Vamos Por La Casa!

Wanna know what love is?



Love is stopping at a hotel for the night when you’re less than 2 hours away from your house, but you’re too tired to stay awake driving at midnight. And besides that, you know ThatManILove wants you to be safe. Even if you get the last room at the hotel, there is no parking, and the cowboys, their women and their munchkins are still partying in the breakfast room.


And your eldest son is coming through the same town and wants to see you.


At midnight-thirty.


And his truck trailer loaded with horses is too big to go around the hotel parking lot, so you have to get in your truck and go meet he and his girlfriend at the closest "big enough to turn that honking sucker around" parking lot.


And then you have so much fun visiting with them for thirty minutes that when you get back to the hotel, you’re wide awake.


Awake enough to check out and drive the two hours home at 1:30 a.m.


But you...don’t. You go back to your hotel room and go to sleep.


Yup.  That, people, is love.

Update...(Can You Still Put Them Up For Adoption After 20?)

Elder Son is doing better - he's mobilized, he's up and going, and already horseback again.  I sent him a text to see what he was doing and here's how it went:

Me:  What are you doing?

ES:  Riding a bronc...he's as hard headed as me.

Me: (Oh.My.God.Does.He.Have.A.Working.Brain.Cell.??) And your leg?

ES:  It hurts but what's new?

Me: (I swear he's going to drive me to drink.) What about the doc?

ES:  Gonna be Tues or Thurs next week

I guess we'll know more then.  His Nanny got out of the hospital today, and will be recuperating at her daughter's house.  Thanks so much for your prayers, they are greatly appreciated.


As to the Younger Smartalecjustlikehisfather Son, after his last April Fool's joke - prank - I thought his dad was going to kill him Facebook event where he told the world he had just found out he was going to be  a father, he is breathing.  I swear.  I saw him.  Yesterday, he changed his FB status to "single".  I couldn't resist, I had to do it.  I posted:  "But what about the BABYYYYY?"  Soon after, one of his friends jumped in: "Oh, did your beer break up with you?  how sad."  


How did that song go? "I believe the children are our future...teach them well and they will lead the way..."  RUN! RUN!!!!!!

And now, for an update on the backyard....FINALLY, things are moving along!  Artificial turf and sealing of flagstone this week...and then, in come the plants.  The pergola is now framed out, and over the next week we'll probably see it come to "be."


Happy Memorial Day weekend!

A Life In The Day...

ThatManILove and I booked flights to go to Dallas for the day plus an overnight stay.  8am Saturday flights.  Which mean we had to be at the airport at 7 a.m.  No problem, just an everyday occurrence at the Sounding Forth casa.  And then...it happened. Late Friday night, I get a  call.  My son just arrived home from a long trip to Arkansas.  Twenty minutes later, around midnight, Elder Son walks through the door, saying, “Mom.  I’m here.  Will you look at my leg?”

Four plus years ago, Elder Son had a serious leg surgery that our good doctor healed with a distal realignment procedure.  Sounds easy, but it’s not, by any means.  We had problems upon problems -  he developed blood clots, lost tons of weight, then the wound would not close because he had lost so much weight the skin wouldn’t stretch, and I could go on.  One thing led to another, and it took him 4 months, home health care, and 2 subsequent surgeries before he healed up and got on with his life.

I bet you’re wondering, “Is this the same leg?”

Yes.  Darnit.  Dang the luck.  Creepers.  It’s the same leg.

ThatManILove and I  and Elder Son discussed our options.  Should we go to the Midland emergency room NOW?  The leg is hot.  Tripled in size.  Hard to the touch.  Should we go to the Lubbock emergency room, where Elder Son’s doctor lives and practices, so he could followup?  Between the three of us, we can’t get to a firm answer.

I had a thought.  I ran to get my iPhone...scrolled through the contacts...and found the good Doctor’s cell number - after all these years, I still had it. Elder Son took a picture of his leg, compared to his other leg.  And then, he forwarded the picture, and a short message to his doctor.  Amazingly, said doctor calls Elder Son immediately (remember, it’s after midnight!), and they formulate a plan for Elder Son to go to the emergency room during the daylight hours when the ortho doctor is on call.

