This is a Test. This is Only a Test.

I am expanding my horizons and trying new things. Isn't that what a person is supposed to do to stay young? Well, I seriously doubt that trying new things is equal to the Fountain of Youth, but it is fun for me to dabble in something before untried. Keeps the cobwebs of the mind from forming.

I see on many blogs that I read regularly that videos in one form or another are included. Usually it is You Tube, but I decided to try out some of the software that came with my computer. These should be playable on Windows Media Player, which comes with most computers. The titles are added with Windows Movie Maker which also came with my computer. If anyone wants a copy, I can probably email it to you.

Quite some time back David emailed me a video of Boston, and Jill did the same with a couple of videos of Zach. I used these to do this test, and if it works, not only will I be hounding you all for photos, I will add videos to my wish list. Be prepared!

Christmas Past

The "secret" surprises for my grandkids mentioned in the last post are finally finished. I was moaning and groaning to Jill just last week that I had my doubts that I would finish on time, and was afraid that I would have to take her suggestion to give them to the kids next year. But this morning I finished. Picture Mom doing a Happy Dance around the kitchen table. Or not. Kind of a scary thought.

While working on these surprises, I had lots of time to think, and my thoughts turned to Christmas Seasons past. My Mother was big on Christmas and tradition. Every available space was decorated for the holiday. She made cookies weeks ahead and froze them. I especially loved the Candy Cane Cookies that were made with twisted ropes of red and white dough and topped with crushed peppermint candy. Back when she could still use her hands, she was good at coming up with some new crafty idea for decorating. One year she made a wreath out of white feathers, adorned with small red shiny ornaments. Another year she used embroidery hoops, ribbon and shiny rope beads to fashion a "Kissing Ball" that held a sprig of mistletoe. Those that saw this liked it so much that she wound up making several for friends and family.

We always had a real Christmas tree decorated with ornaments that my parents had collected over the years, lights that were the old fashioned big bulbs that, when one burned out the whole string went dark, and as much tinsel as the tree would hold. Mom would put what looked like quilt batting around the bottom covering the tree stand, to look like snow. And Dad would always remark that the tree was the best one we ever had, no matter how sorry it might look.

I should have said that we almost always had a real tree. One year in the late 1950's, Dad came home with a "modern" Christmas tree. This thing was similar to the artificial trees that most of us have now, except that it was made of some sort of shiny silver material. Looked like an explosion in a tin foil factory. Dad loved it, but I believe we only used it that one year. Mom made him go get a real tree the following Christmas, and the silver tree was banished to the back of a closet before finding it's way to the dump.

My parent's two little girls started to pester them about three in the afternoon to have supper so we could open presents. To our chagrin, supper was at the regular hour of 6 PM. Mom had her tradition there as well. She made a big pot of chili for us and a pot of oyster stew for Dad. He loved oyster stew, but he only had it on Christmas Eve and maybe on New Years Eve. Life was such that the rest of the year meals were made that all would eat, as the wasting of food on children who would not touch the stuff was not to be, especially in times when money was tight. This was most of the time. So Dad would sit and enjoy his stew and eat slowly, savoring each bite, while we girls inhaled our meal and impatiently waited for Dad to finish his meal.

After the dishes were washed, dried and put away, our little family gathered in the living room around the tree. Dad would always get his Bible and read the story of Christ's birth to us. In later years, when we girls could read well, he would ask one of us to read the Christmas story. I always felt honored to be asked, as this was an important part of our Christmas tradition.

While I have been taking this journey back in time in my mind, it occurred to me that I couldn't recall many of the gifts I received at Christmas. A few were remembered, like a Cinderella wrist watch one year and ice skates another. In the photo below I am holding the last doll I ever received as a child. She was a "walking" doll, as I recall, and when you held her upright on the floor and moved her forward, she would move her legs to walk. I think this was my last doll because I just wasn't all that interested in dolls or playing house. That was more Libby's thing. I was more interested in playing softball or going ice skating or spending time reading.

http://www.4shared.com/file/76988665/c899a30b/Christmas_Past.html

I think that my inability to remember Christmas gifts I received as a child is not due to my fading memory that comes with age. I believe that it is because the presents weren't the important thing about Christmas. Our parents instilled in us that Christmas was about the birth of the Christ child, about the importance of family and about loving one another.

So the things I remember most are the smells of a ham and pies baking in the oven on Christmas Day, the decorating of a tree that was "the best one ever," of time spent with much loved relatives and the joy and laughter that always was present on Christmas Day with Ronnie and Em and their family. I remember Mom's passion for decorating the house, Dad's oyster stew and his "World Famous Peanut Brittle" that he made every year. There was always a Christmas program at church and we memorized a "piece" to recite during the program. Afterward we were rewarded for our performance with a small bag of Christmas candy for each child. These memories are better than any wrapped gift that money could buy, as I can take them out whenever I want to and look at them and remember a time of happiness and contentment.

Busted

I haven't abandoned this blog. I just have been very busy. Business at the dog grooming shop where I work is booming. It seems that family Christmas pictures include the family pets, and many of our clients want Fido looking good for the occasion, which means longer hours and fewer days off. I am not complaining, mind you. We thought because of the current economic situation that business would be slow, but that just hasn't happened. I am grateful for having a job that continues to be busy. We will require no government bailout. We are making it on our own just fine.

I also started a project that needs to be finished by Christmas. When I first began this project (which will remain secret until Christmas) I thought, "What a neat idea." Lately, my thoughts have been, "What was I thinking." But there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and I may actually finish on time. But this project leaves no time for blogging. It isn't the blog itself that takes time. It is preparing the photos, writing the stories and all of the other things needed for a blog entry that take so much time. There is light at the end of this tunnel as well. I shall have one wonderful, glorious week off after Christmas and will be able to do several entries then. I promise. I have a backlog of photos just waiting to be digitally scrapped and I am looking forward to having the time to play with them soon.

In the meantime, I received in my email box this wonderful photo of Jacob playing with his new found water toy. Of course, he was busted in the act, and the look on his face is priceless. I just couldn't resist sharing this with you.

http://www.4shared.com/file/76687479/7285a88c/Busted.html

Merry Christmas to you all.

Summer Remembered

Over the last couple of months I have received photos of my grandchildren, showing me some of the things they have done over the summer and into early fall. I so enjoy these photos, as through them I can see what is going on in their lives.

Chris and Nicki both played ball this summer. Nicki's softball team received a third place trophy in their tournament, and Chris's team won their championship. Way to go! Both of my oldest grandchildren are good athletes and enjoy various sports activities. They have fun playing, too, and that is the way it should be. I recall how much fun it was for me to play on my 4-H softball team. I wasn't very good at it, but it sure was fun, and I am glad that the kids have a good time.

