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When I was in high school (Norfolk High, Norfolk, NE), during my senior year, one of my best friends was Pam. It was 1976-77. Pam worked at the Hallmark store at Sunrise Mall. I often stopped by to see her and to purchase a Mint Dream.
I loved Mint Dreams. If a person wanted to make me happy, just throw me a Mint Dream. Of course, apparently, not too many people were concerned about making me happy, so I just had to buy them for myself. They were worth it!!!
A couple of weeks ago, we bought some ice cream, some minty kind with Moose Tracks, or whatever. I asked Tim if I could have a bite, since I don't exactly need a whole bowlful. It tasted like a cold Mint Dream. I haven't had, or even seen, a Mint Dream in decades. I decided to look and see if they are still around. They are! And you can buy them individually or by the case!
I'm not going to do it. I just can't. But, if I happen to see one in some store, I'm going to buy it. I encourage you to do the same.
I'm watching the new Ghost Hunters episode, "Hindenburg Crash Site." As soon as I read the title, my mind immediately flashed back to the event it always flashes back to whenever I read or hear "Hindenburg." I realize this is a few weeks late for Thanksgiving, but I just had to share it. I remember the first time I saw this on TV, I was nearly crying from laughing so hard.
Happy Thanksgiving - WKRP Turkey Drop - kewego http://www.sharkhost.com Happy Thanksgiving from Sharkhost.com! This is a blast from the past, WKRP in Cincinnati Famous Turkey Drop. Sharkhost does not own any copyright to this material. Web host, web design, marketing and promotion.
I've actually scrapped a couple of pages these last two days (click for a larger view). I don't know what's come over me! Normally, I'm much better at shopping for kits than scrapping with them. (Shhh! don't tell Tim) I don't especially like to do journaling, but Tim thought the one layout needed some. So, I journaled. Unfortunately, there's one sentence that reads a little weird (I'm sure Evan won't even notice), but I didn't feel like going through the rigmarole to fix it. Just know that I didn't intend to be...insensitive.
I wish I had some current photos to do some Christmas scrapping with, but Bethany's usually the only one around. And, WHY couldn't she be one of those people that LOVES being in pictures! I will have my chance to take some pics when Evan gets here on the 21st, but by then, I probably won't be doing much scrapping. And, shoot! trying to get Brett up here will be a pain, too. It would be so much easier if everyone just lived here! Hmm....don't get me started.
Now, before I close here to go heat some water in the kettle for some of our yummy cocoa - topped with whipped cream, cinnamon sugar, and chocolate chips - I have a question. Probably the seniors will be more likely to know the answer, but I'm not picky.
I'm watching the Kings game. We're currently beating San Antonio, but there's plenty of time for THAT to change. I love our announcers, Grant Napear and Jerry Reynolds. Jerry grew up in that big town, French Lick, Indiana. Perhaps that accounts for this quaint colloquialism of his that grosses me out: "I'm just so thrilled, I'm about to spit up." Really? Must this be spoken aloud? And, is that truly the correct way to say it? Yuck.
Another Saturday. Another KU game on TV. Another Penn State game on TV. Even another U of H game on TV. But, of course, no Nebraska game on TV. What is wrong with people??!! KU and Penn State have been on EVERY WEEK. This is Houston's second game...seriously... I'm more than happy to watch these games. I would just like to have seen the Cornhuskers once or twice - or four times. My helium-filled red and white balloons have been sitting here for a month, the kids - dressed in their cute little Cornhusker attire - eagerly awaiting their first-touchdown release. (Click photo to go to today's game day program)
OK, Evan and Brett don't release the balloons anymore, but at least they used to COULD, because the occasional game was televised back in the day! (Nothin' like watching Nebraska beat the pants off of Texas A&M whilst watching the game with A&M graduates/in-laws...now those were the days, my friends!)
Nebraska is celebrating it's 300th consecutive sellout today. I am thrilled that, for a couple of years, my dad and I were sitting in that stadium - serenaded by the marching band's playing of March Grandioso - contributing to the sellout.
Yesterday was a bit sad for me. I had to say good-bye to my very first car. The first that was my own, that is. We bought this 1992 Toyota Camry DX from an older gentlemen in some city around Los Angeles. I had only been in California a couple of days. I didn't know where we were that night, and I still don't know in which city we were. The year was 1998.