By 1:30 a.m., it’s been decided that TMIL and I will go on our trip, but cut it down to a one day trip, with no overnight stay.  Elder Son will go with his father to the emergency room and we’ll be back that night to check on him.

We leave for Dallas at 8am, go take care of our business, have lunch with friends, and head back to the airport.  I call my son, who doesn’t answer.  I call his father, and find out that his mom, my son’s grandmother, has suffered a stroke and they’re all at the emergency room.  So, father and son are at the emergency room where they are supposed to be, but for all the wrong reasons...

We miss our direct flight, and have to fly....from Dallas to Albuquerque, and then to Midland.  Yeah.  We flew over our town, just to come back 2 hours later.

We fly into Midland, and head straight to the hospital to be with Elder Son, his dad, aunt, and cousin.  When we arrive, Nanny has been stabilized to the point that she can be moved into ICU.  We all gather in the waiting room, and then, 2 by 2, get to go into her room to see her.  She’s awake, and communicating...I’m grateful.  We love this woman!

ThatManILove and I head home, hug the WonderDogs, and hit the sack. 

Today will find us at the emergency room, working on Elder Son’s leg.  We covet your prayers, for healing for both Elder Son, and his Nanny.

It’s never boring around here.  


Sunday evening update:  The ER Doc drained 120cc (for some reason, that is all he would drain) of fluid from Elder Son's knee; the Doc doesn't think his knee is infected.   Nanny seems to be coming around and reports have her sitting up eating a meal this afternoon.  Thanks for your prayers!

Powered Down and Holding...

This is the ol’ I’m having trouble getting back to my blog whine.  Wah.  Okay, I’m done with that post, now on to bigger and better things.  (Quickest ever, huh?)

This is our first weekend por las casa with absolutely no plans.  A friend came in to see us, but basically, we’ve done not one thing but visit, and eat.  And visit, and eat.  And the guys have played guitars, and I’ve taken some pictures.  We’ve gone to the dog park.  ThatManILove’s about to put a burn on some salmon a la grill, our boys should make an appearance sometime this afternoon, and play some of their songs for our friend,  and then....we’re gonna eat. 

It’s been a restful, fun weekend.  Powered down, fun, quiet times. 

So good.

How about you?

Secret Santa....As Yet to Be Revealed!

Little mother-son talk while I'm downloading pictures...and I snuck in a couple of shots! "Mammarazzi!!", he says. He cracks me up.

I think I received my Secret Santa Soiree box.

I say I think, because I've not yet opened it.

Tomorrow afternoon, I will, I promise. And I'll post the little Linky thingie.

Elder Son threw a wrench in my plans...by announcing he now has a job at Angel Fire as a ski instructor. And he has to be there...yesterday. Needless to say, when he hit town last night, we got busy. And busier, today.

Here, he is packing his truck, my son of many vocations! Anyone need some ski lessons in Angel Fire, NM? Here's your man!

All is well, he's enroute. And I'm a little sad he won't be here for Christmas - but he's only young once, right!??

The Little Horse Who Wouldn't

This morning, my phone rang. It was Elder Son, though I could barely understand him.

ES: Mom.

Me: Yeah, babe?

ES: Mom, I had to ...call you. (He’s hesitating, sounds like he’s crying.)

Me: What’s up? Is SOMETHING WRONG????

(I can hear all this snuffling, and scuffing around, and some type of weird guttural noise.)

ES: Jason and I are having to load these little...(more snuffling, weird sounds) miniature horses that Jason’s granddad bought for Jason’s kids at the livestock auction, and...and...(mumbles off into nowhere, and I can hear him laughing and trying to catch his breath.)

(I can hear Jason laughing out loud.)

Me: What? What's going on?

