Update on Fritzy. He had another seizure, so I decided it was time to talk turkey with the vet. She agreed that it is time to do something, so he’s on meds now. Other than having his blood levels checked once in a while, if it works and with no harmful effects to his liver, he can just get back to being his joyful little frisky Fritzy self. ‘Cause if you’re a little Fritzy, happy is the only way to fly!
It is waaaay past Sandwich Week, and where have I been? I couldn’t say except we’re in constant motion, like hamsters in a wheel. It’s a fun and scenic wheel, squeaky, and with lots of people and things to see and experience, but still a wheel. I am NOT complaining. I’m supremely thankful for my wheel, but I’d be ok if it slowed down just a tad once in a while!
Speaking of dogs … ok, I was speaking of hamsters, but stay with me. My little dog Fritz suffered a few seizures lately, three that I’m aware of. Vet says he has probably developed epilepsy but it’s not time to medicate just yet. Over the course of the same last few months Fritzy also began doing something else a little odd, as if seizures aren’t odd enough. When Johnny travels and the kids are in school, when I’m at work and only the dogs are home, Fritz will spend the day in my oldest son’s room. Or at least part of the day. This is not a room he normally sleeps in when we’re all home, and frankly, he doesn’t spend too much time upstairs. But when ALL of us are gone, he goes upstairs to Alex’s room. He must miss Alex the most.
The oddest part is he goes into Alex’s room and then closes the door behind him. Always. Alex has senior out, and so is always the first one home. He calls me at work to say that Fritz has locked himself up again. What Fritz does in there is anybody’s guess, probably just sleeps, but he is always so happy to see Alex after school! Alex swears he doesn’t have candy anywhere, and Fritz doesn’t destroy anything. He just hangs out in his big boy’s room. Maybe he imagines he’s one of the guys, just part of the band, salivating at the guitars, but never on them. Strutting around listening to music, doing pull-ups, checking out the trash can, sniffing t-shirts and socks, all the things teenage boys like to do. Why does he close the door? Well, silly … privacy, of course!
Don’t worry Fritzy. You’ll always be a part of our gang!
It’s the “sandwich” week. The week between Christmas and the New Year, a time to reflect on the past year, to hope for the future, to write resolutions for breaking. Or, for some people it just means a week of eating an endless supply of leftover turkey or ham sandwiches and packing up the decorations. For most of us, it’s a little of all of those things.
We roasted leg of lamb this year for Christmas, and did not cook enough for leftover lambwiches, not really. I’ve never heard of such a thing, but I’m sure someone somewhere must have concocted a lamb, mashed potato, and mint jelly-wich, much like the turkey, dressing and cranberry-wich we prepare sometimes shortly after Thanksgiving. Johnny loves lamb, and I’ve grown to like it, but I never would have eaten lamb if I hadn’t married Johnny. Most native Texans just aren’t accustomed to eating lamb. My son’s girlfriend sent him a picture of an adorable little lamb, you know, prior to roasting and presumably very much alive with fuzzy wool and limbs still in tact. This after he told her what was for Christmas dinner. This is what you’re eating, she texted. B-a-a-a-a-a. I almost felt guilty. Almost. Somewhere in between bites maybe.
It was a wonderful Christmas spent with our families, with Johnny’s parents, and then with mine – days to treasure. Of all things, here in Texas it has snowed twice since I posted “Snowy Blog.” It snowed on Christmas Eve (which hasn’t happened since 1920 something in Dallas), and snowed again today. It will all melt tomorrow, and that’s the way I like it!
I’m not sure I’m ready for the changes 2010 will bring, but as I have little choice in the matter, I’ll keep putting one foot in front of the other. I hope everyone has a Happy New Year!
We had snow today in Texas! For about 2 hours, big fluffy white flakes fell and clung to the grass … but then it rained and was gone. Sad that it’s already gone, but in honor of our first snow of the season (I think more could be coming in a day or so) … I’ve added snow to my blog.
So, don’t bother checking your eyesight. There really are little white snowflakes falling on my blog. Brrrr … makes me want to drink hot chocolate and sit by the fire.
