Draw your own conclusions

Since my blogging buddy and dear friend Mari is always bragging about showing us how talented her granddaughter is (actually the entire family are staggeringly gifted in art -- Mari's husband, Bob, made the pirate statue you see to the right of where you're reading), I thought I'd share a grandkid drawing.

Hence the picture of me, above. Created by Dagny.

Did you recognize me? I mean, I know I wear my hair longer than that but I think you'll agree that the black outfit, big mouth, and long spiky eyelashes are, as they say, on point.

Some may even say a dead giveaway.

My ears, however, do not stick out parallel to the floor. No matter what anyone says.

Illustrating (see what I did there) that Dagny does not have to be prodded to produce masterpieces, this artistic offering came completely unsolicited.

She made it during church last Sunday night.

This second portrait is of Dagny herself -- and Peppa Pig, is my guess -- complete with her name written by both me and her.

Can you tell which one she wrote?

This was done several weeks ago, at my house.

Her mouth is also drawn large and open wide, which -- trust me -- is an accurate rendering of the subject.

Although I'm overwhelmed by my genius grandchild's mad skillz, I have only one wish in this regard:

That she never goes up against Alaina in an art contest.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday :: Happy Labor Day Weekend

Wednesday Words :: 8/28/19

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Happy Wednesday

Scene and heard at church :: 8/25/19

The final Sunday of August 2019 was a pleasant one for us. 

Temperatures struggled to get out of the seventies -- and in fact, I do not believe they did, all day.

The skies were moody as we left church a little after noon, but no rain developed. That I know of.

Sitting in the pew behind my darling friend Joyce and her husband, as always, Audrey and I chatted with them during the interlude between Sunday School and the morning service.

Thou art the woman

Audrey relayed that on Saturday, after one entire week of school, Dagny had used a big word. She told her mother that she -- Audrey -- in some matter or another, was the culprit.

What? said Audrey. Where did you even learn that word?

At school, Dagny replied.

What does it mean? Audrey asked.

Someone who does something bad, Dagny said.

Well okay then. Shut the front door, open the back door, and let the dogs out.

We were still cackling about that when Joyce revealed that she had taken her seven-year-old grandson out to eat at McDonald's, where she had requested exactly two of his French fries.

Why don't you want more French fries than that, Nana? the boy wanted to know.

Because I'm trying to lose weight, Joyce said (and she has, and she looks fabulous).

Don't worry, Nana! responded her grandson. You can just call Jenny Craig!

Indeed.

Cue always needs a you

For church yesterday Dagny was wearing a jumper that is actually one of two identical jumpers I bought for Melanie and Allissa as their Christmas outfits in 2011.

The jumpers are of black grosgrain fabric and feature wide black satin ribbon bows and sparkly black buttons at the shoulders and on the front.

To be worn beneath the jumpers I bought pale pink ruffled turtlenecks. My only two littles (at the time) looked divine in these outfits and they are by far my favorite of all the dresses I've ever bought for them.

(If you care to, you may see photos of the girls wearing the outfits, in the slide show contained in this post from February 2012.)

Melly wore only the size six, but Allissa wore both of the jumpers. Dagny has now worn the size four (last year) and is wearing the size six, which will fit her throughout this fall-winter season.

Yesterday she paired it with a gray bell-sleeve top, and I think you'll agree that she looked special.

I told her to stand on the grass and let me take her picture.

Then I decided to have Audrey take my picture with Dagny.

I know; I look creepy. I can't help it. TG says I'm scary. (He likes me scary. But still.)

In my own defense, I was born with a theatrical bone and Gothic sensibilities. Go ahead and ask anyone. I will wait.

But the Johnny Depp in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory resemblance? I wasn't going for that.

At any rate. It is what it is.

Then I wanted to capture Audrey with Dagny. Because why not.

Whatever else this life may be, it is most certainly not a dress rehearsal.

My middle daughter and her only daughter have such beautiful body language when they are together. They always have.

It's full of emotion.

It says: I need you like Q always needs a U.

I don't know why I didn't get TG in on this. Probably because he was several yards away, talking to someone.

Anyway. Not gonna lie: I hope that several years hence, Andrew and Brittany's as-yet-unborn daughter will wear at least one of those black grosgrain jumpers with the wide satin ribbon trim.

And then I dream of Chad and Erica someday having a baby girl, who in time will wear the jumpers too.

Speaking of Cherica, they are flying to Chicago for the Labor Day weekend, to do big-city stuff including taking in a Cubs game at Wrigley.

Doesn't that sound like good times? Even taking into account the Cubs' pitching woes?

TG and I won't be far behind them. We're doing the same thing later in September. Only, we will drive, not fly, to the Land of Lincoln.