ES: Well, Mom, it’s just that.....(fades into laughter again. He finally composes himself)...we got all the horses loaded except for...(and off he goes again) except for this (Jason laughing his butt off in the background)

Me: (I start laughing, too.) Tell me! Finish your sentence!

Now, I ask you, how stupid is that, that I start laughing? I can’t even see them, I don’t even know what’s happening. But I can imagine. Jason isn’t a tall guy, but Elder Son tops out at 6’4”...one tall lean bean. And a miniature horse, much less 7-8 of them? Just the visuals are funny!

Me: Elder Son! Finish, please?

ES: Mom....I can’t....it’s just that, I’m really trying...okay, give me a second....okay....we’ve been trying...trying to...(and he dissolves into man giggles again.)

I just sit there, grinning like a cheshire cat. I don’t know what it is, but I know it’s going to be good. It’s gonna be one of those worth the wait ones. I wait.

He finally calms down a little bit.

ES: Mom, we’ve got all these teeny horses loaded in this honking huge trailer, ( and they're laughing again, they’re losing their voices)...(they finally catch their breath and ES resumes) except for (bustin’ gut laughs now) the little stallion. (And he cracks up again.)

Me: The what?

ES: The stud miniature horse, Mom. He’s a stubborn little &*O(^)%(&.

Me: Oh, Lordy me (I really started laughing now)!

ES: Oh, Mom, we are so frustrated. We tried to herd him up with the rest of the horses. He’d get halfway up the ramp, which is really short to the ground, then fall off. He’d just tip over. He’s really fat. We’d start again - he’d back down the ramp. He did not want to go. Then, we tried to lead him up. No go. Then, I led and Jase pushed. That didn’t work. So, Jase led, and I pushed. (Laughter. Then escalating laughter.) That didn’t work, either.

And now, Mom, the horse is mad. He’s snorting at us and pawing at us - it is so funny, the little thing! (Uncontrollable laughing from both he and Jase.)

(By now, tears are running down my face and I’m having trouble breathing!)

And then, Mom....(giggles)....I finally got so frustrated I tried to pick the little b*st*rd up and throw him in the trailer. (huge laughter.)

Me: What? You tried to pick him up?

ES: Yessssssssss...(fades into sputters and they’re off again, laughing hard!.)

Me: Did it work?

ES: Hell, no, Mom, it didn’t work (and they crack up into laughter again), he weighs 400 pounds and he was thrashing around and trying to get away!

Me: Oh, Lordy.

ES: I gotta go, Mom, we gotta figure this out, I just had to call you.

And he hangs up laughing.

I talked to him this morning. They finally got the little stud horse loaded into the trailer. Elder Son and Jason physically picked up the horse, together, and stuffed him in the trailer.

Elder Son is still laughing.

Me, too!

Turning and Burning (A Team Roping Term)

This is Elder Son, after he took his steer down to the catch pen. It's dark, indoor arena lighting is kind of weird, and it was a while before I figured it all out. It forced me to get away from my Canon 40D and to utilize my full-frame Canon 5D Mark II. (Remember, I've had zero professional training.) And now, I love it - the 5D!

Two of the three men in my life - ElderSon and ThatManILove, discussing the price of tea in China - oh, no, that's not right! They're talking about horses. Specifically, high dollar Team Roping horses. (And, yes, ladies, this is one of the things y'all have been oohing and aahing about...cowboy butts in cowboy jeans. Cougars Be Gone!!)
Elder Son heading, Steve Taylor heeling. Making The Turn - and yes, they caught their steer and had a time, which took them into the short-go for this rotation.

This was shot 1 before the prior shot. Somehow, I can't get them in order from my Mac. I think it's something to do with Safari.

I caught this shot of Elder Son, watching the roping from the stands after his first rotation. I like it...a lot. I love catching natural shots.

Anyway, there are more, but I won't bore you with the roping shots. I love watching team ropings, but most people don't. They don't understand a good roping run involves at least 5 athletes...two horses, one steer, and two ropers. It is a finely tuned dance, if executed properly, and is beautiful.

Happy Trails!

