Archive for November, 2005

Every Day Miracles

Tuesday, November 29th, 2005

Once again we have a Thanks Giving miracle. Our first grand daughter was born on Thanks Giving day and now our sixth grandchild and forth granddaughter was born two days after Thanks Giving. Much to our surprise she has handfuls of black hair and a beautiful olive complexion. I say a surprise only because her parents are blond and fair. However, I am certainly not either. So I will revel in a beautiful little girl who may share her grandmother’s dark hair and olive skin.

My first reaction to her:

I cradled the tiny, dark haired beauty in the crook of my arm-snuggled close to my heart. I drank in her smell. That un-namable scent that uniquely belongs to those innocents not far from the presence of God. The smell that envelopes the heart and drugs the mind, numbing us to the imperfections of this world and fills us with hope and purpose. Wasn’t it yesterday that I held her father, my baby son just like this?

I have much to be grateful for.

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Who Do You Like Best

Monday, November 14th, 2005

I thought I would contribute something to my blog other than complaining.

I remember hearing someone ask a designer who crochets and knits, which was her favorite. She said it’s like asking which one of your children you like best. I know a few mothers who could answer that one in a heart beat.

Yes. I also knit. However, I have always considered myself a crocheter who knits. I like to combine them. Sounds like a mad scientist kind of thing. Below is pic of the booties and hat for the newest in-utero grandchild. If she is a girl, her name will be Violet. They are crocheted with a knit one; purl one rib top on the booties. The rib will keep the booties on with a lot stretch for comfort.

For Violet

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The Saga of the Fourth Finger Continues

Thursday, November 10th, 2005

O.k. There will be no pool boy and the little red corvette is really a 1968 Camaro that my husband (not to be confused with anybody’s pool boy) is restoring. That little black beauty- not what I usually call her -gets dropped off for re-upholstering this weekend. We are going to be so poor.

If I move my left elbow forward my little finger comes much closer to hitting the mark. My violin teacher sure earned her paycheck with that little gem.

As for my friend.. She is a friend. The kind that challenges you when she thinks you’re taking the easy way out, won’t entertain any excuse, is the first to tell you that she KNEW you could do it and the first one to say I told you so as she picks up. You know what I am talking about. The kind of person who makes you better.

This character building stuff sucks but I don’t intend to quit. The trials don’t compare with how it feels when I realize that the music I just heard came from me. It may be simple in composition but it’s more than a little magical. So I will probably be in my 80s playing blue grass with the boys down at the mall on Saturdays.

I am off to torture the cats with Beethoven.

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I Think I’ll Just Spit

Sunday, November 6th, 2005

I have always thought that I possessed a sufficient amount of manual dexterity. I might even go so far to say I have great fine motor skills. Apparently that’s crap. Can I say Crap? It all started with that idiot on the radio. He was touting the “if you don’t use it you loose it” theory. That would be brain power. I’m getting to the manual dexterity stuff. He had experts that said you should even take different routes to work. Not to fall into the routines. Then there is that pesky, buzz in my ear, pain in my arse friend who never listens to my excuses. Combine the idiot on the radio, my friend, my life long desire to play the violin with a 40+ birthday and you have Me trying to play the violin. Well first of all no one bothered to tell me music is math and about 50 foreign languages. And now I find my fourth finger is apparently independent from my brain and the rest of my body for that matter. I would have been better off with a pool boy and a red corvette. I think I’ll spit and then route 14 different ways to get work.

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