But it was a beautiful day filled with beautiful smiles and a whole lot of pride.Kitchen Rampage

Animated Visiting

 

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Father & Daughter

It seems like yesterday a child arrived 

and my son was smitten with great pride

Look, a moment captured,

when all our dreams were in their eyes.

She is our oldest grandgirl, Jess

now graduating from Virginia Tech.

Graduate school is the next step

and our dreams are in her eyes.

 

 

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2015 Bouquet

Here came a beautiful glorious floral bouquet

to help me celebrate Mother’s Day.

Am I the only one who can see

everything this means to me?

Thank you!

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Antique Necklace

Grandma’s Necklace

My blogger friend, Barbara, of Silver in the Barn, is doing a series of wonderful posts for a collection of her family history. Read anything of Barbara’s and I promise you will be hooked!

Although I know sadly little of my own family, Barbara has inspired me to revisit a story about a special necklace.

My grandmother (Bertha) on my mother’s side was from Germany.  And although my grandparents immigrated from Germany to America and Bernard learned the language, Bertha never did.

She grew up in a village in the Black Forest called Waldsee which means Forest by the Lake.

There in the village she met my grandfather Bernard, who was visiting from Holland.  They married and had two children; a son, Ludwig, and my mother, Ida (and later, in America, another son, Carl).

Bernard left his young family in Germany to make a life in America and as soon as he “found his feet” and was able to support them, he sent for his wife and children.  As the story goes, my mom was a year old when she and her mother and older brother, made their way from Europe in a tough ocean journey to New Jersey, U.S.A.

D Grandparents 2

Bertha and Bernard

I never really knew Grandma Bertha because she died when I was five or six years old.

Grandma came to live with us for a while in Florida.  How fascinated I was by the big lady in the wheelchair who sat at her bedroom window admiring sunshine and blue skies and smiling happily at a little girl she so adored.

Constrained by the fact that Grandma did not speak English,  I recall feeling awed over a perceived hugely personal connection that spanned generations and ignored language barriers.  It was all beyond the comprehension of a mere child.

But one day that feeling of being cherished was forever sealed with a beautiful necklace!  That same necklace and the overwhelming feelings follow me even now, when I have  grandchildren of my own.

How surprised I was when my Grandma reached into her bag and took out a beautiful shining thing!

She smiled and folded my two little hands around a sparkling necklace, and then I felt  her own big warm hands enfolding mine.   And with that, she looked into my eyes and nodded her head up and down, as if to say, “This is for you, my love.  This is for you.”  And she kissed the top of my head.

I immediately knew the necklace was a most precious gift!

My heart was about to burst with pride.

Gandma trusted me with this hugely important thing.

And I vowed with the fervor of a child never to lose it,

to keep it safe in some secret place,

and though I did not quite understand it,

 to cherish it as a symbol of an overflowing love.

A jeweler told me the necklace has no monetary value.  It is only costume jewelry with onyx stones.  But as a little girl I thought it was priceless, and must have been one of Grandma’s most treasured possessions.  Now, as an adult, I still think it is priceless and it is among my most treasured possessions.

And just as I originally vowed, it is always kept in a safe and secret place.  I wore it once to a dance and felt as beautiful as Grandma must have been when she wore it so many years before.

I remember how the lady I never really knew tried in German to tell me how she felt.  But it was the necklace and her holding my hands together around it that made me truly understand the meaning of love.

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Beautiful Rosa 2

Rosa is a most beautiful golden horse (a Palomino) who lives nearby.

I pass her paddock on my way to town.

“Stop to say hello,” she would always seem to say and I would make that stop.

We connected.

And I somehow knew she loved our visits.

“Hellio beautiful Rosa,” I would say.  “You are so sweet and so good and I love you.”

And then I would be smiling and on my way..

But one day Rosa was gone, and the next and the next.

It was so disappointing to drive by her empty pasture.

I missed Rosa and our odd communications.

At first I thought our neighbors sold her but when I inquired they said, “No, Rosa is lame.  We are trying to help her with vet care and hoping for the best.”

