Come Some Rainy Day

I am still recovering from the Wynona concert.

It was an amazing show and a 13 hour wait in our car, (thankfully) garnished us 2nd row seats.

Sadly, our stalking of Jeff Bates did not result in us getting to meet Wynona. His words exactly, "I kinda do my thang, and she does hers." But still, all in all, it WILL be a highlight of my summer.

Without a doubt, the coolest thing about that chilly, wet, Thursday in Muskegon was sharing it with Kate and Meg W. If not for Meg, we wouldn't have video footage or for that matter, even known which bus was hers. Thanks to Kate with her tokens and contraband, I did not feel the wind chill of 44 degrees and we illegally captured a few priceless photos for the archives.

To be honest with you, and I'm sure I speak for Kate when I say, the warmest feeling I got in my heart that day came, not when the sun made an appearance at show time, but while watching our two teenage girls soak up the ambience and atmosphere of a musical artist, such as Ms. Judd. Good times.

Oh, Lord my God
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the worlds thy hands have made
I see the stars
I hear the rolling thunder
Thy power throughout
The universe displayed
Then sings my soul
My savior God to thee
How great thou art



It is the day before.

The day before my daughter turns me into radical fan.

The day before she convinces me to go hardcore crazy and help her secure a front row seat at our first ever summer cel concert.

That is the goal.

Secondary, but no less tenacious in her quest, would be to meet the artist and obtain an autograph.

Now this is no love-sick teenager hoping to catch the eye of joe-no-talent-lip-syncing member of a boy band, with the end result being a hand she never washes or some article of clothing she loses to the stage.

No, this my friend, is a cause and goal for one reason and one reason alone. It's her quest for the words Wynona Judd scribbled and readable only to her. She imagines a giant "W" forever embedded on her guitar with a permanent sharpie all because of one thing and one thing alone.

We will rise at dawn, stake our claim to a place in line, and entertain ourselves all day while we traipse towards mordor. Today, the day before, holds hope. Tomorrow will be memorable even if we're 3 or 4 rows back and the sharpie lays idle in the guitar case.

The day after, we will have our photos and memories. We're a mother and daughter on a mission. All for the simple act of listening, singing along with, dancing and enjoying the concert of someone who is the antithesis of today's pop icons.

This concert will have what is lacking in most others, some call it a god-given gift, but extreme, drastic, ultra-fans like us would simply use the word, TALENT.

Somebody please get me a cigarette lighter.


Random Thoughts

"Every action of our lives touches on some chord that vibrates in eternity." ~ Edwin Hubbel Chapin

~ You can talk till you are blue in the face about global warming, it's not happening here
~ Want to know more about love, courage, and surviving Alzheimer's, read Elizabeth Cohen's Memoirs:
The Family on Beartown Road
~ Michael Moore should have been born in Iraq, Iran, Afghanistan, or better yet Ethiopia
~ With money I spent on Jeep repairs and a new lawn mower I could have bought 1/2 an iBook
~ I thought kids only mixed up their days and nights as newborns
~ The Lake Express is a big ass boat
~ Hypothetically speaking, one could lose weight by just comprehending and adhering to 3 small words on the
label: one serving equals
~ I'm going through Piston's withdrawal
~ My vain hope and prayer is that the words "unseasonably cold" will not be in our vocabulary come July and August
~ My serious and fervent prayer today is that Ang and Joel will not be sad for very long

Summer, Yes, Please

"It's interesting, your highness, that no matter what time of year it is there always seems to be weather...of some kind" ~ Portia Krelman

I've been working about 3 days a week now and so the journal, memoirs, trips to the beach, etc get pushed down the list. On a whim, and because we never hear from them, Melissa and I decided to head up to camp on Friday to see Ben and Jennifer. I didn't comprehend how little time they have for leisure (phone calls) and how hard they have been working. Springhill truly is a mission and they are the missionaries. Even rich, suburban, kids with a nonchalant mindset need to hear of God's love.

They both seemed to have the attitude, though, that they wouldn't trade this season in their life for another. Melissa and I haven't had much of chance to chat and we got that accomplished on the trip up there. She slept most of the way back. I took the back roads home and it was a beautiful, evening, sunset drive. Route B-72 is dotted with old and new barns, red brick churches, white clapboard corner buildings that were once one-room school houses, orchards, black and white Holsteins, and mares with their colts standing close by. I didn't see any pigs but I know we passed some.

The Lord of the Rings soundtrack seemed the only appropriate music for the trip. Although I did slip a little Josh Groan in after she fell asleep. Melissa seems to think that, according to your mood and surroundings, LOTR music should just play automatically in your soul. I tend to agree.

Bill, Happy birthday and God bless you as you celebrate your, what? 27th, 28th? It seems like just a few short years ago we celebrated with pin the tail on the donkey, etc. How about them Pistons?


Feels Good

First of all, because I haven't run out and purchased mosquito netting for every square inch of this house, I'm watching the game underneath a down comforter. I had a throw over me but they ate right through that. Second of all, I think when Ben Wallace jumps he sprouts wings and actually flies for a short time period. It's been a long time and I'm just waiting to go on line and get me a new t-shirt. I had a sleep shirt from their last championship that was retired to the sleep shirt hall of fame in the early 90's. And thirdly, could we get any more rain? Not only do we have a fountain in the front yard from the sump pump, but each cement block half-wall of the houses in the back are actually in the swimming/breeding pool stage right now. So yeah, all the pistons were firing tonight! Congratulations to my Ben, you've been waiting for this one for a long time. Finally! Wear it proudly!


