It was just too gorgeous yesterday...

It was almost 70 degrees in Lansing yesterday! I had the windows open - probably the last time that will happen for a long time. We played four square and basketball (okay, I watched that one) and just had a great time outside. Who knew a November day in Michigan could be so, well, warm?

I savored every bit of sunshine because I know snow is around the corner... I'll be thinking about this day in February, I'm sure.

Needless to say, I didn't write anything yesterday.

Hope you got to enjoy some late summer weather wherever you are, too.

Friday Funnies

We meet with a cool group of college students twice a month - they were over last night. I made potato soup with bacon and there was quite the discussion over the merits of the most yummy part of the pig. That gave me a great excuse to post this bit from Jim Gaffigan:



I know this one's old but it made me smile and I had to share:



This one's for Sean. I don't remember when we talked about this outtake from the Carol Burnett show; I think we first mentioned it when we were dating. Don't know why I never thought to look for it on YouTube before but I'm so glad I found it today. Snorkee right back at you.



Happy weekend!

Good news!

You may recall last August I wrote about Sean being contacted by the national bone marrow registry, asking him to donate to an anonymous recipient. Sean, of course, said yes, and endured several weeks of uncomfortable treatments in order to donate to the man I named Zeke.

We were told we’d hear after a month how Zeke was doing. The transplant was in August and it's now November; obviously it’s been more than a month and we feared the worst. “Maybe they don’t want to call us with bad news,” I pondered.

But yesterday Sean heard from his bone marrow registry contact who told him Zeke is doing well! It appears his body has not rejected the new marrow and, we’re told, he is in good spirits.

We are anxious to contact Zeke and thought after the transplant we could but yesterday Sean was told we’ll have to wait the full 12 months before any type of communication can begin. I realize this is for everyone’s protection, but it’s still a total bummer. I’m not the best at waiting…

Sean’s contact person said she’d call us back in a few months to give us another progress report on Zeke. I’ll certainly pass along any news as soon as we get it.

I know many of you prayed for Zeke and Sean; thank you so much. I greatly appreciate those prayers, and I know Zeke’s family does, too. And if you’re still in the praying mood, our dear friend Bonnie received a BMT a month ago. I know her family would welcome any and all prayers on their behalf.

I believe healing is miraculous, whether it’s by divine intervention or medical technology. Thank the Lord for medicine and doctors and scientists who figure out all this stuff. That brain power was God-given, anyway, so really, it’s all from him.

Thanks again and stay tuned for more Zeke updates!

Back to reality

So we’re back. The Enclave was jam-packed (note to self: buy a roof topper!) and left barely enough room for our backseat passengers (another note to self: everyone should pack less!) but by 9:15 Saturday morning we were all set to hit the road for our 13 hour ride north. We left from Sean’s sister’s house; we’d spent the last two days of our trip with her family so we could see one nephew’s soccer game (he scored a goal and they won!) and another nephew’s marching band performance at the high school football game (the band was great, the football team not so much). They live northeast of Atlanta so simply hopping on I-75 wasn’t an option. But there are several highways that eventually run into 75. We planned to take 85 to 26 to 40 to 640 which would put us on I-75 near Knoxville.

Best laid plans…

We were cruising right along and whizzed by a flashing DOT sign. Ditto to the second sign. By the time we tried to read the third we noticed it said something about I-40. We slowed down to read the fourth sign which said part of I-40 was closed due to a massive rock slide.

Are you kidding me?

After passing a fifth DOT sign we got off the highway near Asheville and bought a map. Sean was not satisfied with the map or GPS on my iPhone, and this Enclave wasn’t equipped with a nav screen. We aren’t familiar with that area because we rarely go that way so we had no idea if part of our travels would take us past the mile markers the signs kept screaming at us to avoid.

Long story short (sort-of): The part of I-40 that’s closed is most definitely the part we needed. The only solution was the detour spelled out by the NCDOT which added an extra 53 miles to our already 800 mile journey.

I was not happy. I was more not happy when, as we were maneuvering the detour, I got a call from my sister who said, “Oh, if I’d known you were going that way I would have told you about the road being closed.” Fabulous.

The kids did great. No one asked how much longer or uttered the dreaded, “Are we there yet?” Each seemed content to read or play a video game or sleep a bit. I, on the other hand, was going out of my mind. I am not a great car traveler and the thought of adding extra miles to an already extra long trip nearly put me over the edge. By Cincinnati I was hysterical. It was 7:00 and we still had five more hours to go! Our 13 hour trip was going to take 15 dadgum hours. Fifteen hours!

