PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU LOOK AT THE PHOTOS. :)

Well, my daughter, Liza-Anne is now Mrs. Robert Roberts.

It is amazing that Liza, who was born in Africa, and Robert, who now resides in Utah, after being adopted at age eleven, met and fell madly in love.

She is our middle child who always acted as the peace maker, never wanting to rock the boat or bother anyone or upset apple carts. So, since she was so sweet, we always wanted to please her.  Therefore, at first, she wanted everything simple, so that her parents didn't have to go to much trouble...:)

But what she ended up having, exceeded her highest expectations.  And, fortunately for me, especially since I was housebound for six crucial weeks, I didn't have to do much of anything, except to dole out my husband's money as we went along. A young couple in our church, who have a beautiful house, offered their garden to have the ceremony in. Liza had suggested the botanical gardens, but when the house was offered, we jumped at the chance, because there wouldn't be other people milling around.

Then Cheryl, the same lady, and her mother, Pat, went to town, shopping for everything, telling us what they needed, and arranging the whole thing with such precision and class. They were used to more opulent affairs, having lived in California and gone to a very large church. But they toned it down to match our pocket and it still turned out beautifully.

I was honored and nervous when she asked me to write an original poem for them and read it at the wedding.  This is how it turned out:

THEIR HEART’S RHYME

 

Over the miles in ’86, the Lord knew whom she’d need

To love and woo her on the appointed day

So He sewed the seeds…

 

Liza-Anne, born in Africa; Robert, across the sea

Way over in the United States

His parents smiled with glee.

 

Little did each know, that God, his grace unending

Had prepared these two lone hearts

To find a love transcending

 

Obstacles are nothing to God; they never pose a problem

For nothing is impossible

There is no failing in Him

 

For Robert also had a hole that only love could fill

For his parents had prayed for the Lord

To fully have his will

 

And send, graciously, their son, in His perfect time

The woman who would meet his needs

Fulfilling his heart’s rhyme

 

Liza’s family moved one way; Robert’s the other

Until one day, astoundingly

They’d meet one another

 

The day after meeting her, he asked her father, boldly

If he could escort this lovely girl

To dinner and some bowling

 

The rest is all history, for, as you see today

She is standing before witnesses

Daddy giving her away

 

Into the arms of he who asked for her, his destiny

Trusting that the Lord will bless -

This holy matrimony.

 

Bonnie, for Liza-Anne and Robert on their wedding day, July 11, 2009.

I am sorry but I have to quit right now, so mull this part over and I will continue later.

Love you all

bonnie

 

 

Oh frabjous day! Callooh, callay!

That about summed up everything I had to say on the subject of the weather last night, which still seems to be going on today.

It snowed. It snowed gloriously. Friend, friend's husband, and I were hanging out watching a movie, and husband got a call from the local police department. They've declared "no unnecessary travel" for the town, and are in fact ticketing any and every one that they find driving downtown.

This is a good snowstorm.

I planned to leave friend's and go to bed. Upon stepping outside the shelter of her porch, I was immediately enraptured. This is snow. This is home. Well, like home, anyway.

I've been missing Minnesota on some deeper levels lately. Spring arrives so differently in the Great Plains than the Rockies. Evidently up here, it's a lot of stops and starts. Back home, winter arrives, makes a nest, and only a very impressive thaw might budge it. Even then, it will only be for a few weeks. So, when Spring DOES arrive, there's a great internal celebration. The warm winds drying out the earth and the smell of grass, new earth, new life all make me want to run! Running for sheer joy - not to escape anything, but because you're so filled with joy that you can't hold still.

But this...this was a snowstorm. We don't actually get snow quite like this around my neck of the woods very often. We get the occasional whiteout, and we get inches upon inches, but big heavy snow like this...I was half-certain that Lake Superior was just over the next hill.

I went for a walk. Originally, I stopped by Signscout's (his hall is between friend's house and mine), just to say hi - he was about to head for bed, and then the girls came by...which means he won't be going to bed for a few hours yet. They're both friendly and loud. It was determined that snowplay was in order.

I snarfed my gloves and boots and went back out, but for some reason I only played for a minute before ducking around the twins' house and heading up the street. This is the sort of snowfall that speaks of 'home'. I can't be loud and raucous in it without taking some time just to be in it.

It was a long walk. I almost went around the corral, but I remembered the cattle guards, and considered that the high potential for injury (because I am a klutz) would be increased in the snow. I'd actually encountered one of our campus-security friends, who asked me not to do anything stupid so that he'd have to come look for me later. Unnecessarily playing with cattle guards in seven inches of snow seemed to fit the bill.

How could this have been better? Being up in the woods for it. Heavy snowfall when you're in the trees is like the world forgetting and rejoicing in the same moment. Quiet worship, maybe. When you find a place to be still, to lean against a friendly tree and just watch, listen, feel, breathe - you're taking in so much that you forget you're there. Dazzling hills in the sunlight will be the joy in a few days, but for now the world is wrapped in on itself, whispering a thousand things more important than anything that's had your attention today.

