Mother's Day is half over. So far I've gotten two cards from Joel --one he made last night ,one he made at church.
The one he made last night is so clever. What wit for a 5-year-old. Sarah told me that he made the card, she read it, but there was no signature. "Joel, how will Mom know who it's from if you don't sign it?"
So, he added to it. Here goes:
The front of the card says, "WOW" (which, no, is not "MOM" upsidedown; it really does say "WOW," according to Joel.
The top part of the inside says, "DEAR MOM HAPPY MOTHERS DAY'
The bottom part says "LOVE DAD IM KIDDING LOVE JOEL"
Well, the little guy just about fell over laughing at himself as I read it and chuckled.
As I was loading up yesterday's pitiful yard sale leftovers into Paul's car with Joel, I spotted part of my gift had fallen halfway out of a Michael's bag in the trunk. It was a basket lined with pink cloth, and a box of my favorite candy. Joel says, "Oh! That's your Happy Mother's Day gift. We got you a really cute baxit. You can't open the baxit today .But you CAN have THESE!" And he grabbed the Good 'n Plenty. No doubt knew I'd share with him. :)
I handed him two pink candies and a white one. "I don't like the pink ones. They taste girly," he announced.
"They're all the same," I assured him. "The pink and white ones taste exactly the same."
"Oh, they do? Okay." And he popped all 3 in his cute little mouth. It's kinda fun and kinda scary what kids'll believe just because an adult tells them.
Our pastors gave every mother a Panera gift card as we left church today. I love the generosity in our church, and the expressions of gratitude. My two top love languages are words of affirmation and gifts. So to get a card of appreciation and a card for food I can look forward to enjoying without making, well, that's a 2-in-1 for me .
We won't have dinner with my mom tonight. She is too weak, but had a better day yesterday (slept all day without pain meds). I took dinner to them last night, with pink roses. My family is going to take me an Indian restaurant tonight per my request.
My yard sale made a grand total of $12.65. Yup, twelve dollars and some-odd change. Biblically, twelve is a number of completion, but I was hoping it wasn't the complete sum of half a day's work. Yard sales are not popular on our street, which is off the beaten path. Our community and the adjacent one were having yard sales, but you have to live on the main drag to get the most traffic. Lots of people bought scrapbook stuff from me (mainly stickers. Whoop-dee-do.)
One lady bought silk flowers for her mom's grave. She also wanted a copy of a book called Silent Spring. Never heard of it. She told me it's about what would happen if pesticides were abused en masse. "You wouldn't hear birds, bugs, frogs. It was written in the 60s, when DDT was all the talk." I told her my dad was an environmental engineer for Edgewood Arsenal in the 70s. I remembered how proud I was of him when he told me (in words I could understand about his job) "I'm trying to keep more fish from dying." It made me think anew about kind my parents have always been to animals. "People who are kind to animals are kind people," one blind elderly Amish man told me once., upon hearing my Sarah interact with his piglets.
One man at the yard sale--a chef, was looking for cookbooks. He collects them. "I have over 900 of them," he told me.
"I have a microwave cookbook here," I said, "but I guess that doesn't count, huh? ''
"No, that doesn't count." I asked him what cuisine is his favorite and he said Indian. Then he highly recommended the local Indian restaurant here in town that I haven't heard much about.
"Try the Tandoori chicken," he said. "Delicious." If you can't trust a chef, who can you trust?
He also smiled, telling me about a recent yard sale acquisition--200 dollars' worth of knives for 5 bucks."
"The guy said when they get dull he just buys new ones. I said when they get dull, I sharpen 'em. I'll be happy to take those off your hands." I asked him his knife of choice and he said Hoffritz. (I made him spell it. Never heard of it.) So, dare I look up the cost of a real chef's knife that he bought in Manhattan? Or shall I just sharpen my dull ones?