So Much to Write About...I Can't Keep Up!

Hey there, 'member me?  LOL!

(No really, do y'all remember me?)

I used to post here pretty regularly, and now I drop in about once a month or so and dust off the old blog, all the while wondering, "Why am I still doing this again?"  

I know the answer to that question, actually: I want to archive as many family memories as I can, before my 65-year-old brain starts failing me and I don't remember what I had for breakfast today.  (Actually, that's easy, because I don't eat breakfast.  Or lunch either.  My husband and I really only have one meal a day, sometime in the afternoon--unless we're guests of friends or relatives.  But more about that some other time.)  So I want to keep this blog going, if possible...but yikes, if you think you're going to have more time for hobbies when your kids all grow up and leave you to start families of their own, I'm here to tell you that's not always the case.  It certainly isn't the case for me, anyway.

But I'll take a busy life, one so filled to the brim and overflowing with gobs of precious grandchildren that every other interest (except my husband, of course!) has to take a back seat.  I'm one lucky woman, and I remind myself of that fact every single day. 

So much catching up to do...but where to begin?  The last time I was here, summer wasn't even over yet. Since then, so much has happened.  Maybe the easiest way to tackle this is to start from our most recent family goings-on and work backwards through the month(s).  On that note:

My husband and I returned from a kind of epic road trip a couple of days ago.  If you come here often, you know that three of our five boys had settled down here in the same area of VA, and because of our decision to move south in 2017, we get to see them and their wives, and the 14 children they have between them, on a regular basis.  Our oldest lives out in WI now (most likely for good) and our youngest is located outside of Nashville (at least for the foreseeable future).  So we decided to visit both of those faraway boys and their families in one fell swoop, before winter weather sets in and makes travel difficult.  We first headed west to TN for a week, then north to WI for another week.  From WI, we drove back home to VA, with a stop in South Bend, IN on the way, to break up the trip and check on a rental house my husband and his siblings own out there.  We were gone about two-and-a-half weeks.  (We could have been gone for months, I believe; thank you, God, for children who actually like to spend time with their dear old Mom and Dad and are sad when we pull out of their driveways!)

Our week with our youngest son and his wife was delightful.  My husband was able to do a couple of minor projects for them (the last time we visited them, shortly after they bought their first house, he did a few major ones), but mostly the two of us just doted on our little granddaughter (grandchild #20), who is about as sweet and adorable as they come.  At a little over 7 months old, she is all pink-and-white skin, silky tufts of blond hair, big blue eyes, chubbiness with creases, breathy baby talk, heart-melting smiles, and giggles. We are besotted with that little one.

Our son's boss calls him "The Tall One."  He makes us look short, that's for sure.

My husband plays a game called "Stinky Toes" with all the grandbabies, and they love it.

Daddy's girl.

When we left TN, we drove north, stopping for the night at a hotel to break up the trip.  Once we got to our firstborn's WI home and had spent a few days catching up, we were able to do some painting and plumbing projects for him and his wife, who have bought a house out there that sits on 20 acres of land.  But mostly, we just enjoyed lots of time with their six children, whom we miss terribly now that they're so far away.  We had wonderful, hearty, home-cooked family dinners every night, sitting around the long pine farmhouse table our son made with his own two hands years ago.  And we were able to be there to celebrate his 40th birthday with him, which was very special.

It was fun watching our boy guide his four oldest girls, teaching them his secret methods for drawing amazing images using colored icings.  He has always been the birthday cake decorator in their house (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree--but in his case, the student has become the master!  The pictures on his cakes are more professional-looking than his mom's ever were).  Now he's passing on this skill to the next generation.

Tell me you know who Homestar Runner is.  (We wouldn't, if not for our
oldest son, who discovered him his Freshman year at Notre Dame.)

[Gulp!] I have a 40-year-old son.  Yes indeed, I do!   It seems like yesterday that I was pregnant with him, eagerly awaiting his birth and sewing things for his nursery.  I still have this little mobile that I made to hang over his crib. It's hanging in one of our guest rooms here at our house in VA.  I know it's not the best-looking mobile you'll ever see, but I am far too sentimental to get rid of it!

BTW, Our oldest son's wife is expecting baby #7 (grandchild #22) in about a month, so please keep them in your prayers, dear readers!

