A full nest once more

No, my daughters haven't moved home. And, no, my grandsons aren't visiting.

Still, the nest is full. Literally. The nest right outside my window, the one nearest my desk, where I spend much of my day.

Mourning doves usually inhabit the nest each season. Which doesn't always turn out so well. A couple weeks ago, though, this is what I noticed:  

A robin, settled in and protecting what I assumed were eggs.

I've checked in on her now and again, passed her on my way to get the morning newspaper, warned visitors to not disturb the head-height branch when walking by.

Mama Robin has always been protective of her home and what it held, but I could never see anything within it, even when I climbed atop a stool to better peer out my window and into her nest.

Until yesterday. I saw activity, grabbed my camera, and throughout the day captured the following.

 

Maybe not a big deal to some, but after a particularly long run of crappy days and crappy news, the full and thriving nest—and the fact it was right outside my window—was significant to me, brought tears to my eyes.

The momentum has shifted.

Today's question:

How has nature recently brightened your outlook—or at least your day?

Flowers and dogs

I originally planned a rant-filled post for today to talk about my terrifying experience walking my dogs on Tuesday, the day a stray dog—yes, a pit bull, but let's not go there as my Mickey is part pit bull—attacked Mickey, Lyla, and myself as we headed home. Mickey took the brunt of it...no, all of it. I was going to show you pictures like this (graphic and hard to look at) one of my poor Mickey when he returned from the vet after the attack: 

And I was going to climb atop my soap box to <cuss> and complain about irresponsible dog owners who don't keep their dogs restrained as they should, tagged as they should in case they do escape, and cared for as they should. I planned to note that not doing such things is especially irresponsible for pit bull owners—who, if they're going to have pit bulls, should do right by them and the public!—and when a dog is obviously a nursing mother with babies somewhere. I was going to complain about the injuries to my dog, the injuries to my pocketbook because no owner has been found to reimburse me for vet bills, and the injuries to the abandoned puppies and the nursing/attacking mother who is now held at the Humane Society until May 21 and will be euthanized if not claimed by her owner before then. I've called; she's not been claimed. Despite what she did to Mickey, that breaks my heart.

But...

Instead of telling you all that, I've chosen to focus on something more positive today since I can't do diddly about what happened to Mickey. My more positive focus? Flowers.

Below is a slideshow of flower photos I've taken over the past month. Some are from Megan's place in the desert, some are from my place in the mountains, many are of the blooming beauties Jim and the girls gave me for Mother's Day.

Enjoy!

As the slideshow feature tends to cut off parts of the photos to fit the box, feel free to view the full photos HERE.

(PS: Mickey is doing a bit better. The vet promised a difficult time for the next 10-14 days and so far he's been right—but it's getting easier and less painful...for all of us.)

Today's question:

Flowers and dogs? Thoughts on either?

Never too old to learn: 11 lessons Gramma wants to take

I've been a huge fan of this season's The Voice, which ends tonight (go, Juliet!). Since the very first episode, the coaches—Blake Shelton, Christina Aguilera, CeeLo Green and Adam Levine—have regularly commented about singers being "pitchy."

Well, I don't really know for certain what pitchy means, but I'm pretty sure I'm exactly that (and probably worse) when I sing. Years of chronic laryngitis and resorting to whistling have left my singing ability with much to be desired.

As I sang at church Sunday—from my pew, not in the choir!—I thought about my probable pitchiness. And how much I'd like to take voice lessons to overcome that. Not because I want to audition for The Voice, but because I like to sing and want to be better at it than I am.

Which then made me think about all the other things I like to do but would like to be better at. Which led to the following list.

11 lessons I want to take

1. The above-referenced voice lessons. Not for opera or classical or anything grand in any way. Just regular ol' singing lessons that teach me how to use my voice effectively and appropriately. And how to not be pitchy.

2. Photography lessons. Using my DSLR camera. To make the most of my DSLR camera.

3. Photoshop lessons. To make the most of my photos after I've done the most I can while taking them. And to remove wrinkles and pounds and crooked teeth and gray hair from all the photos that someone else might take of me. (Just kidding. Sort of.)

