And Yet Another Gratitude Post--Part 1

(Taken from a post entitled: Get Your Gratitude On! Tuesday, November 22, 20ll…)

At the time TLC and I did this post, we’d done another “gratitude” post a couple of months before. We were clearly into thankfulness to the zillionth power.

As of November 22, 2011, Little Leighton hadn’t been born. Actually, she was here—but TLC hadn't verified it yet. Cobbler and Mortimer—The Cats—were alive and well. My Sweet Hubby (MSH) had not yet retired and had not experienced two scary, serious, devastating heart attacks and a copperhead snake bite. I hadn’t retired. I hadn’t realized I was about to become a Grammy Nanny, Nurse, and part-time ambulance driver.

Rather than copy and paste this post (which, as y’all know, I have no clue how to do—TLC runs that department), I’ve decided to delete/edit/update our “Gratitudes.” I’ll start with TLC’s List from that date. (Mine will be upcoming in a few days!)

What TLC Is Grateful For At This Very Moment:

1. The Grace and Forgiveness of God. The Love of Jesus. Answered (and some unanswered) prayers.
2. My husband, whom I adore. Our daughter, Little Leighton, and our daughter-to-be, Baby Leighton. My parents (I have no idea what I did to deserve them.). My brothers, sisters-in-law, nieces, nephews and my extended family via my husband. My dear friends. Everyone’s good health.
3. My precious, wild man, Henry, and Teddy Buddy Boo Bear. The smiles and giggles these wacky dogs bring to me are priceless.
4. My warm (and NEW TO ME!) home. My parents’ pretty/cozy/country home on top of their hill.
5. All five of my senses. I admit I take these for granted. They are truly gifts. I can’t imagine not being able to smell coffee brewing on a Saturday morning. Or not seeing a magnificent rainbow.
6. Freedom. As Martina McBride sings: Let Freedom Ring!
7. Food. Mostly especially: pumpkin cheesecake; ELC’s lasagna; ANYTHING my Dad makes/bakes/grills/creates (specifically his Thanksgiving dressing!); In-n-Out burgers; Sonic tater tots; and last, but not least, My Hubby’s homemade ice cream.
8. Twinkle lights. Candy canes. My “Rat Pack” holiday CD. Christmas Vacation. The Spirit of this Amazingly Wonderful Time of Year.
9. Clothes. My most cherished and treasured? Yoga pants and UGGS. Oh, and a sweater two sizes too big. (At nearly six months’ pregnant, I’d guess TLC would say ANYTHING two sizes too big. Winky. Wink.)
10. Mr. Clean Magic Erasers. WOW. What CAN’T they do?
11. Last, but not least, excitement for the upcoming 2016! Baby Leighton! The Promise and Hope a New Year brings.

Happy Three Days After Thanksgiving, Y’all!

Life

Today, on Thanksgiving, this is what TLC and I are grateful for. Life.

Tuesday night, My Sweet Hubby (MSH) lost his best friend (truly he was more like the brother MSH had never had) to a massive heart attack. He was 68. He'd introduced us over 38 years ago. They'd been friends for over 42 years.

He was an attorney that was brave, funny, strong, kind, tough, quick and dependable. He was a husband, father, grandfather and gentleman. MSH's life will not be the same without him.

TLC had known him her whole young life. He was like her silly Uncle. He was the man who performed her wedding ceremony nearly six years ago. He tried to say no. TLC wouldn't let him. He did an incredible job. We knew he would.

He, and his precious family, will be in our hearts today as we remember all of God's blessings. We'll smile. Laugh. Cry.

May this day be special to each of you...wherever you are...

hugs and smooches...

Gone Grammy...

This post is from November 9, 2014:

It’s a beautiful afternoon in North Central Texas, Dear Friends! My Sweet Hubby (MSH) and I have spent the day doing “chores.” Many outside. Yesterday was pretty windy up here on our hill. Today it is positively perfect. After publishing this, I'll be ready to be lazy.

