Round one.

We win. This round. Lauren's MRI yesterday indicated there is no tumor. A great big sigh and a heartfelt thank you for prayers offered on her/our behalf. There are further tests on the schedule. I am hoping for a simple, curable explanation. Please God.

We enjoyed a sleepover from the Super Carrot. She went with us to Sweet Pea's Christmas program where the staff got it right. In 30 minutes we were out of there. It was precious. Sweet Pea was a natural on the stage. She knew every word and every gesture for her songs. 

Merritt was full of song during this visit. She sang "Hacky birthday to Jesus!", "Jesus loves me this I know", and "Jingle Bells". Over. And over. 

 

And. She loved playing the "peeno". And singing. 

How can you not want to just eat up little feet in Christmas socks?! Right? 

Poor Merritt threw up twice on the way home yesterday. She was fine after that. I am thinking car sick. Not stomach bug. (She may get that from her Nanny. I am the queen of car sick.) 

Today dawned rainy. Less rain and more just dreary as the day progresses. After a good workout at the gym Mr. Macho and I have just piddled around the house. I met up with some neighbors for a drive way pow-wow before lunch and presented them with their Christmas "happies" from us. I introduced the gifts as, "not home-made, and not expensive." They loved the cheap goodies I had bagged for them. And I shared my Christmas oranges with them. I don't know what I was thinking when I ordered the large box. But I have oranges coming out the wazoo. 

I have much to do next week. But for now I am relaxed. We are going to support our church youth tonight and eat their chili. Then we are going to enjoy our little town's Christmas parade. It will feature the Budweiser Clydesdales!! I am truly excited about seeing them. 

Peace on earth. Goodwill toward men. 

Shhh...

(Said in a whisper.) Merritt is coming over this afternoon. And. We get to go watch Sweet Pea's preschool Christmas production this evening. I can hardly wait. Oh this will be fun.

I could use a few chestnuts roasting by an open fire.

Wow. It was so cold feeling this morning. The frost was so heavy it looked like snow. I didn't eat breakfast nor drink my hot cup of coffee because of the blood test. Routine. It has been a few years. And so. I fasted after midnight for the test. I thought I would treat myself to a breakfast afterwards but ended up in the Subway inside the Walmart. Mistake. Mediocre sandwich and not-so-good coffee. I kept my coat and scarf on whilst I perused the aisles. Cause I was still chilled. I found lots of little odds and ends that are going to help round out my gift giving. Plus the usual milk and butter that I needed. I finally felt warm when I got back into my car and found it was cozy and sun-heated.

Back home. Groceries are half put away. Home coffee reheated and consumed. Phone call with Daughter. We are making the arrangements. I will pick up the Super Carrot tomorrow after nap time. She will spend the night with us. This will allow Daughter and Son-in-Law to rise early and get Lauren to Birmingham for her MRI. I know I haven't written about this subject until now. I haven't wanted to put it in writing. I haven't been able to do that.  Here is the deal. Last week the eye doctor saw something pushing Lauren's optic nerve into her eyeball. They want to look further. Limbo. This is where we have been living for the last week. And. We will be there for a few more days. Until we get results.

Couple this with my Father's spirit being present in every sweet Christmas song on the radio and you can start to guess that my emotions are riding in plain sight. I hear my dad in every Bing Crosby-like crooned carol on the radio. I am hit with what I call the "Butterfly Kisses" affect = I can't decide whether to change channels or just enjoy a good cry. Even the not-so-sad songs conjure Dad in the car with me. I think I heard "I'll be home for Christmas" three times in one trip to town.

Do we ever stop wanting to go home for Christmas?

I'll be home for Christmas - Michael Buble'

Just another Monday.

The birthday has come and gone. There was no cake. There were no candles. But. There was fried chicken. And a clean kitchen. And wonderful and varied renditions of "Happy Birthday to you!" There was time spent with friends. And family. And it was good.

