Saturday, November 26, 2011

A Boy. And His Dog. And Some Carrots. (A “Snowy Writes” Selection From the Archives)

While I take some time to emerge from my turkey/pecan pie coma and get a new post written,  I’m featuring one from the archives for you to enjoy once more.  Sarah and I were just talking about this post yesterday and saying how much we both really loved it.    (Note:  Photography is a bit blurry but the cuteness still shines through.  Take it away, Snowy . . .


Hi. Snowy here.

A couple weeks ago, Nathan came home from college for a few days.   Whenever he’s home, he and I like to hang out together--since we’re related and everything.  Also we both have our distinguished college backgrounds in common so we’re sort of, kind of (but not really) like fraternity brothers. 

A lot of times when he comes home, Nathan watches sports on TV.  I like to sit beside him and help him watch.  I’m good like that.

Well, one night we were sitting on the couch (as per usual), and he got up for a minute to go to the kitchen.  And you’ll never guess what he did!  (Insert excited voice here.)

He left his bag of baby carrots behind!  On the couch!  Right in front of me!


I watched the carrots very, very carefully. I did not (of course) want them to escape before Nathan returned.  Nathan had put a lot of trust in me and I intended to do my job well. And with great bravery. And also with élan. (Whatever élan is.)


The only problem?  I love baby carrots.  And putting me in charge of the carrots was like asking Butch Cassidy to babysit the bank.  Not such a good idea.

I looked at the kitchen door to determine whether or not Nathan was returning yet.  He wasn’t.


So I stealthily belly crawled a little closer to the carrots—just to be sure that they were still safe and everything.  I also kept a nervous eye on the kitchen door.


When, oh when, was he going to come back? The temptation was getting to be too much!  Just. Way. Too. Much.  I figured I’d better take a few steps back so as to put some distance between the Evil Carrot Temptation and myself.


Then I crept forward again and pondered just how long it might take my sharp little teeth to tear into that bag.


Finally it was just too much. 

“Nathan!” I hollered.  “Get back in here! I can’t take it anymore!”


Nathan returned post-haste.  And also fast.  He scurried right back in and sat on the couch.

But also?  He started watching the game again and left the carrots right smack dab in front me!  Right smack dab in front of my very own person!  Right in The Danger Zone!  The Temptation Zone!  The Zone of Carrot Wanting-ness Zone!

What’s a doggie to do when that kind of temptation comes into his life?


I did the only thing I could.

I admitted my weakness.  I admitted I needed help.  I went over to him and said, “Bro, we need to talk--man to man,  brother to brother.  I’m asking you to please not leave me alone with the carrot sticks any more.  The temptation is just too much for my small, cute soul to handle.”

Nathan listened very carefully as I poured out my earnest doggie heart. He put into practice all the psychological insight he’s gained during the last four years of college.  He delved deep into my psyche and got to the root of why I was so attracted to carrots.  We had bonding time, man.  Real (and also genuine) bonding time.


Well!  I felt quite sure that after sharing such a profound moment, he would clearly understand that it would be a swell idea to have a little Sharing of the Carrots Ceremony in order to cement the special ambient aura of the moments we had just experienced together.

Sometimes when I pass gas there is also a special ambient aura but I don’t think we need to get into that right now.  Oh wait. Maybe we just did.  (Never mind.)

So anyway, Nathan put the carrots in his lap so he could get to them easily. I watched interestedly and intently, waiting for some sort of Big Action on the part of My Boy.


And then?  Action happened! 

He ate a carrot.  And I watched. (Not the kind of action I was anticipating.)


He looked at me with his Patented Nathan Teasing Grin and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, Snowy. Did you want a carrot?”


Um. What do you think?


He looked over and said to Mom, “Isn’t this funny?  Snow thinks he wants a carrot.”


Then Nathan put the carrots behind me, opened his mouth and said, “But see?  I don’t have any carrots.”


By that point, I’d had it. I had had enough. I was sick and tired of all his teasing and tom foolery and I was ready to have myself a stinkin’ carrot, dagnabbit!  (Dagnabbit is the only swear word pastor’s dogs are allowed to say.)

Well, I just went right ahead and cast aside all usual traces of my Mr. Nice Guy persona and I got right up in Nathan’s grill and I told him a thing or two (or three) about how rude he was being in not offering me a carrot.  I think I really intimidated him. Really, really bad.


I mean, just look at the intimidated face.


I didn’t want to scare him too much with further intense and reproving remonstrations so I finally sat back down. But I kept a close eye on him. I didn’t know what was coming next but I wanted to be ready. This was Big. Stuff. This was Carrot Time!


And you know what?  Something exciting did take place!  The very next thing I knew, Nathan was offering me a carrot!  In his mouth!  I stood on my hind legs in great shock and astonishment.  (And also, to get a better look at the precise placement of yon carrot.)

IMG_1120  I  

Then I backed off, sat down, and pondered the situation for a moment.

Hmmm.  What to do?  What to do?


I tilted my head a little the other way, which always helps me to think more clearly.


