The profound connection between Cassie Sue and her grandmother Mama Blue is tested when the physical distance between them makes it difficult to find comfort and smiles. The story demonstrates a delightful tale of family bonds, joy and inspiration.
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As promised the book is very near publishing! It is expected to be on Amazon next week! I’ll post a message when it is live. Please take a minute to read and write a review.
Meet Mama Blue, Cassie Sue, and Cassie’s Mother, Holly. A grandmother, granddaughter and daughter who have a special bond. Join us as we explore the Blue Family adventures!
Since you’ve been gone, no wait maybe that was me. I believe I’ve been away for a time. Unlike Alice, I felt myself pulled under the riptide of busy work and never found the white rabbit or any other muse.
Sucked into the overwhelming crush of long hours and too many projects, none of them personal, I had no time, energy or creativity left to write one word.
A generational family trip proved to be the cure. Combine one granddaughter, her mother and me, a grandmother. Allow the mixture to rest until mellow. Toss in a sprinkle of laughter, a dash of high adventure and season well with affection. A change of scenery, an abundance of laughter, lots of companionship and a journey is a sure cure for recovery.
Embarking on a road trip across ten states in five days, we visited aliens in Roswell, slid across blistering white sand in search of Area 57 and followed a trail of crumbs left by Guy Fieri to consume amazing food.
Skirted Heifer
Our final destination, Mount Rushmore. We arrived after twilight, late in the night, while mule deer grazed the shoulders of the winding mountain roads. The mountains, shrouded in the thick night air loomed eerily against the darkness.
As we drove, we played long forgotten car games, naming animals, flowers and songs beginning with each letter of the alphabet. Hotel lights, a beacon, welcomed three weary explorers ready for a warm bed and restful night’s sleep. It was a lovely hotel, but all we longed for was warm and clean. The next morning, we awoke to a crisp 24 degrees, a dramatic swing from the 83 degrees I left behind in Austin, TX a few days before.
Squeezing a trip in wasn’t easy. It took willpower to leave unfinished projects on the table and walk away. The respite was exactly what I needed and I am so thankful I could do it with my daughter and granddaughter. I am rested and ready to reignite.
The Bastrop State Park is a quick 20-minute drive from my home. I love to visit the park, picnicking, cooking on the grill or hiking and running the trails. My memories are peppered with hours spent in the park.
In September 2011 a roaring fire swept through Bastrop County in Central Texas. The fiery inferno didn’t spare the state park. The resulting devastation affected ninety-six percent of the park as firefighters struggled to extinguish the blaze. Ultimately, it charred 32,000 acres.
The recovery has been amazing and the many volunteers who work tirelessly to revitalize it are inspiring.
Last Sunday, we arrived at the park for our first visit of the new year. As I tightened my laces, my spirit stirred. The sandy trail, flowed beneath my sneakers, grabbing for traction, keeping me sure-footed as I navigated the rocky trail.
The rustle of the dry leaves falling from the trees whispered, reminiscent of a Texas rattlesnake.
Fallen trees lay tangled, a jigsaw of trunks etched on the ground by spring flooding. We passed a young hiker garbed in a pink dress and knee high cowboy boots. She grasped her father’s hand wide eyed as her brother warned us “to watch out for those ants up ahead”. He punctuated his words with his walking stick, the stick twice his size.
Regal pine trees crooned a melody, their branches, the wind’s violin. Small white flowers sprinkled across our path an embryo that would soon be plump juicy berries, ripe and tart.
Trudging up slopes I flew down the other side, shedding inhibitions. I felt free to stumble, laugh, fall and get back up to do it again. Leaping mud puddles in a single bound, I conquered makeshift bridges and eluded poisonous tendrils of vines alongside the trail.
Fire damage and destruction faded. Sparks of green climbed over and under fallen and damaged trees.
Seven miles of fun later, wonderfully spent but also energized, I sat. Warmed by the sun, I enjoyed the song of a bird, the notes carried on the breeze. Marveling at the unexpected joy of a soul unburdened, my soul and body were restored. What a precious gift!