Team Ropers a la Familia!! (A post not about dogs!)

It's a good thing I made my 30 day challenge and now it's over! I just realized I haven't posted in three days.

Well...that's okay! Tonight Elder Son will rope in a local benefit roping. Here's hoping my photography skills are still intact on team roping shots. I used to help pay our bills by taking roping action shots when Elder Son and I were on our own. And I want some of my own shots of my kiddo roping!

ThatManILove and I went to a friend's house and watched Elder Son rope this morning. Now, ThatManILove is wanting to learn how to team rope. When will I learn?

So, off ThatManILove and I go to the team roping. Tonight, registration, dinner and dance. Woohoo! Tomorrow, a oilfield sponsored cookoff, along with Cowboy Church, then team roping, all day long. At least it's in an air-conditioned indoor arena. More proof there is a God, and He definitely cares about Ropers and Horses! (And ropers' moms!)

Here's a shot when Elder Son wasn't quite so elderly (maybe 4) - and the horse was extremely well behaved. Ha!

Have a great weekend - and turn 'em and burn 'em, cowboy!

Mamarrazi Strikes Again!!

Meet Lady E, the precious young lady who graces our lives (and that of Elder Son!).  Lady E graduated yesterday from Texas Tech University.  Congrats to you, Lady E!  We're proud of you!

Elder Son acts like he gets tired of Mamarrazi (his name for me)...but he really likes it. Anyway, don't they make a beautiful couple? 

I took a ton of pictures yesterday.  This morning, I called Elder Son.

Me:  Hey, dude.  Wake up!  

Elder Son:   Okay.

Me:  Hey, the pictures are great.  I sent them to you via Snapfish.

Elder Son:  I'll look at them when I get up.

Me:  Okay.

Me:  One more thing.

Elder Son:  Yeah, Mom?

Me:  I hate to inform you of this, but Lady E's prettier than you.

Elder Son:  Whaaaattt?

Me:  Lady E's prettier than you.

Elder Son:  Just this time.

He's such a smartass.  And I don't have a clue where that comes from.

Mattress Sandwich

Elder Son was in the area, roping with friends, and jumped truck at Lubbock.  So, Thursday night found us picking him up there, and bringing him home for the weekend.  We tarried too long, and got home to Midland around midnight.  Then we picked up a bit for the housecleaners, and went to bed.

Unbeknownst to me, ThatManILove had gone on a cleaning of the bedroom spree earlier that day.  Our bed - a Big Huge California King Sleigh Bed - was pulled out from the wall. I commented on such, and TMIL confessed to tackling the dust demons under and behind the bed.  (Such things are obviously beyond our house cleaners, but I digress.)

We pushed the bed back up against the wall, and got in bed.  Immediately, Zack the Wonderdog jumps in the bed, and demands to be “under his blankie.”  (Which is, by the way, a blanket on top of our comforter.)  This action places him right around where my knees go in the bed.  

And, voila!  Zack snuggles down in the bed, deep mooooaaaannnns of delight, and immediately starts snoring.

ThatManILove looks at me, and says, “Need me to move Zack?”  I tell him no, that I’ll move over closer to him.  I snuggle up to him for a second, then tell him, “Wait.  This isn’t going to work.  I have to be able to stick my foot out of the bed if it gets warm.”

(I know.  Don’t even say it.  That’s what hormones do to you when you’re my age.)

So, I skooch back over to my side of the bed, and we move Zack to the middle.  He never wakes up.  We lay back down.

And immediately hear this weird deep moaning sound.  Loud.  Louder. And then the moan escalates, both in volume and up an octave or two.  We’re looking at Zack, then realizing it’s not him, at each other.  I’ve got chill bumps on my arms.  Do we have a freakin’ ghost? Is Zanna having a bad dream?  Oh, Lord!  Is the air conditioner kicking the bucket?   (You’d be amazed at the thoughts that shoot through your brain in a second or two)

And then...

HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING SQUEAL!  followed by a 

BAMMMMMMM!  

CRASHHHH!

BOOM!

