Last weekend. . .
This weekend . .
They came back like they do every single year, transforming our quiet neighborhood park into the Old Fashioned Festival. This is one block west of our house. One block south of our house is the carnival part, where in about half an hour the fireworks will begin. I don’t need to move from my comfy chair to see the show. I’ll watch if I’m awake.
Most of us take our hair for granted. Even if we’ve had more hair than we have, at least we’ve had some. Not all chemotherapy causes hair loss, which is why our Rachel has managed to maintain her head of gorgeous, naturally curly hair throughout treatment for cervical cancer. Only four months ago she tested clear. But early this month the same cancer was found in her lymph system, making more aggressive chemo treatment necessary.
We are sad that Rachel and John have to deal with this while trying to maintain a relatively normal life. But we’re thankful the doctor has offered her better than average odds in beating it. She’s had one treatment (every three weeks for 6 to 8 sessions) and is told she should expect to lose her hair after the next one.
So she’s making plans!
Last night we enjoyed some time at a nearby state park.
Here’s before this morning’s hair cut.
Here’s what she posted on Facebook after the haircut. Short hair will make the loss easier. Not easy but easier.
As you can imagine, Rachel is very dear to all of us. We don’t understand why this is happening to her. She is doing everything she can to make it go away. Maybe you will join us in praying that it does go away.
Quinn’s friend Karen wrote and posted on Facebook this (short) article about the ministry in Juarez—both for the babies and the house building. You might want to take a look.
Our grandkids Bailey and Marissa have already learned enough Spanish to be conversation interpreters in Juarez. Here are some projects they did for school.
When brother Howard posted some watercolor paintings on Facebook I was surprised on closer evaluation to see that they were produced with an iPhone/iPad app called waterlogue.
Not too many years ago I tried my hand at actual watercolor painting. Please note: none of my art will be displayed on this blog.
I think I’ll leave real paint for the experts.
Yesterday I carried a flattened cardboard box to the recycle Dumpster in the office parking lot when what to my wondering eyes should appear but a wall of ripe blackberries. Nostalgia hit me between the eyes, and my mother was sending me into the house to get a bowl. I had to remind her that I was “on the clock” and could pick for only 10 minutes.
At 5 o’clock I was back at the bushes with pie on my mind.
I didn’t have to twist Ruby’s arm to pick with me. Of course two-year-olds pop more berries in their mouths than in the bowl.
Looks like a pie to me.
Most would wait until the filling cooled and set. No time for that.
Just like Mother used to make.
The MacDonalds, Craig and Pam, think camping in the teardrop Craig built is the very best vacation. This alone proves we come from different planets.
I mean, it’s cute and all, and look, it even has a microwave! But where do they put their California king inflatable mattress with pillow top?
Even though I don’t understand this, I sure love these otherwise normal people.
They’re welcome to visit us any time. We offer them our guest room, but they always decline in favor of . . . you know.