Having a One-derful time

TG and me with five of the eight

A few weeks ago, our grandson Guy turned one year old.

We all went to Knoxville for his birthday party, which was held at the home of Brittany's dad, Scott, and stepmom, Karen.

Their house is beautiful and they were so gracious. There was a mountain of fabulous grilled meat, including chicken and ribs. And there were cowboy beans and mac and cheese and other succulent delights.

There were loads of balloons

Baby Guy began walking several weeks ago and was toddling all over the place.

Ember, who will turn five in December, is an even bigger big sister than she used to be.

Since Andrew is a pilot, the theme was aviation. Brittany had thought of everything. In the foyer, she had custom-made cookies arranged atop an old suitcase. 

Passenger Guy, Destination One Year

There were clever touches such as a wheeled cart containing an assortment of single-serving chip bags, with a sign reading In-Flight Snacks.

On the kitchen island was another sign designating the area as the Fueling Station. Adorable.

Many of Brittany's family members were there, and it was good to see all of them again.

Ember was caught up in the spirit of things

TG and I traveled to Knoxville the day before, arriving around dinnertime, and enjoyed a pleasant evening meal and a restful night of sleep.

At our age, approaching big events slowly and deliberately has become paramount. Nothing sudden. IYKYK.

The others -- the Chericas (Chad, Erica, Rhett, and Elliot a/k/a Skippy) and Maudag (Mike, Audrey, and Dagny) -- got up early on Saturday morning and made the four-hour trip in time for the party's one o'clock start.

There were in-flight snacks

After lunch, Andrew and Brittany presented Guy with his smash cake. There was a single candle on top and at first it startled him and there were a few tears.

But the candle was blown out and then removed, and Guy extended a curious hand and extracted a hunk of cake and frosting, and tasted it, and quickly got into the spirit of the occasion.

Cupcakes were provided for everyone else and it was such a good time.

Guy was wished a happy birthday in such cute ways

Then the party repaired out to the patio where Andrew assembled all of Guy's birthday presents and everyone was chatting and visiting.

A kiddie pool and some water toys kept the smaller children busy for a good while.

Our handsome Andrew is a proud and loving dad

Towards the end of Baby Guy's birthday party, after Audrey and I had folded all of the gift bags that we could, and smoothed all the tissue paper that was salvageable, something about which I am obsessive at every party, I insisted on getting some pictures of me and TG with the five of our grandchildren who were there.

The mini-shoot resulted in some great pictures and I'm so glad that we did that.

Well hey little feller

Later, TG and I plus Maudag, who were staying at the same hotel as us, returned there so that Mike could check himself into his room and Audrey and Dagny into theirs.

Andrew joined us with Guy and Ember, and we got coffee and all sat in the hotel lobby for a few hours, talking and visiting some more.

Brittany had thought of everything

Brittany went home as she had some school assignments that needed her attention, and she welcomed the hours of silence.

After a quiet evening and another good night's sleep, all of us from Columbia got up, got ready for church, packed up, checked out of our rooms, and went to Sunday morning service at Temple Baptist Church, where TG and I and our children were members for several years in the '90s.

Guy was fascinated by this balloon display

We saw many old friends and even a few family members there, and it was a great service with beautiful music and excellent preaching, and we enjoyed it.

After that the children were cranky with fatigue and hunger, so we all descended on Cheddar's Scratch Kitchen for lunch.

There was a brief wait to be seated but once we were, the food was delicious. Everyone got full. Then it was time to head home.

There were a few tears as the candle was extinguished

Before the trip got really good and underway, we all stopped at the new Bucc-ee's Sevierville location, to change clothes and get cold drinks and prepare for the drive.

The trip through the Smoky Mountains was uneventful and we reached home around eight o'clock that evening.

Speaking of the Smokies (sort of), a day or so before we left for Knoxville, my dear friend Marsha had a birthday.

This cake is really quite good

She was recovering from surgery and was off work for several weeks, so one day when she was feeling stronger, we had her over to have a proper celebration.

Audrey and Dagny came too because they also love Marsha.

We had refreshments -- I'd made chicken salad -- and after that, we had some gifts for Marsha. She said she had a good time and wished us well on our trip to Tennessee.

Before our trip, we celebrated our friend Marsha

Marsha loves Tennessee, loves the Smokies, and would like to live there after she retires. She goes to Pigeon Forge on vacation every year and really gets into the whole vibe. 

That's why for one of her gifts, I gave her a throw pillow with the white tri-star design of the Tennessee state flag, only set in orange, because like my own Andrew, she is a huge Vols football fan.

(The Volunteers are the teams of the University of Tennessee. Go Big Orange.)

Go Vols ... Go Big Orange

But back to our Knoxville trip, what a blessing to be with Andrew, Brittany, Ember, and Guy for our grandson's first birthday.

Fun Fact: Guy was born forty-five years to the day from TG's and my first date.

That's right! Our first date was on Thursday, August 24, 1978. Guy was born on Thursday, August 24, 2023.

Guy was ready for some pool splashing

On that warm night in Chicago, on an ordinary Thursday, on a first date, I couldn't possibly have imagined that forty-five years in the future to the very day, our third grandson would be born.

On that night in the summer of 1978, TG took me to old Comiskey Park on the south side of Chicago, for a major league baseball game between the Chicago White Sox and the Kansas City Royals.

But there were many presents to open

I still have the shirt that TG wore that night. He looked so handsome in it. 

(It wasn't official Cub fan gear; we weren't Cub fans then. That happened later for TG and much later for me.)

I had never been to a professional sporting event of any kind before that night.

We gave him this pilot hat and a book about planes

TG was not particularly a White Sox fan either, but he loved baseball and attending the game made sense to him for a first date.

He tried to explain some things about baseball to me, by way of making conversation, but little if any of it sank in. I know this because decades later, he had to explain it all again. I think I've got it now.

We also got him this outfit for cooler weather

(Batting Average should be .300 or higher. Earned Run Average -- that's for pitchers -- should be under 3.00 ... don't get those decimal points in the wrong place and whatever you do, don't get the under/overs confused.)

That reminds me of something my Mamaw said many decades ago. Her youngest son and my mother's youngest brother, my beloved Uncle Dodie, had played golf with some friends. Duffers all.

Dagny made sure she got to squeeze her baby cousin

They played an eighteen-hole course with a par of seventy-two.

When he got home, Mamaw asked Dodie what the score was. He told her that he shot over one hundred but that his friends had shot in the nineties.

Mike caught Audrey and me doing good

That's good, baby, she said. You won.

She went to a professional baseball game once too. At the seventh inning stretch, she stood with the crowd, gathered up her purse, and said Thank the Lord that's over.

Me and five of my grandbabies

Mamaw was a hoot. But not a sports fan.

And that's okay. 

As for TG and me, we are most definitely sports fans. I limit my enthusiasm to baseball, specifically the Chicago Cubs and occasionally the Pittsburgh Pirates and the New York Yankees.

Dagny squeezed Ember at a Starbucks

TG likes and follows lots of sports, but will no longer watch the NFL and rarely the NBA. You know why.

But baseball we can agree on, which is why in a few days we are headed up to Chicago to take in two late-season games at iconic Wrigley Field.

(We will definitely both be decked out in official Cub fan gear. We've each got lots.)

Dagny posed with one of the lions outside the church

Wrigley Field -- a/k/a The Friendly Confines -- is one of only three original ballparks in America. As in, it's never been torn down and replaced with a newer, more modern one.

Do you know the other two ballparks in America that can make the same claim? I regret to say that I have never been to either of them (for a game; we have toured one of them), but while there's life, there's hope.

If you know which two they are, without looking it up, tell me in the comments.

Skippy contemplates the menu at Cheddar's

And even if you have to look it up, tell me in the comments.

Meanwhile we're having some beautiful weather here, no longer sweltering. Speaking of firsts, be it birthdays or dates, the first day of fall is a mere eleven days away.

He was born 45 years to the day after our first date

Speaking of eleven, today is nine eleven.

Never forget.

