December 21, 2014

This handsome guy was at my feeder and now he is on my desktop. He thinks he sees something behind the mirrored window, or maybe he hears something but either way he was looking for me.

I have a couple of things on my list from last time that I didn’t have a chance to write about, so I want to start this time with those things.

Guess what I saw as Mike and I were driving down the highway a week or two ago? I wasn’t even sure what it was at first and as we got closer I could see it was an eagle on the branch of a tree. Aren’t they just about the most majestic bird you’ve ever seen?

I don’t see eagles enough to get over the awe of it whenever I see one in the wild. Although we do have eagles that live around here year round, I hardly ever see one. This time of year we get an influx of eagles as the northerners come down to spend the winter with us and that makes it much more likely that I’ll see and photograph one. After all, I know where they hang out.

“Where’s that?” you ask.

The eagles tend to congregate at the dam as it has proven to be a source of lots of free and easy food for these beautiful birds of prey.

“How’s that?” you wonder.

Ameren, the power company, generates electricity by opening the gates, allowing water to come in and turn the turbines. Unfortunately some fish come in with the water and when they come out the other side, they are all sliced and diced; served up fresh and ready for the eating. You just have to wait and watch for the tasty little morsels to come floating to the surface. And because the river level could change drastically and quickly, Ameren sounds an alarm to let fishermen know the gates are going to be opened. The eagles have come to recognize this alarm as a call to dinner. At least that’s how it has been in the past. I don’t know how it is any more with all the new EPA standards. I know that if too many fish come through the turbines the EPA could fine the electric company.

“It’s an eagle! Look! Mike! An eagle!” I exclaimed pointing. But I’m not sure Mike spotted him as we were speeding down the highway at 70 miles an hour. Then I realized I hadn’t even tried to take his picture. “Doggone it! And here I sit with my camera still in my lap!”

We continued on our way, ran our errand and headed back the way we had come. “I wonder if that eagle is still sitting there?” I mused out loud. But not wanting to have my hopes dashed on the rocks of disappointment, I dared not hope. Instead I got to be excited when I saw he was still sitting there and that is how I got a second chance to take his photo.

 

Andrew turned two on Wednesday and we hosted a small get-together. Besides Andrew and his mom and dad, our friend Margaret was the only other guest. I cleaned my house and made a rich, dark-chocolate cake with sweet and creamy Betty Crocker Butter Cream frosting on the afternoon of the party. Then I went to the store. I needed candles and I thought I would pick up some candy decorations like I used to put on my kid’s cakes when they were growing up.

The store I went to didn’t have them so I settled for dinosaur candles.

So much for last minute thoughts.

 

I made Andrew’s birthday card with my Cricut machine. It’s cut from sticky vinyl and put together in layers. Each color is a different layer. It was my first attempt at a card and I’m sure my second attempt would be better but as it was this took three hours of my time and lots of love.

 

Which reminds me. I thought I might like to make Andrew an ABC Book out of vinyl. But after I saw what it took to make this card, I couldn’t image what it would take to make 26 pages plus a front and back cover. I still might do that but in the mean time, I cut stickers and put them on my lower kitchen cabinets. Andrew height, don’t you know. This is all the further I got on that project.

 

Guess who got to watch that little star of her show? If you said, “You,” you would be right!

But before I tell you about that, I want to tell you how it came to be.

Kevin and Kandyce had movie tickets they needed to use before they expired and about the only time they could go was Sunday afternoon. They talked about it while they were here on Wednesday. I heard them.

I write on Sunday’s...

But I love to watch Andrew!

“I’ll watch Andrew for you,” Me heard myself say.

Phones came out, movies and times were checked on internet browsers and plans were made.