There were a couple of "firsts" lately. Boston lost her first tooth. She called me to tell me all about it, and assured me that the tooth fairy did indeed pay her a visit. Jacob, who is growing by leaps and bounds, had his first big boy haircut. His dad reports that he didn't shed a single tear, but watched with fascination the whole process.

The rest of these pages are of various things the kids did over the summer. They look like they are having so much fun. I believe that the summer months should be enjoyed as much as possible, especially if you are a kid. Some of my fondest memories of when I was a child are of the things my family did on warm summer days. There were picnics, camping by a lake, fishing day trips and just enjoying the outdoors when we lived on the farm. Summers are for kids, and I am glad to see that my grandchildren make the most of them.

http://www.4shared.com/file/68552327/384a5aa5/Summer_Remembered.html

Family Picnic

Those of you who regularly read this blog are aware that I often bemoan the fact that life has changed considerably since my youth. Yes, I am one of those who long for the more simple life of "the good old days." I don't necessarily wish to wash clothes in a tin tub with a washboard, or cook a mastodon for dinner over an open fire, but I really do miss the pleasures of a less frantic lifestyle.

Well, this summer, my children brought back one of the things that I was missing. The family picnic by the lake. We got together in late June, feeling a need to be together as a family after Mike's death. As I watched my grandchildren swim and play in the sand, I couldn't help but think of how Mike would have enjoyed that day. He always loved time spent with the kids and grandkids.

We met again on a beautiful sunny, breezy Saturday afternoon in late August. After several emails back and forth, it was decided who would bring what. We had burgers on the grill, potato and fruit salads, veggies, brownies, and a cooler full of sodas and water for all. Food fit for a king. And it always seems to taste better in the outdoors near the water.

The day was made even more special with the arrival of Kelly and Jackie. They drove down from Bemidji just for the day. Kelly had told me some time ago that he would love to get together with all of my kids, as it had been a long time since he had seen them, so I let him know about our picnic. It was so good to be able to spend time with him and Jackie. The fact that they would drive that distance just to spend an afternoon with us is amazing to me. They brought with them some family photos that we all enjoyed looking at. Some were of Emily's wedding. She has grown into a beautiful young woman.

The adults talked, laughed and remembered times past. We got caught up on what everyone had been doing lately. Jackie had met Jeri when she and Kelly came to see me in June, but she had not met the rest of my family. I teased that she was a brave woman to voluntarily come into the middle of this crew! She is such a sweet lady and she makes my brother happy. I just love her to pieces.

The kids went swimming, dug holes and built things in the sand, and brought us a giant grasshopper to look at. They fed a family of ducks who were waddling along the beach, looking for a handout. They did cartwheels and handstands, showing off their gymnastic abilities. They are so very busy.

I used to think that it would be so nice to have the energy of my grandkids. I don't think that way anymore. I have reached the age of understanding that if I had their energy, chances are real good that I would just hurt myself. So now I settle for watching them and enjoying them.

http://www.4shared.com/file/67781153/224766a8/Family_Picnic_2.html

Late in the day, Kelly and Jackie had to leave for their long trip back home. I wonder if they know just how much it meant to me to have them share the day with us. Since the deaths of our parents, my brother and I tend to value our time together more than we have. I have always enjoyed spending time with Kelly, but I find that our time together now makes my heart glad.

I am so pleased that my children want to take the time to do things like a family picnic. I understand how busy their lives are, what with jobs and children and other obligations. I think that they understand how much these times mean to me. We have discovered in the last year just how important family is to us all, and I treasure these times. The fact that a family picnic takes me back to simple pleasures in simpler times is just a bonus.

This last picture is of a picnic by the lake over 50 years ago. Often in the summertime, my family would go to the park at Big Kandy Lake for a Sunday afternoon picnic with Ronnie and Em. On this occasion, Ronnie's sister, Margene and her parents, Myrtle and Lawrence Lindblad were there. Margene is at the far left, next to Em and Ronnie, and Lawrence is sitting next to Dad.

http://www.4shared.com/file/67476309/2572725b/Family_Picnic.html

At those family picnics, we brought sandwiches to eat, along with Mom's potato salad and deviled eggs, and Em's delicious crisp home canned dill pickles. There usually were tomatoes and cucumbers from the garden, and someone nearly always brought a big watermelon. There was always a big jug of lemonade with slices of real lemon floating in it.

The kids would play tag or hide and seek among the large trees at the park, and would go swimming, while the adults talked and laughed. I remember that whenever we were with Ronnie and Em, there was always laughter. Lots of laughter.

Thank you, my children, for giving me a day like those days I so fondly remember from my childhood.

Grand-puppy

Every grandparent should have a Grand-puppy. They are fun, like Grandchildren, but without the daily responsibilities. My Grand-puppy is Charlie.

I remember when David first got Charlie for Staci. He was no bigger than a minute. Mike and I puppy-sat on several occasions when he was small. We firmly believed that he had invisible springs attached to the bottoms of his paws, as he seemed to bounce wherever he went. He thought the cats were his own personal play-toys. Chuck the cat finally got smart and would sit on a surface just high enough so Charlie couldn't reach him. Then, whenever Charlie would bounce by, Chuck would swat him in the head from his elevated perch. Charlie, rather than getting angry at being swatted, thought that this game was marvelous fun, and would bounce by time after time so Chuck could swat him.

The last time Charlie stayed with Mike and me, Mike had a bit of an adventure with Charlie and our two dogs, Buster and Rose. Mike decided he would try to walk all three dogs at the same time to save having to go up and down the stairs so many times. He hooked all three up to their leashes, and off they went. About fifteen minutes later, I heard a commotion outside our apartment door. There were dogs barking and Mike swearing. When I opened the door, there stood Mike with a couple of leashes wrapped around his legs and three overly excited dogs. "Help me untangle this mess," he said as he stumbled into the kitchen. I got the door closed behind them, and then dissolved into gales of laughter. Couldn't do anything but laugh. Mike had his angry face on, but at the sight of me helpless with laughter, he soon started grinning, too. As soon as I could stop laughing long enough, I unhooked the dogs from their leashes, and Mike extricated himself from the tangled mess. "I think I'll walk them one at a time from now on," he said. That worked out a bit better.

Charlie came to stay with me for a few days this summer while David and Staci were out of town. By that time, Buster and Rose had gone to their new home, so it was just Charlie, Noodle the cat and me. Charlie has mellowed out considerably since his puppy days. I really enjoyed his company. He would come up to me and look at me with those sad Beagle eyes until I would stop whatever I was doing, and pet him a while.

