Introducing Milk and Cookies

"Children are made readers on the 

laps of their parents."

Emilie Buchwald

Friends, it is back to school time.   I have had so much fun this past week and a half, following  my former pre-schoolers and sending happy messages on their first day.  There is just something exciting about a new school year.  I still have a little over a week before I head back, but I have been working in my classroom cleaning, sprucing-up and organizing.

One of my "jobs", besides teaching Pre-K 4, is taking care of our children's library.  Just before the school year begins, a teacher friend and I get to go to a local bookstore, spend a few hours perusing children's books and selecting a really nice bunch of books to bring back to the school for parent's to purchase and donate to our school library.  I may not be the perfect person for the job; I assure you, no one enjoys it more.

Now this is going to sound off track, but it is just an example of how my rambling 
crazy brain runs.

A few weeks ago, playing around in the kitchen, I was mixing up a batch of my, go to, chocolate chip cookies.  I am a bit like the the mouse in If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.  I can begin one thing which will make me think of something else, which will make me think of something else, and so on and so on.  You're following me, right?

image from Goodreads

So, while tossing together all the ingredients, I ventured down that street (you know the one I'm talking about) named Memory Lane.  I had those warm fuzzy memories of coming home from school, finding a plate of M &M cookies and a glass of milk waiting on the table.  I would sit on the kitchen stool while Mother cooked supper, and we would talk about my school day.    A couple of cookies and a glass of milk and I was an encyclopedia of all that happened in the classroom and on the playground.... no holding back... no secrets kept.  Trust me on this one, I was pretty much a sell-out for a good cookie.

I moved on from thinking of the past, to wishing I could share the cookies cooling on the rack with my grandchildren, after their first day of school.   I thought about how fun it would be to sit, with a warm cookie, a cold glass of milk in hand while sharing a book.

The light bulb went off!

Milk and Cookies
(and children's literature)

Again, I am throwing together a couple of my favorite things to share.

In addition to sharing my thoughts on the books I am enjoying, I am going to occasionally
share a favorite children's book and perhaps...
a cookie recipe (because you know I love to play in the kitchen).



I believe...

When we read, and share a love of reading, with children,
we are creating readers.
If you can read you can do anything.
If we create readers, and they can do anything...
Imagine the possibilities!

****

Readers, I love sharing the things that excite me, and make my heart smile, with you.   I love hearing your thoughts and ideas.  Writing and putting this out into space, tying it to my Instagram account,  is totally out of my comfort zone.  You make it easy, safe, and so much fun.  So.... using my best southern manners, I say....
Thank you so very much!

Have a great weekend friends,
do something that makes your heart sing
 and
Happy Reading!

Banana Bread

I've often confessed here, and on instagram, reading makes me hungry.  What can say!  If food or a meal is an important element in the book I'm reading, I am usually up trying to find something to grab to satisfy my craving.  Often it means dinner plans are changing, or I am going to be pulling down a cookbook and stirring up something in the kitchen.  (This may be the reason I can sit down with a cookbook and read it like a novel.)  A  good book is always better with a beverage and a snack.  Do you agree?

In the novel The Lost for Words Bookshop, Loveday, is taken aback by a cookbook mysteriously delivered to the shop where she works.   While perusing the pages she feels there is something familiar about it and memories of her mother are stirred.  

My mother loved to cook.  There are so many aromas from the kitchen that take me back home and to my mother.  Banana Bread is one of my fondest memories.  No one else in my family particularly cared for banana bread.  I loved it!   It was a special treat, and something Mother made only for me.

This is not my mother's recipe.  I dearly wish it were; her recipe is in hiding somewhere, hopefully to be found.   I have tried several banana bread recipes, and nothing really made me happy.  With a few over-ripe bananas, more in the freezer and a sudden desire to experiment,  I mixed up a recipe that brings back those memories.  And, most importantly,....   it has my sweet Bonnie Rose's approval (wink wink).

