She posted signs around the area describing her 21 year old, black and white furry baby, offering a five hundred dollar reward. There were flyers in mailboxes and hours spent driving slowly around the neighborhood peering under hedges and next to cars for a glimpse of her, all to no avail. The cat was sick as evidenced by an IV port permanently placed in her paw and her owner inconsolable at the loss of her friend. After 20 plus years, the cat had made a comfortable home in the heart of her owner.
Can you smell the football in the air or is that just my son’s size 14 cleats he left in the backseat? Either way, football season has started. Adam has practice from 8-2 every day until school starts and Eric is at the field from 6-8 each night, so collectively, one third of every day is now football related….*sigh*. I enjoy football and have learned after many years of cheering from the stands who the center is, what a chain gang does and how many yards long the field is supposed to be (100 yards, 120 if you add in the end zones). I have learned, literally the hard way, to bring a bleacher cushion for the hours in the stands and not to yell too loudly and embarrass my kids (but I manage to do it anyway). It is amazing to watch the boys change from little 6 year old bobble heads in rec leagues into athletic young men on the high school field in a blink.
I got a text the other night that a friend’s mother had passed away from a massive heart attack. It took me off guard as usually the texts I get are about picking up a child somewhere or a hello from a busy friend. I stood there looking at the words on my screen and a wave of sadness washed over me. Now I know death is inevitable, but it is a thought that pops up from time to time and brings tears to my eyes. I hate thinking about losing my parents and usually just push it to the back of my mind to a cobwebbed corner behind taxes and my things to do lists. I can’t stop time, but I can delay thinking about the inevitable.
I was driving back from errands with my youngest son the other day when an old Police song came on 92.9. Eric loves to sing….really loud…and often. It always makes me smile at the enthusiasm with which he wails along, absolutely unembarrassed by looks from other drivers in the cars idling next to us at red lights. His tastes are pretty eclectic running from Van Halen to Bob Marley and everything in between. ”Oh turn this song up mom!” he urged, “I LOVE this song!” The reggae beats from “So lonely” were increased to feel the base line thump through the car keeping time to his voice singing the chorus, “bologna, bologna, bologna!” I burst out laughing and sang along for a little while before I gently told him that Sting was singing “so lonely” not bologna. “Oh, okay” was all he said, before belting out “bologna” infinitum at the end of the song.
My friend Misty sent me a link to a youtube video that has taken on a life of it’s own. It is the entrance to a wedding in a beautiful church in Minnesota to the club beats of “Forever” by Chris Brown. The seemingly neverending wedding party strolls down the aisle in a variety of pairs demonstrating their best dance moves, some with rhythm, others clearly without. The seated guests are caught in the edges of the frame smiling, laughing and clapping along. There is an absolute feel of celebration and joy to this wedding, without the typical stuffy classical strains or nervous smiles plastered to the faces of the wedding party moving stiffly down the aisle. Even the female pastor waiting to marry the couple was smiling and clapping along. It was not your typical fairy tale wedding.
Let me start off by stating the obvious, the economy sucks right now. Teachers in Georgia last night found out we will now have a three day furlough in addition to last year’s removal of a much needed cost of living increase of 3 percent (and for the foreseeable future as well). I have several friends who are out of work completely, so hear me when I say that I am more than grateful to have a job at all. Now please let me vent…
One of our pastors spoke about these three qualities, and referred to them as life’s GPS, last Sunday. I definitely have the first one, am working on the second one and struggle with the last. My quest this summer has been to try my hand at writing, through this blog as well as two books that have been practically writing themselves.
I was waiting in my dermatologist’s office the other day for a very exciting body check. I am fair skinned, light eyed and (kind of) blonde, someone who spent every summer frolicking on the beaches of Florida and California growing up. I am basically the poster child for melanoma. The ten minutes of humiliation at being poked and prodded by my doctor, who graciously doesn’t laugh when various body parts wiggle like flesh colored jello, is well worth the piece of mind I find when she hopefully declares my hide to be perfect (ha!).
I don’t usually dislike Mondays. I am a pretty scheduled (read compulsive) kind of person, and the routine of the week is comforting in it’s predictability. So it should come as no shock that I don’t like surprises, not the unexpected roses or found money kind, but those nasty 300 dollar surprises to jerk the covers off of a perfectly fine Monday morning. My plans to spend some quiet time talking to God today were rudely interrupted.
I think I am one of the last people on Earth to see the movie Braveheart. It was on last night, all 3 plus hours of testosterone filled glory. I have heard many men speak reverently about this film and have read several books by author John Eldredge paralleling the themes from the movie to a man’s struggle for his heart. The movie didn’t even start until ten and my plan (ha!) for last night was to get to sleep early, but a phone call from my son’s football coach changed all that. Adam apparently broke his finger last night, the pinkie, throwing the ball around and was headed to the hospital near camp to get it x-rayed. That makes his fifth broken bone including his skull, collar bone, wrist and rib. I dryly told my mom last night that he is apparently working his way down the skeleton, so a broken leg is probably next on the list. The coach told me they would call, so to just hang tight.