David brought Charlie's bed with him, and I put it next to my bed. It remained unused until he went home. Charlie preferred to lay by my feet at night, and he always faced the door. I was well protected and guarded.

Charlie's cage was here as well. I set it up in my bedroom for him to use while I went to work. Charlie is used to this when he is home. But he would have none of it while he stayed with me. The first morning I tried to leave him in it, he started barking as soon as I locked my door. I discovered that you can hear a Beagle's bark all the way from my apartment to outside my workplace next door. Knowing that my neighbors would be less than thrilled to listen to a Beagle bark all day, I went back upstairs, let Charlie out, hooked up his leash, and we both went to work. He was perfectly happy to be in a kennel at work where he could see me.

The second morning, I tried again to leave Charlie when I went to work. I found that the sound a Beagle makes when he howls carries nearly as far as does a Beagle's bark. So Charlie spent another day watching me work.

I took a few pictures of Charlie while he was here. As you can see, he seems to have worn himself out guarding me and watching me work. I really enjoyed having him with me for a few days, even if David didn't trust me to feed him properly. David claims that the last time he left Charlie with me, the dog gained five pounds, so David arrived with Charlie's food all measured out in zip bags - one for each day that he was here. Charlie likes chicken, meat loaf and hot dogs, as well as his dog food. But he is really partial to French Fries. Nice try, David.

http://www.4shared.com/file/64179305/1582a508/Grand-puppy.html

Dad and Clarice

Clarice was Dad's older sister. There were three years separating them in age; Clarice being born in 1908 and Dad in 1911. Their closeness was not only in age, but also in love.

Dad and Clarice spent a lifetime joking and teasing one another. Each gave as good as they got. So many times when they were together, the banter between them would roll. He would kid her about her weight, and she would counter with a remark about his lack of height. She would say that he needed to respect his elders, as she was older than he was, and he would counter with his opinion that his parents saved the best of their children for the last, which was what he was. With all of their kidding and joking, I never, ever heard either of them say anything that could be considered mean. They loved each other.

Both Dad and Clarice lived in the Blackduck Apartments for a number of years. I noticed at that time how they were concerned about one another. Dad would go to her apartment to check up on her, and she would stop in at his apartment to see him, nearly on a daily basis. But neither would let on that they were checking on each other to make sure each was OK. They treated those times as if they were just popping in to say hello. Each was able to maintain their dignity and independence this way, and it worked for them.

I came to understand better about their love for one another when both of them were residents of the nursing home in Blackduck. Clarice had lost her ability to remember beyond a minute or so. Yet, whenever I went to see her, she always knew who I was, and this amazed me. Dad was no longer able to care for himself, and had fallen several times before finally going into the nursing home. He used a walker or wheelchair to get around, and you could often find him sitting with Clarice in her room. He had more patience with her than I have seen from anyone before or since. Clarice and Dad had this conversation once while I was visiting them.

Clarice: "How is Mom?"

Dad: "Mom died in 1955."

Clarice: "Who is on the home place?"

Dad: "Nobody. The house burned down."

Clarice: "This is Vicki."

Dad: "Yes, this is Vicki."

Clarice: "How is Mom?"...................

These questions would be asked and answered many times over, and I never saw Dad grow impatient. I asked him about this once, and he said, "How could I be impatient with her. She's my sister and I love her."

Shirley told me that Dad and Clarice could be so very funny at times. It seems that as residents of the nursing home, they were brought together with many of the other residents for exercises. For them, in wheelchairs, this meant doing arm stretching exercises to help keep their upper body mobility. They usually sat side by side, and would be dutifully doing their exercises, when Clarice would whack Dad on the back of the head. Dad would continue exercising for a little while, and then reach over and smack her on the shoulder. Pretty soon, Clarice would whack him again, and so it went until one of the aides would say, "Now, you two Mathenys cut it out and behave yourselves."

When Dad died, I was doing pretty well at his funeral. I knew that Dad had lived a good life, and had lived longer in years than most of his brothers and sisters had. We had known for some time that Dad's death was just around the corner, so it was not a shock when it came. When it was time for the funeral to start, Dad's casket was at the back of the church. Earlier, when I had talked to Clarice, she wasn't sure why she was at the church. I was behind Clarice when she was wheeled up to Dad's casket so she could see him. I believe she had a moment of complete clarity, because she reached out and patted his cheek, and said, "Oh, Ralph." That's when my heart broke.

Clarice followed Dad the following year. She was the last of the nine Matheny brothers and sisters. They were quite a clan; kind, loving and full of the dickens. I don't dwell on their deaths, but on the memories I have of all of them. I could always stop in to see any of them and be welcomed with a hug. It is because of them that, although I didn't grow up in the Blackduck area where most of the family was, I always think of that area as home.

http://www.4shared.com/file/64072397/36132bc9/Dad_and_Clarice.html

I Am Grateful

We all think of things we are grateful for or thankful for during the Thanksgiving season. But sometimes we need to count our blessings without a holiday to remind us to do so. There are no photos accompanying this post. Just words from a grateful Mom.

I am grateful for my eldest son, who asked me to email him on my days off so he knows I am OK. He shows up at my apartment every week or two, and he and Kathy have taken me to lunch and shopping. He calls just to see how I am and to share whatever is going on in his
life. If he is here while I am at work, he will go to the store and pick up whatever I need, making it easier when I take the bus to go shopping, so I don't have so much to carry home by myself. I am grateful.

I am grateful for my eldest daughter, who has stepped up to the plate and helped me out in bad times. A few days ago, while talking with her on the phone, I told her that I was glad that she enjoyed my blog enough to want me to continue. I told her that earlier, I had felt somewhat overwhelmed now that I was alone, and she made sure that I understood that if ever I needed anything, all I had to do was call her. She tells me what my grandson is doing, and in the process, makes me laugh at the things he does and says, usually at a time when I really need to laugh. I am grateful.

I am grateful for my youngest daughter, who calls just because she hasn't talked to me for a little while, and wants to know how I am. She keeps me informed about what she and her kids are doing, and that helps me stay connected. She is always there when I need to go somewhere I can't get to by bus, or even if I can, she still takes me where I want to go. We have gone out to dinner together a couple of times lately, and I enjoy her company. I am grateful.

I am grateful for my youngest son. He and Staci bring the kids to see me from time to time, and email me pictures of their family, and that always brightens my day. He, too, will call to see how I am. He will do things like stopping in to see me at work, or like today, when he stopped at work and I wasn't there. It is my day off. Starla told him I had taken the bus to Target, so when I got off the bus, he was right behind, honking the horn and yelling, "Hey, Mom." He came in, and we sat and ate popcorn and drank sodas and talked for a long time. It makes me feel good that he wants to spend time talking with me. I am grateful.