To compliment The Lost for Words Bookshop  I am offering up

Bee's Banana Bread

1/2 cup butter, room temperature
1 1/2 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups flour, sifted
1 heaping tsp. baking soda
1/3 cup buttermilk
4-5 ripe bananas, mashed
(This is a lot of bananas, you may feel the need to decrease the amount.)

Pre-heat oven to 350℉.  Prepare two loaf pans.
Cream butter and add sugar.  Beat until smooth.  Add salt and eggs, one at a time, and mix until well blended.  Add flour and soda alternating with buttermilk.  Stir in bananas.  (I leave my bananas a little chunky.)    Pour mixture into pans and bake for about 45 mins.   Test the center with a toothpick before taking out of oven.  It should come out with no crumbs. 

This bread is moist, dense and tasty.

 Happy Reading
and
Enjoy!   

******
I hope you like this idea I have of pairing a book with a beverage, food, meal, or perhaps an outing.  This, like everything I do, is an experiment and a work in progress.  Let me know your thoughts.

Hugs!

Where to Pick Up

July!!!

It was a busy busy spring... wrapping up the school year, enjoying extended visits with my beautiful daughter and amazing grandchildren, and of course... reading.

You know I do the reading for you... right?
Yes, it all for you!

  I've been posting a lot on my  (somewhat) new instagram account, bee_tweenthelines.  It is a heavy on book suggestions, with a sprinkling of blooms and fun in the kitchen.  It is a public account. If these things interest you, I would love for you to join me.

I have warned you in the past...

 When those squeaky wheels in my brain start turning, I can be a bit dangerous.  Stir in time and a few conversations with my daughter (there may have been some bubbly involved)...
it can get explosive around here.

I don't know if anything will become of all this talk; hopefully I'll have something to share this fall.
I'll keep you posted.  

In the meantime, I'll be reading, cooking and sharing with you here.

Now I'm off to see what you have been up to.

Happy Reading Friends!

Who Do I Blame... or Thank?

It is going to be a great weekend for reading!

After my whining about summer's refusal to leave, our days have become milder.  We can actually feel Autumn trying to push through.  To be honest we often go straight from summer to winter, and winter to summer; when the temps drop below 80 two days in a row, we don long sleeves and boots and celebrate our Autumn.

This morning it is overcast and a cool front will be passing through, possibly bringing in some much needed rain.  This my friends is 
the perfect formula for a reading weekend.  

I finished Before We Were Yours last night.  I may have a stack of unread books waiting to be opened and loved, but for some reason when I finish a book, I feel the need to replace it with something new, or new to me (I love previously loved books).    Being too late to run out to the bookstore I began searching for something to download.  This may be considered an addiction... 
 I will not commit.  

Perhaps it was finishing a book about the strong ties of family and what they bring to our lives long after they are gone, while looking for my weekend read I began thinking about who ignited my love of reading and lead me down this path of bibliophilia.  And, of course, the train I jumped on took me to my sweet mother.

I cannot remember waking up and not finding my mother sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and a book.   While Daddy watched his favorite sports event or television show, mother sat next to him reading.  Sundays, after Church and dinner, we knew we could find Mother, weather permitting, sitting on the porch with her book and a glass of iced tea (hmmm, sound familiar?)  

Living in rural Louisiana we didn't have bookstores, instead she joined book clubs and visited the Library.   She was always willing to take me to the library, and yes, I had my own book club subscription before I could read.  I still remember the joy of getting  a box of books delivered to my front door each month.  She introduced me to some of my favorite characters... Nancy Drew, Francie Nolan, Scarlet O'hare and so many more.  Mother read almost everything I read, reviewed and edited my book reports and was quick to give her opinion on whether it was an appropriate read for someone my age.

I have almost lived half my life without my mother.  There aren't many days I don't think of her, miss her, especially when November, her birth month, draws near.   I wish we could still share and talk about books.  I know she would love to edit Living Life.

