Saturday, April 23, 2011

Morning and Evening I Ponder My Destination

The forest pathway bends around the trees.
Hiding, but calling me to walk its way,
Turn a corner and meandering I see,
That it goes on and on to take all day.

My hands touch grass, leaves, rough bark and old wood.
Soft breeze shake heart-shaped Aspen leaves and boughs,
Picture perfect clouds, trees, and there I stood,
A portion of Heaven drawn before allows,
My awe of God's Hand only a glimpse could.

Really, every morning and night, my eyes open and close to an old picture that hangs next to my bed. It's my place that helps me know that no matter what my path may lead, it doesn't ever end and if I'm worthy, my path will always be beautiful.

I think of my prayers, my gratefulness (another day and another night, here) my faith, my chance to stenghten myself, repent, purify myself though consecration and charity. And truly endure to the end. I'm so blessed.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Palms Up

There's this really fancy palm tree in Santa Barbara and next to a lovely house on Del La Vida Street. Steve and I were puzzled after taking numerous pictures and we finally determined after our "great knowledge in botany" that it belonged to the Palmae Family. It may just be morphed, I don't know, but I'm asking. What is this tree? I can't find it online or in my garden books. It wasn't my idea to take pictures. Steve saw it and told me that there was this freaky tree with a big pole coming right out-of-it. He wanted me to bring the camera the next time we visited my mother when she was up in Santa Barbara Hospital. He really wanted to climb out of the car and take pictures. Steve did it and now his enthusiasm has rubbed-off on me. Mystery tree!

The two distinguishing palm characteristics is that the "fronds" start from a long pole that shoots-up from the tree and the leaves open from the frond. The pole is so straight it looks like a flag pole. The other characteristic is that the bark, is a palm tree. Now, which palm tree is this tree?
It is an evergreen because we first noticed this strange tree the first part of February. It has lots of small leaves that open out from the tall pole. We did see one other just like it. Well, it was just me. I saw one just before the Kimball off-ramp in Ventura. Honestly, we go the freeway and not the back-roads just looking for this tree. Steve and I don't want to own one, we just want to know what this palm tree is exactly... and where's it from?
I love palm Trees. I love the trees on my son's street near the beach. I love the beautiful silhouettes against the ocean's view anytime of the day. Fillmore, our neighboring city, has always had beautiful palms lining their main street, called Central Avenue. Then, for some reason there were pines trees that lined downtown main thoroughfare called Central. Weird, but the pines were removed again and the palms returned. The Northridge Earthquake almost took-out Fillmore and lots and lots of the palms downtown had to be replaced, so they were changed again with a bunch of generic trees. Southern California is the perfect spot for palm trees. A trip south and west to Bardsdale is also lined with beautiful and very tall palms. They are different than the ones near the high school and I always thought those were date trees.
 I remember that as little kids we used to throw rocks up in the trees to see if any dates would fall down. Bad come down. We were at the bottom of the trees and because the trees were planted near Central Avenue, rocks went in the street. I promise, I never hit a car, but I think a rock hit me on the shoulder. That activity should be labeled under "really dumb childhood ideas." If there was an "East Wind Day" my trip home from elementary school, was the long way .... and always included a trip to see if any of the dates had fallen off the tree. Just for those who wonder about how they taste, I remember that I never quit tasting them, either they were yummy, or I was just waiting for them to be ripe. A little like biting into a green plum. Take a bit and throw it on the ground. I never quit trying. I think I ate olives from the olive trees around Fillmore and Santa Paula. Oh yes, they are nasty.
Picture by Alissa Allred Thompson Bardsdale, Fillmore, California
Bardsdale, Fillmore, California
 The Bardsdale palms are those kind of palms that one thinks of, when you ponder Hawaii. Tall, with a pom-pom on top. Every single time we drive there, I want to pull over and pick a little one, they grow all by themselves like acorns grow Oak Trees, here. Actually, I don't need to do that because birds in our neighborhood drop the palm seeds and they spout all over our property. Always, and I can't emphasize this enough, the palms are pulled-out and destroyed. Reason: Rats love them and nest in the trees. Perfect place for rats. The trees for them are high off the ground and away from pest control, owls, cats, and every single predator except maybe another rat that eats babies. Yes, they eat their own. The other pest is "rat-bird" pigeons. Where do you think they nest? Has anyone ever seen a baby pigeon in the wild? There's this somewhat new deterrent to keep, at least, the rats from using the trees at rat habitats. There's this project going on with flaps of metal that go around the middle of the trees. They look like chrome, but it has to be a shiny metal that never corrodes, so the rats don't eventually scratch their way up to the top of the palms.
My Son's Family View of his trees in the Ventura Harbor
Now that I've written all this in my blog, I want a palm tree. I asked Steve and he said, "What about the stinkin'-mite-infested and parasite-ridden pigeons and rats that live in them?"  I said, "Steve?" "Can I have a monkey?"
Photo from Nation Geographic Magazine
And, what is this tree? All yellow and beautiful, but not so long-lasting.
I think there should be a book about all the interesting trees, imported and natural in Santa Paula and Fillmore. I would  love to learn all about them.