Everyone is guilty of saying I will never… I’ve begun many sentences with it myself.
A few of my favorites are:
“I will never wear tennis shoes with a dress just to get in a walk during my work day.” This one I do often!
“I will never be one of those parents/grandparents who…, well lots of things.” There are too many of these to list.
And, “I will never run 13.1 miles!” This timeI don’t mind being proven wrong.
In 2001, my husband signed up for and trained for the 3M half marathon. I thought he was crazy to even consider it, but I knew he would finish it once he’d committed.
He trained for several months and never missed a scheduled run. We lived in the Texas panhandle and rain, sleet or snow never kept him from completing a training run. He is much more disciplined than me. When we met, I was a runner, and he a cyclist. I jogged occasional laps on the track and around the neighborhood; he rode for 60 miles on the weekend. I learned to ride but rode only once or twice a year. He fell in love with running.
So before sunrise early February 4, 2001, I dropped my husband at the start line. I ate breakfast and headed downtown to watch him finish. Runners crossed the finish line celebrating their victories. I turned to my friend and vowed, “I could never run 13 miles and why would anyone want to run that far?”
Fifteen years later, having completed 15 half marathons and 17 full marathons, I stood in the predawn chill ready to run the 3M half marathon. As I waited along with 5400+ runners, I shivered in the cool morning breeze and remembered that declaration. I could never have envisioned myself running more than 2-3 miles at a time back then.
Almost awake!
On this day, I was running with my good friend, Shirley and our goal was simply to finish. Shirley has lost over one hundred pounds and is determined to keep it off. She ran her first half marathon in San Antonio in December 2015 and as we crossed the finish line, she asked, “When’s the next one?” So here we are lining up to make the trek from North Austin to the State Capitol downtown. Shirley trained for the run using the run/walk method. In San Antonio, we ran one minute and walked one minute throughout the course. Our plan today was to do the same.
When we crossed the start line, we were both running strong. As the alarm sounded for our walk break, Shirley said, “I’m feeling good. I want to keep going.” So we kept going. Eleven minutes later I looked up and saw the first mile sign. Pointing to the sign I asked, “Have you ever run a mile without a break?”
When she answered no, I replied, “Well now you have!” Both our eyes were glistening when we passed the one-mile mark.
At mile 7, we waited in line for a “porta potty”. That stop cost us 10 minutes but sometimes you have to listen to mother nature!
As we ran through the University of Texas I was in front of Shirley. Suddenly, I heard a group of runners singing. Shirley was talking to a nearby runner and mentioned it was her birthday the next day. A spontaneous rendition of Happy Birthday rang out as we passed by the UT stadium.
We completed the course and shaved 10 minutes off our San Antonio time. Even with the delay of our bathroom break we were faster. Amazing!
First thing Monday morning Shirley was standing at my desk with a handful of ½ marathon flyers, asking “Which one is next?”
So while we decide on the next one, we’ve already signed up for 3M 2017!
My anniversary is the first week in January and instead of exchanging gifts, my husband and I often take a weekend trip. We are usually in need of a bit of recuperation. Although fun, holiday travel can take a toll. Our hectic schedule begins with Thanksgiving and culminates with our anniversary weekend.
I love to travel but am always grateful to return home. This year our holiday plans included multiple trips, and I wanted to avoid piling on more miles when planning our anniversary.
I debated planning a special meal instead of a weekend trip, but decided to search online for day trips. A few familiar options popped up, but, there was one I had not heard of , the 9E Ranch. Intrigued, I read the following blurb:
“On a 320-acre ranch, this rustic cabin resort lies 13.4 miles from both downtown Bastrop and Smithville.
The 4 antiques-filled cabins are individually decorated and come with full kitchens and country views. Some add sleeper lofts, claw-foot tubs, air-conditioning, decks or wood-burning stoves.
Paths and hiking trails crisscross the property. Breakfast muffins and coffee are complimentary.”
The description sounded perfect for a quiet restful weekend! I checked the website for a vacancy and found The Eagles’ Nest Log Cabin was available. I booked the cabin and on Friday afternoon, we headed for the 9E Ranch.