All of my children have been there for me when it mattered. They make my life better. And they make me laugh. I once told one of them that I intended to live long enough to be a problem to my children, and the answer that came back to me was, "Mom, your work here is done!" I told another that he was driving me crazy, and his response was, "That's OK, Mom. It's a real short trip!" Another reminded me that I probably should behave, because, after all, it was my children who would select the nursing home! They all have wonderful senses of humor. Without that, we would all take ourselves way too seriously. The fact that we can joke and laugh is a good thing, and keeps us grounded, and lightens the load of everyday living. I am grateful.

I probably don't tell my children often enough how much I appreciate them all, and that is something that needs to be said. I hope they all understand how much I love them and how much it means to me to know that they are near. I am grateful.

Love,
Mom

School Days

Boston started First Grade last week. She likes school, and reported to her parents that she already had two new best friends. Oh, how quickly time passes. Wasn't it just yesterday that she was learning to walk? I hope that her enthusiasm for learning continues, and that she has teachers who are wise enough to challenge her and keep her moving ever forward.





http://www.4shared.com/file/62979301/9d6cd646/School_Days.html

I am continually amazed at what my grandkids are learning. They are light years ahead of what I learned at the same ages. Their opportunities are limitless. My prayer for them is that they should never stop learning. This is also my unsolicited advice to them. The day that I do not learn something new is a day wasted.

Boston's first day at school brought to mind stories of other school children. Her Great-Grandpa Matheny attended the White Pine School, which was located about a quarter mile from the Matheny farm in Taylor Township, Beltrami County. His father, Clifford Alton Matheny, was one of those responsible for organizing and building some of the rural schools in that neighborhood of Minnesota. Dad told me that his oldest sister, Lois, was one of his teachers at that school. He said that he liked having Lois teach him, but the downside was that his shenanigans were curtailed somewhat, because she would report his misbehavior at school to their father. He also related a story about encountering a black bear on one of his walks to school. It seems that the bear was at least as afraid of him as Dad was of it, and the bear headed off into the woods. Dad completed the Eighth Grade at that school, and then, as was commonplace in those times, did not go on to High School, but worked on the family farm until he married my Mother in 1945.

This photo was taken at the White Pine School. The three boys in the back row are Dad's brothers, Keith, Kenneth and Bruce. The three girls on the left in the front row are not known to me, but are neighbor children, as is the boy with the hat. Dad's sister, Clarice, is the smallest girl with the dark dress, and Dad is the little boy on the far right. Dad once showed me where he had carved his initials into the siding of the schoolhouse when he was a student there. Those initials, sadly, are gone. A few years back, an arsonist decided to burn down the school, and it is no more.

Boston's Great-Grandma was born and grew up in the town of Blackduck where her father, Andrew Jackson Paul, was Depot Agent, and that was where she attended school, graduating from Blackduck High School in 1942. She had musical talent, as did most of her family, and she won a High School Letter for her work in the High School's music program. She played piano, violin and cello, and she told me that the Letter was for playing cello in the school orchestra. I wish that some of that musical talent had been passed on to me, but alas, it was not. I tried piano lessons as a child, but lacked the interest or patience to practice. And Mom had a beautiful alto singing voice, which passed me by as well. Nope. Can't carry a tune. Not even in a bucket.

I have photos of Mom when she was of a school age, but this is the only one I believe is related to school. The kids are dressed in what looks like Colonial costumes, and this looks like it could be part of some sort of pageant. Mom is the little girl on the far left of the photo. I wish I had found this photo while Mom was still living, so I could have asked her about it.

It is amazing how things have changed since my parents went to school. My grandkids are learning things that were unheard of even when I attended school, like anything computer related. I recall that it was a big deal when my Typing class got an electric typewriter. Just one. We took turns using it. It has been years since I saw a typewriter in an office. When I went to High School in the early 1960's, the only options for girls were Home Economics, Secretarial courses or the basic classes if you wanted to become a teacher. And if you wanted to be a nurse, you took Biology. Now the sky is the limit. Girls can be whatever they want, whether it is the head of a corporation, an astronaut or a candidate for President of the United States. And how good it is that these options are available. I expect great things from the First Day of School girl, as I do from all of my grandchildren. They all have the opportunity to become whatever they wish, and the intelligence to do it. They are, after all, my grandchildren!

An Afternoon with Great-Grandpa Matheny

Dad loved kids. He understood them. He enjoyed their silly jokes. He made them feel important. He listened.

Dad never lost a certain child-like quality about him. He lived through many hard times and much adversity, and yet, he always kept his sense of humor. Perhaps that is what got him through those times. I know that his sense of humor is one of the things I remember most about him. The silliest of jokes tickled him so much. The sillier, the better. I think this is one reason he related to the grandkids and great-grandkids so well.

Jeri and I were talking about Dad just the other day. We were remembering some of the fun things about him. When my kids were young and we all still lived in Willmar, we saw Mom and Dad often. Sometimes it was just to drop in for a little while on our way home from town. Sometimes it was to spend a Sunday afternoon visiting. But we saw them often.

Jeri loves bananas. She particularly loved them as a little girl. Dad once told me that he, Mom and Kelly ate way more bananas than they wanted to, simply because he insisted that there be bananas in the house whenever Jeri was there. He told me how he loved it when she would walk through the kitchen door, scan the countertops with her eyes, and then say, "Got a "nana, Grandpa?" For that reason alone, they ate bananas until they nearly came out of their ears!

If we were at Dad's house in the morning, he would fix the kids breakfast. His idea of breakfast for his grandkids was a chocolate shake made of ice cream, milk and Carnation Instant Breakfast. Mom would fuss at him for feeding the kids ice cream for breakfast, but he said that it was good for them because of the Instant Breakfast. He said that they were getting more vitamins and things that were good for them in the Instant Breakfast than they would get in bacon and eggs. And, after all, the ice cream had calcium, and wasn't that good for their growing bones? So he fed them chocolate shakes for breakfast, and they loved it. Jeri said that she has since tried to make shakes the way Grandpa did, but she just couldn't get them to taste as good as the ones he made.

http://www.4shared.com/file/62135185/259d72c/An_Afternoon_with_Great_Grandpa.html

Here are a couple of pictures of Dad with some of his great-grandkids. I don't know what the occasion was, or if there even was one. I seem to recall that perhaps Jill wanted Zach to meet his Great-Grandpa. We all lived so far away that visits were few and far between, and Dad had seen pictures of Zach, but had not yet met him. At any rate, they spent an afternoon with Dad. He enjoyed every minute of it, and told me so when we talked on the phone after their visit.

