Coffee and an old friend

I'm trying to clear out my comics folder. And found this one.

I'm with you on this one Jeremy. I love coffee. If it's strong. And if it's sweet. I just don't like it just plain. And I don't like it weak. When I first went to WI, way back in '97, I spent a lot of time with a lady in her '70's who cracked me up on a regular basis. And never ceased to amaze me. For one thing- when we had to get somewhere and were running late... she drove. Western WI has a lot of hills, valleys (coulees) and curvaceous roads. I never had spent a lot of time driving on roads like that. Well- ok- there was the time that Dad took me to test drive a car some guy had advertised. We're peddling down the road and I'm driving, Dad's in the back seat, Owner's beside me. A curve and I suddenly realize we're heading into that thing a bit fast. And.... I closed my eyes. I did. Truly. Momentary panic. heh.

Anyway- what's that got to do with coffee? Oh yeah- Lillian. Well she drove fast (but only drove when we were in a hurry. That's when I closed my eyes). And she had a coffee joke repertoire. That included.
Standing by the window holding her coffee gazing up at the sky: Looks like rain.... Smells like coffee.
And: Oh careful there- get the coffee away from the edge of the table... it might fall off, it's so weak.
(canned laughter)
I liked hearing her repeat those.
When I was home 6 years ago I had a little time with L. But there were no more coffee stories, no more witticisms of any kind. Oh she could chuckle and rub her hands together at the same time just like always and look delighted. But there was nothing there. Lights on but no one home. It made me ache inside. And this time? There won't be any time with her. At all. Two months ago she was mercifully released from life. I'll miss seeing her in WI this fall but I'm thankful at the same time. Her smile was still there and a tidy 'house' but it was empty.
My Grandma J was the same way. The last time I saw her, she was 'home' if Grandpa was there; if he wasn't, she said over and over- I think it's time we were getting home. Shouldn't we be going home? 'Home' was Grandpa. It was sweet. But sad, too. She, too, has been released from that shell. Thankfully.
I recently saw another Dear Old Friend- my friend's father- with whom there will be no more chats, no more shared experiences, no more shared precious things that make the heart glad. His smile is beautiful and heart warming and ready. His spirit is gentle. And I'm so thankful for the very special time 11 years ago at Shoals. I'd not seen him for a few years and in that time he'd made a decision that lit him up from the inside out. I'd heard about it but couldn't really picture it. And then we ran into each other at Shoals. Every time he saw me he wanted to visit. Every time. He was my friend's father, my very good friend's father-in-law. And because of that he knew about me. And he wanted to share and visit. I'm thankful now for that very precious memory. Seeing him recently it all came back to me and I was glad beyond words that I had that special memory.

All that from a coffee comic. 

Dogs

I'd saved these comics quite awhile ago and just now found them again. I know I've been licked by dogs. Lots of them. And by a few cats, too. Cat tongues are a lot rougher than a dog's in case you didn't know an were actually wondering. I don't know if I ever liked it. I suppose I didn't mind it once long ago in an earlier version of me. I don't really like it anymore. I found that out when I met my sisters' 2 dogs. Princess and Baby. Baby's not so into licking. But Princess is. Yup. Just quietly sitting at the table minding my own business, eating or working or just yakking. And- eeep! Really Dog- I don't mind you but I don't like having my feet licked. Nope, not at all. It tickles. And besides all that- it's been quite awhile since I was ignorant of what all a dog does lick with that tongue. I.Just.Don't.Like.It. But thanks all the same. 

I'm sorry I 'nged' at you...

What? you ask. 'Nged' at you?

Yes. 

What's that?

Good question. But it's something a 5 year old can do to her 6 year old sister and make her cry. 

And there are 1001 other ways to make a 6 year old sister cry. Or a 5 year old sister. Or an 8 year old brother. Amazing. 