The weekend rain has intruded upon my Monday and rendered it a stay home day. And so. I declare this "Christmas Waffle Making Day"! My Mom's old family recipe for Belgian Waffles will be dusted off and lightly adhered to. It has been handed down from generation to generation. The recipe, written in my mother's hand, actually belongs to Daughter. However, she has not claimed custody, yet. So I make the waffles. It is a happy arrangement.

My room that usually looks like a yarn bomb went off now has the appearance of a gift wrap bomb explosion. Slowly presents are morphing from here to underneath our tree. Today the house will start to smell like Christmas with all the nutmeg and cinnamon that goes into the waffles. I think I need to play some good happy tunes while the baking is going on. That will set a good mood.

I wish you could see Daughter's photo of her children on Santa's lap. It is classic. With The Super Carrot in full blown "bloody murder" face. It. Is. Hysterical!

Peace on earth. Be sweet.

Heinz 57.

Yes. I am now 57 years old. So? This year my birthday was mostly happy. (It was tempered by some disturbing news about Lauren. That discussion is for a later day. It is a medical issue.)
Wednesday I went shopping with my girlie friends. They bought me lunch and we shopped until we were all worn out. It was a good day.

Thursday, yesterday, was my birthday. The day was good. I received many birthday cards. I talked to my Mom the day before and she wished me a happy birthday and I told her I was glad I was born and thanks for having me, Mom. She told me she was glad I was born. She said I love you. I said I love you.
I had cards/phone calls/Skype calls/and texts from all my siblings. Even my friend, Ruby, who is out of town for 3 months, arranged for her daughter-in-law to drop a present by my house.  Being the seventh child of nine, often lost among the throng, it feels good to be remembered. Knowing that I love the birth stories, Marsha asked about my very own birth story. Some of our childhood stories come from an older sibling's memories. I just don't have any information about my birth story. Maybe that is one of the reasons I feel so strongly about telling and retelling the events that surrounded the birth of each of my children. Each birth was different and had it's own unique twist. And I remember. Each. One.

Anyway. I did what I wanted...got a little Christmas shopping done and some Christmas cards written and mailed. One of my sisters-in-law dropped by for a nice visit. She brought me a very lovely scarf. Her presence made my day feel happier. I got a colorful arrangement of flowers from Out-of-Town Son and Sweet Alyssa. In the evening Mr. Macho and I enjoyed a bottle of Spumante and then went out to the fancy restaurant in town and enjoyed a lovely meal.  Super Carrot got teased and couldn't quite sing her signature "Hacky Birthday to You!" on facetime. That is okay. She sang it to me a few days ago. It counts.

Sister Paulette is taking me to lunch today. The celebration continues. I plan more Christmas shopping today. Must get this done. Must get this done. Eeeek.

This is me not panicking. Be sweet.

And so it begins.

December. With all of its happy-sad mish-mosh of the emotional roller coaster. Two sisters have already wished me a happy birthday week. Okay! Off to a better start than last year. A combination of things kept my birthday from being very happy last year. My Dad was dying. Enough said. This year I am trying to make my own weather. Own my karma. I already have plans in the works to spend Wednesday with my girlie friends. Carpe diem!

We did get most of the Christmas decorations put out yesterday. The front door and mailbox are about all that is left. I will wait until tomorrow to finish that up. I hope to get some shopping done this week. It might be next week before I finish. Than I will have to start planning in earnest what to eat at our family gathering and what to plan to eat when we go home to Mom's. But not today. Today we fed the masses. Spaghetti. And it was good. Yes. The workers can eat if there is anything left. And there was food left. It is a rainy kind of day and our numbers were down. But hungry people still came to us.

It is my favorite month of good deeds, again. I am enjoying doing some things. No. I will not tell. Only that it feels good. And I don't need anyone to know that I did it. Gives it even more of a zing. I encourage you to do something small but meaningful for somebody. And don't tell.

Peace on earth. Good will toward men. Be sweet.