Word Play

Aargh, me hearties--my mind is wanderin' today, about words and such. One pair is "hearty" and "hardy." I've seen both used with the word "appetite," though I would probably only use "hearty." The dictionary says that Hardy means "capable of enduring fatigue, hardship, exposure; sturdy." Like a having a Hardy Constitution, or favorite late-summer Hardy Mums. As well as, of course, the Hardy Boys, who enjoyed both Hearty Appetites *and* Hearty Laughter....

There are several definitions for the word "hearty:"
--physically vigorous; strong and well (as in Hale and Hearty)
--substantial, abundant, nourishing (as in a Hearty Meal, tho' if you use the meaning of "abundant," you might get away with Hardy Appetite!)
--warm-hearted, affectionate, cordial, jovial (as in a Hearty Welcome)
--genuine, sincere, heartfelt (as in Hearty Approval or Hearty Dislike)
--exuberant, unrestrained (as in Hearty Laughter)

Then there is the definition--a sailor (aargh, me hearties!)

After thinking about Hearty/Hardy for awhile, my mind wandered to the word Mum (probably because it is time to buy Hardy Mums).

We have the term of endearment for "mother," from the Brits--how much do I love visiting blogs where the description is "mum to four," or whatever.

Mum can also mean silent, as in Keep Mum--remember Loose Lips Sink Ships! She was mum on the subject--is this word a noun, verb, or adjective? Maybe all of them?

The flower--of course, *mum* is an abbreviation for the word Chrysanthemum--always a biggie at spelling bees. Isn't the royal Japanese throne called Chrysanthemum? So cool.

Chrysanthemum reminded me of one of Joe Hardy's classmates in school--a girl of Greek extraction named Xrisanthi (pronounced Chris-on-thee). The *X*, pronounced "chris" is the same X as in the Chi Rho symbol for Christ. See an image of the Chi Rho here.

When I was little, I called the Chi Rho the P-X, probably because my sister married an Air Force guy, and she shopped at the B-X. Then I thought that the P-X was also a symbol for Pax, the Latin word for Peace (they still had Latin Mass when I was little). Certainly any symbol that meant "Christ" would also mean "peace."

So now, at nine a.m. on a Saturday (now I'm thinking of the Billy Joel song "Piano Man--"it's nine o'clock on a Saturday"--only he meant nine P.M.) and I'm totally confused about Words and such. And the front porch is calling--a gorgeous, gorgeous morning. So I will follow its Siren Song, with my hearty/hardy appetite, and maybe go get some hearty/hardy mums as well!

And Try to stop Thinking.

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Mrs. U over at Making a House a Home is celebrating her Blog Anniversary by giving away some very cool prizes!

Go on over and check her out!

Week in Review

Grands getting cool in the pool:
Pretty thrift store plates:

Two more "state" plates. Charming is from Michigan. I don't have any connection to Arkansas, but the old-timey green pattern goes with my vintage dinnerware, so I had to have it:

Pretty blue dish to hold three yellow candles:

Finished quilt top with NYC theme:

Here is a close-up of some New York squares. The observant among you will notice the IU square--yes, IU is still in Indiana! The recipient of this quilt is an IU alum:

Another close-up. I just love the Fireworks fabric in the outside triangles:

I am moving right along with quilting Number One of Five quilts in my two-year project. This finished quilt top is Number Five of Five. Yippee! All since January 1st.

This morning I *found* the public rooms of the house under a Hansel and Gretel trail of toys that the grandbabies hid from me throughout the week. I think I saw all four everyday--now *That* is a great week!!

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

My Daddy turns 85 today.

His birthday was always the first "full" day of summer, and every year, when we greeted him in the morning, he would say, "Winter's comin': the days are getting shorter!" (very funny in the days pre-air-conditioning...) His birthday also always fell the same week as Father's Day. That's why you didn't see a post on Sunday about How Fabulous He Is.