You know, I never had a problem with turning 40 myself.  But for some reason, our son turning that age kind of gave me a bit of a gut-punch. While my husband and I were driving back home, praying a Rosary together out loud in the car, my mind wandered and I found myself doing math.  Our triplet grandchildren recently turned 6.  And I thought, "How old will my boy be when those triplets turn 40?"  The answer, shockingly, was 74.  The answer was that he would be an old man.  My son, the sweet baby boy for whom I'd made that mobile not too long ago...someday, God willing, he would be even older than I am now.  Well, just thinking about that, my eyes welled up with tears and I was too choked up to say a few of my Rosary responses.

It's all good, though!  The circle of life and all!  As my father always used to say, when it came to getting older: it's better than the alternative.

Okay then, I'm going to stop here before I become too maudlin (am I too late for that?).  But I'll be back as soon as I can.  I need to chronicle the triplets' birthday celebration, for one thing!  Until then, God bless you!

Fiction Imitates Life

I have been AWOL from the blog for quite some time now (what else is new?!).  There have been so many family goings-on since I was here last, and I definitely want to get my online scrapbook of memories up to date.  But there's a reason I haven't been blogging as often as I should...because I've been busy working on a different sort of writing project, another novel that I hope to publish myself as a gift to my grandchildren. I have been working on this book, an historical fiction novel that is a sequel to Erin's Ring (but a "stand alone" book, I believe) for a little more than a year now.  I've blogged about this several times over at my secret blog, where I sometimes write posts dedicated solely to the subject of writing.

I love writing fiction.  I love creating characters who start out inspired in part by real people I know, but then totally take on lives of their own once the writing gets underway.  This happened with both of the books I've had published so far, but especially with Finding Grace. And I'm finding that with this new story titled Marguerite's Diary, there is one character who, though she isn't just like me or meant to represent me, shares many of my thoughts, feelings and passions.  She's a 19th-century Belgian immigrant named Camille--a wife, mother, and homemaker, a pioneer woman with five children and another baby on the way.

This passage (still a WIP) is about Camille, but I could have almost written it about myself, if I'd lived when and where she did:

Home was Camille’s happy place, to be sure; and she felt that making a warm, safe, beautiful dwelling where her family could grow and flourish was a noble endeavor, a true vocation.  She was a wife first and a mother second, and then homemaker was her third-highest calling.

Making a home: it took so much more than wooden planks and shingles held together by nails!  It was no use having a well-built roof that would shield them from the weather if what was found underneath that roof wasn’t cared for properly.  Camille believed that it was a wife and mother’s job to create for her family a domestic Church, an earthly reflection of what they could expect to find in the next life, in Paradise.  That’s how seriously she took her housekeeping duties.  A home needed someone to tend to it lovingly, to keep it clean and orderly, to give it the decorative touches that might not even be consciously noticed (by that trio of little ruffians she’d birthed, especially, and their doting father) but were unconsciously appreciated, nonetheless.  She had made this home her life’s work, and she loved it so.  Indeed, she loved the safe haven she and Henri had created for their family out here in the Wisconsin wilderness so much that she sometimes wondered if she’d made an idol of it.  Did she love it too much?

Camille had to remind herself daily that this home was not her real home, and that her only purpose on this earth was finding her way to that one.  To becoming a saint in Heaven.  She prayed fervently for detachment from worldly comforts and desires, but she knew that her great weakness, her attachment to the things of this world, was something she would always struggle to overcome.  Every time she thought of her good fortune—of her happy marriage and healthy children, of Henri’s financial success that had afforded them the lovely nest she’d feathered with such care—she was also assailed with a fear of losing everything.   “God, help me to yearn only for You!” she would silently cry, whenever she became too enamored of the things of this world.

But the joy Camille felt when she looked around the large, sturdy wood cabin Henri had built for his family was achingly deep, almost painful in its intensity.  All about her, the history of her most cherished loved ones was on display.  Everything she saw, no matter which way she turned, filled her with satisfaction and gratitude, and her heart was full to overflowing.  Even the sight of dirty overalls tossed haphazardly on the floor by one of her careless boys was merely a reminder of how lucky she and Henri were to have so many surviving children, whose clothes bore the telltale signs of a busy life filled with farm chores and tree climbing and all kinds of outdoor activity. 

