California 2014

Due to amazing timing and an Air Flight employee who was up to her eyeballs in overbooked flights mumbo-jumbo, Sweet Sarah and I scored SIX FREE ROUND TRIP FLIGHTS last year.  Yes, you read that right.  6.  SIX.  S-I-X.  Yeppers.

So it went down something like this......my mother in law and quotable father in law [and when I say quotable, picture said FIL and dad from S%$T my dad says as long lost brothers] met us at the airport at a ripe 7:30 AM for our flight to the annual Northcraft family reunion.  Upon checking their suitcases and meeting us at security with a beach tent they were carrying on [yep, not kidding],  he promptly demanded to know if we were ready for a drink.  I'm pretty sure someone reminded him we hadn't even had breakfast yet, to which he replied, "Well, hell.  You can't drink all day if you don't start in the morning!"  Touche, Jim. Touche.

Fast forward through two screwdrivers and a VERY chaotic boarding call, when low and behold like manna from heaven I hear "Ladies and Gentleman, this flight is overbooked.  If you're willing to take the next flight, I will give you two round trip vouchers."  A mere thirty seconds later, the same flustered, frazzled, shoulda been drinking with us Air Tran employee announces, "Ladies and Gentleman, once again, this flight is overbooked.  If you're willing to take the next flight I will give you THREE round trip vouchers."

Without haste, I turn to Sweet Sarah and announce I'm leaving her.  Well, not leaving, leaving.  Just that I'm taking the offer and I'll see her on the flip side.  And here's when it happens people.  Sweet Sarah is no longer Sweet Sarah.  nope.  Not at all.  When Sweet Sarah puts her foot down.  She PUTS.  IT.  DOWN.  She says, "oh I don't think so!"

"Oh, yes, I am!  It's THREE vouchers!  FREE!!!"

"Oh, no.  Only if they give us both vouchers."

And then, like sweet manna from heaven, the same frazzled desk worker "I can hear you ladies.  Get up here.  I'll give you both three free tickets."

SCORE!!!  Meanwhile, Jim and Judy are compliantly boarding the flight.  We wave our goodbyes and BAM!, so begins our free year of vacations!

We've been to Denver and Florida.  And for our last trip we headed out to California to see my sister and her adorable family.

The Gedney clan recently moved to an adorable little gold mining town in the foothills of California. And by adorable, I mean...well, lookit.

See!!!  And to say nothing of the fact that there are NINE tasting rooms on Main Street.  [Surprisingly, we only made it to three!]

We had a great few days with the Gedneys.  I'll let the pictures tell most of the stories, but here are the highlights....

• Breakfast at a cool little place called Element on Main Street
• Wine Tasting with John and Amy
• Feeding baby goats by bottle
• Cheering on Gus in two baseball games
• Having a 4H Gold medal winner present a highly interesting cheese demonstration for us by special request

At breakfast.  A beautiful picture of Amy

My sweet niece, Elle

Gus, the growing nephew.  What a great smile!

The Gedney clan at breakfast.  I love this picture.

Wine tasting.  Our first stop.

Enjoying Main Street

Another shot of this adorable town

Elle has Aunt Sarah wrapped around her finger.  Ice Cream?  of course!

Feeding [and cleaning] of the baby goats

Post dinner cuddling

Full belly napping

Playing in the All Star League

Already looking like a teenager

The Gold Medal Presentation

Cow, Goat or Sheep Cheese.  They are all different, according to the expert

Serving us up

Runner on third

Why, yes.  Yes this is posted on the dugouts.  No joke! 

Two beauties!

Dad, seven things I would tell you

That Mercy Me Song, When I Finally Make It Home,  gets me every time.

I'm gonna wrap my arms around my daddy's neck and tell him that I've missed him
And tell him all about the man that i became and hope that it pleased him
there's so much i want to say
there's so much i want you to know.

[chorus]
When i finally make it home
when i finally make it home.

It also always make me wonder, "what would I say to my dad right now?" ....what will I say to my dad?