The story goes that his mother went to the circus the day before he was born; then went home and went directly into labor with him. "Loved the monkeys so much, she wanted one of her own," Daddy says. He was born in a little country house in Huntington County, Indiana. My grandma told me that, in the 20's, you never left the church sanctuary to nurse your baby; neither did you bother covering up. She told me you just "whipped it out, nobody paid no mind."

Daddy had the reputation as a wild boy. My favorite story is how he and a friend put an outhouse on top of the bank building downtown. My question was always, Why? but then, I'm a girl, so I guess I'd never understand, anyway.

Daddy was a fly-boy in WWII (dubya-dubya Two--The Big One), so I've heard a lot of stories. He came home to his wife and two babies, and made a good life. I was born eighth in the family--he was 33. He was a cutting-edge technology kinda guy--we all had great stereos in the 70's--he would "upgrade" and give us the "last year's model." He bought a video camera (black and white) when the camera was not the "recorder": you also had to carry a vcr in a sling on your shoulder. The cheapest place to buy a blank vcr tape was at the GE employee store--$35.00 Apiece. He bought a calculator when they were the New Thing: four-function (add, subtract, multiply, divide): $100.00. My brother has it; I have the next model, adding a square-root feature.

So many, many things I could tell you about him; so many ways in which I am grateful for the Man He Is. He taught me about my heavenly Father by his example. He proved a perfect model for me, when it came time to choose a husband. As a Grandpa, there is none better. As a Daddy, he is the Absolute Best.

Happy Birthday, Daddy. I'll always be your Barbie Doll.

Pieces of a Day

I've been at the sewing machine for weeks now, doing quilt tops and a few other sundry things. My neck and lower back are beginning to scream at me, begging for relief. So last night, I put an ice pack on my neck, leaned back on the sofa, and began to quilt this project: Oh, OH, I love quilting!! The in, out, in, out of the needle; then pulling the thread through--what a rush!

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I keep a long-running list in my head of things I want, but don't want to pay full price for. I have been able to get two of them in the last few days! At a garage sale on Saturday, I picked up another set of Tupperware popsicle makers. I have other, cheaper ones, but the "stems" break from time to time. The Tupperware ones are much better. Right now in the freezer I have one set doing duty as popsicles, and another as pudding pops. *That* is a great deal--29 cent instant pudding from Aldi's and 2 cups of milk make nine pops.

Another thing on my "list" was the Handbook of Nature Study by Anna Botsford Comstock. This is an 850-page paperback, and every year I think I'm going to buy it, but other curriculum needs cry out more urgently. But yesterday at the Used Curriculum Sale, I found it for $4.00:

Not only that, but the owner had had it spiral-bound in two volumes--much nicer to handle!

Today is Okay-a-week-of-summer-break-is-over-and-we-need-a-LITTLE-routine-here Day. We I went over again Daily Chores, Reading Plans, and, midst groans of disappointment, declared the house a No-Media Zone for the day. So, I'd better get off, before they catch me....

Fun Times

Saturday evening was fun. Charming was working, and Alvin Fernald was on a campout, leaving Blackeyed Susan and me alone. Johnny Tremain was in Chicago at bachelor-party digs for a college friend, leaving Lily and the children alone. The obvious answer was to spend the evening together at Lily's!

I had leftover barbeque chicken, mashed 'taters and corn for Susan and me, and Lily cooked for her crew. Once supper was finished, our project for the evening was Laying Out Quilts, because there isn't enough room anywhere at my house to do this.

I had four tops done, and only one backing put together. We were able to sew those, and to lay out three of them to pin. Lily and Susan crawled around, pinning the "sandwiches" together, because my knees are unwilling to do it. They Joked about me paying them for their work--ha. My mother said that Work Well Done Is Its Own Reward. I know they think so, too!

We left the last top undone, becuase Lily and Susan had to do the first one twice--large, large wrinkles appeared as they took it up from the floor. They got a little grouchy, and I don't understand why--work well done being its own reward, and all. But since I have the squares done for two more tops, we (they) will pin them with the undone one when I get the other tops finished.