The.

Bed.

Cratered.

Oh, yes it did.

And all three of us - ThatManILove, Zack, and myself - all roll into a Deep V that now suffices for what was our top mattress.

I immediately start giggling.  ThatManILove - cussing.  

And Zack?  Still snuffling and snoring away.  He doesn’t even wake up.

Thank God Elder Son was around.  We have one of those Denver Mattresses, and baby, a California King top mattress ain’t light.  Especially when two of you...the mother and son two of you...are laughing so hard you can't stand up.

We moved the upper mattress to determine the extent of the damage.  Guess what supports a California King Denver Mattress, under the twin box springs?

Three 2X2 slats.  Screwed into the frame.  And attached to each of them, one 3X3 leg. Two of which had bent when ThatManILove went into his cleaning frenzy,  causing the bed to lose support and the slats to break in half.

We wedged them back up, supported them (with all those books I’ve promised you I’d give away on this blog), put the mattress back on and ThatManILove went back to sleep.

That was a miracle in itself - but I finally quit laughing long enough to go to sleep myself.

One Score And Eight Years Ago

These pix are posted just to assist in setting the tone for this most serious post.  (Not really.  They're meant to go towards the end of the post, but this.damn.Macbook.  Arrrrrgh.)  Okay, back to these pix.  Elder Son. Christmas.  Playing with knives (and scabbards.  I know.).   It's all show, the blowhard. He's about the farthest thing from a gangsta you can get.  (Now, wait.  He's not gay or anything.) (Not to offend any gay gangstas...chill.) Hell. Let's just read on.

Twenty-eight years ago today, just past midnight, I was the most excited mom in the world – you had just been born. My son. My long-awaited firstborn. I knew your name years before you drew your first breath of air.

We’ve been through much together - love, heartbreak, excitement, and more! I’ve been your mother, your comforter, your playmate, your encourager, and your biggest fan. You’ve been my son, my comforter, my playmate, my encourager, and my biggest fan.

You are one of the funniest people I know – you’re a born entertainer, and people far and wide love you. You make friends easily, from all walks of life, and keep them forever. You’re quick-witted, and fun-loving. You have a heart of gold.

I have enjoyed watching you over the years as you mastered the art of showing dogs, goats, whatever would go into that show ring at the end of a rope. And then, finally, you were old enough to show steers – and went on to win shows all over the nation. (Remember when ThatManILove first saw your awards? He said, “Well. The Ego has landed.”) Now that you’ve grown past stock showing age, you’re passing on your skills to your little half sisters. I love that about you, and I love how those beautiful baby girls love you right back. I remember from age 1 1 /2 how you loved to dress as a rodeo clown, and won many a rodeo clown contest. They were always putting your photos in the paper.I remember when we were on the youth promotions committee at the rodeo and I looked for you and couldn't find you.  When I found you, you were down on your knees, a 6' tall 14 year old, teaching 3 little kids how to do the macarena, just to keep them occupied until it was their time to participate. I love how you love hunting, shooting, roping, dancing, wakeboarding, snow skiing, and a million other things. I love watching you play the guitar, and playing alongside Younger Son and ThatManILove. I love how you love Younger Son and That Man I Love. I love it when you play and sing one of your songs, and they join in, and vice versa. I love how music makes your world go round.

Remember when you were a senior, and you took me dove hunting, and we were on the mule, waiting for flybys by the flowline? And we turned around, there were about 50 dove on the ground, drinking water, within 5 feet of us? We got tickled, gave up, went back to the house and got the coyote hunting equipment (including the tape of those squealing rabbits?).

I love when we go on vacation that you’re content to chill with us with zero agenda but to all be together. I love that music flows through our family and is one of the ties that bind. I love how the four of us attend concerts together. I know the time we spend together is something precious; rest assured I never take it lightly.

