Nana's Grandma's Dress

When Dave's mom, Nancy, was a little girl, her grandmother crocheted her this lovely, delicate little dress.  Nancy can remember being dolled up in it for photos, and then it was laid carefully away to be preserved.  She dutifully kept it for many, many years, lugging it along on countless moves long after giving up on the notion of someday having a daughter to inherit it.   She eventually decided to move it out of the house, bequeathing it to a neighbor with daughters who thoughtfully pulled her aside and recommended that she tuck it away just a little bit longer, just in case...

Along came Miss Emily, and the dress suddenly had a purpose for its almost 70 year wait to be worn again.  Nancy refurbished it, adding a new under slip and ribbons, detailing its history along with that of its maker, Emily's great, great grandmother, in a special heirloom notebook she presented to Emily just after her 3rd birthday.   Nancy was 3 1/2 years old in the photo above, so I waited until Emily was the same age Nana was then to do a little photo shoot to further celebrate and preserve the legacy of this very special dress.  I feel blessed to see our children learning more about their family history and I'm grateful for the devotion and thoughtfulness their grandparents have put into fostering this connection.

 

This was Nana's childhood rocking chair.  Nancy was always dressed in braids as a child.

Emily was definitely channeling her inner-Nana!  

Timmy and Pop's Project

These beautiful photographs of Timmy and Pop sharing a special grandson/grandfather project day building a birdhouse together were taken by Nana using my camera. 

Mazama Getaway

My hubby and I found ourselves in the rare and exquisite position of leveraging our Christmas presents this year to wrangle a two-night getaway to snowy Mazama WITH OUT, and this is the kicker, THE KIDS!  The grandparents and one of our awesome babysitters rallied together to provide our two little urchins (3 and 5 years old)  a fun-filled weekend at home while we cross-country skied, napped, snow-shoed, exchanged massages, and ate and drank under declaration of calorie exemption. It was sheer bliss!  It was also a wonderful opportunity to crack out the cameras and do some photo-documenting.

Baby, it's cold outside!

View from our room.

Fueling up for a long day of winter play!

I loved the architecture and general style of the main lodge dining area.

Hitting the trails.  With over a thousand acres to choose from, we decided on Jack's Trail for starters.

Enjoying the scenery.

Remembering, more or less, how to do this!

Lunch at Jack's cabin.  The Potato & Escarole soup was healthy enough to compensate for the Hot Butter Rum to follow.

A touching tribute to the late, great wilderness guide and the cabin's namesake, Jack.

A nap and a good book(s) by the fireplace.  Working on a little dual language reading.  I'm a dork, truly.  This is fun for me!

Round Two:  snowshoes.

Dave tells me he was working on his "funky tilt" here.   Obviously, he's a dork, too.  Good thing we've got that in common!

Kicking around Winthrop.  Dave was intrigued by the gear ornaments on the bike racks.

    Always smart to get in good with the town Sheriff.  He was a bit stiff, however.

                                              

Dinner at the old historic Duck Brand Hotel in Winthrop.

Ah!........... No further comment ;o)

Me

While counting my blessings and sharing my gratitude, I'd like to go ahead and publicly admit how grateful I am to be me.  I haven't always felt this way.  Being me can be a pain in the ass, to be sure.  In fact, my tweens, teens, and much of my twenties were consumed by angst, despair and bad hair.  I alternated between extremes.  I was at times plagued by a ruthlessly self-inflicted perfectionism, never living up to my own unreasonable standards for myself.  At other times, I was lost and looking desperately for something to hold onto, something to fill the void inside of me.  As I moved deeper into my twenties, the hair improved but the sense of belonging didn't.  I was high, I was low, but always lonely and searching for sanity somewhere outside of myself.  Where, I wonder, do we first get the notion that we are supposed to be insecure?  What makes us afraid to love ourselves as deeply and as fully as we love others?  Why is it OK to say "I am grateful for my dog, or my child, or my husband" but it seems totally taboo to say, "I love ME!"   Well, guess what...I'm doing it.  I'm admitting it, right here, out loud, in print, boldly and with out apology:  I absolutely LOVE BEING ME!  I have found that four decades of life experience have brought, along with a few wrinkles and a slightly smaller (and lower) bra size, a tremendous freedom.  I rejoice in the freedom to embrace my imperfections, my flaws, and my failures.  I have found that as I pour love and self-acceptance onto these ornery inner-demons, they lose their power over me.  I have also found the courage and the audacity to be ridiculously happy!  It has become a joyous privilege to develop, share, and celebrate my God-given talents.  It's fun to look in the mirror and see my own smile.  I love loving people and I love life!  I really enjoy being me. There is nobody else I would rather be.  

Dave

Dave is with out a doubt, as my mother will be quick to tell you, the best thing that has ever happened to me.  He zigs where I zag, is calm when I'm crazy, and anchors me to something so solid and real, enduring and true.  He is at once both my leading man, and my best supporting man.  He's a total turkey and he drives me nuts, don't get me wrong.  But he is an utterly irresistible combination of strength and silliness, impossible not to forgive for his relentless stubbornness.  As a father, he is consistent and gentle, tender but tough, and always fully engaged whether in the reading of a bedtime book or the pitching of a ball.  He coaches, he primps, he plays, he allows himself to be dressed up, and he laughs out loud a lot.  As a role model, he is a fireman, a photographer, a hockey player as well as coach (mine) and referee, and a board member with Habitat for Humanity.  He's the type of man you hope your son will grow up to become.  As a husband, he is my source of comfort and inspiration.  Although I value his advice above all others, he only gives it when asked.  He believes in me with all his heart and never fails to make me feel treasured and adored.  He's my best friend, my Hercules, and my heart-throb.  My gratitude begins and ends with him because he is the foundation for all the rest.  Happy Thanksgiving to my very most favorite turkey of all!