I spent Sunday and Monday basting two of the quilts, so they are ready to quilt. My a/c at home is Feast or Famine--of course it is least effective in my own bedroom, but seems to work Very Well in the Den, with the vent right behind the couch, so the frigid air comes rushing out over your feet as you watch tv. So doing some quilting, with the bulk of the quilt hanging over my feet sounds like a Great Summertime Activity.

This morning Lily and I are going to the Used Curriculum Sale put on by our homeschool association. I have gotten some dynamic dealies there before, and hope to again. I need to stay away from the Boxes and Boxes of Books for 10 and 25 cents. I Simply Don't Have Room For Them.

Or maybe I'll buy another bookcase today at Wal-mart...

I'm a Winner!!!

Wow! I'm a winner over at Life is Like a Lunchbox's Apronpalooza!! If you click on the link, you'll see the dreamy apron I won.

Here is ztoamom, who made the apron I won. You can find her "artsy" blog here.

I'm so glad that aprons are making a comeback. I have been in the middle of a two-year, five-quilt project (6 months down and doin' *okay* so far...), but I am itchin' to get into the Apron Thing. I have collected some fabrics and patterns that are waiting for me to "do them up!"

I remember the beginnings of the Feminist movement in the late '60's. Aprons were considered chains that held women to the home, keeping them from their destinies. So for the most part, they went by the wayside.

Yet, we never "looked down on" gardeners who wore aprons, or chefs, (or husband-barbeque-types) or welders, or...whomever *else* wore aprons. Now, think about why these people wear aprons:

To keep their clothes clean.

So, we were "freed" from the apron strings, but chained to the washing machine?

I'm glad to see the return of the apron, more for the Femininity than anything else. I remember my Mother putting on her apron in the morning--that signalled that she was ready for her day. (She had at least seven. It was my job to iron them--back in the day (for you younger gals) young girls started by learning to iron "flat" things--hankies, aprons, pillowcases.) My grandmother made my Mom's aprons--I remember she went through a phase of Cross-Stitching On Gingham--easy to do, and it made it a little fancier.

I don't have any of my mother's or grandmother's aprons--they were thrown out of even the rag-bag long ago. I did make quite a haul at a thrift store a few years ago--I got 12 or 15 aprons for 25 cents apiece (the cashier didn't even know what to charge me!) that were starched and folded--looked like someone just dumped a drawerful of Grandma's treasures after she passed away. Each one is "fancied" up in one way or another--a shapely pocket, embroidery, bindings. Women in former days knew that making your "tools" a little prettier took away some of the drudgery.

If you want a "crash course" in Aprons, go visit Apronista and find your Apron Groove...

Addendum to Previous Post

Okay, so reading over the post below, I sound a little defensive. Okay, Quite A Bit defensive.

Charming (one of whose major jobs in this marriage is to Talk Me Down From Ledges) made me realize that most, if not all people who pose the question "describe yourself," are not trying to Degrade Motherhood and Marriage. Maybe *they* don't take the time to pose the question exactly as they want it answered.

How easy it would be, Charming says, if , when asked to describe myself, I reply, "what would you like to know?" That way, the questioner could say, "what kind of books do you like to read? what do you like to do when you have a day by yourself? what do you like to do on vacation?" and I would not intimate from their *tone,* "you loser, aren't you anything but a baby factory? do you just like to hide behind your husband, you mousey good-for-nothing?"

See. Talking Me Down From The Ledge Once Again.

That's why I love this man.

Who I Am, Really

I was interested by the thoughts posed by the Headmistress at the Common Room, who was commenting on the book
Seasons of a Family's Life by Wendy Wright. The Headmistress is talking about defining ourselves as Mothers, also as Wives.

I have been in the situation many times, where I am asked to "describe myself." When I begin, "I am a wife of 31 years, mother of eight..." I get no further when the person interrupts: "No. Tell me who YOU are, not whose "wife" you are, or whose "mother" you are."