Just to make this even more fun. What is this cactus? It was wild at Matililja Canyon Dam.

Friday, April 15, 2011

The Wellman Brothers, Brad and Scott--So Handsome, Fun, and Best Friends

These two brothers are my younger brothers and they have always been best friends. Brad and Scott have always been blessed with the ability to be great friends with even those whom the just met. I've been told, "You're brothers don't know a stranger." Both of my brothers are outgoing and sociable and they have everything in common with you, and if they don't, they're great listeners. Yes, they are my baby brothers.

Scott and Brad Wellman
 My brother Brad has worked all over the world and the stories he can tell! And every single story is true. Honestly, I have enough material to make major movies. I started to write it all down. Thankfully, I saved all the adventures that his wife, Edie, had written to me about Africa. Brad worked the west coast of Africa and actually had an encounter with a silver-backed daddy gorilla, fished with Crocodiles, and listened to the big bugs hit the metal roof that lulled him to sleep each night. One of the funniest stories was in the late 1980's and his was living way out in the Tarzan-like jungle of Gabon. He was working on contract for Shell Oil and all the incidents and seemly small observations can entertain any of us for days. Brad can even describe his conversation with this really big, really big, hinged beetle. He said, "This big ol' beetle-bug came up to my boots and this huge ugly bug had a full-on conversation with me." "When he was though talking to me, he just did this ten-point turn with his body facing toward his home, and wiggled this way, and that way" Showing us with his hands. I love that story. He's been all over Europe, The Middle East,  his adventure ... seeing the Great Pyramids...Oh, so funny! Asia, and a whole bunch of China.

Scott is a mountain man living up in the high San Joaquin Mountains with his family. He lives the life of hunting, giggin' frogs, and raising his family off the land and doing trucking as his living. He's also a bow-hunter after those big California-type Razorbacks hogs. He skins animals and does a lot of rattlesnake fighting. Scott is always working and fixing things up on his ranch.

These brothers used to surf together and surfed when they were so little, just 2 and 3 years old. They would go out with my dad at the "Cove" or "Mondos" and my dad would hold one and push the other on the board. Dad would fetch the one riding and send the next kid out on the board. I don't think they ever fell off a board until they were a whole lot older. Those big boards just stayed on top of the water. Of course, they moved on to the "hot-dog" surfing and we have lots of pictures. Mom says that she went out with them also, but was so scared the whole time. She doesn't know how to swim. She ended-up spending every single free day taking all the boys to the beach,  even during rain and storms. Real surfers like the storms. There were the Tanks, The Overhead, County Line, The Piers, Mary's, Carp, Ventura Pier by the Fairgrounds, and  The Ranch. I know there are others. Amazing pair of surfers and I think they still love it.

