I’ve said it before … either I find wolves or they find me.  This time it was in the grocery store.  And clearly I’m a sucker for marketing.  Fortunately the hubs doesn’t have definitive absolutes about what I buy for him.  Scratch that.  He does but this falls under his I-don’t-really-care-which-one purview.  I did not even bother to smell it and scent is very important to me.  I’m guessing they’ve tried to gear this toward teenage boys with the whole “nocturnal creatures” thing.  This would not be the first time I have had something in common with teenage boys … like video games for instance.  I have always loved them and in fact would not date a boy again if I had to spend all night just watching him play in an arcade.  Heck, I even judged Burk on that at Dave and Busters before we were married.  I like dual players but it is also nice to have someone watching you, too.  However I have also always lamented the lack of strong women and/or the roles they have been given in video games.  American feminist media critic Anita Sarkeesian said:

“I love playing video games, but I’m regularly disappointed in the limited and limiting ways women are represented.”

I could not agree more.  So take that you statistical bean counters with your coded algorithms trying to stuff people in stereotypical boxes.  I am NOT some middle-aged woman who mostly does the grocery shopping in the family; I’m looking forward to the latest version of Tomb Raider.  Nevermind that I don’t really have time to play anymore; it’s the thought that counts.  And now if you will excuse me, I am off to buy a two pack of mint dental floss.

As the early heat of this summer rises my mind goes back to the even hotter heat of late last summer and my excitement in ordering our little one’s first ever school uniform.  I went to public schools and wish I could have worn a uniform.  As it was I got made fun of for wearing the same clothes.  However as an adult it taught me not to care if I wear the same thing every day or not.  And I truly don’t — as long as it’s clean.  Pictured here is her Chapel uniform.  She also has shirts monogrammed with her school’s logo, skorts and Crocs for wearing in the garden.  She really is my Baby Doll and I have had more fun putting her little saddle oxfords on and then pairing them with knee highs in the winter.  She has her little red monogrammed school sweater and bows and headbands and tiny white socks that turn down at the ankles.  She was so small they had to special order her size as they did not keep it in stock.  I notice now her jumper has gotten shorter and realize it is because she has grown.  She has sung with her class, learned about the world, played on the playground, gotten into trouble, and celebrated her fourth birthday in her cheerful, nurturing school room.  In this past year she has used scissors to arrange flowers, glue for art projects and she can even write her name!  Sometimes she hums the Montessori song under her breath in the car.  She has been to fun functions at school, holiday parties and to Chapel twice a week all throughout the year.  I thought I would put her in some type of “day camp” this summer but I find I cannot bear to let her go.  Tempus fugit.  American author Nathaniel Hawthorne said, “Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.”  I want those shadows to be filled with happy memories of our time spent together.  I know the shadows from my own childhood still lovingly linger and fall softly over me like a warm blanket, and I am thankful to Mama and Daddy for giving me their most precious gift of all; the gift of their time.

Well everyone is just going to have to forgive me for being so proud on this one.  My karate kid girl is, at 4 1/2, now a brown belt and she broke her first board on her first try!  I AM SO PROUD OF HER!  And I know my father would be as well.  I confess I have always had an interest in the martial arts and, as noted in a past post, I have at least earned my yellow belt thus far in my journey.  When I wandered into that studio a year and a half ago I had no idea about the different types of martial arts and assumed it was Japanese (karate).  To my complete surprise and utter shock I discovered it was South Korean.  My father served eight years in Korea and was awarded the Greek Medal of Honor for his efforts.  Being half Choctaw, he had superlative tracking skills and never lost a man on night patrol.  But I believe his acquired knowledge of South Korean martial arts served him just as well.  He had a wicked bayonet scar down his left leg (which means he saw very close hand to hand combat) as well as having his feet frozen during a particularly harsh snow storm.  He was lucky a Norwegian hospital let him keep his feet but they would always turn blue in the winter.  Mark Ringler never bragged about anything he did, but men came from all over to attend his funeral with tears in their eyes telling me of my father’s bravery and how they owed their life to him.  Mama and I had no idea.  My Daddy died when I was just 28 years old.  He never lived to meet my husband and of course did not get to see our little girl.  But God was gracious in that my child shares his birthday.  I knew in that moment when I discovered what their program was my father would have approved.  I knew he would be so proud, as he reared me no differently than a boy, and I am much better because of it.  So I don’t consider her achievements or mine “cool” or cute; I consider them an honor to my father — following in his footsteps just like his men did on night patrol all those years ago.  English poet and hymnodist William Cowper wrote:

“God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform.  He plants his footsteps in the sea, and rides upon the storm.”

My father followed in our heavenly Father’s footsteps; I intend to do the same and I wish that path for my family as well.  Achukma hoke.