Did someone ignite your love of reading or was it a book that flipped the switch?

Share!

****
"Life is not unlike cinema.  Each scene has its own music, and the music is created for the scene, woven to it in ways we do not understand.  No matter how much me may love the melody of a bygone day or imagine the song of a future one, we must dance with the music of today, or we will always be out of step, stumbling around in something that doesn't suit the moment"

Before We Were Yours begins, 1939,  on a shanty boat tied up on the edge of the Mississippi River, near Memphis, Tennessee.   Four children are left alone when their father is forced to take his wife to a nearby hospital.   With a storm coming the boat is boarded by strangers and the children are taken.  

Using the real life horrors of the Tennessee Children's Home Society orphanage as a backdrop we follow the Foss children through neglect, abuse and separation.    Secrets are uncovered and lives changed when, two generations later, May Crandall mistakes Avery Stafford, daughter and granddaughter of a South Carolina Senator, for her sister.    After seeing a photograph in May's room, Avery begins investigating her family's connection to the orphanage and to May.  What she uncovers could possibly give her father's political foes ammunition to unseat him in the next election.  We are reminded, no matter how or how long we are separated from family we are tied together by some invisible thread.

Before We Were Yours, is an well researched enjoyable easy read.  Because this fictional story is told using memories of actual survivors of the Tennessee Children's Home Society, and the reign of the  notorious Georgia Tann, director of a Memphis adoption firm, I was pulled in and continued to turn the page.   It is unbelievable this could have continued for 20 years. 

It is a good read!

Happy reading.... 

Thanks for the Memories!

Sigh! 

The sun has set on my last day of summer vacation. 

This has been one of the best summers.  
I don't know about you, but sometimes I work so hard at trying to make everything perfect, to keep everything picked-up and running on time, I forget to have fun.  And, I probably make everyone around me miserable. This year, I decided to sit back and enjoy the mess.  What I learned is, well, it is the best.

Here are a few scenes from my messy wonderful summer.

There were kitchen creations.

Help was always welcome

when creating sweet masterpieces.

Roger and I celebrated 36 years.

Sometimes we chased fire trucks,

because,  someone loves fire trucks.

Naps were a must.

Evenings were spent at the pool swimming
and just being cute.

There were surprises parked around every corner.

 There was the occasional impromptu game of 

monster bowling in the kitchen.

And, if you lost your shoes....

check on the stool.  
Seriously?  Where else might they be?

On a sad note.
We said goodbye to our children's dog,
I loving called the Diva.

Sweet Raven is greatly missed.

Summer is over. 
 The toys have been put away, and
the silence is deafening.
Oh, the memories!

I hope you have enjoyed a wonderful summer.
And a great Labor Day weekend.

Autumn.... we are awaiting your arrival!

May I Introduce

Happy Tuesday dear friends!

The last month has been a whirlwind of activity.  I am now back home, back in school and playing catch-up.   I didn't have my computer with me and to be perfectly honest there wasn't time to write or read.. anything.  

Well, maybe that is not totally true.  Each morning I took the time to read my "First 5" meditation,  and before going to bed I checked out pinterest and instagram.  I am addicted to instagram... a pretty picture and a few words.  Do you use instagram?

Without further ramblings may I introduce you to our newest family member...

We have two beautiful and amazing grandchildren, and
we are blessed.

Time Passed

"Some things in life are out of your control.  You can make it a party or a tragedy."

Nora Roberts

I didn't mean to be away so long.
 One thing happened, then another.

Summer passed, I remember so little;
 now autumn is half gone.
One thing happened, then another.

A school year ended, and before I found time to breathe,
a fresh group of faces danced through my classroom door.
One thing happened, then another.

Time passed.

I've missed writing.
I've missed dreaming.
I've missed reading.
I've missed our conversations here.

I've been needed.
At times I feel I've lost control...
Then, I remember, lessons are learned, and
 blessings are found
 when we let go.

