I’m So Embarrassed

As I told you in my last post, June was a big month for us. Bob retired and we did some traveling. Looking back on that post, I realized there was more to tell than our effort to have steamed crabs for dinner. In hindsight it seemed wrong that I didn’t mention how proud I was of Bob as I attended his retirement luncheon. (I was extremely proud.) The words “workhorse” and “finisher” were among the many accolades he received.

It also seemed wrong that I didn’t focus on our family being together for the first time in years. We witnessed our youngest grandson seeing the grandeur of the ocean for the first time and take those first tentative steps into the water. Our eight grandchildren totally enjoyed their cousin time, and our kids and kids-in-law were reunited over approximately 300 games. Yes, we are gamers, and yes, I tend to exaggerate. We only brought 30 games (and all but about 2 were played).

I also didn’t tell you about our trip to Stanardsville, Virginia, Williamsburg or Monticello, but there’s time for that later. By now you understand the power steamed crabs has over me. It’s a little embarrassing that they were the first thing I wrote about. In all fairness, though, they were really good, and we hadn’t polished off a table full of crabs in a coon’s age! Even now, a month after we got out the mallets and crab crackers, I can still close my eyes and smell Old Bay Seasoning. (I may need to talk to my doctor about that.)

Oops, there I go again. Back to the family – there were 18 of us gathered in Hilton Head. Our 8 grandchildren range from 2.5 to 18 years old. The power of family was on full display as these kids embraced each other. There is something special about cousins. Even with this wide range of ages, the interactions were sweet (and noisy). Watching the older cousins care for and play with the younger was a gift to me. How I wish we all lived close to each other! But how thankful I am that we can be together despite distance.

They are all pretty cute and amazing, so I’ve included a few pictures of them. Trust me, I could have really bogged down this post with pictures, but I want you to keep reading.

The Beach from crazy to serene

Being a mom to Bob’s and my four kids has been the joy of my life. When grandchildren were added, my cup literally ran over with happiness. One thing I have really missed since we all haven’t lived in the same locale, is having an Easter Egg Hunt for the kids. My mom started doing those backyard hunts when my kids were young, and I have taken up the mantle, though sporadically now. When there are only two local grandkids and they’re both teenagers, a bit of the thrill of the hunt is missing. My two youngest grandkids had never participated in the hunt! I saw my opportunity for our June gathering. As Christians, we celebrate the resurrection of Christ every day, so why not do an egg hunt in June.

Who remembers The Unknown Comic from The Gong Show? I present, the Unknown Egg Hunters.

I have kept the plastic eggs over the years and had over a hundred of them. Even with the help of our kids and their spouses, it took a little while to hide them all. But at last, we lined up the grands and the hunt began. We released them by age to even the playing field. That Anderson competitive blood flows through their veins and they were off. Eggs and children were everywhere. At the end of the hunt, prizes were chosen.

We also did a jigsaw puzzle competition. Ella (our second grandchild) is a huge fan of Marvel, as am I. When I came across 48-piece puzzles in a tin with Marvel superheroes gracing the front, I made it my business to find 6 of them. It took four different stops to realize my goal, but I did it.

Our eldest grandson, Manning, and his mom came in first place

I am relatively sure I was much more excited about these puzzles and the whole competition to complete them than anyone else. Did they not realize that each puzzle came with an infinity stone? The older six grandchildren each chose an adult to team with them and the games began. When Layna (the youngest competitor) chose Bob, I felt like they were a shoo-in. Honestly, when it comes to puzzles, he is a ringer. But I hadn’t counted on them getting The Incredible Hulk, which is mostly a mass of green. At least they didn’t get angry when they came in last.

Jett enjoys finishing before Bob (Bumpa)

Games and puzzles and walks on the beach with our tribe are tucked away in my memory. I smile when I think of this group of people whom I love more than I can describe. I’m thankful that God made families and thankful that he gave us each one of ours.