But now...their new love is mining. They love mining gold and who doesn't think of that? I know that it's not the "strike-it-rich" that's their mission or intent, it's the beauty of the mineral, the golden glitter. It is lovely and admiring a small tube of flakes of real gold is hard to comprehend...hahahah apprehend, too. Don't you love spell-check?
Did I say, Brad and Scott love to surf fish?
Lately, they have been prospecting the Opel mines. Oh, and do I love that? It's my birthstone and I've had one from Australia and it was mesmerizing. Their black Opels with the fire inside the stone, just spins-my-head. The fire inside changes and moves and is so unreal. I am in awe of the beauty and astonished at the way these precious stones need to be preserved even when they are mined and weaned-off the mud and water that has preserved, cocooned, and developed these beautiful stones over thousands of years.

Brad and Scott are tenderhearted and love unconditionally with patience, I envy. They're great examples to me. The tears flow easily when they are touched in their heart. My brothers are also great dads and fantastic grandfathers and lucky the grandchildren to have them. They honor the name of Wellman and I'm proud to have them as my dear little brothers.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

I Am Through! Dove-Tailing and Rats! What about it?

Look At All Those Dove Tails. Not Me!

 My whole nature, not nature, nature.... but personality, has this unusual flaw that everyone else seems to possess and I don't have it. It's called "dove-tailing" and the more a person develops this talent, the more a person seems to accomplish in a day or evening. I can not do this. CAN'T! No matter how hard I try, it always ends in disaster. I have to go with a project, complete it, and move to the next priority or whatever is on my "do list" for the day. One job or thing at a time. I'm easily a very side-tracked person and that's what gets me in trouble.

Have I Ever Been On The Right Track?
Nope! Not Me!
It doesn't matter how many times I try, I can't do more tasks at any one time. Was it that I was so scattered in my head, that in my young life, I taught myself to actually survive on the method? Simply an honest answer would be yes.... and I suppose it should be in the largest text size, and be bold, and underlined, with an exclamation mark.


I can't do the multi-task or multi-track. It turns into a wreak. I could actually die, you know... or hurt myself a little or a lot. My mind is geared to learn, to work, to dream in only one path and that's it!

Today, like many other completely crazy days that I think I can handle with trying to do more than one task at a time, I blow it. I wreak!. I don't follow my own rules.

I was in a hurry today to go help my mother. There's lots of preparation that goes along with getting ready and carrying all the stuff I need for the day. Notebook, computer, IPad thingy, my phone, food, stuff like that plus all my creature chores and household duties. I actually had my cooler, two purses, my computer case, and my blanket.

I tried to make frozen yogurt for breakfast, fix my mom's lighted opal picture (that didn't even come with a light) hahahhah I even cut my finger on it. "Where's your bandaids, mom?" "Upstairs?" "Forget it..."

I need the dog fetch the paper to me. Oh no! I left the dog in her kennel--back to let her out, get the eggs, gather my 50 more pounds of gadgets and run to my mother's house. Ahhh, the back-door is locked again, so I swing all my junk, over to the other-side; which includes this time, my orange swimming bag, my mail, and my extra tablet for writing a blog....I sure don't need any prompts to figure-out what I need to write about. Eh?

Ugggh, all of this is too heavy.  Front door locked on me again and I finally get it open, and out to get the paper that is now too wet to read because the dog did fetch it for me and the goat milk I had fed her ended-up on her dog-lips and then on to the paper. "Here's your paper mom, with dog milk drool and slobbers!" Oh, no I left her heater on last night, or did I? Well it might dry the newspaper, so I set it on the table and my load on the floor.

I did all my chores at home with the help of my dear husband. Actually, he did almost all of them, but I made the yogurt and washed all the things pertaining to milking and yogurt making. Yes, I milked our newly freshened goat and had a little left-overs for one of the mother cats and our beautiful fetching-the-paper-dog.  Oh well, the paper will dry stiff and my mother will be able to read it better. I made my mom's coffee and Oh, No! I didn't say good-bye to my dear husband going on fire-duty and tell him thank-you for all he did for me this morning. I was shaking a'little realizing things are just about to fall apart. I needed to get the coffee ready for my mom. Now, this is a trick, considering I'm Mormon--and active and trying to make coffee is interesting every morning that I'm here. She doesn't even drink two sips, but the coffee has got to be just right. Mom should quit, it's such a waste. I gently tear the bags of sugar and put them in the cup, I open two little containers of creamy stuff and dump them in the sugar box with all the little paper sugar packets belong, instead of the cup. Dump it out and spread all the sugar packets on the counter. Do it! The house is so stinkin' hot all of them will dry stiff and my mom will be able to open the packets of sugar so much more easily, right?