And Rosa was gone for many more weeks until I had almost given up hope of ever seeing her again.

Beautiful Rosa

But now Rosa is back!  And just in time for the holidays.

She seems to favor her left back leg and stands with it semi-bent as if to lighten the load.

But my hope is that she is mending.  It is the season for miracles after all.

How I love stopping for human conversation with a horse who is so skilled at silent communication.

Her eyes say it all.

And I think she knows that in my eyes, she is truly beautiful.

pal·o·mi·no
[pal-uhmee-noh]
NOUN [PLURAL PAL·O·MI·NOS.]
a horse with a golden coat, a white mane and tail,
and often white markings on the face and legs,
developed chiefly in the southwestern U.S.
Source: Dictionary.com

 

 

 

 

 

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Thanksgiving Dove 1

There was an early morning greeting 

from a soft, sweet turtle dove

resting on my deckside railing

 sending messages of peace and love.

Yes, the day seems cold and dreary

but take a look below.

A Dove and a Deer

Is that a deer quietly moving

through the night’s collected snow?

Happy Thanksgiving from me to you

and add a message from the dove.

Take time to look with a dove’s eye view

for a world of peace and love.

Thanksgiving Dove 2

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Daily Prompt

Oil, Meet Water

Of the people who are close to you, who is the person most unlike you?  What makes it possible for you to get along?

Kit Vegas 04

Kit is my oldest, closest friend –  friends since we were eleven years old.

She named herself Kit the Wit when we first met.

And she named me Dort the Snort (not particularly flattering but I took the humiliation).

We still go by those insanely silly names and when we are shopping together she will holler out, “Hey Snort, look at this!”

And I will say, “That looks great on you Wit.”

And she signs her letters, “Love, Wit.”   And mine are, “Love, Snort.”

The names no longer sound funny to us but I’ll bet they do to the rest of the world.

Kit and I are total opposites in almost every way.

She is disorganized.  I am organized.

She is fun loving.  I am serious.

She is pinned together.  I am put together.

I never put things off ‘til later.  Kit procrastinates.

I am always early.  She is always late.

She sleeps past noon.  I am up with the birds.

I am careful.  Kit rushes headlong into the next adventure.

KIT GREAT SHOT 2004

What makes it possible for us to get along?

Laughter.

 We cannot talk long without doubling over laughing.

Trust.

I know I can trust Kit with anything and can share my most secret thoughts.  And I know she feels the same.  We share a mutual trust.

Silliness.

When we are together we are “girls” again, talking until 3:00 AM like when we used to “spend the night” together.

 Differences.

Maybe it is because we are opposites we so enjoy each other and that was what drew us together in the first place.

Value.

I value Kit for her free spirit and her abandoned uninhibited approach to life.  And I suspect she admires my careful analyses of life’s dangers before I jump into things.

There is only one catch.  After three days under the same roof, we weaken from lack of sleep and there is a rapid decline in communication.  You might say that after three days “we are at each others’ throats.”

Memories.

But we are like sisters who occasionally fight.   I have known Kit longer than I knew my own parents.  We played paper dolls, rode bikes, giggled over boys, traded clothes, dated, married, had kids and grandkids and have stayed friends all these many years.  We have so many memories ranging from childhood to old age and we share a rare and beautiful friendship that has endured over decades.

If you are reading this Wit, I love you.

Wits End

 

 

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Autumn in the Blue Ridge Mountains

Autumn in the Shenandoah Valley

I have been away.  No, not really travelling but far away and seemingly for a very long time.

Noche ThinkingMy friend Noche, the German Shepherd, was here for over a week and then she traded us for her own loving family.  The day after she went home, our son arrived and we spent days talking – and talking – and talking.  There was so much to catch up on that missing a minute was out of the question.

And then our oldest grandgirl arrived and guess what?  More talking!

The blog got put on a back burner.

And while we talked, the leaves flew and covered the deck.   The weather came and went and changed from very cool to  cold. And finally, surprisingly today was almost balmy.

