Christmas Acrostic

C - Christ came to become one of us.
H - Holy time to worship Him
R - Redeemer of sinful humanity
 I  - In the town of Bethlehem
 S - Shepherds, ordinary people, were told first.
 T - Temple Presentation of Jesus on the eight day.
M - Mary, His dear, courageous mother.
 A - Angels proclaimed the good news of great joy.
 S - Savior and Lord

J - Joseph, His loving earthly father.
O- Oh Come Let Us Adore Him!
Y - You can have Christmas Joy; Just say "Yes!"

Peyton

Everyone has heard that it's a good thing kids are born to the young, because they have the energy to keep up with them. There's a cliche in there somewhere, but I can't recall it. See, that's what I'm talking about! We took care of our younger granddaughter a few days this week, and even had her for the night. It seemed every little task or activity was harder than it used to be when we were young and raising her mother.
Check out her beautiful, blue, wild eyes and the dressed-up, also wild-eyed Dakota, the family dog. The night before, Peyton climbed into bed around 8:00, and the next morning was up at 5:45! Every  activity pictured was finished before 8:30 a.m.

Dressing up Dakota

Her own mixture for baked ornaments:
salt, flour, oatmeal, rice krispies, tea.

Breakfast of French toast

She painted and decorated this paper
plate Christmas tree.

Math in the Weekly Reader

I read three library books to her.

She built a fort out of the couch

 .

She read books to herself.

We also watched Tom and Jerry Christmas. Needless to say, Peyton is a human dynamo, and Grandmother is working hard to keep up!  I love it

Turkey Trots

Another Thanksgiving Day has come and gone, and with it came many thoughts of years gone by.
 So many of those memories seemed to focus on The Turkey.  One of my earliest memories of doing the actual cooking of the bird is such a cliche; I left the little baggies of slimy turkey body parts inside the cavities. There was actually no harm done, just a little blow to my self esteem when I pulled the steaming mess out, providing a good laugh to my waiting diners.

Then there was the fatal hour early one Thanksgiving morning when after carefully preparing the turkey by removing the baggies (whew) and stuffing "Tom" with fragrant and hot dressing,  I realized the oven had not come on. I frustrated myself for awhile trying to trick it in to firing up, but ended up brainstorming with my daughter about what to do. We finally came up with a plan to call a friend. The call went something like this; "Hi Marie... Are you cooking a turkey today?... No? May we cook ours in your oven?" She promised to leave the front door unlocked, and we drove two miles, lugged the roasting pan up the walk, and found a locked door. Thankfully the back slider was open and we got the turkey going, saving that Thanksgiving day. Thanks dear friend!

While those memories bring a smile, the last one I'll write about still makes me cringe in disbelief even though I think I've forgiven myself for the debacle. We were joyfully planning a weekend in a Big Bear condo with Don's brother, my beloved sister-in-law, and their kids.  Our own three children were thrilled to get to spend two days with their cousins, and did their own packing.
My only dinner related task was to bring the turkey, while Valerie, a great cook, was preparing all the sides. I will blame my lapse of thinking on the fact that as a teacher, I had to work 'til 3:30 on Wednesday, leaving little time for planning. Long story short, I took a frozen twenty pound turkey up to Big Bear on Thanksgiving morning. It took hours, and hours to defrost, as everyone waited with empty stomachs and hopeful peeks into the kitchen. Finally, at least eight hours later than anyone expected, we got dinner on the table.
They always say turkey helps a person to sleep better, and that night it was true as we went from the dinner table to bed.

Just the shortest blog ever to say "Happy Thanksgiving!"

An Evening at Union Station

This morning, after a reasonable night’s sleep, we’re laughing over the event which I’ll call “An Evening at Union Station.” Since my brain isn’t quite awake yet, this will undoubtedly be a rambling account.

          We took the Amtrak from Oceanside to Los Angeles yesterday in order to spend time at Olvera Street, and later visit the Japanese American Museum in Little Tokyo where we met our son, Dan, for dinner.

           When our day was almost over, Dan accompanied us back to Union Station on the Gold Line, and we settled down to wait  half an hour for our train.  We were enjoying the parade of “the beautiful people” who were arriving at the station for a real runway-type fashion show when an announcement came over the loud speaker, “Those passengers on train 790 to San Diego will have a TWO HOUR delay.” No explanation, just the facts, ma’m.

          Urging Dan to leave as he has a life of his own, we found comfortable chairs and cookies and milk to help our moods, and tried to rest. Ha. The runway fashion show was in full, high-decible swing, complete with a wantabe comedian and pounding music.