In these photos, Dad is playing with Zach, showing him one of the things he whittled. It is a cage with two wooden balls inside, all carved from a single stick of wood. Dad never called it "wood carving," however. He whittled. Dad had been making these ball cages for years. My first baby rattle was one with a handle. That one is long gone, but I do have one that Dad made when I was just a small girl.

In the photos, you can see the shelves behind them. The shelves are filled with his whittled figures. He made ball cages, wooden puzzles, wooden chains, animals, birds, and whatever else took his fancy. Whenever any of us visited, he let the kids and grandkids pick out a piece to take home with them. I have a shoebox of his work that I treasure. From time to time, someone with the knowledge of the value of hand carved folk art, would try to get him to sell his work. He never did. He said that he whittled just for fun, and selling it would take the fun out of it. So he kept on whittling and gave his pieces away. He got such pleasure from giving.

I am grateful that some of my grandkids got to know their Great-Grandpa before he became so ill. I also hope that some will be able to remember him as I do.....a good man with a wonderful sense of humor, who was pleased when he could give and make someone else happy.

Back by Popular Demand

Back by Popular Demand

David and Staci stopped in yesterday.  They had new photos of the kids for me to see.  I downloaded the photos onto my computer, and then we sat and talked for a time.  During our conversation, Staci asked me if I would consider blogging again.  She said that the kids really liked seeing the scrapbook pages that I use here, and that she and David enjoyed reading the stories about our family.  David said that he thought it was such a good way for the kids to learn about our family.  He added that while at Jill and Joe's house earlier that day, Jill had mentioned to him that she wished I would do the blog thing again.  

So here I am.....back by popular demand.  

It has been nearly three months since Mike died, and I am feeling a little less overwhelmed than I was when I last posted.  My life has settled into a routine, and I find that I am able to do some of the things I enjoy, now that I am somewhat better organized.  Those who know me well know that I probably will never be totally organized, but I am at a point where it is better now than then.  I continue to be busy at work, and that is a good thing.....job security and all.  But I have worked out an arrangement with Star so that I have one day during the week off to attend to those things that I can't do on weekends, when the busses do not run.  She teases me about gallivanting about town via the bus, and usually asks me what adventures I am off to on my day off.  Like grocery shopping is an adventure.  Well, perhaps it is, what with the prices in the stores these days!

I'll try to give you some family history as well as some fun stuff along the way.  I will post as often as I can.  It is up to you, my children, to keep me supplied with photos of your families.  If I don't get photos from you, don't complain that you are not on the blog!!  

I think this will be fun for me again.

Love,

Mom

Last Post

This will be my last post on this blog. I have enjoyed posting the digital scrapbook pages of our family, as well as writing about them. However, when something like this is no longer fun and becomes a bit of a chore, then it is time to move on.

As you all know, on June 10, 2008, my life changed drastically. Mike took care of the cleaning and meal preparation, did the grocery shopping and laundry, ran errands, and took care of all the things that one requires to maintain a home and a life, while I held down a job to pay the rent and bills. In short, he made it possible for me to indulge myself in the things I enjoyed doing, like this blog.

Now I am responsible for all of the tasks that he took care of. I find that my time is limited, and there are choices to be made. I simply can not do it all, and something has to go in order to do other things that are important to me.

I will leave this blog online until it is removed for lack of use. Perhaps at a later date, I will start another. We shall see. Thank you all for sending me the photos that I used in some of the posts. Please continue to share your photos. They are precious to me, and I hope to get back to making scrapbook pages at a later time. And thank you all for your support in my little venture.

Love,
Mom

Whatcha Doin', Mom

Once in a while my phone will ring. I hear the voice of one of my adult children asking, "Whatcha doin', Mom," this afternoon or tomorrow or whenever. Then they will ask if I would like to come for an afternoon or evening, and spend time with my grandchildren. Sometimes there is a meal involved, like fish that David caught up north, or burgers on the grill. We aren't talking fancy here, and I don't need fancy. I don't even need to be fed. But I do need to see my grandchildren now and then, so off I go.

I love just watching the little ones. They are so busy. They color pictures for me to put up on my refrigerator. It is well wallpapered, and there is always room for more. They play games or involve me in some of their activities, like playing "Beauty Shop." We have gone to the park and played on the swings. They show off what they can do on the playground equipment. "Look, Grandma, what I can do!"

Sometimes the older grandchildren are there too. I am impressed with how good the older ones are with the younger set. They play with them, and make them laugh. Music to my ears. Nicki spent an evening putting French braids in the little girls' hair. Chris usually grabs Jacob, and soon the baby is giggling, too. How I love it all.

I also love it when Chris and Nicki tell me about what is going on in their lives - places they have been, or the sports they are involved in, or what they are doing at school. Because I work so much of the time, I am not able to go to their games or school activities, and having them tell me about them makes me feel connected. They are well on their way to becoming adults, and even though I love them, I like them as well. They are not babies any more, and are becoming good people. Makes my heart glad.

My son who doesn't have children will also call once in a while and ask, "Whatcha doin', Mom?" The last couple of times that happened, he and his lovely friend Kathy picked me up and took me to lunch, and afterward we went to do a little shopping. I thoroughly enjoyed those days.

The last time I heard, "Whatcha doin', Mom," David and his family came and picked me up. I had an errand to run at Target, so we went there first. As we were going into the store, Jill pulled up in her van, and I talked with her for a time. After we got back to my place, the phone rang, and Jill invited us all to her house for burgers on the grill. We had such a nice time. The kids played and the adults engaged in conversation. After a while, I sat back and just looked around me at my family, and I thought about how truly blessed I am.

These days some of my favorite words are, "Whatcha doin', Mom."

http://www.4shared.com/file/55211865/ab154ed9/whatcha_doin_mom_1.html

http://www.4shared.com/file/55211864/dc127e4f/whatcha_doin_mom_2.html

More Photos in my Mailbox

Most mornings I get up, stumble around making coffee and then sit down at my computer to read the morning news online and check my email before getting ready for work. Once in a while there is a surprise in my email that makes my day a good one right off the bat. A few days ago I had one of those surprises.

Jill had emailed me some photos of Zach. Nice way to start the day - seeing a grandson's smiling face. These photos of the grandkids enjoying themselves are precious. Makes me feel connected, even though I am unable to go to school functions due to the annoying need to work to pay the rent and bills.

Zach had taken a trip to the zoo with his class. He later told me that it was fun. He liked the giraffes. It sure looks like he was having a good time with his friends.

http://www.4shared.com/file/54474686/6eb1f2dc/More_Photos_in_my_Mailbox.html

Then there was the music program put on by his class for their parents. Zach acted as a Master of Ceremonies. His mother tells me that he did a great job. When he was asked why he volunteered for the job, he said that he thought they needed good readers. No false modesty there. And he is right. He reads above the level of his eight years. I am so glad that I have the photos to document this acheivement. Well done, Zach. Grandma is proud of you.