… and I heard a little voice inside my head. It said, “Smoke a turkey, and they will come.” Or, something to that effect. Then my sister heard a similar voice. It said, “Honey, bake a ham, and go forth to your sister’s house.” My parents heard a voice also. It said, “Drive due east for a Thanksgiving Feast.” … and all of us did those very things, and it was good.
So, sixteen people from near and far gathered with love and gave thanks. Thanks for having the good fortune to be in this family, thanks for the multitude of blessings we enjoy every day, and thanks for being able to meet in the same place at the same time which hasn’t happened in a long, long time.
It was truly an awesome moment in time to look around the circle and see everyone holding hands. We had a new family member, too.
This is sweet little Aniston, and her upside down cheerleader doll. Her upside down funny little cheerleader doll that said, “Howdy Doo, we are here to cheer for you! Yee Haw! Whoo Hoo!” It was hysterical! However, if I was her mom and lived daily with said little cheerleader doll, I think I might just run out of batteries for long periods of time …
Speaking of funny voices, my voice decided to be funny and take a vacation. The first time I have seen all of these people together in one place in years, and I’m croaking out my hello’s and how are you’s. I suppose some might have seen my inability to talk as a blessing, a little something extra to be thankful for, but don’t even go there, family members … I was not amused!
A little dining action below.
Johnny & Alex with Mom …
My sister’s kids, Robin & Ryan …
Robin is Aniston’s grandmother, which makes Ryan Aniston’s great uncle. Of course, I remember these two when they were just little squirts, and now they are somebody’s grandmother and great uncle. How did this happen? Ok, I know how it happened, but you know what I mean.
Below, Aniston with her mom, Chelsea. Chelsea is Robin’s daughter. There’s Grandpa Don in the background, although he is actually Aniston’s great grandpa … and he would probably say that there’s not a greater grandpa than he. He and my dad might have to work that one out.
Great picture of my dad and my sister Pam …
Below Daddy is sharing some manly secret with Joshua (Robin’s son, Chelsea’s brother). Josh’s girlfriend Lindsey also came (in a group picture above), but I didn’t get the chance to visit with her in all the feasting and catching up. I do hope she had a good time, though.
Robin also brought her friend, Randy. Randy is a cool guy and seemed to fit right in. They are planning to get married, so guess that makes them more than just friends. At any rate, we should be getting to know Randy even better in the future. That is, if we didn’t scare the hell out of him!
My sister, Pam, and her husband, Don.
… and of course, Johnny and me.
& our kids … and our own grandpuppy, Bear. (Aunt Zoe & Uncle Fritz had other obligations and just couldn’t make it to the photo shoot.)
Turns out Bear is a lucky little fella. Last Tuesday he ran into the street and was hit by a truck. He had to have minor surgery, but all he lost were a couple of toenails. Poor little guy is hobbling around now, and he was quite the pampered pooch over Thanksgiving. He didn’t get to slobber over turkey, but he’s just thankful he can slobber at all! (and so are we!)
That’s all she wrote.
Thanks. This week is all about the thanks. I’m a lucky person, and have much to be thankful for. Every day I read about others’ hardships and know that my blessings are so many. For starters, I’m thankful for my husband, my children, our families and friends, the health of those that I love, my puppies (and all the puppies I’ve ever loved!), my home, my job (sort of …) ok yes, my job, too.
I’m thankful for freedom, the wonderful country we live in, and for those who have in the past or who are currently securing our freedom, and the sacrifices they make in doing so. With all of it’s flaws, I’m still thankful to be in the U.S. of A. I’m thankful for the beauty that surrounds us all every day, and which I fail to see most of the time. It’s times like this that make me stop and take notice.
I’m thankful for the turkey that will feed my family this Thanksgiving. I’m thankful for Red, Hot & Blue and the employees that will dutifully smoke said sacrificial turkey to perfection so that I don’t have to pretend I know how to cook such a big bird. I cannot dwell on the poor turkey’s demise, for I do not feel good about that, but I must move forward with my turkey plan lest we all be forced to eat tofurkey for Thanksgiving. In case you’re wondering, tofurkey is real … sort of. Real pretend turkey.
Yeah, don’t forget the gravy. … and don’t be looking for those giblets!
Another thing I am thankful for – I’m thankful I will not be eating tofurkey this Thanksgiving!