It's certainly hard not to be nostalgic and a little bit sad on Father's Day [ok, this is the part where I'm really honest and recognize that any sense or implication that Father's Day was a big deal in our family is totally only being romanticized as part of  the grieving process.  Does it clear it up if I tell you I still have an unsigned Father's Day card in my box of cards because I never got around to sending it EIGHT YEARS ago?  And you know what?  Pretty sure if I remember correctly Dad didn't care.  So yeah, nostalgic only because every other blessed commercial for the last week has been about dads, NOT because we held a big shin dig every year and my dad was totally into it, hugging us girls in his pleated khakis and just relishing the time we were spending together as a family.  Nope.  uh-huh.  Think more along the lines of Archie Bunker in his chair, glad that we were home, but irritated if we got too loud and he couldn't hear the tv.  

Right.  Ok, now, back to my sappy moment.  

So, if I were given just even thirty minutes with my dad here are some of the things I might say......

1.  First, WTH!!  I'd be lying if I didn't say that first. I mean REALLY?!  Ok, no seriously, I know this wasn't your plan to leave us so early and so unexpectedly.   But REALLY?!!!!

Sheesh.

 Sigh. 

Ok. 

I have these moments every once in a while since you've been gone. Ok, give me a sec. I'll get it back together. 

Let's move on. 

2.  Next, you've done a bang up job with the Tigers from up there. They've had a couple of great seasons [well, except for 2008.  What happened?  Did you get a little too cocky up there or what?]  Or were you thrown off because George Kell was sick?  Nevertheless, keep it up.  I'm a little worried about their longevity this year.  Do you think this guy can manage in the post-season?

3.  Mom.  She's doing great. I known you're not surprised by this, but still. It's worth saying out loud.  I mean, as you know, most women couldn't handle this....luckily she's not most women.  Don't get me wrong, she still has her moments and her days. But overall, she's doing great.  She's finding her way.  And yes she's still as stubborn as ever, but that's probably the trait that has kept her putting one foot in front of the other.  Looking back, I'm still amazed at how she has persevered. [she is still looking for the left-handed guy though]

4.  My sisters?  Oh yeah, they're doing great too.  They are amazing mothers, devoted wives and incredibly successful professionals. While I think they are both lamenting how fast their kids are growing up, they are both so proud of what beautiful, caring engaging human beings they have brought into this world.  You'd be proud to know they've implemented the "blood is thicker than water", make everything a competition and you'll love baseball because you're a Spann mantra in all of the kids.

They both are starting new careers and I tell you, the people that hired them knew they had rock stars when they interviewed because they were snatched right up. Yep, I know. You'd expect nothing less. 

5.  Those grand kids?  Oh those beautiful  grand kids!  There are so many wonderful things to say about them. They're funny. They're kind and they, of course, have God given natural athletic ability.  Pretty much they look like you out there on the field.  [though they don't look like they're hauling a caboose around.]  They miss you though.  Seems strange that you've missed so much of their growing up, yet they have many of your traits.

6.  Ok, this might be more of a question or a statement.  Either way, if it isn't true don't ruin it for me because it really does comfort me.  Just grin and nod if it's not true or own it anyway because then the next time it'll be even better.  So those deer that I always see when I'm thinking about you or the mounted patrol that came clip-clopping down the street as we ate on the sidewalk patio last night at dinner, how is your timing so perfect to send them right when I need it?  I mean, sometimes I don't really need to be crying on the way to work and all, but it seems like every time I'm thinking of you or missing you, BAM!  there's Bambi along the side of the road.  Anyway, again.  Just grin and nod or take credit.  Because it works. 

7.  Sweet Sarah.  Oh, Dad.  I wish you could have met Sweet Sarah.  [yeah, yeah, save the lawyer jokes]  She's smart and funny and patient and kind.  She makes me happy.  And bless her heart, she can balance me like no one else.  You'd like her, eventually you'll be able to look past the fact that she's a Yankees fan [but I'm breaking her of that].  Give me some time [another Tigers World Series Run wouldn't hurt.  Hint, hint.]

Dad, we all miss you.  A lot. 

Do you remember in your last hours when I was whispering in your ear "I just want you to be proud of me"?  I never knew if you really heard me or not, so I'll say it again.  

"Dad, I just want you to be proud of me."

Happy Father's Day.

Random Thoughts.

