Yesterday I stopped to get gas and was shivering beside my car (with Mimi’s words echoing in my head about why on earth we don’t just move to Oregon where the common folk aren’t allowed to pump their own gas) when the woman next to me and I started chatting.  As complete strangers often do, our first words to each other were all about the weather.  We good-naturedly grumbled to each other about how cold and blustery it was as we hugged our fleece jackets tighter around our bodies. 

We were just getting warmed up to our subject when a third gas pumper interrupted.  She pointed out that the weather was pretty normal for the end of March.  After all, she pointed out, Seattle does have that rainy reputation for a reason. Then she pointed out that we had just gotten spoiled with the wonderful early spring that we had been having.  

Of course she was right.  The cheerful daffodils and tulips that have popped up in my garden will attest to that.  We had gotten so used to the blue skies and sunshine with near sixty degree temperatures that we simply couldn’t handle our normal gray skies.  (OK…we could handle it…we just didn’t want to!)

It seemed that my co-complainer and I no longer had anything to chat about. (We couldn’t exactly gripe about how whiney we were)  We gave each other a sheepish grin as we quickly topped off our tanks and headed back on the road.  

At least we could enjoy a typical Seattle spring day…and know that summer was coming soon…

I was working with my three-year-old preschool friend Katelyn yesterday when she suddenly noticed my earrings. (I’m not sure why it took her so long.  I have a weakness for long sparkly earrings…it’s the magpie in me) She stared at them for a moment before gasping out, “Miss Susie! Are you allowed to wear earrings?”

I think I did a pretty good job not bursting into laughter before I calmly replied that I was indeed “allowed” to wear them.  Katelyn just looked at me doubtfully, so I felt the need to explain further to her.

“I’m a grown-up so I get to make my own decisions”

“Really, I am”

Katelyn just tilted her head, considering this. It wasn’t until I pointed out to her that I was tall just like her mommy that she finally decided that I might possibly be a grown-up.

I’m still not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing…

When Shaun first got his Jeep a few years ago, the first thing he wanted to do was take it off road and get it dirty. (Yes, I realize most people work hard to keep a new car sparkling clean, but you must remember that nobody has ever accused Shaun of being like most people)  So we headed East towards the Cascades in search of some hills to climb and some mud to go mudding in.

We found plenty of hills and rocks to climb.  Shaun gleefully cackled as he tested out his four-wheel drive while I held on for dear life and tried not to scream.  (Because, knowing Shaun as well as I do, that would only encourage him). Much to my husband’s disappointment, it seemed as though we were at the wrong time of year to find mud.  it was just too dry.  (Yes, it really does get dry in Seattle!)

As we slowly meandered through the back roads on our way back home, we came upon the most glorious mud puddle in an abandoned dairy farm.  Oh joy! I didn’t even have time to tighten up my seatbelt before we were slipping and sliding through all of that muck.  When we finally drove off, my husband had a grin from ear to ear. 

Well…at least until we started to realize that the stench of the dairy farm seemed to be coming home with us instead of staying behind.  After a bit of investigation, my Beloved realized that he had driven through a huge pile of manure!

This weekend I agreed to go for a drive up to the logging roads. At one point the road opened up and we found ourselves staring at a huge field of mud. Shaun’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened.  It seemed as though he had just been given the most amazing gift ever. The next thing I knew, we were in the middle of it slipping, sliding and “gittin’ the Jeep dirty”. 

Slowly, it began to dawn on us that we were smelling something horrible.  It seemed as though our pile of mud off of a rarely used logging road out in the middle of nowhere was actually a pile of manure. 

It’s a good thing there is a car wash on the way home….

Don’t worry, it’s a new look, but it’s still me.  My pal Bob The Rooster, let me know that he had to make a quick trip to Minnesota to visit his ailing Aunt Eunice.  (Personally, I think it has more to do with that new chick, Elizabeth that he’s been talking about going to Spring Break with.  Whatever.) Fortunately, the  timing worked out nicely as Spring is the perfect time to try out new things. 

I couldn’t resist putting up this theme.  I mean, who could resist the thought of laying in the soft green grass, warmed by the sun and surrounded by happy little daisies and fluttering butterflies. (Sorry, those of you with allergies don’t get to vote) I don’t know how long this one will last…who knows she may all of a sudden realize that her Aunt Eunice needs her immediately.

I’m ready to design my own blog header (well, maybe not me…Mimi’s thinking of taking a web design class next year…I guess I can wait), but I can’t seem to decide on a theme.  I can’t put my finger on what the heck this blog is all about.  Any suggestions?

Today is Shaun’s birthday.  For some strange reason, he claims that he’s fifty years old now…but he’s not.  (like I want to be married to an old man!)  In fact, he’s actually been claiming that he’s fifty ever since he turned 42.  I’m not sure it that’s because he knows he’s going to have a hard time getting used to that number, or if he’s fishing for complements on how young he looks for fifty.

