Land of the Giants

 Land of the Giants

If you follow my blog, you know my mother came to Florida a few weeks ago and started looking for a place of her own. She found a condo that fits her perfectly. Mike and I thought she might stay with us.

Her independence is important to her. I get it. 

The second oldest grand flew down with her. If you missed that post, you can check it out HERE. We enjoyed Spencer’s visit. Spencer is a great twenty-year-old man. 

He is a man who is “present” when he is with you. Not on his phone. Not distracted. Never does he indicate he’d rather be somewhere else.

This past week the oldest grand drove down for a visit. 

Joshua is one of the “good guys,” too. He is a caring and tender “old soul” in his mid-twenties.

 Joshua and Mike are both “car guys,” so a trip to Streetside Classics north of Tampa was on the docket. When they left the venue, Mike climbed in the passenger side of our Corvette and turned the driving over to Joshua. Mike is a natural at being a grandfather. Joshua beamed as he told me about his experience.

I don't exactly "fit in" with the "Giants."
That's okay...the youngest is still shorter than me!

And now? This week, daughter Danielle and her family flew down for a few days. Danielle is a wife to Tim and a mother of four. They live in Wisconsin…and yes, the day they left there was snow on the ground. 

Mike refers to Wisconsin as “the land of the giants.” Rightly so. The only one in the Morrow family shorter than me is the youngest boy, Nathaniel. That will likely change before the next school season starts. 

We’ve enjoyed their visit. The weather has been perfect. Perfect for riding in the boat. Perfect for playing outside. 

But mostly, it is perfect to breathe deep, sit on the back porch and talk…or read… or watch the sunset…especially with giants. 

Under Attack

 Under Attack

It was late. Time for my shower. I went into the bathroom, leaned into the shower stall and turned on the water so it would be nice and hot when I was ready. 

Thunk! A slab of wood from atop the shower door came down on my head as I reached for the faucet. The wood was about eighteen inches long. The end was as big around as a Denny’s pancake. I was shocked and let out a little yelp as the wood clattered to the floor. 

Thank you FreePik for the image.

Haltingly, I made my way to the doorway leading to the living room to report my injury to Mike. I’m not sure he heard me. The television was on. However, he could see the distress on my face. 

“What is it?” he asked as he came to meet me.

“I’m alright,” I assured him. “Didn’t you hear the clatter?”

“No.”

I told him what happened and you’re not going to believe this, but the man laughed. I’m serious. He laughed. 

Still in shock, I followed him back to the couch. I was hoping for a little TLC. A little babying. But no. Even as I related the entire incident to him, he laughed. Out loud. To my face. 

Fortunately, my injury was something I could overcome. At least the physical one. The emotional toll was huge. 

I returned to the scene of the incident. I picked up the wooden thing from the shower floor to show Mike. It wasn’t all that heavy. Wood flying at you doesn’t have to be heavy to hurt. 

“This is what thunked me in the head,” I told Mike.

Did I get sympathy? No. In fact, when I returned with the projectile, Mike laughed harder.

I ask you, is this the way to treat the woman you love?

Well, the truth is, by this time I was laughing, too.

I’m planning a little “addition” to the shower. A hook should work. In the meantime…don’t they make a lightweight, plastic back brush?

Brush or Weapon?
You decide.

Dirt, Water, and Sunshine

 

Dirt, Water, and Sunshine

Last week I wrote “I’m walking on sunshine.” I am. It is wonderful to have my mama staying with us. If you missed that post, you can check it out HERE.

I love Florida sunshine. And I love the weather this time of year... though it isn’t all sunshine. 

No matter what the weather, our cat, Tiki, loves to sit on our enclosed back porch. Mike often lets her out in the morning. She sleeps on the chaise or sits in front of the windows watching squirrels and birds in the backyard.

Early this morning, a plunking sound woke me. Mike was already in his office and Tiki was outside. She was at the window looking into our breakfast nook. She tapped at the window again asking to come in. 

Tiki: Weather Watcher

That’s unusual. She likes to stay out as long as we let her.

I opened the door and she scooted inside. The cat was barely in the house when a heavy rainstorm appeared from nowhere and moved across the lake toward our house. The rain pounded the yard and deck. The fierce wind threatened to blow the Spanish moss from the trees.

Somehow the cat knew the storm was on its way. We both watched it move toward us. 

It was dark and intense, but it was also strangely beautiful. 

Our house has a metal roof. Tiki curled up on the couch and I  headed back to bed, quickly lulled into a deep sleep by the sound of the storm on the roof. By the time Mike woke me up, the storm had ended, the sun was shining, and the grass was green. Rainstorms in Florida are often sudden and intense, but over quickly.