I simply cannot believe it’s November 9^th and this is only our second post. Like TLC, I sincerely want to apologize. As she shared, Little Leighton (LL) has been a sick Angel Biscuit for too long. In fact, it’ll be three weeks on Wednesday that she was hit with this evil congestion illness. No fever. Lots of breathing difficulties (She doesn’t understand this, thank goodness, but her snoring rivals that of her Pa-Pa’s—and, well, okay, her Grammy’s sometimes, too.) and a scary-sounding cough. May be just a cold. But it's a booger. TLC has taken her to the doctor once. Thinks, perhaps, another trip may be forthcoming if LL isn't significantly better by Tuesday.

TLC got this yucky crud—or something similar—a week ago. She’s been struggling to breathe. Think. Move. She's also been to her doctor. (Neither of these gals were given prescriptions.) I've been suggesting, since yesterday morn, that TLC needs to go back again. STAT. I made the trip East last week to try to help out for two nights/three days. Could be heading that way, again, in a couple of days. God love My Puny Girls and bless them with His healing Grace.

About five weeks ago, TLC started the famously popular book Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn. She finished it in two days. Quite the feat for my VERY OCD daughter that must have her home clean and picked up AT ALL TIMES and who must also fix wonderful meals (gluten-free, now, naturally) for her family. I’m fairly certain she stayed up entirely too late, burning the midnight oil. (Me thinks she was trying to accomplish this so she could see the movie. TLC and I both like to try to read any book that is made into a movie. "Try" being the key word.)

She gave me the book—hoping, against all odds, I’d finish it as fast as she did. Then we might have been able to figure out how we could go see the movie together. Something we’ve not been able to do since LL was born. "The Best Laid Plans of Mice and..." daughters and mothers.

BECAUSE...yep...first illness descended upon their casa and, then, I only completed it yesterday. Took me every bit of five weeks. Here’s my problem (and this happens to me at movie theatres—way WAY too often): When I get comfy and still, when the temperature is just perfect for my cold-natured body, when I have a Coke Zero and a couple of hours to spare, I get all cozy and focused and...fall asleep. Dead to the world. Out. Like a light. Virtually comatose. Occasionally doing that snoring thing Precious LL is forced to do. Which isn't so embarrassing at home. It is, however, humiliating at a movie theatre. Sigh. Sheesh.

TLC asked me every day, after she gave me the book and for approximately two weeks: “Have you had a chance to readGone Girl? Isn’t it intriguing? Isn’t it suspenseful? Don’t you just love it?” I had to confess I wasn't getting more than about four pages read at each of my attempts.

After two weeks? She quit asking.

As I did get pages/chapters read, I’d tell her: “Wow. You’re right. This is compelling.” Then I’d try to guess where the book was going. Who the bad guy/gal was going to be. Halfway through the book, I said: “It’s going to be his Dad. Her Mom. Or his sister. Am I close?” Said TLC, calmly: “Keep reading. You aren’t going to be able to guess this one, Mom.”

Wowzer. She was right.

Could I recommend it to y’all? Since I may not actually know you? Or to my friends? Hmmm. I’m not sure. It’s very blunt. Has lots of racy/inappropriate language.  At least for Senior Citizen-type peeps like moi. Could be too-over-the-top for many. I'd completely understand.

And, yet…I'm certainly not sorry that I read it (I might have told TLC once or twice, the past few weeks, that I wasn't sure I understood why she recommended it to her Mama. She alleges that, since I love my Datelines', 20-20s' and 48 Hours' mysteries and murders, she had no doubt I'd relish reading this book. I get that. I do.) and want, desperately, to see the movie! I’ve had a few fun discussions with TLC about many aspects of the story and the (crazy and that is the understatement of the decade) characters.