Chad and Erica are not pictured here because while this impromptu photo session was taking place, they were leaving to have lunch at a downtown breakfast restaurant that closes at two o'clock.

We'll catch them next time. 

And that's the truth

Visiting for the first time at our church on Sunday morning was a gentleman named Lonnie. He is pictured with TG at the top of this post.

TG became acquainted with Lonnie earlier in the summer (it may have been late spring) when he rang the doorbell of the house Lonnie shares with his wife, to invite them to church.

They were new to the community.

For many weeks, on Tuesday evenings when TG goes on church visitation, he has attempted to set up an appointment to talk with Lonnie about the Lord.

Last Tuesday evening, at a pre-arranged time, TG sat with Lonnie in his living room and showed him from the Bible how he could be saved, and be certain that he will spend eternity in heaven.

Lonnie trusted Christ for the salvation of his soul, and came to church on Sunday to make a public profession of his faith.

For whosover shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved (Romans 10:13)

Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me. (John 14:6)

Lonnie was so happy to have made that decision. And we were happy for him.

I asked Lonnie if he had ever been told the truth about salvation, from the Scriptures, before.

He said that, prior to Tuesday, he possessed some knowledge of the subject but he'd never heard it explained clearly, as TG had done.

And he told me that he'd be glad to have his picture made with TG, and to be featured on this blog, after I said that many of my readers would rejoice with him.

Stripe a pose 

Back for evening services, I realized that Audrey, Erica, Dagny, and I were all wearing stripes.

There had been no memo. It was unplanned.

So we pressganged our Chad into memorializing the sartorially significant moment, before we all departed for home.

Meanwhile there was a pretty sunset melting through the tree branches at the edge of the parking lot, justice to which is in no way done by this photo, taken with my iPhone.

It (the photo) is not up to my standards. But at least you get the idea.

And I think we can agree that I do need to learn to relax. Lighten up, as it were.

I'll thank you not to snicker.

So here's to the waning days of what has been a wonderful summer -- we'll be Septembering in three, two, one -- to a coming season of glorious weather, and to my beloved B-E-R months waiting in the wings to bless us with their uniquely exquisite bounty and beauty.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday :: Happy New Week

So let's get started

Day One, Baby

Oh dear. I had no idea it had been so long since my last post, until my good buddy Sally in Florida nudged me to see why I've been uncharacteristically silent.

Well. It's like this.

Summer -- as in, the part where kids are out of school -- is winding down and we had planned for the grandchildren to come for a final few days of swimming and related merriment.

Call the roll

That took place -- and took up most of -- last week.

Included in the visit was our new tradition of shopping for school supplies, which TG and I like to buy for them.

And added to this year's list of supplies needed was Dagny's.

She started kindergarten on Monday.

Melanie and her haul

I know; right? Our Dagny, in school?

Yes. As you know, she is five, and if ever a five-year-old was more ready to start school, I would pay good money to meet said five-year-old.

As in, being bright and capable, the child needs a challenge. And, being a people-loving singleton, she craves the company of other children.

Support system

It will be good for everyone, all around, for Dagny to be occupied scholastically and socially for approximately seven hours a day, five days a week.

But all such page-turnings come with their freight of what, for lack of a better word, may be called sadness.

It's the end of babyhood; that much is certain. And although we would not want our children to remain babies, it's a source of wistfulness for parents and grandparents to realize that their littles are no longer so little.

Papaw loves Dagny

So it was that Audrey began in the late spring preparing Dagny for school, and making the necessary arrangements to begin paying for her baby's private faith-based education.

Dagny is enrolled at the same school -- a ministry of the church we attended for six years when we first moved to Columbia -- of which her Aunt Erica and Uncle Andrew are graduates.

Be true to your school

Last Thursday evening, after the children swam and we enjoyed an early dinner, no fewer than ten family members accompanied Dagny to her school for an orientation event.

(I do believe she had the largest entourage of any student there. At least, that was our aim.)

After a general informational meeting in the main auditorium, everyone peeled off to visit their classrooms.

Please be seated

We all traipsed down the hallway which houses the various kindergarten classes, to the K-5 room.

We've known Dagny's teacher for many years, so there was a happy reunion with her. She is an excellent lady and a stellar educator. A+ on that score.

We found Dagny's seat, marked with her name on zebra-striped laminated card stock, in the front row.

Mommy's girl

(A good thing, her mother remarked. Less to distract her.)

One by one we had pictures made with our angel, beaming from her tiny desk.

(It was only later that I realized we'd forgotten to get a picture of Dagny with Aunt Stephanie. But we did get a group photo with the two of them in it.)