I grew up in Florida. I know it can actually rain in the back yard and be sunny in the front.

Yes. At the same time. 

But isn’t that kind of like life? We focus one direction and see clouds. Darkness. Rain. For some, that is discouraging. Yet if we look at our lives through a different window…or lens, we see sunshine.

My paternal grandmother once told me when I was bummed on a rainy day, “Remember, Becky, every living thing needs  a little dirt, water, and sunshine to grow.” 

She was right. I only came to fully understand the “dirt” part when I became a mom. 

Tiki came in to check out the blog.
She's great at proofreading, but never says anything about it.

Walking on Sunshine

 I’m Walking on Sunshine

When I was a teen, there was a popular song by Katrina and the Waves called “Walking on Sunshine.” It is a song of pure joy and anticipation of a bright future. 

Walking on sunshine is all that and more for me. 

Sun Through the Trees &
The Azaleas are Blooming!

My mom is in Florida. She is living with us for the moment. Mike and I bought this house with her in mind, but she wants a place of her own. I get it. Like me, Mom is fiercely independent. Actually… maybe a bit more fierce, truth be told.

Mom and I met with a wonderful realtor. We described what we wanted. Vicki showed us several options in the area. 

The condo Mom is looking at is perfect for her and not too far from us. The negotiations are in the works. But until she moves, Mike and I are enjoying having her stay with us.

 I’m walking on sunshine. And in sunshine.

Mom and I have enjoyed walking in our neighborhood, chatting with neighbors, sitting by the lake, and mostly, admiring all God has created. 

Each walk is a blessing. A time to talk. A time to enjoy nature’s beauty. I revel in this sweet time with my mama. 

As I type this, we are sitting on the back porch. The weather is perfect. 

Mom is talking with her oldest great grandson. Mike is down by the lake with his nephew checking a boat motor. I can hear their voices as well as the motor of another boater out on the lake. The sun is pouring through the window and I can hear the rustling of leaves as a gentle breeze blows from the south. The Spanish moss sways gracefully from the oak trees in our backyard. 

As the song goes… “I’m Walking on Sunshine…Whoa-oh,…and Don’t it Feel Good?”

Where do you find your sunshine? 

Our Bird "Neighbors"
Loving the Sunshine!

 

Three Kinds of People

 Three Kinds of People?

I’m a writer. I appreciate editors. 

Don't leave. This post isn't about writing. It's about living.

In the world of writing, we have different sorts of editors who look over manuscripts. A developmental editor or content editor makes sure the author is accurate, consistent, and keeps the story moving forward.  We even have editors who help in making sure the language of our text is clear and easy to understand. 

Of course, there are those editors who pick at punctuation and spelling. Go figure.

I’m working on a novel. I have poured through it several times. I try to polish it as best as I can before anyone else reads it. I look forward to getting into the hands of an agent or publisher. But I know that is only the beginning. 

Once accepted, a publishing house will assign my work to an editor. This week I was thinking about how editors make my writing better. Stronger. 

The thought occurred to me that everyone could use an editor.

I keep this on my desk...
a good reminder to edit.

Wouldn’t it be great if every person had a little editor on his or her shoulder? Someone to stop us before we say something we’d later regret or at least delete the comment before it reached another person’s ears?

Here are a few ways an editor on our shoulder might help…in writers terms:

Tone or Voice. I remember my mother telling me, “Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice, young lady!” Think about it. An editor on my shoulder could have saved me from being grounded.

Relevancy. You’re at a party and want to fit in with the new crowd of people you’re meeting. You start to tell a joke. The only joke you know. It would be great to have that little editor on your shoulder shove something in your face before you open your mouth and offend everyone.  Or perhaps…some of those folks are talking about a basketball game and you jump in telling them about your high school winning streak playing cards with your grandma at the senior center. An editor on your shoulder could have slapped you up the side of the head.

Jargon. An editor on your shoulder might stop you from speaking in those technical terms you use in your job at NASA at a party. Boring! An editor could suggest a better way to communicate your love of space. Something like, “Did you taste the dip? It is out of this world!” Or “I’m over the moon with this band!” Well, maybe not. But you get the idea.

Concise Language. You’re sitting at dinner and someone asks how your day went. A little editor on your shoulder might stop you from boring your family (or guests) with a thirty- minute story detailing how you unjammed the copy machine at work and then had to refill the paper tray.  Unjam? Refill? Copy machine? Four words max.

