Still in the Thick of It

...whatever "It" is.

I still have thoughts and words beyond captions.  

I still say, "Someday."

Friday, I took some pictures of Piper and roses and chickens.  

Saturday I took pictures of my Dad's birthday picnic.  I post legions of them, badly exposed and awful, for the sake of the brothers and sisters and cousins who could not come. 

 

I haven't touched the camera since last Saturday, although I did take a picture of Susie with the small camera the night before last.  I'll have to find the small camera before I post it, but the snapshots on it aren't as pretty as roses, anyway.  Sliced nostrils and stitches never are, although Susannah herself is lovely.

I ended in bad taste, didn't I?  Before I head out to finish the garden at long last, Lord willing, here are some words well worth reading for parents and non-parents alike.  A friend of mine from college wrote it last week, and if you must skip the pictures that follow in lieu of her post, do so!  It's that good.  (Thanks SadieC.P.)

For the Sake of a Piper

...because we love her.

Also, she is pensive and perfect sitting on top of the dog house with her fistful of roses,

 because where else would one sit with a fistful of roses?

She has a sweet, little grin when she sees mamas behind branches.

 

For the Sake of the Rose Bushes

 

...because both pink and cream are in bloom and smell heavenly.

I sometimes forget, but that doesn't mean you have to.  Always, always, take time to smell them.

The Popsy

 My dad's had an unusual year.  Since his non-Hodgkin's lymphoma went into remission over 25 years ago, he hasn't been to see a doctor.  He has some chronic health issues, he's an RN, and he probably didn't want to hear what they might tell him.   Circumstances forced his hand last fall, though, and he set up an appointment that showed his white blood cell counts were quite elevated.  Testing over the next six months showed the counts increasing, and he prepared for the worst.  Because the chemo used to treat his cancer is known to sometimes result in leukemia, he also prepared his wife and children for the worst.

Thank God "The Worst" didn't end up being a leukemia diagnosis, but the uncertainty of the last several months has sharpened the awareness of time and inevitable death that all humans carry within.  We are thankful for my dad, and we are thankful that God has allowed us more time with him. May we use it well.

My dad's seventieth birthday was the week before Father's Day, and last Saturday we threw him a party in the park. Because we wanted to surprise him and because his nosiness makes it hard to surprise him, we told him that Becky's family and mine were going to have a Father's Day cookout.  Half-truths are half-true, right?  We sorely missed Alaskan Andy and his crew, Joel in Indiana, and Sarah, Henry, and new baby Ezra (sob) who were house-bound with car woes, but the rest of us were able to make it.

I was pretty sure Dad's incessant questioning would ruin the surprise and had very little hope we'd pull it off.  As you can see from the pictures, though, I was happily surprised.   Even seeing Haven didn't inform him.  Dad was puzzled by the boy and by the cameras he saw in the distance, but it wasn't until he neared the pavilion that he knew what he walked into.

 

Success.  How sweet it is.

 

 

Foodstuffs

As is typical for Johnson celebrations, we prepared far too much food.  John simultaneously manned three grills full o' meat, salads weighed the table down, and desserts sprouted from the center.

I made 2 key lime pies and a couple of layer cakes, but I didn't eat any of them in favor of my sister's almond toffee bars.  I polished off enough to make up for the lacking cake, but, never fear, I nibbled some German chocolate cake only to discover that it deserves its own show on buildabelly someday to come.  Three layers of cardiac happiness, I tell you.  While I'm at it, I really should snag the recipe for those toffee bars.  Or maybe I shouldn't.

People-Love

Look, it's my sisters and I in a picture together! This is rare indeed.  We visit together more than pictures show, but an impromptu pose together is nearly unheard of.  (You're welcome.)  Now all we need to do is wrassle up the four boys and get a picture of the seven of us together.  Yes, Andy, that means you need to fly from Alaska...right NOW!

 

Simeon has a double portion of winsomeness.  I took this picture after he told Mopsy and Deb that he wanted to hug them both at the same time.  He proceeded to do just that, with his usual gusto.

I know I've mentioned before that Deborah was formed from baby-nip instead of the dust of the earth.  It still holds true.

 

She shared, though, and Zekie-Boy made the rounds.

 

I think Cousin Tom might have baby-nip up his sleeve, too...

The Beginning

What does the Mopsy have here?






Kites given to her by a friend whose husband brought them home from a business trip to China 15 years ago?  You bet. 

In case you don't know the effect Chinese kites have on children, here's the answer: they make children RUN. 

 

 

And what is the result of all these children running with kites?  The answer is tangles and knots, and kite tangles require adult hands to fix them.

Happy birthday, Dad!

At least Jess was a smart girl and stood still while she flew.  One knot spared from the multitude...

 

Simeon was smart, too.  He opted out of the kite-flying in favor of a Pop-pop swing.

In the Middle

A game of pick-up occupied the larger folks, while the smaller scaled their prison walls.  Annie later told me, to my parental shame, that she had climbed up and over the fencing.  When I explained why climbing over asphalt isn't such a smart idea, she reassured me that only one side had asphalt and that "The other side is soft grass!"

Phew.  That's good to know.

 

 

Dad also opened cards and gifts.  I will not tell you who stayed up all night baking and did NOT make him a card or a gift, because she might be offended.  I will tell you her name begins with an "A," ends with an "l," and has "bigai" in the middle.  Lucky for her, the rest of the family knows how to do things right.

 

All Parties Peter Out

Ours did quite literally.  Once Pete and the boys left for the drive back to PA, things slowly wound down.  It takes roughly two hours for a party to fully wind down once the Peter leaves, just so you know.







Spend those two hours sitting, chatting, and watching children play with balls, balloons, and pogo sticks.  You may also, if you're so inclined, which I certainly was, eat more of your sister's almond toffee bars until your belly threatens to resign.


 


(Annika said that Susie doesn't look very normal in this picture.  That's because she was "posting."  It's something she has recently started telling me she's going to do when I have the camera.  No one tell her what posing is, please.  That would probably be even worse.)

 

 

 

 

 

Tacked onto the Bumper

 It ends with a low-slanting sun, a game of catch, and bug-taming.

 

 

It stayed just like this on her finger for half an hour.

 

I overheard her whisper, "I love you, my little sweetie-babe."

 

She must not know that she's the sweetie-babe.

 

 

Sun: catch: bugs.

 

Thus ends the tale.