We don’t have any major plans for his birthday.  KT is heading to the other side of the state for a track meet, Mimi is working on a big science project with her partner…and Shaun has been feeling a bit under the weather anyways.  I guess I’ll tackle the knee high grass in the back yard.  (Unless of course, I can convince Shaun that we need to head out to somewhere wonderful!)

Enjoy your weekend…I wish you sunshine and butterflies!

(Ugh, I think that theme is making me a bit gushy already…

“Who brought you those flowers?” my daughter asked as she walked into the kitchen and saw me trying to artfully arrange a bouquet of daffodils in a vase.

“Yeah,” questioned my husband. “Where did they come from? I didn’t bring them to you.”

My other daughter joined in and started teasing that I had a secret boyfriend or that some random man on the street…[….click here to read more]

It was several years ago today that I first met him.  Although he would argue that the correct word would be “rescue” instead of “met”. You see, I was just walking along, minding my own business when I heard what sounded like a cry for help. I sprung into my Warrior Princess Mode and glanced around trying to determine where it came from. All that I saw was a cat toying with something green and sparkly. I thought I had finally gone off the deep end when I realized that the wee object being batted around was making all the noise. Cautiously, I approached the tabby to see exactly what was going on. I had to blink my eyes a few times when I realized that the cat had what appeared to be a leprechaun.

I was torn between getting up and walking away, reassuring myself that I was imagining things or letting myself actually believe that a little bit of magic does exist in this world of ours. Naturally, I chose the right answer, because I know that magic is real. Distracting the cat with the liver-flavored cat treats I just happened to have in my purse. (The Warrior Princess is always prepared!) I snatched up the green-clad little man and tucked him in my pocket.

I gave the cat a couple more treats to make up for his loss and hurried home so that I could examine the thing squirming around in my pocket in the privacy of my own home. (I think I can safely say that most people would prefer not to go batty in front of witnesses.) Sitting at my kitchen table, I carefully pulled the tattered bit of green out of my pocket…and was shocked to realize that I was actually face to face with a real live leprechaun.

With a flash and a wave of his Magic Wand (you didn’t know leprechauns had wands did you?) the little man’s rumpled suit was instantly cleaned and pressed and his fiery red hair and beard were smoothed. When he considered himself presentable, he looked up at me and introduced himself as Paddy O’Furniture, Esquire.

Paddy reassured me that he had everything well under control (typical male!) but was very thankful that I actually believed in him enough to stop and save him from that horrid creature. (I never did tell him that it was actually my cat that was having such fun at his expense) My new friend went on to let me know that should I ever have children, he would do his part to make sure that the also, believed in the magic.

After chatting a bit more with Paddy (about things I’m sworn not to reveal) we went our separate ways. I’d convince myself that meeting the leprechaun was nothing more than a figment of my imagination (I’ve been told a time or two that I have a very active one) and had nearly forgotten all about him. Then one day, I caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head just in time for him to flash me a huge grin and a wink. I knew then, that the magic I had let fade from my life through the years was back.

In our house, Paddy became known as the Magical Leprechaun. Every Saint Patrick’s Day he would bring each of my girls a brand new green (of course!) outfit, a box of Lucky Charms cereal and run around waving that Magic Wand of his turning the milk and anything else he could find green.

Last night I suggested to my girls that I had heard rumors of the Magical Leprechaun impending retirement. I still grin to think of the looks of horror and denial that crossed their faces. I can’t wait to tell my friend Paddy.

He’ll be thrilled to know that the Magic lives on…

Mimi and I made plans to go to the store so that she could pick out fabric for me to make her a bag.  Right before we headed out the door,(Mimi told me we should’ve snuck out, but sadly I didn’t listen to her)  KT caught wind of our plan and invited herself to come along in order to pick out a pattern for a prom dress.  Against our better judgment,  Mimi and I waited (somewhat) patiently for KT to get ready.  Eventually she came out the door dragging her dad along with her.  Mimi and I just looked at each other and rolled our eyes. 

Mimi and I took off to look at the fabric selections while KT headed towards the pattern section.  To my complete amusement, Shaun happily settled down to look in the pattern books to help KT find her dream dress.  You can only imagine how much help he was to her…

It didn’t take too long for the two of them to get bored and wander off to other areas of the store.  Mimi and I ignored them while KT found a new friend…and fashion accessory…

Naturally, Shaun wanted a furry little friend to play too. He was told that he couldn’t play with a stuffed critter unless he wore a beautiful headpiece to match his daughter.   he really, really wanted to play with that froggie, so he agreed to wear a headband.  (We didn’t tell him it was pink)

Of course, Mimi couldn’t stand to be left out of all that fun.  She refused to wear the flower headband and chose to wear a duck on her her head instead.  (Rules are rules, she had to wear a beautiful headpiece!)

They finally decided it was time to stop playing when an employee wandered by and paused just long enough to crack up at them. 