4.  I'm sitting in a car dealership and I'm fascinated by how people are entertaining themselves while waiting.  One woman....a COMPLETE art gallery setup.  Apparently she's planning on being here through July.

a.  Who watches these daytime shows?  I mean really.  Do you think tv hosts that have mid-day shows feel like they are the books in the alcove of Barnes and Noble on 82% discount?

b.  Someone needs to invent a "it's trying to be spring because the sun is bright but it's really only 36 degrees so these shoes will be perfect" shoe.  You guys, it's awful.  Flip flops are too cold.   Other shoes are too hot.  How do you solve this issue?  Socks with flip flops?  I'm close to that.

IXII.  So 40+ days ago we went vegetarian for Lent.  I haven't gone back and I don't miss the "other side".  Never thought I'd say that.  But MYGOODNESS it's really true that some restaurants haven't figured out how to create a menu for non-meat eaters.  

2.  I'm still eating fish.  Does that count?  What does that make me?

g.  Rachael Ray just got a round of applause for taking corn off of the stove.  I think Sweet Sarah should start applauding me when I pull things off of the stove.  Yes, yes, that's a brilliant idea.  If you're at The Drayer when I'm cooking, pay attention and cheer/clap A LOT!

68.  I'm still at the car dealership and considering wondering around the showroom and slowly, lurkingly walking up to each car.  Opening each door on EVERY car and leaving them open.  Then slowly walking away.  How long until they notice?

iii.  oh!  A better idea.  Maybe I'll start wandering the lot and try and sell some cars.  Just walk up to customers as if I'm in the sales department.  "What brings you out today?  Excellent!  I can help you out with that.  Let me grab some keys."   Act like you know what you're doing people!  You can pull anything off.  Hang on, I'm being paged to the sales desk.  

6.  Just  because it's THE number.

99.  I can't currently think of 2 songs with the number 99 in them.  

Ok, that's enough from this wandering brain.  I've got to deliver a car and sign off on trade-in papers for the Wilsons.  Their super excited about the deal I got for them.  I probably should've checked with someone, but I'm sure it'll be fine.

I needed this snow

Ok, I admit it.  I'm as annoyed as anyone about this snow.  I mean, SNOW?  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  It's mid APRIL!  HELLO???!!!!  Is there anyone out there listening to us? We are ready for this madness of being stuck on the inside of a snow globe to stop.  Just stop already!!!!!!!!!!!  Stop it.  STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT!

Yep, that's what I was thinking this morning.  And then WHAMMO!  As I was calculating in my "I grew up where I can get anywhere in 15 minutes head and this city traffic is impossible" what time I needed to leave because of the snow it hit me.  Things will be slower today.  Snow always slows things down.

Sigh.  Yeah.  The snow is slowing things down.  

For weeks, ok, months, I have been dreaming and fantasizing and plotting and planning and talking about what I'm going to do when spring arrives.  I mean, for real, I cannot WAIT!  I'm so excited to get outside and play and garden and myrtle in our newly renovated yard.  It's going to be bliss.  

But today, the snow is changing all of that.

As well it should.  And we should.  We who celebrate and honor and remember Holy Week.  WE should slow down.  We shouldn't rush it.  

Imagine, being told this was it.  The last week of your life.  Would you rush to the bitter end, hurry up and finish, yeah, yeah, yeah you're way through conversations and tasks and hello/goodbyes?  

I don't think so.  At least I wouldn't.  

Oh, no.  Like the last cookie Girl Scout cookie in the box, one tinsy bite at a time.  I'd chew and savor and take my own sweet time getting through it. 

But no!  What have I done?  All I've done is tried to get to the other side.  Binge and purge my way through what remains of this wretched season because I'm done with it.  And ready for something new.

Right out of grad school I decided I wanted to take up gardening.  I was living in the south at the time, so any bit of gardening wisdom I had gleaned weeding my mother's and grandmother's Ohio flower beds applied little.  The plants were different, the seasons were different and well, quite frankly, I really wasn't all that interested in it, only so much that I didn't pull a flower as a weed so I didn't get in trouble.  [I still struggle telling the difference between sprouts of coreopsis and a weed].  Thankfully, a sweet woman I worked with too me under my wing.  She gave me an entire garden full of plants.  FREE!!!  I couldn't believe it.  I felt like I should offer to pay her, but deep down didn't want to because I knew I couldn't afford it.  Begrudgingly I asked her how much I owed her.  She grinned and said, "Holly, these were either going to you or the trash."  My first lesson in perennial gardening in the south. Flowers ARE LIKE WEEDS!  

