Open House

Last week, my grandkids came down from up north just a few days before we hosted three folks from Mexico. So, I told my grandson I haven’t had time to blog lately.

“Write about us making s’mores in the backyard,” he said.

This picture is from istockphoto.com.

All the family left except for my grandson. The next day the married couple and one of their children’s godmother came to stay for six days. What did I discover? My grandson has been learning Spanish since kindergarten. What a delight!

My sister came over one day and she used her faltering Spanish so the ladies began using their less than perfect English. The man spoke more fluently than they did.

I learned hambre means hungry and hombre with a long o sound means man. I picked up a little of the language and before I knew it, they were off to their own country before Fall hit. I missed them when they left.

They departed just in time, because it feels like autumn is in a hurry to send chilly breezes this year. The married lady really felt the cold and it’s gone down a few more degrees in the short time they’ve been gone. My grandson visited when the rain stayed, so he only got a day or two to enjoy the outdoors. His siblings got more sun and opportunity to enjoy the playground and one took a walk in a creek.

So, last week because we weren’t sure if our town allowed a fire pit, we put charcoal in a family-sized grill with papers for kindling. The kids broke sticks in the middle to help the fire along. They’d gathered long sticks from trees and from those that fell to the ground.

My daughter brought chocolate candy bars, large marshmallows and graham crackers to make our s’mores. S’mores is short for “some more” because one makes you want two.

I taught my grandkids to use patience and hold their stick impaled marshmallow well above the fire so it would toast brown instead of being a black cylinder, burning hot-some encased in flames. Except for the middle child, he wanted a burnt one.

Their attempt to eat a marshmallow fresh off the grill burnt one of the kids before they comprehended the warning.

Now, another grandchild is staying with us for a few days for Grandpa time. She asked my husband to buy flowers for me, and so he did. I let her try her hand at pouring pancake batter and then flipping them when it was time.

Each grandchild brought their unique personalities and interests to enliven our summer. My husband took each child out for a meal to a local restaurant and her turn is tomorrow.

Tonight, my husband told me she wanted to invite me to come along. She’s an early riser, so she told me I’d have to get up before my normal time. I said, “I can do that.”

When we prayed after she got tucked into bed, I went to give her a kiss on the cheek, just as she turned her head. “Grandma, you got my ear!”

“That’s gross,” I said.

“I know it; it had a booger on it.”

Kids, you gotta love ‘em.

May God bless you.  

Married Days with Rain

I went to exercise class yesterday with two ninety-something year old’s and another lady older than me. Some have been exercising together for 25 years now, which boggles my mind because my husband and I tend to move. Our average stay at two homes we bought was 10 years and now we’re beyond that here, but nowhere near 25.

Sometimes I pick on my husband, whom I love very much. So, yesterday I told the women that I sat in his car last week and the passenger seat was soaking wet. He told me to get over it, kind of, and wear the wet, heavy jeans because we were going on a date to eat dinner and then catch the new Spider Man movie. He didn’t want to be late for the beginning of the show.

I told him I would be right back and scooted out of the car. I have a slight allergy to dark denim, which is what I wore that night. Wet, dark denim is altogether different than dry dark denim, and to quote Yosemite Sam, the cartoon character, I realized “My biscuits are burning!”

Related image
yosemite-sam.net

Raining, Fun, Thailand, Water Day
https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2015/10/08/05/30/raining-977210__340.jpg

The older ladies and I talked about the crazy cloud-bursts of rain and moments later, sunshine. Then, one speaking of a quilt folded in four in the car sparked my memory.

An elderly lady from our church made lap quilts while living in the nursing home to give away and I asked her if I could keep one. When I came outside for our date last week, I quadrupled the lap quilt to sit on it so I wouldn’t get wet again. Thus, I mentioned my husband’s car seat getting rained on.

I didn’t tell the exercising ladies that my husband didn’t complain when I hurried from the car. He didn’t yell or use sarcasm later when he waited for me to arrange the quilt.

Now, we’re heading for another wedding anniversary and sometimes I wonder how, as a young person with a decision that momentous, that I got such a great guy. I did pray like crazy and seek advice from people I respected with good marriages and noticed he loved his mother and thought highly of his sister. Sometimes I know God’s in the details of my life, even when I’m oblivious of Him.

On Thursday, I parked next to my husband’s automobile downtown and the rain began, so I put his windows up. Then last night as I washed dishes, he came into the kitchen to ask me if it was raining and were my car windows up? I dashed out the door and there they were, half open.

If you get caught in a sudden rainstorm in New York State, or elsewhere, I hope your car windows are closed if you need to get out for a bit. If you do your spouse a favor, they may return the gesture. God does say in Gal_6:7b  “for whatever a man sows, that he will also reap” (NKJV).

May God bless!