Maybe if we all had a little editor on our shoulders, we would get along better with those around us, avoid hurt feelings, and maybe even avoid everything from fights on the playground to wars in the world.  

What do you think?

Finding Your Way

Finding Your Way Around Town

This is a very special week for me. My mother and second oldest grandchild flew in  from Ohio. 

My Sweet Mama &
My Sweet Grandson, Spencer

For Spencer it will be a whirlwind visit, he’s been out on the boat with Mike, is getting in a round or two of golf  (One with his Uncle Ronnie) and spending significant time basking in the Florida sunshine. And…he cooked a wonderful spaghetti dinner for us!

It’s February. Enjoy it all, Spencer!

It will not be a whirlwind visit for my mother. You could say it is more of a shopping trip. 

Mom is planning a move back to the Sunshine state. Although she is welcome to stay with us, her plan is to find a place of her own. A home nearby. She has friends not too far from where we live. That’s a plus. And she has always liked Inverness…at least as she drove through it from her home in Lutz to her house in Dunnellon. 

Now it is time for her to get the lay of the land here. It takes a bit. When we lived just north of Tampa, in a then small berg called Lutz, to get to Dunnellon, we drove north on US Highway 41. Okay. But the highway is also Florida State Route 44 for a stretch through Inverness. Then, just out of the heart of town, the two split up again. State Route 44 continues west and US 41 continues north.

 And then there’s Gospel Island Road. Gospel Island Road turns north off State Route 44 then curves west then south to meander into the town of Inverness where you come to a light to turn north on 41/44 before they split again. 

Okay, you have my permission to skip all of that. 

When my mom moved to Fairfield, Ohio, she was a bit unsure of the roads there, as well. 

I told her not to worry. “All roads lead to Route 4,” I said. It was a good rule of thumb.

Of course, even Fairfield has grown since then. Now, in our new Florida town I’m saying, “Don’t worry, all roads will eventually get you to 44 or 41 somehow or another. 

The point is this: When anyone moves, it takes a while to get used to the setting, find the stores, and learn the streets. 

But Remember: The sun still rises in the east and sets in the west.

And if you need it, there is this always this foolproof MAP from the New Living Translation of the Bible: 

"Seek His will in all you do, and He will show you

which path to take."

 

 

 

Choose Wisely

 Choose Wisely

This week Mike celebrated his birthday. The man made it tough for me by buying three of his own gifts. I’m serious. He ordered what he wanted, paid for everything, and had the items delivered. He then handed the presents over to me to wrap.

What’s the fun in that?

I figure he didn’t trust I would get him something he liked. 

He was wrong. 

Several weeks ago, we watched Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. If you are familiar with the movie, the Nazis are searching for the Holy Grail, purportedly the cup from which Jesus Christ drank at the Last Supper.

In the movie (part of which was filmed in Jordon at a place known as Petra, by the way) Jones and the Nazis make it into a room filled with goblets of all shapes and sizes and made of everything from gold, silver, and precious stones to a simple clay cup.

A picture of the carved rock temple of El-Khazneh of Petra
(No I wasn't there...this is from my Bible)

The Last Crusader guarding the Holy Grail warns the intruders they must choose wisely. When the Nazi drinks from the jewel encrusted goblet instead of gaining eternal life, he is cursed and wastes away before the viewers eyes. The Last Crusader quietly says, “He chose poorly.” 

True. There is only one way to eternal life. It is not from drinking from a certain goblet. (Message me if you want to know more.)

So…What does all this have to do with Mike’s birthday? 

As I said, a couple of days before his birthday, Mike handed me the three gifts he purchased for himself so I could wrap them. I added a couple of gifts of my own choosing as well as a small used jigsaw puzzle someone slipped into the book exchange box at the end of our driveway.

I arranged all of the gifts on a table. I did my best to disguise what each present held. They were different shapes and sizes but all wrapped in coordinating paper. 

"Choose wisely," I told him.

I reminded him of the movie we recently viewed. I also told him he could not pick up nor touch any of the wrapped gifts. He could only describe or point to the one he wanted.

Mike “chose wisely” on his first go. A gift certificate to our favorite restaurant in Inverness, Stumpknockers on the Square. When he opened the used jigsaw puzzle, I said, in my best Crusader monotone, “...you chose... poorly.”

"Uh-oh...You chose... poorly."

The man may have tried his best to buy his own gifts, but our little celebration after breakfast was fun. AND as it turned out, he liked everything I bought for him by myself. 

Maybe I can be trusted to buy for you, Mike! Happy Birthday and live knowing you are loved.