Eyes of Soul

Dear Mom,

I was at a spiritual seminar this past weekend. They presented various workshops on spiritual topics and creative arts workshops focusing on the spiritual aspect. I decided to take a step out of my comfort zone and check out the workshop on photography, Looking through the Eyes of Soul.

While I was away, spring had sprung. When I arrived home, it had just rained and the sun burst through the clouds. The phlox and red buds jumped out so before I unpacked my car, I grabbed my camera and took a look—through the eyes of Soul. It’s interesting by just changing my perspective how objects take on a different kind of light.

Here’s one of the phlox and although there are some better photos, I’m saving them for a bigger project I have in mind.

Watermelon

Dear Mom,

Another food that reminds me of you and that I love is watermelon. I wrote a little story about it and am hoping some day it will be published. It must need more work or I haven’t found the right publication.

I’m not a fan of watermelon flavor like gum, hard candy or juice type drinks. Blah. I do like the looks of anything watermelon and have purchased something if I really liked it. I saw a set of watermelon dishes once that I considered buying, but didn’t know whether or not it would be worth the expense because I felt you’d only want to use them during summer. It’s like having Christmas dishes. Where do you keep them all? I just saw the cutest watermelon candle but I’m at the stage of my life where I’m wanting to get rid of things so I easily passed it up.

I always buy the real thing and eat it with great pleasure remembering you.

Here’s my favorite watermelon sitting in my garden in the various seasons. It’s made out of a hunk of tree that had fallen in a storm. Norm painted it for me after I begged and whined. The watermelon is starting to look a little shabby, but I still love it.

Malt Balls

Dear Mom,

Easter time reminds me of malt balls. I’m a malt ball connoisseur although I wish I wasn’t. Due to my addictive personality, malt balls are something I can’t seem to stop eating when given the perfect malt ball. Fortunately, the perfect one doesn’t exist, but there is one brand, Brach’s that comes close—and now it only comes out at Easter time. This year I’ve noticed their chocolate isn’t as good. That’s a good thing as it keeps me from eating as many.

I remember getting these in our Easter baskets when we were little. I used to steal them out of Ruthie’s when she wasn’t looking. I’d give her something else. Not that she had a choice in the matter.

When you'd grocery shopped once a week, you’d let Ruthie and I pick out one bag of candy. You’d say, “That has to last a week,” while we shoveled in the candy. We’d keep on eating. Then you’d say, “When it’s gone, it’s gone.” If the bag of candy was malt balls, I’m sure Ruthie didn’t get her fair share and the bag was gone the same day.

Maybe I’m fond of malt balls because it reminds me of you.

Happy Easter

Dear Mom,

I remember you made Jell-O Easter Eggs one year. They didn’t have molds back then. You pain stakingly blew the egg yolk from a small opening, filled it with Jell-O and after it set, you cracked it like a hard boiled egg. Voila, we had red, yellow, green and orange Jell-O eggs. Pretty impressive. I make them with molds and they can be kind of a pain.

Rita must get her creativeness from you as I never would have thought to do that, nor would I have had the patience. Knowing you, and your frugalness (another trait I inherited) every time you made breakfast with eggs, you blew the yolk out to save the shell for the Jell-O eggs.

I hope seeing the sheer delight on our faces was thanks enough.

Jessica's 25th Birthday

Dear Mom,

Today your granddaughter is 25. I’m not there to celebrate her birthday in person, but hopefully she’ll see that I’m blogging about her to you.

Jessica (nor the other two, Casey and Rita) never had the pleasure of you as their grandmother—or their paternal grandmother who passed away right before Jessica was born. Jessica was due around St. Patrick’s Day, which, if I’m not mistaken I think was her other grandmother’s birthday. I had planned to name Jessica an Irish name Erin, in honor of her paternal grandmother. For the life of me I don’t know why I didn’t name her after you. I would have called her Vera, not Alvera. I think Jessica wishes I would have named her Vera too. Oh well, it is what it is.

Jessica was born with two dislocated hips. She had to wear this contraption that pulled her legs up in a squatting frog position, and for a solid three months, 24/7. If not, she could have been crippled. I was always grateful for her pediatrician’s catching the dislocation as it can go unnoticed until they start walking. A lady I know knew someone who had that same thing and nothing was done for her. She ended up in an institution because no one wanted to take care of her being crippled. Breaks your heart.

You would love Jessica just as much as I do.

Happy 25th Birthday Jessica!
(Jessica shares a birthday with her half brother, Erik. Happy Birthday Erik and thanks for serving our country in Iraq!)

Here’s Jessica last year after her performance in the Vagina Monologues. She’ll be in the Vagina Monologues again this year – April 10 & 11 at Webster University. Wish you could see her perform.

Speaking of Pencil Stabbings

Dear Mom,

Remember the time I left toothpicks all over the living room floor because I was digging out the crud in my toenails? Then Warren stepped on one and it jammed through his foot. I got yelled at by both of you. Deservingly of course.

Karma works even when we’re not aware of it.

I wanted Warren to play Cowboys and Indians. Warren had a bb gun and I watched as he made sure there were no bbs in the chamber. He pointed the gun at his palm and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Then he proceeded to point the gun at me and what do you know, a bb came out and hit me right in the eye. Luckily nothing serious but a little red mark. I cried and he apologized.

Warren begged me not to tell, but I ran to you crying, “Warren shot me in the eye!” You chewed him out because even though he checked the gun, he still wasn’t supposed to point the gun at anyone.

Toothpicks and bbs. One wiped out the other. I hope. But then there was the time….

April Fool!

Dear Mom,

I’m not blogging anymore.

April Fool.

My kids always liked to April Fool me. The one I fell for the most was when Rita rang the doorbell to the front door. When I opened it she was bawling and bent over, spurting, “I stabbed myself…” I could see a pencil stuck through her hand. I about had a heart attack. Rita laughed like a hyena, and shouted, “April Fools!” I wanted to smack her, and probably said, “Don’t you ever do that again. That’s not funny.” But then I started laughing because she did such a realistic rendition of a pencil stabbing.

I don’t remember doing this, but they all told me that one April Fool’s I got them really good. I set all the clocks ahead one hour, then ran into their rooms shouting, “You’re late for school! Hurry up, you gotta catch the bus! I can’t drive you, I have to get to work, hurry!” I gave it my best panicked mother voice. They all jumped up and then I casually told them, “April Fools!” and we all ate breakfast together. You’d think I’d remember such a good prank, but I don’t.