Testing, Testing 1, 2

Trying to open another blog for my memoirs, and hoping I didn't mess this one up.

Yeah, Pistons!

I won't update the memoirs like I do my journal but I'm a glass is half full kinda gal so I'm gonna go out on a limb and say at the very least, once a month. Positive feedback only!

God Bless Us.....ALL

History never looks like history when you are living through it. ~ John W. Gardner

 I sit in my living room, alone and watch history unfold on my television screen.

I look around at my surroundings and my mind does a quick flashback. Jennifer and Melissa weren't even born when Ronald Reagan took office.

How could it all have changed so drastically in just a few short years? It seems we've lost a moral fiber that used to bind us all together.

I reminisce in my mind about other catastrophic events I have watched through TV eyes.

I remember sitting by myself in this very spot and watching sortie after sortie fly in and out of camera view when the gulf war started.

Late one summer night in 1997, I was flicking through the channels when I learned of Princess Diana's death.

Then again on that bright clear day in September 2001, I watched with horror in my heart as America lost thousands of it's own.

And yet, when someone says, "God Bless America" I want to shout yes and Africa, Brazil, Iran, Iraq, North Korea, and this whole planet that He created.

Why am I so complacent?

What important and valuable things did I do during the Reagan years? What have I done to make a difference in others and my lives since 9/11?

What will I do tomorrow? If we could all learn to live by 2 Chronicles 7:14 and I don't think the ancient writers were just speaking to US citizens when they wrote, "If my people, who are called by My name, will humble themselves and pray and seek My face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, will forgive their sin, and will heal their land."

Happy Birthday Jake


Parental Strategies

Melissa now has a decision to make.

 1) A computer chip surgically implanted in her brain, which beams parental messages that her heart is still beating and she is not being held against her will.

2) An electrical shock device that reminds her to call home.

3) A tether.

4) A curfew. Plain and simple. My sincere and deepest apologies to all the households we disturbed, she owes you one.


Sweet Melissa

When did it all start to go south for you?

Well, well, now that she's a senior, I've decided I must go to work on her scrapbooks and video montage.

But before I can justify hibernating upstairs for a whole weekend I unclog the bathroom drain, pay all the bills, and clean the party porch. I'm even thinking of mowing the lawn since Mark has been in such a troubling state lately with work. He has run his 4th or 5th different route in as many days.

Hang on, retirement is just around the corner and you have 7 weeks off this summer!! Last night Melissa and I went for a walk on one of her study breaks. We got glimpses of an awesome sunset between the trees down the new subdivision road. So yeah, the Topo's/Mexican-Street-Party lights are up on the porch and the coolest kid in the world still has a whole year and half to live at home with me.

Heaven, I'm in heaven.


They are not long, the days of wine and roses. ~ E. Dawson
~ School of any kind should be over before Memorial Day and not resume until AFTER Labor Day!
~ Housework when done correctly CAN kill you!

Went and loitered at the beach for 2 & 1/2 hours waiting for the 2nd trip of the Lake Express on it's maiden voyage day. Ne'er a sighting.

It's never a waste of time to go to the beach. Shoot though, I wanted to see it. Why do transportation methods intrigue me? Is it the lure of being taken away from the temporal? Or this place I call home? I don't believe so. I hope not, but I could just as easily jump on a fast boat to Milwaukee, as I could not.

Something is calling me. And yet something is holding me back. Anyway, for now, I will let my imagination travel. But I've never been to Milwaukee. I WILL HAVE to travel, by train, to New York for an extended stay to finish my novel. It is necessary research. Just a head's up.

Besides the never-ending tornado warnings, we did have a lovely weekend at the family farm. More hospitality without grumbling.

Ang and Joel were there and they are always a bundle of creativity, humor and inspiring energy to be around. Ang designed a back yard sanctuary including bistro table, flagstone pathways, lattice, arbors, and fast growing juniper trees (to block out neighbors). Of course, I will add white lights and a fire pit for long lazy summer evenings of nothing.

It was a bit strange to be at grandmas without kids in tow. The apartment dwellers, (Jake, Christie, and Tom) are safely tucked away on Winona Ave. Jen has called once from camp and reaffirmed in her mind and mine: when summer comes, she belongs at Springhill. I believe all will have a summer to remember and hopefully Melissa's will include some kind of job.

I must do the mundane now. The bathtub is clogged with something Drano doesn't recognize and that can't be good. Plumbing emergencies can bring you back to reality in a nano second.

And where the heck IS summer anyway?


Carousel Of Time

In creating, the only hard thing is to begin: a grass blade is no easier to make than an oak." ~ James Russell Lowell

The human mind (and soul) are complicated, to say the least. I have been trying to talk myself out of this funk for 1/2 year now. At first I blamed it on hormones, now, believe it or not, the latest culprit I have found to serve, as a basis for the blues, is creativity.

The keys on Jen's laptop have been smoking, sometimes before I even get down to the beach, I have to pull over to the side of the road to jot down a few ideas that have literally cannon-balled into my brain. Let's talk memoirs, and I use the term lightly, random memories have been forging their way onto hard disc space and I can't seem to type fast enough.

Still, as always, I find when I "have" to work, I can't do all the things I desire and at the same time accomplish all the things I "must," in a timely and acceptable fashion. I guess Saint Paul said it best in Romans 7:15, "I do not understand the things I do. I do not do what I want to do, and I do the things I don't want to do."

We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game