On the twenty-third anniversary of that awful and heartbreaking day, may God bless America and confound her enemies both foreign and domestic. Especially domestic.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday

Stand for the Land

Love to see you smile! Seen in West Virginia as we traveled.

TG and I had three reasons for our recent trip to Cleveland, Ohio.

One: To attend a baseball game -- the Cleveland Guardians Indians versus our beloved Chicago Cubs.

(I will always call them the Indians. Especially since they were the team that the Cubs beat 8-7 in extra innings during the seventh game of the World Series, played at Wrigley Field on November 2, 2016.)

Two: To see our niece Joanna and her husband Jacob and their little sons, Freddy and Andrew. I shared in this post about Jacob, who is a concert pianist and professional musician; and

She adorns a corner of Riverside Cemetery

Three: To visit Lake View Cemetery, where Jacob and Joanna's second son, Noah, is laid to rest, and also to pay our respects at the grave of Ray Chapman.

Baby Noah, afflicted with Trisomy 13, lived for 42 days.

Ray Chapman is famous for being the only major league baseball player to die as a result of being hit by a pitch.

It happened during a game in New York in August of 1920. Ray Chapman, who played shortstop for the Cleveland Indians, was twenty-nine years old at the time of his passing.

Giving a new meaning to "keeping up with the Joneses"

If you're so inclined, you can read the whole story about the terrible accident that claimed Ray's life here.

And if the baseballs and other memorabilia left at his grave are any indication, he has not been forgotten.

As if what happened to Ray were not bad enough, what his wife Katie and little girl, Rae endured after his death is heartbreaking too.

Katie delivered her beloved husband Ray's daughter six months after he died, and named her Rae Marie. She later remarried and in 1926 had another child, a boy.

Me with Freddy, nearly 5, and Andrew, 17 months

But, still deeply depressed over losing Ray, she committed suicide in April of 1928. Almost exactly one year later, their daughter Rae Marie, age eight, succumbed to measles.

I learned of all this back in the spring and that's when plans were made to attend the Cubs game in Cleveland, and to visit Lake View Cemetery and to spend some time with Jacob and Joanna and the boys.

We left on a Sunday afternoon and drove to Beckley, West Virginia, where we spent the night.

The next morning we drove the rest of the way to Cleveland, where our first stop was Riverside Cemetery.

I got this book at the dollar store. It's good. Mike gave me the pen.

I didn't know anyone there, but we had a few hours to while away before checking into our hotel and then going to Jacob and Joanna's house for dinner, and the weather was splendid.

Riverside is a typically glorious older cemetery, with acres and acres of monuments. Beautiful place.

It's unfortunate that I was there at the wrong time of day, because to walk and photograph this cemetery during the golden hour (just before sunset, or just after sunrise) would be a real treat.

You need some Garnier Thiebaut towels

But it was seventy-three degrees with low humidity, and the cicadas were doing a continuous winding-ringing noise from their sticking places in thousands of mature trees, and although the light was not right, it was a near-idyllic experience.

I took lots of pictures in spite of sub-optimal conditions, but really only two appeal to me enough to show to you.

The first is an upshot of a female figure high on a pedestal, with one arm stretched heavenward and the other in an interesting position relative to the outstretched one, as if she had just released something.

Cleveland's best-kept secret

You can see in that picture how blue and cloudless the sky was.

The other is the boulder marking the grave of the Joneses. The ones who, in this case, you may or may not want to keep up with.

After checking in at the InterContinental Suites Hotel, we got reorganized and set out for our niece's home about five miles away.

The main gate of Lake View Cemetery

Cleveland is, among other things, all about the Cleveland Clinic, and buildings for that health care system are everywhere. They don't match; conceptualizing and constructing those edifices must have kept a great many architects and craftsmen busy for a good many years.

Once at Joanna's house in a cozy neighborhood where most if not all of the domiciles were built during World War II, we found Jacob grilling chicken out by the garage and the two little boys playing nearby.

Joanna, expecting again and due next February (25 in 2025! my sister crows, that being the number of grandchildren she will have when this child arrives), came out of the house smiling and reaching to hug us.

Cenotaph for the family of Eliot Ness

My niece, my sister's youngest child, is one of the most positive, happy, upbeat people you will ever meet, and she loves being a wife and mother and homemaker, and she is a gracious and thoughtful hostess.

I had not come empty handed; I had a gift for Joanna of two cobalt-blue bottles full of twinkling fairy lights, and a loaf of homemade banana-nut bread for the family, and dollar store transformer vehicles for each of the boys.

Joanna told us that she has to protect her gardens (she has more than one) with netting supported on tall sticks, or the deer that roam freely in Cleveland will eat everything!

On an August day in 1920, Ray Chapman became a statistic

But she served us delicious grilled zucchini along with the chicken, and a green salad, and for dessert there were skillet peaches (she got those from the farmer's market) with real whipped cream and chopped pecans.

We had the nicest visit, and when we left around nine, there were plans to meet the next day at Baby Noah's grave, and spend some more time together before TG and I were due at the ball game.

Our hotel was so comfortable and we settled in to look at our devices (we play word games to keep our minds sharp; not sure it's working in my case) while Forensic Files played nonstop on the TV.

In due time I took a refreshing shower. The towels! They were so thick, so fluffy, that I took pictures of the tags so that I can buy some of these for my own house.

Baby Noah is buried not far from the twisty oak

I had never had my consciousness raised to Garnier Thiebaut towels but they're on my radar now. There was a matching robe in the closet but I did not wear it!

The next morning we went to the Landmark Restaurant for breakfast. I am always looking for local non-chain diners and restaurants where I can get an omelet -- spinach and feta being my favorite -- and TG can get whatever looks good to him.

When we walked into the restaurant it was quickly apparent that we were the only white folks present. It is a large place in an old building, and other diners nodded pleasantly at us as we were seated.

I had one of the top three spinach and feta omelets I have ever been served, and the best bacon I have ever eaten, period, hands down. I even ordered a second round of that bacon.

No doubt the deer have eaten the flowers by now

When we had concluded our meal and TG had paid the bill and we were heading out for Lake View Cemetery to spend a few hours walking around before meeting Joanna and her family, TG told me that the owners of the restaurant are white.

He knew because the wife was serving as cashier and her husband was doing the cooking. All I know is, it was delicious and I would not hesitate to eat there again if I ever end up in Cleveland in the future.

At Lake View we saw the cenotaph* dedicated to Eliot Ness and his wife and son. Ness was a legendary lawman and author of The Untouchables, which was made into a 1987 Hollywood movie starring Kevin Costner as Eliot Ness.

*A cenotaph is a marker that memorializes more than one person, any or all of whom may or may not be buried there. In Ness's case, he died in 1957 and his wife and son lived until the 1970s, but the ashes of all three were scattered in a pond at Lake View Cemetery in 1997.

Little brother Andrew Sebastian

President James Garfield is also entombed at Lake View. I did not visit his impressive grave site but TG did and said it was fascinating.

After a while we drove back to the office, where I had arranged to meet with Joanna and family at two o'clock. I wanted to put flowers at Noah's grave and it was nice that there were pretty bouquets for sale in a cooler in that office.

Flowers purchased, we met our party and set out for Noah's resting place.

We had actually already found it earlier, since its coordinates are listed on Noah's Find a Grave page.

He ain't heavy; he's our brother

Joanna remarked when I placed the flowers on Noah's little headstone that the deer would only eat them. I kind of like the thought of a gentle-eyed deer bending over Noah's grave to munch on the flowers.

After a lovely time there with Noah's family, we were invited to join in their tradition of going for ice cream after a cemetery visit.

And not just any ice cream. Joanna told me that Mitchell's of Cleveland is the best. After enjoying a Taster's Duo consisting of one scoop of dark roast coffee ice cream and one scoop of lemon sorbet, I would have to concur. 

It was exceptional ice cream.

Freddy's selection featured sprinkles

After our treat, we walked outside for a bit. The little boys played under a huge silver sculpture of a hand that looks as though it's trying to walk across the ground.