This always frustrates me. So, so much of my identity is wrapped up in those relationships. I'm not "me" without them.

When I came to motherhood at nineteen (and marriage ten weeks later, at twenty), I was a certain person, a person with so-and-so personality, and so-and-so both interesting and irritating characteristics. I am in no way that person anymore (tho' maybe the Irritations are still there!). Now I can say, "I am a person with a certain amount of patience, for 'Tribulation worketh patience,' and being a wife and mother has cultivated that." I can say, "I am a person who has acquired some Wisdom, both from being married, raising eight children, and by "just getting up in the morning."" I can say, "I am a person with quite a store of Interpersonal Relationship Skills," by reason of the same.

The questioner retorts, "But, if you didn't *have* a husband or children, how would you describe yourself?"

What an unanswerable question. I cannot describe myself outside of these relationships. You can't close Pandora's box, neither can I ever separate Who I Am from those relationships.

When pressed, I could say, "I am a quilter," or "I am a reader," or, "I am a Non-Confrontational person, a Peace-maker,(or any other facets of my temperament)", but those monikers seem so absolutely empty for me. I have a high IQ, but really had very little Common Sense until my forties. I had "some college," but got married in the middle. Even if I had a degree (a thing for which to be proud, and which no one could take away from me), it would be just an Accomplishment, not really a description of "who I am."

Nope. I prefer to describe myself BY my relationships; daughter of my Father God, daughter, sister, wife, mother, mother-in-law, grandma, friend, good neighbor, and on and on. These, I think, are much more important that What I've Accomplished.

When all is said and done, I want people, not Accomplishments, to be standing beside me at the end of my life. These are who I am.

Mrs. Beeton Everywhere You Look

"Do you remember Mrs Beeton's illustration for a simple supper party? Three epergnes of red roses down the centre, and smilax trailing everywhere?"

"Our old edition had a picture of a tray for an invalid," recalled Amy. "There were two trumpet-shaped flower vases with carnations, as well as two or three dishes complete with silver covers, a coffeee pot, milk jug and sugar bowl. I don't think you could lift the thing, let alone stagger upstairs with it. But I must say it looked superb."

"I pity anyone being taken ill at my house. A plate of toast and a mug of tea would about be my limit."

Village Centernary, by Miss Read

I missed the Masterpiece Theater a couple of weeks ago about Mrs. Beeton, a Victorian-age Betty Crocker/Heloise/Miss Manners type. You can read about her here.

Village Centenary is set in 1980, so you can see how wide-spread an influence Mrs. Beeton's book enjoyed. Here in our house, it would be poached eggs on toast and 7-up, but most probably served on the couch, so Mama can still run things. Otherwise, of course, everyone would be In My Room, and recovery would be delayed, anyway....

Future Newbery Winner

[Note: You need to know that Joe Hardy sleeps in our basement, in the room next to the laundry.]

Last night, I sent Alvin Fernald down to the basement to rearrange the load in a washer that was making a whole lot of noise and rocking back and forth. He came back upstairs to say:

"One of these mornings we're going to find that the washer has walked all the way into Joe's room, climbed up in his bed, and pulled up the covers."

Wouldn't that make a nice idea for a children's picture book?

Yummy Is in the Eye of the Beholder

"I am waiting patiently in line at the Londis market with my Mullerice and a jar of bramble jam when I notice what the burly fellow in front of me is buying. It is a tin of--wait for it--Mr. Brain's Pork Faggots.*

* In a rich West Country Sauce. What, still not hungry?"

--Sixpence House--Lost in a Town of Books by Paul Collins

Gotta love foreign food, or at least the stuff that's "foreign" to us. Then again, you don't really *have* to love foreign food.

I am probably one of your less adventurous eaters. I have tried Vegemite--once. As well as caviar--once. No need to belabor the thing.

