"Time Marches On" or "Once Upon a Time on I-80"

I've been looking forward to this posting for several days, but as always, work before play! There was editing to be done, piano lessons to be taught, surfaces to be dusted, little girls to be fed, dishes to be cleaned, dogs to be dealt with, etc. And repeat.

Ryley and I enjoyed a lovely, rainy weekend in Nebraska with my grandma. She and I had been looking forward to it for several weeks, and it did not disappoint! Lots of good girl-time ensued. We sewed...or rather, my grandma sewed. :-)



Ryley and I just watched as our dolly blanket and piano bench cover took shape under her capable, talented hands, as well as her new sewing machine "toy." Honey indulged Ryley by sewing all the scraps of material into bracelets, dolly belts, etc...Such a good great-grandma! We also talked a lot about her childhood memories. Precious, precious time, and we need to do it again soon!





The entire weekend felt a little surreal, and it all began on Friday night. I had purposed in my heart that I would be more "present" with Ryley on the drive...that I would sing the songs that she wanted to sing, talk about the things she wanted to talk about, etc. So, around 9:30 p.m., we had just exited a patch of fog (through which we had sung rounds to "Row, Row, Row Your Boat") when my front driver side tire blew out. Shredded, in fact. I found myself alone, on I-80, in pitch black, somewhere in the 20 miles between Pine Bluffs, Wyoming, and Kimball, Nebraska. I was in shock...(not here, not now!). I pulled over, got out, and stared blankly at the shredded tire, still smoking. I walked to the back of the van, opened it, and stared blankly inside, wondering where we kept a spare tire and jack. I eventually found them, but in the pitch black darkness, I didn’t know how to use them. I actually don’t think I’d know how to use them in daylight! I shakily called Ryan, and at that point, I didn’t know if I had yet crossed the state line, so I didn’t even know what state I was in. But God was good. He brought to Ryan’s remembrance our Chrysler Roadside Assistance card in his wallet, so I was able to call for help, and a service representative arrived within an hour. In the meantime, Ryley and I prayed, sang songs, and I did my best to make a tired and concerned little girl very comfortable. I feared we would be struck by one of the big semi-trucks zooming past. I felt completely removed from the situation, like it was a very bad dream, and I felt powerless, helpless, and out of control. Good thing God is bigger than all of that. A lot of things could have gone wrong that didn't.

Speaking of vehicles, Ryan traded in his 10-year-old Chevy for a 2008 Hyundai Sonata last week. It was much needed (if you call air conditioning a need), and God provided a good car at the right price. I had originally been against the idea of acquiring another bill just as we are finishing paying off some debt, but then, one fateful morning I had to drive the Chevy, myself. We bought the Hyundai that night. :-)

In my editing for the magazine this week, my responsibility was to write a bio for each of our 20 contributors, and the bio was to revolve around the type of flower that is most like the writer's personality. OK. So, apparently, while other ladies can be likened to something pretty like a water lily or a daffodil, I am most similar to the very rare "Venice Sumac." I had never heard of it, so I googled it. What I found was an article titled, "Is the Sumac garden-worthy?" Hmmmm. So now I know. The flower I am most similar to is a rare plant whose presence in a garden is generally questioned. Figures. ;-)

I look forward to planting my garden in the next two weeks. It is always difficult for me to narrow down the list of vegetables I will plant! I am typically over-zealous. Now if only I could find a way to keep Juliet's excited "Figure 8 of Jubilation" run out of the garden plot....

My husband just got home from work, and it's time to watch LOST over a bowl of ice cream. I wish I could become more regular in my posting. Writing is so therapeutic for me! But time always seems so short. The evenings turn to weeks, and the weeks become months. Ryley graduates to 1st Grade in 15 days.

Craziness.