Then I made my move!  Stealthy as a cat, fast as a cougar, quiet as a, um, quiet animal . . .  I moved in close.  I sprang! I lunged!  I got to within snatching range of the Desired Carrot-esque Object!


And then?  In one blindingly speedy movement, I grabbed that ol’ carrot right out of Nathan’s mouth!  And I raced feverishly away with my prize in hand.  (Er. Mouth.)


It sure did taste good. 

I just love it when my brother comes home.                       


Wednesday, November 23, 2011

Wedding Wednesday: Writing Memories

You are being personally welcomed to today’s Wedding Wednesday
by the the bride and groom themselves!


They’re saying, “Come on in!  It’s gonna be fun!”


Of course, wherever these two go, fun follows.


In fact, when Steve was asked to lead in prayer before the luncheon,
everyone closed their eyes except for one
certain groom. He couldn’t seem to stop grinning long enough to engage in
any prolonged eye closing. 

(And yes, that is the mother of the groom you see holding a
pocketbook twice the size of the Titanic. I carried a small, elegant purse for the
ceremony but I started breaking out in hives at the thought
of being separated from my jumbo “mom purse” for any length of time.
I might need an intervention.)


During the luncheon, the bride and groom made the rounds, hugging folks . . .


. . . and showing off those certain items of jewelry that had
transformed them into Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Smith.


Then it was time for a little dancing. . .


. . . before heading outside with their assorted attendants
for a few more poses and pictures.


And also, some kissing.



But a bride and groom can only be all lovey-dovey for so long before the
Real World intrudes. And in this case,
the Real World arrived in the
form of Nathan’s groomsmen.

Can you tell that Meagan loves hanging out with these fun fellas?


Of course, she enjoys this fun fella quite a bit, too.


In fact, if there was one word to sum up the
relationship that Nathan and Meagan have, it would be fun.

Big, big, fun.

The two of them are really funny on their own but when you put them together?
They are a HOOT!



When I look at their faces, I can’t help but think of the song I wrote for their ceremony,
”Love is the song, we are the melody.
Today we’ll start writing our own memories.”


Let the memory writing begin.



Gail left a comment asking if Nathan and Meagan would be here for Thanksgiving.

This year, they will celebrate Thanksgiving with Meagan’s family in Florida and then at Christmas,  they will come and be with us.

I thought I had come to grips with the whole idea of this being our first Thanksgiving without Nathan until I found myself crying in the potato chip aisle of the grocery store last night.  I had paused to choose some chips and happened to see one of Nathan’s favorite flavors: Kettle Cooked Sea Salt and Cracked Pepper. They reminded me of when he lived at home and always jumped around in fine Golden Retriever puppy fashion whenever a new bag of chips was opened.  He’d say, “Oooh, Mom! Let me have the first chip!  The first chip in the bag always tastes the best!”

That little routine always made me smile.

But last night?  When I saw those chips and heard his wacky little chip spiel in my head?  I will admit I shed a few mommy tears right there next to the Sea Salt.

Although it won’t be easy having this first holiday without my beloved firstborn (and his marvelous bride) here, it makes it a lot more bearable knowing that he will be surrounded by in-laws who love him and treat him as one of their own.  He is so blessed to be a part of that wonderful family and my mama heart is full, knowing that he will be surrounded by plenty of laughter and good times. And also really great food.  (Although probably not Sea Salt chips.)

In closing, we have made some extra, extra special plans for our Thanksgiving meal which I’ll write about after it’s all over!


Tuesday, November 22, 2011

Homemade Harps. Homegrown Angels.

Last week, Sarah and three other English students wrote a short play that they will be performing today for their class.   Sarah’s role is to be an angel which presented her with the challenge of finding clothing angelic enough to suit the play but not so angelic that she would feel a wee bit foolish wearing it around school all day.

And her other assignment? To have at least two angelic props in her possession while acting in the play.

Hence, last night the Smith house was filled with myriad harp designing/building/painting activities, as well as the trying on of various “angelic but not too angelic” clothing ensembles.

At 9 pm, Sarah had replaced her angel garments with her comfy pj shirt, but bed was still in the far away future because there was harp painting yet to be done.

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This is the Harp Architect.

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He drew the harp out on a piece of art canvas, cut it out with with one of his handy dandy, manly man tools, and then attached strings to the whole kit and caboodle. When Sarah had asked him to help make a harp, she was just picturing one sketched out on a piece of paper with a few strings drawn in for a quasi realistic effect.

However, she had failed to reckon with the fact that her dad is a hands on kind of guy and when someone needs assistance with making or designing something, he is 100% invested in it.   (And very, very happy about it.)

And so Sarah’s Harp Production turned into an evening-long project.

angel harp 034

But it was worth it.

This morning, our homegrown angel took her homemade harp and flew away to school.  (Well, sort of.)

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Isn’t the lacey dress a lovely, angelic touch?

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The only problem with homegrown angels?  When they vacate the premises, the premises feel rather . . . well . . . vacated.

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So Snowy and the empty Smith house will patiently spend the whole day waiting for the homegrown angel to return, knowing that she will bring sparkling smiles, luminescent laughter and golden stories with her when she comes.

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So thankful for our homegrown angel.