The Camry had always been garaged. I don't think anyone but the old man ever rode in the car. Well, maybe his wife once in a while. The back seat looked brand new. The whole car looked brand new!
I loved that car.
Until the boys got a hold of it, which happened to be right around the time Evan started driving. A couple of years later, it was Brett's turn. It's amazing how little time it takes kids to ruin a perfectly perfect car. Oh, they never wrecked it in an accident. Hmm...Tim did, come to think of it. In a parking lot in Torrance. Just the right headlight. But, I digress. No, it was the inside that was destroyed by kids, sports equipment jammed all over the place, food, drink...kids wrestling around with all of the equipment, food, drink.
And then, you know what happens. The car is yucky!!! And the kids, who made it so, don't want to ride in THAT car.
Oh, well. For a couple of years, it was truly perfect. I will miss it. It's almost all that I had left of my wonderfully fantastic time in San Pedro. Well, that and Tim, I guess.
Today, Evan turns 25 years old. A quarter of a century...starting to get old, Dude! Evan mentioned, tonight, that he's already started slowing down. Sheesh. And, since he wasn't able to come home for his big day, I had no choice but to use previous birthday photos (click photo for a larger view - new baby Brett - Brettie Boy - is in the background of the middle picture).
Evan was an easy infant. Oh, we had our temper tantrums (him, not me....hello!). And, there was his absolute refusal to sleep between sunset and sunrise for several years. His having to be rocked to sleep every night until the night after his first day of Kindergarten (which occurred around his sixth birthday - held back for love, as they said on Everybody Loves Raymond - seriously. I would have held him back forever, if I could have) could occasionally get a bit, well, old. Took a few weeks to work out the kinks, but once that happened, I was pretty spoiled with a good, happy baby. As Evan began walking and talking, to my utter delight, he was hilarious! It was absolutely fascinating to experience how his mind worked. Evan was a sweet boy, he minded pretty excellently, and he absolutely adored me. Ah, yes! Those were the days, my friend!
Well, I could go on and on, but I won't. Evan doesn't even read this blog. Just wanted to spend a little time thinking about my first baby on his birthday.
I was going through my Google reader this morning and happened upon this blog entry: "No Shoes Mommy." Go read it - it's pretty funny and will just take a few seconds. I couldn't help but think of a similar incident, kind of, that occurred with Evan, when he was about five years old. Evan had not yet started school.
We were visiting my parents in Cherokee, Iowa (it was our annual, summer-long visit). I woke up one morning and walked into the living room, expecting to see Evan watching TV. Brett was still in bed asleep, but Evan had apparently already gotten up.
The living room was totally silent. No TV blaring, no Evan. I picked up a piece of paper that was on the floor, and threw it away. I could see that Evan wasn't in the kitchen. I ran downstairs to the play area and my dad's office. Nope - nobody there.
I ran back upstairs and out the front door. Both of my parents' cars were gone, and there was no Evan. I ran to the backyard. Nothing.
OK, so I'm trying to not freak out, but I was freaking out. I finally decided that, duh, Evan was with my dad! So, I made myself calm down and sat down to wait for them to come home.
About an hour later, my dad walked in the door...alone. I said, "Where's Evan?" He said, "I don't know." I asked, "Evan hasn't been with you this morning?" "No," he said.
All heck broke loose.
Lots of screaming, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, hearts pounding, desperation, nausea....At some point, Evan walks in the front door with my dad. "Where have you been????!!!!!!" I demanded to know. "I went to Evan's house!" (Evan was my Evan's age and lived across the street from my parents.) "You know you can't just leave the house," I said calmly (it's true! I was calm...). "But I left you a note telling you where I was going!"
Now, this made me pause. Evan was not yet reading or writing. I didn't know quite what to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. So, I'm standing there looking into little Evan's precious face, and I vaguely remember a piece of paper on the living room floor. I went to the trash can, took out the paper, and looked at it. Letters of the alphabet were scattered across the paper. I asked Evan if the paper was his note. "Yes," he said. "See? 'I'm going to Evan's house'," he pointed to the letters as he read.
Oh, my goodness! How cute was that!! That child never ceased to amaze me!
I still had to discipline him. He was so confused. "But, I left you a note!"
