Blankies

My godchild just came into town and with her came her blankie that I made for her when she was born. She's 41. Too bad I didn't take up knitting as a career. It's still intact!

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The frog isn't moving

My daughter just called, laughing so hard she could hardly talk.

The boys got water frogs a few days ago...one for each of them...and when they came home from school today, Justin's wasn't moving. Dead. Stone cold dead.

Lisa didn't know about Blueberry (the frog) until she called to tell them she was on her way home (they got home before her today). When Jason told her what happened, she asked to talk to Justin. But Jason, ever the big brother, told her Justin was too upset to come to the phone. So tonight there will be a brief ceremony before Blueberry is flushed.

So sad once you've named them and all....

We need our bookstores.

The Times had a story about Powell's Book Store this week. I got nervous when I saw the headline, thinking "oh no, not closing?" (talk about getting so used to gloom & doom economic reports that you read bad news into articles before you even read them!)

In case you haven't been to Powell's, it's awesome! A HUGE book emporium, covering a full city block in Portland. In the heart of the city. You could spend a week browsing and not see everything.

Turns out they're not closing. They've just tabled plans to expand for now....a smart move given the recession. But for a moment, I had a spooky vision of a world on Kindle.

Imagine not being able to hold a book in your hands...to turn crisp, clean pages and smell that wonderful new book scent. Or even the scent of a musty, well-worn book from years ago. How sad if we ever lose that. And yet it could happen if people stop buying books.

One of my best friends works in this wonderful, cozy comfy, I-want-to-stay-here-all-day bookstore in Carbondale, CO. When I talked to her the other day, she was hoping the store wouldn't really be closing at the end of the month. What a loss that would be. No more book signings or book club meetings. No curling up in the red leather chair with the reading lamp and trying to decide which book to buy. No colorful childrens' corner with the wonderful furry animal reading mats.

I SO hope people keep buying books. I tweeted about it earlier this week and posted something on my Facebook page to remind people in my neighborhood to support our fabulous independent bookstore, Unabridged. We've taken our grandchildren there as soon as they could walk. And it continues to be one of their favorite haunts when they come to visit. The best part?
They love to read.

Who is this person calling me "mom"?

My oldest daughter and her husband are renovating their kitchen. Seemed like a smarter move than buying a new house.

But we went out there a few days ago, and I couldn't believe what I saw. Let me preface this by mentioning that she is always cleaning. A clean freak. (OK, I may have had a small role in this but most of it's from her dad). Suffice it to say that a dust buster is never far from whatever room she's in.

So back to the house....
we walked in to a first floor that was pretty much totally gutted. No appliances. No cabinets. No ceilings or floors. Oh, and no sink or vanity in the bathroom. To get upstairs...which is where most of the things in the kitchen now reside...we had to maneuver under several very thick layers of plastic dropcloths put up to keep construction dust out (sort of).

The coffee pot is in the boys' bathroom. The toaster oven in the playroom. Cereal, crackers and other dry food goods are lined up neatly in the playroom along with paper plates and cups in case one of the boys gets hungry. There's an extra fridg in the garage but you have to go outside and through the garage to get to it.

And in the midst of all this mess, my daughter (the clean freak) is laughing and smiling and totally calm. And not even sedated (damn right, I asked!).

Last night she called to tell me they had a picnic on her comforter...in her bed. The boys loved it so they're doing it again.

Go figure. Sometimes you don't really know your kids after all.

Who cares what they wear?

My grandson, Justin, turned 8 last week so he got to choose the restaurant. A sports bar, natch.

His older brother refused to go with us when he saw his outfit. But hey, 8-yr-old boys don't care what they wear. At least this one doesn't. He was busy journaling.

When I think of what it took to dress my girls, this is a piece a cake.

One thing leads to another....

So my daughter who got laid off on Sunday had clients for her new business on Monday. Which goes to show that sometimes the best opportunities come from those instances that seem the worst. This appears to be one of those cases. Within three days, she has marketing material, a blog, a Facebook page for her company and more clients calling than she can handle. Oh yeah, she's also on Twitter.

And the best part? She really GETS MARKETING! I'm one proud boomer mom!