The deer have returned now that Noche is no longer barking.

And the house is oddly quiet minus the sounds of all those human voices

talking and talking and talking.

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Noche and Judy

Noche and My Beautiful Niece

Noche the Beautiful

Noche doesn’t sleep in the bed, but stays on top of the bed to watch everything I do at my combo corner “office-nightstand.”

She is as clever and as smart as she looks too.

Noche viewed the pictures I took but as you can see, she is relatively unimpressed.

I will have to try harder and strive for more candid-camera shots to meet her expectations.

Bill and I are dog sitting but there is some question as to who is really in charge.

We almost forgot how much laughter comes with a pup in the house.

Like when Noche claims the doggy toy box is hers and brings each squeaky critter to the middle of the living room.

Or when she rolls over on her back to let us know she’s happy.

Or I love the “Lets play!” stance – tail up, paws down.  

So THAT’S where the Downward Dog yoga pose came from!   

Anyway, I am happy to announce there is a dog on my bed, and a lot of smiles in the house.

 

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Microwave Oven 1967  Photo from  www.smecc.org

Microwave Oven 1967
Photo from
http://www.smecc.org

I don’t do much microwaving.  Warming Tea.  Reviving Stale Coffee.  Unfreezing Vegetables.  Popping Corn.   The Usual.  I don’t cook from scratch in the microwave.  I don’t cook from scratch on the regular range much either.

I am not a great fan of cooking (from scratch or otherwise) although you may recall my friends think I am a gourmet chef.

I am the Great Chef Imposter.

Sometimes I do use the microwave though.

At least I don’t store my socks in there like one bachelor fellow I once knew.

He also stacked his shoes in the dishwasher.

But to continue – – our microwave oven was looking ill.  A worn spot developed inside with some unexplainable staining.  Uh oh!  “Possible extermination of human life,” I thought. “If I stand closer than 6 feet away I might get attacked by escaping nuclear atoms or something.”

“We need a new microwave!” I cried whenever Bill came into view.  Bill doesn’t come into view often although we have been married close to forever.  He has his desk.  I have my desk.  Maybe that’s the secret to long-term marital bliss.

Anyway I made a momentous decision and purchased a new microwave!   Same brand.  Different color.

The old one was black; the new one stainless steel.

At home, as if to say, “I hate this kitchen,” the new addition emitted a horrible plastic-y odor.  “Ikkkk!” said I.  But as Bill tried to tell me, within a few days the odor was more tolerable.  By then however, I developed a bad attitude.

I know it is irrational to dislike a mechanical object but I did.

Not only did the Miserable Micro smell bad, but every time we used it there were visible fingerprints all over the dratted thing! If I decided to murder my husband (or the microwave) the evidence against me would be there on the stainless steel in glaring detail.

Still, I pretended to love Le Mizerable Micro.

In reality I was stuck with a machine I hated and with no good reason to return it.

I think Le Miz knew we were not destined to a life of love, so one morning when I pushed its “On” button, it began to wail!

A truly horrific sound came from deep within its bowels (if a microwave has bowels) and it was a deafening siren-like moan that would send any normal person fleeing.   In a dubious act of love (fearing an imminent explosion) and being either stupid or extremely brave, I quickly pulled the plug.  I saved the machine – and the day – and we all survived.

But that scream was all I needed to return Le Miz to the DIY Store.

In its place is a new (black) Miracle Microwave that was $2.00 cheaper than the first and has no odor.  Miracle Micro is so perfect I have fallen in love. No moaning and no fingerprints either.  I think it loves me too as it seems to purr with satisfaction.

Odd but I now believe that horrendous moan was Le Miz’ way of expressing love too, by emitting a last agonizing scream to release us both from bondage.   I am so thankful and will never forget that enormous sacrifice.

No, uh, your blogger pal does not require medical attention but has only just recognized the hidden bonds of love that can develop between machines and man (or woman).

Do you have a machine you love?

Do you believe machines have feelings too?

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