Time is precious, and doesn't stand still,
but when you are needed, wanted,
 it is not so hard to give it away without regret.

We will catch up!

To Every Season

To everything there is a season,

 and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die...

                                                                 Ecclesiastes 3             

 

                                                                 

Ecclesiastes 3 has always been one of my favorite passages.  It is my reminder everything has a time; everything changes.  There will always be good times   and there will always be heartbreak.  The trick is to find peace and the grace in both.  I can't say I am always successful in either the searching
 or the finding.  

  This time last year, I was filled with excitement and anticipation of the arrival of my first grandson.  I was hurriedly trying to tie up all the loose ends at school and preparing to leave when the call came.  Our little Wyatt took his time, and after a bump in the road, he arrived beautiful and with all his fingers and toes.  He was and still is such a blessing.  He makes my heart smile.  It is hard to believe he is going to turn one in just over a month.

Last year we awaited a birth...this year we are awaiting a final goodbye.   My dad, as I have been told by hospice, is at the end of his life.  Though he was taken from me three years ago by dementia, I would be lying if I said I am ready.  My brain tells me it is his time; he has lived an amazing long life, filled with adventure, but my heart is aching.  He didn't always choose the easy road, but he accepted his lot and never looked back.  I always thought the song "I Did it My Way" was talking about Daddy.

I've shared my dad's favorite piece of advice here often.  Whenever there were worries and fears, he would say, "you've got to put one foot in front of the other, and walk the path put in front of you".  I'm trying.

Easter, I spent the morning crying with him and holding his hand.  It was the first time he knew I was his daughter in three years.  It is only now I realize this may be the first time I ever truly experienced Easter.  And maybe, this is where grace has delivered me.

I attended an event featuring Ann Lamont last weekend.  Though I've read so many of her books, I was on the edge of my seat listening.  I forgot there were over eight hundred people in attendance.  I felt as if she was speaking to just me, and I didn't want to miss anything.  I had already read so many of the stories she told, but I thirstily drank in every word.  Somewhere in the middle, maybe near the end, she used the words "stop and be present".   I was transported back to my dad's room Easter morning.

I was so afraid as I walked down the corridor to my dad's room.  I walked to the foot of his bed, and he said, "it's my daughter, the best gift"; tears ran down his sunken cheeks.  My fear left.  The next few hours, I sat holding a ninety eight year old hand scarred by both age and life.  A hand that had held mine both physically and metaphorically for so many years.  It was my time to hold his hand.  I didn't fuss over him.  I didn't straighten he bed linens.  I simply sat and held his hand...I was present.

"I do not understand the mystery of grace--
only that it meets us where we are
and does not leave us where it found us."
                     Anne Lamont

Ten Weeks Gone

It began at Christmas, and the end seemed so far away.

Bags and boxes were unpacked, furniture moved and rearranged, and 

changes became routine.

There were sleepless nights, sunny days perfect for walks in the park and around the neighborhood, first visits to the playground, and a long weekend for a road trip.  We had so much time to be together.

There were ice days,

and snow days,

and more snow days,

We awaited the New Year and the groundhog; celebrated  Mardi Gras, 

Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, milestones and birthdays. 

There were a lot of pizza creations

(another story for another time)

  

and nights of manic kitchen fun.

  

We know, though, time has a mind of his own; he is in constant forward motion... seconds turn to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days, days to weeks, and weeks to months.  We think we have forever, then forever is gone.  

In the end we watched our children reunite, then, with a full heart, bid them farewell,

 as they returned to their home and life.

The house is now silent... no more early wake-up calls.

No more late night talks.

It is bittersweet,

but it is how it is suppose to be.

I have a happy heart to have lived it;

and, I have memories to make me smile.

Cherish each moment with those you love.

What We Do

for those we love.

Did I mention there are three dogs living with me?  Two visitors and Willie.  

Willie is having a grand time with his buddy Waldi.  

