Birthday Reminds Me of Wedding

Today is my friend Beatrice's birthday.  Today is also my nephew's 32nd birthday.  The old saying is true: the older one gets, the faster time seems to pass.  I remember coming out to Boulder, from Chincoteague, with Mom for my sister's wedding to Jim.  It was a dry summer, and they had chosen to get married on Boulder Open Space - an open valley with the Rockies looking over us.  I hadn't been to a Quaker wedding before, and wasn't sure what to expect.  Other than hiring a baker to make and decorate the wedding cakes, the family (all of Jim's large Snow clan and Mom and I) worked our buns off for a full week to get everything ready...  Ann, Jim's mother, made the bouquet; we decorated the building for the reception; we made plates and platters of finger-foods, and purchased cases of soda, lemonade, beer, wine, and sparkling grape juice.  The reception took place in Eldora Canyon, at the hall, which also contained several swimming pools.   AT the beginning of a Quaker wedding, there is 15 minutes of silence, so that each person present may commune with God.  At the age of 25, I thought I could control myself for 15 minutes.  I did not count on my Mother "playing" with me during this time.  As members of the family, we sat directly across from Kathy and Jim, in wooden chairs placed in a huge circle in the meadow.  It was August 14, and grasshoppers were plentiful - small, tan and brown grasshoppers, never larger than 3/4 of an inch - but a great many of them were present.  Mom and I sat down to begin our 15 minutes of silence; then she waggled her fingers at me, and pointed at my skirt.  I stopped counting when I reached 45 grasshoppers that were resting on me.  Mom had about the same number on her skirt.  Then she started flicking the grasshoppers off of her skirt, and onto me, using her index finger.  I have to admit, that while I didn't make a sound, my actions drew a lot of eyes and quirked eyebrows.  I did not jump up, or dance around - but I was going into frantic convulsions, trying not to laugh hysterically. I bit the inside of my cheek until I drew blood, and I ended up rubbing the stitches in my back against the chair back in an effort to keep control.  After the silence, the marriage ceremony went on without a hitch, Kathy and Jim kissed, and then we led the way up to the reception hall.  Once there, I was barraged with questions - and Mom, of course, acted totally innocent.
  Other than the fun we had at the reception, and my poor behavior in the wedding circle, I only remember that the wedding cakes were carrot cakes with a rainbow on top, and that we ran out of drinks, and sent a couple of friends down the Canyon to the local convenience store, where we cleared out all of their cold drinks, most of their other drinks, and all the ice they had in stock....
  And Mike was on the way!

Merry Christmas!

   Merry Christmas! - God Jul! - Feliz Navidad!
It's 7 degrees outside, humidity is at 86%, and there's about four inches of snow on the ground. It started to snow about 6 last night - if you were looking west, toward the mountains, you could see the snow, looking like mist, begin up on the mountain tops, and slowly creep down to the level of Boulder. It was beautiful. Other than my three trips over to spend time with, and feed and medicate, Sasquatch and Tugger, I plan on being home with Lovey and Nedi. I had thought I'd have a car to use, but they left me the stick shift, which I can't drive... So I'm travelling by bus and foot today and tomorrow. At least I'll have the Audi beginning Thursday (an 8 minute drive is preferable to a 45 to 90 minute bus ride, with connections and walks at both ends, when it's this chilly outside).
  I hope this day brings you laughter and love, the companionship of family members and others that you hold dear, and the feelings of peace and tranquility when you can finally collapse in your bed at the end of the day. I wish you the best of everything in life today and always!

Brownies and Laughter

Gee, it's above freezing - actually, it's 37 degrees outside and the sun is shining.  The snow is still melting and evaporating away (there are still 5 inches in the back yard); and the weather folks are calling for partly sunny skies until the weekend, with highs in the upper-30s and low-40s.  I've got a head-cold, but am otherwise OK.  I handed out 20 packages of brownies this morning - and I only missed one person that I'm aware of.  And last night, after I went to bed, I was reading and I ended up laughing out loud - a huge belly laugh - sometime after midnight.  Lovey sat up from her position on my knees and gave me a dirty look, while Nedi came to investigate.  It was the description of a poor sea-sick man in extremely rough seas, below decks with quite a few people, and a loose crate of chickens that kept sliding, as the ship was tossed (this was in 1760).  In any event, I easily identified with the nauseated character, and having groaned a few times in commiseration, I ended up laughing when he fell onto the chicken crate, which broke, and the ensuing havoc the chickens caused in the cabin.  It was hysterical.
  And, I have to ask others, did I miss out on knowing something?  I had no idea that actor Eric Fleming had a completely "rebuilt" face - I always thought that his skin looked tight and stretched on his face, but I had no idea that he had a 200-pound lead weight smash into his face while he was working with the Seabees in World War II.  Of course, he had multiple reconstructive surgeries....  so now I wonder what Edward Heddy looked like before his accident and his taking the name Eric Fleming.  I always loved him on Rawhide and in The Glass-Bottom Boat - and he was one of Mom's favorite actors.  And I guess the circumstances of his death are still a mystery, too - he went out of a canoe just before extremely rocky rapids on a river in Peru.  He was due to be married in two days, and filming had been going well.  One of the photographers said that he "dove" into the rocks....  All I know is that Mom was devastated when it was announced he was dead.   (And I think they didn't find his body until two days later?....   Guess I need to read up on it.)
  Not much else going on here.  I am sorry that Whitney Houston passed away at the age of 48, but I am already tired of hearing about it.  Last night, I checked the "Entertainment News" section before going to bed, and all 10 headlines had her name in them.  It's overkill, as usual, with the press.