Growing up I remember coloring with my mother.  I loved it so and would spend hours at it.  I have noticed the new trend for “adult coloring books” and how it has been said they promote calmness.  I read somewhere that literally just by smelling crayons one can reduce stress.  I believe it.  For me it’s a scent that takes me back to my childhood; a time when things were slower, softer, kinder, easier.  I remember whenever I was sick I got a new coloring book!  And I had the big deluxe box of 64 Crayolas with the sharpener in the back.  Of course I loved coloring the animals especially.  For some reason though I always colored the cats green.  I did it every time in every coloring book.  I have always wondered if someone did some type of psychological assessment on me what it might mean.  My friend is an art therapist and I am curious as to what she would think about my little one’s coloring.  The thing I find so fascinating about it is that she doesn’t color a whole part with one shade; every piece has at least five colors to it.  I have never thought to do that in my life and she has given me an entire new way of thinking about how to color.  I love it and personally I think it’s very creative (says her mother, I know).  She colors with bold strokes and in different directions.  I always stayed in the lines, stuck with one color for each part, and colored all going the same way.  I am truly delighted every time she shows me something she has done.  American artist Georgia O’Keeffe once said:

“I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn’t say any other way – things I had no words for.”

I have never had a talent for drawing but my daughter has inspired me to color again.  Her efforts have encouraged me to live a little, take more chances, be bolder; to slow down and enjoy the quietness of time more, to stray outside the lines, that it’s OK to change directions, and to use all of the colors in the box.  My little one has definitely made my life more colorful.  And I am so thankful.  Later on I think I shall join her; keep calm and color on.

I love cars.  I have always loved them.  I also love cigars.  My husband, on the other hand, could not care less about either.  Our marriage has always been great in terms of chores because he has a thing about not having dishes in the sink so he always loads and unloads the dishwasher.  I am the “techie” who handles all our electronics and the handy woman who just generally knows how to do stuff.  It works out well for us and we are happy.  My car needed repairs and was JUST out of warranty.  When our trusted guy at the dealership said he could make that sizable bill go away and, due to my low driving mileage, it would be cheaper if I considered leasing, the first thing I did was head for the Lincoln MKX’s.  As I have said, I love cars; pictured here is what I chose and it’s a real beauty.  The ride is noticeably smoother, the tires better, and the sound system like a private concert hall.  This is the second nicest car I have ever driven.  When I met my husband I had a Land Rover but it was a terrible gas guzzler and I felt environmentally arrogant and irresponsible driving it.  So it has been a long time since I have driven a “luxury” car.  And OH how I have missed it!  I have missed the lumbar, all the controls, and the incredible pick up when you need to get on the highway.  Despite the fact that we’re in Texas my black on black car is not even hot.  It has air conditioned front seats!  I’ve had heated seats before but never air conditioned.  I spend a lot of time in my car and it brings me great pleasure to be driving such a sweet piece of engineering again.  I still have my beloved panoramic sunroof and cool dark blue ambient lighting.  Of course it is keyless but now I can even program it to start from my iPhone!  My app tells me how many miles I have driven, oil life, tire pressure, and all sorts of other stuff.  The dashboard gives me the speed limit (VERY helpful) and I officially love my back up camera.  At night when I click the key a lit Lincoln “welcome mat” is projected on both sides of the car.  It is pitiful how much I love it.  American actress Alexandra Paul said, “The cars we drive say a lot about us.”  I hope mine says I love the outdoors, care about the environment, and enjoy using the latest technology.  Some women love clothes, shoes, and handbags.  Just give me a hot car and a good cigar.

I took this picture to remind me of how fervently I prayed for a child; how much I needed to love and hold and care for a little one of my own.  As adults, we seem to lose the joy in the mundane, everyday things that need to be done.  I have vague memories when I was little of Mr. Bubble and letting my imagination take me someplace other than the bath.  It was a world of endless possibilities.  I am trying to be careful not to always rush my little one through this time.  As adults it seems we always need to hurry.  I don’t want to rob her of that dream time … of mermaids and spaceships and hidden treasure.  She has way more squeaky animals than you see pictured here; they just wouldn’t all fit on the windowsill.  The Scooby Doo and Hello Kitty used to hold soap.  Arctic animals frolic with jungle animals, barnyard animals romp with sea creatures, and carnivores are best friends with herbivores.  It is a sort of bath time utopia.  As she has grown, her delight in watching them simply bobble has turned into her verbalizing what each of them are and now to her creating stories about what they do and where they are going.  We made the alligator a dentist, the sheep a clothing designer, the dinosaur is sometimes lonely and looks for a friend to play with, the turtle talks about how important it is to be good to our planet, the sea otter just loves to play and the elephant pours tea for everybody from her trunk.  Whether you have children in your home or not, I think we all need to try and recapture some of the wonder and magic of our childhood.  Dare to dream; to be silly; to slow down.  Legendary American dream maker Walt Disney once said,

“All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.”

I know my dreams came true when God granted me this child.  What are your dreams?  Pray for them; pursue them.  Mine seemed impossible … having someone to see mermaids with, to discover hidden treasure with, and to fly to the moon and back with.  I have gotten to do all of those things and I am looking forward to the myriad of adventures that await.

