Saturday, November 23, 2013

Under My Guarda Chuva

Editor's Note: Been trying to post some pix for a couple of weeks now. Something techie we thought.  New router. Still some grinches in the blog, I think, but I'm going for it.
 
 
On a walk with our boy several weeks ago, he cracked me up!
A big umbrella with little legs, just walking and chattering away.
 
Guarda Chuva! Umbrella! Guarda Chuva!

 
 Daniel translates his own words from English and Brazilian Portuguese,
so just wait if you don't understand what he said.
 

Showed Daniel how to collapse the umbrella,
so of course, he had to do it too.
Hello!

Umbrella is really fun to take on a walk.

350,400 Hours

Forty years ago on this day Steve and I were tying the knot.  I wore ivory lace; my veil covered a fresh face framed by long dark wavy hair.  My blue-eyed, blonde-haired delivery man looked so handsome--if not a little uneasy--in his tails.  The carved altar and gothic arches of St. Paul's Methodist Church were warm and bright with white tapers and apricot roses.  Jesus prayed in a stained glass garden overhead, while friends and family joined in the pews.  It was a time of joy, adventure, and endless possibilities.

On that grey, chilly weekend, we newlyweds sped off into our new life in Steve's navy blue Mercury Cougar XR7 (which, BTW, was one of the important things that attracted me to my man . . . ).  Sigh.  We stopped on Galveston's Seawall to have seafood before checking in at The Flagship Hotel for the weekend.  Forty years ago . . . I can hardly believe it.

We had met ten years earlier when I was a young teen and Steve had his first job at Sacco Brothers Grocery Store in Southwest Houston.  Accompanying my mother every Saturday for her weekly shopping trip, I wasn't necessarily trying to learn domestic skills; I was just checking out the stock boy.  And Steve always managed to replenish shelves on our aisle or sack groceries at our register.  Later he joked that it must have been love, because my mother was a frugal tipper.

Yes, falling in love with Steve was easy.

Forty years later, our weekend looks a little different.  I'm sitting at my laptop in "relaxed fit" Lee Riders and sensible shoes.  Dry, wrinkled skin is tamed a little by Eucerin Original Healing Soothing Repair Crème with Rich Emollients.  My silver cropped head has a quarter-sized divot in its crown instead of a veil.  (But it's free of basal cell carcinoma, and the dermatologist insists that most of the hair will grow back.)  My pewter-haired groom is sitting in his study, dozing through college football.  His uniform is Levi's and an Old Guys Rule t-shirt.  He requires bright light and cheaters from the drugstore to decipher small print, and allows me to help tame his bushy Bingham brows.  (Personally, I'm grateful the eyesight is a little dim.  That means he can't distinguish the coarse stray facial hair that plagues his bride between threadings.)

This day, 480 months after our wedding, Steve is back home from his early morning MRI to check out why his quiet voice has gradually become hoarse and raspy.  In the sanctuary of our home, we're surrounded, not by candles and flowers, but by Mr. Potato Head and Boogie Wipes--visible reminders of our busy 21 month-old grandson's Friday play date with GiGi and HeyYea.

We have another damp grey fall weekend--just like the one four decades ago.  But today, instead of our wedding reception, a fragrant pot of chili chases the damp away.  No honeymoon weekend of walks on deserted beaches and fresh red snapper with potatoes au gratin at Gaido's.  We'll most likely enjoy our simple, spicy dinner on trays in front of the television tonight.  Maybe a Netflix movie or Downton Abbey?  In case you're thinking that Steve has become a lazy slouch after all this time, I hasten to say: with a full heart, I politely turned down his invitation to get fancy and eat out.

