Thanks be

for the three women I raised

for these 3 of the 4 women who raised me

for the guy who cooks my turkey and makes good gravy.

      Happy Thanksgiving!

Serendipity

I feel like I have a new friend since lunch on Saturday. 

Maybe even another sister, if I have anything to do with it. 

(One can never have too many sisters.) 

Or friends. 

I think that's proverbial.

Maybe even scriptural.

Spiritual, for sure.

SO.

We met a year and a half ago in a store I'd never been to,

in a city I don't drive to all that often,

on a day when I hadn't planned to go there.  And I certainly didn't have the time.

At first I mistook her for an employee when I walked in, the cheery smile she gave me and all.

      (Good customer service is expected from employees.)

But I already knew what I needed in the store so I returned the greeting and went about my business.  Two or three more times in the minutes that followed I all but bumped into her looking through the same suits and skirts from opposite sides of the same rack.  Or maybe it was pants.  Or sweaters. 

Anyway, two or three more times I noticed her and she smiled. 

This was a classy lady.  She looked confident.  Put together.  Happy, I thought.  The mental note I made each time I saw her said there was something about her that I liked.  But the thoughts didn't linger because how often do you run into a perfect stranger and begin constructing a relationship with them?  Never.   That's how often.

Unless your life is a movie.
 

  In fact, I didn't even think about it.  I just kept shopping.

At the checkout counter the real employees hit me up to open a new credit card.

 I didn't really want one, and mostly didn't want to take the time, but said yes anyway.  I also had an exchange to make.  Which took a long time.

The customers in line at the register next to me came and went.

I chatted with the girl at the cash wrap while I waited for the paperwork to clear.  She knew some people I knew.  We had worked in the same place awhile back...yadda, yadda, yadda. 

Finally, she handed me the charge slip for my signature.  I signed it then picked up my bags and turned toward the door, toward the last register actually, which stood between me and the exit.  In my peripheral vision, I absently noticed that a tall guy was paying for his stuff there and the cashier was handing him his receipt.  Then, just as I looked up, the tall guy turned and I saw who it was. 

"Tom!" 

My surprise at seeing him came through in my voice.  The tall guy at Register 3 was my widower brother-in-law with whom I'd pretty much lost contact in the past many months! 

"What are YOU doing here?" was what he asked me, and I responded in words to the effect that I was the one who should be asking that question since HE was the one

who lived three states away.

His reason for being there was a lot more exciting than mine, I discovered, when he introduced me to the woman he was going to marry that very afternoon.  THE very lady, the one I had mistaken for a store employee when I first walked in! 

What?  Are?  The?  Odds?

Since that time, I've thought about her and Tom a lot, knowing that they live really close now, and wondering how to go about building a relationship with the two of them without inserting myself into theirs uninvited.  I've gleaned bits and snatches of information from my nieces and nephews (my sister's very children!) while trying not to be intrusive or meddlesome or appearing to have an agenda.  (But--I admit it--I have read her blog.  So go ahead, call me a lurker.  Sticks and stones...)

But, to me, blog reading's just not enough.  Families need to be together, and I consider someone married to my BIL to be part of my family.

So that's why I was thrilled when, Saturday, all the stars in the universe finally lined up and she and I got to meet each other for lunch.  It was a good day. 

No, it was a really good day.

And I hope it's the start of a long and happy extended family friendship involving nieces, nephews, grandkids, children, husbands, aunts, uncles, and brothers-in-law.

Did I mention cousins?

Forgive me if I'm feeling a little giddy at the prospects. 

Boo!

The one on the right was on the left

And the one in the middle was on the right

And the one on the left was in the middle

And the guy in the rear*

Was Annie. 

But this post is about the one on the right who is, more accurately, just a little left of center.  It's about her because today's her birthday.  Abby Jane "Boo" Gedicks McIntier.  It might interest you to note that the nickname Boo didn't come from Halloween.  On the contrary, my dear reader(s?), Boo actually derives from Boo Boo Bear, good buddy of Yogi Bear.  The one in the middle, who is really on the left, called her Boo Boo bear when she was a toddler wearing her fuzzy pajama sleeper because she looked like a cuddly little bear padding around the house.

