Birthday Boy

Happy 15th birthday to our eldest grandson, Garrett. I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday. We paced the halls and worried the hospital staff with endless questions. It seemed like you’d never arrive, and once you did, our lives were forever changed.

You’ve enriched our family in so many ways that I’ve lost count, and you’re the only kid I know who can consistently spell better than I can. Love you more today than the day before.

I can’t wait to see what your future holds.

You Might Be Studly Doright If….

Studly Doright (aka David Noyes) seemed to enjoy his birthday celebration on Thursday. After an outstanding Thanksgiving feast orchestrated by his mother and sisters, we settled in to fete Studly as he prepares to enter his sixth decade on earth.

First our son, Jason, emceed a game show pitting our five grandchildren against Studly’s four siblings in a quest to see which group knew more about Studly. I’m not sure which team emerged as the winner, but we all got a kick out of the questions and accompanying vintage family photos that served as clues.

(Above, our two oldest grandkids, Garrett and Dominique, discuss their team’s answer.)

Our daughter, Ashley, led us in an activity called, “You might be David Noyes,” in which participants had an opportunity to share humorous recollections about the guest of honor in a format similar to Jeff Foxworthy’s “You might be a redneck.”

The contributed memories had everyone in stitches. I can’t remember many of them; I was laughing too hard. One I shared was, “If you ever tried to claim gravy is a liquid to justify eating it while prepping for a colonoscopy, you might be David Noyes.”

The grandkids got a kick out of these revelations about their Poppa.

(Above, our youngest grandchild, Harper, listens as her Poppa explains one of the many shared stories. She might have been angling for a piece of the birthday cake, as well.)

Afterwards, Studly read cards from family and friends. He got a little emotional at times, declaring this was his best birthday ever.

Thanks to everyone who made it so special.

Peace, people.

Just Say Ok

Just Say Ok!

While Studly Doright and I were relaxing on Amelia Island this past weekend I had the following text conversation with our daughter:

“Ok.” and “Yep.” were my contributions, and my reward was seeing my daughter’s reaction. So now I’m planning a quick trip to Chicago on the 27th of October.

I’m beyond excited about seeing Les Misérables at the Cadillac Theater, but that’s just icing on the cake. The real treat will be getting to see Les Mis with my daughter on her birthday and our middle grandchild. I’m so glad I typed “Ok.”

Peace, people!

Birthday Debriefing

As my faithful followers know, yesterday I celebrated my 61st birthday. It was a good day, but it got off to a rocky start. Rather than go into the painful details, I’ll just give you the bullet points.

  1. Due to the possibility of a hurricane hitting our area we cancelled plans for a weekend visit to Amelia Island.
  2. We’ll still have to pay for half the price of the room we cancelled because the hurricane didn’t enter into the picture until past the cancellation deadline. Thanks booking.com. Grrrr.
  3. My favorite convenience store was out of diet Dr. Pepper, so I had to do without my must have caffeinated beverage. To coffee drinkers, that would be like starting your day without coffee.
  4. Whole Foods couldn’t make me an iced chai latte because their chai delivery was late.
  5. The damned hurricane changed direction. I don’t want it to impact anyone, but since we cancelled our reservation and still have to pay for one night, how dare it not hit here?
  6. I had lunch at a table by myself while watching various groups of women engaged in pleasant social discourse. Dammit! It was my birthday.
  7. All became right with the world when I enjoyed a spa treatment at Aveda.
  8. Studly Doright lost his golf match, but played well.
  9. I received tons of birthday greetings.
  10. I don’t know how to make the bullets stop.
  11. Please help.
  12. Guess I’ll just say, Thank You for Reading. If you made it this far, you might need to get a life.
  13. Peace, people.

The big kid is me way back in the day. The cute kiddo is my adorable cousin on her first birthday. The man is my beloved Grandaddy.

Shipping Label Humor

Today, October 5, 2017, is my 61st birthday. Yay me! According to my youngest grandchild who is five, I am an old lady. Funny, I don’t feel old. In fact, I feel fairly wonderful.

Yesterday I received a beautiful basket of gourmet delicacies from my son and daughter-in-law. I mean this is the mother of all baskets:

Apples, pears, cheeses and crackers, cookies, and a bottle of wine. It’s gorgeous and I’m going to try to be a good girl and share with Studly Doright.

One of the best things about the basket, though, was the label on the box it arrived in. I laughed for ten minutes:

“Do not deliver to an intoxicated person,” it says. I told the FedEx lady it was a darned good thing she’d come before 5 p.m.

Happy birthday to me!

On Being Nana

I wasn’t always Nana. Once upon a time I was plain old Leslie, occasionally “honey” or whatever endearment

Came immediately to Studly’s tongue. But by far, Nana is the best name I’ve ever been given. Fifteen years ago this week,

Nana was born when a beautiful, round faced baby girl was placed in my arms. Her wide blue eyes connected with my own

Amazed brown ones, and I have been forever changed. I might have once been ordinary, but now I am Nana.

Happy 15th birthday to our eldest grandchild, Dominique Grace. I meant to post this on Wednesday, but never changed the post from “draft” to “scheduled.”

Studly’s New Toy

Studly Doright thought I should share photos of his new toy. It’s a ’72 model 350 Yamaha R5, a two cylinder, two stroke. He bought it for himself and then told me it was his birthday present from me. That’s how you cut out the middle man. Or middle woman, in this case.


It needs a bit of TLC, so I’ll be supervising the work. I do have a stake in the thing, after all.

Peace, people.

Twenty-four Hours

Days aren’t as long as they used to be. Back when our two children were feisty toddlers and my 

Husband worked revolving shifts, twenty-four hours lasted twenty-four years and nobody

Cared that I was drowning in every single second. Nurturing was a foreign concept peddled

By well-meaning matrons and judgemental church ladies. What in hell was wrong with me 

That I didn’t gush over every milestone, each budding tooth, too exhausted to care that my babies 

Wouldn’t be babies forever and that someday twenty-four hours would feel like twenty-four 

Minutes, and a year reduced to a week and my babies grown and out on their own. Too soon.

My daughter celebrates her 36th birthday today. Even though I love her fiercely I wasn’t a patient mommy. The days of her infancy passed as slowly as liquid concrete, and I wish with all my heart we could have a do-over. 

But she’s grown into an amazing, beautiful woman, and I’m so very proud of my Ashley. I love her, like her, care about her. Every day.

Peace, people.