4. Tap dancing lessons. Like these.

5. Other dancing lessons. Ones where Jim and I could swoosh across the floor with the greatest of ease. (Okay, okay. We tried this before, and I couldn't help but lead. Which screwed us all up. Maybe I need to take a few control-issue lessons beforehand.)

6. Swimming lessons. Again. Because I've not gone swimming in a while and am now scared again to go in the deep end, because the previous three times I took lessons apparently didn't stick.

7. Knitting lessons. Grandmas are supposed to knit, aren't they? I don't. And would like to.

8. Bird identification lessons. How cool would it be to see or hear a bird, instantly know which bird it is, and be able to rattle off cool facts about the little guys? Pretty cool, in my opinion.

9. Spice-specific culinary lessons. I'm a pretty good cook but I'm not pretty good at knowing which spices to use and which ones to combine for the most awesome of dishes...unless a recipe tells me. I want to know off the top of my head and be able to concoct menus that are magically delicious.

10. Piano lessons. Again. A financial crunch led to me needing to quit taking lessons. A time crunch led to me not practicing regularly. Now I need to start all over, for the most part. <klunk, klunk> (That's me banging my head—not the piano keys—for not keeping up with practicing on my own.)

11. Personal essay writing lessons. I'd like one-on-one classes with a pro on writing personal essays. Someone like Anne Lamott. Or David Sedaris. Or Connie Schultz. Sure, I dabble in a little of that by blogging, but I want to be awesome. And (maybe?) critiqued by those who make a living doing it so I can improve and eventually make a living doing it, too.

photo: MS Office clipart

Today's fill-in-the-blank?

I'd like to take lessons in ________________.

Wherein I pat myself on the back and reveal a secret

I've posted pictures and praise a time or two here on Grandma's Briefs about the accomplishments of my daughters when it comes to races and running. I'm proud of them and their pursuits, and I sincerely wish I could do the same.

On Saturday I came close to exactly that, in a relative sort of way, and I'm pretty darn proud of myself. Hence the "pat myself on the back" part of the title. In order for that pat to make sense to most readers, though, I must first share a secret. Well, it's not really a secret, as I've not hidden it from anyone, I just don't blatantly address it. Most offline friends—and a few online ones—know of my so-called secret. Now you all will.

The secret is this: I have MS. Multiple sclerosis. This coming Sunday—Mother's Day, May 13—marks twenty years since I was diagnosed. I do quite well with it, far better than many, as I was fortunate to end up with the relapsing-remitting form, not the progressive form. In fact, it's been a blessing in my life, to a certain degree, thanks to various things I've learned, changed, accepted because of it.

My MS does not define me, and it's really not important that you know I have it—except when it comes to understanding today's back-patting post.

You see, on Saturday morning I participated in the National MS Society's annual Walk MS event, along with Brianna and Andrea—and Jim, who served as moral support and photographer. I had walked it in 2008 to, in my opinion, rather disastrous results. I finished the walk—finding it far more challenging reaching the finish line than expected, thanks to a dragging foot—but I could not make it to the car afterward. Brianna had to bring the car to me.

Ever since, I've been afraid to attempt the Walk MS event again. Until this year.

In early March, I believe it was, I saw the commercial on TV and immediately texted Brianna and Andrea to ask if they'd join me. They enthusiastically said "yes," and we were off and running. Or, walking. On Saturday.

Saturday's walk featured a one-mile course that continued on for a three-mile course for those who felt up to it. In 2008, the one-mile kicked my butt. This year, I was able to do the entire three-mile course and still managed to walk back to the car, which was nearly another freakin' mile, it seemed, thanks to the thousand or so participants.

Yay for Lisa! Pat, pat, pat on my very own back! I felt like following Baby Mac's lead and babbling, "I did it! I did it!"