After a bit it was time for us to regroup and get back to the hotel and set out for the ball park.

We said our goodbyes. Jacob and Joanna and the boys went out into the sunny day and we made our way back to our room.

TG wanted us to ride the city bus to and from Progressive Field, and since we only had to walk across the street to get on, I was okay with that.

Once at the ball park, we got into a long queue but it moved very quickly and before we knew it, they had scanned our tickets on my phone and we were inside.

A hand for the land

Upon entry to the venue we were each handed a bright pink pouch which, when I focused on it, I realized was coffee. Yay coffee!

It was in honor of the Indians' special guest that night, a young man called Machine Gun Kelly, a performer of some sort who is from Cleveland and goes by the initials MGK.

And if the design on the coffee pouch is any indication, he is also known as "The Blonde Don" but do not ask me why.

If I have ever heard of MGK it was only in passing; I know nothing about him. And if you know the pirate at all, you know this is not my kind of scene anyway.

The line was long but extra-quick

But MGK was actually there that night and I heard that he threw out the first pitch but that was when I was in line for my pretzel and a refill of my nine-dollar souvenir cup of Diet Pepsi, so I missed it.

I think he led the crowd in singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game during the seventh inning stretch too.

TG does not drink coffee so the two pouches are all mine and when I open them I'll let you know how MGK Joe rates.

Our seats were in full sun but we were early, so I got a hot dog and we both got soft drinks, and we sat in some shaded seats and I ate the excellent hot dog and was still hungry. As I said, even before the game started I went back for a pretzel and then still later, seventh inning or so, some popcorn.

I cannot resist concessions.

The big sign encourages fans to stand for the land

The Cubs not only lost in the second game of their series as guests of the Cleveland Indians, but they had lost the first game too, and would lose the third game the next night.

It's the only time this season that they have been swept. Meaning, they lost all games in a series.

Oh well. Move forward. There's still a little bit of time to make the playoffs. It may take a miracle, but there is still time. Barely.

Which is what we did when the game was over. Move forward, that is. Apparently riding the bus back to our hotel was not an option, so we called an Uber. 

We had to wait fifteen minutes but eventually our driver appeared and it wasn't long before we were again comfortably ensconced in our room.

It's coffee. That's all you need to know.

The next morning we had a ten-hour drive ahead of us and ideally we would have been on the road by nine o'clock at the latest.

But for no reason that I could ascertain, I woke up at three o'clock in the morning and was wide awake until seven. Yes I got up. Then I went back to bed. No it was not good.

So, we got on the road at eleven o'clock and bit the bullet. It was about nine that night when we got home.

It was altogether an interesting and enjoyable three-day excursion, with a lot of things packed into a short time.

Until next time, shine on, Cleveland

We took another trip this past weekend, from Friday to Sunday. I'll tell you about it in a few days.

And our next trip is coming up in a little over three weeks. This is a big one! Stay tuned.

What have you been up to? Tell me in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Wait just a second there

Mike, getting used to the way we do birthdays

Before August becomes nor more than a dim memory I suppose I should bring you up to speed on all we've been up to.

See what I did there? Up to no good.

I had a funny experience a week or so ago. If I'm honest I can say it is the first time this has ever happened to me and will most likely be the last.

It transpired at the grocery store where I'd gone to pick up maybe six or eight things. Not my usual order but it was for a particular and rather narrow purpose.

In fact it was part of the shopping I did for Henry's meals, which by the way, he has been raving about.

August is slipping from the calendar

Particularly well received was the meatloaf. Let's pull over and park here for a mo.

Throughout the decades I have made meatloaf by adding to the lean ground meat one egg, a handful of dry oatmeal, a generous squirt of ketchup, and whatever seasonings I saw fit.

One of the secrets of good meatloaf if you're asking me, is to bake it on a rack so that it does not rest in its own grease.

Towards the end of cooking, I take it out of the oven and apply a generous amount of ketchup to the top, spreading it all around so everything is covered, then bake until the ketchup forms a glaze.

And, et voilà, Bob's your uncle! That's a good meatloaf.

Persistent rain cloaked our area for days

But this time, while looking for the canned goods I would need for my chili, me pirate eye fell on this product: Hunt's Seasoned Tomato Sauce for Meatloaf. Basically a meatloaf starter.

If this product has existed for any length of time, it had previously escaped my notice.

I decided to give it a try.

To two pounds of lean ground beef I added about two-thirds of the starter sauce, plus the egg and oatmeal. At any rate I followed the recipe on the can.

I shaped the meat into two one-pound loaves -- one for TG and one for Henry. But even if I were not sharing, I would make this with two loaves. You can always eat one and put the other in the freezer for a rainy day.

Rhett was having a high old time

Towards the end of cooking, I added the remaining one-third can of starter sauce to the tops of my meatloaves.

Henry has raved about that meatloaf both to me and to my sister, to the point that she has texted to ask that I share what I did to that meatloaf to garner such a response.

(TG liked it but by no means raved; I'm not sure what to make of that, but I will make this meatloaf again.)

So now you know. If you want to wow someone with a humble meatloaf, go and do as I did.

Anyway, Henry also enjoyed everything else I made for him and I cannot tell you how glad I was to hear that.

Erica's compact canine unit, Sibi, matches the recliner

But I was at the store to get a few things I needed -- as I said, maybe ten things tops -- and in the checkout line, it not being a busy time of day, I was the only customer after the person ahead of me cleared out.

The cashier was an older lady, neat and tidy, having put on makeup and everything. She looked really nice.

Of particular interest to me was the wig she was wearing; it was a bobbed style dyed black at the roots and platinum blonde from the ears down. It actually looked cute on her.

She asked if I had one of those cards you scan to get the everyday low low prices and I said no, I thought I did but I don't.

Our Dagny loves a family get-together

We have just really started shopping at that store since we got fed up with the store where we used to shop.

So she encouraged me to visit a kiosk near the door as I left, to apply for said card, and I said that I would.

And then she said: That will be two thirty-eight. It all happened so fast.

I said, Excuse me?

She repeated: That will be two-thirty eight. And looked at me as though it was my turn.

Audrey got this balloon for Mike. No he is not a gamer.

It looked as though all of my purchases were still on the conveyor belt. I was the only person in line. I mean is that even a line? Does the pirate all by her onesie constitute a line?

Anyway I honestly thought she was asking me to pay for that card that they would later scan in order to give me access to the low low everyday prices.

So I said, I mean what is that for?

She replied; For your order. And she pointed to one item that she had scanned and put into a bag. I hadn't noticed that before.

I looked at my other stuff. But, I said, what about the rest of my groceries?

The sun did not shine! It was too wet to play!

She looked down and gasped. Oh I am so sorry! she said, and quickly began scanning my remaining items.

I'm old! she exclaimed by way of explanation for her error. I'm nearly seventy!

Well I resemble that a little more than I am comfortable with but I just said: Oh girl don't think a thing of it! I thought you were saying I had to pay for the discount card, haha!

She said: Of course you don't have to pay for that! I saw that stuff but I just thought it was someone else's order.

? ? ? ? ?

Erica's musical selections added to the cozy ambience

There was no one else but I let that slide because what does one say at such a time?

At any rate I soon paid for my purchaseS but not before she had apologized eighteen more times for being such an airhead, and I assured her it was absolutely not a problem and suggested that she forget it immediately.

But you know, I feel every day as though I am forgetting something. I think it's the wedding mode I'm in.

However we did not forget to celebrate our Mike's birthday on the sixth of this month.

Erica's incredible disappearing brownies

That was the week that we had rain, rain, rain, a brief lull, more rain, then more and more and more rain, until on his actual birthday it rained all day without stopping.

It was the storm they named Debby. We had none of the catastrophic effects as they did in the Low Country of South Carolina, from that weather event; we were fortunate.

But it was a rainy week and as I said, on the day, it did nothing but rain.

Erica had made her wonderful white chicken chili, and she'd also made brownies. Audrey made her beloved a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies, his favorite.