Mike and Rose

I am the animal lover in the family. I dragged home several over the 20 years of our marriage. Mike grew to love the animals. Well, maybe not the cats. Most definitely, not the cats. But he tolerated them because he loved me. But in spite of his protests, he grew to love the dogs.

Rose was probably our biggest challenge. She was willful, stubborn and had a mind of her own that no amount of cajoling or threatening could change. And she was naughty. Just because she could. But she also was one of the most lovable dogs I have ever had.

Rose had lived in a kennel with a run for all of her four years before I got her. She was a breeder dog and knew only her owner who fed and cared for her. So living in the city was a new experience for her. She was distrustful of people, and although she learned to walk on a leash, it wasn't her favorite thing to do.

Rose's stubbornness manifested itself most on her daily walks with Mike and Buster. She would decide that she just wasn't going to go where Mike and Buster were going, and would simply sit down, brace her front legs, and refuse to go any further. Mike had to pick her up and carry her a ways, set her back down, and then she would walk with them. Until she decided she didn't want to. Again. I would kid Mike about taking Rose out for a "drag."

In time, Mike did a wonderful job of socializing her. As he walked Rose and Buster, he often stopped to chat with people he met on the trail by the river, or on the downtown streets. Rose got to the point where she would go up to people and let them pet her without trying to sink her teeth into their hand, which was the goal. Mike would often come home from their evening walk, and tell me about some young lady or other who stopped to pet Rose. I kidded Mike that he just walked her because she was a "chick magnet." But his walks with her were the reason that her personality changed from being fearful of people to enjoying meeting new friends. It is thanks to Mike that when, after he died and I found that I was unable to give Buster and Rose the time and attention they deserved, she was able to easily make the transition, along with Buster, to their new home with a loving couple who could spend the time with them that I couldn't.

http://www.4shared.com/file/53073720/bf1e9175/Mike_and_Rose.html

She never lost her stubborn traits, however, and often was a trial to Mike. After Mike's death, I had the occasion to talk with our vet. He laughingly recalled a day when Mike and Rose stopped in at his office, which is four blocks away from our home. The vet said that apparently Rose had been particularly stubborn that day, and Mike's first words to him were, "I hate Yorkies." While going through some recent photos, I came across these three taken a month before Mike died. This was typical of their morning play. I'd say that he didn't hate Yorkies all that much.

Grandma Paul

My Grandma Paul was one of the sweetest women I have ever known. She was kind, loving and always had time for me, both when I was a child and when I grew into womanhood. She was a quiet woman. I never heard her raise her voice. I expect that she did, out of necessity, when raising her large family. All mothers find the need to raise their voices from time to time to get the attention of their misbehaving children. But she had infinite patience when it came to her grandchildren. She had the ability to make me feel like I was the most special child.

My family had moved from Blackduck to St. Paul in the late 1940's. Mom and Dad felt that their opportunities were limited in Blackduck, and that they would be better off financially if they went to the city where jobs were more plentiful. We lived at that time with Grandma Paul in her house on Hewitt Ave. in St. Paul, just across from Hamline University. It was a wonderful time for a little girl, who adored her Grandma and was able to spend time with her on a daily basis.

Grandma worked at Brown & Bigelow company at that time. Grandpa Paul was ill with heart trouble, and Grandma worked to support herself and her children who remained at home. Brown & Bigelow was a company that printed calendars and small art prints. I don't know what her duties were, but I remember hearing that she was a supervisor of her department.

Mother was a really good cook, and she no doubt learned from Grandma. I remember, in later years after my family had moved to Willmar, we would go to Grandma's house in St. Paul for special occasions. Grandma could make a meal that was truly memorable. Many times she would make roast beef with all the trimmings, and possibly the best gravy that I have ever tasted. It was rich brown and oh, so good. In my family, whenever someone was able to make good gravy, it was always referred to as "Grandma Gravy."

There are traits that seem to be passed down from one generation to another. Grandma wasn't fond of having her picture taken, which is probably why I don't have many good photos of her. I am more at ease behind the camera than in front of it. She disliked large crowds of people, as do I. She would attend functions where there were many people, but she always seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when she got home.

In the 1960's, Grandma left the Twin City area and moved to Willmar, where my Mother and Aunt Em lived. She stayed in the apartment on the upper floor of Dad's house on Becker Ave. I was already married by that time and raising my own family, but I took every opportunity to visit Grandma. I took my children to see her as often as possible, as I wanted them to know their Great-Grandma. Every now and then she would watch them for me while I ran some errand or another. Kelly told me about spending time with Grandma then. He loved to go upstairs to be with Grandma, and he told of sitting and playing checkers with her.

It became a Saturday afternoon ritual for me to act as beautician for Mom and Grandma. I would wash their hair for them, put it up in rollers, and when it dried, comb it out for them. Both Mom and Grandma then considered themselves ready for Sunday morning church services. Grandma had the most beautiful white hair. I often wished that when my hair turned from brown to gray, that it would eventually become white like hers. Alas, that was not to be.

I have heard several versions of how Grandma met Grandpa in Blackduck. This is the version that I know to be closest to true. Grandma had come to live with her sister, Amy, in Blackduck. She worked at a cafe there, and that is where she met Andrew Paul. He had been widowed at a young age, and had a small daughter, Dorothy. Apparently, Andrew took many of his meals at this cafe, and a friendship blossomed into a romance. They were married in May of 1914. They raised six children of their own; Duane, Adella, Elaine, Margaret, Marjorie and Emily. Another daughter was stillborn in 1932.

http://www.4shared.com/file/52540244/4b4d7f38/Grandma_Paul.html

I particularly like this picture of Grandpa and Grandma. It was taken in 1924, when Grandma was pregnant with my Mother. Mom always joked that it was the first photo ever taken of her. I can't help but see the resemblance between Mom and Grandma. Many of the children look like Grandpa, but Mom had many of the facial characteristics of Grandma. I have always been told that I look like my Mother. Which means that I look like Grandma. Which is probably the best compliment I could ever receive.

I was blessed to have my Grandma for 32 years. She died in June of 1978, and is buried next to Grandpa in the cemetery in Blackduck, along with their daughter. After all this time, I still miss her and think of her often.

