Coming Home

I love the men and women who love their country so much they are willing to leave the life they live, the homes they built and the people they love in order to stand up for that which they believe.  

I love it when the planes land at the airport and you see soldiers coming home.  The applause that sometimes breaks out at just the sight of our brave men and women setting foot once more on American soil.

The cries of joy when a familiar face is spotted.  The little kids dancing from foot to foot watching as Mom or Dad gets closer and closer until they're let loose to fly into the waiting arms of the Parent who has ached to hold their little hearts close to their own.  Dads meeting their newborns and all the feelings that race across their faces in those first few moments of "Hi you, I'm your Dad".  These stalwart men who face all that is bad in the world, worn hands gently holding their babies for the first time.  Breathing in the innocence they helped create.  Silent tears sliding down chiseled cheeks. 

The hugs that go on forever and ever ... and nowhere near long enough, between Husbands and Wives and Boyfriends and Girlfriends ... and Best Friends.  Not wanting to let go because your heart has been without its other half for far too long.  All the 'Missing You' letters and emails and phonecalls culminating into this moment where you can't make yourself let go.  It just feels too good to hold on and be held; faces being showered with kisses.

The tears that flow unabashedly from strangers witnessing this homecoming.  Being grateful for just peripherally being able to feel this moment with them, the pure joy emanating from these families becoming whole once more.

While you may not be at the forefront of my mind every day, I carry you in my heart continually.  Each time a  plane lands here carrying more soldiers, a sigh of relief escapes me that another soldier has come home to their family.  Another Mom and Dad know their Son or their Daughter is laying their head on their own pillow, sleeping in their own bed tonight.  Another Husband, another Wife can reach over tonight and hold the hand of the one they hold dearest.  Tomorrow morning another little kid can race into their parents bedroom to jump on the bed and pounce on Mom and Dad to start the day.

Thank you to all of our Soldiers.  While I appreciate your decision to leave to defend us, I so love seeing you come home.

If I Were A...

Love this idea and as this blog is all about things I love, I decided to include it here.  I read the idea from Daniellie's blog who had seen the idea on 'the amazing Brenda's' blog so it's similar to one of those chain emails except you are not obligated to do anything. 

Bottom line is that it made me smile and therefore fulfilled the prerequisites of my blog.

If I were a month, I'd be December. 

Come on. Christmas lights sparkling, glittery presents under the tree, delicious smells emanating from the kitchen, this one's easy.

If I were a day of the week, I'd be Saturday.

Frank's home, we go for walks, wander art galleries, try new recipes.

If I were a time of day, I'd be 10am. 

If you wanted to sleep in, you've had the opportunity yet the day is still fresh for a world of opportunities to occur.  Did I hear dog park?  (Two sets of ears just pricked up).

If I were a planet, I'd be Venus.

I'm a girl.  This one almost seems mandatory.  Although I do love the idea of being Jupiter as it is the biggest in our solar system and has four moons surrounding it.  Kind of like cabana boys catering to your every beck and call.  (OK, maybe not exactly like that, but this is things I love!).

If I were an animal, I'd be Otis.

All Joy All The Time.  (That's his personal motto; it's on his doggie business cards).

If were a direction, I'd be South. 

Cold is North.  Fiji is South.  White sand beaches.  Definitely South.

If I were a piece of furniture, I'd be a porch swing.

Admittedly, this was what Daniellie put, but once I read that, I could not think of one piece of furniture that evokes a better feeling than a porch swing.  Excellent choice, BabyGirl.

If I were a liquid, I'd be the ocean.

Crashing against the rocks, surging onto the beach and then receding again.  Always moving, life giving.

If I were a gemstone, I'd be a diamond.

Nothing sparkles like it.  Created under tremendous heat and pressure.  Beauty from turmoil.

If I were a tree, I'd be an old oak tree.

A favorite spot for tire swings and kids playing hide and seek.  Massive branches providing an abundance of dappled shade for picnics or lying on your back daydreaming.

If I were a tool, I'd be a pencil and a piece of paper.

Everything starts when the pencil and paper come together.

If I were a flower, I'd be a hibiscus. 

So vibrant and visually conjures feelings of someplace tropical.