Here are highlights:

Not only did I prove I could do it, I thoroughly enjoyed the morning with my daughters as they matched my pace to a military style march much like the one I do when walking my dogs (repeated in my head, not aloud...for the most part). Let me assure you, it's much more fun marching with my girls.

It was a good day.

I just had to share.

Thank you for indulging me.

<pat> <pat> <pat>

Today's question:

What accomplishments have you recently patted yourself on the back for? (And I do hope you have given yourself a pat, no matter how big or small the accomplishment.)

The Saturday Post: Mama Then & Now edition

The International Museum of Women recently launched Mama Then and Now, the latest gallery in the moving and thought-provoking online exhibition called MAMA: Motherhood Around the Globe.

MAMA: Motherhood Around the Globe explores the lives, visions and voices of mothers from more than 60 countries. Personal stories are shared through original creative works including film, music, art and more.

One of the highlights of Mama Then and Now is the following video in which women from around the world reflect on their personal motherhood experience and the generational differences between the grandmothers, mothers, and daughters of their families.

MAMA: Motherhood Around the Globe also offers in-depth looks at Heroes: International Council of 13 Indigenous Grandmothers, Activist Grandmothers, tongue-in-cheek, Facebook-inspired embroideries in a feature called Friend Me , and much, much more.

Take a look MAMA...then share it with the other mamas in your life.

Today's question:

How is your mothering and grandmothering experience different from your mother's and grandmother's?

Missing the ordinary everydayness

Now that my kids are long grown and long gone, I occasionally miss the little things about having kids in our midst. Like watching them fully engaged in and enjoying ordinary, everyday activities. No posing or posturing, just playing.

Fortunately I have Megan to text me photos of ordinary everyday moments that, to a grandmother, are not that ordinary at all anymore and are truly something special to see.

To wit, scenes from a recent playdate—an afternoon hosted by Bubby and Baby Mac, featuring a car wash, snack time, and play pals:

So cool to see Baby Mac hanging with the big kids. And Bubby, too, obviously relishing his role as king of festivities.

Today's question:

What ordinary everydayness do you miss from your childrearing years?

Nine in five

Nine things I've learned in the last five days:

1. I will never again use Kool-Aid to color Easter eggs. The colors aren't vibrant, purple turns brown, green is impossible (even if you mix yellow and blue), and the color doesn't stay on the eggs very well at all.

2. Woodpeckers will from now on be called Woodeffers by me because they do nothing but eff up the wood on the side of my house. And they chuckle from the trees when I chase them off, only to return to their previous effing pecking spot the instant I go inside.

3. Traditions started in childhood continue to matter—as much to my daughters as to me.

4. Photos sent via text messaging are the next best thing to Skype which is the next best thing to being there.

(Though it would have been nice to be there to hug Baby Mac, who looks a wee bit scared of—or, more likely, annoyed by—Mr. Bunny.)

5. Popping Vitamin E pills really does help with cracked heels. Literally popping the pills, that is, and rubbing the oil into your heels.

6. I can't get enough Bones. The series. We may be late comers to the series, but thanks to instant streaming on Netflix, Jim and I are well into the fourth season and never at a loss for what to watch on TV despite having canceled cable several months ago. (And we will surely be just as sad to end the marathon viewing sessions as we were when we finished Lost. And Firefly. And Lie to Me. And Friday Night Lights. And Sons of Anarchy.)

7. Jim is dead serious about preferring chocolate desserts over any other kind. Even ones that look—and taste!—as delicious as the Mini Cheesecakes I made for Easter dinner.  

8. I'm no longer compelled to stay awake until my children come home after a night out, proven by my being sound asleep when our Easter weekend houseguest, Andrea, went out with friends Saturday night and got home well after the bars had closed.

9. Despite huge changes to the dynamics and logistics over the past several years, the best part of each and every holiday has remained the same: time with my favorite people, my family—all except the desert dwellers, of course.

(Even when they're dorks like Brianna and Andie and unwittingly wear the very same outfit on the same day.)

Today's question:

What have you recently learned?