Asthma.  Fortunately I’ve never had it.  I was STUNNED to find out our four year old has “respiratory airway disease” which, to me, is the equivalent of childhood asthma — something she will hopefully outgrow.  At the time my child had at least five belts in karate and NEVER complained she couldn’t breathe.  It was absolutely unnerving.  Then my husband of almost nine years calmly said, “Oh yeah, I had that as a kid but I grew out of it.”  And I just sat in this doctor’s office with my eyes bulging from their sockets trying to digest it all.  I didn’t really know about inhalers and I had certainly had never heard of a nebulizer.  It was like my world had been turned upside down and I was having to learn a foreign language.  HOW could my child POSSIBLY have this when she never said ONE WORD about not being able to breathe??  It was so serious the doctor very nearly told us we could not take our spring vacation!  So I am now acquainted with Nasonex, Singulair, and Zyrtec in addition to the two vials of liquid I mix in her breathing machine twice a day.  When we started off we had a mask that my brave girl just freaked out over.  She never flinched at a blood draw, going under during an endoscopy and colonoscopy, ALL the horrible prep work that goes into that, or having shots.  But I think I can understand this as I am claustrophobic as well.  The “pipe” isn’t supposed to be used until five or older but thank heaven they let her try it and we were able to switch!  Now she falls asleep with it in her mouth.  I have often looked at my little one and wondered what my pipe smoking great grandmother would have thought.  Of course the two are completely disparate.  The great English playwright William Shakespeare said, “Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.”  With a sigh I pray that she will outgrow this just as my husband, her daddy, did.  In the meantime, at least she has her pipe.

I have owned and operated a petsitting business for 16 years now.  It has brought me a tremendous amount of joy and, I confess, has sometimes been very, very stressful.  Growing up everyone said with my love of animals I should be a vet.  I knew I didn’t have the stomach for it and I was already seriously writing way back then.  Achieving my degree from SMU with a degree in journalism left me floundering between print and broadcast.  I never wanted to be on TV, but I felt print was on its way out — even as early as the mid ’90’s.  So I stumbled into petsitting which allowed me freedom, the ability to stay close to my recently widowed mother, and I was doing something I loved independently.  I have received many, many notes from clients over the years.  Some leave detailed instructions, some say NOT to call because they’ll assume something is wrong, etc.  But I wanted to post a picture of this note because it made me laugh.  It doesn’t seem like much but it is such a tremendous responsibility to care for someone’s beloved pets in addition to their home.  Combine crammed schedules, medicines, special feeding regimens, and the dreaded alarm codes and it proves to be a lot.  When I was single I took my mother around and, especially during the holidays, it gave us places to be when we had none.  I remember looking into other people’s shiny, happy homes as we drove by and wishing it were more than just the two of us.  Now I am married and have a child of my own.  I have written before she is my very best helper and she has said that she wants to be “a doctor for animals”.  She is just 4 1/2 and has the whole wide world ahead of her.  But of one thing I am certain:  my daughter will always have an innate love for all animals.  The French novelist Colette once said, “Our perfect companions never have fewer than four feet.”  Poochas gracias and meowci for allowing me into your homes to care for your beloved companions.

My little one had an end of the year school BYOP(icnic) and it was a lot of fun.  We had our wolf quilt spread across the grass, our wicker picnic basket stocked with goodies, and our hoyden was running wild with a bubble gun.  We could hear the shrieks and laughter as other children chased after the glistening bubbles floating in the air.  It was such an old fashioned thing … and so simple; a picnic.  People were outdoors with phones down and I did not see one kid playing a video game.  The Texas heat was not yet unbearable and time pleasantly slowed.  I can remember SO many picnics on my great grandmother’s quilt with my parents at White Rock Lake; the anticipation of long summer nights just around the corner.  Mama would watch me while Daddy snoozed on his grandmother’s quilt.  I would run and go swing just like our girl did.  We closed the playground down and took the last train out … literally, on Stanley the Steam Engine.  Pictured here is our little one happy, red-faced, and disheveled after having taken her seat on the train.  Nutrition and fitness consultant Liz Applegate said, “There’s something for everybody at Picnic Day.”  Indeed there was; BYOP was not just a bring your own picnic; it was family, food, and fun.

My little one’s school had a photographer come as a thank you for moms who had volunteered during the year.  When I told Maris she said she wanted to wear her Chapel uniform (their most formal) and I was so pleased she wanted to have her picture with me.  Her school has a beautiful organic garden complete with a bridge under which fish placidly swim and flowers upon which newly hatched butterflies land.  It cannot be said enough:  I adore a theme.  So this year my little one had all things fox.  She had a fox lunch box, a fox water bottle, a fox backpack, and a fox nap mat.  She even had a fox ice pack and fox reusable sandwich bags.  And all the stickers I put in her belongings of course had foxes next to her name.  So I decided to wear my fox sweater in her honor.  She adores it because it is of a mommy fox kissing her baby.  Since we have wolf hybrids, I love coyotes and foxes which are their cousins.  The famous Roman writer Horace, said, “A picture is a poem without words”.  I find myself uncharacteristically without words but I can say what this picture exudes for me — and that is love; love for my clever little fox.