I wish everyone a wonderful Thanksgiving!
18. When you turn 18, you are an adult. According to the U.S. Department of State, when you turn 18, you “can join the military, receive medical care, get married, and receive a number of other adult privileges and responsibilities without parental consent.” It amazes me that when the clock strikes midnight on your 18th birthday you can make all manner of life-changing decisions that you couldn’t make the day before. At least in this state you can get married, register to vote, sign a lease, join the military and fight a war. Just don’t try to buy a beer. Not that I want my kids to drink at 18, but it does seem a little off-kilter to me.
… we won’t get into what I was doing when I was 18! Of course, it was legal then!
That brings me to Alex’s birthday. Alex just turned 18 a little while ago. His birthday was on a Saturday this year. Unable to join us later in the day, Alex’s girlfriend came over reeeeeeally early in the morning and decorated his car and brought him breakfast. Wow, pretty nice girlfriend, huh?
Later that afternoon, he opened his presents.
Uh … thank you for my guitar, Daniel. Isn’t it already my guitar? Yes, it is. But you’re mighty thoughtful to give it to me again.
We’re strange like that. Giving the birthday celebratee (new word alert) things that already belong to him or her, or maybe instead a can of cheez whiz, you know, something really useful.
Don’t remember the joke here, but it must have been good. Let’s move on to dinner …
I say, these are not my siblings. The big guy on my right, definitely not my sister. Just where is my curly-headed brother???
The straight-haired one is the new and different Daniel, or some kid that looks a lot like Daniel save the straight hair and the devilish eyes. Sara couldn’t make it in for Alex’s birthday dinner, but Alex’s friend Tyler was happy to fill in.
We went to a place called Asahi’s, a Japanese establishment in our little town. We had calamari and edamame to start. Well, most of us had calamari, only two of us had edameme (the soybeans … I ate them but had to ask Johnny what they were). Actually yummy, a little salty and soybean-y, if you like that sort of thing. Turns out teenage boys don’t. What a surprise. 
The fun thing about these kinds of restaurants is the atmosphere and the preparation of the food. The term, and I just looked this up, is Teppenyaki. We sat at a Teppenyaki table while a knife-wielding flame-throwing chef prepared our food right before us. Above, the fried rice. Below, our chef, cooking up a little shrimp & chicken …
Turns out teenage boys do like shrimp and chicken and steak and lobster – you know – MEAT. Which we had plenty of. So much lobster in fact, well, for Daniel’s sake I won’t go there …
… and speaking of sake (teehee), Johnny & I had some of that, too … but not Alex nor Tyler, our 18-year olds in tow. Though, I think they would think it icky anyway.
Happy Birthday, my little Alex!
No sake for you, but here’s your birthday song …
Happii baasudei tu yu
Happii baasudei tu yu
Happii baasudei tu A-wex
Happii baasudei tu yu
This according to WikiAnswers, the expert on Japanese English.
Smile, Johnny! He has that oh she’s taking pictures again look.
Birthdays always seem to last several days. You just can’t get it done all in the same day. Because we were too full, we had to continue the party the next day so we could eat the birthday cake so artfully prepared by moi.
One more time now …
Happy 18th birthday to our sweet wittle Awex!
I visited my hometown a while ago. This place has been a part of my heart my entire life. It’s where I grew up, where my parents still live, where I formed friendships that still exist. While home is with my husband and kids, Midland is still my home also. I have heard it maligned from the moment I moved away, but all you people who have bad-mouthed Midland, you must never have lived there, and you just don’t get it. … and I don’t know where the name Mudville came from to refer to Midland (I’ve always heard it) because, trust me, for 364 days out of 365, you will not find any mud in Midland. That would require rain, of course.
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. See for yourself:
There is nothing like the clear blue skies and the wide open spaces in West Texas except, of course, when a red dust storm blows through. That’s a different kind of beauty entirely, and there’s nothing quite like that either.
I once traveled back to Midland after living in Dallas for a while and, upon approaching Midland, stopped at a rest stop and got out of my car just to take in the view and a deep breath. Just me sitting on a picnic table, not another person in sight. I could see the Midland skyline from 30 miles away and the only sound I could hear was the wind and a car or two passing by. Miles and miles of just more miles. I think I get claustrophobic in the city after a while, and a trip out to Midland is a little like being set free.
