GB#7--Cassandra Eve

Daddy's little girl

meet Cassandra Eve
her first hairdo

and first yawn . . .

Christmas 2009 in brief

things to be happy about: a Yuletide addendum

76. having seven vehicles parked in the drive and on the lawn
77. not being the only heart beating under your roof at night
78. having your granddaughter ask to borrow your clothes
79. having more mouths to feed than settings of silverware or china
80. spending all day in the kitchen and not even minding
81. spending days cleaning the house in preparation for utter chaos (and is it ever!)
82. losing everything except your mind!
83. relearning that Goo-Gone gets butter and bacon splatters out of the clothes you knew you shouldn't have worn to cook in

84. walking the dam with your granddaughter on a wintry afternoon
85. simple gifts--your daughter's PhotoStory video of shared summer memories or your no wrapping paper needed goody boxes or your mother's four pineapple upsidedown cakes--bringing simple pleasures to all

Christmas 2009 Facebook album--click and enjoy

elves

Jack taking notes for Santa (Michael and Cassie have been pretty good today :-)




Kira and Pixie preparing breakfast



Ryder riding high on Garrett's new bunk bed

are u ready for Santa???

I guess not many of us would choose to take a cool and cloudy Christmas Eve walk across a dam . . . One of the zillion and one white-headed old guys who walk that dam, thinking, I've always assumed, that this will make a meaningful difference in their lives, stopped in front of me today.

The conversation (if you can call it a conversation) went like this:
He: Are you ready for Santa?
Me: Yes, are you?
He: Christmas is a day just like any other . . .

I didn't miss a step . . . kept right on walking . . .

Don't mess with Christmas, not with me!

The "Yes, Virginia" letter speaks to and from my soul, as it always has.

Santa is the worldly embodiment of unconditional love, of hope beyond reason--and of these offerings of self being returned in kind.

Christmas is synonymous with "believe".

Christmas is the time of year I can be myself and not seem a fool.

For those who are unable to recognize or embrace unconditional love, who feel compelled to question hope beyond reason--for those who are slow to belive what they cannot know or see . . . this is my wish. May each of your days be Christmas Day. . .

goody boxes . . . or simple pleasures reprise

When we were struggling to provide our young family with the basics, my mother would often gift us with "goody boxes"--school supplies, candy, the simple frills of everyday life. They meant a lot, those gifts of hers . . .





This Christmas, in an effort (in vain, but an effort nonetheless) to return to the simpler Christmases of yore, I announced that I would be giving family members "goody boxes" this year in lieu of big ticket items. And I am . . .




I especially have enjoyed finding just the right box, or bag--most with uses beyond the temporary holding of a gift--for each recipient. No wrapping paper or bows or even tags needed . . . just the occasional sheet of tissue to shield contents from inquisitive young eyes or to pad empty spaces, buffer fragile items . . . The contents? Not all that different from other years except that thinking in terms of many just right simple items rather than one impressive one was more like the Christmas in my memory--my childhood, those of my children . . .




goody boxes . . . I'm smiling . . .

once upon a time . . . or not?

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see

All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to be free
Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night
Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly

All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

geocaching reprise

Several years ago I posted a picture of five grandbabies proudly displaying the cache they had discovered on a poison-ivy-carpeted island in the middle of a lake. Today--another summer, another lake, another state away from that moment in time--the two youngest of the now seven (and therefore "closest to the ground" :-)--were the finders of the "treasure."

Our first geocache--under a weeping hemlock tree in Fritz's garden on a community college campus--eluded us. Too many muggles perhaps?




But even the little ones were not deterred by this setback. On to the next treasure hunt. Of course, while we ladies, young and old, were making a necessary stop at the dam welcome center, the gentlemen, young and old, were in pursuit of the treasure. Just as we closed in on them we heard the cry go up. Michael, age 5, had found his first ever geocache!



Our last geocaching stop for today was at a waterfall. Unfortunately for us--or so it seemed--the treasure hidden here would also be an elusive one. Ropes, signs, and a determined lady ranger barred our way . . . or so we thought. Cassie, not quite three and therefore closest of us all to the ground, wandered away as we strained to see under the shrubs just beyond the rope barrier . . . and happened her way, much to her surprise and momentary embarassment, into the cache's new location.






A lovely way to while away a summer morning . . . making memories to keep :-)

old glass and new blossoms

to be happy about :-)