If I were a kind of weather, I'd be an unexpected sun shower on a beautiful day just long enough to cool you off and think 'where did that come from?'.

If I were a musical instrument, I'd be a piano.

Again this was Daniellie's but to be able to summon such a range of sound and call forth a sea of emotions from one instrument...

If I were a color, I'd be red.

All the colors of red.  Red is passion.  Red is moving.  And when you look at the spelling of red too long, you begin to wonder if it's spelled correctly!

If I were an emotion, I'd be joy.

Eyes dancing, belly laughing, can't hardly catch your breath joy.

If I were a fruit, I'd be a Honeycrisp apple.

Best apples in the whole wide world.  They are exactly as advertised in the name (the taste of honey and oh-so-crisp) and are only available here in October.  I believe we eat more apples during that time than the rest of the year combined.

If I were a sound, I'd be the sound of the leaves in the treetops when the breeze dances through them.

If I were an element, I'd be the wind.

Cooling you off when it's too hot.  Lifting birds up to play in the gusts.

If I were a car, I'd be a classic convertible.

Seats as big as couches, lots of chrome, room in the backseat for dogs to enjoy the ride, too.

If I were a food, I'd be seafood stew.

Loving soup and loving seafood, this, to me, is a winning combination.

If I were a place, I'd be the sky. 

The sky when you're laying on your back on cool grass, finding faces in the clouds, watching their wispiness float across that brilliant cerulean never-ending sky.

If I were a material, I'd be silk.

Just a whisper across the skin.

If I were a taste, I'd be salty sweet.

Salt on the rim of a margarita glass.  One completely different, but complimentary, taste right before the other.  The best of both worlds.

If I were a scent, I'd be the scent of something you loved from your childhood.

If I were a body part, I'd be the colon.

I hear a whole lot of 'Eeeewwwwwww!!!' right now but hear me out.  This is where everything that doesn't need to be in your life is swept out.  All the of the negative, so to speak, instantly eliminated from your life.  You naturally feel better at the most basic level when this occurs.  The eyes, the heart, I bet they get a ton of votes, but the colon really does an amazing job.

If I were a pair of shoes, I'd be something in beautiful Italian leather with a three inch heel.

You probably thought Birkenstock after the colon answer, didn't you?

If I were a facial expression, I'd be an ear to ear, eye crinkling, face splitting smile!

Hands Down

I like looking at hands.  I like imagining the world those hands have seen and the lives those hands have molded.  The road those hands have yet to travel.

When I was growing up, a large part of it was spent living in the country.  We had horses and knew quite a few people that lived that life.  The men usually wore gloves.  It wasn't for vanity, it was for protection.  Function over fashion never entered into the equation, it was just common sense. 

Throwing bales of hay or roping cattle, these were working men.  I remember looking at their hands when their gloves came off.  Weathered skin.  Calloused hands.  Nothing lining up perfectly as they had been broken in the past but continued on doing what needed to be done.  These same hands capable of being so gentle when calming a nervous horse, stroking the velvety skin of their noses, talking quietly to them until the horse lost their stiff-legged nerves and exhaled a soft nicker.  Large, strong hands absentmindedly scratching the ever-present good dog behind the ears while sitting on a tailgate at days end.

I like seeing the Mom hands of today in their never ending balancing act.  Kids and strollers and baby bags - oh my!  Snacks and drinks and things to amuse the babies all crammed into a (usually stylish) giant purse so Mom can, in-an-instant, have her hands on whatever she may need to calm the raging tide of child emotions with which she is currently dealing.  Hands making lists, hands reaching for the eternal/infernal cell phone, hands wiping "What is that?" off of faces.  Hands wrapping around little shoulders and rocking broken hearts and little hurts until everything is 'all better' again.

I like baby hands.  Skin so soft and smelling so fresh - no other fragrance like it in the world.  With dimples for knuckles, chubby little hands in their quest to wrap their whole hand around Dads' finger, hanging on for dear life while balancing precariously on still unsure legs.  And in that wondrous glance up at Dad's face, wrapping his heart around their little finger.