My mom has some breakfast and I just sit down and I hear, "Look!" I didn't stand-up, but just said, "What do you need?" Would you like some more hot sauce?" I definitely didn't get it. But I finally got my back-end outt'a the chair and looked. My husband set a mouse trap that had this very athletic RAT in it. It was a sticky mouse trap and it, the RAT, was sorta' stuck. Noooooo! I don't do rats. It's alive-biting-rat. Oh no! I left my yogurt machine on. I ran home and yes, it was froze-up, literally. Hopefully, I didn't burn-up the motor. I stopped it and ran back to my mom's house, because I knew she'd be freaking-out about the rat. You know, I thought I would just be fine listening to it just flop around, but no...I had this vision of it getting loose and getting even. It would bite me first.

I took a shower this morning, washed my hair and promptly and forgot to brush it. Oh, no I didn't use my lovely powder and Steve is going to flip when he finds out that I used his "Swagger" roll-on deodorant. Well?  I was hurrying.

You know I'm trying not to mention the rat. I told mom if she had a beer I would drink it. I was so flustered. She said she did...okay, I didn't drink her beer, but I was so scared. I had to put on my cowgirl chaps on (metaphor) and get tough. The chaps are next door at my house, and I'm not going over there again! I got a tin-foil turkey pan and a thin piece of cardboard and scooped that big-blood-sucking rat into the pan and screamed like crazy out the "other" back door to the big trash cans. It was literally biting it's way through the tin!

 Here, Kitty-kitty-kitty-KITTY!

Okay, it's another metal..aluminninnn...not tin. But I'm not sure how to spell it at this point! Okay? I'm writing in my blog. I dumped the rat and then went around the house by the birds and just sat there. I heard rustling in the leaves so I walked toward the front door. This back door relocked itself, again. Where are the cats?

 I heard a big truck drive in the driveway and park in front of the house. Was it telepathy? My fire captain to the rescue. No, it was the UPS guy. I was so disappointed I said,"I was happy for a moment until I saw you". I apologized saying that I had a rat-attack and I was hoping that the firemen were coming to rescue me. "I'm so sorry I said that" "I'm really glad to get a present." hahahahah The box wasn't for me, either. I wish he didn't know who I was.
Front door, locked itself, AGAIN! I am locked-out again. I went to the back, back door, that's open and I knew at that point that I needed to go upstairs, because honestly, I didn't want my mom to hear me. I was sick and had to "go" so bad. Note to self: Take-off your bi-focal glasses when descending a long staircase. I knew that, but I didn't and slid all the way down to the bottom sideways.

As I sit and write this I hear the coos of mom's doves that she raises from little eggs... just outside the dining room window, and just a pleasant moment passing and I'm thinking in my mind that they're so relaxing to hear... they start in this sound that is just exactly like "Tickle Me Elmo" laughing. Over and over laughing. They are mocking me. Yeah, like "Mocking Doves" I think they are there just to remind me of my "dovetailing disability."
My Mother's Doves. Yes, she raises Them
This is not the end. I had to see if the rat was still in the trash can. Big mistake. The trash cans are very large plastic containers.  I lifted the lid and leaned it down a little to see if the rat is at the bottom and make sure the rat was not an escapee. Well, surprise me.... the rat was ready and it ran up the trash side and leaped out, right next to my arm. I did a "rat-dance" right there. I turned to see where it was because I was worried it had gone into the house again. was dead on the lawn, concussion maybe. I took it picture of it and as I did ...  it resurrected itself and ran right at me. 

