great expectations...

 My spouse and I had dinner this evening with my grandson and his wife.  It was a very joyous get together.  They are expecting their first child in two weeks.  I'm guessing it might be sooner.  She looks ready to pop.

Although it's been many years for me, I can remember the excitement of waiting for that first baby to be born. Every birth is exciting but that first baby catapults its parents into a whole new life style.  Sleeping through the night will probably become a thing of the past, at least for the first several months.  Your whole life revolves around this new being come to live with you.  

Some things never change but I am intrigued by the things that have changed since I became a mother.

1. They know the sex of the baby, it's a boy. They decided on his name months ago.

2. They know how much it will weigh at birth, six pounds.

3. They know it is healthy and normal with the correct number of fingers and toes.

4. They know it's in the head down position.

5.  My grandson knows that there will be a chair for him in the delivery room in case he feels faint.  It could happen. 

And the one thing that hasn't changed - they know that the baby's grandparents and great grandparents are ready, willing and able to pitch in and help as needed, especially with rocking the baby. 

As it happens, I'm a champion baby rocker.  If it was an Olympic sport I'd have a gold medal for sure.  Can't wait to get back in the game.

new guidelines

 My west coast brother informed me, earlier this afternoon, that today is "National Grain Free Day."  Unfortunately, or maybe luckily, depending on how I look at it, I didn't read his text until after my spouse and I returned from a trip to our favorite Amish bakery where we had stocked up on our favorite breads and cookies. (I'll admit it, the molasses cookies are my downfall, not my spouses, but I do limit myself to one a day.)

Thinking about a grain free day, even though I'm not observing it, led me to wonder where grain falls on the newly designed food pyramid. here's what I found out. "The 2025-2030 Dietary Guidelines for Americans released in January 2026 feature a new 'inverted' food pyramid, prioritizing high-quality proteins, healthy fats and produce at the top, while placing whole grains at the (pointy little) base."

Luckily my spouse and I do have access to high quality proteins thanks to generous family gifts from the Omaha Steak Company. Also, if you were to look in our refrigerator right now you would find an ample supply of apples, oranges and grapes so that covers produce.  Also celery, but nobody counts celery.  I'm pretty sure that the real butter that I slather on my Cinnamon Swirl toast counts as a healthy fat, at least today.  Butter like coffee is one of those foods that gets flipped from the 'good for you' list to the 'bad for you' list with some regularity.

I don't really have any argument with the new food pyramid except for where it places grain.  Let's face it people need bread.  What are you going to spread your peanut butter and jelly on? What will hold your ham salad sandwich?  What will accompany your bacon and eggs if not some form of bread?  I'm ok with grain at the bottom but I think the pyramid needs to be replaced with a semi-circle or U shape.  

"The Good Food U for You" sounds catchy to me.  Maybe I should write a letter to someone.

the Olympics

 I have been watching the winter Olympics every night since they started over a week ago.  Like everyone else watching, I marvel at the amazing performances whether it's on skates, snow boards, skis, luges or skeletons.  I groan when someone falls and cheer when they pull off an excellent performance, even if the judges don't think it's perfect. 

As a mother myself, I do find myself wondering what their parents feel as their children compete.  All of my children marched in high school bands and I have felt a little bit of what they might be experiencing.  I've watched our bands compete and come in third or fourth when I thought their performance was perfect.  

But there is one big difference.  I could relax while watching my offspring compete, knowing that they will not be flying down a mountainside, up an incline, doing triple and quadruple flips then landing gracefully on their feet (usually).  Or, better yet, twirling up into the air on skates, doing four or five spins. then landing perfectly.  It's all so exciting to watch and I assume that the athletes' parents have been supporting them through years and years of practice and competitions.  

So here's to our wonderful Olympic contenders and here's to all those who have supported their dreams all along the way. 

feeling lazy....

 First, here's a picture of our latest accomplishment puzzle wise.  It has been a very rainy day with nowhere to go so we puzzled more than we usually do.

I'm sorry that it's side ways but that's how we looked at it much of the time we were working on it.  It's a 500 piece puzzle, so fun to work on. 

Before you judge me too harshly for spending this warm rainy day in frivolous pursuits I did manage to put together an agenda for an upcoming meeting this morning before the laziness totally overtook me.  