When the kids were little, we would spend the summer with my parents - Lincoln, NE, Cherokee, IA, and Larned, KS. I think it started when Evan was almost two (1986) and continued until 1998, which is when we moved to California. I wish it had never ended, but I think it's twice as far from out here. In any case, those were fantastic summers. I was thrilled to get home for these visits not only to spend time with my family, but it was the only way the kids were going to get to know their Grandma and Grandpa and uncles (it was too far to make more than one trip each year).
Every summer now, Evan flies home, usually at the end of May or first of June. This year, however, was different. Since Evan graduated from college, he had to do some job hunting before he could come out. I didn't know when he'd make it out here, so I wasn't talking much about his flying out yet. I guess, because of my silence, he decided to once again try to convince me to let him drive out. His plan, since graduating from high school, has been to drive from Houston, through Kansas (to visit Aunt Ann like we always did back in the day), go on up to Omaha to spend a couple of days with Grandma and Grandpa, see Uncle Jerry Mark and Uncle Tim, the other Aunt Ann, and Jordan and Jessica. After a couple of days, the trip would continue on to California. I have never let him make this trip. Until now. I don't know what came over me.
Evan made it to Aunt Ann's house in Hutchinson, had car trouble (I don't think a relative of Evan's father has ever made the trip from Houston to Nebraska, Kansas, or Iowa without car trouble, one of the reasons I've dreaded the thought of the whole "road trip" idea), had his truck fixed, then drove on to Omaha. He and Grandpa have played several ABPA baseball games (I think Evan has won every game. What happened, Daddy??!!). This afternoon, Evan and the 'rents trotted on over to Jerry Mark and Ann's house for a visit. They took pictures!
Aside: Yesterday, I texted Evan: "Don't forget to take pictures." Evan's reply: "Of what?" Really, Evan?
I still have to deal with Evan's driving through the mountains to get here. You know, just last week it was snowing in the California mountains. And then, in several weeks, I have to deal with his driving back to Houston. Through the desert. You know what happens to lone travelers in the desert, right? No? You must not see many movies. I am so wishing he would have just flown home!
The whole week has felt weird to me, knowing he's with my family. I keep thinking, "How did it happen that Evan's old enough to drive himself around the country?" The kids should all still be little, I should be sitting in my parent's living room cross stitching or working one of my mom's jigsaw puzzles, my dad should be taking Evan and Brett for a walk around the lake or to buy baseball cards, and Bethany should be chewing on the coffee table (at which time, I would pick her up, set her down, and hand her a baby toy). After dinner, Daddy and I would be going for a ride to look at clouds, old barns, cemeteries, or picking Queen Anne's Lace. Yes, those were the days.
One of the advantages of having an ex-baseball player for a dad is that you end up knowing a lot about baseball - even if you're a girl (what am I saying! I'm more athletic than either of my brothers!). Now, my boys may take issue with that because, for the last few decades I haven't watched a lot of baseball - except for them, when they were in Little League - and they think I'm clueless. But if they could have known me when I was growing up, they would discover I knew just as much as them about, not only the rules of the game, but about who was playing and how they were doing. With just the one TV, all we watched on the weekend was sports - and any other time of the week that they were on. I was familiar with basketball and football, too, but since my dad specialized in baseball, that's what we played just about every day after supper, in good weather.
As an aside, I don't know if Evan and Brett remember, but I was the assistant coach one year for their baseball team. Their dad was the coach. He didn't know diddly about baseball, but with my instruction and guidance, he learned quite a bit - as did those kids he coached. :)
Each summer, my family embarked on a vacation. Many of these vacations included a major league baseball game. (They also often included visiting Indian places, i.e., Anadarko, because Jerry Mark was into that. I don't think we ever took a vacation based solely on my interests, but I wasn't one to complain.) During our Haysville era, we went to quite a few Wichita Aeros games (AAA). I loved those games. Every night, I listened to the Aeros game on the radio. If I got in trouble, one of the punishments was grounding me from listening to the game. Torture!!
It was in Haysville that the Kansas City Royals acquired George Brett and Hal McRae. I loved these guys. (In fact, Brett is named for George Brett.) We often watched/listened to the Royals games, so, with Brett and McRae, they became my official team. I also liked the Pirates and the A's.
After Haysville, we moved to Norfolk, NE. My dad bought the APBA baseball game. Each player selects a major league team to manage. Mine was the Royals, of course. My dad's was the Phillies, of course. Timmy also had the Royals, Jerry Mark the Dodgers, and my mother, the Rangers (although, she rarely played, and why she picked the Rangers, I have no idea). Because I don't remember having trouble with this game, I purchased the game myself a couple of years ago. Well.....there are so many rules!!!! And playing with Tim! Bless his heart. He's not just a few decades behind - he never did baseball. Oops. I'm sorry. He saw the Senators play back in the 1800s when just a wee lad. That's about it.