I like Franks' hands.  I see his hand when he reaches out to hold doors open for me; whether getting into a vehicle or walking into a building, his hand always preceding me to clear my way.  I am quietly reminded of his good manners and infinite kindness when I see those hands reach out to take whatever I may be carrying to lighten my load.  Ever the gentleman. 

When Frank and I walk, our hands, almost unconsciously, reach one for the other.  Where his end and mine begin, I can't see.  I like that we have our secret 'hand Morse code' when we are out and about.  Salesmen trying to convince us of the latest and greatest ... whatever ... a subtle little squeeze between us.  The unspoken code of 'Su-u-u-ure'.  The unseen squeeze of 'time to move on'.

I like when we lay in bed at night holding hands while the day comes to a close, quietly talking about the latest this and that ... or nothing at all.  It makes me laugh when our Pomeranian, Stanley (also known as The Chaperone), purposefully makes his way across the mattress to lay on top of our hands.  Keeping us honest.  My guess is, he likes hands, too.

Now We're Cookin'

I love to cook.  I like reading cookbooks and any of them by America's Test Kitchen/Cook's Country are my favorites.  The Cook's Country cookbooks actually give a little history lesson on the dish itself and then the variations they tested before coming up with the final product.  I trust those recipes the most as they are, for the most part, foolproof.

When I want to cook something that is not in my most trusted, many times I will go online and find a few versions of the recipe.  Then I read the reviews and incorporate those until I have my own test variation.  Frank is my guinea pig and never seems to mind as we usually end up with something pretty good.

When it comes to the actual cooking, I like hearing the sizzle of chopped onion as it hits the hot olive oil.  I like how fragrant the house becomes as layer upon layer of flavor are added to the dish until I hear "Wow!!!" as Frank comes through the door after work.  Sometimes, he tells me, he can smell the dish all the way outside when he gets out of the vehicle.

I like the creation of cooking.  Taking a dozen ingredients that look like regular staples individually; melding a little of this, a pinch of that and a splash of 'what is that I taste?'.  Bringing it all together as a bubbling, delicious dish of 'We are sooooooo making this again!'

I like the camaraderie of cooking.  Thanksgiving, Christmas or even backyard get-togethers all seem to revolve around the kitchen.  I've heard it said time and time again, it doesn't seem to matter how big your home is, whenever people come over, they all seem to end up in the kitchen. 

But, I think the thing I love the most about cooking, is that if you cook, someone else does the dishes!!!

Sweet Baby Girl

I have a niece named Danielle and I have been very lucky in that I have been included in her life since she was born. 

What do I like about you?
Why do I love you so much?
What are your positive aspects?

I like that you were a completely unexpected part of my life and yet I could not possibly imagine it now without you.

I like the way your face radiates happiness when I see you.  I like that you express yourself so well and that you are pursuing your dream of being a writer.  I like that you see the stories in your imagination and (seemingly) so easily transfer them to the written word.

I love that I got the opportunity to live the wonder that is Santa Claus for another dozen years because of you.  I find Christmas so magical and love that you gave us all a newfound reason to make it special again.

I like you that gently but unswervingly defend your friends and your convictions.  I like that you stand up for yourself and will not bend to social standards if it doesn't feel right to you.  I like that you feel the right thing inside of yourself and that you act upon it so often.

I love that you have such compassion for animals.  The fact that you so naturally defend the most defenseless among us resonates with me that your place in heaven in assured.  Sometimes I feel God acts through you.  I see selfless acts through you and it washes away the cynicism that sometimes splashes upon me.

I love that you include me in your life.  I love that we draw together or play Mario together or watch movies together or go to the fair together.  I love that when we spend time together, more often than not, my cheeks usually end up aching from all the laughing we have done together.

I love that you are so kind to my dogs Otis and Stanley.  I love how Otis looks around me for you when you come through my front door.  I love that when you're here, you're the first person he wants to see in the morning and that you're the last person he wants to wake up before he goes to bed at night.  I love that you are so playful and loving with both Otis and Stanley.

Your positive aspects are your patience, your kindness, your gentleness, your creativity, your loyalty, how much you love and that you're willing to let people know how much you love them.

I'm so very grateful to God for you; that He put you in our family.  My heart swells close to bursting when I think of all the reasons why it is so easy to like you and just how much I love you.