My daughter Violet was able to travel abroad twice during her college days. She went for a month to Oxford/Cambridge (forget which, sorry) with a side trip to Ireland. She walked into a grocery one day to find a package with a conspicuous American Flag sticker on it: Corn Dogs!! Eaten By Millions Of American Schoolchildren Every Day!! Poor schoolchildren--probably the number one reason I chose to homeschool....

She also went to an American Style Restaurant, and ordered an American Style Cheeseburger and milkshake. We all know that Europeans don't "do" ice in their drinks, but her "milkshake" was decidedly Not Frozen, either. Kind of like the Frosty Mix at Wendy's before they put it in the machine to freeze it.

Then there was the Burger. It's condiments were "distinctly American?" [not.] Shredded cheese and Chutney. I'm sure you've seen it at Burger King: "The NEW Shredded Cheese/Chutney Burger!"

I don't mind if they are Distinctly British, but for goodness' sake, the population has never heard of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. When Violet told them of this tasty treat, the reaction was, "oh, dear. Why would you want to mix chocolate and peanut butter?" She sent some to her friends that Christmas...

My family took a trip to Canada in 1966, when McDonald's hamburgers were 15 cents. Going out to get a burger and fries was a Fun Vacation Thing.

The restaurant we went to was not a McDonald's, but Daddy ordered like it was. Seven burgers and Seven fries, please. The waitress's eyes got Very Large as she asked him to repeat his order. "Are you sure you want seven orders of fries?"

She came back with seven Platters of fries. These are the size your entire Applebee's meal is served on. Daddy: "could you bring us some ketchup, please?" When she went back to get some ketchup, we saw her whispering to the other servers: Look at Those Aliens Over There. We figured out that the bottles and bottles of Malt Vinegar sitting on the table were for the fries. Daddy tried it; I was loathe to put anything labeled Vinegar on my food. But that explained the little round I had learned in music class: Fish and chips and vinegar, pepper, pepper, pepper, pot.

We ate fries (cold) for a bedtime snack. Daddy wanted to take them in the car the next morning, but Mother said No Way. *That* foreign adventure was Over.

The Invitation

Last night was Blackeyed Susan's dance recital. She was in a dance called The Invitation by Maurice Skylar. You may know the song: "To Him who sits on the throne and unto the Lamb/be blessing and honor and power and glory forever." A very haunting instrumental. I did not get photos during the performance due my poor position in the church, but Susan and her friend Ashlee posed for me:
Susan is the dark-haired one. Here is one more:

Here is Susan at the cookies-and-punch soiree with her Daddy. The heavy makeup was starting to transform her into Racoon-Girl:

These events show clearly how little time we still have our lovely daughter at home. She is fourteen--Already! Sitting in the audience, I could see her beginning to look more like my mother, and Susan's two sisters.

The most fun of the evening was Laura Carrot (age 2 1/2) sitting behind me, when two girls on pointe with full romantic tutus (the long ones) in aqua with aqua satin tops with LOTS of sequins did a dance. Laura (with HUGE wide eyes): "There's one Princess! There's TWO Princesses!!" She was able to meet the "two princesses" and Blackeyed Susan gained points with Laura when she told her that the Princesses were her friends.

A beautiful night.

J E L L O !!

Gotta love this fabric. If you grew up in the 50's and 60's as I did, Jello was a Big. Deal. "There's always room for Jello!" the ads told us. And the colors! Red--Strawberry with bananas added was a favorite. Sometimes the school lunches would have Orange with shredded carrots, or (ugh) Green with shredded cabbage. I guess Jello couldn't decide if it was a Salad or a Dessert. FYI--in the 31+ years that I have been married, a Jello Salad has never appeared on my table.

Jello was good for other things, as well. Knox Unflavored was used for strong fingernails. Jello-water was used when babies had tummy trouble. Just put a spoonful in a water-filled baby bottle. Some nutrition, they said, and it usually stayed down. (though I remember a Jello-water shower I received one time...) Now we have Pedialyte. Where's the fun in that?