So, I'm still the Royals. I don't know a single one of the players. I've been told they've had terrible teams the past few years. Tim's the Phillies. Now, we do know a little about some of them - we did watch the World Series last year. But, you know, I have to explain the infield fly rule, errors, pass balls, home plate, etc. We're trying to finish our first game. I can't wait for Evan to get out here to deal with all of this. We've gone three innings in a week. And, I curse myself for not learning how to do the scoring back in the day.
You know, nothing unusual stands out in my mind about those games we used to attend. I do seem to remember some drunk guys a couple of times. More recently, Tim took Bethany, Erica (Tim's daughter) and me to a Dodgers game. The people sitting above us were seeming to be dropping an excessive amount of debris down on us. At first, it was just popcorn and trash. Erica (27 at the time) had never been to a ballgame before. She wasn't appreciating this. I was a bit surprised, myself. I had to explain this wasn't normal. Indeed, it wasn't happening anywhere else. Erica took her place turned backwards in her seat, looking up, warning us as things fell down. As time went by, she began to get a bit upset.
If you know Erica, you know this is not good. For example, when I get upset with strangers, I complain to my family. When Erica gets upset with strangers, she takes it to them. Well, when the ice and liquid started flowing down, I knew I would not be able to keep her in her seat. Sure enough, the next time - there goes Erica! Meek and mild Tim was right behind her! Little Bethany (6 at the time) and I are sitting there like, "Now, what do we do." We finally grabbed the purses - after another drenching - and went to find Tim and Erica. Come to find out, you can't go to a level unless you have a ticket for that level. That was probably a good thing. The stadium workers did get an earful! For some reason, I'm seeing Erica swinging the little souvenir bat around. Could that be right?
The reason for all of these meandering reminiscences about baseball is this You Tube video of Bernie Williams that I saw today at The Riddleblog:
Wonderful grace of Jesus, greater than all my sin; How shall my tongue describe it, where shall its praise begin? Taking away my burden, setting my spirit free, For the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me!
Wonderful grace of Jesus, reaching to all the lost, By it I have been pardoned, saved to the uttermost; Chains have been torn asunder, giving me liberty, For the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me!
Wonderful grace of Jesus, reaching the most defiled, By its transforming power, making him God’s dear child. Purchasing peace and heaven for all eternity; And the wonderful grace of Jesus reaches me!
REFRAIN: Wonderful the matchless grace of Jesus, Deeper than the mighty rolling sea; Higher than the mountain, sparkling like a fountain, All-sufficient grace for even me; Broader than the scope of my transgressions, Greater far than all my sin and shame; O magnify the precious name of Jesus, praise His name!
It's been so long since I've posted a favorite hymn, I'd kind of forgotten that I was doing that. But, the other day, this one, "Wonderful Grace of Jesus," just popped into my head. I wish I could remember what was going on; I think I was just watching TV. I hadn't thought about this song in a long time, but I've been humming it for a couple of days, now.
"Wonderful Grace of Jesus" is a hymn about the fantasticness of God's grace. A celebration of it, I think. Certainly, this grace is a cause for rejoicing and wonder and thanksgiving!
Haldor Lillenas wrote "Wonderful Grace of Jesus" in 1918 (or at least it was introduced then, according to faithalone.org's posting on Mr. Lillenas - a brief history of Lillenas and his songs).
Let's see, my memories of the singing of this in church...well, the chorus was my favorite part and is
quite fun. The tricky part is getting the men to do their part
correctly. :)
The version I've used here is Ray Walker's (of the gospel quartet, the Jordanaires), Wonderful Grace of Jesus, No. 3 Capitol Rotunda, congregational-led singing. It's a bit more pompous than I like (and it irritates me that he comes in on each phrase a second before everybody else - but, you know those quartet dudes!), but I had a feeling I wasn't going to find some hip, new take on this old hymn. Anyway, it makes me feel like I'm singing in the choir, so that's good!
"Wonderful Grace of Jesus," by Ray Walker, is available at iTunes and a number of other places where mp3s are available (not Zune, though, as far as I can tell).
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