Michael

http://www.4shared.com/file/51152980/d1d0a27c/Michael_Lee_Miller.html

Comparing Notes

I had a lovely surprise a couple of weeks ago. Kelly and his wife Jackie came from Bemidji to visit. This was only the second time I had the pleasure of Jackie's company, and I love her as a sister already. She is such a nice lady and a perfect match for my brother. And she is willing to sit while Kelly and I talk of old times. That makes her a real gem in my book!

http://www.4shared.com/file/50450321/d1cad3a/Comparing_Notes.html

We spent a Saturday afternoon going through old family photos. There were many that Kelly remembered and some he had never seen before. We talked of old times and old memories, and of the stories our Dad had told us, comparing notes. We seem to talk of Dad more often than our Mother when we are together. I think that is because Kelly doesn't remember a time that Mother wasn't ill. Most of our memories of her include time spent in hospitals or other aspects of her battle with rheumatoid arthritis. Mom didn't talk of her family very much, so we don't have those memories to draw upon. But Dad was full of stories of his brothers and the shenanigans they would pull. Or stories of his life and growing up, the various jobs he held and of places he had been and things he had seen. So we talk of Dad.

I finally found out the ending to a story Dad had told me years ago, but would never tell me how he and his brothers got the Model T car up on the roof! Dad told me that "Someone, I don't know just who," had taken the Model T car belonging to a prominent man in Blackduck, and had left it on the roof of his garage. Dad many times would start a story with those words, "Someone, I don't know just who," and by the slight crooked smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye, you would know for certain that his brothers or sisters or cousins were involved, and that he probably was right in the middle of whatever happened. Anyway, the story was about this car winding up on the garage roof. Dad would never tell me how this was accomplished, but while Kelly and I were reminiscing, I asked if he had ever heard that story. He said that he had, and that Dad and his brothers took the car apart and reassembled it on the roof. Mystery solved. This proved to me just how far the Matheny boys would go for a joke.

Kelly and I love to compare notes. I am 15 years older than Kelly, and have 15 years worth of memories that he doesn't have. But he lived near Dad in the last years of Dad's life, and was able to talk with him much more often than I could. So we compare notes. Sometimes Dad would tell me part of a story and tell Kelly another part. The whole of the story comes together when we compare notes. How lucky I am to have my brother who is willing to spend time with me comparing notes and memories. I hope that before we are both too old to remember anything, we can diminish the miles that separate us and have more time to walk down memory lane and compare notes.

She's Back!

I can now sit at my computer without my body screaming for a cigarette. So I am back. I still haven't caved in and bought cigarettes, and if I have gone this long, I expect that I won't. I will own up to taking one drag off someone's cigarette - just one drag - but the funny thing was that I didn't want any more. I am liking this being able to breathe and not cough thing. Been a long time since I could climb the stairs to our apartment without wheezing. So I believe that I will continue on this course. Thank you all for your support. It has helped more than you can know.

I have two scrapbook pages for you today.

The first is of David and his family. They took a road trip over Memorial Day weekend to the North Shore, and this page is of them at Gooseberry Falls. He said that the kids really enjoyed the trip.

I have always loved a good road trip. While I still had a car, I found it necessary for my health and well being to take an occasional road trip. Sometimes there was a destination and sometimes not. Didn't matter. What mattered was getting away from the monotony of everyday life.

I think I get this little bit of wanderlust from my Dad. He loved to just get in the car and drive. Didn't matter where. He just liked to drive. Most times our family road trips were confined to less than 100 miles in any direction. Sometimes we would go to Benson to shop. Other times we would just wander the countryside, stopping perhaps at an old schoolhouse just to snoop around or play on the playground equipment. Or maybe we would wind up at Ronnie and Em's in time for cake and coffee.

Once we stopped at an old schoolhouse. There was a swing set that included a trapeze. Dad was showing off. He often showed off for Mom. It tickles me to think that after all of the years they were together, Dad would still try to impress her. Anyway, Dad was showing off by doing chin-ups on the trapeze. He was doing really well. Had done five or six chin-ups, when something went awry. Maybe his hands slipped or maybe he just was so busy showing off to Mom that he didn't pay attention. Anyway, as he lowered himself from that particular chin-up, he caught the bottom of his nose on the trapeze. It made sort of a crunching sound. And then bled like a stuck hog. A couple of handkerchiefs and an old towel from the trunk later, he got the bleeding stopped. We went home. Dad was grumpy. Mom didn't say a word. In later years he would tell this story on himself, laughing and saying that's what he got for being a show-off.

Once we started a rambling drive and wound up near Granite Falls. We explored the river bank, finding driftwood that Mom took home to use in some craft project, and clam shells as large as a salad plate. The bank was more muddy than sandy, and Libby and I wound up covered in mud to our knees. We explored most of the day, stopping to eat a picnic lunch that Mom had fixed before leaving home. It was a fun Sunday afternoon. I miss road trips.

http://www.4shared.com/file/49190153/63d8b740/Shes_Back.html

The second scrapbook page is of Mom's father, Andrew Jackson Paul and his siblings. They are standing left to right: Walter Eugene Paul (m. Maud Ethal Mandery), Melvin Curtis Paul (m. Bessie Mabel McNab), Grace Vedder Paul (m. George Potts Watson), Clara Lydia Paul (m. Arnold August Pfenninger), Andrew Jackson Paul (m. first Harriet Lucina Felt and 2nd, Gladys Adell Morehouse [my Grandmother]) and Arthur Brayton Paul (m. Lillian Caroline Felt [sister to Andrew's first wife]}.

Walter was the youngest of these children of Hollis Brayton Paul and Adella Caroline Curtis Paul, and was the one in the family who seems to have been the most interested in preserving the Paul family history. (I have added the names of the spouses to make it easier to identify some of the people mentioned in the letters).

One by one Walter's brothers and sisters left home, but stayed in touch with the rest of the family through the writing of letters, as did other members of the family. Over the years, Walter saved many of these letters and his son, Kenneth transcribed them. I find them fascinating. They give a peek into what life was like for these ancestors of my Mother.

I am including in the Zip file the 60 letters that Kenneth sent to me, just as I received them. I particularly liked the ones written by my Grandfather, as they shed a little light on his personality. There is at least one written by my Great-Grandmother Adella. When put in chronological order, these letters are kind of a timeline of the lives of the Paul family in the late 1800s and early 1900s. I hope you find them interesting.

I Won't - Here's Why

I am taking a hiatus from my blog. I realize that I haven't posted for a couple of weeks. The hours that I am putting in at work have made me too tired at the end of the day to work on anything new. Now that spring has finally sprung, our customers want their dogs fluffed and buffed. It is a busy time of year. I am not complaining about being busy, however. I look on it as job security.

I also will not be spending nearly as much time at my computer for some time. It is while sitting at my computer that I smoke more than I should. I am out of cigarettes. I will not buy any more. I have tried to quit smoking many times in the past, and have failed at each attempt. I am determined to succeed this time.