Therein lied (laid) the conundrum. I didn’t know how I was going to write and watch Andrew. Yeah. That isn’t going to happen. I’m pretty sure I can either write OR watch Andrew, but not both at the same time. I’d work that out later though. And thankfully, I did. I found a few hours between Wednesday and Sunday and had gotten a really good start on my letter. I finished writing early Sunday-earlier than I normally do-and even managed to get it posted while Andrew napped. Although, in my haste to get the job done, I wasn’t careful and I missed posting one of the photos. Not much of a big deal except it would have made the way I wrote it make more sense.

But having my letter written freed me up to enjoy Andrew.

It was pretty nice outside and Andrew wanted to walk the dogs. Not wanting Andrew to think of playing in the sink with tea cups and water, I thought a walk was exactly the right kind of diversion. We harnessed the dogs and put on our jackets and out we went. Andrew likes to hold the dog’s leash and as you can tell, Itsy wasn’t crazy about the whole Andrew thing.

Andrew, on the other hand, was having a great time!

 

Itsy doesn’t walk very long before she wants to be carried. She’ll put her brakes on and then it’s either drag her or carry her. I usually carry her. In this case I had to switch leashes with Andrew and let him walk Ginger while I carried Itsy. Andrew didn’t care which leash he held as long as he got to hold one. He wanted both leashes at first, but I told him no, he could only have one, and he didn’t fuss about it. Sometimes I can fake him out and carry Itsy while he holds the leash, but he’s caught on to that little trick and doesn’t let me get away with it anymore.

Ginger is kind of funny. She’ll walk for anyone until she sees it’s not me on the other end of her leash. Luckily she usually walks ahead of me, so as long as she didn’t turn around-and Andrew didn’t whip the leash-she wouldn’t know. Then I’d have to take the leash back for a while and when she isn’t looking, give it back to Andrew.

Halfway to the iconic Indian, Andrew reached his little arms up for me to carry him. I picked him up and plopped him on my hip, but with his bulky winter jacket on, me carrying Itsy, holding Ginger’s leash AND my camera, it was awkward. I had to put him down.

“Let’s just go to the Indian then we’ll go home,” I told Andrew and he walked some more.

We made it to the Indian, took a few photos and were headed for home when Andrew asked me to carry him again.

 

I know! Inspiration struck. Being a farmer’s daughter, and sister to seven brothers-I know how to carry things that are heavy or just plain awkward to carry. Put them on your shoulder!

I got this, I thought to myself and put Andrew on my shoulders. And now to pick Itsy up. I really didn’t think it would be a big deal.

Yeah, famous last words, right? Or in this case, thoughts.

Itsy wears a harness. It goes around her front legs and puts no pressure on her neck, not even if I pick her up with the leash. Which is what I do most of the time so I don’t have to bend over and pick her up. It freaks people out though, when they see me pick her up that way, so if there are people around, I usually bend over and pick her up. But Itsy is used to being picked up this way and with Andrew on my shoulders I knew I couldn’t bend over and pick her up.

So there I am with Andrew on my shoulders, camera around my neck, Ginger on the end of a leash and Itsy won’t walk. I have to pick her up. I pulled her up and just as I reached for her, Andrew started to wobble. It only took me a split second to make a decision.

One I didn’t even have to think about.

I dropped Itsy and grabbed for Andrew’s little foot. Then I juggled everybody around and got situated and had the long walk home to think about it.

“Peggy! All’s well that ends well.” Isn’t that what they say?

Here’s the thing though. Once I had a chance to think about it, I scared myself. I could have hurt Andrew. Accidentally, but he could have been hurt badly falling from the height of my shoulders onto a concrete sidewalk.

The more I thought about it, the more horrified I became! How could I even take a chance with this precious little life that was entrusted to me! I never knowingly would!

“We know Andrew’s okay, but how’s Itsy?” you wonder.

She’s fine. I dropped her from about three feet and she didn’t even cry. Small comfort, but comfort none-the-less.

Embarrassment. That’s what I felt next. Andrew won’t tell. If I don’t tell, no-one will ever know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“I almost dropped Andrew,” I confessed to Mike.