Thankfully we had the time change working on our side, a fact I stubbornly refused to acknowledge between Lima, Ohio and Ann Arbor because I was apoplectic over the length of the drive. By the time we’d gotten off 23 and hopped on 96 I’d calmed down and was resigned to the fact that this was, indeed, going to be the longest trip we’d made since moving, 4 ½ full hours off my record time of 11 hours, 30 minutes when I drove for six hours without stopping. So even though we didn’t get in until midnight it was actually 11 pm. And that extra hour certainly helped this morning when we got to sleep in a bit before getting up for church.

And as a dear friend reminded me at church this morning, we got home safely. No matter how long it took, we were granted traveling mercies. Not a fact to belittle in the least.

Just in case anyone's traveling that way, here's a handy dandy map:

Halloween Funnies

This very thing happened to Michael and Amy about eight years ago. Michael hit the guy over the head with his bag of candy and ran away, screaming bloody murder:



My brother-in-law passed this gem along:



It wouldn't be complete without a bit of Charlie Brown's The Great Pumpkin (thanks to Sean for finding this):



For all of you trick-or-treaters out there, have a great time! Happy Halloween and All Saints' Day!

Don't check that off

When we make the trek South I always send a day-by-day plan of what we’ll be doing, when and where. Visit my grandmother: check. Visit some girlfriends: check. Visit my folks and Sean’s: check and check. Visit a Gwinnett County policeman after a fender bender on Sugarloaf Parkway: check. But that one was most definitely not on my list.

I was heading over to Sean’s parents’ in my Mom’s car. It was raining, and had been all day. I was stopped at a red light, minding my own business, listening to my favorite Atlanta radio station, enjoying a drink from Chick-fil-A when I heard a crunch of metal. My car lurched forward and in that split second I thought, “For crying out loud, what is going on?!” When I looked in my rearview mirror the guy behind me was a lot closer than he’d been mere moments ago. A policeman in the next lane over and saw the whole thing and he directed us to a parking lot where he took our insurance and personal info.

Neither of us was hurt, thankfully. Well, not physically. The poor kid, who was about 18, was in his father’s Mustang. It was nearly new and he was absolutely distraught. I felt terribly for him. The impact cracked the front bumper and there was no way it would go unnoticed.

All I could think was, “If this were Michael, he’d be an absolute wreck.”

I did my best to make sure the young man knew everything on my end was okay. My Mom’s car didn’t suffer any damage and he was thankful about that. We were both thankful no one was hurt. And, again, thankfully, the policeman was as kind as he could be under the circumstances; he actually seemed concerned for the kid’s well-being, too.

Tomorrow we get back to the list – visit Sean’s sister’s family, watch one nephew play soccer, watch another march with his high school marching band. I hope yesterday’s little fender bender is the last deviation from my schedule on this visit.

Mandatory visit

We’re in Atlanta for a visit with friends and family. Planning these trips back home is difficult because I could never see everyone I’d like to see which is a good/bad thing.

One non-negotiable visit for this trip was with my grandmother. She recently moved to an assisted living facility; she fought that move for years, but now, at 93, she realized she needed a bit of help. My grandfather’s been gone for 13 years and for all that time she’s taken care of everything. Until a few months ago she lived on her own. She drove to church and the grocery store and post office and she took care of her house and all that goes along with that. But a few medical scares and difficulties led her to the decision it was time to accept some help.

My parents, aunts and uncle and several cousins have all been to visit her in her new digs. I had not. I also had not written or called, facts she didn’t hesitate to tell my dad each time she talked to him. I was in the dog house. So when I peeked in her room I wasn’t sure what she’d say – she’s notorious for biting comments like, “I nearly forgot about you!” or, “I thought you’d died.” I was not looking forward to the guilt trip.

But she was so frail – frailer than the last time I’d seen her several months ago. And with the loss of her energy it seemed she’d lost some of the steam that fueled the remarks I dreaded. I just hugged her neck and said, “Hi Mama Mary. It’s good to see you.”

She took us on a tour of the facility, which is lovely. She showed us her place in the dining hall, and Dad took us upstairs to see the craft room and movie theater. (Michael and Amy said they wouldn’t mind living there!) The staff we spoke with seemed genuinely interested in the residents and the whole place seemed lively and open and inviting. There wasn’t that nasty old people smell so many places like that have.

We took pictures with her and the kids and I couldn’t help but wonder if we’ll see her again. We’ve always joked she’ll outlive us all; after seeing her Sunday I’m not sure I’ll make that joke again.

I’m glad she’s in a place where she’ll receive care when she needs it. I’m glad she’s not responsible for the upkeep of her house. I’m glad someone’s monitoring her meds. And I’m glad she has so many friends in the place.

I’m also glad she let me out of the doghouse – even thought she's a bit of a grouch (and, honestly, always has been) I don’t know how much time I have left to call or write her but I don’t intend neglect that granddaughter duty again.