Monday, April 11, 2016

Silly Schizophrenic Spring


 Silly schizophrenic spring
You need a diagnosis
Your outbursts and extreme mood swings
Show a deep psychosis

First, nor'easter winds you bring
Then it's warm and solar
Silly schizophrenic spring
I'm certain you're bipolar

We hang up coats and put on shorts
It's hot, but you're just teasing
Next day the weather app reports
 39 and freezing 


My cousin from Connecticut
Sent pictures of her daffodils
A sudden flurry buried them
Dear Spring, have you considered pills?


 

 Yet, cherry trees and butterflies
Make you irresistible
Your blooms and buds, the reason why
 We can't help but love you still

Each day we hope you'll stabilize,
Find your identity, resplendent
You might be crazy, but, surprise!
We're just as codependent!


.

Saturday, April 9, 2016

My Son's Engagement Story

The beautiful bike ride was just the beginning of our spectacular weekend. No, it wasn't full of limousine rides, front row seats, expensive dinners or yacht cruises through the harbor.

It started with a phone call from my second born son. We talked of traffic tickets and dental insurance. Then he said:

"Mom, I got the ring!"

"What? Are you still going to give it to her from the top of the Getty, when you visit LA ?"

During our conversation, he'd gotten a delivery notice of the ring.  Rather than wait for California, he planned to propose on Saturday, in between Good Friday and Easter, so as not to detract from Jesus. Sounds funny, but he was nothing but sincere.

"Text me a picture right away!" I pried. He did and it was stunning.



She is a great girl. Smart as she is witty.  Literate as Dorothy Parker, but with a softer edge. She has a solid family and loves Jesus. What more could a mom want for her son?

The next day, just after my husband saved my hat on our bike ride, we got a Facetime call. This time it was son and future daughter-in-law announcing their engagement. Here's how it went:.

There was no entourage of friends or hidden cameras, as is so popular these days. Just a simple walk in the park. It didn't hurt that the park was in the very romantic city of Charleston. The stroll's charm was not dampened by the gentle rain. In fact it made it better. A bystander took their picture. When the phone storage registered full, my son started to delete some photos. Then, in clear view to his girlfriend, there was the photo of the ring he'd sent me the previous day. She spied it and squealed.

In the drizzling rain, my son bent his knee and asked for her hand.

She said, yes, smile sparkling as bright as diamonds.

How Apple has changed our lives; down to the most non-technological thing as love! Engagements of the past would never have happened this way.

And that's ok. It just made the latest engagement in our family that much more spectacular.

Saturday, April 2, 2016

Hat Across The Water

By far, the best activity is bike riding on a Spring day. I'd been dreaming about it for weeks.


The day to bicycle presented itself perfectly. After a few storms earlier in the week, Saturday morning shone bright. I talked my husband into a bike ride around Palm Beach Island after a morning choir rehearsal. We threw the bikes in the van, packed the bike pump, sunscreen, water, bathing suits, (just in case) and headed downtown. That's right, downtown is smack dab on the intracoastal - that finger of water that borders the east coast, usually separated from the Atlantic by a narrow island or peninsula. Our hundred year old brick church sits within sight of the shimmering sea.

Rehearsal for Handel's Messiah went quite well considering a smallish choir, organ and string trio. But we had one mighty conductor in my daughter-in-law. We said our goodbye's and looked forward to singing the next day on Easter.

Then, with a few shots of air in the tires, hats tied under chins, sunglasses, we were off! Careening through a few parking lots we merged onto the main coastal road, hung a right onto the bridge over the intracoastal waters. No point in straining ourselves, we walked up the bridge, then coasted gloriously down to the island, hair flying madly in the wind.



The Lake Trail is a sidewalk that lines the west side of Palm Beach Island, mansions on the right, glittering salty waters on the left. God's blue creation on one side, gracious homes on the other. One feels cheated if you miss the view on the opposite side you're looking. There's just not a bad view in any direction. Ideally, eyes should stay on the road. There were a few close calls from ignoring that basic driving rule. Too many pretty distractions.


We rode to the north point of Palm Beach island and reached a dock next to the Singer Island Inlet. There's always wildlife or natural wonders to see. One time we saw a bulbous manatee near the shore rocks. Today the clear turquoise water revealed yellow striped and needle nose fish skirting the pylons. Hot from our ride, the water looked inviting and cool.


Then, fump! Off blew my hat into the sea. To my surprise it floated close to the dock. My husband and I exchanged worried glances and before I knew it, he was emptying his pockets and handing me car keys, wallet and receipts. Off with his shirt and my Sir Timothy dove in after my hat, which by then had drifted further from the shore. My heart burst with pride, while a young couple witnessed with amazement my husband's chivalrous act.  He grabbed the hat and swam sidestroke back to the dock. But triumph turned to discomfort quickly as he struggled against the current. His cargo shorts didn't help, adding resistance to his forward efforts. Finally, he reached the pylon for a brief rest, then paddled to the ladder.

The drama had left him winded and me worried that such a trivial thing as a hat had put my husband in danger. His toes bled from barnacle cuts. We rested, dangling feet off the dock. I surveyed the contents of Tim's pockets laying on the deck. Something was missing.

"I've got some bad news," I told him.
"What?" he asked, panting still.
"You didn't give me your cell phone before you jumped in."

Hubby reached in the lowest pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out a soggy cell phone. Bummer. The $8 hat was not going to offset the cost to replace a phone, even though it was a basic phone. And even though the hat was a momento from Saint Augustine.

Shaking it off, Taylor Swift style, we boarded our bikes for a lovely ride back along the same Lake Trail and drank in the still sunny, cotton cloud day.

I tightened my hat strings under my chin and treasured how my husband, my hero, had taken a risk and rescued my hat.

This is not me, by the way. :) But we did this.

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