We had brought a small gift and it was cozy to be inside Erica's homey house full of lamplight, the skies all gray and weeping, and eat and visit and love on the babies.

I did the dishes. Yay me.

I always say I'll do the dishes if there are gloves to wear to protect my manicure, and Erica didn't have the right kind so Audrey dodged raindrops to go to her car and retrieve her heavy housecleaning gloves (they were in her car because she cleans houses for a living), so that I could wear them.

So the dishes got done and the dishwasher loaded and so forth, and that was my contribution.

Erica had lovely music floating from her bluetooth speaker that looks like a vintage retro radio, and the rain fell and Mike opened his gift and we all had a great time.

Rhett did not become emotional at the music. We are attempting to immunize him ahead of the wedding, where there will be a glut of lush, romantic tunefulness.

Mike appreciated our efforts on his behalf

You won't believe this. Mike had at first said, when I asked, that he didn't want to "do anything" for his birthday.

? ? ? ? ?

I told Audrey: Well chickie that hound won't hunt, and she prevailed on her intended to submit to being fêted on the day.

It's just how we roll. As you well know.

I told Mike when we arrived that evening, waterlogged but none the worse for wear: If you want to avoid observation of your birthdays, you are marrying into the wrong family.

Everyone misted with mirth because if that's not the truth, God didn't make the little green apples.

Audrey produced a batch of Mike's favorite cookies

No birthday left behind, is our motto. Or if it isn't, it should be.

And then a few days later, TG and I embarked on a trip to Cleveland, and later this week I will tell you about that adventure.

It involved relatives, cemeteries, ice cream, and baseball.

Oh and it involved me forgetting something: my ankle-length black Shadowline nightgown with roses embroidered at the neckline, without which garment I cannot live.

I left it hanging from a hook on the back of the bathroom door on the day we departed for home.

It's been awhile since anyone around here has had to water their grass

When I called the InterContinental Suites Hotel to make sure they had it -- they did -- I learned that if I wanted it back it would cost up to one hundred and seven dollars, depending on how quickly I wanted it.

They have a contract with FedEx.

Hmmmmm. After careful consideration I opted to send them a self-addressed, postage prepaid padded mailer into which they have promised to stuff my nightgown and zip it right back to me.

I think it's interesting that they get kickbacks from FedEx can't -- or won't -- simply put a forgotten item into a mailing envelope or box and send it back to the careless guest via the United States Postal Service, and put the charge for that on a credit card.

Ahoy and avast! That would be too easy. And that's not how we do things in the big city!

Elliot a/k/a Skippy is a sought-after lap buddy

The takeaway: Do a thorough sweep of your room before checking out of a hotel.

Ironically, I had thought to remove TG's hanging shirts from the closet, and drape them over his suitcase, lest he forget them.

I am not suggesting that he would have; I'm just saying that's what I did. Also I snagged his aviators from the bedside table and put them beside his wallet. Pirates are nothing if not helpful.

Later he told me that he had noticed my gown hanging on the back of the bathroom door, but ...

I snagged some snuggle time with my Skippy

But what? Just fill in the blank because you know what.

Dearest! Repeat after me: If you see something, say something!!!

Speaking of what, what have you left behind in hotel rooms? Did you let them keep it, or did you pay through the nose to get it back?

Tell me in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Eat up, Henry

Henry and me in an unretouched photo, last Saturday

Henry turned ninety-two on Sunday.

If you're new here and/or don't already know, Henry was married to my late mother for thirty-seven years.

Mom passed away in 2020.

Henry lives in Greenville, less than a two-hour drive from us, in the house he shared with my mother.

For someone of his age, it's remarkable that he keeps the big house clean and also does a great deal of the yard work.

(He has said that although he misses my mother, he enjoys living alone. That doesn't explain why he has been ready to propose to half a dozen ladies in the last four years, but we'll take him at his word.)

Since Mom passed away, my sister Kay and I have done what we can to help with his meals. Certain close friends have been thoughtful of Henry in that way too.

Three small banana breads rather than one big loaf

For example, every Sunday after church, Henry eats lunch with Kay and her husband and whomever else happens to be there.

Whenever I visit, I bring food to have that day, with Henry and my sister and her husband and whomever else joins us -- yes I always make plenty -- and to put leftovers away for the next day or two.

I never, ever go empty-handed.

(Audrey calls me Meals on Wheels, an inside joke originating from our both being fans of Twin Peaks. IYKYK.)

As well, both the eldest and the youngest of Henry's four daughters, who live in distant states, have visited several times and made meals ahead for him, leaving them in the freezer.

This is even though Henry tends to complain about cooking smells, even as his meals are being cooked.

(How one can apply heat to food in order to cook it, without there being cooking smells, is beyond all of us.)

Our darling Dagny

At the same time, he has expressed that he enjoys home-cooked meals so much more than whatever convenience and/or processed foods he subsists on in their absence.

Well duh.

So, since TG and I had given Henry two nice shirts for Father's Day in June, and he truly is a man who has everything, I decided that for his birthday, I would prepare several lunches and take them to him as a gift.

(Henry rises early and has his breakfast of oatmeal and coffee, then eats his main meal at noonday. In the evening he eats a bowl of cereal with half a banana.)

(My mother used to say that she would buy the smallest bananas she could find at the store, hoping that just once Henry would slice the whole thing into his cereal.)

(But no! she'd continue. Even if she found a banana that was three inches long, Henry would cut it in half and leave the uneaten portion on the counter to use in his cereal the next evening.)

We met this past Saturday at noon, at the Cracker Barrel in Simpsonville, about an hour away for us and a forty-minute drive for Henry.

Lovingly prepared sirloin steak in pan sauce

(Yes he still drives; the SCDMV recently renewed his license for eight more years. If you're in the Greenville area, look out because Henry has a lead foot and lives/loves to drive.)

Mike and Audrey and Dagny joined us, and we had a nice lunch and chatted for about an hour.

Henry was due back in Greenville by three o'clock for celebratory cake and coffee at my sister's, so after lunch we walked out to the parking lot and I gave him his vittles.

TG had set up the big cooler with ice in the back of our car and I had a nice large box from Costco, for Henry to transport his delicacies.

I'd made chili earlier in the week, and set aside a generous container of that for him. I'd fixed him a small meatloaf, three barbecued chicken tenders, and a sirloin steak with a delicious pan sauce.

Sides were corn muffin tops (wonderful with chili), mashed potatoes, squash casserole, and sweet corn.

For desserts and/or noshing I made him three mini-loaves of banana nut bread. Audrey had also brought him a treat: homemade oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies.

We got the food transferred from the cooler to the box and into the trunk of Henry's car, and off he went to put everything away at home.

Dagny and her great-grandpa Henry

Later that night he called me. He sounded near tears. Unhappy and overwhelmed.

The issue was that I had given him too much. It's enough for twenty meals! he exclaimed, his voice querulous.

(Which was untrue; I had not given him enough for twenty meals. Not even close.)

I told Henry as much, and gently reminded him that what I had done was cook for hours on a sweltering day when I would have just as soon not turned the oven on, so that he would have a number of freshly made home-cooked meals to put in his freezer.

And that, with all due respect, what might be in order is an attitude of gratitude.

But he wondered, in a worried tone, how long the meals could possibly last in the freezer.

I told him what I'm pretty sure he already knew: that in theory they would last indefinitely, but he would likely have consumed all of the food within a few weeks, even if he ate from them every other day.

I think the real issue was, he was balking at the task of dividing the meals into separate containers and placing them in the freezer.

Squash and zucchini casserole, from scratch

All of which would have taken perhaps fifteen minutes.

You can lead a horse to water ...

(The reason I didn't perform that service for him is that, one, I didn't want to give him all of my storage containers, and two, I didn't know how much he would want of any given thing in a single meal.)

Life is about choices.

At any rate, I guess if I were to repeat this performance, I would buy sectioned single-meal containers and dole out the helpings so that he has only to put one dish per meal in the freezer, and bring one dish out at a time to defrost and microwave.

The only thing is, to quote the cute pirate: I won't be making that mistake again. Next time he's getting a ten-dollar gift card to Chick-fil-A.

