Patch Work

So ... while reading comments from my last blog (and I do read your comments ... and cherish each one) I came across this one from "ginny" which said:

"I'll be expecting my Cabbage Patch Kid from Woolworth's in the mail."

If you read that and were confused (what the heck does that have to do with dust or jury duty?) I am here to clear that up. If you didn't go back and read my comments, then you are probably ... a normal person.

Here's the story:

In the summer of '82 or '83, I was was the young mother of 3 girls ("ginny" amy gee and mrs. dub) and one boy (sonny-boy). I started out the summer with high hopes of organization and cleanliness. I made the obligatory "chore chart" and I attached a very large, very impossible-to-obtain prize to the other end of the bribe: If they did their chores regularly (made beds, picked up toys, kept all stray Barbie-body-parts out of the couch cushions) then they would receive the most coveted prize of all ... a Cabbage Patch Kid, heretofore known as the CPK. I knew at the moment I told them this, that CPK's were near to impossible to come by, but I didn't worry. Why not? Because the chore chart had been largely ignored to that point in their young lives, that's why.

When they (and by "they" I mean the 3 girls, Sonny Boy was the size of a CPK at the time) got up the next morning and promptly made their beds, I wasn't worried. One week later when the Barbies were fully ambulatory, I started to panic. At this point I knew that the only way to be able to purchase a CPK was to be inside the store at the exact moment the shipment arrived. And at that ... blood would probably need to be spilled.

I put in calls to relatives in several states to be on guard and then proceeded to pray. One unremarkable, hotter-than-hades afternoon, I received a call from PDaddy. He was downtown Phoenix ... on jury duty ... and had gone into a Woolworths at lunch to buy gum, when lo and behold ... the shipment. He was calling to tell me this because he had walked to the Woolworths and he needed me to meet him on the street corner ... STAT ... before his lunch hour was up. I told the girls, who immediately started sobbing as we buckled ourselves into the car and sped off at the speed of light. At the first stop-light I looked down and realized I had no gas. Prayer to the rescue once again. The girls continued to sob while Sonny Boy innocently played with a toy, not realizing that his status as "most fun play thing in the house" was about to go up in smoke.

When we got downtown, there was poor PDaddy holding not one, not two, but three of the gargantuan boxes that held our new grandchildren. He threw them into the car (I believe some injuries were sustained from the sharp corners) and literally sprinted back to the courtroom. How the girls managed to open those boxes is still a mystery, but before long each double-named doll was eternally bonded with her mother and life would never be the same again. (Help me out with the names here girls ... I know that two of them had the first name "Naomi".) Once the dolls were easier to come by, a few more joined the family, but none held places of honor like those first three.

So ... that's what Cabbage Patch Kids, Woolworths and Jury Duty have in common. (I know it was bugging you.)

What's your CPK story?

from sea to shining sea ...

So ... we saw fireworks all right. Forty solid minutes of fabulous, frenetic fireworks. We actually made a whole day of it. (Hot dogs for lunch [at Ted's in Tempe ... originally from Buffalo, NY] but ... alas ... no apple pie.) It was hotter than ... HOT, but once the show started it was as pleasant as can be. This particular show draws the biggest crowds in the Phoenix metropolitan area, but it was the first time we had seen them there.

However ... for forty minutes as I gazed at this spectacle, I took a mental journey over 35 years worth of Fourths. Thirty five years of rockets glaring and bombs bursting. Thirty-five years worth of ... awe.

We have seen fireworks from coast to coast. At Padre's stadium in San Diego. At a high school stadium in Perris CA (where an 18 month old Sonny Boy threw up all over the place.) At the Rose Bowl where we were also treated to a show that involved Wilson-Phillips. (I was no doubt wearing shoulder pads.) We have also seen fireworks over a lake in Gaithersburg, Maryland., we have seen them on the "mall" between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial and from a parking lot in Virginia where we viewed 3 or 4 different shows over our nation's capital.

In our home here we have seen them drenched in sweat. Always, always drenched in sweat. Never, never has it mattered. We have seen them over mall parking lots (and once on the grass across the street where the sprinklers promptly went off) and on the top of parking garages. We have seen them at "Rawhide" and "Westworld". We have seen them at the Diamondbacks game. We have seen them from Dad's high rise office building and from a patch of dirt road up the street from our house. We have seen them with babies and with teenagers and we hope to see them with the grandkids for many years to come.

And I am pretty certain that every single time ... drenched in throw-up or sweat or the awe-inspiring glow from the sky ... I had the presence of mind to think about, and be grateful for ... America.

And to be grateful to Neil for singing about it.

A Few of my Favorite Things

So ... we spent this last weekend with The Gee's, helping the l'il one celebrate his first birthday. Here is is (pictured above) with his very lovely mother, poised to blow out the candles on his cake and (below) with his favorite new gift. It's hard to believe a whole year has passed ... what a grin-filled year it has been! We sure love you, L'il Gee. Thanks for showing so much love in return.

The 4-day adventure included a number of highlights. A multitude of blessings. A plethora of memories -- such as ...

* Six+ hours (each way) of uninterrupted time with the PDaddy. Always, always a good time.
* Dinner on Friday night indulging in my all-time favorite meal: Chicken enchiladas with green sauce, all rice (no beans) and extra sauce at Wahoos Fish Tacos.
* Time with The Gee's. Big and L'il.
* Time with Auntie Vee (pictured below.)
* Being the first one to greet the Birthday Boy when he woke from his nap.
* Extra-bright greenery on both ends of the trip thanks to so much rain.

Plus too many blessings to count.

Or even name one by one.

So ... you tell me ...

So ... I spent part of today working on the bedskirt for the guestroom. I walked back and forth between there and the sewing room (aka "The Kingdom") as I measured and cut. Each time, I took a look at the four poster queen-sized bed which used to be ours and now is basically willed to our oldest daughter.

And for good reason.

You see those finials in the picture above? They are the source of countless memories. Countless. And they all involve this same daughter, who shall remain nameless but is, interestingly enough ... a Vespa-riding-sewing-Martha-loving-Attorney-at-law.

And a thief.

Once she had gone away to college, she would immediately make her presence known when in town for holidays and the occasional summer, by stealing the above pictured finials and hiding them in unusual places. We would find them in our drawers, as parts of centerpieces, under our pillows (uh ... usually found that out the hard way) and one year, while opening our gifts on Christmas morning, we found they were ... our gifts. Oft times, her siblings were in on the joke, on other occasions they were part of the joke. Although ever since the bed is no longer in our room to be scrutinized during her visits, the finials have stayed neatly on top of their respective posters ... and I am sooooo very sad.

My question is this: What the heck are they? I believe we have referred to them over the years as Acorns, but now that I am staring at them on my computer screen, I am doubting that. Help me out here.

And help me think of a good trick to play on her ... she'll be here for Thanksgiving.