Make a Smilebox scrapbook

For my mother on her 75th Birthday

Dear Mom,

I am thinking of you on your birthday and contemplating all that you are.

You didn't have a happy childhood.   Your father died when you were five and your young mother battled.   You were passed around to relatives and never knew the happiness of a stable family life.   Yet look what you've made of yourself!   Out of the dust of disappointment and despair you created diamonds.

Look at some of those diamonds.   The best decision you took was to marry a wonderful man and now after 57 years you are still happily married.   Together you made for your children a happy family home.  You were a good wife.   I remember how you used to put on make up and make yourself look pretty before Dad came home, holding hands as you walk together and I think you still do.

You were an exceptional mother, wanting the very best for your children.   Facets of light that stand out for me:-   mashed potatoes made into snowmen with peas for eyes and carrots for a nose, shucking peas then tying the pea pod to string and pulling it around for cats to chase, Friday nights and fish and chips on the way to the drive-in, or, if it was rainy or there were no suitable movies showing, a family night together reading comics.

I remember how you made clothes for me, watching the fashions in newspapers and magazines and trying to dress your daughter in the latest trends (unfortunately your daughter was more conservative and didn't always like the latest fashions - remember tent dresses?).   Then there were the ballet and tap costumes - creativity that I didn't realise at the time but which in retrospect is quite remarkable.   I hope I've inherited some of that creativity.

But apart from family things you are a remarkable woman in your own right:   Running an very successful Guide Company for many years, serving on the training team, enabling and encouraging others.   You are a published author and a leading light in the writing community, having given courses and served in leadership positions.   You make a success of whatever you do from joining and then running trim gym to enthusiastically entering competitions for the WAA.

I am so proud that you are my mother and If I can accomplish half of what you have done in your 75 years I will be very happy.   HAPPY BIRTHDAY

Birthday Bash

 

It was going to be a birthday lunch at Cresta.   On the way the unexpected happened.   Now there's another hole in my birthday   (And in our car and soon to be in our pocket)

There's a hole in my birthday

As children we thought of birthdays as magic.   Anything was possible - nothing bad could happen.   As we grow older, we notice the holes.   The people who are no longer with us - the sadness that life has brought, dreams that have vanished like a popped bubble or just faded away like a handfull of smoke.   These make the holes.

When I was a little girl, we used to make paper doilies by cutting folded paper.   We folded a square of paper in quarters then diagonally and drew our master template on it.   This always had to start with a cross in the middle.   One arm had to go to the folded centre and the others ambled where we wished.   Then we cut out the holes.

 

What makes the pattern is the holes.   Without them we would have nothing but a plain, boring, piece of paper.   The same with my holey birthday.   Each hole is specifically shaped, not a nebulous nothing and somewhere exists or existed the substance of that hole, uniquely designed for the life that is mine.

bridgebuilding

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

The greatest science experiment

got this from the Sunday Times. It ties in so well with my book, "Noah's Diamond." I want to learn all about quarks and hadrons and gluons all over again.

http://www.thetimes.co.za/PrintEdition/Article.aspx?id=833254

Great site for doing this is http://particleadventure.org/

Gratitude

The following is an extract from Max Lucado' book, "Every Day derseves a Chance."

Excerpts from the diary of a dog:

8.00 a.m. Oh boy, dog food - my favourite.
9.30 a.m. Oh boy, a car ride - my favourite.
9.40 a.m. Oh boy, a walk - my favourite.
10.30 a.m. Oh boy, another car ride - my favourite.
11.30 a.m. Oh boy, more dog food - my favourite.
12.00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids - my favourite.
1.00 p.m. Oh boy, the yard - my favourite.
4.00 p.m. Oh boy, the kids again - my favourite.
5.00 p.m. Oh boy, dog food again - my favourite.
5.30 p.m. Oh boy, Mom, my favourite.
6.00 p.m. Oh boy, playing ball - my favourite.
8.30 p.m. Oh boy, sleeping in my master's bed - my favourite.

Exerpts from the diary of a cat:

Day 283 of my captivity. My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre litlle dangling objects. They dine lavishly on fresh meat while I'm forced to eat dry cereal. I'm sustained by the hope of escape and the mild satisfaction I derive from ruining a few pieces of furniture. Tomorrow i may eat another houseplant. I attempted to kill my captors this morning by weaving through their walking feet. Nearly succeeded. Must try this strategy at the top of the stairs. Seeking to disgust and repulse these vile oppressors, I once again induced myself to vomit on their favourite chair. Must try this on their bed. To display my diabolical disposition, I decapitated a mouts and deposited the headless body on their kitchen floor. They only cooed and condescended, patting my head and calling me a "strong little kitty". Hmm - not working according to plan. During a gathering of their accomplices, they placed me in solitary confinement. I overheard that my confinement was due to my power of allergies. Must learn what this means and how to use it to my advantage.
I am convinced the other household captives are flunkies, perhaps snitches. The dog is routinely pleased and seems natively happy to return. He is, no doubt, a half-wit. The bird speaks with the humans regularly. Must be an informant. I am certain he reports my every move. Due to his current placement in the metal cage, his safety is assured, but I can wait.

The day of a dog. The day of a cat. One content, the other conniving. One at peace, the other at war. One grateful, the other grumpy. Same house. Same circumstances."

I have always thought myself a cat person. Now I am going to work at being a dog. I would like to be grateful for all things and enjoy whatever comes my way.