Crazy! The dog watched the whole thing. Where are the mega-million cats when I need them? I'm not rationing goat milk out anymore this week to cats that don't work.

 I'm going to die...I hear another rat flopping around in the kitchen on another one of those tiny, sticky traps. I do... and I'm not looking for it. I'll tell my sister Lori later when she comes at 5:00 p.m. RATS!
BTW: If you by chance see this is a post that is insanely, grammatically incorrect, just figure it's the "day of dread" and I need help. It gets worse, I forgot to take my heart medication today...I didn't even take them to my mothers. MY MOST IMPORTANT THING TO REMEMBER!! Steve calls all this, "spinning" I call this running though life with a heavy coat on my head. I think I'll put my feet-up and feed the livestock at 6:00 p.m. and I'll blog about tonight, tomorrow.

Friday, April 8, 2011

Update On My Mother and Her "Horrible" Stroke

"If life and its rushed pace and many stresses have made it difficult for you to feel like rejoicing, then perhaps now is a good time to refocus on what matters most" Of Things That Matter Most by President Dieter F. Uchtdorf.

This is an update on my mother. For more on my mom's stroke see: The Day Of My Mom's Massive Stroke and Just Know: Miracles Happen Everyday

I wanted to use the term "EPIC" to describe Mom's stoke, because it is "epic" and everything, everything, in my family's life has changed. I've heard the term "epic" so many times, in the past two years and I know, its losing the emphasis that the word had in the past. Awesome is just maybe okay as far as an adjective and passing word. Awesome now is somewhat like the colloquial, 1960's overused extra word, during my teenage years... "neat".  I'm still using "neat" but thankful that Ki-ute has been left behind.
We brought mom home from the hospital and the procedure of removing the aneurysm. Dr. Zaunar said that the placement of the stint and the coiling off of the aneurysm, went beautifully. She spent little time in the SICU at Cottage Hospital. The day was St. Patrick's Day and for my mother, an Irish Lady, she was very happy to be on her way home for good. I decorated the house with boughs of Irish garland in the den and on her cowboy longhorns, on her large mirror in her bedroom, and over her front door.

 Steve had been cooking a brisket since 4:30 a.m. and I made the real mashed potatoes and perfect (not over-cooked) cabbage for her "Welcome Home Dinner". It was the best St. Patty's Day, ever.

Recently as in, day before yesterday. April 7th, 2011: Mom had a visit with her doctor and I was there. He is very active in her care and actually softened my heart with his caring attitude toward Mom. I think he's trying to make-up for past lapses of inattentiveness to her care, as in the Atrial Fib. problem Mom has had all these years. Wow! Not giving her the Cumandin to rid the heart of the blood clots was a big mistake for a very long time. Dr. Alois Zaunar was really surprised (that's putting it gently) that her doctor had not ever prescribed that prescription and Cumandin would have prevented this whole stroke from happening. I see it a bit differently now, that if it wasn't for the stroke the hiding aneurysm would have never been found. A very hard blessing to understand, but it was worth it.
Monday, "Nuclear Myocardial Profusion Stress Test" was given at the imaging center. Mom tried to tell me how horrible it was--I didn't let her get to far with that because I've been through that test a number of times. I suppose when a person doesn't know that "it's a piece of cake" that it doesn't hurt at all and lastly doesn't understand the test, it can be very frightening. Actually, it's relaxing and I use it to think of all my blessings in my life while I lay so still.

My mother's protime results are still really hard to calculate. She loves broccoli and brussel sprouts then she doesn't have them for a while. Those vegetable have a lot of vitamin K and make the blood thick. Resulting in the excess blood thinners. The mix of the Plavix and Cumadin were just too much. She's really got thin blood, right now. Scary riding in her old truck with no protective pillows for her side of the truck and she's lucky because I was going to have her go out and milk a goat for strengthening her hand, still might try that when she doesn't bruise so easily. Honestly, our goats don't kick. I will still stay on the careful side.