(This pirate may be short on disposable storage containers but she is long on memory.)

Soon enough, however, I imagine that Henry will have the ability to see what can be, unburdened by what has been.

Our Mike, with Audrey. Mike says he's always smiling on the inside.

He'll eat the dishes I prepared especially for him, and enjoy them, and that will be the end of it.

Oh dear. Have you been in a situation where you felt that no good deed went unpunished?

Tell me about it.

Meanwhile, today is Mke's birthday. I have to go and get ready for his party. I'll tell you about it later in the week.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

Some were moved to tears

Eiffel Tower up shot, courtesy of Audrey Weber

I did not watch the Olympics opening ceremonies last Friday. I haven't watched any of the games either.

From what I've heard, when it comes to the opening ceremonies, I didn't miss anything. Or, more to the point, what I missed I am fortunate to have missed.

However.

On Friday night I did look up Celine Dion's performance. I found the video on YouTube.

Pretzels stood in for logs

I'd read that she was set to be paid two million dollars to sing one song.

I didn't know what she was going to sing.

Let me point out that I am not what anyone would call a fan of Celine Dion. That doesn't mean I don't like her; I think her God-given talent is extraordinary.

Heavy equipment littered the landscape

But I don't follow her career per se; there are a few songs of hers that you can't get away from and that's about the extent of it.

When, two or three weeks ago, I saw that there was a new documentary entitled I Am: Celine Dion on Prime Video, I was not moved to watch it.

Soon enough my curiosity got the better of me though, and I watched it. In two separate sittings.

The birthday boy had a few moods to work through

It was okay and I must admit that my preliminary opinion was that she was doing a lot of whining about what she has lost rather than making a point to be grateful for all that she has had.

I mean, lots of people get older and become sick without ever having had a stellar illustrious career spanning decades, and the adulation of at least half the world, not to mention earning hundreds of millions of dollars.

Fame and fortune. The whole nine yards. Celine has enjoyed it for a very long time.

Each set of memory cards came in a small tin

And the impression I got was that she could no longer sing. That Stiff Person Syndrome has made it impossible for her to reach the notes anymore. As in, her heart will go on but her voice won't.

So I was intrigued as to how she was going to sing on a global stage at an international event, and not have it be a disaster.

To put it succinctly, I underestimated Celine Dion. Or else we've all been played.

At any rate I was not ready for her performance. In fact after watching it once, I was almost unable to process what I'd seen and heard.

Dagny atop the Eiffel Tower last May

It left me in tears. The whole glittering spectacle was almost too much.

I have watched it probably twenty times since then. I don't speak (or sing, unless you count Frère Jacques) in French, but if I did, I would have it memorized.

I cry every time. Every single time.

It helps that Celine sang Hymne à L'Amour, one of my top ten favorite songs ever.

Brownie boulders

But as I texted my girls, who along with me were getting pretty animated about Celine's Olympic moment:

Imagine standing in the Eiffel Tower at night, the city of Paris at your feet, the iconic rings glowing above your head, a light show showering fire all around you, wearing sparkling white Dior and dripping in diamonds, singing to the entire world.

And to have it turn out like that. So dazzling, so definitive.

 Rhett's birthday cake was a construction site

For me it was a profound experience. I guess I need to go back and watch the documentary again, because it's clear that I missed something. Celine Dion can still sing and she just gave the performance of a lifetime.

The reason I am telling you all of this is that our Rhett turned three last week. Allow me to connect the dots.

We had a party for him a week ago Saturday, here at our house.

Stephanie and Melanie and Allissa came from North Carolina to celebrate with us.

The memory card matches were familiar faces

I had again used Personalization Mall to make him a gift I hoped he'd like: A memory card game made up of pictures of Rhett and his family members and pets and so forth. I got him two sets, for a total of forty-eight cards or twenty-four matches. That should keep him busy.

Meanwhile Elliot a/k/a Skippy was having a massively good time wearing an outfit given to his big brother by our beloved Mari, back when Rhett was tiny. It went with the whole idea of Rhett's party.

That's because Erica had decided on a construction worker theme. She made a chocolate sheet cake and used a stencil to put a big three on top in chocolate sprinkles.

I want a house made out of these

She had tiny heavy machinery doing work all over the cake, and dump trucks unloading pretzel "logs" and sugar wafer "lumber" and brownie "boulders."

So while she was setting all of that up, and Chad had gone to have some balloons inflated, and the meal was prepared all but for the grilling, I asked Rhett to pose near the table so that I could get a shot of him with his presents.

I was using my phone for the pictures while simultaneously broadcasting a playlist on Spotify.

Rhett became decidedly maudlin

There is a growing list of songs that we'll be using for Mike and Audrey's wedding, and I was playing that.

The songs are lush, romantic, heart-rending instrumentals.

As I began taking shots of Rhett and his presents and decorations, I realized that he was tuning up to cry.

There were signs along the way

I asked him what was the matter and he just pouted more.

Then I saw actual tears, so I went over and put my arms around him. By then he was out-and-out weeping, tears falling onto my lap.

Erica joined us and rubbed his back, trying to soothe him. We asked him what was the matter. Did he need a nap? Did he want to go upstairs and lounge on the guest bed and watch Paw Patrol until time to eat?

Let's build it and then eat it

But he wouldn't, or couldn't, say.

And then it came to me: it was the music. The songs I was playing on my phone. They were making him sad.

It's the music! Turn it off! I told Erica, and she did. Rhett's mood improved immediately, and a few minutes later he was playing as though nothing had happened.

There were some balloons taller than Rhett

Rhett is known for weeping when there is poignant music. He sometimes cries in church when they play Amazing Grace.

Like me whenever we sing The Old Rugged Cross as a congregational song. Never can I get through it without crying.

When Rhett was about eighteen months old, one day we were all together when Erica said, Watch this. She was holding him in her lap and she began singing My Bonny lies over the ocean, and Rhett began to cry.

I included a picture of the goose I met in Pittsburgh

She told us that every time she sang that song to him, he was reduced to tears. So she stopped singing it to him.

But he is still so affected by emotional music that we are beginning to wonder how he is going to get through the wedding in November.

He is the ring bearer and he has to be on display while the lush, romantic music plays and while his Aunt Audrey walks down the aisle on TG's arm.

There were no more tears by the time he ate his cake

We'll have to give him some pep talks before the day. Maybe immunize his emotions by playing a few bars of the songs every so often, so he gets used to hearing them.

Oh what am I saying? There won't be a dry eye in the house. Not mine, not Rhett's, and not anyone else's.

We'll just have to do our best. Like Celine did in Paris last Friday night.

Elliot is good at being happy Skippy boy

While I've been writing this, I've played Celine's Olympics video a couple of times. And yes it still brings me to tears.

Maybe the day will come when I can watch it without crying. But I hope it's not anytime soon. I kind of like it.

Is there a song that never fails to bring you to tears? Tell me in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Tuesday

July is just another name for summer

I got lots of new bunting, including fans like this one

I bet y'all thought that the Pirate had been made to walk the plank.

You should be so fortunate.

No, I've just been preoccupied to the point of insomnia, with wedding planning.

I splurged on a new patriotic table runner this summer

By the way, Audrey has selected her bridal gown. She's looking forward to her first fitting on August first.

The dress is quite something and she will make a stunning bride.

I'm in charge of designing a number of things, to include all decorations.

As usual, there is a gnome perched on the ledge

Audrey and I are working on the invitations and other ephemera that will be needed for the wedding and reception on November eighth.

It's all loads of fun but time consuming and, for me at least, distracting in the extreme.

But I promised to tell you about our third of three parties, which took place a few weeks ago now.

All of our names are featured several times each on the runner

Its purpose was to celebrate our Chad's birthday.

Since Cherica live over near our church, and Chad's birthday was on a Wednesday, we decided to have his party at their house after our midweek service.

But as it turned out, Baby Elliot a/k/a Skippy was under the weather that day, so I offered to stay with him while the others went to church.