Cousin closeness

When we'd wrung every last drop of excitement and anticipatory energy from the situation, we all emerged back into the sweltering evening and headed home.

On the way we stopped for ice cream and everything that goes along with it. Our grandson, Andrew, was in our car and as we entered the store, I reminded him to make hay while the sun shone.

As in, you're here with Papaw and he's paying, so if you want something, now's the time to speak up.

She's my angel

He requested chocolate hard shell for his ice cream, and after further consideration, picked out some marshmallow fluff for good measure. He mentioned sprinkles too but I told him we had some at home.

Andrew said he'd also like some of those little round cheeses wrapped in red paper.

Babybel? I said.

That's the one, he affirmed.

Second grade, here I come

So we secured a net pouch chock full of Babybels. Later, I asked my daughter how her boy had developed such expensive tastes in snack cheeses (usually a run-of-the-mill string cheese will do).

She said he'd been exposed to Babybel while on vacation, and that was all it took.

Turns out all the kids like Babybel. Dagny ate the last one when she stopped by to see me this evening before going home for a bath and early-to-bed.

Time to shine

I won't be replacing those. At least, not until little Andrew comes back.

Speaking of Andrews coming back ... big Andrew made it safely to Kandahar and began flying missions today. He posted a picture to Instagram of himself refueling a Fairchild Republic A-10 Thunderbolt II aircraft -- the Warthog.

He'll return home in late September.

Allissa's treasure trove

Pray for Brittany, who is being brave. Any separation is difficult. She will stay busy decorating the nursery for the baby girl due in early December.

The day after orientation at Dagny's school, TG and I took all of the children, plus their mothers, to Walmart for school supplies.

We each took a kid and their list, and trolled the aisles until every writing utensil, highlighter, dry erase marker, glue stick, pencil sharpener, eraser, notebook, pencil pouch, nap pillow, pack of loose leaf paper, block of index cards, roll of paper towels, and box of tissues had been accounted for. 

This should do for now

In addition, there were cans of Play-Doh and bags of M&M's and packs of baby wipes and sundry other items that rounded out Dagny's list of necessities.

I bought Dagny and Melanie each an inexpensive dress as well. The other children wear uniforms to school.

The backpacks were well stuffed when this buying extravaganza was concluded. Do you remember when you went to school with not much more than a notebook, a pack of paper, gummed reinforcements, and a pen and pencil, and a parental reminder not to talk without first raising your hand? Me too.

We went home and had an elaborate and tasty dinner prepared by me and consumed with gusto by everyone. Followed by more swimming and more ice cream.

My Porter People

I'm pretty sure the whole thing qualifies as epic.

The North Carolina group went home on Saturday. They start school on the twenty-eighth.

Come Monday, I got up at an hour of the day when I normally have two hours left to sleep. I dressed, applied cosmetics, brushed my hair, spritzed on some perfume, put on my rings and a pair of earrings, and was at Dagny's school twenty minutes before she had to be there.

Teacher said bring M&M's

It was a cool morning and as I stood by my car and waited, I watched parents dropping off their darlings, taking pictures to memorialize the first day of school.

At last my own darling arrived, practically squirming out of her skin, so excited was she to get the school day underway.

Dagny glowed as she held aloft her Peppa Pig lunch box, which I knew contained a delicious and nutritious midday meal packed by her mother.

Make me smart. I'm already cute.

We walked our baby to the line where she was to stand with her classmates. She fell right into place. We watched as she marched obediently with them, in single file, to the classroom.

I kept going and didn't look back to see her sitting in her desk. I might have had something in my eye.

Because wasn't it only ten or fifteen minutes ago that she looked like this?

Five days ... five years

I think so. And I think that despite it being a happy day, realizing once again how swiftly the years go, made me sad.

Time is undefeated, folks. Best not forget it.

So Audrey and I went for coffee at Krispy Kreme and we may have eaten donuts. Because how could you not?

Maybe we'll make that a tradition too.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday

Eye eye, sir

So here's a bit of news:

Two weeks ago, TG had surgery to remove a cataract from his right eye.

That's distinctly different from a dogaract and since we have a cat now, most appropriate.

A Cataract is also completely different from a Rincoln. 

(You know which one I drive.)

But you'd have to know my TG better than you probably do in order to appreciate the significance of him voluntarily showing up at a health care facility to undergo a medical procedure.

I've known him for over forty years and with the exception of one or two chiropractic issues over the years, a long-ago (think waning days of the Carter administration) ear infection, and the occasional sinus misery in the winter, my TG does not get sick.

He wasn't sick this time, so it was doubly strange to see him in a hospital gown, all tucked into a Stryker bed, wearing a gauzy blue shower cap, IV line in place, being fussed over by nurses who wanted to know how tall he is.