We arrived at the ranch half an hour after we left home. The entrance was easy enough to find but I recommend using GPS. It is well marked but in the dusk it wasn’t as obvious as I expected. As we drove through the gate, we shook, rattled and rolled down the hard-packed dirt road.
It was a typical ranch road as expected on a working ranch. When we pulled up to the cabin, a smile spread across my face. The scene was idyllic. Thankfully, we had packed light, bringing few bags. The air was chilly and damp, so minimal luggage made unloading easy.
Inside, I was instantly charmed. The view was lovely. The stately pine trees meandered across the grassy slope tossing pine needles in their wake. Huddled at the bottom of the hill a small herd of longhorn cattle strolled.
We stowed our bags and settled on the sofa as the evening dusk faded to cast delightful light show across the horizon. Later, we sat at the little wooden table and ate a light meal. Tuna and fruit on a bed of greens and a tray of cheese with crackers on the side made a light and tasty meal! The rest of the evening we sat quietly reading, talking and just looking at the skyline.
On Saturday we drove to Smithville to visit a few antique stores and enjoy a fun lunch at Pocket’s Grille. At Pockets, the burger bar is the trunk of a 1961 Ford Galaxy. I ordered fish tacos and it was a delicious choice. Ron opted for a burger. We both cleaned our plates. After lunch, we headed back to our cabin. With the drizzle now a rain, we stayed inside the rest of the day. We had planned to take long walks on the trails and view the animals that roam the ranch.
Instead we stayed indoors, wrapped in a quilt while we played Trivial Pursuit and watched the night sky come to life. We left the Eagles’ Nest cabin around noon on Sunday, refreshed and rested. It was the perfect getaway and I can hardly wait to return.
Last year I persistently clacked the keyboard, determined to put some small entertainment on the blank page. If not entertainment, then perhaps grammatically correct sentences. Doggedly producing words, I waited for a gem to flow through my fingers.
Then I faltered. I’ve been away from the page for a while, pulled by distractions and obligations.
It began with Thanksgiving, the gentle nudge away from writing. The busy work and family obligations wooed me. I allowed myself to let writing slide for a while, missing a blog post, then two and three. My novel (s) in waiting went unopened for weeks. New ideas blossomed in my head and faded; notepads empty and computers idle.
Today I attempted to regain focus. Christmas has passed and Christmas future is far away. I took a deep breath, mentally rather than physically and opened a beautifully blank page.
Behind the computer screen, through the windowpane, two red cardinals play in the leaves. I smile and watch them foraging when suddenly the leaves around the bright spots of red became alive with movement. Bobbing in and out of the fallen oak leaves are numerous female cardinals. Their slight movement camouflaged, their coloring matching the dried leaves. Enjoying the activity, I see a squirrel has entered the scene. He too is easy to miss as he darts among the reds and browns of the winter landscape.
Past the tall barren oaks and through splashes of green from the fir trees, my neighbors walk their large white dog down our country lane; his full coat and bushy tail appear at odd intervals through the kaleidoscope of nature.
I recall the many cities I visited in the last few weeks and the family stories I intend to share, later. Now, I’m going to relax and enjoy nature. I’ll be back to catch up on travel and family a little later.
An article landed in my inbox this week. A man was reminiscing about an old lamp that sat in the living room of his childhood home. He held a finial, the decorative top piece that keeps the shade in place, in his hand. A smile bloomed on my face, immediately understanding how he felt. I’ve stood in antique shops and thrift stores cradling an object in my hand, lost in a cherished memory.
I enjoy my treasures. As I walk thru my front door I am greeted by an abundance of artifacts. Artifacts from my husband’s childhood in Yugoslavia rest companionably near my grandfather’s carpenter square. A picture painted by Yugoslavian artist, Jovan Obican hangs adjacent to a hand drawn painting of a rooster my sister created for me. An antique hand held mixer rests on the kitchen window sill.
These things and many others fill my home with memories. They make my house a home and ground me in the roots of my heredity.