I loved watching you at Christmas when you opened your annual trick package, saw how it was Mac software, and could say nothing but “Sh*t! Sh*t! Oh, Sh*t!”, knowing the MacBook had to be the next present. (It’s cool to see that no matter how old you get, you have never lost the ability to get excited. ) Then, when it’s “KnifeTime” and we break out the annual gift of knives to you and Younger Son, you immediately discern the hours of workmanship and excellence that someone put into making that knife. It’s a work of art, and you recognize and appreciate the art. Then, we get a different, more reverent type of “Oh, Sh*t!”

When ThatManILove and I got married, you were traveling all over Kingdom Come, rodeoing. When you got into town, you had horses and a underage girlfriend in tow...and due to circumstances beyond all of our control, combined with inclement weather, y'all ended up going on our honeymoon with us? And you and ThatManILove ended up staying at the Stockyards in your truck with the horses nearby in pens, while your girlfriend and I occupied the honeymoon suite? Yes. Just so you don't forget - I postponed my honeymoon for you, doofus. I love you.

You and I often trade high scores at the shooting range, but I suspect you let me win. (But if I find out that’s the truth, I will hurt you. Remember, I brought you into this world, I can certainly take you out.) I remember one time you said, when we were at a range, “Mom. This sucks. They have all these father-son shooting events…why don’t they have a mother-son shoot? You and I could so rock that!” The range owner has never forgotten that comment, and always brings it up. Each time, I’m reminded how blessed I am and how much I love you.

In more recent years, I’ve seen you gain much maturity. (I knew it would happen sometime!)

I can’t believe the years have passed and you’re nearing thirty years of age. I should be feeling old, but instead, I’m expectant and my heart soars when I think of you. I know this is only the beginning of your life, and there is more to come. If it’s anything like your past, it should prove to be good entertainment. I’m still as excited for you and your future as the day you were born. It has been my good fortune to come to know you, and I know it. Thank you for that.

Happy Birthday, Elder Son. I love you more!

Sync'd - the Alternative Punk'd

Nobody told me that there would have to be a synchronization period before ThatManILove and I would be back to our “oneness”. I think I've been punk'd. Where the hell is Ashton?

I guess 3 1/2 months is a long time to be apart.

After Christmas Day with our Littles (as in Big Brothers Big Sisters), we took Zack and Zanna to the dog park. Then, we decided to go to the late late movie – the four of us. It was fun. Until we got home and ThatManILove and Younger Son decided to have a “discussion,” eventually drawing us all in. Nothing like a little conflict on Christmas Night. Elder Son intervened and brought some clarity to the situation. Finally, everybody kissed and made up.

Since then, our house has been the setting for a comedy of errors.

This morning, I decided to let MLH sleep in. So, I got up with the dogs at 5:45 a.m.. They did their “business” and I begged them for a few more hours of sleep. They complied, until about 9:45 a.m., when they told me they were “Starving, Mom! Just starving! You never feed us! Where’s the number to PETA?”

(What. What? Your dogs don’t talk, I take it? Well, B.S. You have to channel your inner Dog Whisperer. Mine is called Cesarina. She’s a short Hispanic chica who does some mean rollerblading. She has zero problema being the pack leader, if you get my drift.)

Back to this other crap.

I decided to let ThatManILove catch up on some ZZZZ’s ‘cause that’s how I roll. When he woke up, we ran the dogs for a bit, and then decided on flights back to the PA. I started some laundry, threw a roast in the oven for supper, and decided I needed to take a break…

Just about the time ThatManILove decided we needed to be 100% packed at 2 in the afternoon so we would be ready to roll to Dallas at 9 a.m. tomorrow. I mean, he was getting all antsy about it!

MLH: I think we need to pack, really, Jane.(he only calls me that when he’s mad.)

Jane: Dude. I can so pack in twenty minutes. I’m getting good at it since you’ve been gone.
(for you newer readers, he usually packs for me - and he's damn good at it!)

MLH: Since all my stuff is still in the PA, we’ll both pack in the same bag.

Janie: Let’s see. I have to take 6 days worth of clothes, and makeup, and all that entails, and we’re going to pack in the same bag. Guess it’s going to be pretty warm up in the PA. Think shorts and T-shirts should do it?

