Tag Archives: love

(almost) wordless wednesday

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I made this doll for my granddaughter Brooklyn, who is due on July 1st. When I was a young girl I loved Raggedy Ann and I still keep a small collection of handmade Raggedy Ann dolls in our guest bedroom piled high on an antique chair. I’ve often daydreamed about how fun it would be to have a granddaughter discover them someday while crawling around and exploring our house. We dream a lot of dreams in our life, dreams about big careers and big paychecks, about exotic vacations and maybe even about movie star boyfriends, as Americans we are taught to dream big. But I think maybe it’s the little dreams that matter the most. The little dreams along with those small everyday wonders that when added together expand our hearts and make us more grateful, more loving people. So maybe give yourself a break today, set aside those big dreams that seem to be a million miles away, and go ahead and dream yourself just one sweet and lovely little dream.

See other Wordless Wednesday participants here.

teaser tuesday

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oldpeoplekissingI’m participating in a Tuesday book meme this week where you open the book you’re reading to a random page and share two lines. I just started reading the Pulitzer Prize winning book, Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout. I opened the book to page 127 and spotted these two sentences: They weren’t young anymore, this was the thing. They kept telling each other as though they couldn’t believe it. Those lines struck me as pretty funny because my husband and I often do the same thing. He’ll complain about some misbehaving aging body part (on himself, he knows better than to notice or point out mine!) and then we’ll comment on how old we’re getting. This exchange is usually followed by shrugs and one of us saying rather Zen-like, “Well, what’s the alternative?”  And no, that is not me and Mr. bookbabie in the photo smooching, but hopefully it will be someday! Click on brown box below to see what others are reading at Teaser Tuesday…
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skywatch friday

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I wandered over to the fishing pond across the street to take a few pictures and two swans were conveniently floating around enjoying the bright sunny day. It’s finally starting to feel like spring around here. I must admit to feeling a little blue today however, it was a year ago this week that we lost our first granddaughter at only five months gestation. Last spring was tough with my mom being so ill and then the baby’s death. Thinking about those days and weeks reminds me that I have so much to be grateful for; that Meagan is pregnant again and doing well, that my mother is no longer suffering and my dad is adjusting as well as can be expected to living alone.

I suppose what they say is true, time heals all wounds. Or perhaps it just puts some much needed space between you and the pain. And in that space, if you are lucky, you may find a little peace. Near the end of one of my books I write …when the earthly lives of my daddy and brother had safely made that transformation from flesh and blood to mist and memory, when the grief had finally settled itself comfortably into the undercurrent of my days and nights, my voice came back to me. I wrote that not long after losing my beloved father-in-law Hank, and I was remembering that shift, that soft gray place where grief slips quietly into the background and we begin again. That is the joy and wonder of spring too, and it is here at long last.

easter memories

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Once upon a time, on a lovely sunny Easter morning just like this one, three little girls got all dressed up in their Easter finery. Before they left to go to their grandmother’s house for supper, they posed with their pretty mom for a picture. When their daddy said “smile” they did, thinking the whole time about the Easter egg hunt, the coconut cakes dotted with jelly beans, and their many cousins waiting for them at the other end of 8 Mile Road.

Other things may change us, but we start and end with family. ~Anthony Brandt

grandbaby bump

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I did some new baby bump photos of the kids last week. I’m having fun planning the shower, we’re using the photo on the right for the invite. We had a slight scare yesterday when Meagan developed pelvic pain. Her doctor determined that it’s not preterm labor (a huge relief) and we’re hoping that the pain goes away soon, she still has 100 days left to incubate our little granddaughter! I love how women today wear tight tops and bare their beautiful tummies at the beach when they’re pregnant instead of trying to cover them up under tent-sized tunics. Perhaps Demi Moore’s controversial Vanity Fair cover taken by Annie Leibovitz helped spark the belly-proud movement. Now, unfortunately, we have that photo of Octo-mom’s giant baby mound, which definitely falls under the category of too much information and is enough to make any woman give up the idea of motherhood altogether and get a puppy!

Making a decision to have a child–it’s momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ~Elizabeth Stone

baby bump

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I strong-armed my son Andy and my daughter-in-law (actually, it was my son who needed the coaxing) to model for some iStock pics this weekend. Before we got started I offered to do some photos for them of Meagan’s growing tummy. So far, everything is going great with this pregnancy. When they first got pregnant again we were all so guarded, trying to push back our emotions, afraid that…well, just afraid. Some of Meagan’s friends, when trying to comfort her after she lost the first baby, told her that everything would be fine this time because they already had a heartbreaking event. And as we stumbled through the baby’s loss last year and my mom’s progressing illness and difficult death, we sometimes told each other the same thing. Sometimes. Most of the time we knew the truth. That pain and heartache know no boundaries. That they will come into every life, even when we think we least deserve them, even when we think we just can’t take any more. But we have also learned another truth. That hope is not just a word. It is a light that can lift you up off your knees and carry you into a tomorrow where broken hearts are slowly mended – where joy replaces fear.

more cheese please

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The other night while at a friend’s house for dinner I sampled a cheese and fell head over heels in love. Now I’m not a particularly cheesy person (so I like to think anyway),  and I’m even a little lactose intolerant, but this cheese was so yummy I made Sarah write down the name so I could pick some up. It’s called Dubliner and has a slightly sweet, nutty taste. I like it sliced thinly on gluten-free crackers, but it’s also great with apples, wine, and even beer. I’ve read that it melts well too so I plan to try it in some recipes. So move over George Clooney and bring on the Metamucil, this babie has a new crush;)

Age is not important unless you’re a cheese. ~Helen Hayes

strength vs fear

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When I was growing up, my mom often took on responsibility for two of her brothers who suffered from mental illness. My first trip to New York City was to visit one of those uncles on Staten Island in the hospital. I remember riding the subway in the city, taking cabs for the first time, and skimming across a blue-green New York Harbor on the Staten Island Ferry with my mother at my side. It was all a grand adventure as far as I was concerned and it never occurred to me that my mom was under any stress; wondering what kind of shape she would find her beloved big brother in, being forced to talk to strange doctors and make arrangements to get him back to Michigan. My grandmother always turned to her youngest daughter for help when the shit hit the fan because Carol was the “strong” one, the one who could get things done. I was surprised while talking with my mom in later years when she mentioned going to the doctor to get a prescription for Valium before she had to go to court to commit her other ill brother to a mental hospital. I suppose that was one of those eye opening moments when I really looked at my mother as a person, not as an all-powerful and all-knowing parent.

One of the characters in my latest book makes the following statement while talking to a friend, “…and the thing about strength is, nobody faces a potential heartache and thinks, Hey bring it on, I’m ready. It just doesn’t work like that Susie. We do what we have to do when the people we love need us and it’s damn hard sometimes. I don’t really buy into that idea some people have more strength than others.” So I’m wondering if you agree with her, are there people who are by nature stronger than others, or are some people simply more willing to act despite their fear? And do we pay a price by acting when we are afraid, or do we gain strength?

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