The Word is.... I've been asked by some folks to leave the Donation button up on the blog. So, I have. It's over on the left there. I've also removed the dollar amount. If you'd like to make a donation, you can give as much or as little as you want. And I'll be having another raffle in May, I think. I just need to talk to the boss and see if I can get them to donate some prizes. I'll let you know what they are when I get them. I promise...TOMORROW...I will post my pictures of my trip to New Hampshire. But tonight, I gotta do my essays. Ok? Cool! First Essay is for the Featured_Grownups site: Family Traditions When I was growing up if you were too sick for school you were too sick for anything else... you had to stay in your PJs and lay on the couch; you would eat only chicken soup or milk toast Do you recall traditions from your childhood or some that you brought your children up with --bedtime rituals, weekend routines perhaps..things you found out just your family did? Funny that you mentioned sickness in the example. See, that would be a prime one in my family. When we were kids, we were the cleanest sick kids on the planet. I would have a raging temperature and Mom would go into action. She would draw a wicked hot bath, suitable for warming the bones--because let's face it, a temperature can leave you cold inside and shivering. Mom would put us in that hot bath and let the steam get inside the nose, warm from the inside, help break the fever. In the meantime, she'd put fresh sheets on the bed, nice covers to keep you warm. Then, she'd make a hot toddy (non-alcoholic of course) with honey and cinnamon and juice or tea. When everything was ready, the bath would have cooled a bit...and it was time to come out. She'd bring a towel and rub me down, leaving my skin red from the bath and the friction. Then a good, warm, soft pair of flannel jammies and back into bed I'd go before the chill of the air could hit me. I'd drink my toddy and Mom would tuck me in. I'd sleep and sleep and sleep until the fever broke for good, then we'd do it all over again. Amazing how much the comfort of it still goes with me...even now. When I get sick, I'm in the shower a few times with the water as hot as I can stand it. Or a bath. Of course, I have to make my own hot toddy--and I can have booze now.  We were a very touchy-feely family, you see. When I was growing up, if you passed within hand's reach...you got patted or hugged. It's just how we were. You knew you were loved, in my family. I remember having my hair stroked, my shoulder or my fanny patted, my arm patted, my cheek kissed. The affection was pure and sweet. I never realized until later that it just wasn't done out in the world, that other families weren't as quick to display such affection. Or with friends. We did that too--hugging and kissing cheeks. Very European, I hear. But not with my friends...it tended to get me looked at rather oddly. When Lady_Songbird came to be with me for Mom's funeral, she made the observation about our meals not being something she was familiar with. I have to admit, ours are rather lively affairs. We have fun at dinner, with jokes and laughter. And if there's music, we sing along. And tell stories. There's banter and fun, not just food and quiet. We had gone out to eat after the first viewing...and here we are in the restaurant, telling stories of how we grew up and memories of Mom. And a song would come on and my brother CW would start singing and then we'd all be singing. It was loud and boisterous, and the stories were amusing and full of love. Not your typical funerary family. But then, there wasn't really a reason to be, you know. After all, if you truly believe in a better after life, then how can you be in such grief for someone. I grieve because of my loss because I miss her. I miss my Mom so much that it hurts some days. But I know she's so much happier where she is. I know that she's full of love with her family. Something else that always set us apart. And that's just scratching the surface. But that will do for now.
And then, for the Kween_of_the_Queens Essay:
What's the most romantic gift you've ever received? The Parameters: Gift can also mean a verbal / or written,anything that comes unexpected, a gift which is not for a special occasion like birthday xmas etc. Something that's totally out of the blue! Oh, that's an easy one, actually. The most romantic gift I've ever received was a very simple one; Sean wrote a song for me. It is one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard--because he wrote it. He plays a very passable guitar, thank you. And he has a beautiful tenor voice. On my last birthday, he woke me with a lovely breakfast in bed--french toast with glazed pecans and cream and maple syrup, coffee, juice, and a beautiful bouquet of gardenias. And he sat down and started playing. He knows I love John Denver and Dan Fogelberg...so he sang a song by each first. Then, he started singing this song he'd written. I couldn't help but tear up because it really is quite sweet. My dear "trained pole climbing monkey" who says he's about as refined as crude oil has a very Shelleyan streak in him. But then, he's very well educated, even though he thinks he isn't. And he has a lovely sensitivity for a straight male...even if he balls his socks and leaves his stinky shorts on the floor. And he's about as stubborn as a granite rock. But he wrote me a beautiful song. And he sings it to me sometimes. And I melt like buttah! And there you have my essays.  Write on, Fellow Babies.
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Mom put us to bed and made a kind of chicken broth gruel. If Grandma was around, she would say "The young'un needs a cleaning out," and out came the castor oil. Yuck.
