Okay. It's Friday, September 18, 2015, and this is an important date in our family. Today we pause to recognize and celebrate the 10th anniversary of the birth of our grandson, Alexander Benjamin. He was born during the time we experienced Hurricane Rita here in our area. That made taking care of him a little difficult since he needed one of those special lamps to deal with some mild jaundice. We had to rig a gasoline powered generator to keep that lamp going. This boy is a character. I can prove it. Just be around him sometime and you will see exactly what I am talking about. His imagination is something to behold and to listen to, endlessly. He has had his challenges as well. Our family has not always handed off the most functional set of genes and he does have to deal with the hand that was dealt him. On the other hand, he is a loving child, a really funny kid, and one that we love with all our hearts. Happy Birthday Alex from your MiMi and Poppy.
I can usually tell how busy of a week I have had by those pesky relatives that show up. You know the ones I am talking about. Uncle Arthur, (arthritis), Uncle Burcy, (bursitis), and Cousin Rhema, (rheumatism). With me it is typically the hips that play the Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song, (B. J. Thomas, 1975). But that's okay because nearly everyday I hear someone say they are just glad to be up and going. I can say Amen to that. I think about dad over in Louisiana literally working from can to can't, sunup to sundown, at least six days per week. He's 85 and if he doesn't have a project to fill in his schedule he will make a new one. My granddad used to tell me that putting in a good day's work was a sure prescription for getting a good night's sleep. Solomon had this inspired observation as found in the Book of Ecclesiastes, "The sleep of the working man is pleasant, whether he eats little or
much; but the full stomach of the rich man does not allow him to sleep." (Chapter 5, Verse 12) The wife tells me all the time that I can fall asleep faster than anyone she knows. Maybe Paw Paw Mac was right. It would be even better if those pesky family visitors would quiet down a little now and then. Some of you know exactly what I am talking about. The rest, well, you will find out one day soon!
The good news is that we've started back with our potluck suppers on Wednesday evenings at our local Church. The not so good news is that we've started back with our potluck suppers on Wednesday evenings at our local Church. Usually on Thursday morning I have to hunt for my diabetic testing kit. He's hiding because he knows the Wednesday evening buffet style can produce a larger than normal number. However, and I do love to say however, especially this week. The ladies outdid themselves this past Wednesday. It was comfort food on steroids. Green beans with new potatoes with some ham bits thrown in for good measure, some cooked cabbage with sausage in it, and the wife made creamed potatoes, a slow cooked roast with gravy, and some homemade yeast rolls. There were plenty of other choices but since those were the ones I consumed that's why I mentioned them. And, a counter with desserts, that, I pretty much stayed away from. Pretty much. My rule is one plate but this past Wednesday there was a Republican debate going on and it was taking place out at the Reagan Library. I love Ronald Reagan. He would have wanted me to have that second plate. So I did. In his memory. It was all so-o-o-o delicious! Here's the puzzling part. On Thursday morning I found my diabetic kit and pricked my finger and held my breath. The magic number? 95. I was expecting something around 125 or higher. It beats me. But, all I could say is, thank You Lord. Have a great Saturday and Lord's Day Sunday and I'll see what I can rustle up for us come next Monday morning. Lord willing. May God bless. Amen. ....More later.
Many years in this sojourn here on planet earth and I have the scars to prove it but I have been, am now, and will be blessed to have had the privilege of doing what little I've done to honor God and serve others.