Hilton Head sunset

Graduation

There comes a time in every kid’s life when their parents embarrass them. (Many times would be more accurate.) But there are also times when that kid is ready for it, craving it, even welcoming hearing their name shouted by those who love them. Graduations are at the top of those occasions.

Mia

There was a discussion as to how our family would respond when our granddaughter Mia crossed the stage to receive her high school diploma. Would we whoop and holler? Might that embarrass her; was that our goal? Would there be instructions to save applause until after the last graduate? Would we follow those instructions? (Absolutely not!)

Mia’s was 33rd from the last name called on that sunny May morning. Having been an Anderson for over 45 years, I’ve grown accustomed to having our names called early, but our daughter Dena married a man that took her to the back of the alphabet. Talk about adjustments!

The “A” part of the alphabet was almost complete when the man in front of me jumped up and cheered. That sure looked like a proud papa! I patted him on the shoulder and congratulated him. Then I joked, “Are you going to duck out now?”

“Nope,” he replied. “That’s not my kid. I was just helping the couple in front of me.”

I didn’t even hear the couple in front of him.

Somewhere in the “J’s” he again cheered loudly. The lady and her son to our right gave a nice round of applause at the same time.

I asked, “Is that one yours?”

“Nope. Just adding support,” he said as he looked to my right.

“Who is yours?”

“Mine is Jenna in the “M” section. And I’m not her dad. I’m her uncle. I’ve been to all my nieces’ and nephews’ graduations.”

His sister looked at us and smiled. I’m not sure if she was prouder of Jenna or of her brother, who by now had a following of his own.

Jenna’s uncle

We joined them in shouting for Jenna M, and Jenna’s uncle helped us in our celebration as Mia crossed the stage. Mia heard us and there was no embarrassment, just a feeling of being loved and supported.

There was such a sense of community, mutual support, and hope as we sat on those bleachers watching the next generation. I am confident that Mia has a bright future in store for her with a lot of surprises along the way. She trusts in God, and that is the best way to walk into her future. We are so proud of her!

Bob and I with Mia – May 29, 2021

Seasons and Sneezins (or Issues with Tissues)

When Bob and I were first married back in 1975, our budget didn’t allow for frivolous items such as Kleenex or napkins. We bought toilet paper and paper towels, and they did double-duty, i.e. paper towels were used for napkins and toilet paper was used for Kleenex. Of course, never reused, especially after attending to the “duties” of life. (I thought I’d throw the word “duty” in there for my adult kids who still smile or chuckle when they hear the word. Confession: I do, too. Duty.)

Kleenex, like the word Xerox, is a brand name, which I was not aware of until I had to shop on my own and realized there was a generic version of tissues at a friendlier price. I have retrained myself to call them tissues out of respect to all the tissues who were miscalled Kleenex. That’s a lot to bear for a product. I’ve been called by my sisters’ names for my entire life, so I know how they feel.

Early on, I only bought tissues for “company.” Bob and I continued to unroll T.P. whenever our noses ran, but I would draw the line at getting a roll out for guests wearing short sleeves who happened to sneeze while they visited us. That, my friends, is what hospitality looks like.

Photo by Anna Shvets on Pexels.com

By the time we were raising our four children, I saw the wisdom of having real tissue boxes instead of the kids unrolling toilet paper every time they had colds. I was smart enough to dole them out as needed.

When I became a grandmother and the kids or grandkids got sick, I would send care packages consisting of Lysol, Gatorade and tissues, because I knew they would not own a box of tissues. They had to go through the toilet paper for Kleenex stage of their life like all of us do. By this season of my life I bought tissues from Costco, so I always had plenty.

Fast forward: Bob and I became empty nesters in 2015. We kept that title for about eight months before a parade of friends and family lived with us off and on culminating in my parents moving in back in 2017. Mom continues to live here.

We’ve been helping support our elderly parents for ten years, and we’ve learned a lot. One of the most important things is that you can never have enough tissues and it better be the good stuff. None of this sandpaper-rough one-ply garbage.

