by jphilo | Jul 12, 2010 | Family
Wow! After weeks of planning and wedding tasks that bumped real life activities to the bottom of my to do list, the wedding of our daughter and new son is history. More details will be forthcoming, once I’m not so tired I nod off the minute I’m not moving, and more pictures will be posted once my sweet cousin assigned to taking candid shots has time to download and send them, but for today here are a few highlights:
- Sunday morning’s rain tipped the scales in favor of moving the wedding ceremony to the pavilion in the park. Though the weather improved as the day progressed and the sun was shining for the ceremony, we were glad of the change in venue. The gnats and mosquitoes were bothersome, even in the pavilion. They would have been unbearable in our yard.
- The bride was lovely and her new husband handsome. But their outward appearance is nothing compared to the maturity of their love for one another. We are so grateful our daughter has such a devoted husband who appreciates who she is.
- The flower lady, also known as my sister, outdid herself with the flowers. Who knew Queen Anne’s lace and purple cone flowers, combined with greenhouse roses and gladiolas could be so lovely?
- The work done by the reception planner, also known as my friend Diana, was a gift I can never repay. She took a load off my shoulders by organizing food, materials, and workers…the day before heading to LaCrosse, Wisconsin for her last week of graduate school.
- My long time son and new daughter deserve hugs and kisses for decorating the reception pavilion while I rode herd on the bride and bridesmaids back at the ranch until the ceremony.
- We are blessed with loving family – from our new son’s parents and siblings pitching in to my sister doing the flowers, from one of my cousin’s daughters teaching ballroom dancing at the reception to the cousin who took the pictures, from my brother staying late to help Hiram load and return tables to everyone who participated in Anne and her husband’s joy.
- We are blessed with a loving church family, young and old – sisters and brothers in Christ who came early and stayed late, contributed food, served food, helped with sound equipment, acted silly in the photo booth, hugged our children, and joined in the dancing and merriment.
Such fun. Such memories. Such a support system for us and such strength to lift our sweet children into adulthood. So many blessings. So much grace.
Our cup runneth over.
We are so grateful.
We are so blessed.
Thank you, dear God of all blessing.
by jphilo | Jul 7, 2010 | Family
Four days until the wedding, and what did I find? A dandy patch of Queen Anne’s lace, swaying tall and graceful, in an easy-to-reach spot by old Highway 30 east of town.
The flower lady, also known as my sister, plans to gather the the lovely weed, to use as an accent when she creates bouquets and boutonnières on Sunday morning.
She sees an accent flower, but I see my three-year-old daughter standing on the pew at a long ago wedding. Looking like she’d died and gone to fairy tale heaven, my little girl watches the first bridesmaid glide down the aisle. My little girl leans toward me, her eyes wide, and whispers, “She’s a princess.” As bridesmaid follows bridesmaid, she whispers the same words.
“She’s a princess.”
“She’s a princess.”
“She’s a princess.”
Then the organ music swells, the guests rise to their feet, and I lift Anne into my arms so she can see the bride, lovely in her white gown. My little girl gasps, clasps her hands, and her sweet, high voice floats above the rustle of the crowd and the music.
“Mommy, look. She’s the queen.”
Her voice swirls around the Queen Anne’s lace beside the road, and the memory of her childish face shifts, I see a bride, wearing my wedding dress and carrying a bouquet trimmed with small, delicate white flowers. A sweet, high voice floats out of the past and across the meadow to where I stand beside the road, staring at the patch of wildflowers.
“Mommy, look. I’m the queen.”
by jphilo | Jul 2, 2010 | Family
We had a houseful over Father’s Day weekend, with both kids and their sweeties home for a joint wedding shower. The weekend with them was pure joy. Our two old children and our two new children are thoughtful, kind, loving, and well-mannered. Watching them, I marveled at their maturity and wondered what had become of the kids they had once been.
As the weekend progressed, their younger selves peeked out from their grown up blankets. Our new daughter fussed over and mothered her dog, a reminder of her childhood propensity to carry a baby doll where ever she went. At the wedding shower, our new son pinned a bow to his shirt and struck a comic pose reminiscent of the super heroes who fascinated him for years. When our long-time cousins arrived, they started talking a mile a minute, like they’ve done every time they’ve been together for years.
But we’d held a competition about who revealed the most childhood self during the weekend, our long-time son would have swept the vote. He dressed for the wedding shower in clean blue jeans, a cream-colored western shirt, black cowboy boots, and the new cowboy hat his wife bought for his birthday.
Talk about a flashback.
For the first three years of his life, we lived with our son in cowboy country. As soon as possible he graduated from overalls and onesies to cowboy clothes. He wore his blue jeans with pride, wore out several pairs of cowboy boots, and wouldn’t leave home without the big, old cowboy hat Gerald Burghduff gave him one night at a school program. Even after we moved to Iowa, our long-time son insisted on a new pair of boots whenever we went to visit our cowboy friends in South Dakota.