Skippy and I are in love so we enjoy hanging out together

That enabled me to get the meal ready to serve the moment they walked in the door.

I had done much of the prep work at home. Chad loves ham, so I made a brown-sugar-glazed spiral ham for our meat course.

Again putting on my caterer hat, I baked the ham at home while making all but a few of the sides: deviled eggs, Slow Cooker Creamed Corn, and mashed potatoes.

This shot of us is from last April

I took pictures of absolutely none of this so you'll have to use your imagination.

But I can promise you that it was a scrumptious ham dinner.

While hanging out with Skippy for the hour or so that everyone was gone to church, I made this Squash Casserole which was a first time for me trying this recipe. It was divine. You must make it.

A typical summer sky on a typical summer Sunday after church

I also cut up some fresh cucumbers and tomatoes to have alongside everything else.

When all the fam got to the house, we sat down and ate. For dessert, Erica had bought a jam-covered cheesecake from Costco.

Then Chad opened his gifts, and eventually we all went home. It was a lovely evening.

Shelby (L) and Megan (R) spent the night with me on their way back to Tennessee

In the waning days of June I decorated for the quintessential patriotic holiday. I hung bunting outside on the railing and put the red-white-and-blue flower arrangement into the door bucket.

Inside, I unveiled a new table decoration: this personalized table runner by Personalization Mall.

I bought a special gift from the same site, but I'll show you that later as it involves Rhett's third birthday, which we are celebrating this coming Saturday, a few days ahead of his actual big day.

I really piled on the patriotic decorations this year

Speaking of Rhett, Erica and I went shopping at Hobby Lobby with him and his little bother Skippy, and Rhett became entranced by a ceramic salt-and-pepper shaker set in the shape of a red truck and flag-themed camping trailer.

It was sixty or seventy percent off so I got it and as it was snuggled into a clear plastic box, Rhett got to carry it around the store while we shopped.

And now it's so cute on the patriotic table.

Dagny put the beret on Skippy's head while he nestled with his mother at church

We had a low-key Fourth of July with no particular plans. Audrey and Mike and Dagny came over later in the day and we all swam around in the pool.

We didn't do a cookout but rather they brought cold cut sandwich fixings for everyone. It was relaxing not to have to cook.

During the week of July Fourth, I heard from my niece Shelby (daughter of my half-brother Mike), saying that she was spending the summer in middle Tennessee. My brother and his family live in California.

Yes I can eat that whole bowlful of watermelon and then some

Specifically, Shelby was staying with the family of a childhood friend, and the whole group would be traveling to Hilton Head, South Carolina, for the holiday week.

So it was that on the Saturday after the Fourth, Shelby and her friend Megan stopped for the night on their way from Hilton Head back to the Chattanooga area.

Detail of the current contents of my Southern Living door bucket

It's only the second time I have been with Shelby in person, the first being in April of 2022, but we keep in touch and she is a doll so we had a truly wonderful time catching up.

The deck and pool area is still in disarray and if I'm being honest I must say that not much progress is being made. 

It's extremely hot outside and TG has been busy with other projects. If a plank does get walked, it may be him when I get fed up with the whole thing and send him down to Davy Jones' Locker (chlorinated).

I enjoy having many points of light in my tablescapes

We have heat advisories almost every day, and have had several triple-digit days. Actual temperature, not factoring in heat index or humidity.

As arduous as any sort of activity may be -- indoors or out -- in this heat, the humidity adds another layer of difficulty.

But the skies are glorious with the bright blue and the fluffy masses of cumulus clouds that scream summer.

The sky last night as we left Waffle House. The cicadas were shrieking in the trees.

I have eaten more ice-cold watermelon than you can imagine. I am wild about and consumed with and quite possibly addicted to ice-cold watermelon. I eat it in large quantities. It is refreshing.

So here we are past the mid-point of July, and soon it will be August, and you know what comes after that.

Rhett quickly became attached to this truck-trailer S&P set

With purposeful intent, let's not rush things but rather squeeze every ounce of enjoyment out of what we now have.

I'll continue with wedding preparations and in less than four months I will have all of those beautiful pictures to show you. You're going to want to see this.

Meanwhile what are you up to? Tell me in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Monday

Still alive at forty-five

This shot was not posed ... we had been married for ten minutes

It's hard for me to believe that nearly two weeks have elapsed since our forty-fifth wedding anniversary.

But then, I'm having difficulty processing that it has been forty-five years since TG and I got married.

Since I know you're dying to see what I wore, I wrote about my wedding dress -- in a post about the awful practice known as Trash the Dress -- here, some years ago.

Forty-five years later, to the day and almost to the hour

We met at church. In Hammond, Indiana, of all places. The greater Chicagoland area, as it is also known.

I was there because that's where I went to Bible College from 1974 until 1978.

FYI although I identify as a southerner (since my mother was born in Mississippi as were her own parents, and my father was born in Louisiana as were his own parents), I was born in the Hoosier State.

Here is the anniversary card I gave to TG

(My late father, a USAF pilot, was stationed at Grissom Air Force Base in Kokomo when I made my appearance.)

(He and Mama, as newlyweds, had been stationed at Eielson Air Force Base near Fairbanks, Alaska, when my sister Kay came along.)

At any rate, TG and I met in Indiana in February of 1976, were married in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia in June of 1979, and lived in Northwest Indiana -- "The Region" -- until 1991, when we moved to Knoxville.

TG brought me these mega balloons

But I digress.

Forty-five summers have come and gone, and here we are.

I did not ask for special diamond jewelry this time, as I did upon our thirtieth and fortieth anniversaries.

On the thirtieth, we reworked my wedding rings to include a diamond wrap, and on the fortieth, we added a nine-stone diamond anniversary band.

I made the spicy cranberry meatballs

We also toured New York and New England for eight days in the fall of 2019, partially as a gift from our children, in honor of our fortieth. Best trip ever. I wrote about it here and here and here.

I'll be thinking for five years about what I want for our fiftieth -- yes; I want something -- but it probably won't be a change or addition to my wedding rings. I'm taking suggestions if you have any.

This year I said I wanted to take trips, so that's what we are doing. 

Elliot a/k/a Skippy, the youngest of our eight grandchildren

In August we are going to Ohio to see the Cubs play the Cleveland Indians -- "Stand for the Land" -- and no I will not refer to them as the Guardians; deal with it -- and in September we are going to Chicago for two consecutive night games at Wrigley Field.

My sister's youngest, her daughter Joanna, lives in Cleveland. Her husband, Jacob, is a professor at the Cleveland Institute of Music. No we are not staying with them but we hope to see them and their two little boys, Freddy and Andrew.

My extra-tasty refrigerator pickles

We plan to visit Lake View Cemetery where Joanna and Jacob's baby son Noah is buried. I told you about that in this post.

Also buried there is Ray Chapman, the only player in the history of Major League Baseball to be hit by a pitch and die from his injury.

If you like baseball history, you may enjoy reading this detailed account of the sad event which took place one hundred and four years ago.

Our forty-five roses on the day before our anniversary

And as if that is not tragic enough, the account of what subsequently became of Ray Chapman's widow, Katie, will make you cry, and count your blessings. 

Her story resonates with me because my great grandmother, Lela McBride Cassidy, ended her life in a similar manner to Katie Chapman at the age of twenty-three, thirty-six years and one day before I was born.

She was the mother of my grandmother, Mary Elizabeth Cassidy Sandifer, and her sister, my mother's beloved Aunt Genevieve, who we called Aunt Jenny.

Several dads in our family got the Dad to the Bone card this year, haha

After their mother's death, the two baby girls were reared by their maternal grandparents, John William McBride and Lizzie Woods McBride.

As family lore goes, there was bad blood between their father (my great-grandfather) Charles Cassidy, and his in-laws. He was not even allowed to know his little daughters, much less bring them up.

It was a sorrow to my precious Mamaw for her entire life. And I understand that too.

Erica's pantry, where her washer and dryer used to be

But we are looking forward to paying our respects at Ray Chapman's grave. Both Katie, his widow, and their daughter Rae Marie are buried at Calvary Cemetery in Cleveland, and we hope to visit them too.