Mom told me she was running low on Kleenex (she doesn’t use the word tissues and that’s okay). I pulled the remaining three boxes from the linen closet and gave them to her. Before I handed them off, I said, “You can take the box from the kitchen if you want.”

She likes having a box there. That generation likes having a box everywhere. I’ve learned that this is part of their wisdom. They don’t move as quickly as we do, and a sneeze can surprise you. Nobody wants that.

Out of curiosity, I thought I’d take inventory of our boxes that are in use. Now I, too, have had my eyes opened to the wisdom of having tissues around. Not only for sneezes, but sad movies and books, bad news on the phone, watching the nightly news – all of these can have me reaching for a tissue.

Counting the boxes was one of those moments of self-assessment and contemplation. I have lived through so many different tissue seasons in my life. I’ve gone from zero boxes, to one or two, and now to ten open boxes of tissues. Ten!

Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

What has happened to me, I asked myself. I must be either a hoarder or we’re a family of perpetually runny-nosed people. There is a box in each of our three bathrooms. (Since COVID, I don’t want people using our precious toilet paper for anything except its designated use.) Basically, any place where someone can sit or lie down in our house has a trusty box of tissues right there.

Is this the person I have become? A hoarder or one who lives in fear of runny noses or errant sneezes and panics over the thought of unpreparedness?

Or perhaps there is a third option. Maybe I’ve simply entered into a new tissue season – one that could involve having tissues up my sleeve at the ready for whatever the day may bring.

Nay. I refuse to go there. I will never be that woman. I may be what Southerners call a “seasoned” citizen and I am a magician’s daughter, but you will not find me pulling anything out of my sleeve no matter what the future may bring.

I don’t mind getting older, but thinking that I could be on the precipice of that time of my life where tissues have such elevated importance is enough to make me cry, but no worries, I have tissues right here beside me.

Joy in the Little Things

There was joy in Target this week as I ventured there to make a quick purchase, which of course I could not find. No big deal though as I strolled down the cereal aisle and found this!

It takes me back to raising my kids when anything Star Wars was an extra treat. I believe the force was with me, guiding me to find the only remaining Mandalorian Cereal in Central Florida!

I had to go through an asteroid field to get to the cash register, but I assure you that no people were injured during the purchase of this cereal. To me, that was a little Christmas present.

I was also super excited earlier this month when I found Elf Cereal. I snatched up two boxes – one for each set of grandkids that I’d see in December. I’m not sure who gets more excited about it, them or me. Honestly, it’s probably me, and that’s just fine. It truly is the little things.

With that in mind, I present:

An Ode to Cereal

Twas the week of Christmas; I was in my car

Shopping for presents, both close-by and far;

I stopped in a Target and there on the shelf –

Mandalorian Cereal – so proud of myself.

The grandkids are coming much to my delight;

But only one box might just trigger a fight.

No worries, they’ll share. It’ll all be just fine,

With Santa Claus coming they wouldn’t dare whine.

Besides there are other breakfast treats, it’s true.

Like this pretty green box of Elf Cereal. Whew!

These are two of the small things that bring me great joy.

To me they’re better than a fancy big toy.

The grandkids may protest and might make a face,

So we bought them other presents, just in case.

Target wasn’t the only joy filled store for me this week. I waited at the check-out in Publix as the store manager bagged my groceries. One of the employees came up to him:

“There’s no soap in the ladies room. I mean no soap. Like somebody took the soap dispenser.”

“That’s a new one,” he replied. “I think we have a spare. Who does that kind of thing?”

I replied, “I’m not sure who did it, but one thing’s for sure. You’ll never find them because they got away clean.”

Merry Christmas!

The Old Family Recipe

The year was 1975, I was a newlywed and would be spending my first Thanksgiving with my in-laws and away from my family. What would the holiday be like without my mom’s stuffing, not to mention without my mom and dad? I’m not one to be dramatic, but it just wouldn’t be Thanksgiving.