Near the end of my second season, I trudged over to her office very frustrated.  Some of my plants were dying and I couldn't figure out the reason.  I diligently explained the situation.  Type of light, amount of water, verified the plant [I think I may have even brought her a sample].  She grinned and said, "Holly, plants don't live forever.  It's part of being a gardener, making way for new by removing the old."  Another lesson in gardening.  I am not God and can't give eternal life.  [though to this day I still try diligently, just ask the houseplant that's down to one little stick on our side table.]

Another lesson I was reminded of was after my first season.  Following the winter [mild where I was living at the time], my garden mentor asked me if I had walked my yard yet to look at tall of the new growth and to see what had survived.  Since we had only had a few weeks of nice weather it hadn't occurred to me to look around yet.  She grinned and said, "of all the seasons in my garden, this is my favorite.  Immediately following winter, I am giddy with anticipation to see what the spring will bring.  Plants need winter.  They rest and slow down their growth and rejuvenate.  It's such an exciting time."

Our exciting time is coming.  Soon, we will walk our yards and look for new growth.  We will see  what the end of winter has brought and the warm sun of spring will bring forth.  

But this morning, I'm wondering.....my pushing through Lent and check, check, checking off the 40 days, only to be confronted with what now appears to be adding up to now 2 inches of snow on my hyacinth sprouts, I needed this snow.  

I needed this snow.  There, I said it.  Sorry to all of you who are grumbling and cold and frustrated.  

But I needed it.  Today, I needed to be reminded that it IS indeed Holy Week.  A week that we, all who see the cross as more than a pretty piece of jewelry, must slow down and savor.

"It's Friday, but Sunday's a-coming"  Nay, "It's snowing, but Sunday's a-coming"

The Drayer woes and text humor

This morning as we were getting ready for work we heard this awful scratching sound coming from behind the bathroom wall. The infamous Teddy was NOT happy about it and quickly made his presence known (this the cat that makes a beeline for the basement when he hears the doorbell)

The following is a text conversation between Sweet Sarah and myself letting her know I scheduled an exterminator.  I can hardly see to type because of the tears. So funny. And yes you should feel sorry for Sweet Sarah. 

The convo goes on. But this is the gist. 

Hope this makes you laugh on a Monday. 

One foot in front of the other, Mom

Right after my dad died, someone said to me, "It'll get easier."  And I remember simultaneously thinking, "well, let's just speed it up." and "NO! NO!  STOP THE WORLD.  If it gets easier I'll forget."

It's true.  It has gotten easier.  In some ways.  My memories with and of my dad are still very strong.  His one-liners and sayings are alive in well in the Spann family, which always evoke a smile or a laugh or a groan.  But in other ways, it's not easier.  Sometimes, I still have a really deep, raw grief.  It usually comes over me most unsuspecting, like a pop-up summer lightening storm.  Out of nowhere.  Powerful and striking and demanding attention.

Other times, it's a slow, lingering ache, mostly when it hits me that he's never coming back.  Never.  You'd think I wouldn't need to be reminded.  But I guess that's what grief does.  Or is.  A reminder of what was, what isn't, what won't be.

Every year at the anniversary of his death, I take time to make space and remember and honor and give thanks for him, his gifts and legacy to me and my family.  And each year I've taken time to write about him.

This year, I'm thinking and remembering him.  And I'm writing about my mom.

…………………………….

In the moments when my spirit knew before my heart and mind knew what was about to happen in the next hours, my sub-conscious was already trying to process.  The memory is planted in my mind plainly.  I know exactly where I was while I was barreling down I-75 to pack a bag and return back to meet my mom and sister.  When I left the hospital the plan was to get some dinner and go back in the morning.  But somehow, somehow, my spirit knew those were the last words I would hear him say to me.  "Thanks for coming, Holly".  I was focused on driving, fast.  Get there.  Get back.  But why?  Why the rush?  We hadn't been given bad news at that point.  Get there.  Get back.  Get there.  You're too young to have to worry about your parents.  This shouldn't be happening.  Get there.  Get back.  My poor mom.  Oh, mom.  Oh, my mom.  Get there.  Get back.  Mom.  My spirit knew.
……………………………...

