There's Always Room For Dessert

One of our favorite summer time activities is going out for

ice cream after dinner. We have a favorite place

that Jon and I used to go to before children.

When the kids came into our family,

we had even more fun bringing them with us for an

after dinner treat.
Oh the excitement of choosing what flavor of

ice cream that they want.

Last week, my Great Aunt Pearl, who lives

in Arizona, sent me a note with some money in it

so that we could "take the kids out for ice cream cones".

You don't have to ask us twice to do that.
The kids enjoyed two scoops of hard ice cream.
K. had some cherry jubilee,

and Doodles tried Moose Tracks for the

first time. She liked it so much that she told us

that was the kind of ice cream she wanted for her birthday.

Our kids have become ice cream experts. The first summer they

came to us, they were four and five years old.

They had NEVER had soft ice cream cones.

They were so excited the first time

they had that cold summery treat.

Now they are experienced with

the art of ice cream eating.

As K. happily proclaims,
"There's always room for dessert."

Too Young to Be a Grandmother

My grandkids.
Their mother.

Our Kitchen

This weekend, we worked on our kitchen. We

put in a new sink.

We added a new counter.

Jon is very good at planning. We even did a dress
rehearsal with the Formica, the dowels, but not the
contact cement.
Everything looked great. We got
the counter on with out any problem.
It was actually fun.

The trouble came when Jon went to use the

cutting tool. It wouldn't cut around the sink or

near the walls. Luckily, Jon was able

to borrow a tool that did cut closer.

Now all we have to do is add the metal trim

and the tile back splash. Our kitchen is looking

good.

Summer Evenings

One pitcher of Lime-Aid

One bowl of watermelon

Two cute kids.

One perfect dinner outside.

Oh how I love summer evenings.

A Day At the Fair

One of the things that I love best about the summer are all

of the local fairs.

This weekend, we enjoyed a day at the fair.

The kids had so much fun choosing between

rides and games. Doodles chose a game,

but while she held her prize, and watched

her brother on a ride, I think she may

have doubted her decision.

K. chose the bumper cars.

He had become quite curious about them after reading

something about a boy on bumper cars in a book.

Here he is chasing Jon and

trying to crash into him.

Look at the boy drive! He loved the

ride the whole time!
Notice the look of pain on Doodles' face.
She was really happy with her prize,
but really wanted to be doing what her brother was
doing.
All in all it was a very fun day at the fair. Lots of
sunshine, laughs, and fair food.
A great way to spend an afternoon.

I Am A Garbage Picker!

About five or six years ago, we bought our house. I wasn't

so crazy about it at first. The walls were all done in

wood paneling, and I must admit, I felt like I had entered

some sort of a lodge.

We looked at the house a few times before we made

an offer on it. Each time I tried to see the possibilities.

I tried to appreciate the large rooms,

high ceilings, and clever use of space

that the Arts and Crafts era bungalow offered.

Eventually we bought the house, but the

one room I continued to hate was

the kitchen.

Notice the red and white checked floor.
The walls were covered in a cream and brown tile,

and of course paneling.

The weekend I went to Maine,

Jon painted the cupboards a bright red to

match the floors and the Coca Cola

stuff that I had.

It made the room look so much better.

Then he painted the rest of the

kitchen. He covered the tile with a bright

white paint.

He covered the paneling with a robin's egg blue paint.

The room was transformed.

We ordered a bright red sink and some

boomerang patterned Formica.

Our kitchen has become fun.

I've always wanted the kitchen to be warm,

inviting, and groovy. I think we're on our way.

Tonight, while we were eating dinner,

I noticed one of our neighbor's carrying the

above step chair

outside to the curb to throw away.

The blue caught my eye.

I dashed from the dinner table and ran across the street.

It's official, I'm a garbage picker. He let me take the chair.

I cleaned it up, tightened the screws, and voila! Almost

like new.

Now I'm on the hunt for a Formica topped

table from the '50's.

Who knows, maybe someone will throw one out, and

I can make a career of garbage picking!

A Weekend Trip to Maine

My Mom and I have always been close. She worked

extra hard when I was growing up to keep our

communications open. She was ALWAYS available

when I needed her. She would

talk with me for hours when I was a

teenager and EVERYTHING was a crisis.

We used to take, what we would call, "Fun Girl" trips

throughout high school and college. We went

to see football games together, so that I could

watch a boy I had a crush on play.

We went to visit colleges together.

We went to Niagara Falls, Maine, Pennsylvania.

Wherever we went, we always had fun.

Then, she and my dad moved away. I got married. We had
our kids. We were still "Fun Girls", but we didn't take any
more trips together.
Foolishly, I thought we'd have time once the kids
were older, once things settled down, became less hectic.
Last October, my view on life and time together
changed forever. No longer was my life unlimited
time. No longer could I say, "We can do
that next year, next month, next week."
I believe without a doubt that I am the person
that I am because of my mother. She put all of her love,
time and energy into me. She loved without
selfishness. She gave to me with no thought of
her own needs. She encouraged me to be
whatever I wanted. Her life was a reflection of
love and faith. The type of love and faith that I hope to impart
to my own children. Last spring, she read
an article about a clam festival in Maine. She cut it
out thinking it might be fun. She thought I might enjoy it.
I thought, we should enjoy it, together.
Last weekend we took a "Fun Girl" trip
to Maine. We staid right on
the ocean.
We ate at lots of fun restaurants that she had read
about. We took a trip to Yarmouth, to
the clam festival.
We had fun. We made memories.
We talked about life. We talked about death.
We talked about all of the fun
that we've been blessed enough to have.
We took time to watch the ocean.
Hear the birds. Eat lots of seafood.

We took time to just enjoy each other. We enjoyed

the time that God has given us together.

Although I don't understand this illness, I

trust that my Heavenly Father does.

I'm tempted to say, "This isn't fair. Why does

my mom have to have cancer."

But then I think of the number of people that don't have

a mother that they love so much. The people that

don't have all of the happy memories that

I do. I think of the time that God is giving us.

The time that He is allowing for me

to hold my mom. The time He's given me to tell her

that she matters. That her life changed mine. That

she inspires me. I have the privilege of

making memories with my mom.

I hope that as my children grow, they will

see me as I see my mom. They will share the happy

memories with me that I share with my own mom.

I hope that God will give me lots

of time with my mom. I do know that if her

time on earth is shorter than I would like,

I will meet her again, in Heaven.

For that, I am grateful.