Bob never really cared about stuffing. This was one of the many ways we differed. To me, the stuffing was of more importance than the turkey, which simply served as an elaborate, weird, stuffing cooking device. I never thought about how disgusting it was for people to prepare food to be inserted into a turkey cavity, only to be scooped out of said cavity and served in a fancy china bowl to their loved ones. Pretty gross, but I digress

By mid-October 1975, I was contemplating making my own stuffing, but alas that was among the many, many things that I was clueless as to how to cook. I waited until a Sunday afternoon to call my mom for help. (This was way before cell phones, and long-distance calls were cheaper on Sundays.) In those days, we corresponded via letter through the Post Office, so she said she’d send me the recipe.

Mom’s letter outlined the intricacies of her prized stuffing. I wish I could tell you that I made it and it turned out great, but I chickened (or maybe turkeyed) out. In hindsight it was probably a good thing that I didn’t try to compete with my Home Economics mom-in-law’s cornbread stuffing. What woman wants her cocky new daughter-in-law to bring in a superior stuffing as a holiday icebreaker? And in my hands, who was to say it would have been superior, or even edible? But when I tasted hers that Thanksgiving afternoon, I understood why Bob wasn’t wild about it, and shed a little tear as I thought about what used to be.

Forty-five years later, I still have that letter. It is precious to me. Every year I get it out and read it. I love hearing how my nephew, their first grandchild, walked for the first time. It’s a sweet walk down memory lane. I have often thought I should frame it and hang it on my wall.

Since that time, I have made this stuffing dozens of times, and Bob loves it. I’ve tweaked the recipe a little, but it’s basically the same. My sister, Chris, and my daughter Dena both continue with this same recipe. It’s a cherished family tradition.

This Thanksgiving my mom sat at our kitchen table and watched me chopping celery and onions and making bread cubes. We chatted and I read her the letter. “This recipe is from Aunt Audrey, isn’t it?” I asked.

“I don’t think so,” Mom replied. “I think I got it out of the Betty Crocker Cookbook.”

“No, no, no. It’s from Aunt Audrey – not Betty Crocker. It’s a family recipe! I think I remember you telling me that,” I pleaded.

“I’m pretty sure it’s from Betty Crocker,” she said.

I was crestfallen. Betty Crocker! I’d been living a lie my entire married life! I spiraled into an identity crisis wondering if this woman sitting here was really my mom. Could Betty Crocker be my mother? Did she abandon me at birth and present me to my “parents” along with a recipe for turkey stuffing?

I pulled my own Betty Crocker Cookbook from the shelf. It was a wedding present and taught me a lot, but I didn’t want to give Betty credit for the family recipe. I wanted that to be from Mom or at least Aunt Audrey. But there it was on page 281 of my tattered cookbook.

I read from the book and then read from Mom’s letter. I had to admit they were the same. “…Turn into deep bowl. Add remaining ingredients…”

I looked at my mother, who was unphased by the unearthing of the largest plagiarism plot I had ever been exposed to, and said, “Why didn’t you just tell me it was on page 281?”

I guess we’ll never know. Please, don’t tell my sister and Dena. Sometimes it’s better to live with a wonderful illusion.

Veterans Day 2020

On this Veterans Day 2020, a fitting commentary to this year was provided by our American flag. It typically flies proudly from the roof in our front yard, but yesterday I found it on the sidewalk, slightly worn and tattered. It looks like it was pulled off its bracket by winds no doubt related to Tropical Storm/Hurricane Eta, which is traveling up the west coast of Florida. (I should add that it is late in this busiest-on-record hurricane season. We’ve used up the alphabet and moved into Greek. I’m not even surprised, 2020, but I digress.)

It’s been a rough year for our flag, which sadly will no longer see the light of day. But I still love it and all for which it stands. Flags can be replaced – they are just symbols, after all. But today I am thinking about people whom I love who fought for what that flag represents. Specifically, I’m reminiscing about my dad, Arthur L. Manning, Jr., and my uncle, Luther C. Cox.

My dad was a gunner in a B-29 in the Pacific campaign. During part of his tour, a war correspondent, Richard Tregaskis from the Saturday Evening Post, flew with his crew. My dad’s face is one of the young men surrounding Tregaskis in a featured picture in the series of articles entitled Road to Tokyo.

