UPDATE: Coleen's Nano is indeed the peanut brittle Nano, as my Colassard commenting friend has noted. She makes the best peanut brittle this side of heaven. I'm just saying. Some of you may remember that Coleen's grandmother turned 101 last September; as she has all of her adult life, she spent the entire fall making peanut brittle which she sold at craft fairs and bazaars. By "she sold" I mean, of course, that Coleen sold it for her. But make no mistake -- the brittle was all made by Nano; the recipe is top-secret. The money's all hers, too.
I will ask you all to lift up both Nano and Coleen for the next few days. Nano has entered the period of her life's final transition; I hope you will pray with me that it will be serene and peace-filled for her -- and for Coleen.
I couldn't let February get away from me without telling you that my baby, my youngest girl, my very last child, turned thirteen years old this month.
This girl has always been my funny, sunny, early Valentine -- she brightens any room with her cheery smile, her goofy sense of humor, and her flair for the dramatic pose.
Of course the important task of the big day was to get her ears pierced -- our traditional rite of passage. Her birthday was also a snow day, in advance of the Blizzard. Since we didn't know how quickly the storm would blow in, we scurried to the mall to git 'er done, rather than journey to Pincurls and the fabulous Lynda Lee.
Another tradition -- dinner and milkshakes at the Silver Diner with Coleen and her urchins -- also went by the wayside, as we all freaked out just a tiny little bit in advance of the storm. People abandoned their cars that day before a single flake ever hit the ground. It was madness, I tell you! Instead, the family celebrated with lunch at Cheeseburger in Paradise.
But even though her day did not go exactly as she thought it would, my sunny girl carried her glad heart and spunky, funky humor with her -- as she does every single day.
The child never met a rubber duck she didn't adore -- her collection is extensive, and includes glow-in-the-dark duckies, multi-colored light-up duckies, ducky pajamas, a quacking ducky trashcan (very loud, given by Coleen as payback for the time I gave the seven-year-old Jolie Blonde an extensive grown-up makeup collection), and -- troubling -- a "devil ducky," who sports cheetah spots, horns, and a very sketchy leer.
The sunny girl is surprisingly knowledgeable about ancient Egypt, and loves the one measly mummy owned by the Smithsonian, with a pure and abiding love. She and I recently traveled north to spend a day in Manhattan, and she almost passed out when she found the Egyptian collection at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
In case you were wondering, her favorite Egyptian god is Thoth, the god of science and literature. Go figure.
People, I could go on and on . . .
. . . about her graceful way of moving . . .
. . . her sacrificially loving and generous heart . . .
. . . and her loyalty as a friend.
I will just stop -- but you can see why I know without a doubt that I am the luckiest mom.
Here's her theme song, useful for brightening any day:
Last February I found these gorgeous boots, and I bought them immediately because I am a member of Bossy's Poverty Party, and thus I am very frugal. That very day, because God apparently loves the frugal, I fell down the stairs and got another style of boot:
I got to wear this bad boy for, oh, about twelve weeks and three and one fourth days, if I had to give you a rough estimate. The time just flew by! My doctor also gave me the excellent news that I have a genetic blah-blah, which causes the bones in my blah to blah-blah: to sum up I am a foot mutant, and will probably break my foot again which will require surgery, and by the way, about wearing all those glamour shoes in my closet? Not so much. I paraphrase.
Not that I have much opportunity for glamour shoes, but it's nice to dream, and there has never been a day so bad that a kicky little pair of red pumps didn't make it seem just a small bit brighter. I wear these while I'm gardening.
Well, last week I defied the medical skeptics and (dramatic pause) wore the new boots! So far I have lived through the ordeal. The praise for my footwear was epic at the middle school back-to-school night, let me tell you. [Like my oldest girl's toes?]
When my oldest daughter started out in Little League baseball, she began with a couple of strikes against her (heh! see, I'm talking about baseball . . . . ? strikes . . . .? heh!). She was the youngest person in her division. As a girl who wore glasses she had some batting helmet issues. Here's a tip: the combination of helmet, glasses, and pony-tail contains one element too many. Get rid of any one and you're good to go. And as a shy person, she didn't like the idea of all those people looking at her when she batted. Her coach's goal was for her to make it through a complete game without crying. The day she accomplished this goal, he awarded her the game ball.
This week she completed her first season playing on her high school's softball team, and I just cannot tell you how proud I am of her. Never having been athletic able to put one foot in front of the other without breaking a limb myself, I am so impressed with anyone who can show such grace and strength simultaneously. She's a wonder to me! At the end-of-season party, she was named her high school team's MVP, and I can't wait to tell her Little League coach! He'll be so proud.
tangent: Throughout my life all my BFFs have been athletes. Gymnasts, swimmers, runners, basketball phenoms . . . . I love and applaud them all, as long as they don't make me put down my book.
. . . . Nano.