Our beloved Chicago Flubs are having such a dismal season that I may wear black instead of Cubbie blue to all three games as well as to the cemeteries.

Erica made her excellent lemon-blueberry trifle

(It's the inconsistent pitching! No, it's the lackluster hitting! No, it's the useless bullpen! No, it's the bumbling outfielders! No, it's the clueless manager! No, it's the indifferent front office! No, it's the arrogant owners!)

We have blamed everyone but the ever-hopeful fans for this disaster but I'm pretty sure we have not figured out the problem, so we'll keep on a-wishin' and a-hopin' for a turnaround before it's too late.

My potato salad with no onions

We watch every inning in real time with our MLBTV subscription, except for when the Cubs play the Atanta Braves, which games are blacked out. We watch those the next day when they're archived.

I've digressed again. Pirate apols.

For our anniversary this year, which was on a Sunday, Father's Day, I already reported that the children bought us four dozen roses so that we could display forty-five of them in front of the church.

One side of Chericot's new room

The roses were beautiful and we carted them around all weekend, but now they've mostly been thrown away with the exception of about a dozen, which I have hung upside down in a dark, cool room to dry.

Before I did that, I divided the flowers into several bouquets and put them in various rooms in the house, to enjoy them for the longest possible time.

I told you before that on the day before our anniversary, TG transported the huge and heavy vase of flowers over to the church so that we wouldn't have to think about doing that on Sunday morning.

My refrigerator pickle recipe

We had decided, with our two girls who live here, to have a get-together for both the anniversary and Father's Day, at Chericot's house after church on Sunday night.

To that end, before the Cubs' afternoon game on Saturday, June fifteenth, I made a batch of the Spicy Cranberry Meatballs for which I am semi-famous.

We carted these roses all over town

This is the recipe I have used for years, but I'll add the note that I half-again the mixture as far as the meatballs go (as in, I use three pounds of lean ground beef instead of two), and then I double the sauce.

Everyone loves these and they are fun to make, so that's what I did for our party.

In addition, I made refrigerator pickles using the brine recipe pictured in this post. I just peeled and sliced several cucumbers and sliced a few Vidalia onions and doubled this simple brine formula.

Keep going forward and you'll end up in the kitchen

They were excellent. Very sour, which I love. Audrey does not like them so I have mine and hers too.

I also made coleslaw, which comes from a bag and is dressed with a combination of Duke's mayonnaise, white vinegar, and sugar.

You're probably tired of hearing about my macaroni and cheese so I'll just briefly say that I added more milk and cheese to that which was left over from Dagny's birthday party two nights before, and brought it to bubbling in the oven.

I sent it to one of my brothers and to Chad, who got another one, haha

I also made potato salad, which I had not done in a good long while. It was delicious.

I never peel potatoes; I scrub them and leave the skin on, no matter what the recipe. 

For my potato salad I just chunk the potatoes until fork-tender, let them cool, and add however many hardboiled eggs I decided on.

TG received this from one of the children

To that I add Duke's mayonnaise, sweet pickle relish, celery, a splash of mustard, kosher salt, and coarse-ground pepper. No onion.

Erica had made her fabulous lemon-blueberry trifle for dessert.

I've told you before that Chad spent several months converting their carport into a room, and it's ninety-nine percent finished. Just a few more details have to be seen to, but they are enjoying it.

Dagny made this for TG

There are three concrete steps that lead from their kitchen to the room, and of course two walls are exposed brick.

What used to be their utility closet is now the laundry room, and what used to be a laundry area in her kitchen is now their pantry.

Erica decorates everything beautifully and the new room is so inviting.

Here you can see what is now the laundry room

On the day before our anniversary, TG had gone out for errands and came home with two huge ballons for me: a big four and a big five. They were silver.

I love balloons and he knows that so I appreciated the effort that went into that sweet surprise.

We brought the balloons from home and our roses from the church to Chericot's house on Sunday night so that everyone could enjoy them during the party.

This lovely card was from one of our daughters

(It has been hot as four dozen firecrackers here -- this week we hit triple digits more than once -- and nothing left in the car will survive.)

And yes, TG and Chad and an old friend with mad carpentry skills are still working on our deck whenever they get a spare minute. It is sixty percent completed and we can go out of one of the kitchen doors to get to the pool, but it will be a while before everything is back to normal poolside.

Later I broke the flowers down into smaller bouquets

It hasn't kept us from using the pool. TG has it sparkling and although neither he nor I have been in it yet this year, the kids have, and my niece Rebecca and her husband Rex have brought their kids a few times.

Speaking of my niece Rebecca and her husband Rex, they have had an offer accepted on the house they chose. The closing will take place at the end of July. Until then they are living in an Airbnb.

And so the summer commences and moves apace, and next week we will celebrate Independence Day, the Fourth of July.

Coleslaw with tangy, creamy homemade dressing

We have no firm plans but something tells me that some configuration of family members and perhaps even friends will show up to hang out with us on the quintessential summer holiday.

I'm getting all of my patriotic decorations ready and I'll show you those in my next post, in which I will also tell you about the party we had this past Wednesday night, during which I forgot to take even a single picture.

Dagny reading to Elliot a/k/a Skippy

It was just too hot and me pirate brain may have been a touch addled by the broiling temperatures.

But there will be some good recipes so I hope you will enjoy the persistent pirate palaver -- and no palpitations please -- even with a paucity of precious pictures of our pickle-y, potato-ey, particularly palatable repast.

That was for you, Ginny. Ginny admires my acuity in the area of alliteration.

One last parting shot of those anniversary roses

(Well, I did take a few of me and Skippy -- Elliot -- and I'll share those.)

If you're paying attention, the presidential election is heating up too. This should be interesting. Keep your powder dry.

How are you spending these sweltering summer days? Have you any plans for the Fourth? Let me know in the comments.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Friday :: Happy Last-Weekend-of-June

A decade of Dagny

Audrey went with a rose-gold color scheme for decorations

Today I'm going to tell you about Dagny's tenth birthday party, which took place on her actual tenth birthday: Friday, the fourteenth of June.

Flag day. Also she shares a birthday with President Trump.

Ten years of our Dagny. If you are new or new-ish to I'm Having A Thought Here and don't know the story of Dagny and would like to read it, click here.

And a post in a similar vein, written a few weeks later, may interest you as well.

I asked Dagny to pose when she ran out to greet us

But ten years old? Double digits, already? Our beloved Daggybug (my nickname for her), the Dagginator (TG's nickname for her)?

It was hard to get our heads around but we took to party planning like it was our paid profession.

We held Dagny's birthday celebration at Mike's house, which in less than five months, when her mother marries Mike, will be Dagny's house too.

I prepared all of the food ahead of time. The main part of the menu had been requested by the birthday girl.

Ten years since we first beheld our darling Dagny

She wanted kebabs. 

Audrey and I discussed our options and I made my shopping list and went to the store.

Costco has a pretty great package of thick sirloin steaks. There are five to a package and the price is good; I can't say for sure but I think it comes out to about six dollars a pound. Maybe a little more.

At any rate it was thirty-five dollars for five steaks.

Mike presented Dagny with this adorable bouquet

That's a good price for this cut and quality of meat. We're all meat lovers but we don't have the budget for Wagyu beef at a ten-year-old's birthday party.

Also, a few of us enjoy their meat cooked medium well but most of us -- the pirate most definitely included -- prefer it well done. Don't judge.

So I got the steaks, and at Walmart I picked up a large pack of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.

On Friday morning, the day of the party, I cut up the meats into chunks and put them into marinades.

There's a cake for every occasion

For the chicken I used straight soy sauce, nothing added. This is excellent and I do it all the time. Occasionally I throw in some fresh minced garlic but this time I had only four cloves on hand and I wanted it for the beef.

In musing whether one could marinate beef in balsamic vinegar by itself (because I had a lot of it), I found the marinade recipe included as a photo in this post.