(Six foot four.)

Thus he was feeling vaguely uncomfortable only as one is prone to do when, having presented oneself at the designated place at the appointed date and time, and feeling foolish outfitted as one is required to be, one is resigned to being poked and prodded while marginally "out of it."

So it was that yesterday, TG was required to have the lens in his left eye -- which, unlike his right eye, did not have a cataract -- replaced to match the other one.

Are you confused yet?

What it amounts to is that if you get a new lens put into one eye, you have to get a new lens put into the opposite peeper.

Like, separate but equal.

It works better that way.

(I am speaking in layman's terms. In case you hadn't already figured out at least that much.)

At any rate the whole thing was easy peasy -- it takes longer for them to get you ready for surgery than to perform the surgery itself, and TG experienced nary a ghost of a twinge of pain -- but naturally the patient could not drive either a Cataract or a Rincoln after the procedure, so I was with him the whole time.

And both times -- two weeks ago, and yesterday -- he was under doctor's orders to lay low for several days following the operation.

So that's what he's doing now -- watching the golf channel, to be exact -- and since it's hot as blue blazes outside, it's just as well. Believe me.

What have I been doing?

Well. There's been this piece of paper in my life since the first surgery. Now there are two of them.

On each of the pieces of paper -- one for the right eye, and now one for the left -- is a grid showing the three separate eye drops that must be splashed into TG's eyes several times on the day of surgery and several times a day for four weeks afterwards.

Many times a day I consult the grid, find the correct day, pick out a prescribed eye drop, drip a drop of it into TG's eye, then chart what I've done by filling in a circle.

(Just like taking a standardized test. Only, there are no wrong answers unless you get the drops -- and the eyes -- mixed up. So far I'm scoring 1600.)

Five minutes after administering the first drop, I have to put in the next eye drop, and fill in another circle. Five minutes after that, we repeat with the third eye drop.

It has kept me busy.

On both days of surgery I made TG a special dinner. Yes, I make his dinner most every day but on these days I put in some extra effort.

TG loves my mashed potatoes and with mashed potatoes he loves sweet baby peas. He isn't particular about the meat portion; however, as much as he likes barbecued chicken or the odd pork chop, he prefers beef.

Two weeks ago on surgery day, with his mashed potatoes and peas, I gave him a broiled sirloin patty.

Yesterday I made my legendary meat loaf. It has been years since I made that recipe.

As with most of my personally developed recipes, it's not written down and there are no particular measurements.

But here's how I made it yesterday:

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JENNY THE PIRATE'S LEGENDARY MEAT LOAF

2 lbs. ground sirloin

1 egg

1 handful old-fashioned oats (dry)

Ketchup -- I reckon I squeeze in about one-third of a cup but I don't measure

Creole seasoning -- I use Tony Chachere's but Zatarain's is great too -- I guess about a teaspoon but again, I don't measure

Onion powder -- I guess about half a teaspoon but I close my eyes so I don't really know

Worcestershire sauce -- I suppose eight to ten shakes but who's counting

Sometimes I add a squeeze of yellow mustard but this time, I didn't. I forgot. But it's really good if you remember to do that.

Mix up all of your ingredients except for the ground sirloin. Add the ground sirloin last. Mix well and shape into a loaf (a slightly wider, flatter loaf works best).

Place into a baking dish with plenty of room all around the edges of the loaf.

Bake uncovered in a 350-degree oven for about two hours -- maybe fifteen minutes longer, depending on your oven.

The smell of this meat loaf cooking is heavenly.

With about half an hour -- give or take -- of cook time remaining, take the meat loaf out and glaze the top with a thick layer of ketchup. Do not skimp on the ketchup. Lavish it on the top until it runs down the sides real good.

Put it back into the oven to finish cooking.

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This is simple but excellent and I hope that if you make it, you and yours will enjoy it as much as TG does.

I personally like an end piece best; the edges get crispy and there's that tangy hot ketchup dripping all down.

When I brought TG his plate where he was sitting in front of the TV last evening, convalescing, and he saw the two slabs of meat loaf flanked by a creamy mountain of mashed potatoes and a generous helping of sweet peas, his new and improved eyes nearly rolled back in his head.

Later, for dessert, he had another half-piece of meat loaf and another decadent dollop of creamy potatoes (mine contain lots of butter, whole milk, and sour cream). He may have also had a cookie later.

And tomorrow, he'll eat leftovers. The cook has the day off.

And that is all for now because it's time to administer another round of eye drops.

Fingers crossed that I continue to bat a thousand in that department.

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Happy Thursday