This next week she's starting out-patient therapy at Pacific. That's downtown and not too far from her home. Here, at home her assignments are playing with clothes pins with her left stroke weakness and pinching this strange yellow clay. Mom still has trouble speaking and swallowing thin liquids, but we are encouraging her to work at it and watching to make sure she doesn't drink too quickly.

The shower-taking ordeal has now changed so much with her doing it all herself, including all, but getting the left arm and leg in her new clothes for the day. All of this progress is hard to see from day to day, but as I look back, especially reading our daily journal, I see significant improvement.

I know that the future is always unknown for all of us. It actually has helped each one in our family, including my children and grandchildren, to understand and make changes in eating habits and being very careful about what harmful things we take into our bodies that may potentially hurt us. Lastly, we know that exercise is the greatest way to stay healthy. There are inherited problems, but all of those can be made better with good regular visits with competent doctors and a keen adherence to a healthy lifestyle.

The personality change is the oddest of all changes that happen to a stroke victim. The filter is gone and Mom says what she's thinking, no thought to what the outcome of her announcements to all of us. The things she has said, and have at times, been very hurtful. I don't like thinking of them and or even remembering them. I have to keep myself in a frame of mind to "not be easily offended" as we were admonished by our leaders during Church April 2011, General Conference. My mom's impulsiveness and demands were explained to me by the occupational therapist and to expect that there will be times when those will surface in her personality and it's completely normal. So we all just go with the flow, whatever comes. Dang, if this were me, I don't think I could laugh and be as happy as my mom is right now.
The most optimistic improvement that I enjoy seeing in her, is her sense of humor. I just went in to her bedroom to give her the night medications. She put all the pills in her mouth and I lifted a bottle of water up too fast, that I almost hit her in the mouth. Or was it..I just shocked her by her thinking I was going to splash water all over her face? I didn't because there were just a few swallows in the bottle. But, she jumped and I said, "Sorry I scared you." And she just laughed. Actually, that kinda' scared me a little when she jumped. Whata' deal, splashing water on my mother when she was almost asleep.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Oh, The Joy of Grand Daughters & Miscellaneous Easter Antics

Oh the joys of daughters! My Marnie had this terrific party all themed around "Tangled" movie. A few things were from the store, but her cupcake Rapunzel Tower and her boats of seas of blue jello in clear cups were just darn cute.
Tressa, my oldest daughter, was so giving and didn't attend the party...but helped Marnie by taking Adree to her game.  Marnie was busy with the party preparations and the party and Tressa is such a great help and endless support to all of us when the situations of life get tough and so busy. Mom's just have two arms and one car. Marnie had told us that she was only expecting about five children to Preslee's birthday party.  I'm not sure where she got that number, but her yellow mansion was full of big and little people. And she can really, really put-on a great party!
I swam and worked so hard at my exercising this morning and Steve and I had Mexican food Me, I had "cheviche" for lunch. Yum! Steve had a shrimp cocktail in his favorite Mexican-style with clam juice and cilantro. We rushed to Marnie's to take the two youngest grand daughters to the movies, so Marnie could continue to get ready for the party. The girls were little "Birthday Preslee" and her sister, Kenna. We were off  to see the movie, to see "HOP" and eats lots of popcorn and tiny jelly bellies.
Review on HOP: Unless you absolutely have to see it, don't go. I am particularly repulsed by cartoon movies so I'm not too objective about "those" kind of movies because that's all Steve and I ever, ever see. So, I feel like I'm personally an expert. I also happen to know a lot of bunnies and this movie was about bunnies.

Movies! I haven't seen a real movie since the last Twilight and that was without Steve. He loves cartoon movies, so that's what we see. This movie was not original in any way. Okay, I'll say that it was MADE to not to be an original. It was created  from a bunch of movies, but if was a spoof, that would have been something else. It wasn't a spoof and if you've seen the trailers or advertizing for the movie, you've seen the movie. I complained about the movie and Steve said, "Oh, the cartoon and people combination was done well." "I couldn't tell that the bunny wasn't even real." I don't think that Steve ever says anything bad about, hummm....he just doesn't criticize or find fault. No one really reads my blog, so for my grown children, this is my review: Don't waste your money taking your whole family to see this movie. It would be better to see it on your Netflix or whatever rental deal you all have going... and don't buy it. My Tressa would be the exception to this because she actually saw the Easter Bunny, for real.