And you know what? I enjoyed it. OK, not the 'make them cry' bit but being with them! They're such little bundles of personality and imagination and creativity. Everything is part of The Game. Everything. Every day they played The Game. The details varied from day to day. Once a witch came and turned them into stones (but if you are tortured while you're a stone it doesn't hurt at all... because a stone, after all, doesn't feel a thing!); often they were all horses. And had to whinny while talking. (You try keeping a straight face while your 5 year old niece chats with you and whinnies every 4th or 5th word.) Sometimes they were gorilla monster toads. (I've never really figured out what a gorilla monster toad does but I guess it's terribly scary.)

And of course, the standard 'He's in my space', 'She touched me', 'He's laughing at me', 'She's looking at me'. Really- the crimes that were committed here every day are staggering and horrifying in nature. And the tears! A heart can be broken and healed a hundred times a day. With the 'tears' to 'prove' it... crocodile tears do count Don't they???
I'm trying to remember if we were like that. I reckon we were. I've just conveniently forgotten it. Thankfully. 

We did figure out one solution. Every night someone had to/got to sleep on the love seat in Aunt Nita's room. It didn't seem to matter that it was too short to stretch out on. And Aunt Nita was pretty happy with that arrangement, too. I sort of missed seeing that sweetheart on the love seat last night. 

In spite of the tears and squabbling and broken hearts- these kids are little darlings. They're brilliant. They're Aunties little angels. And they give good-night kisses (well- the girls do!)- and who wouldn't love that?!

My Boys

I have some pix to eventually post but they're still being held hostage on my phone!
I wrote about seeing my sister's kids for the first time. I have a brother who has 2 boys. And I've seen them, too!

The first thing I always notice about those 2 boys is how blonde they are. Especially the little guy. We've had some blondies in our family (my sis, in fact, does) but none are quite as blonde as Owen. And his white-blonde hair and gorgeous eye lashes punched me in the heart yet again. He's tall for his age and very quiet for the most part. But he's a little clown and loves to make you laugh. And then there's Forrest, the big brother. And his cow lick. Honestly, it's the most amazingly beautiful cow lick. And if ever there was the perfectly placed cow lick, his is that one. Just off center in his hairline high on his forehead. I had to make myself not touch it constantly. I mean- who wants Auntie constantly caressing their hairline? No one, likely.
When Ken and Miss arrived that first Sat am, I was blown away by their tall 'little' boys. They were quiet at first but got down to the business of roughhousing playing with their cousins fast enough. But they had big hugs for Auntie first!
I just spent the weekend with them.
Owen's voice is this soft low gravelly sound. He sounds older than he is. He's a sweet boy. He reminds me of a little hobbit- bravely following the big people but not quite sure he's ready to be where they are but very sure he doesn't want to be left behind so on he goes! And those eyelashes. Oh My Goodness. (Did I already mention them?) You've not seen eyelashes quite that long and gorgeous in a long time, I'm pretty sure!
Forrest loves Elvis, has a bit of a twang when he talks (not exactly but there's this 'something' in his voice- it cracks me up).
O & F have a cousin whom I've known since he was born. He's always been a big kid. When he was 3 1/2, he was working back in the salads with us at Menomonie and people thought he was 6. In the 2nd grade maybe. (He's 16 now and everyone still thinks he's older than he is but that's beside the point!) Well... 'my' little Forrest. My little nephew. The very first there was (for me). My Forrest is taller at the age he is now than his cousin was at the same age. Gulp. I'm not really ready for this. These are my babies. My little brother's kids. And I don't want people to think they're 21 when they're just barely 16. I don't want them to look 5 years older than the little kid that they are. I want them to be little kids for a lot longer yet, thank-you-very-much. Ok. 'Nuff of that. 
It was soooo nice to be with these 2 again. To see them play hard and get dirty and dusty and in need of a bath-y. To laugh with and at them. To smother them in chocolate and hot cinnamon! :) And I'm hoping to do it all again very soon!! xo