Monday, June 11, 2012
Grandma's finally home. Who lets an 82 year old drive 1200 miles round trip alone? "You tell that daughter of yours," Grandma's physician told her, "to let you do exactly what you wanna do."
As if this headstrong woman could be stopped? Y'all ever met her? This Saturday she's heading off to Alaska. "I'll pay your way, if you wanna go," she offered me last winter, and I thought about it for about two seconds, but then came back to my obvious reality. As if. I can't even walk alone up to Yolie's house without being texted by a 16 year old son who has some pretty extreme social anxiety, "When are you coming home?" he'll wail.
Got to see Daniel and Megan last night, had my weekly touch base phone call from Sergi who's, as usual, working two jobs.
On Jesse's blog I found this picture of him from his time in Iraq. Back then I had to shut my mind down to not fret constantly over him, seeing it blows me away. He should've been the poster child for Best 12 /12 Year Old Boy Ever Adopted. Lena'd nominate him for Best Husband Award, his son Isaiah'd campaign for Best Dad Medal. Jesse's awesome, flat out wonderful. I Adore him with a capital A.
I miss him immensely and will finally get to see him in just four more months. As a kid here in my home he was never hateful, never ugly, certainly never dangerous, just worried sick over his very challenging sibling group. When he wanted to move to New York with his wife after the Navy, Yolie and I encouraged him to do so, knowing he needed to get away, but it was with a heavy, heavy heart as he's so deeply loved and greatly admired by every member of our family. He's just that kind of man. I cried in my laundry room over him leaving.
I'm blessed to be his mom.
And rain? Yeah boy, we've gotten some fairly beneficial showers that I apparently didn't jinx by re-planting what our annual drought has knocked out. I carefully put my jade plant collection outside to be rained on last night, jades I've slowly propagated for many, many years now. This is part of my horticultural therapy.
I love Twitter. I follow a ton of sustainability sites, news, personal finance, religion, and weather thus ensuring there's always a link to read on my phone about something when I'm stuck sitting somewhere.
One of my favorite twitter feeds, Eat This Not That, told me this morning than a cinnabon had the same amount of calories as 7 White Castle hamburgers. I've never had either one. I can eat a mountain of Swiss Chard for minimal calories and exponential phytochemicals that benefit one's strength, immune system and acuity.
I had to google a cinnabon, thinking they'd misspelled Cinnamon Bun.
"No one in my class knows what Swiss Chard is," Tabby explained to me one afternoon.
"Well that puts you ahead of the pack," I responded, immediately irritated at a populace that'll watch a show entitled, Pretty Little Liars, yet doesn't realize potatoes grow underground and not on a tree. Do folks live under rocks?
I'd pulled a buncha seeds that'd burrowed to the bottom of my seed drawer, loose and unlabeled, telling Tabby, "Let's toss these four o'clock seeds out in the front garden before it rains."
"Those aren't four o'clock," she solemnly informed me, making me quizzically second guess myself.
She immediately darted down the long back hallway and scampered into the Big Back Garden where I've not replanted four o'clocks in 15 years, yet have to yank a ton up each season as they reseed prolifically. Reaching into a fading bloom she gathered some seeds and triumphantly showed me the minute difference between them and what I was holding.
Darn if she wasn't correct. I was holding some morning glory seeds she'd also gathered last year. She's fascinated with being able to produce food, flowers and herbs. She's the one who's taken over the oregano picking and drying marathon each year. We end up with nearly a gallon of dried oregano.
I never ask kids to weed as I love weeding, but more importantly, so much re-seeds itself that they wouldn't know what's a vital plant. Making a kid weed ruins the love of gardening I believe. No one ever made me weed growing up.
Lily asked to plant one of the Edisto Island Needle Palms which I, of course, allowed her to do. Everyone needs to know how to do this in my book.
"What are phytochemicals?" Tabby earnestly asked while stuffing her mouth with blueberries right off the bush. "No one in my class knows." Her class is apparently the center of her universe, the bastion of knowledge from which everything is then discerned in her book? I'm just happy that she loves school, that's a sure sign of future success according to this opinionated bookworm.