I've told My Dear Friend (MDF), Mackie, who read it and saw the movie before TLC was unable to put it down, it would scare me to death if Gillian Flynn ever got into cahoots with Shonda Rhimes. I can barely get through Scandal and How to Get away with Murder every Thursday night. If Ms. Flynn contributed to these shows or came up with a new one/idea with Ms. Rhimes? YIKES. Bring out the smelling salts, please.

What will be my next reading choice? MDF has a suggestion. TLC has read a couple more books in the past weeks she thinks I'd enjoy. Hmmm. Not sure. Might take a break for a bit to build up my stamina and courage to read TLC's suggestions. I actually need to finish a book about an actress that was (finally, after many, many years) diagnosed with Celiac. It's hugely interesting. I stopped reading it to switch to GG. As per TLC's instructions...

Bye for now...this Grammy is GONE.

smooch...

Scorpion-Gate

This post is from November 8, 2012:

(By The Way: TLC, having moved into a new home five-ish months ago, has killed TWO scorpions recently. One at her back door. One crawling out from under Little Leighton's bed! And, actually, let me clarify this--TLC didn't kill the scorpions herself. Luckily, for her, both incidents happened when Her Hubby was home. So he killed them. We hate/despise/cannottolerate scorpions.)

On ELC's way home from her adventurous and solo trip to Houston, she stopped Sunday to pick me and Little Leighton up to chauffeur us down to her country casa for a couple of R&R days.

The beginning of the drive was typical: LL snoozed. Mom and I chatted, listened to the radio. Ate Peanut M&M's (Snack Size, of course). Right as we were waving goodbye to Fort Worth in our rearview mirror, LL woke up. She was quiet and content at first. Then all hell broke loose as we approached the west side of Weatherford. I was in the back seat with her. As always. She was mad. Wanted out of the carseat. NOW. The only thing we could do to calm this Baby (and our nerves) down was to pull over into a somewhat shady gas station off the Interstate. My attempt to hold her and give her a cold bottle (it was in my diaper bag for later—when it could be warmed) were futile. At that point, I believed the only thing that would stop her cries was to bre@stfeed her. Some of you may remember an earlier post about another of our trips to the country when I had to soothe her this way in a Walmart parking lot. On Sunday we upgraded that delightful experience to driving down a county road and parking outside of a locked and rusted gate that had a For Sale sign on it. Classy. We're pretty sure that's not considered trespassing.

Monday was seemingly uneventful. We staged a Christmas card photo shoot on ELC’s front porch, much to LL's dismay. Then we played. We rocked. She napped. And, we're positive, thrilled us with her first giggle! Priceless. On Tuesday morning, as LL lay on her activity mat in my old-now-it's the-Guest-room, I told Mom how much I loved coming home to the country. Not two hours later, IT happened. Something so spine-chilling to moi it made me rethink that statement.

We were packing up to head back North to my home. ELC was changing LL's diaper. I excused myself to use the powder room. As I was reaching for the toilet paper, I felt something crawling on my left thigh. My immediate reaction was to knock it off. I initially thought it was a spider. Which, in and of itself, made me shriek. But then I saw them: two, tiny "pinchers" and a long, curled tail. Running toward my bare feet. It was a SCORPION. My one shriek turned into thirty. I ran out of the bathroom, holding the toilet paper, and with my jeans around my ankles. LL didn't know what to think of her lunatic Mama. ELC came rushing over. I. WAS/AM. TRAUMATIZED. I don't do scorpions. ELC searched, in vain, for that evil devil. (She’s just informed me by text that their “Pest Man” came this afternoon. Praise The Lord.)

I’m not even going into the details of us trying to get out of my parents’ gate twenty minutes later. Except to say this: it wouldn’t open. My Dad had to come from 25 minutes away to help us. More drama. (And, apparently, more repairpersons.)

On a brighter note, here are two extra lovely and pumpkin-y pictures from my weekend at ELC’s:

Cute little sign hangin' outside the barn. 

Pretty little pumpkin perched on the bench My Sweet Dad made.