I'm almost sad to leave prints as I cross the field towards the furthest building on campus. They're the only mark there that someone is alive out here - everyone else is tucked into their warm dorms, sleeping, studying, or watching tv.

Beautiful. Dickens has a line in "Things That Never Die" about "the impulses to wordless prayer." There aren't words. Infinitesimal crystals without number flooding the skies and cascading to the surface, with a sound like a thousand of the gentlest, privatest kisses when they touch. The sheer joy of 'cold' - good cold, not a cold that hurts, but a cold that stirs at the life-force inside you and brings it bubbling to the surface. You're aware of how vulnerable you are (I'm usually much more aware of the lack of protection around certain internal organs, and the exposed jugular in my throat, where life runs just beneath the surface), and how fiercely alive you are. You want to run, leap, tackle, thrive. Of course, if you try all that, you'll probably wipe out - the first five inches are good powder, the next two are good packed snow (splendid for ammunition), and the bottom inch is wet. Good luck with that.

The walk back was interesting. Painful. I had a few things to say to myself, "You're from Minnesota, and one semester out here teaches you to forget everything you know about preparing for the snow. Brilliant." I was courting tissue damage on my face. Snow's like the ocean - it's beautiful, and splendid, and a glorious reminder of how small you are - but it's also grand and dangerous and uncaring when you forget how much it can do to you.

Stopped in at the hall across the parking lot from my house to warm up, checked my phone (this at least I remembered. If you're going to go do something that might prove stupid later, make sure you have a way to contact the paramedics. I hadn't been sure before how far I was going, and y'never know, I might take it into my head to hike to the next town, just because this is so pretty). According the said phone, the gang's still in the little neighborhood between the six houses. Renewed from my stint in the protected entryway, I charged back to my house, to pursue a hat. Later in the night, I went back for a change of jeans and snowpants, as well.

Perhaps not a snowbattle, per se, but a fine bout of snowplay consumed the next few hours. Signscout commended me repeatedly on a shot to his face - it was actually a miss, I was trying for one of the twins, and he moved into it. Prior to the snowpants, one of the twins nailed me in the quad with a giant snowball that hurt like a high-velocity wombat. And, evidently, while I was retrieving said snowpants, I missed a fine whitewashing.

I do not whitewash people, because I absolutely hate being on the receiving end of it, and once you give it, you're probably going to receive it. If someone has the poor sense to be lying on the ground, I will cheerfully pile snow on their face, but I will not rub it in. That's just mean.

Pictures were captured, snow was flung, chills were shared, and laughter was made. It was a grand night.

So uh...I had sex.

For the first time.

In London, England

with a guy from Ontario.

yep.

It hurt at first, but the whole experience was so... comfortable. It was beautiful.

Recently I had an occasion to have breakfast out which I do frequently and I saw a women and her daughter enter and be seated after me. I happen to look over and what I saw actually made my skin crawl. This woman had some of the longest fingernails I've ever seen, they looked like claws. These nails had to had been 3 inches long maybe a tad longer. They were so long until they actually curved onder. Now I ask you is this necessary? I watched her use a cell phone with her knuckle, writing was a chore I noticed also. I mean this to me, just the sight of those nails made my skin crawl. I thought women were a thing of beauty, thats why God made her different but this is a bit much, I'd say.

 

I'm not a sexist and don't mean to sound like one, but I think about this womans safety on the job and her employer. What do clients of her employer think about her nails, are they offended, is she a safety hazzard a liabality? Does she have to be especially carefull so as not to break them and injure her hands ? Is she a risk to her employer or herself, does she compliment her job with nails like this ? How does she perforn her household chores, washing, ironing, dishes, cooking  without being a hazzard. Why would she want nails that long in the first place ?

 

How would you react to seeing someone with 3 inch painted fingernails like this, or would you have a reaction or have any comment ? I wonder ? I personaly found them offensive to me, they put me in mind of an animal or rather large foul. She's not the first I've seen with those nails, I had the same feeling the last time. Maybe its just me .....

baby
keep your self strong even within the bad!
nomatter what,
I am there for you.

 

I want you to tell your self that your beautiful!
I need you to believe that you are because it is the truth
your not only beautiful on the out side, do you know that?

your soul must be breath taking

like a color that has never been seen before
every one has that beauty within their hearts
 
keep your chin up!
tell your self you are beautiful!

will you do that for me

 

i dont want you to try, my love.
i need you too do that for me.
cuz if something was to happen to me...
you should know that your the greats thing on earth

 

i know you have that strengh
to keep your heart strong
i know you do

 

i dont need to see a rose get trampled on
by someone with just and ugly color

im here to save you from the ugly
the bad 
and the rotten colors of this world
that are trying to fade your beautiy

 

you baby
are one of the many things that is beautiful in this world
and your are the love of my life

remember that always!
never forget.

 

your heart, soul, mind, the color of your heart,
your face, your body,
every thing about you is what i call beautiful!

 

happy valentines day baby

 

you will always be mine
so can i be yours?

=]