Further in my defense, I am convinced (although no doctor has diagnosed me) that I am suffering from EOSF.  Have you ever noticed how most of the TV commercials touting remedies for various ailments refer to the diseases by their acronyms? I seldom know what illness they are "curing" but, by the time they finish telling about all the possible side effects of the medication they are touting, I'm pretty sure I would rather have the disease. 

This is certainly the case with EOSF, the symptoms of which include sleepiness, laziness, and general lack of ambition.  

If you haven't figured it out by now, EOSF is Early Onset Spring Fever.  I know it's only February, I know it will get cold again, but for now I will enjoy my malady.

it's puzzling...

 Since my wonder spouse and I are retired we do have an ample amount of discretionary time.  Some of that time we spend doing volunteer work and other worthwhile things.

However, when all of the important and semi-important things are done, we sometimes indulge in our greatest weakness (no, not drinking).  We enjoy putting together jigsaw puzzles.  We have a large table and excellent lighting in our basement rec room, and can take many days if necessary to finish a puzzle.

When you think about it logically, putting together a jigsaw puzzle is a huge waste of time.  First we sort through all the pieces to find the edge pieces, then assemble them into the frame of the picture, then piece by piece fit all of the other pieces together.  

Finally, finally it's finished.  We can look at it with a great sense of accomplishment.  We have completed 500, 750, 1000 and 2000 piece puzzles over the years.  Then we break it all apart, put the puzzle back in its box, being very careful not to lose any pieces, and set it aside to donate somewhere, sometime. 

Recently we discovered a way to keep our hard work.  If a puzzle was particularly challenging or we just like the picture, we can save it by putting specially made backing material on the puzzle, then framing it in a poster frame and hanging it on the wall for all to see and admire.  But only if they come down to our basement rec room.  We have not yet resorted to hanging preserved puzzles in our living room.  Give us credit for a little couth.

a childhood scam...

 Writing about my ironing chore yesterday reminded me of another, much less pleasant chore that my oldest brother (two years younger than me) and I were expected to do during the summer months.

I should explain here that my mom was a loving, kind, wonderful mother, but she was also a teacher, and used to working with a schedule, so during our summer breaks she liked to keep us on something of a schedule.  The schedule did include delightful things like a 10am break to eat sugar glazed donuts on Wednesdays after the bakery truck came by, TV time while we all watched Captain Kangaroo with my baby brother, and, my favorite, a half hour, or longer, break after lunch to relax in our bedrooms and read or nap.  This was supposedly so my baby brother could nap.  I didn't appreciate, until I was a mom myself, that it was also my mother's chance to rest.  

The schedule also included her expectation that we would get up in "the cool of the morning" to weed the strawberry patch.  Usually this chore was only for 30 minutes after which we went in and had breakfast.  One particular morning my brother kept running inside and looking at the clock.  Finally he announced that it was 8:00am and time for breakfast.

Everything was fine until my father came home from work that evening  and didn't understand why his TV news show didn't come on until fifteen minutes past the hour.  Very mysterious.  He finally checked the clock on the wall in the kitchen against his pocket watch and realized that the kitchen clock was fifteen minutes fast.  

I honestly don't remember what my brother's punishment was but I think it involved more weeding for him and less for me and mom.  My parents were not spankers but they did believe in letting the punishment fit the crime.  They also, happily, were blessed with good senses of humor.

a childhood chore..

 As was true of many children of my generation, there were chores I was expected to do.  While the oldest of my two brothers mowed grass and did other outside chores, I washed and dried dishes and set the table for meals. My mother, meanwhile, was being kept pretty busy with my baby brother. 

The other chore I did regularly was to iron.  These days, thanks to synthetic fabrics, I seldom iron at all but I was reminded of the ironing of my childhood when my wonder spouse informed me today that he was going to iron the top edge of our top bed sheet.  The sheets had just come out of the dryer and I thought they were just fine but he wanted to do it, so who am I to argue?  I like things smooth.

The reason this situation reminded me of my youth was because ironing was one of my chores and the first things I learned to iron were pillow cases.  I don't think my mother ever ironed sheets, unless we had out of town company coming, but she did like smooth pillow cases.

I don't mean to brag but I must have been quite precocious, because I quickly 'graduated' to ironing my father's and brother's dress shirts.  As chores went, ironing was the best because I could watch TV as I ironed.  The better the show, the slower I ironed.