Marriage, Birthday, Bicycle, and Mouse Tales

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We had a jam-packed weekend, how about you? One event after another had me completely worn out. But in Energizer battery style, I'm not finished yet. I'm helping to cater lunch for the faculty at my son's school today, so I have a little farther to go before I collapse. I have some tales (and tails) from the weekend to tell you this morning. I apologize for the length of this post. Feel free to read it in installments, but be sure to come back for the last one -- our Mouse Tale!

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We started our weekend, after a long day gardening and cleaning in preparation for a party at our house on Sunday, with Mass at a nearby parish before heading to a grad party for a family friend. We were privileged to witness three sacraments while we were at Mass. Because it was a Mass, we had Eucharist. The pastor was providing Anointing of the Sick for his parishioners, also, which is always very beautiful to witness. And before our final blessing, a couple celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary respoke their vows (not truly a sacrament, but still). Father revealed that the gentleman still today tells his wife every day that she's the best thing that ever happened to him. That would be special even during the early years of marriage, but is so very beautiful -- after 50 years.

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On Saturday my mom celebrated her 69th birthday. She has repeatedly warned me about any celebrations next year, so I seized the opportunity this year and invited several family members and friends who don't normally come to run-of-the-mill birthday celebrations. And while we were enjoying our company Sunday evening, I realized there should be no run-of-the-mill birthday celebrations. It was such a joy to see faces we don't see very often (or as my uncle put it -- except at funerals) that I vow to celebrate much more often. We should all seize every opportunity to celebrate life -- even everyday stuff -- with our families and friends.

Birthday flowers

I was talking with my mother's best friend during the party and asked about her sister-in-law who recently passed away after struggling many years post-stroke. She revealed that her sister-in-law would apologize every night when she woke her husband to help her to the bathroom. Her sister-in-law had told her that every night when she apologized, he replied that it was his privilege to be able to take care of her. Knowing that this man was a very important Navy Admiral during his long career makes that knowledge even more touching. Sniff.

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Yesterday we were enjoying a nice, quiet, somewhat "weathery" Memorial Day (actually I was cooking for today's luncheon, but still it was quiet), when Faith came in, crying and muddy and with bloody knee, ankle, and hands. She had taken a spill on the wet pavement and her poor little body was quite battered. Fortunately she was wearing her helmet. I took her up to the bath and washed off the dirt and blood and bandaged her up, but she didn't bounce back like her normal self. She said her foot hurt very badly -- she was sure it was broken. Several hours later she was lying in bed refusing to walk on it. Though it was not swollen, I called the doctor's office and the doctor suggested a quick trip for x-rays. We are fortunate to have a Children's Hospital Urgent Care in our community, so we made the trip. It was not broken, just likely very bruised, and she left with a special shoe and stern instructions to always follow mom's rules: no riding bikes with flip-flops on your feet. Her softball career is currently on hold.

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When we arrived home from the urgent care last evening, we were met with today's Mouse Tale. We've had a little mouse in our garage for a couple of weeks. Just when we think we've scared him off, we find he's back. He was a stubborn little guy, which is surprising for the time of year -- usually they stay only during cold months. Last evening Doug decided to investigate further a big wooden box we have in our garage -- something my dad made to hold firewood and we use to hold bats, balls, skateboards, and apparently a few shoes. When Doug dumped the box over on its side, out of a pretty, little, navy blue, suede Mary Jane (that had been MIA for months) hopped a mama mouse, with four babies hanging on to her tiny belly. She scurried across the garage floor, dragging them with her, and under a Craftsman tool bench. Normally my husband would have whacked a mouse with the back of a shovel (heartless, I know), but he just couldn't kill a mother and four babies. Somehow he got her into a corner, rescuing one of the babies that fell off, set her up with a pizza box, and then sanitized the garage with bleach water. This morning she was tucked safely into the pizza box with all her babies, and this afternoon she is going to be "transplanted" to a cozy spot under the deck. There was some discussion about "pet mice" which lasted only until I got wind of it.




Happy June 1st, my friends!

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