And then……
Another article popped up in my inbox today. It proclaimed our houses are filled with things that should be immediately thrown out. The article touted the danger of the germs swimming around us. Immediately I envisioned microorganisms crawling through my cabinets, over my floors and on all my possessions. The article mentioned treasured mementos and things you keep out of guilt. Their advice? Toss them! And extra buttons? Get rid of them. You will never use them anyway.
Feeling guilty for enjoying my treasures and more than a little grossed out, I thought about divesting myself of everything except basic essentials. It really would make it much easier to clean and dust. And that button box does have tons of one of a kind antique buttons I will never use.
But I would also give up the comfort of snuggling into my antique wingback chair, my grandmother’s handmade quilt across my lap, reading a book discovered in my last thrift store perusal. No thank you. I think I’m okay with things just as they are germs, dust and all.
Last Friday, Ron and I headed to the Austin-Bergstrom international airport en route to our destination Atlanta, Ga. I was nervous and excited. If all went according to plan, I could cross two things off my life list. My life list is like a bucket list, but a lot more fluid. I add, change and delete from the list regularly. I planned to run a marathon in Alabama on Saturday. This would be my 17th state to complete a marathon. I also intended to run a half marathon in Chattanooga, Tennessee on Sunday.
There are many people who run back to back marathons and routinely compete on consecutive days. But not me! This would be my first “double weekend”. I considered running the marathon course for both Saturday and Sunday but soon changed my mind. Ron enthusiastically signed up for a marathon on both days.
We booked our flights on a budget airline, so we had to get creative with our packing. Running clothes and shoes for both races had to go in our carryon luggage for safekeeping. The airline charged for carryon luggage but allowed a personal item at no charge. I conscientiously stuffed running shoes, tights, and shirts in my backpack along with my kindle, purse and snacks. Although, I secretly believed if our running clothes got misplaced, it would be a sign. No running shoes or clothes? It just wasn’t meant to be.
In spite of long security lines, we made it to our gate with time to spare. Once on board, I looked forward to napping, but I discovered the seats didn’t recline. No nap for me! I couldn’t get comfortable enough to rest.
Arriving in Atlanta after two hours flying time, even sans nap I felt great. Several trains, walkways, and stairs later we arrived at the rental car lot. After a quick lunch at Applebee’s in Marietta, GA we headed to Chattanooga to pick up our packets for Sunday’s run.
We pulled up to packet pick up after sundown and fifteen minutes before the eight o’clock deadline. Race numbers retrieved we left for Albertville, Ala to find our hotel.
Albertville is 30 miles from Lake Guntersville where the Mainly Marathons Appalachian Series Day seven was being run at 6:30 AM on Saturday morning. The thin hotel walls allowed us to hear talking and movement all night. I didn’t understand the purpose of the mirrors covering the wall behind the bed. I’m sure I slept some but it didn’t feel like it.
Lake Guntersville
Pulling my running clothes from my suitcase to dress, I couldn’t find my running bra. Sure enough I didn’t pack one. The most supportive bra I had with me was my Victoria Secret bra my daughter bought for me.
Victoria’s Secret bra, gloves, jacket, tights and long sleeve running shirt warded off the chill and made it the temperature more tolerable.
Arriving at the park, we checked in and picked up our T-shirts and medals. Yes, we received our medals before we ran. We had to wait until we finished to get our state and year attachments.
We lined up with 60 other marathon hopefuls, ready to run the out and back on the 2.184 mile course 12 times. As one of the other runners said, “After the first few times, you stop noticing how pretty this looks.” That quote was from Bryndis a marathoner from Iceland. There are four marathons a year in Iceland, so she travels to the USA to run. She had run a marathon with the group the previous day on a course that required running 21 laps. Many of the runners were completing the series and were on their seventh day of running. Running a marathon in laps takes patience. You keep up with the laps by taking a rubber band each time you complete a lap. The scenery was beautiful and several times we had to slow for ducks to meander across the trail.
Our bibs had our names printed on them and everyone soon learned our names and shouted support as we crisscrossed the course. It was soon impossible to know who was passing you and who you were passing but everyone was smiling. It was the most non-competitive event I’ve ever participated in.
