Olny srmat poelpe can raed tihs.
I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rgh it pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! If you can raed tihs psas it on !!

Petrty wihld huh?

Anyways,
I am on my way to my parents tonight and on the road to Maryland tommorow.
So I will catch you on the flip side!

I love summer.

I love the whole thrill of opening the doors and windows.
I will be driving to the ocean and playing on the beach.
Invitations will be filled by family and friends to come and visit.

I am a summer baby; there is no two ways about it.
I live in God's country in Maryland.
A small home town setting that lets you to revert back to the 'good ole days' and yet a half an hour in either direction takes you to the beach and boardwalk or to the hip lifestyle of a busy city.
It is ideal and versatile enough to keep me happy in all genres.
I can’t help but celebrate in my way;
Thus the poem;
Enjoy.



*******

Heart of Sunshine

The bright sun greets me as I walk out the door
The rain falls in rhythm, dancing on the side walk
Letting winged creatures splash in delight
What a day to wake to
What a great way to make it through
The summer day

Children whizzing by on their bikes and boards
Chasing down the ice cream truck
Their laughter flitting back to my heart
What a day to wake to
What a great way to make it through
The summer day

Fireman fairs set up and filtering families and friends
Bingo numbers being called out
Mothers smiling the first time all day
What a day to wake to
What a great way to make it through
The summer day

Wedding bells chiming out to all that love was found
Graves with bright bouquets
Earmarking the loved ones still missed
What a day to wake to
What a great way to make it through
The summer day

Dogs prancing on leashes seeking attention from all
Town people filling picnic baskets
Beach towels wrapped around the waist
What a day to wake to
What a great way to make it through
The summer day

Bedroom Windows open to welcome the night
Frogs calling out their greeting
While fire flies flicker and decorate the eve
What a day to wake to
What a great way to make it through
The summer day

~ Whispered

(This is a repost, but I thought of Art and my brother the other day and dug it back out one more time. This is in fact a true story.)

He sat near the entrance of the Red and White store.
His old baseball cap sat on his knee, its embroidery faded and gone, the logo now a faded memory from sweat and dirt. He wore clothes that were typical of a farmer's helper, dungarees and flannel button down shirt, but they had years of wear, they had retired along with him.

Art was a quiet old creature, never married as far as anyone knew and had been a farm hand all his life. He lived with his parents until they too passed on, and he remained in his home the same as when they had been with him. He never imposed and he certainly didn’t request anything special in life. He always sat in a wooden ladder back chair in the front of the Red and White Store. He would get gas for his truck, come inside and drink a coke, then place his cap back on his grayed head and leave. He was an icon in some ways, you expected him there, but you didn’t converse.

Old Art gave the town children 'the willies', he was gruff and grizzled in some ways, and his blue eyes looked far younger than his age. He never smiled and it was rumored that if Art smiled at you, he was planning something sinister. In reality he was harmless, the store owners liked him, that was obvious, but since no one else really knew him, stories were invented by the young.

Most kids in town skirted him and when you did walk past, you never looked at him. You moved quickly and said nothing. Matter of fact, we never looked him in the eye. No one knew much about him and no one bothered to know him. His private life remained private, that is, until my little brother discovered him.

Eric never felt limits; he had a need for expression and a need to experience. He was born with less fear and more energy than most. He was an adorable toddler, reddish brown curly hair and dark penetrating eyes. He read early in life and they were odd things, like obituaries. He announced one day at supper that summer when he was four, ‘that people died alphabetically’. At least that was how he saw it since they were listed so in the newspaper. He used words bigger than he was and told the most outlandish stories that you had to ponder if the child didn’t do them after all.

Eric found Art one morning. It wasn’t like Old Art was hiding; it was that Eric didn’t follow protocol. He didn’t even try. He let go of my mothers hand and walked right up to Art and stared until Art had no recourse but to look back. I remember watching in awe and fear. Eric spoke first and said “Hi. You are Art.” He said it like the man didn’t know his name and Eric was giving it to him to hang on the other knee. Art remained quiet, his face reflected a bit of curiosity. Then Eric did something that I don’t understand to this day, he climbed into Art’s lap. I think Art was as astonished as I was. I watched my little brother settle into his lap like he knew him his whole 4 years.

Everyone was quiet, except my mom, who was shopping and never really seen the event as spectacular. I lost a lot of fear of Art right then and there; he suddenly became a lonely man who was unimposing. Eric started chatting and although Art acted as though he was balancing China dishes for a while, he joined his chatter with ‘uh huh’s and nods.’

I have often wonder if Eric asked mom about Art. I think she probably told him he needed a friend.

All I do know was that for years thereafter, he and Eric talked to each other, in low tones and Art always smiled a big wide smile, he would sip coke and Eric would eat tootsie rolls while sitting where Art’s old cap used to sit.

I love being a mom.



After the birth of my first daughter I knew that I liked this job. It was rewarding and it expressed what I saw in life through my little one's eyes.
Sarah was dimply and adorable.
She slept through the night and attracted large audiences of older people since had a bubbly personality and sang like a bird for entertainment.
We decided to have another about 4 years later, I decided I knew what I was doing.
Heck, I could write a book, and problem children, well they were problem parents. I mean truly, my baby was perfect, so it had to be something they were doing wrong.

Then I had Ashli.

Oh sweet dear Ashli.

She set me straight.
She reduced my over inflated ego and taught me that I had learned nothing.
She woke me at night until she was three and had a quirky surprising personality. She was determined, competitive and stubborn.
She found odd events to challenge me, and her little mind.
Just when I thought I would collapse with exhaustion,
I found out I was pregnant with Kayleen, Ashli was just 9 months old and walking, yes walking.

I was reduced to fear but would not show it.
Kayleen came out tiny, frail and slobbery. She had large round eyes and resembled a precious moments child. She let her sisters communicate for her and would hitch a ride on any available hip.

After a bit we fell into a flow of things and we bonded.
I made a mural for the girls' room. It said "God made us sisters, We choose to be friends."

We are close and I enjoy each one individually and have even more fun with their blended personalities.

Tomorrow I will have them with me for Mother's Day.

I am delighted.
We are ordering in Chinese food and are watching movies together.
I can't think of a better way to spend a day with them.
It won't be long when it will be difficult to be all in one place.
My oldest is 20 and the other two are 14 and 15.
They are growing up and getting wings.
They aren't perfect, but I can't be prouder.
I am a blessed Mom.



>>>>>>

I am leaving you with these very fun songs by a comedic mom,Anita Renfroe, and the second by Madeline Kahn, both are very fitting for us moms.