350,400 hours after vows, it's still an adventure, now tempered by hope and a peace that passes human understanding.  Not every hour has been Christmas morning or Disney World.  Two bright, healthy sons were delivered by C-Sections.  Mixed in with goodnight prayers and Little League, there were two-year-olds and teenagers.  The same year that we celebrated Steve's father's 80th with a family cruise, life filled up with biopsies, chemotherapy, surgery, radiation, clinical trials, and recovery; along with fifteen years of follow-up oncology visits.  I was able to celebrate our eldest son's college graduation while Steve stayed home recuperating from his cancer treatment.  Because Steve is unable to fly, he sent me off to Brazil for two important family celebrations: our youngest son's wedding to our beautiful daughter-in law and the birth of our grandson.  We were hemispheres apart, connected by Skype.  In our married life, there have been deaths--some sudden, some anticipated.  Our family understands marriage and divorce, happiness and depression, the poison of alcoholism and the freedom of sobriety.

When I think about it, how did two very flawed humans in a fallen world--how has our life together survived?  More than survived.  Triumphed.

The only answer I know is the truth that after 40 years--4 decades--480 months--350,400 hours--God is still on His throne.  Falling in love was easy.  Staying in love has been an act of God.

 

Saturday, November 2, 2013

Howl-o-Ween


Hi! Ola! It's me, Daniel. Here we go on another adventure.

Once upon a time last Saturday, I got to be a football player. I like football. We see it on television.  Go Aggies! Go Texans!  Mamae got to be a cheerleader, and Papai got to be a referee.




Mostly I don't like to stand still for pictures.
We went to a place called Bridgeland for a party called Howl-o-Ween Fest. What that means is there were lots of people and lots of puppies and almost all of them dressed up fancy.


Here's Papai with
a funny little cheerleader pup-pup.
And Mamae's pompoms.
And my two footballs.


She likes to play football too.


Her friend is a football player.

 I got to jump and jump on this bouncy thing.

See my big shoulders?
My GiGi made some shoulder pads
so I could be a real football player.


I got to jump and Mamae got to watch.
She cheered for me like a cheerleader
is supposed to.


Mamae says I have good balance.
I don't know what that means,
but I had fun running up and down this bridge.


Gigi held me so we could see
a big duck and a giant pinecone.
Reeeally big.


I told you they were giant!
 


Mamae looks pretty.


This little boy was riding a chicken.
What's that all about?!



Mamae and I had fun talking about
the giant duck and the boy on the chicken.



Here's Mamae and GiGi
waiting with me for a show with puppy dogs.


Did you see how pretty Mamae is?!

Papai blew his whistle sometimes,
just like referees are supposed to.
The show was about to start. It was called Mutts Gone Nuts!
 
Here's the stage.

Here's a man.
On the stage.
 The man said that all his dogs were 'rescue dogs.'  I'm pretty sure that means they were all really smart and lucky to play with the man. Each puppy did funny things.

This dog never let go of his Frisbee.

Not until he jumped on the man's back
and looked like Captain America.

My GiGi thought the dogs were so funny.
Sometimes they made me laugh too.
This little girl witch came up on stage
to help the man.

She held a ring real still.

Another dog jumped right through the ring
lots of times.

That dog jumped up on this round thing
and walked on it all the way across the stage.

He stood up and smiled.
Does this mean he has good balance like me? 

GiGi and I sat next to Mamae for the show.
Next was a dog that sang a song.

He also pushed the barrel
with his friend on top,

and then he said his prayers.

for a long, long time.

Then he jumped through that ring for the lady.

The man tried to get someone to jump for him.

But no one would listen to him.

This puppy just laid down.
It was so funny!

I guess this is where the Mutts Go Nuts.
The brown dog
started dancing around the black and white dog.

This dog talked!

This dog played jump rope.
 And then, a really great trick.
The man said Charlie would walk across the wire
if we would all say his name.

So all of us started, "Char-lie, Char-lie, Char-lie!"

Charlie!  Charlie!

He walked while we chanted his name.

Then he went zoom down the slide,
and we all clapped and said, "Hooray for Charlie!"

Hooray for Charlie!
This puppy liked to dance with the man.

He jumped so high to catch the Frisbees.

See the man hug his friend?

Hooray for Mutts Gone Nuts!
 I'm happy that we had this adventure. It was fun to be a football player. It was fun to see people and their dogs all dressed up. I met a giant duck and a pinecone that was really big. Papai blew his whistle and Mamae cheered. GiGi laughed a lot, like she always does.  Dogs are fun.

Happy Howl-o-Ween!