The end! Is it really over?
My watch battery died before I finished so my last few laps were very relaxed. I finished with blisters on both feet. Taking my shoes off to change I discovered my Tiva’s were safe at home so I stood around in my socks. Ron brought me a cup of Fritos, pretzels, jelly beans and an orange for a recovery snack. It was fantastic!
We regrouped and left for Chattanooga. Stopping at a Mexican restaurant along the way and we had a lovely meal.
Anything would have tasted good but our food was great. The meal arrived just as the Texas A&M and Alabama football game began to broadcast on the television mounted above the bar. Since we were in Alabama, we didn’t advertise our support of the Texas team.
We made it to Chattanooga and checked into our hotel. It was lovely and more than made up for the first hotel. We each had showers and got comfortable while we waited for room service. I was feeling spoiled!
Our hotel was a mile from the race tents. We slept an hour later than Saturday and made it to the start around 6:30 AM. The marathon started at 7:00 AM and the half at 7:30 AM, so I was able to watch as Ron crossed the start line.
It was still 43 degrees, but I was getting used to the colder temperatures. Crossing the start line to the tune of Jump On It, by Sir Mix-a-lot was invigorating. Along the course you always meet interesting and fun people. Sunday was no exception. I ran with a couple who were married the day before and this was their honeymoon. Crazy, I think! I also ran with Jeanetta who was running because she is terrified of bridges. She chose to run the four bridges marathon to help get past her fears.
And there is always someone willing to give advice. My favorite advice overheard on Sunday was from a man running his first marathon. He said, “Never pass up an opportunity to pee!”
We both finished our races, Ron much stronger than me, but we had fun. After stopping for lunch at Genghis Grill, we returned to our hotel where we showered and napped before heading back out for ice cream at Ben and Jerry’s.
We wandered around downtown Chattanooga a while. We visited a book and yarn store where the owner was demonstrating how to use a spinning wheel. We ate again before going back to the hotel for the evening. Exhausted and sore, we slept early and soundly. We woke early on Monday and headed back to Atlanta. Our vacation was over. Marathon state #17 – check. Back to back race days – check!
Can you hear your song, Jilly Girl? Listen carefully! Your song is deep inside, but if you listen you can hear it. It is a conglomeration of thousands of melodies from everyone who helped make you. Your great-grandmother, Granny Greenway, Nana Thoma, Mama and great-aunts each contributed. There are lots more that I don’t even remember.”
I recently found this message I had written to my granddaughter 15 or 16 years ago. She had asked me to snuggle with her in our oversized recliner and watch a video. Yes, we were still playing video tapes on a VCR back then.
We watched as an inventor named Doc and his dog Sprocket wandered through Fraggle Rock. Fraggle Rock is a Muppet type show created by Jim Henson. It debuted in 1983. Jillian was born in 1996 and has always loved retro things. Betty Boop was her favorite animation and the theme from Top Gun was her favorite music. The Fraggles spent the episode searching for their songs. I heard Jillian humming, and realized she still had to find her inner songs.
I whispered to her, “Start looking now, before your life is cluttered with everyone else’s songs.”
Jillian is 19 years old now. We don’t fit in that old recliner any more. I’m sure neither of us have a copy of Fraggle Rock any longer. We still enjoying snuggling occasionally. She has a lovely song and it’s “cluttered” by many other songs. I was wrong in one respect. Her song is unique, but it’s definitely peppered with melodies and notes from everyone that has passed through her life and that’s the way it should be.
I haven’t shared this with Jillian and I don’t believe she will remember any advice I freely offered to her at 5 years young. I hope she will always remember those special memories we created and continues to enjoy creating more of them.
But mostly, I hope she knows, how beautiful her song has become.
A picture painted by Yugoslavian artist, Jovan Obican hangs adjacent to a hand drawn painting of a rooster my sister created for me. 
An antique hand held mixer rests on the kitchen window sill.
my grandmother’s handmade quilt across my lap, reading a book discovered in my last thrift store perusal. No thank you. I think I’m okay with things just as they are germs, dust and all.
Nana's Apron Strings 