Tea Time

This sweet green teapot was originally used to serve hot tea to diners at Cameron's cafeteria in Tyler, Texas where my mother and father both worked when they married in 1931.  These days it is more often used to hold a couple of cut roses from my garden, but I like it best sitting on my counter, reminding me of my parents, their willingness to work at building a marriage and life (I believe Daddy made $1.50 a week when they got married), and the fact that they kept the little teapot even though the enamel inside is chipped and rusted.  I like the grace of the handle and the spout and the way the lid tips back on a tiny hinge. My shiny red electric teakettle and our Flavia machine which can produce a cup of lemon or peppermint tea in no time with little fuss and bother are convenient and useful, but I doubt either will be around in over 80 years for someone to photograph and write about.  Somehow, I think this one will. 

Puzzling

Joe has been working on this jigsaw puzzle during the time following a recent surgery. We like lighthouses, and this one is lovely. But the landscape in which it sits is a challenge and took hours to work on. We kept looking for pieces only to find the missing piece on the floor. One day as I entered the kitchen, I saw the reason.

Angel the cat liked the puzzle, too.  She patted a piece to the table's edge until it fell, then looked for another one to repeat her trick. Two weeks ago, Joe went back into the hospital for another surgery.  I was spending most of the time at the hospital with him.  On the third day we were away, I returned home late at night, turned on the lights and discovered the lighthouse puzzle in chaos, mostly on the floor.  I think Angel and her cohort, Bella, were trying to express their displeasure at being left alone all day without someone to top off the food dish.  Why do they need feathers on a stick when they have us?

Completely Present

In dwelling, live close to the ground. In thinking, keep to the simple. In conflict, be fair and generous. In governing, don’t try to control. In work, do what you enjoy. In family life, be completely present. -Eleanor Roosevelt.

I found these words while reading a blog I enjoy  - http://www.throwbackroad.com/

I want to echo "in family life, be completely present."  In today's busy schedules, the actual waking hours families spend with each other can be reduced to few.  By the time work, school, sports, music and/or dance classes get their share of a calendar day, there may not be much left.  Meals grabbed to be eaten in the car on the way to another activity and family members each on their own cell phone or electronic device are common sights.

  Is it possible to make choices that claim actually being present in family life?   I think so.

 Preparing food together and then sitting down around a table at home is an important, and certainly a great boost for the budget.  If we turn off the television, give the same attention to each other that we seem to give to phone calls and texts, I believe family time can not only be something to look forward to, but a time we can learn to enjoy being together, completely present.

When our children and grandchildren gather here, we make an effort to have sit-down meals together.  Many times, this is around the old oak dining table which belonged to my grandmother.  I believe her smile joins ours as we have our table blessing and pass the potatoes, present to each other.

At Home

Yesterday I brought my husband home from his most recent surgery and hospital stay.  He said when he walked in (bandaged knee and walker assisted), his pain level just dropped.  I love that.  I feel that way, too. In all our years of growing our family, I have always wanted home to be a haven, a place we want to come back to.  The most wonderful compliment anyone gives me is not about furniture or decorations, it is that they feel at peace and find comfort here.  Welcome home, Joe!

"Home - that blessed word, which opens to the human heart the most perfect glimpse of Heaven..."
                                                                                                 ~ Lydia M. Child