Mom,

What has been six years for us, has probably felt like a lifetime for you, or a moment, all at once.  In those six years you have taught me so much.

No woman ever dreams of waking up on her 40th wedding anniversary less than 24 hours past making the "until death do us part" real.  But you did.   You put one foot in front of the other and made it through the day.  And then the next and the next.

We, my sisters and I, have grieved for dad.  You already know that.  He's missed so much and has been missed so much.   Always a missing place at our gatherings and celebrations.

Mom, we've grieved for you too.  Plans blown to pieces with one last breath.  Dreams of a retirement and traveling and golfing and enjoying years and years of hard work and sacrifice gone before you could process the reality.

Like parents of school children, we've been saddened to see friendships lost because you're no longer a couple. We've stayed awake waiting for your text to make sure you made it home safely, like you did for us not too many years ago.  We've seen you heal and grow and move through all the stages of grief and back again.  Yet, you keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Proudly from the sidelines we have cheered you on as you've dipped your toe in the waters of new friendships and hobbies and, yes, even dating.

For six years, your courage, sometimes roaring like a lion, more often, gently, daily putting one foot in front of the other.

Anyone who has met a Spann daughter knows you and dad raised strong, confident, brave, courageous women.  We confidently (sometimes a little too confidently) make it known that there isn't much  from which we are going to back down.  I can picture dad, even today, with swollen pride taking full credit for the confident women we have become.  And you.  You quietly let him take the credit.

Mom, you have faced your fears and tried new things and made new friends and along the way you've taught me so much in these six years.  We are so proud of you.  And Dad would be too.  That crooked little grin of his, saying, "Baby girl, I knew you could do it."

What I've really learned in the last six years, is that it was you, mom, who deserved the credit for our ability to keep going.  One foot in front of another.  Head up and confident, even when we didn't want to.

Keep stepping mom.  There's not much from which you're going to back down.  One foot in front of the other today.  And tomorrow.

We're still cheering you on.

Love you,
H

Random Thoughts

1.  Is anyone else predicting that their gas bill will be somewhere around the sum of the national debt post 2014 Polar Vortex 2.0?

c.  You know in the movies when one of the characters says to the other, "Let's just stay home and play hookie today."  How come I've never done that?  Doesn't a day when they're calling for -16 wind chill justify the perfect day for that?  Think I'll do it?

d.  I love candles.  Burning them in our house makes it cozy and smell good and seemingly warm, even though it's broad daylight.  I love them.  I have drawers and boxes of them.  Not kidding.  At all.  I have a candle drawer in an armoire, measuring 4 feet by 2 1/2 feet.  PLUS…..yes, plus, I have two boxes of candles in the basement.  Name the shape, color, variety, scent I have it.  Well for a short while anyway, until I burn through them.  Love them.

IV.  Roman numerals.  Why don't we count with them more often?  We should.  I mean how many of you will have to stop long enough to figure out exactly what Super Bowl it is anyway?

XIXVII.  And why does the NFL insist on roman numerals for their championship?  Clearly the sport doesn't hearken back to the Roman empire.  anyone?  Anyone?

M.  We played Monopoly last night.  It totally makes me giddy, like I'm all 11 years old again sitting around the kitchen table playing with my sisters and my dad.  And…..well, I'll just say.  I.  MUST.  WIN.  MUSTWIN.  MUST.  [I did by the way]

17.  I woke up this morning from a dream about working in my garden.  Hopeful much?

6.  Because the list must always include my favorite number.

S.  The poinsettia one of our dinner guests gave us before Christmas is alive and well, but shedding leaves like it's his job, to which The Drayer four legged occupants either bat around the house until all of the crumbled pieces are evenly scattered in every room or ingest and minutes later puke up, only to be found later by the two legged occupants outfitted with opposable thumbs, helpful when operating the SpotBot.

T.  SpotBot.  Don't have one?  You must purchase this thing.  Worth every red cent if you have pets or children or red wine spilling guests.

3.  I'm thinking I shall adopt a new winter look of wearing a stylish hat.  [I say this every year.  Hasn't happened yet.]

Stay warm my friends, I have hosta to tend to.