She stooped down to pick up the overalls, adding them to the laundry basket in the corner.  It was full to overflowing and would keep her busy at the washbasin in the coming days. But how lucky she was to have so many dirty clothes to wash!  It was a sign that there were many bodies to care for in this house.

Camille’s eyes, watery now, lit on her grandmother’s dishes, which were lovingly arranged on a shelf of the oak sideboard in the dining area.  She moved closer, so that she could better see the delicate hand-painted flowers that graced the rims of the porcelain plates.  She licked her thumb and used it to wipe away a bit of dust she’d spied on the edge of one piece.  Next, she removed the gilded lid of the sugar bowl and checked to make sure that it was full; it was, so she gently replaced the lid.

From the sideboard, the happy homemaker made her way to the pie safe in the kitchen.  She opened the door to check on the two fresh ones stored there.  She leaned in, breathed deeply, and smiled; they smelled delectable, and Henri would be so pleased!  Her husband worked so hard to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table; making him dishes that he loved was her favorite way to show him how grateful she was and how much she loved him.

So now you know how weak I am, how much in need of grace I am...but also how much I love being a wife and mother and making a home for my family!

I am 126 pages into a book that will probably be about 200 pages long by the time all's said and done.  It's a big BIG story, involving an amazing and awe-inspiring historical event about which few people really know (I never did!).  I have gotten to the point in the narrative where things really start to heat up--and it's at times like this that I usually get a case of writer's block, because I'm afraid I won't be able to do the story I'm working on justice.  Wish me luck, dear readers!  I could use it (as well as prayers, of course!).

*I used the phrase "full to overflowing" twice in the above passage; I kind of did it on purpose, to show how many things in Camille's life could be described that way.  But do you think it's too repetitive?  (Come on, play editor!  Leave me a comment, I promise I won't be offended!)

We're Still Havin' Fun, and He's Still the One

Well, it's been almost a month.  So I figured it was time to update this poor old neglected blog of mine!

I can hardly believe the summer is almost over!  The last time I was here, I was telling you all about our family vacation week at our Oyster Haven Vrbo house in early July.   Since then, my husband and I have been staying at his childhood home a few miles away from our place, going to daily Mass, visiting with relatives from both of our families who are still in the area, and working hard at Oyster Haven on Saturday turnover days (making up the beds, hauling dirty linens to the laundromat, etc.).  We try to spend as much time out on the boat as we can through the week--which hasn't been as much as we'd like, however, because it's been an unusually cold and rainy summer up here.  But we grab our opportunities when we can.

My husband and I both turned 65 this summer and got signed up for Medicare.  So there's that.  And he's now officially completely retired.  He took an early retirement package from his airline back in 2020, when most flights were being cancelled due to you-know-what; but now, there will be no more paychecks and frugal living has begun in earnest!

But there IS a bonus to getting old: if your Medicare plan has Silver Sneakers, that gets you into most gyms for free!  (My husband is at the gym right now, enjoying his free membership, but I'm sitting here blogging. What is wrong with this picture?!)

My husband and I also celebrated our 50th anniversary a few days ago.  Not our wedding anniversary.  The anniversary of the day he asked me to go steady with him back in 1973, when we were just a pair of bright-eyed 15-year-old kids.  Little did he know just how steady we were going to go!  (I wrote a post about this more than 10 years ago, if you're interested.)

I just ordered this sign to put up outside our rental property.  It's from an Etsy shop, and I tell you, Etsy is just the best.  You can find anything your little heart desires on there!

On Sunday, we will be heading to VA for a week.  Our triplet grandchildren are turning six soon, and we don't want to miss their big birthday celebration.  Plus, we've been away for a long time, and I need to reconnect with everyone there and spend a little time in my own house, with my own things about me.  (Mary Kate Danaher, anyone?  Do you recognize that line from The Quite Man, the best John Wayne movie ever?)

Hey...What just happened?!?!?

Ha ha--I've been gone for about 45 minutes now, because thinking about The Quiet Man and how much I absolutely love it got me going down all kinds of rabbit holes, watching YouTube interviews with Maureen O'Hara and John Wayne and clips from the movie...but I'm back.