The third canine is a retired and rescued greyhound.... a retired, rescued, geriatric greyhound.   Raven is a sweet animal, who is just old, and demanding.  I've nicknamed her "The Diva".  Most of the time she just wants the two youngsters to leave her alone and allow her to spend her time stretched out on her blanket.

However, when mealtime comes around or she needs to go outside she can become quite vocal.  She and I have had words more then a few times over her demanding ways.  The two sparing divas.

I have pretty much turn over my sunroom to them, and all has gone pretty smoothly...

until....

Monday morning we woke up to find a layer of ice covering the ground.   The dogs went out early and all seemed okay.  It continued to sleet most of the morning and they were able to keep their feet underneath them.  Later in the day, with a little melt and a refreeze, both the back and the front yards became skating rinks.

At the appointed afternoon bathroom time the door was open and the three took off.  Waldi and Willie had no problem.  They slip and slid.  They survived and didn't seem to mind.  Sweet Raven ran out and pretty much did the splits.  I heard my daughter scream, and I ran out to help.  It took both of us to lift her and ease her back into the house.   Once inside she was okay and returned to her chosen spot.

As night approached we began discussing how we were going to handle Raven's bathroom needs.   We both agreed she couldn't stand up on the ice.   I sprinkled flour hoping we might could create some traction... my five pound bag wasn't going to offer up much of anything but a mess.  I tried to break the ice with a hoe and a shovel.... let's just say I now understand how people have heart attacks when shoveling snow.  I barely made scratches. 

We tried to take her out the garage with hopes she would go to the bathroom on the driveway where earlier a car had been parked leaving a dry spot.   Needing to help her over a small patch of ice I found an old rug and sheets to spread over the ice.   We led her carefully across the bridge to the patch of driveway free of ice, but you know the saying...."you can take a horse to water..."?  Well the same applies to here.  The Diva stood looking at us, shivering.  We brought her back in and brainstormed a while longer.

Heather thought taking her to the front would be easier and safer.  She thought if we could get her onto the grass there would be enough traction for her to keep her balance.  But, how to get her over the ice covered path to the grass?

Yes, I moved the rug, sheet and various other items to make a path over the ice to the grass.

Yep, we love our pets and will do just about anything to make them happy, 

and keep them safe.  The ice is melting and hopefully all will be back to normal this evening.

I'm keeping the rug and stack of random finds ready just incase. 

I hope you are staying safe and warm.

Altered

I had wonderful plans for 2015.  I wanted to spend more time writing.  I've been researching creative writing classes.   I have a list of book to read much longer than anyone could ever conquer;  it continues to grow.  There is yarn collecting in the basket screaming to be turned into fabulous hats, sweaters and maybe a pair of mittens.  So many plans.....

Then things changed; my world has been slightly and temporarily altered.  My writing has fallen by the wayside.  I am so far behind in my reading I am getting notices reminding me of titles on my "to read list".   I can't remember when I've picked up the needles. These last few weeks I have spent my idle hours with  my daughter and Wyatt.  While my son-in-law is away training, my grandson and his mommy are staying with R. and me.  

It has been an adjustment for everyone.  

In every room there is evidence a baby is in the house.  There is a bit more laundry and a few extra trips to the grocery store.  Everyone pitches in making light work.   I have had to acknowledge there are now two moms, and I am in the supporting role.  This is not an easy task for the one who always wanted to be the mother in control.   The first week was a bit chaotic, however, we have slowly eased into a new normal.  

There have been a few sleepless nights...sleep can be overrated.

At night I wake each time the baby cries.  I lost the ability to sleep through an explosion, when his mother was an infant.  Some nights I lie awake hoping he will whimper, then I will know all is well.   I am reminded of the nights I would slip into my daughter's nursery and lay my hand on her back just to feel her breathing.

