poppies

I feel compelled to purchase, obligated even, when I see a poppy.

Perhaps it's that phenomenon that happens when you're made aware of something, and you begin to see it everywhere.

There are new pillow shams, a dress for when she's two, a shirt for when she's three and napkins for (?) her first birthday?

I even bought a buddy poppy from the lady at the grocery store.

Absolutely I want to support veterans, but truth be told, it was a poppy!

I'm hoping this wears off soon, because I'm not really into heavy themes or collections.

The way I see it...

At worst: a slight compulsion.

At best: an irresistible reminder of how cherished my own little Poppy is.

A picture from today, this is a rose from our dinner date on Valentines!

It's been cheering me up each day sitting so pretty in my kitchen.

I feel like I should tell you that, happily, the speeding ticket ordeal has resolved itself.

I called the city to see when I could come (in person!) to pay my

fine(s), and the lady on the phone paused for a minute and asked,

"What is your name?"

I was only half-way through when she exclaimed,

"I've been looking for you!"

Turns out she found my sad little crumpled up envelope (postmarked accordingly)

in the bottom of a mail basket and was trying to track me down.

But with no phone number on the ticket, she had resorted to facebook!

I just love that. I love the thought of it.

But sadly, I'm not on facebook.

Anyhow. It's worked out. over. sigh of relief. and it made my WEEK!

Back to the flower.

When I took the picture of the rose this afternoon, I was just sort of playing with the light.

But once loaded on my computer, I realized it was reminding me of Cathy, my father in law's girlfriend.

We attended her funeral this week.

She loved flowers. And if I had them in my home, and she was over, you better believe she was going on and on about how beautiful they were, and how much she loved them.

Cathy also loved life. And sweet-tarts. And Marilyn Monroe.

She bought gifts for my children waaaaaay before the actual event.

Like Poppy's birth?

Her gift was purchased months before.

Because she loved us.

And was thinking about us.

And because she was genuine.

Two weeks have transpired...

This blog has never been a real-time accounting of our lives or feelings.

There is plenty of goodness that will probably go unrecorded.

(Zach's Star Wars Party! Kyle's awesome basketball games!)

And there are certainly things I'm all too happy to forget about.

(the city didn't receive my mail-in money order to pay my speeding ticket and now they've doubled my *already extensive* fine and I have a court date!?)

Asked to describe my current state, I'd say: frazzled.

I've struggled under the combined weight of my commitments, obligations and responsibilities.

But asked to describe what keeps me going: I'd point to the picture above.

It's a concerted effort to elevate what it is that means the very most to me.

Two of my loves...

had a birthday in January.

It's like a time warp.

I took these pictures two years ago.

We celebrated the same way. Chocolate cake and fruit pizza.

And though they are older and wiser today, one thing has remained.

Their goodness.

They are the sort you want in your corner, on your team, by your side.

They are solid, unselfish and kind.

I love them.

I am a lucky girl.

little baby in a mint green bumbo.

That's actually the first line of a song I find myself singing all day long.

"Little baby in a mint green bumbooooooo"

Seriously.

I can't help myself.

I know that bumbo days are short lived.

Very short lived.

Sing about them while you can, I say.

after breakfast, but still in pjs, is my favorite time of day.

When David came home early from work, we scrolled through these pictures on my camera.

Speaking of the kids, I said, "They're like little jewels. We are so rich."

He said, "What more do we need?"

And we sat on the couch with star struck eyes, and goofy smiles looking at their perfect faces.

Also, at the time, they were all asleep.

Which made that moment, and those feelings, possible.

Oh parenthood.

remembering.

Turns out, I don't have the ability to write what I'd like to say.

And so I am shooting from the hip on this one.

Here we are standing on the land my parents just purchased a few weeks ago.

It is in the beautiful Ozarks on Table Rock Lake.

Two lots down is Tom and Sylvia's cabin.

Sylvia is my mother's cousin, although that hardly describes the relationship.

They built their cabin over 13 years ago, and graciously, generously let our family use it.

I have so many fond memories here.

But our trip this weekend was more somber.

Tom passed very unexpectedly on New Years Day.

My Dad offered some remarks at the service.

There is a portion that I can't forget.

I can't stop thinking about how spot on this observation was.

Of Tom, he said:

"Even though you might have just met him, Tom had the unique ability to immediately put you at ease and make you feel comfortable. In the middle of the Iowa state fair, a basketball game, at an art exhibit, in a restaurant, at a business function, a family or social event, it didn't matter. He was just the kind of guy you wanted to be around. Tom could converse on any subject, and seemed always eager to find out more about a subject, about you, what your interests were and always able to, within time, funnel any conversation you were having with him to common ground. And before you knew it, you were unwittingly linked to Tom Rawlings forever."

It's true. It's true.

What a quality to possess.