Now where was I?

Well, I think perhaps the rest of this post will be a bit of a photo dump, with some shots I've taken that show what the lake life up here is like.  Not too shabby, readers.  Not too shabby at all.

50 years later, and there's still no one I'd rather go steady with.  As the song goes, we're still having' fun, and he's still the one.

I think my husband's cousin, who took this picture, used some sort of filter on it,
because we look kind of dewy-skinned.  But I'll take it.

Okay, well, hopefully I'll be back before too long.  Until then, I hope you are having a blessed summer!

Four Generations, Fourth of July Fashions, and Fireworks

I have the hardest time keeping up with this blog!  I can't believe it's already been almost a week since our kids left, after our glorious family vacation week together at Oyster Haven!  And I never even blogged about our Fourth of July festivities, which were pretty sensational this year.

My mom--known as Mimi to her grandkids and great-grandkids--came over to join the chaos one day, and we were able to get this photo of four generations: Mimi, me, my youngest son, and his baby girl. My mom will be 88 years young in September; doesn't she look amazing?

On Independence Day, our whole gang went over to the neighborhood where my husband grew up and where his family still has a house on the lake (it's just a little over three miles down the road from Oyster Haven), to participate in the annual Fourth of July parade.  Many of my husband's siblings and their families were there, too, forming quite a lengthy string of Pearls. Everyone was dressed as patriotically as can be. Here are two of our little granddaughters all gussied up to march in the parade.  They are practically neighbors in VA, two weeks apart in age and besties--and also very much a pair of miniature fashionistas.

My boys are always good for humorous attire on the Fourth--or anytime, actually.  Here are the two youngest, #'s 4 and 5.  I heart them big time.

One of our wee grandsons, all decked out in Stars and Stripes, was pretty worn out from all the excitement before the parade even started.

Our newest star-spangled granddaughter has the same nickname as this great-aunt who's holding her.  This lovely lady is one of my husband's four sisters, who happens to also be the godmother of this sweet baby's daddy.

After the parade, we headed back to Oyster Haven for a hamburger-and-hot dog cookout and more beach time.  And then as the sun set, we got ready to watch the spectacular fireworks show that our neighbors put on every year.  How wonderful that we only have to go to the edge of our yard to see it!

I have been incredibly overtired since our week ended.  I've been taking naps every day--which is so unlike me.  I know part of it is that it was an extremely tiring week.  I mean, we had 26 people staying in a house that sleeps 13 comfortably (13 is the maximum number of guests we allow for our Vrbo renters).  And only 10 of those 26 people were adults.  So there was a lot going on: a lot of noise; a lot of meal preparation, serving, and cleanup; a lot of playing lifeguard down at the water's edge (or in the water!); a lot of getting up early with little peeps.  

So yes, I'm tired.  But I also think I'm just feeling a little low, now that my people are all gone.  I love having them gathered all together so, so much--in spite of the craziness of it.  We look forward to that week at Oyster Haven all year, and it comes and goes so quickly.  I'm sure I'll get over this blah feeling soon, though, once I've really caught up on my rest.

Luckily, my husband and I like each other.  I mean, we really like each other.  And so we'll enjoy the rest of the summer here together, attending daily Mass, saying our Rosaries out on the boat, visiting with my mom and other relatives who are still in the area, enjoying the lake.  And making up the beds on weekend turnover days at Oyster Haven (as well as keeping an eye on the quality of our cleaners' work!  We might be a tad OCD about our beloved lake house...).

Our 3-and-a-half-year old granddaughter who lives near us in VA (the one in the red dress, floppy hat, and sunglasses in the above photo) was sitting with me one day at Oyster Haven, bemoaning the fact that we are going to be at the lake for the rest of the summer.  "When will you go back to your real house, where you belong?" she asked.   Oh my heart!  Isn't it wonderful to be loved and missed like that?

So yes, we do belong in VA.  Most of the time.  But right now, it feels right to be here with just my guy, living the lake life that's in his blood.  We'll be back to our "real house" soon enough.

Lakeside Pearls 2023: It Doesn’t Get Much Better Than This

No time to blog.  So here’s a photo dump.  One picture is worth 1,000 words, after all.  😊