Tuesday, May 24, 2011
I didn't give birth to her. I wasn't there for her first step or the first time that her hair was just long enough to pull into pigtails. I never knew when she made the basketball team in high school, and I never saw that winning shot she made at the last minute of the game. Her favorite color, her first love, her first heartbreak remain mysteries to this day. And yet, she gave me a gift that forever changed my life. Five years ago, she made me a grandmother. In the eyes of the world, she's a stepdaughter--one "step" removed. But in my eyes, the only step is the one she took into my heart--a heart that has grown big enough to love her and the precious little boy who looks up at me and says, "I love you, Grammie.".
Sunday, May 22, 2011
When my kids fussed about some cruel and unusual request that I made--do your homework, finish your laundry, make your bed--I assured them that one day they could go on Oprah and report my sins and how I had damaged their fragile psyches. I suppose that I never thought about Oprah ending her show. It goes to show how one woman became ingrained into my life through her shows and her many revelations to us. I saw her speak once when I lived in Beaumont. She is truly larger than life--personable, charming, warm and deliciously large. I can relate to a woman with hips and thighs. I can also relate to her love of books. Of the many valuable contributions that Oprah has made, one of the most important has to be her book club. I love books, and anyone who promotes reading is #1 for me. Oprah's Book Club has 70 titles. I've read 20; 50 more to go! Here's the list, http://www.usatoday.com/life/books/news/2011-05-23-Oprahs-book-club-picks_n.htm?sms_ss=email&at_xt=4dd9b21de106b2f2%2C0
How many have you read?
How many have you read?
Saturday, May 21, 2011
So, what is it about a tiny little girl in a pink tutu that makes me cry--even if it's a kid I don't know? Nameless little pixies bouncing and skipping and slinking and waving across the stage, each dancing to her own little tempo, still bring a tear to my eye. I could cover the tears with laughter because it was truly hilarious (especially the batton twirler who covered her head after pitching it upward and missing the trajectory). But when that special little princess, the one whose name I know and cherish, trotted across the stage, waving furiously and doing four dance steps that took five months to learn, I remembered again how sweet tears of joy can be. Dance little ballerina!