We have a few more weeks with our daughter and grandson.   Though I had hoped to return to posting routinely,  I will be in and out for awhile longer, as I am going to spend every possible minute enjoying my time with two of my favorite people.  Though my world has tilted a bit; I know when all is set back in order, the quiet will be deafening and the routine will seem a bit lonely.  Today I am here living life with a grateful heart.

Did I mention, there are two extra dogs as well?

The Feast of St. Nicholas

Jolly old Saint Nicholas,

Lean your ear this way!

Don't you tell a single soul

What I'm going to say.

Christmas Eve is coming soon;

Now you dear old man

Whisper what you'll bring to me;

Tell me if you can.

When the clock is striking twelve,

When I'm fast asleep

Down the chimney, broad and black,

With your pack you'll creep.

via vintageimages.org

Nicholas of Myra.
Today as we celebrate The Feast of St. Nicholas, the saint of children and sailors I have thoughts and memories of children swirling through my head and heart.

I love children.
There is nothing  makes my heart happier than to see a smiling child.   Nothing can take me to my knees quicker than hearing of a child being mistreated or harmed.  St. Nicholas loved children.  He cared for all children; most of all, he aided those in need.

We need St. Nicholas today, perhaps more than any other time I can remember.
 I turn on the news, open the newspaper and there are stories of children being locked away, left to perish, or harmed in unspeakable ways.  It is often said "children are our future"  ...no, children are our now.

Though St. Nicholas Day was not a tradition in my home, my mother taught us the need to care for those in need.  Long before there were Angel Trees or red kettles my mother would find a family, through the school, to help out with Christmas.

I grew up in a small Louisiana town.  There was one department store, a dress shop, a gift shop,  two Five & Dimes, and a Sears catalogue store.  Each year, the week after Thanksgiving, Mother would take me to Sears to see Santa Claus.  I've told you, I was told there was no Santa Claus when I was very young, and though heartbroken, I've never stopped believing.  I will now admit, that man dressed in red, scared the beegeezies out of me.   I would leave the house feeling so brave, but the closer we got the more apprehensive I became.  By the time we walked through the door I was clenching my mother's arm and begging her to not make me talk to him.

With my heart beating outside my body, we took our place behind the line of children and moms stringing in and around the washers, refrigerators and lawnmowers.   As I squirmed and whined,  Mother would whisper encouragements; and, as we drew closer she would point out a child or two in the line,  explaining how a visit to Santa would probably be their only Christmas gift.  Some of you may think she was trying to guilt me into accepting a visit to Santa with gratitude.  No, she was setting up act two of our outing.

 Though I always had a long list to recite, it seems once I arrived before HIM I only managed to whimper out....a new baby doll please.   Talking to Santa was never as bad as I made up in my head, but I joyfully welcomed my mother's hand and our quick exit.

After the treat of going to a restaurant for lunch, it was time to fill Mother's wish list.  Her list was filled with children's names, needs and sizes.  We walked from store to store picking out a complete outfit for each child.  Mother selected the clothes, and left the toy buying to me.  Well...she would tell me how much I could spend and I, along with my friend and owner of my favorite dime store, selected one toy for each child.  I always suspected Mr. McGregor pitched in on the toys.

Once home and the gifts were wrapped our outing was never mentioned.
 I was told, after each trip, if I saw someone at school wearing anything we had purchased, I was to keep quiet.  Most years I never knew where, when, how or to whom Mother delivered her bounty.

Today, children visit Santa Claus at malls.  Department stores no longer hire the man in red.  He is an employee of a photography company.  The visit is no longer about the magic or the mystery.    It is about someone making money.  I've heard a visit with Santa this year is about $25.  He is now grouchy and impatient instead of jolly.  Crying children and those with special needs are being sent away.  And, once again those who are the least will be left out....I can only imagine the tear in the heart of St. Nicholas.   Maybe, today as we contemplate and celebrate the life of Nicholas of Myra we need to don our cloaks and take up the staffs and care for those who are in need.  We needn't look far.