You really have to love a man willing to hang out in a fabric store just to spend time with his little girls…

I went to bed early on Thursday night because I was feeling miserable.   I thought that  I was done being sick for the year, but it seemed as though I was coming down with with a nasty chest cold or something.  When Shaun came to bed a few hours later, I had been laying there listening to my chest wheezing and crackling away.  I told my Beloved that I was pretty sure one of my lungs had collapsed.   He merely grunted and asked me to try to stifle my coughing.

Friday night when Shaun came home from work, I gave him the dire news that I in fact, had pneumonia “Pneumonia?” he asked as he poorly masked a smirk, “I thought you told me that you had collapsed lung last night…what happened?” 

“It morphed” I told him. “these things happen.”

I struggled with my dire illness all through the night and through most of Saturday before I realized what was really wrong with me.  “Shaun” I said, “don’t be alarmed, but I’m pretty sure I have tuberculosis” 

I fully expected my husband to prostrate himself on the ground with grief, but he merely grunted and asked me if I needed anything from the store before telling me I should go back to bed.  (You may think this was concern, but in reality he was just trying to get me and my TB germs away from him.  You pick up on little things like that after twenty years of marriage)

Yesterday morning, I whimpered to him that I had the Something-Really-Bad-Disease and that he should be just a little more sympathetic towards me.  He merely laughed as he pulled me in close for a hug. 

That hug must’ve been the Wonder Drug because this morning my condition has been upgraded from the Something-Really-Bad-Disease  to the Something-Not-Quite-As-Bad-Disease.

It seems as though there is a good possibility that I will survive after all…

Last night at dinner, Mimi gathered up a fork full of spaghetti noodles and started bringing them towards her mouth.  Halfway there, she abruptly stopped and carefully picked up one sauce laden noodle.  As the pasta dangled in midair . Mimi’s eyes opened wide. 

“Whoooaaaa” she exclaimed breathlessly, “Mom left the spaghetti long!”

We all burst out laughing at my teenage daughter’s obvious delight in something as simple as finding a long noodle on her dinner plate.  It only took her a moment to place one end in her mouth and slurp it up. 

When I was making dinner, I had been sidetracked and had only broken the noodles in half instead of fourths as I usually do. I had first started the habit of breaking them into small pieces before dropping them into the boiling water when the girls were tiny.  It was my brilliant (At least to me!) way of making it easier for them to eat those  slippery awkward noodles. I guess I just never got out of the habit as the girls grew older because years later, our spaghetti noodles are still broken up into bite sized pieces.  

I mused to myself that it was probably time to break the habit and start serving full sized noodles to my family.  I wondered to myself what I had been thinking in not merely teaching my kids how to swirl spaghetti onto a fork.  (Perhaps because it’s a skill that I’ve never quite mastered?) 

I woke up from my moment of daydreaming only to I realize that my kids were having a grand time playing with their dinner, slurping up the noodles and flinging them about.  I looked to my husband in exasperation at the poor manners our heathen children were exhibiting.  Shaun merely froze when he saw that he had been caught red-handed stuffing a noodle into his nose. 

I think I’ll keep breaking up those noodles…

The other night  while the girls went to the opera (‘Cause we’re cultured like that) Shaun and I  decided to meet for an early dinner at a wonderful little Italian cafe that we enjoy.  I arrived first and put our names on the list then settled down to wait for both my husband and our name to be called.  

When Shaun arrived a short time later, we were shown to our table.  Although our girls are nearly grown, we almost always have at least one of them with us whenever we dine out.  I have to admit that it seemed odd to sit at a table for only two. Still…it was nice to sit alone with my husband and just chat about all those little things that bind a marriage together.  (You know…like what cute thing the puppy had done that day.) 

As our meal came to an end and we realized that the server really wanted us to leave so she could turn another table.  As we waited for her to return with our check, we started to look around at the other guests.  Shaun and I both pointed out tables to each other nearly simultaneously.  The table Shaun wanted to show me was of a family that had two little girls about four and six years old.  They were busy coloring a picture and chattering happily.  We just grinned at each other, remembering when our own two girls were that age.

With a subtle motion of my head I directed Shaun’s attention to the table I had spotted.  It was of another family with two little girls just a little bit older…maybe eight and ten.  They were in the midst of leaving, giggling and clinging to their father’s hand tightly with huge grins on their faces. 

Shaun and I shared a look, but didn’t say a word to each other about either set of little girls.  We didn’t have to.  We were both remembering when ours seemed as though they would be tiny forever.  Now our babies were old enough to go to McCaw Hall without us to watch Falstaff…not exactly babies anymore.

To be perfectly honest, we’re thrilled (and rather amazed) that we have somehow manage to raise such confident and self-sufficient young women.  Yet, sometimes it just tugs at the heartstrings to know that they are getting ready to leave the nest they have thrived in for so long.  I see a lot of tables for two in our future.

At least we still have the puppy…