And what is it with Jello? Or is it just me? I have several boxes in my cupboard, that become invisible. It's like I never think of serving Jello for dessert, unless I do the Fourth of July United States Mold with Red jello/Lemon jello mixed with ice cream/Blue jello. (Hello. There is just something WRONG about blue jello. Oh, yeah, and blue popsicles.) So there those packages sit, month after month.

I don't *do* Jello Jigglers, though. The consistency is just too weird for me. I always think that somebody Just Made It Wrong. Don't mess with my Jello.

There is the fake color/flavoring thing, of course. But I guess I am just old enough to think Jello is cool, *in spite of*. So if you have a package in your cupboard (and I *know* you do!) make some tonight and have some Fun.

Things are Hoppin' at the Barn

I am late making this for Blueberry's first birthday, because I could not find my pattern. It is a barn tote bag, with ten animals inside. I made one for Alvin Fernald's first birthday, eleven years ago. Here you see the bag. Standing in front are the piggy, chicken, bunny, and cow: Not to be outdone, the goat, ducky, lamb, and horse push everybody out of the way, so they can get in the picture:

What kind of farm would you have without a gingham dog and a calico cat?

I am so proud of myself. I finished Sweet Pea's first birthday present two weeks early. It is the book Little Pea, by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. I made a nice, soft Little Pea out of bright green flannel:

Whew. Not another birthday until July.

E-I-E-I-O.

Nature Study

"Paul looked, with new wonder, at the blossoming cherry tree, which overhung the low stone wall of the next-door garden. For the first time he noticed, with a thrill of joy, the delicate white flowers suspended by thread-like stalks to the black tracery of the boughs. Those threads, he realized suddenly, would dangle cherries later where the flowers now danced, and he would be able to hang them over his ears and waggle his head gently from side to side for the pleasure of feeling the firm glossy berries nudging his cheek. It was a moment of poignant discovery for young Paul, and he felt a thrill of pride as he realized that he knew now exactly how the cherries came to be. In future they would be doubly beautiful, for he would remember the glory of that pendant snow even as he sensuously enjoyed the feel of the fruit against his face and the cool freshness in his mouth as he bit it."

Thrush Green by Miss Read

Magic on the Porch

Charming and I were doing devotions on the front porch this morning. It was fairly quiet--not a lot of traffic, but we could hear several kinds of birds about their morning duties. We were fascinated by the shadows cast by our spirea bush, which is sporting tiny new leaves (finally!)

Notice that some of the shadows are smudgy, and seem in the background behind the more clearly "drawn," darker ones. And here I always thought that shadows were two-dimensional. God is more creative than that, fer sure!

We went on to discuss the different shadows cast at different times of day, and different times of the year. And the fact that God chose to create shadows at all. It was really neat to find this little picture painted by the Lord, while we were discussing His word.

Our verse this morning was so wonderful--Hebrews 13:20-21:

"May the God of peace...equip you wih everything good for doing His will, and may He work in us what is pleasing to Him, through Jesus Christ."

This is a prayer I can pray for all of my children, and for myself as well. It was truly "magic" on the porch this Saturday morning.

First Mowing

"The first cut of the year is always the best."--Alvin Fernald:
We had a nice day earlier in the week, and Charming had Alvin *tied to his leg* for the day. They went to the old-fashioned plumbing store, where if they don't have the piece you need, they can make it--good for when you live in an older home. But they bought pieces "off the rack" to fix the leaking bathtub faucet. They also replaced light phosphorescent light bulbs, and then tag-teamed the mowing and weed-eating in the back yard. Alvin got to do both in our (smaller) front yard.

After he finished, we noticed the teeny-tiny doggie across the street, yipping at his front door:

He is about eight or ten weeks old, and should not have been without a collar and leash. So Alvin went across, looking for same, or for open doors or windows from which "Scrappy" could have escaped. No such luck, so he played with him for awhile. Then we remembered another neighbor might have an extra leash, so we used that and secured Scrappy to the porch. When his Mom and Dad got home, they found he had escaped his leash in the backyard. Alvin could not see it for the long grass.