MLH: Jane.

Janie: I’m really needing a nap. I haven’t had any down time in forever. Are you good with that?

MLH: I want us to get packed.

Right.

Later, I’m folding clothes and I hear him talking. I realize that he’s talking…to me. From three rooms away. I go into the bedroom, where he’s watching TV.

Janie: Hey, Babe, are you talking to me?

MLH: Yes. Do you know where my socks are? I can’t find any! Y'all have to quit putting my laundry where I can't find it.

Janie: They’re in this drawer, this drawer, and this drawer.

MLH: I’ve got to get all this cleaned up and organized.

Janie: Nothing’s changed since you left for the PA. Nobody's worn your laundry, honey.

Then, supper.

MLH: Do you know where the wine corkscrew is?

Janie: No. That's another coincidence - there’s been no wine consumed here since you left, so it would be pretty safe to say you had it last.

MLH tears into every drawer looking for the corkscrew, griping the entire time. Finally he finds it, in the implement drawer. Later, at the table…

MLH: You know, I’m really not feeling a “welcome home.”

Janie: Are you kidding me? (And that’s all I’m going to say about that conversation.)

Later on, I’m counting the 18 Robert Earl Keen tickets to the concert we’re going to miss, trying to decide to mail them to the attendees, or to give them to John and Suzan for distribution, or split them up between Mike and Pam and John and Suzan for further distribution between all the people that are going without us to the concert, or go by Bass Performance Hall and put them at WillCall, or what. I have tickets all over rows D and E, and trying to figure out who gets what.

MLH: Girl. How many times are you going to count those tickets?

Janie: I’m just trying to figure it all out since I don’t quite have a fix on who’s taking who.

MLH: You need to go pack, seriously, Jane.

I finish with the tickets, and go into the bedroom to start packing, and…

He sleeps. And he looks so dang cute when he’s curled up like that, with his head resting on his hands. Arrrrrrrrgh!

We gotta get sync’d up before we head to the PA – or that ride home will be the longest in the history of rock and roll.

Christmas, Revisited

It’s late Christmas night.

ThatManILove and our sons are at here at home. All is well with my world. Zack and Zanna the Wonderdogs are asleep on their pillows at my feet. Thanks so much for all your love, comments and support. I know full well y’all helped me on a daily basis - and I appreciate each and every one of you.

ThatManILove finally arrived at 6 p.m. last night, after all sorts of weather delays. Younger Son and I went to the airport to pick him up. I stayed outside with the vehicle, and Younger Son went in to meet his dad at baggage claim. They hadn’t seen each other in almost 5 months. It was a sweet, sweet reunion - both came out the door with huge smiles on their faces.

Elder Son arrived around 8 p.m.. He was in the house about 3 minutes before all the guitars came out (shout out to Tricia - you would have loved it!). Mom-in-Love and her husband came and joined us for supper and presents.

We have a tradition we share with our sons. Every Christmas, we give them each hand made knives. This year, we introduced them to another knife-maker’s wares - Tippy Knives, made by Jason Tippy from Monahans, Texas. Jason is a youth pastor, and makes the most wonderful knives. Early in 2008 we asked him to make knives for our sons. He not only did so, he numbered them 1 & 2, and we get to name the series. This will happen every year. A new tradition within a tradition! The boys flipped a coin to determine who would get gift #1, then opened the respective gifts. They flipped out. Next year, whoever got #1 will get #2, and vice versa. After the knives were admired and shown around the room, it was time for the other gifts. Our sons were surprised last year by tickets to the James Taylor concert in Lenox, Massachusetts.

This year? I’ll let the pictures do the talking. (When Mamarazzi's around with her camera, they always think they have to make faces.)

Yup. New Mac Books. Oh, yeah...and Booth? Now you can talk to Elder Son about his gifts! Love ya, man!

We’ve had a great time, late breakfast this morning, spaghetti tonight, and now we’re heading to the movies.

Merry Christmas to each and every one of you.