The 11:55pm Arrival

My BFF lamented today. This is the last of our Internet memories that remind us that we have taken a trip together for the last 5 to 10 years or so. Every time in late November or early December.

I miss her so much it hurts.

I will see her again, perhaps even for a short visit over the holidays. When you've been friends for 24 years, a few months is nothing but a blip on the radar.

But I saw a plane fly overhead. And I'm reminded of our time together and my arrival back into the airport. The 11:55 PM slot on Delta from Atlanta.

I'm usually exhausted, it's been a whirlwind. I won't know when I'll see her again. Sometimes it's a few weeks later sometimes it's not until spring break.

But I will have loved every second of it. And this year, I don't get that chance. Somewhere deep down inside there's some lesson to that. But right now, I long for the days to hear the pilot overhead, the final descent into the airport, baggage claim and ground transportation.

One day soon. Here's hoping.

Doing that Thing

I got a chance to do that thing I love to do- hang out in a flower shop and decorate. Again!

This time for a pretty notable family. With egregious amounts of money. Like I am unpacking $40 Christmas ornaments in cases of 12.

With a 17 foot Christmas tree, and more ornaments than I have ever seen in my life. But oh my goodness, it was glorious and gorgeous and wonderful!

Of course you can't take pictures, there are privacy agreements and not disclosures. But the experience was enough to make me giddy. 

Sometimes those little nudges of dreams coming true actually become reality. 

Yay!

Drop Off

A couple of years ago I began to giggle at my cousin who said she was wearing down a path from our neighborhood up to the middle school and high school. Constant trips up and down the major road, back-and-forth, forgetting this, needing that.

I laughed thinking that my little hamlet of my neighborhood and our elementary school kept me within a good half mile square piece of land.

Late Sunday night, we got the plan together about what we would do when Bubba couldn't get Bus Service this week. It's a critical shortage, Covid is putting a huge damper on transportation and his route was suspended for one week. I also happen to work at Bubba's school during the middle of the day. So first it's a trip down to drop him off. Then it's my errands. Then it's back to the school to work. Then it's back to school at the end of the day to pick him up.

That road that I teased my cousin about… That road and I...we are going to come best friends this week!

Oooof!

Blog Reading

Thirteen years ago I started writing a blog.

10 years ago I started printing them and creating books. When I stopped writing and 2017, I switched over to Instagram primarily and began publishing the books that I was creating in cyberspace.

Three separate times this weekend I have found my children finding the box, and scrolling through their lives. It was exactly what I hoped would happen all those years ago when the words started coming out of my mouth.

Turkey Day

Happy Thanksgiving!

It's not entirely as I had hoped, my wish was that Covid was gone by now and that we could I'll be back around my table. But that's just not the case and I'm so proud of the entire family for adjusting and adapting appropriately. I would rather have us all here next year then to rush something this year.

That being said, it certainly didn't feel exactly like the thanksgivings I'm used to. There's supposed to be cacophony. 

There is supposed to be mashed potatoes overflowing and mountains of gravy and lots of laughs and way too many dishes.

And magically with a snap of a finger, people drift back out with promises and longing for the next year.

Alas, it was just my parents this year. But the best part was the ability to make dinner for my cousin who is working his tail off keeping people healthy. The front line teams in the hospitals deserve so much love.

And we will have next year. And there will be more turkeys and more laughs. 

And yes, even more dishes. 

And I will rejoice and be glad. 

Memories that Leak

 There was a little meme the other day about tears....tears are just memories that leak down your cheek.

It was sweet.

And I thought of it this morning as my eyes began to leak.

Because I was cutting onions! But oh the memory that came back. I think I was pregnant with Alex. Mom, Dad, Hubs and I took a road trip to Lexington, KY to pick up a dresser that was my grandparents. It was destined for Goodwill, and I wasn't going to have that. So - off we went.

Others were there - my aunt and uncle, some cousins - and I was in charge of making something for dinner that had to do with cutting onions.

This is about the time where cooking shows on cable TV really took off. And as a nesting, pregnant lady, I watched a lot of them.

Ina Garten, you have my heart.

Anyway - I got to chopping onions. My uncle, one to offer thoughts and advice, came to share a tidbit he had seen on TV. Alas, it was the same tip I already knew, so I was on the case. And I remember thinking it was fun to know something already.

Probably rude of me to think that. I didn't say anything to him but "yes, thank you!"

But every time I cut an onion, I think of that moment and laugh.

Monday's Back

 ...Back again.

I asked it not to - but it returned.

And we hit the morning running with Bub's IEP meeting with his teacher and SpEd team to come up with the next iteration of ways to support our sweet boy as he preps for Middle School.

Say whaaaaa?

Middle School.

He's got acne at times, he's smelly at times. He eats me out of house and home.

But he's still my tender-hearted, sweet faced boy. The kid who owns the title of making me a mom.

For the first time in 10 years, he joined in our IEP meeting. He is interested in knowing why we're talking about him and what his benchmarks are. I commend him for being grown up about the situation. We felt that if he knew the why behind the reason he gets pulled out occasionally, he might be more apt to doing the work we're all asking of him. It's a hope at least. And he's willing to try.

I'll take it.

Sweet Bubba of mine.