Here’s looking out of the airport window:
Yep, it’s flat as a fritter. If a bird flies, you will see it. If a storm is coming, you will see it. If anything at all is coming, you will see it unless you are blind. No inconsiderate trees, pesky hills or anything else to mar your view. Sometimes I reeeeeally like it that way.
Another reason I keep going back, the best Mexican fast-food joint on the planet is in Midland, Texas. Taco Villa even has its own Facebook group called “I miss you Taco Villa” for those of us who grew up with Taco Villa’s special brand of taco burgers, guadalajaras, bean burrito milds, hot sauce that can burn the taste buds off of your tongue, and are now forced to live without those things. Let me tell you friends, it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Definitely applies here.
A trip to Taco Villa isn’t just a treat for me when I visit, it’s a requirement. Depending on the length of my stay, sometimes two trips to Taco Villa are required (a 3-day visit is a 2-trip Taco Villa must). My parents cheerfully oblige me this little idiosyncrasy. Here I am in front of the Taco Villa just to prove I was there:
I really must buy another outfit. This one is in way too many pictures!
We also went to the beautiful Museum of the Southwest for a Sunday night concert with some friends. We took a little wine and some snacks. A classic rock-n-roll band was playing, don’t remember their name, but they were awesome!
Here are a couple of my parents’ best friends (ok, they’re my friends, too!):
Here’s an outdoor sculpture. Several more are on the grounds.
By far, the two best and most important reasons I keep going back, and why I call this place my home:
My most beautiful Momma & Daddy.
The picture is yellowed now. This is my best friend, Susan. I think we met at Walgreens. It’s been so long ago, I really don’t remember the moment we met, but it was around that time. I was 16 when I began working at Walgreens, and quickly befriended this energetic whirlwind kind of a girl. She was pretty, naturally blonde, petite, athletic, but perhaps my mother described her best. Susan was striking, the kind of person others would turn around and take in a second or third look as she passed by. She was smart, had a quick wit, a wicked sense of humor, and was the most “can do” but mostly “already did” person I ever knew. In a very short time, we became the best of friends.
We “clicked” in the way that best friends do. We were both a little crazy, I suppose. Ok, I was a little crazy, and (I’m sure she’d love me for this) she was a lot crazy. I mean this in only the best of ways. We had so much fun together, more than the law allowed … seriously. When I think of Susan, I see her flying down the escalator after she got off work from Walgreens, wearing her ultra-cool hiking boots. Boots that I coveted because they looked so cool on her, boots that meant adventure and excitement. Boots that made my feet look like giant logs, but for Susan were just an extension of her adventure-seeking self. Her adventure-seeking small-footed self.
I see her driving in her little brown Chevy Chevelle with ”Susie” painted on the fender rounding a left turn at 40 mph, the passenger door suddenly swinging wide because it couldn’t shut completely … with me beside her wondering whether to hang on to her or grab the door. … and this was before we all wore seatbelts! She’d come to visit me when I worked in a lonely little office, her engine announcing her arrival long before she even got close, her muffler shot, or maybe she didn’t even have one. I loved that car!
One morning I woke to her phone call. A murder in the ol’ home town the night before, so we were a little freaked out and decided to spend the whole day together. I went to her house and helped her with her chores (she always had a ton of chores). Carrying a basket of wet clothes under one arm, and a butcher knife in her free hand, we marched outside to hang the clothes on the line. No one, but no one, would be messing with us that day.
I can hear her singing, she had an amazing talent for songs and lyrics. She could sing all the words to all the Billy Joel songs, and I tried hard to keep up. You know how many words Billy can pack into just one song? Later on, she preferred Madonna and Sammy Hagar and was a fan of heavy metal before it was truly heavy metal’s time. She was a trend-setter, an adventurer, a cool fashionista.
For a long time she worked for an aviation company. She would look up in the clear Midland sky as one might birdwatch (except without binoculars), and she’d say, “That’s a Piper or a Cessna yadda yadda yadda with a yadda yadda yadda whatever engine.” You can see how well I know my airplanes. She spoke the lingo, was friends with all the pilots.