Tressa saw the Easter Bunny in the Spring of 1975. We lived out in the rural area west of Santa Paula on a big lemon ranch. We had a big yard and her bed was near the front window that looked-out over the fenced, front lawn. She accurately described a boy rabbit, as very large rabbit with tall ears and looked like a medium-sized Kangaroo. Our family lives far-away from a zoo, we don't live in Australia, and none of our neighbors raise Kangaroos. I'm certain Kangaroos don't wear big bows on their necks or carry Easter baskets.
 I will admit I'm jealous because he didn't come to me first. I didn't want like an ET or something, just the same ol' Easter Bunny that came every year. I would've done without candy and everything!
I'm the one that always wished for a "real" live visit from the Easter Bunny.
 The only live thing we ever got for Easter was a bunch of gold fish that ended-up making their home in our horse toughs and "they lived happily, ever after."

One year the Easter Bunny put Kiely's new bicycle way up in the Oak tree. It was also her birthday. That year, Kiely's birthday and Easter, collided on the same day. Dear little Preslee will sometime have her own birthday on Easter Sunday.

Preslee's party was kids, and kids, and kids, and parents. I was dodging spilled punch and cake to help make the supreme ice cream that was interestingly weird tasting. I won't share the recipe because it was like whipped, purple, butter. My yogurt machine, I guess, is made just for yogurt. Did the kids eat it? The light whipped fat was a hit. Perfect! Fat + sugar + cake + frosting = possible a no show at school the next day for every child there. Well, some, Preslee is only 4 years old and there were lots of the younger ones there. It was probably a long night for the overdosed young ones.

I'm going to dream of real Easter Bunnies, and sent a protest letter to the film-maker and to The Screen Actor's Guild for portraying little chicks as dumb, blond, chicks. The treatment and depiction of the unpaid and unappreciated working class of chicks was hateful and undeserving in the film of "HOP"and unneeded subplot. The movie sent a message to my daughters, all chicks... that they can't rise above their position in life and be leaders and yes, why were they all blond? Chicks in real life are many colors.
Preslee's day was so cute. She was a precious little bundle of fun and every word out of her mouth was angelic except for, "Can I have a drink of water?" over 25 time in a row. and "Can I run across the street?" "Can I undo my seat belt?" (at least she asked) ""Can I go to the bathroom?" "Can I have all those stuffed animals in that box?" "Can I have presents, now? It's my birthday!" "Can I go to the bathroom, again?" Kenna raised her voice and in a motherly, sharp tone said, "No!" Preslee started to cry. I gave her a napkin and said pat your tears you need to show-up to your party happy and excited, not with tears. I told her, "You can cry about this all tomorrow when your friends have all gone home." Preslee said, "Okay!" "Good idea!" 4 years old and she "cowgirled-up" right there. Hope I can take my own advise to not be easily offended and just tell myself to think about it tomorrow. And, by then, it won't be important. Sounds a bit like the end of the great movie, "Gone With The Wind" The star character, Scarlett says," I can't think about that right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow."

Okay, I get it. Is it just me? The movie has told all of the real secret. The new Easter Bunny is named Fred O'Hare and he's a human, and Scarlett O'Har(e)a just "hops" right in. I think I need some Freudian psychoanalysis with my associations and compulsion to meet my childhood my favorite mystical, fairytale character. Yes, the Easter Bunny? Maybe.
♫•*¨*•♫♪ Happy, Happy Birthday Preslee, Dear! ♪♫•*¨*•♥•*¨*•♫♪ Happy days will come to you all year! ♪♫•¸♥ ¨*•♫♪ If I had one wish, then it would be... ♪♫•*♥¸¸.•*¨*•♫♪ A Happy, Happy Birthday to you from me! ♪♫•*¨*•♥•*¨*•♫♪ Grandma and Grandpa Love You So Much!