Later, Charming grilled burgers and we had the grandkids and their parents over. Alvin was so, So, SO filthy! After a shower, I sent him to bed. He said, "After this day, I don't think I'll have any trouble falling asleep, Mom."

Truer words were never spoken.

Buried for 25 years...

My brother and his wife will be married 25 years next week. About the same time, my grandmother broke up housekeeping to move to a senior apartment. We were living 300 miles away at the time, so Robin got the bulk of Grandma's sewing treasures. She has shared with me through the years, for which I am grateful. She has always told me about a group of quilt squares Grandma gave her, "and as soon as I find them, half of them are yours." I never got too excited, as Grandma thought that double-knit polyester was God's Greatest Gift to Man, and she made a number of quilts out of that *fabulous* fabric. (By the way, those quilts are still goin' strong. I am always reminded of them when I go to a church camp...but I digress.) In the last month, she has re-done her sewing room, and they finally came to light. What she didn't tell me was that the squares were made by my grandmother's grandmother:
There were thirty of them, and Robin gave me sixteen, and she kept fourteen.

Somehow we always think of these ancient women making perfect, tiny stitches, but the quality of these is not quite "up to par" with that assumption. I don't know if maybe they were made by her in her old age, with arthritic hands. But let me tell you, they make me feel good about my *talent* or lack thereof. My Quilting Motto stands: Finished is Better than Perfect.

This week I made a "gig bag" for my autoharp. Charming bought me this instrument 15+ years ago. It came in a chipboard (read: cheap) case, and within the first year the handle came loose. Over the next years the case has ripped and been taped and re-taped. Not that I even play it very often; it usually comes out only at Christmas.
I was going to throw away the old case at first, but the bag is not the most adequate protection for the instrument, which is pretty heavy, so I kept the case as added security. Here you see the lining, a pretty, vintage-looking blue:

On to another front:

Well, it has been almost a month since we got our new car, and I braved the license bureau to title it and get plates. Indiana is offering an alternate plate bearing the words In God We Trust:

Words to live by, as the trip to the Bureau set me back $387.00 and change. But kudos to Indiana for offering the plate. Might not see this in California or New York...gotta love us *provincial* Midwesterners.

Well, the sun is out again, after a week of 1) four days of snow and 2) three days of rain. Should hit 50 degrees, too. Our poor daffodils--all over town they were laying on the ground. Hope my lilacs survive....more on that later!

Happy Blackeyed Susan Day!

Blackeyed Susan turned fourteen today. This has been a year of great physical and emotional growth for her. More importantly, Susan knows the Lord, which will be the key to navigating her way through the sometimes stormy waters of teenage-hood.

Absent-mindedly, I didn't remember until the night before that I had the responsibility of a birthday cake. Hello. We have celebrated One Hundred Eighty-Seven birthdays in this family already, [not counting Charming's and mine] yet somehow I forgot. How timely that just this morning I read of a very cute, cute cake idea here:

I used fourteen lollipops instead of candles.

Now to the presents! In our family, the privilege of drinking coffee is reserved for those over the magic age of 14, so this was the "morning" gift: Then Daddy and Alvin Fernald went shopping for this baby: Don't fail to note the Cubs-logo baseball.

This gift would have gotten more use if the weather had reached thirty degrees here. Hello--April?

Susan assured herself of full family attendance at dinner by choosing Steak and Mushrooms for her meal. Her older brothers marveled that they had chosen things like hot-ham-and-cheese sandwiches and pizza when they were coming along the pike. Can Susan help it if she's a little more savvy than they? I think not.

Susan finished her wonderful day by having brother/sister friends overnight. She and Alvin and they played cards and Apples to Apples till about 11:30 pm. It is now 1:30 am and they are still talking in their sleeping bags.

Good. Maybe I'll have a little time for myself in the morning.