Once Susan took me horseback riding. Let’s put it this way, it didn’t go well. She said she knew I was in trouble when she saw sky between me and the saddle. I was not a natural, and the horse knew it. That calculating SOB! He played nice for a while, then galloped towards a barbed wire fence and pitched me just short of it. Blood everywhere, she insisted I was fine, it was just a little cut. She wrapped my head, loaded me in the car, and raced to the hospital to get stitches.
Susan married early (I was in her wedding), and I stayed single a while longer. She and her husband lived in Dallas for a while, but moved back to Midland. Then I ended up in Dallas, but we still visited each other. We’d go out and party, and then come home and talk all night long. One night we talked until 6:00 a.m. When the sun came up, we suddenly realized we’d been up all night, made a big deal about how bright it was, put on our sunglasses and went to sleep. Upon discovering us all askew on the bed in our skivvies and our sunglasses a few hours later, my friend and roomie, Nancy, declared us NUTS! I suppose that was obvious …
Even during this time when we lived in different places, we spoke on the phone almost every day, each conversation lasting sometimes an hour or more. I doubt there was much we didn’t discuss at some point. … and then she was a bridesmaid in my wedding.
She divorced shortly after I got married, then remarried a few years later and moved to Alabama where she had 3 children. I had 3 children also. Both of our lives became busy, complicated. Our visits by this time were periodic and strictly by telephone. In one of our conversations, I remember telling her about my awake dreams (hallucinations, almost) when I was pregnant with Daniel. She was so concerned and curious, and begged me to ask my doctor what was the deal (the dreams had to do with spiders, you don’t want to know …).
We also discovered that we drove almost identical kid-proof vehicles, her’s a Nissan Quest, mine a Mercury Villager (which if you don’t know were essentially the same vehicle, made in the same factories). Yes, the girls of “Too Cool” actually did drive mini-vans once, but oh please don’t tell anyone! We talked about our kids, our husbands, our churches, and each other. Church was the one thing we had not discussed much when we were younger. We discussed our beliefs, but not organized religion. She discovered church in Alabama, and would occasionally tell me about a particular sermon or a lesson, or even about something she’d seen on TV. She told me of ironing her kids’ clothes every Saturday night for church, and how someone had told her she should join the choir. Obviously, that person had heard her sing!
We were “The Suz.” My middle name is Sue, so we came up with this brilliant moniker one night, probably over multiple Coronas. When we were together, she made me feel as if she was right where she wanted to be, with the person she wanted to be with, and everything else could just wait. I can feel her sitting next to me just like the countless nights we sat whispering in each other’s ear at some bar while the music was blaring and everyone else was dancing. It always took us hours to catch up and say all we wanted to say to each other, but eventually, we’d dance.
I have a million memories of this girl, and I love her. She’s been in my heart and on my mind continually this past week because I just learned last Saturday that she died three years ago of cancer (three years to the day, in fact). Her sister tells me she went out in Susan-fashion, not angry nor asking ”why me.” Understandably worried about her family, with her Bible sometimes in tow, she bravely coped knowing she wouldn’t see her kids graduate from high school or grow old with her husband. So much like I remember her, no self-pity allowed.
How we lost touch so completely that we didn’t speak in over 10 years, I don’t know. It happened, and I didn’t get to say all I wanted to say to her. In the words of James Taylor, I always thought I’d see her again.
Want to see a cute puppy? Well, you’re in luck. Here is the newest addition to the clan, our new little grandpuppy. I wanted to post a few pictures of him before he turns into a monster grandpuppy. His name is Bear, no explanation necessary. Here he is at 6 weeks:
With his mommy:
Now, here he is at 12 weeks looking so much more mature:
… but looks don’t tell the story!
Again, with his mommy:
I’ll do an update next time I see him, which should be around Thanksgiving.
Sara and Bear spent a weekend with us recently. It was a workout for Sara (puppy training, you know), and a workout for Zoe & Fritz, too. They were not sure what to think of this little guy and, of course, tried to show him just who was in charge. Well, they’d better enjoy that large and in charge feeling while they can, as he will outweigh both of them (combined) in a matter of months. He’s a pretty tough little guy!
Isn’t he a sweetie?