Tomorrow we enter the second week of Advent, the week of preparation.  I can't think of a better way to prepare our hearts for Christmas than to give to others.

Hanging in a row
Mine will be the shortest one,
You'll be sure to know

Bobby wants a pair of skates,
Suzy wants a sled
Nellie wants a picture book,
Yellow, blue, and red
Now I think I'll leave to you
What to give the rest
Choose for me, dear Santa Claus;
You will know the best.

Enjoy your weekend!

Welcome December

I do hope you had a wonderful Thanksgiving.   

We spent the holiday with our daughter, son-in-law and precious grandson.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday (how many times have I mentioned this?), and my favorite meal to prepare.  This year, however, I was told the only thing I was to do was to spend time with Wyatt.  It was a tough job, but I was more than happy to take on the responsibility.

Dinner was delicious and having time with family... a blessing.

Now it is time to face the busyness of December.   This year, I had plans to slow down and truly enjoy the season; however, it seems I forgot to share this information.  There was a time when I thought it wasn't the holiday season unless I was overextended and stressed.  I felt the necessity to be on everyone's committee rooster and invitation list.  I couldn't and didn't really want to say no.   January was my month to recuperate.

I am now in a place where I want to be more of a Mary and less of a Martha.  I want to breathe and enjoy the preparation instead of waking up with a feeling of dread and defeat before my feet hit the floor.  I want to spend my time with good friends and family.

One thing I've discovered... it is easier to be added to volunteer lists than removed.   I will fulfill as many expectations as possible, and head toward a less stressful season.

Today as we enter Advent, I hope your days are filled with the beauty of the season and what makes you happy.

What's in a name?

"O! be some other name:
What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;..."

                                                                    William Shakespeare
                                                                    Romeo and Juliet

I have returned home!
I spent the last four weeks with my daughter and son-in-law awaiting
Wyatt's arrival and celebrating his birth.   I was overjoyed to take care of the new parents while they adjusted to their new routine and bonded with their precious gift.

Being away from home for such an extended period of time didn't seem like too big of a deal.  I am truly blessed to have good friends who text and called checking on everyone, asking for photos,  and wondering if I would ever be returning.  It felt good to know I had
people awaiting my return.

To my surprise it took me a few days to find my footing once home.  I took a day to rest before returning to my schedule and meeting up with friends for some catch-up time.  I returned to school for the final two days of our summer camp where I was greeted with lots of hugs, congratulations and chatting.  I don't think any one moment touched me more than the first day when one of my girls, from the school year, entered the school, dropped her backpack and lunch, screamed "Miss Bonnie" and ran down the hall and into my arms.

More than visiting with me, everyone wanted to see pictures of my sweet Wyatt.  And, I was most happy to oblige.   I handed over my iPad allowing all who wished to scroll through my gallery.   I am, after all,  a proud new grandmother.   While meandering through an obscene (I make no apologies) amount of photographs everyone wanted to know my "grandmother" name.

Well.....good question, I suppose.   I was told it was my decision.  I thought I had the perfect name.  I've known for years what my grandchildren would affectionately call me.  I ask opinions from friends who thought it was great.  Things don't always work out though.  Sometimes they are overthought.  My choice of name didn't meet with the excitement I had anticipated.    Arguments were made.  Perhaps I wasn't fully committed;  I didn't put up a fight...I withdrew the name.

For inquiring minds...at the present my new moniker...everyone seems happy... is "Bea".  I suspect though someone else has the final decision....

What do you think?

Oh how I miss him!

Pat-a-cake, Pat-a-cake,

Baker's man

Bake me a cake as fast as you can

Roll it up, Pat it up

Mark it with a "B"
For baby and Me (Bea).

Smitten

I have a new man in my life.

We met in the wee hours of the morning a little over

a week ago, and I unapologetically smitten.

It has been a happy week.  

Samuel "Wyatt"  was welcomed into the world 

May 29, 2014.

Life continues to advance forward.

A new generation.

And I am blessed.