“Well don’t tell the kids. They’ll never let you watch Andrew again,” Mike said.

The kids come back from the movie and walked in as Andrew and I sat in front of my computer...

Oh! I have to tell you this...

I have an extra mouse that doesn’t work right anymore. So what I do is sit Andrew in my lap in front of my computer and I let him click on his mouse while I shuffle through photo’s or move cards around with my mouse. He thinks he’s doing it and for now, it makes him happy. One of these days he’ll catch on and I’ll have to think of something else.

Isn’t it just amazing how the kids these days pick up on computers so fast! They’re little sponges, aren’t they? I’ve seen babies who can name every president by their photo, read words on flash cards or name every player on a ball team. I think that was on America’s Funniest Video’s years ago. And they say babies can pick up languages really quickly too. Even before a baby can talk they can do sign language. Sign for milk and stuff like that. And what’s a computer but another language.

I have seen Andrew reach up and touch my computer in much the same manner he does when he pets our animals. With a caress. And caress means gentle touch. You can tell he’s caressing the keyboard, feeling the smooth surface. And when his little fingers finally reach the keys, he feels the difference and moves his fingers like he’s typing. Gently, like it’s delicate, not pounding like the clerks at the check-out do.

Amazing, I tell you. Just amazing.

Something that has been on my mind lately is something that maybe youse can answer for me.

“What’s that?” you ask.

Are all babies as amazing as my grandson?

“Weren’t your kids that amazing?” someone I love asked of me when I was gushing about Andrew.

“I don’t remember,” was my honest answer. “But I suppose they were.”

And Andrew is not our only grandchild. He is just the only grandchild I’ve ever lived close enough to to be able to see.

I’ve missed out, haven’t I. I’ve really missed out. And I feel sorry for me. Sigh.

But. Anyway. I can’t change what has been, anymore than you can.

So. Back to my story.

The kids come back from the movie and walked in as Andrew and I sat in front of my computer. After we chatted for a while, I unloaded my guilt. “I almost dropped Andrew,” I told Kandyce.

“Oh yeah?” was what she said and dismissed it. She didn’t say, “You can’t ever watch Andrew again!” Or anything like that.

Kandyce isn’t easily flustered.

Kandyce is a down to earth kind of gal, not given to hysterics.

I love her. And I feel so much better!

Confession is cathartic, isn’t it. That’s what I realized as I told Mike, my life partner and Kandyce, the mother of my most amazing grandson. I felt better after each telling. By those rules, I would feel even better if I told it again! Wouldn’t I?

I call my mother every night. You know that. Well, most nights anyway, more nights than not. So when I called her that night, I told her. She laughed. “Almost doesn’t count.”

And there is another woman that I love.

There is only one other bit of news I have for you.

I think a short, 150-word article that I wrote will be published in our local free newspaper next week.

It is about this new business coming to the Strip and how this man, George Tucker wants to see the whole Strip prosper and thrive.

 

I’ve been trying for a few months now to get paid to write stories for our local paper, but she-the editor-thought my stories were too cutesy and fun. She wanted to see something more serious. And I think that is where I goofed up. Instead of sending her something more serious, I suggested she come to lunch at Luby’s, I’d get Mike Luby to pay and she could meet me. I thought I’d pitch my idea of doing a column about the Strip and she would love me and hand me money.

Naïve. I know.

Instead she hated me. She must have because she didn’t respond to my emails begging for a response.

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Mike told me. Mike used to be involved in city politics and this now editor was a reporter at that time. “I’m telling ya, she hates me.”

But why would anyone cut their nose off to spite their face?

I always presume innocence. It’s part of who I am and I have another story on that for you some other time-Remind me.-but after waiting for two weeks and not getting any kind of reply, I began to wonder. So I sent it to another newspaper. That night, I got a reply. “Thanks. I’ll get it in either the 24^th or the 31^st.”

What do you think about that?

Lots and lots of love,

Peg and Mike