I don’t remember hearing much about the war when I was a kid. Perhaps it was because memories can be painful, or more likely it was because I was a kid and didn’t ask. In Dad’s golden years, though, he’d talk freely. He kept up with his crew or their widows until he was the only one left. So much so that their names were familiar to me. I am sure he was the last of them because he was the one who kept them together in each other’s hearts and minds all those decades after the war. Dad died three years ago at the age of 94. In the last years of my memories of him, he’s always wearing his hat. He was a proud veteran and loved his country fiercely.

Uncle Luther was a navigator of a B-24 bomber in World War II. He survived the crash of the “Double Trouble” when he was shot down over the Mediterranean Sea on a cold January day in 1943. For the next two years and three months, he would be a guest of the Fuhrer; but he survived that, too. He retired an Air Force lieutenant-colonel and went on to teach ROTC at Orlando’s Oak Ridge High School. Also surviving his internment was his journal, which was featured in the Florida magazine of The Orlando Sentinel on June 24, 1984. He published a book, Always Fighting the Enemy, a World War II Chronicle, which includes writings and drawings from his journal along with stories he kept in his heart.

Uncle Luther in Italy

I spent a lot more time with my uncle after I was married because we lived in the same state. He was ten years to the day older than my mom, and we celebrated their birthdays together. He was kind of a legend to me. I was and still am in awe of his surviving being shot down and all that time in POW camps. There is so much about him to admire. He and his wife adopted two children from Europe and brought them home to the states. I have many fond memories with Mark and Dee, and even though we live in opposite corners of the country, we visit with Dee and her husband about once a year. Thanks, Uncle Luther!

On October 31, Bob and I went to the Lockheed Martin Space and Air Show here in Sanford with our son and his family. I was pumped to see the Thunderbirds, but I had no idea that the entire program was going to thrill my heart and stir up so many patriotic juices. At the beginning of the show, several new Air Force recruits were sworn in, which moved me to tears.

Following is a little glimpse of the air show. Enjoy; and God, bless America!

It was a little loud for our grandsons.

The Importance of Knowing What’s Important

There’s been a lot of important stuff going on this past week. So many special days to celebrate! National Daughter Day. National Son Day. Drink a Beer Day. Coffee Day. Whew, it’s been busy.

I’m not sure who started this national craze, but now that the train has left the station, there is no telling how many national days lie ahead.

I do know that the first Thursday of May celebrates a National Day of Prayer. The way 2020 is going, I think we should extend that into a National Year of Prayer.

I’ve done my research so you can be prepared to celebrate the daylights out of October. Get ready. Today is National Black Dog Day, National Hair Day, Fire Pup Day, and National Homemade Cookies Day (at last something I can sink my teeth into).

The list for the month is extensive and you can find it if you click here.

Some of my favorites are:

  • National Produce Misting Day, Oct 2 (Is once a year enough?)
  • World Smile Day, Oct 4 (challenging due to COVID)
  • National Get Funky Day, Oct 5 (necessary due to COVID – Spread a little sunshine.)
  • National Greasy Food Day, Oct 25 (Do we need a day for this?)
  • National Hermit Day, Oct 29 (simple due to COVID)
  • National Candy Corn Day, Oct 30 (I don’t get this one. Why waste my sugar calories on candy corn when M&Ms are available?)

This is lots of fun, but the trouble with all these national days is, in my humble opinion, if everything is important then perhaps nothing is. Do I need a day to celebrate my sons and daughters? We used to call that their birthdays. Am I less of a mom because I didn’t pen a fitting tribute to these wonderful people? I’m going with a big NO. I will tell you, though, just for the record, God has blessed me with the most wonderful children and now children-in-law and grandchildren. I think they know that’s how I feel even if I don’t participate in National Days of tribute to them. (To quote Seinfeld, “Not that there’s anything wrong with that!”)