Speaking of bears, the one in the middle, who is actually on the left, grew his beard on the Appalachian Trail, which is home to many bears.  But not to the bear on the right, who is more accurately just a tad left of center. 

The one on the left, who is not part of this story, has never been on the Appalachian Trail.  The one in the rear has. 

Happy birthday, to you Boo Boo Bear.  And many, many more.

Love,

Mom

*Johnny Cash   

On September 19 . . .

in 1978:
We ran some red lights in Los Angeles in the middle of the night.  While rushing to the hospital to have a new baby.  We later realized we didn't need to speed because the baby wasn't delivered for 22.5 more hours!  (It wasn't my idea to speed anyway.  I was busy trying to confine the water breakage to the towel so it wouldn't damage our car seats.  And I think Fred was just looking for an excuse to . . . be  b-a-d.)

in 2009:
We obeyed all the traffic laws in Orem in the middle of the day!  While driving to the nursery to buy some new trees.  We are now smart enough to know we don't need to speed.  And the trees won't be delivered for four more days anyway.  (It wasn't my idea to buy trees.  I was busy working on school assignments.  And I think Fred was just looking for an excuse to . . . plant trees.)

In 1978:
We suffered the beginning of a 10-day record heat wave in L.A. with a broken air conditioning system at Kaiser-Permanente Hospital.  After the birth, a very hungry new daddy bought himself something to eat at the hospital cafeteria.

In 2009:
We suffered a beginning-of-the-season defeat in Provo by Florida State at LaVell Edwards Stadium.  After the game, a very disappointed hubby bought us some groceries to eat.  At Harmons.  (I think he was just looking for an excuse to . . . buy ice cream.)

In 1978:
We stared at our new son and wondered what he would grow up to be.  Chewed a lot of ice chips.  Had never drunk a Diet Coke, or any other kind of cola. (Except once in junior high when I took one sip of Debbie Steele's cherry coke when we rode her horses to the Dairy Queen after school.  I felt like a true sinner.  For a lot of years.  I never told anybody.)  We noticed how incredibly beautiful our new baby was.

In 2009:
We remembered our grown son and wondered what he would be like today.  Bought large Diet Cokes and chewed all the ice chips.  Noticed how incredibly beautiful the mountains are.  (I think I was just looking for an excuse to . . . not prepare my Primary sharing time for tomorrow.)

We miss you, Alex, on your 31st birthday.  No 
                                        excuses.

I Am Kind

of sad about my blog. 

In case you hadn't noticed, all of my sidebar links have dropped, kind of like my boobs.  They're all the way at the bottom and I don't know how to get them back where they belong. 

My links, not my boobs.

This gorilla is sad, too.  His Tavern on the Green in Central Park is declaring bankruptcy.

It's no secret that I use my blog as an excuse to avoid doing less pleasant tasks. Like writing an inquiry unit for a class I'm taking. It doesn't matter that I just can't think of how to teach prefixes and suffixes using the inquiry method when the sun is shining on a perfectly good day off.

un + enthusiastic = "I don't want it!" (Annie, age 3)
power + less = you can't make me

So, I practice avoidance behavior. Whenever I can. And here's proof:

#1. I didn't blog all summer.

But who would want to blog to avoid these guys?

Certainly not I.

#2. I rest my case.

And now I believe I'll go outside and smell the grass.

Birthday Wish

Wish we could call Ceri for her 56th birthday yesterday. I guess we COULD call her if we stood outside and yelled at the sky, but that is widely considered to be an exercise in futility.

I stood outside and yelled at the sky on Shawn's birthday. It was an exercise in futility.

Maybe it had something to do with what I was yelling. Or it was just a wrong number.

I'm still planning to call you for your birthday, Shawn, but I'll probably use the phone.