"Christmas is coming and the goose is getting fat..."
I think that goose is me in this scenario.
---training for the mini starts in January.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
We had a wonderful Thanksgiving in AL this year. We thouroughly enjoyed playing on the beach with the boys and visiting with Papa and Bama. It's amazing to me how quickly my boys are growing up!
After we stuffed our bellies with food we walked down to the water. I knew better than to try to tell my two water babies that we couldn't swim because we didn't have swim suits...that would have been a battle i would have certainly lost. So I didn't set any rules and just photographed the fun. Joshua was the first to fall in the water and get completly drenched and Toby quickly followed with a "sympathy" fall. "I didn't want Joshua to feel badly that he fell," Toby explained.
It was a great get away with my boys. I always enjoy thanksgiving and the time set aside to be THANKFUL.
Ozeal
I remember being in my bed one morning and a familiar scent filled my room. It was the sweet scent of cigarette smoke flowing through the house. I knew right away that my grandparents had arrived and that my mom in the tenderness of her heart didn't have the courage to tell them not to smoke in the house. But to me, the sweet aroma of camel lights meant so many wonderful things. The scent meant bolney sandwiches on Wonder bread, hostess cupcakes, Coke and any other treat my heart desired. It meant baseball games in the yard and scratchy "sugar" kisses from my grandfather. It meant dreams fulfilled that only a grandparent could dream up...homemade dollhouses and horse barns, bicycles and a puppy. The cigarette smoke would linger on our clothes and in our hair long after they left. And I loved it.
Just a few weeks ago my grandmother died. A piece of my identity is gone...I am no longer a granddaughter. I thought that her death would bring closure to a long year of mental health battles but instead it has left a hole in our family. My grandmother wasn't the typical cookie baking granny with stories of love and encouragement. She used to pinch my butt and tell me i was fat, and in the last several years has complained that i looked awful and was too thin. When i was eight and learned that smoking causes cancer, I tried to encourage her to stop. I asked her why she smoked and she replied, "Because it's cool." She was never afraid to say what she was thinking. She wasn't afriad to talk politics, basketball, and defend Bobby Knight. She often tried to give back your gifts and complained at your efforts to make things special but I always knew that she loved me and was proud of me. She was a character. At the funeral they called her spunky...it is true. She wasn't storybook typical but she was herself. I laughed during the calling hours at friends and sisters anecdotes of my grandmother. Apparently, her childlike rebellion continued all her life. I learned a lot from her. She had challenges that she rose to with strength and confidence i can only hope for. And when her beliefs were challenged, she chose to love and accept with abandon. I never doubted that she loved me...she loved me, my kids and always recieved us with a smile and the screen door pushed wide open.
Just a few weeks ago my grandmother died. A piece of my identity is gone...I am no longer a granddaughter. I thought that her death would bring closure to a long year of mental health battles but instead it has left a hole in our family. My grandmother wasn't the typical cookie baking granny with stories of love and encouragement. She used to pinch my butt and tell me i was fat, and in the last several years has complained that i looked awful and was too thin. When i was eight and learned that smoking causes cancer, I tried to encourage her to stop. I asked her why she smoked and she replied, "Because it's cool." She was never afraid to say what she was thinking. She wasn't afriad to talk politics, basketball, and defend Bobby Knight. She often tried to give back your gifts and complained at your efforts to make things special but I always knew that she loved me and was proud of me. She was a character. At the funeral they called her spunky...it is true. She wasn't storybook typical but she was herself. I laughed during the calling hours at friends and sisters anecdotes of my grandmother. Apparently, her childlike rebellion continued all her life. I learned a lot from her. She had challenges that she rose to with strength and confidence i can only hope for. And when her beliefs were challenged, she chose to love and accept with abandon. I never doubted that she loved me...she loved me, my kids and always recieved us with a smile and the screen door pushed wide open.
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