What’s most important to me is remembering how important the truly important is. That would include The Four F’s:

  1. Faith in God
  2. Family
  3. Friends
  4. Fellow man

Whatever we can do to celebrate these is okay with me.

And while we’re adding in National Days, perhaps we could make this day the “National Day to Share Bonnie’s Blog Day.” While that’s not truly important, I could celebrate that!

My parents in front of the church where they were married,

which is the church we attended when I was a baby.

Photo taken 2007

Face-to-Face and Loving It

I don’t want to dwell on the Corona, but it’s challenging not to have it affect everything in life right now. Even my faith is affected but in a good way. I am reminded that God has everything under control and my seeming control of any situation may be just that – seeming. I am constantly talking to myself about how I serve a good God and he cares for me (and you!). Recently when I had a near miss from a car t-boning me, I was reminded that there is a lot of danger out there besides Corona – a lot that I am not afraid of even though the possibility of “bad things” happening to me is (as it was that morning) just around the corner.

When my sweet husband suggested that I go see our kids and grandkids in the Carolinas before school starts, I was hesitant at first. The internal debate began, but I felt like it was a good idea to go. Bob knew how much it would mean to me and them. I married well.

I set out on a Sunday morning for a week of real live, face-to-face time and hugs. It was medicinal. From Oliver, the youngest (21 months), to Mia, the oldest (17), I received plenty of hugs to warm my soul. It had been only a few weeks since Bob and I helped our son move, so Oliver needed no adjustment time. He is active and cute and squishy. I’m so thankful they are closer to us now.

The biggest reward of the trip was surprising our daughter’s kids. She wisely didn’t tell them I was coming because no plans are set in stone nowadays. My last trip had to be canceled and we didn’t want to make 8-year-old Layna cry again. Mia is recovering from knee surgery, and when she came down the hall on her crutches and saw me standing in the foyer, she hugged me and cried. She’s been through a lot and is recovering well.

I would have been satisfied hanging around the house with the family, but Dena thought we needed some adventure. Adventure that would take face-to-face to another level. She, Layna, and I headed for The Lazy 5 Ranch in Mooresville, NC.

Here is where the meaning of face-to-face ratcheted up a notch or ten. I’ll admit that I wasn’t really excited about our prescribed adventure, but it sounded like the perfect thing to do with Layna while the older kids were occupied with a church outing. Plus, I can never resist hanging out with her.

The greeting committee at The Lazy 5 is well-chosen.

They do not understand the words “social distancing” and are hungry for interaction – especially interaction with someone who might have a bucket of feed.

On my initial encounter with this wild bunch, I thought to myself – this is how The Beatles must have felt when they went out in public. It felt a little dangerous. I felt slightly violated to have large heads and hard beaks invade my space. But I couldn’t stop laughing. That was the best part.

Layna was hesitant at first but she warmed right up to feeding the animals.

Dena made fast friends with a hungry, aggressive ostrich.

 

We were told not to feed the zebras. Evidently they like to bite. My window seemed to be going up in slow motion as I wondered if I was going to be additional evidence of why one doesn’t feed the zebras. This is my mildly panicking face. Dena said it went up a notch after she took this picture.

When was the last time you laughed with people? I mean that deep, belly laugh that makes you tired afterward in the most contented and happy way?

I highly recommend this adventure. I highly recommend any adventure that will reconnect you with people and allow laughter and love to flow. (I know, I know. I’m not advocating throwing caution to the wind. Being safe right now is all you hear about, and we should keep that in mind. But think outside of the box. Think outside. Outside is good.)

 

Proverbs 17:22 – A happy heart is good medicine and a joyful mind causes healing, but a broken spirit dries up the bones. (Amplified Bible)

 

The Lazy 5 Ranch is a drive-through safari. “The purpose of the Lazy 5 Ranch is to educate in an entertaining way, as well as provide an excellent environment for the reproduction of some of God’s most unique creatures. The Lazy 5 Ranch also seeks to help the recovery of several endangered species including the Grevy Zebra, Scimitar Horned Oryx and Ring-tailed Lemur.”