During our weekend together, all four of our young adults revealed bits of delightful children they once were. But our long-time son proved a point often stated by the friends, neighbors, and students who loved him for the first three years of his life: You can take the boy out of Harding County, but you can’t take Harding County out of the boy.
by jphilo | Jun 21, 2010 | Family
On Saturday, the daughter dashed any hopes Hiram and I entertained about becoming super models. What’s worse she did it in front of thirty or forty people who attended the wedding shower our church held for both our children and their sweethearts.
Her motives were pure, even noble, as she answered this query written by one of the shower goers (as instructed by the shower planners) for the Q & A portion of the party: What have you learned by observing your parents’ marriage?
Anne had time to think about her answer, because Allen answered first. He said something about learning how spouses balance one another out, citing Hiram’s spare use of words compared to the bucket loads I fling with abandon. I don’t remember exactly what he said as I was talking to someone at the time.
Next, Anne’s sweetie answered, describing how he had learned the importance of sacrifice from his mother.
Finally, the daughter opened her mouth. “I learned that love changes how you look at people.” She explained further. “Most of you know my parents and that they’re nice-looking but they’re never going to be super models. Still, sometimes they look at each other with googly eyes, like the other one is the best-looking person on earth.”
If anyone other than the daughter had said we weren’t super models, I wouldn’t have believed what I heard. But over the years the daughter has proven to be the most perceptive and honest person in my life. So what she says must be true. And if the man of steel and I are not super model material, we must rethink the future.
Throw out my dream of usurping Sally Fields as the queen of Boniva.
Nix Hiram’s five year plan for becoming the new Rogain spokesman.
Stop honing our electric-motor-cart-driving-while-looking-youthful skills.
Chuck the fake smiles while eating All Bran in hopes of becoming geriatric cereal models.
We’ll have to rely on something other than our non-existent good looks if we want to be useful during our twilight years. I’m thinking about building a googly eye factory in the back yard, since we’re pretty good at making them even if raw materials are in short supply. When it’s time to mount an advertising campaign we’ll hire the kids and their sweethearts as super models. From what I observed this past weekend, they’re pretty good at making googly eyes, too.
by jphilo | Jun 18, 2010 | Family
Now that the Philo household consists of just me and Hiram, our grocery bills have gone way down. Event though Hiram has a healthy appetite, sometimes, I go two weeks between trips to the supermarket. Pretty nice.
About a month ago, we had company. Hiram’s cousin (our age), his oldest son (Allen’s age) and his youngest son (14) were here for the weekend. The oldest son, a missionary from Siberia (that’s right, Siberia) was on a support-raising tour and spoke at our church on May 17. http://www.youtube.com/user/senttosiberia
The men outnumbered the woman, four to one. Meal after meal, I was astounded by the amount of food needed to satisfy big, strapping, hard-working men. More than once, I was sure I’d over-prepared so much that we’d be eating leftovers for a week. More than once I was wrong. They ate every last bite of almost every meal.
During one lunch, I went to a graduation party. Hiram said they would eat the leftovers that had piled up before their arrival. When I returned, all the leftovers were gone. By the end of the weekend, every bit of every meal was eaten. The bratwurst were gone. The Greek salad was gone. The fruit salad was gone. The strawberry shortcake was gone. The baked oatmeal was gone. The shish-kabobs were gone. The Green Chile bake was gone. The broccoli was gone. The green beans were gone.
I’m not complaining. I’m just amazed at how much guys, especially young, hard-working ones, eat. And I’m wondering if I need to contact the Idaho Family Camp cooks and suggest they increase the amount of food to be prepared and served. Based on my experience with these men, three of whom will be at the camp, they need to know. Then again, they’ve been feeding this crew for years. They probably know already.
Can’t wait to eat with you again, fam. See you in July!
by jphilo | Jun 16, 2010 | Family
For the past year or so, I’ve been posting a recipe a week on my blog. I’ve been upfront about the method behind this madness. My kids both want a cookbook of favorite family recipes, so posting them on the blog killed two proverbial birds with one stone, thought I refrained from baking them in a hypothetical pie.
But Sunday, when I counted the days until this Saturday’s double wedding shower for my matrimonially-minded offspring, I realized that my efficiency went to my head. For a few minutes I vented. Whaddya mean there are less than five days to put the thing together? Where did the time go? How am I supposed to create a cookbook that fast?
Then I calmed down and did the positive self-talk thing. You’re a writer. You can do this. You have the tools. You have paper, a printer, and over 30 recipes posted on the blog. Several more are on file, along with pictures of the food, from your years of writing a recipe column.
After several long sessions and so many deep cleansing breaths hyperventilation was imminent, I calmed down again.
I’m still calm, at least until the list of requested recipes not yet entered into the computer nor photographed for posterity’s sake rears it’s lengthy head. Then I go a little ballistic, until I remember the cookbooks will be in three-ring binders, each recipe tucked into a protective plastic sleeve to the delight of my tidy and perfectionistic heart, so I can send the kids those recipes as they are posted on this blog.
What a relief! No more positive self-talk needed for this perfectionist, efficiency nut. Life is good again…
Unless it rains so much the yard floods for the wedding.
Unless the flowers are done blooming before the wedding.
…I think it’s time to go talk to the oak tree again. Either that or I’m gonna hyperventilate for sure.
How many days until the wedding?