          An hour and a half later, the show ended and another show began. The women tottering back to the Gold Line to Hollywood were a sight not to be missed! I’ve never seen so many shoes with five inch heels and three inch soles in so many styles in my life. Just to describe a few: Red velvet, green velvet, orange alligator which encased the woman’s feet like strange, mutant oranges, black patent, pink and clear plastic, and boots to the calves, but at least twelve inches below the hemline of the dress. There were shoes with straps which sort of gave them a torture-instrument look, connected to black soles and of course, five or maybe six inch heels. You get the picture, I think.  Very entertaining but stressful as I kept expecting one of them to fall over..

          THEN, “Passengers on train 790, your train will now leave at 10:15 p.m.”  O.K., we were no longer being entertained, and were slumping in the waiting room seats, when a uniformed guard came up and demanded to see our train tickets! When we asked why, she replied, “We are checking for vagrants and homeless who try to sleep in the station.” I kid you not.  I guess we weren’t looking our best, but come on, this was a real case of adding insult to injury. So we showed our tickets, and decided to walk over to where the line would form. Suddenly, an Amazon leaped out of the Amtrak office and yelled, “Train 790 is loading on track 10!” and almost everyone left in the station sprinted down the tunnel.  I was reminded of Dave’s rugby shirt, “Trample the Weak, Hurdle the Dead.”

          Once we got on the train, a train employee told us it wasn’t number 790, but it would get us to Oceanside. Huh? Turned out he was wrong; it was the right train, we got to our station, and back home, just three hours later than we planned.

Education Total

So many hours of my life have been devoted to children and their education, it would take one of those irritating word problems I used to try to teach, to figure it all out! “If a twenty-two year old woman going sixty miles an hour for the next forty-six years, spent ten months of each year in a classroom of thirty-two students, and every evening and weekend thinking about said classroom…  Add to the total, activities involving three children at home, and hundreds of others in church classes…” You get the idea.  

Having had a break from kids for almost three years now, I’ve decided to jump back into education. “If a seventy-year-old woman going thirty miles an hour…”

Don and I volunteer at our granddaughter’s school, giving weekly assessment tests to each student. Since I’m not the child’s teacher, the pressure isn’t on too high, and it’s so gratifying when the youngster recognizes and can write another letter! The best perk is seeing the cutest little blondie in the whole world in her classroom environment.

On Wednesday nights we travel to our church to Faith Kids Clubs, to experience a different kind of teaching.  Excitement reigns supreme in the church gymnasium as a hundred wound-up kiddos play games and sing. When it seems they cannot get any crazier, it’s time to split up into grade levels, and I go with the fifth grade girls to actually be the teacher of important Bible concepts.  It’s such a privilege to teach God’s Word, and so fun to be with one of my all-time-favorite age levels, that the time whizzes by and the evening is over for another week. 

While having my own classroom of thirty children will never again be in my schedule, this venture back into education fulfills that need. The total?   Incalculable!

Best Laid Plans

For at least three months we’ve been planning a trip to the Nixon Museum with a favorite couple. Today was the day we were supposed to meet them there, but yesterday, Marc called and said there was a tiny problem: Carol had fallen during her usual morning walk and had broken her hip!  Oh my poor, super-active teacher friend, was laid up in the hospital with only two weeks until her classroom must be ready to go. Since we were planning to make the long drive to Yorba Linda anyway, we drove instead to Ontario to visit her after the surgery to put in three pins.

            We found her resting and looking quite lovely, and as still as I’d ever seen her. After discussing how she had somehow tripped on the tiny lip of a driveway in her neighborhood, her prognosis, and how long she would be using a walker (heaven forbid, but necessary), I asked, “How long did you lay on the driveway until you got help?”

She looked sheepish for some reason, and answered, “You’re going to be mad at me… After I found my phone, keys, and walking stick, I…”

            “Yes?” I asked. “That’s when you called 911, right?”

            “Well, I knew I was hurt, but I had a nail appointment to go to, so I hobbled home and asked Marc to take me.”

            “You walked home on a broken hip!!!?? Then you got your nails done, and finally went to the ER?” I was incredulous but not mad. Awed at her strength was more like it. When I had my hip surgery, it was all I could do, during the days just before it, to barely get around!  However, although there was no doubt it didn’t help the break to walk on it,  she was safe and sound, all stitched up, and had even started therapy. She really wants out of the hospital, and I’m sure she’ll make a break, no pun intended, from there as soon as possible. The hardest part now for her is to be calm about not being able to start her own classroom.

          Sometimes, it takes an extraordinary change in our best laid plans to slow us down enough to smell the flowers, appreciate our life, make us contemplate God’s plans for us, or all of the above.