 

 

How’s Your Summer Going?

Is it getting to you yet? The constant reminders to be safe? The debate of masks or no masks? The fears that are controlling us more that any virus could?

I’ll be honest – it gets to me, at least sometimes. We took a road-trip to South Carolina to help our son and his family with their move from Michigan. That was a wonderful diversion. We hadn’t seen them in a year and the boys have grown so much. There was no place I would have rather been – nothing I would rather have been doing than helping them move and spending some time with them. Even in 97-degree, South Carolina heat, it was so worth all the sweat and sore muscles just to see them face-to-face.

These two!

It was wonderful, except for when I needed to use a restroom while on the road. You’ve never seen desperate until you’ve seen a full-grown woman pounding on the door of McDonald’s to beg the people inside to open the dining room just long enough for her to use the restroom. They gave me the same empty stare I’ve seen over so many masked noses and mouths. No sympathy. No compassion. No entry.

I’ll admit that was a low point, but I got through it. Now that we’re back home and into our usual/unusual routine, I find that some days I’m ready to jump out the window, then I remember we live in a one-story house. Then I remember I’m 64 and would likely hurt myself even from that height and I don’t like pain. Then I remember if I make a mess, I’d have to clean it up. Then I remember I have a lot of time on my hands right now so what’s one more mess to clean up in an effort to make my point. Then I remember I’ve worked hard at avoiding work, so I go take a nap.

Always the careful one, first I calculate the risk.

 

It looks like a medium risk of at least scraping myself or getting dirty from the window ledge. Not worth it.

So, how’s your summer going?

***********

I remind myself:

“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.” Psalm 16:6

 

We are Puzzled

Usually summer is a time to kick back, relax by the pool, go to the beach, visit with family and friends, take a vacation, and so much more. For our family it also means game playing and jigsaw puzzles. But this is not the usual summer. While still able to do many of the above-mentioned things, we have done an exorbitant amount of puzzles. In all fairness, though, that began back in March. We took a little break during June as our eyes were glazing over after doing a couple of 1000 piecers with writing on them so small we had to use magnifiers, but the puzzling continued after that short respite.

As I’ve mentioned before, puzzles are in short supply around the country. We have borrowed and lent out puzzles. We have done every puzzle in our closet with the exception of the holiday/winter ones. I have even gotten in a virtual line at http://www.libertypuzzles.com to purchase a single puzzle. They simply cannot keep up. It took two weeks before my name made it to the top of the list and then I had 24 hours to place my order – one per customer. It is due to arrive this week. I’m so excited. Yes, it’s come to that. I’m excited about getting a new puzzle.

Also, my favorite local used bookstore, BrightLight Books, has taken some of my puzzles on trade (or they’ll pay you a reduced price – http://www.brightlightbooks.com). I love that store and they were happy to have the puzzles which caused eyestrain to Bob and me.

Picking out the perfect puzzle to reflect the mood of the day can be challenging. When I saw this Blockbuster puzzle, it took me back to 1975, the year I was married; and people were impacted in such a great way by a single movie that the beaches were a lot less crowded that year.

Of course we had to go birding. This 1000-piece puzzle about did us in. I’m sure someone has bought it by now and is cursing the day they did – unless, of course, they are under 40.

 

Yellowstone National Park and Grand Canyon National Park were on our puzzle travel list.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We did a quick pass of all the major national parks as well.

 

 

 

Bob wanted to go to the place where golf was invented. No problem.

I insisted on more bird watching.

We really loved our trip to Utah which we took two years ago. It was nice to revisit.

But I don’t know what I was thinking when we did the map of Bryce Canyon. Maps, maps, maps. Sigh… Bob wouldn’t let me quit though, even though the printing on the puzzle was miniscule.

This was as tall as we let our tower of puzzles get. Oh, this is not all that we did, but it is still a fun memory.

 

Enjoy your summer as best you can. We have a lot to be thankful for, and if you’re in my area, you can always stop by and borrow a puzzle.