I didn't alter the recipe except I may have doubled it. Into the marinade the beef chunks went. This marinade is outstanding and I urge you to try it the next time you have the need.

Truly delicious.

Dagny wasn't the only one who got flowers

Chicken chunks were joined with their soy sauce soak, and I also soaked my kebab sticks in water.

(I think you're supposed to do that so they don't catch fire on the grill. Mike had some metal sticks with fancy handles that I used for the meat kebabs later, but I knew he had only six, and that wasn't enough.)

We were ten in number -- and I just realized that our number matched Dagny's age.

In addition to me and TG there were Maudag (Mike, Audrey, Dagny) and Chericot (Chad, Erica, Rhett, and Elliot). 

You cannot have too many balloons

Mike's mother -- we call her Miss Judi -- joined us as well. She's eighty-five and loves life. She even went to Paris with the group in early May.

My plan was to assemble the meat kebabs at the party, just before they were grilled.

But we wanted vegetable kebabs too, so next, I got busy making those.

(We didn't want to grill our veggies on the same stick as the meat, because the meat takes longer to cook and the vegetables can fall apart.)

I put the veggie kebabs together at home

I used red, yellow, and orange peppers, Vidalia onions, cherry tomatoes, and pineapple chunks out of a can.*

After those were prepared and safely in the garage fridge waiting for transport, I turned my attention to making deviled eggs.

My granddaughter is extremely partial to Mamaw's deviled eggs.

Those finished and having placed my deviled-egg carrier (yes of course I have one; it holds twenty-four of the delicacies on two levels) beside the veggie-kebabs in the garage fridge, waiting for the trip to Mike's, I got busy with the rest of the repast.

Reheated Apple Pie Baked Beans

There were plenty of Apple Pie Baked Beans left over from the party with my niece's family the night before, so I put those into an oven-safe dish and set them aside.

(I had actually planned on this ahead of time, knowing we had parties two nights in a row; that recipe makes lots of baked beans.)

Also in the lineup was another big baking dish of macaroni and cheese, just as I'd made the night before. Once at Mike's I would pop it into the oven to heat through and get simmery around the edges.

Last, I prepared sweet corn for the grill. What I do is, I put the corn in the middle of a piece of tin foil and add butter and salt, then wrap it up.

TG bought this corn but Mike and Audrey had more

After grilling, all you have to do is open your corn and it's ready to gnaw on.

I don't eat corn on the cob but most in our group do, and did, and pronounced it succulent.

When it was time to head out from our house, TG helped me pack all of the cold food items into the big cooler and get everything smothered with ice.

The remainder of dishes and supplies were loaded into sturdy boxes that we had set aside just for that purpose.

Doing the birthday float

Dagny came running outside when we arrived, and I made her pose on the sidewalk as she was wearing a glittering sash and tiara with her pink dress.

It was a hot day and we continue to have broiling, sweltering days. Mike lives on a golf course so there's a breeze and he has a roomy deck but I only went outside once, for about a minute.

The mosquitoes did not have time to find me before I hustled back inside. There is also a small screened porch but to be honest I didn't have time to sit around passing the time of day. 

I put the beef-and-chicken kebabs together and we lined them up on cookie sheets and delivered them to Chad out by the grill, along with the veggie kebabs to be put on last, with the sweet corn.

Dagny's OBP: Official Birthday Photo

Before long the kebabs were smelling scrumptious.

Audrey had of course ordered a special cake for Dagny, and the confection made mention of her new double digit status.

Lots of pink icing was involved.

She also gone for the huge one and zero balloons in rose gold, floating a big ten over the proceedings.

When I saw these I knew we had kebab success

For Dagny's birthday parties Audrey has in the past bought Nerds Gummy Clusters and put them out for snacking, and this year was no exception.

That candy is addictive. You think you won't be affected by it and next thing you know, you've eaten ten pieces and you're reaching for the eleventh.

And it's so cute in the colorful candy dishes that Audrey got at the dollar store, for the year that Dagny's birthday party had a space/universe theme.

Lots of purples and blues dominated that decorating scheme.

Chericot chilling ... plus Dagny

Mike had bought a sweetly exquisite bouquet of flowers in a lovely vase for Dagny, along with a card. The flowers were on the counter near the candy.

Speaking of flowers, a much larger quantity of blooms had been delivered to Mike's house that day.

Let's not get ahead of ourselves but TG's and my forty-fifth wedding anniversary was two days hence.

Particulars of that party will provide the pith of the pirate's next post.

Pirate deviled eggs :: the secret ingredient is cayenne pepper

I had planned to order four dozen red roses and put them -- minus three stems -- on a pedestal in front of the pulpit in our church auditorium.

Members of our congregation often do that to mark special occasions or to honor loved ones.

But our four children said that they wanted to buy the flowers for us, so Erica did the ordering and had the roses delivered to Mike's since that's where we would all be on Friday when they were set to show up.

We use Global Rose -- we did this same thing five years ago on our fortieth anniversary -- and they do a good job delivering gorgeous roses right to your door. In any quantity.

I kept going to check on my anniversary roses

The roses are packaged safely and they're fresh and they open nicely. And at twenty dollars a dozen, it's probably the best price you'll find on the internet.

So the big box of roses, unopened, had been placed on Mike's dining table, and Erica had bought three bunches of baby's breath at Publix, and I resisted the urge to open the box but instead put everything in a cool place to wait.

Later we took them home and I arranged them in the huge vase I bought five years ago for our fortieth.

I had to put glass beads in the bottom to give the roses some lift, and with the water, it was heavy.

Take my advice and try this marinade

TG ended up putting the hefty arrangement into a box with towels around it in the passenger floorboard of the car, and taking the flowers over to the church on Saturday evening.

That way we didn't have to worry about getting them there on Sunday morning, which was also Father's Day, and TG planned to attend our annual men's breakfast.

Via text I submitted a picture of us at our wedding to the young family man at church who takes care of media-type things, and it was displayed throughout the day on Sunday on our large double screens, along with all of the other announcements.

This was happiness in grillville

It was strange to look up and see my 22-year-old self as a bride, beaming at TG. How did forty-five years get away from me? It leaves me lost in wonder.

Several folks commented both to me and to Audrey that they saw her in my young-girl face. And now she is set to be a bride.

(In my next post, as promised, I will show you that picture. And our roses.)

Elliot a/k/a Skippy will turn nine months old this week

Back to our birthday meal, which was consumed and enjoyed with some of our group sitting inside and some sitting outside. Dagny sat next to me. Inside.

Everything was delicious and after we were all full, many of us pitched in to do cleanup. Then Mike served coffee from his Nespresso Vertuo and we relaxed for a while.

Erica was in another part of the house, feeding Elliot, when Dagny began bringing her birthday gift bags over to the couch, in keen anticipation of opening them.

I made her wait until Erica could join us, and she was a good sport about that.

We sang to her

And the gifts were opened and Dagny seemed to like and greatly appreciate everything she received.

Time for cake! We lit Dagny's candles and sang to her, and Audrey began serving the sweet slices.

A few bites of that was enough, and everyone began thinking about heading for home. Rhett and Elliot were tired. Cherica were tired and I was tired but it was a good kind of weariness.

I'm not sure about TG, or Maudrey for that matter. They didn't seem tired and for sure Dagny would have continued her birthday bash into the wee hours had she been allowed.

Here's hoping you see something like this on your plate this summer

It's always sad to see the party come to a close, but I for one was seeking a reunion with my pillow.

As it happened, when we got home and I'd done all of the unpacking and organizing with dishes and so forth, I fooled with those roses for a solid hour before getting them the way I wanted them.

After a sleep I'd have my Saturday to prepare for the next party, which was set for Sunday.

Me and my beloved Daggybug

I will tell you about that later in the week. And in case you were wondering, yes! We have a party planned for this week too.

You'll be brought up to speed in due time, with plenty of pictures.

Meanwhile I have a menu and a shopping list to prepare.

And that is all for now. 

* Extra credit if you get the Johnny Depp movie reference in that sentence.

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Happy Last Week of June :: Happy Summer