It is not easy. I have symptoms of withdrawl. I am not feeding my addiction of nearly 50 years, and my brain wants nicotine, and I refuse to give it any. And I am CRABBY. At this moment, I would cheerfully chew up anyone who comes near me. Mike is hiding out in the bedroom. The dogs stay away. Even the cat doesn't like me. I don't blame him. But I will not buy another cigarette.

We are spending the weekend getting rid of the smoke odors in our home. All of our bedding, clothing, towels, curtains, etc. will be washed. I am buying a new carpet steam cleaner and Mike will clean the carpets early next week. Our landlord has some primer paint that will seal the walls and ceilings so that we don't have to scrub them all, and then we will start painting each room. I hope it will be a little bit easier to deal with this when the smell of smoke is gone from our living quarters.

I am doing my level best to think positive. I spend time thinking about what to do with the nearly $300 a month I will save by our not smoking. I also think of what it will be like to have clothes that don't have burn holes in them. Or what it will be like to stay indoors when the weather is bad because I am not going outside for a smoke. This also helps.

I promise not to be one of those smug, self-satisfied former smokers. I really dislike those people. I will not frown on those who smoke. I understand how incredibly tough it is to quit. I firmly believe that I will go to heaven, as I am going through my own personal hell right now, and I wouldn't wish this withdrawl thing on anyone. Please forgive me in advance for being cranky and out of sorts. I am sure that it will pass.

I want a cigarette about three feet long right at this moment, but I won't. I won't.

And this is why I won't.

http://www.4shared.com/file/44582898/3a41d8a6/I_wont_-_heres_why.html

Hockey Star

We have a hockey star in the family.

Zach learned to ice skate when he was three years old. When he reached the age of five years, he started playing hockey. He played for the Mini-Mites for two years. This year, he played in Mites 3, which is the highest level in that hockey program. His team is the Bulldogs.

Zach says that he likes playing the center position best because he gets to skate all over the ice. He likes the position of goalie the least, because they wear so much equipment, and it isn't all that comfortable!

I am continually amazed by the things Zach can do. At age seven, not only does he plays hockey, he also swims and plays chess. And, he can say the alphabet backwards. I can't! At age seven, I was playing hide-and-go-seek and hopscotch. And struggling through "Dick and Jane" books.

This generation of children is so much further advanced than was my generation. My grandkids can whomp me any day of the week at video games. They play sophisticated games on the internet that I don't even understand. I am not too crazy about their choices in music, but I recall that my parents weren't too happy with my music, either.

There is something to be said for a slower, less frantic way of life like I had as a child, but there is also a good deal to be said for the advances that have been made since then. These kids will grow up with so much more knowledge at their fingertips, and with skills that I could not even imagine. I am so lucky to be able to watch them grow and develop these skills.

We are very proud of you, Zach. This page is for you.

Love, Grandpa and Grandma

http://www.4shared.com/file/43378193/5c519087/Hockey_Star.html

No Training Wheels

Last evening about suppertime, the phone rang. When I answered, I heard Boston's voice. "Hi Grandma. Are you at your computer?" When I told her that I could be in a minute, she told me to check my email. "We sent you pictures."

As soon as I found my email, she said, "Look, Grandma. Daddy took the training wheels off my bike and I can ride. All the way to the end of the block. And back."

I told her how proud of her I was. What a milestone for a little girl. I think that most of us can remember the day the training wheels came off. I know that I can. And the look of pride on her face is wonderful. And she should be proud of herself and her accomplishment. Way to go, Boston. This one's for you.

Maddie, your day is coming soon. I'll be waiting for your phone call.

http://www.4shared.com/file/42407219/272aba82/No_Training_Wheels.html

Love, Grandma

Easter Bunny

My grandchildren are lucky enough to have a set of grandparents who know the Easter Bunny personally. The went to see this rather large rabbit with their Mom and Dad and Staci's parents. The looks on the faces and the sparkle in the eyes of children young enough to still Believe is priceless.

This picture of Boston and Maddie coloring their Easter Eggs brought back memories of my own childhood. We didn't do the egg hunt thing, but we always colored eggs for the holiday. It was a great production of boiling eggs and of cups in a row on the kitchen table to hold the dye. I don't know what the coloring kits are like now, but ours had different colored tablets that looked like Sweet Tart candy. These were dissolved in hot water and vinegar, the vinegar being the catalyst that adhered the dye to the egg. There were wax pencils to draw a design on the egg, and when dyed, the design remained white. This was probably pretty primitive compared to what the grandkids did.

And there was always an Easter Basket full of goodies for us on Easter morning before we went to church. The chocolate bunnies were my favorite. Although we were supposed to leave the candy alone until after Easter dinner, the bunnies seemed to lose their ears before we left for Easter Services. Dad would tease us about the deaf bunnies in our baskets.

It is nice to see traditions carried on by the youngest generation.

http://www.4shared.com/file/42341850/fae38b50/29_mar_2008.html

New Rain Boots

Sometimes a picture comes my way that just makes me smile. This is one of them.

http://www.4shared.com/file/42239743/cd658bcc/28_mar_2008.html

Day by Day

When I first started making digital scrapbook pages, I looked through all of my collected photos, searching for those of special events, of old photos of family...those photos that held a specific memory for me of days gone by. I looked for photos that reminded me of places I had been and things that I had done, or relatives from my past. It is good to have a keepsake to help remember these events and people.

But then, as I looked at other photos in my collection, I found that there were many that I had of kids and grandkids that showed them just living day by day. I didn't necessarily have to have been there to take the photos. I enjoyed seeing what they do when I am not there. I think this is why I so love to find photos in my Email. They make me feel a part of my family, even though we are not always together.

David and Staci brought Jacob to see me at my workplace yesterday. It was near the end of my work day, and I was able to spend some time holding Jacob, and showing him off to my boss and friend, Starla. We called Poppa, and he came down to the shop to get in on the holding and showing off thing. What a lovely way to end a particularly hard day at work.

While they were there, I asked if Boston and Maddie still considered Jacob their personal play toy. David had told me earlier that the girls acted like he and Staci had brought them a living dolly to play with. Staci said that Maddie still wanted to play with him allot, but Boston, being the older of the two, was now more into "helping." She has gotten good at feeding him, and Staci said that this does help when she is busy doing other things. I had already made this page showing Boston feeding Jacob, and that bit of information added to my enjoyment of this photo.

I was not present when these photos of Jacob and his Dad were taken. But it gives me all sorts of warm fuzzy feelings to see photos of my adult children with their children. Makes me believe that in a world of chaos and troubling headlines, there are still pockets of peace and calm, where a Dad can take a nap on the couch with his baby son.

http://www.4shared.com/file/42012687/87761f84/26_mar_2008.html