just another perfect day

Monday was a perfect day.

I’m sure I have many but on Monday I was aware, very aware, of just how perfect it was.

I had all the expected birthday calls, and some not expected. Special! I woke up to sunshine, t-shirt weather and chirpy birds making themselves at home in the birdhouse out front. I made soap. Puggy came to visit and stayed for treats. Not unusual, he always stays for treats. But he’s cute, makes me laugh, and is oh so cuddly. #1 son sent a beautiful bouquet of flowers. My big boy biked down the hill to wish Gram a happy birthday and the two littler guys raced across the playground yelling Happy Birthday and squeezed my heart with great big hugs. I spent the evening with friends and family and served egg sandwiches with the crust cut off. Fancy! With a side order of cheesecake and cookies from The Cozy Tearoom. I went to bed tired but happy. The old bones know just how old they are, but the heart sings as loudly as it ever did.

I love you more …

June is coming. The beginning of summer, the end of the school year and for my middle boy, graduation from elementary school and on to high school. He is eager and ready. I am not.

My grandsons, my boys, (and I have been blessed with three) are all good little guys – though with the oldest being a teen and the youngest not too far off I rather doubt they’d appreciate being called ’little guys’. The older they get, the further they move away. From hugs and kisses and cuddles, from bedtime stories, from let’s pretend and playtime, from sharing hopes and dreams and observations on life and living.

But I’m okay with that. That’s how it’s supposed to be and I’m here. Whenever they need me, I’ll still be here.

But oh my, Sammy. To cuddle down beside you, to feel your chubby little hand patting my cheek. To watch you twirl your hair into knots even as you sleep. To hear you plea for ”one more story”. I didn’t appreciate it nearly enough. I remember one night when you were seven or eight, you cuddled into me and as you fell asleep you whispered, ” Grammy, I love you more than Mommy, but don’t tell her.” I chuckle when I think of that. I knew you didn’t really. But you were always the one who let us know how big your heart was. It still is. You were the little guy who proclaimed every day as ’the best day ever!’ I hope you don’t lose that. Because you have made so many of mine ’the best days ever!’

…early morning thoughts on what looks to be a glorious day.

Happy Mother’s Day to me …

I wrote this post a couple months ago. Just now putting it up here. Seemed the right time.

Mother’s Day is four months down the road. I may or may not get a card – probably not. I may or may not get a shout out on social media – again, probably not.

Today, however, he dropped in, shovelled out my car, took out my garbage and went to pick up a few groceries for me. I didn’t ask. Hardly a day goes by I don’t hear from him – calls initiated by him as often as me. He NEVER hangs up without saying ‘I love you’. Too many times to count I am invited for breakfast, coffee, supper. Too many times to count he gives me little gifts – and big – of things he sees and thinks I might like and he’s always bang on!

Like all, we’ve butted heads, some big stuff, some small, but we’ve managed to work our way through it all. I’m not quite sure I deserve him, but I’m so glad to have him in my life. I’m proud of who he is. I like the man he’s become. And in addition to being a good son, he’s a good dad who puts his boys first always.

If you haven’t called your mom today, pick up the phone. I can guarantee it will mean a whole lot more today than on ’mother’s day’!


They think I show up for the food. Completely understandable. I am not known for my skills in the kitchen and #1 son is a better than average cook, but it’s actually the kitchen table that draws me.

I grew up at the kitchen table. It’s part of my history, part of who I am. Food, friends, work, play – it all happened at the kitchen table. My family was shaped at the kitchen table.

The boys all come together for supper. The phones are put to one side and they sit – not just to eat – but to laugh, to fight, to share stories about their day, to make observations on life.

I feel them move away from me as they grow older. Not unexpected – it’s the natural order of things I believe – but still, I miss the little guys who cuddled close and shared pretty much everything with their Grammy. The kitchen table is where I go to hold onto them just a little bit longer, to still be part of their lives. That’s why I show up.

And on the rare occasion there are leftovers, I get a package to take home for tomorrow’s lunch. Twice loved!

… if you were to be as silly as me and ponder the value of your kitchen table, would they be good thoughts?

Close the door for now … you can always open it again later

During Christmas, Little Bear spent a couple nights with me. When he came to my room and crawled in beside me, I didn’t question why. I am always happy for his company, always wonder if this will be the last time he needs me … so I cherish his presence. Sometimes we chat. That night it was late. We settled down quickly. He asked me to close the door.

I can’t sleep with the door closed.

Well, I can’t sleep with it open. If it’s closed, nothing can get in.

So I closed the door. Funny though, I like to sleep with the door open so I can see what’s coming.

Open door … closed door. Wonder what that says about us. How about you? Do you sleep with your door open? Or do you sleep with your door closed?

Random thoughts.

Mouse in the House

It’s almost impossible for me to sit and do nothing. I would be a poor candidate for yoga or meditation. That said, I probably need it more than most. How sweet it must be to have a quiet mind. Such is not my pleasure I fear; to still the rats in the attic, the hands have to keep busy.

To keep those hands well satisfied while I took a break from soaping, I’ve been doing a little crafting. Found this cute mouse pattern on Pinterest and so it began. Not that I am a fan of rodents; a mouse or a hamster would not be a welcome guest. I declared all out war on the last furry little creature who came to visit. A trip to the local hardware for sticky pads and rat traps ensured victory for the home team and the beast lies rotting somewhere in the field out back. Good riddance! The Pinterest characters, however, are cute and fun to have around.

One thing led to another – as it usually does with me – and I decided the mice needed a home. Found an old drawer, had Mr. J partition the building, and construction began. Yesterday I papered the upstairs bedroom and built a bed. Today I sewed curtains and bedding. Sent a couple pics to Jackie, my #1 consult. ”Cute. why are you making them?” No reason. ”What will you do with them?” Nothing. No plans. I just enjoy the doing.

My mother was a big reader. Every night at bedtime she sat at the head of the stairs between the two bedrooms – boys on the right – girls on the left – and she either sang to us or read to us. One more story, Mom. One more song. Sadly, I wasn’t gifted with her beautiful voice, but her love of books and a good story we all inherited. To nurture our interest, she bought quite a few ‘book sets’ – big books with lots of stories. I’ve seen them often in recent years at yard sales. No one wants them anymore. But we sure did. We read them all – several times over I suspect. Fairy tales, fables, bible stories, mythology, classics … so many great stories. In addition to these, she’d also purchased a big old set of encyclopedias, Encyclopedia Britannica, I believe. They were used not only as intended, but for so much more. Big thick brown books made great Barbie beds, perfect dollhouse walls, highways and runways. Creative play at its best. Making a mouse house from an old drawer, paper, cardboard, glue and scraps of fabric is not such a stretch. Twice loved. We shall see how it progresses before I lose interest.

The Little Things

It’s a slow quiet day. There’s nothing huge happening. No incredible excitement on the horizon. Just a quiet sense of calm. Most of my days are so. And I guess that IS huge and certainly worth celebrating.

I recently purchased some second hand soap making supplies to try my hand at something different. So pleased with my first results I will most definitely try more.

Honey and oatmeal soap. Quite nice to use, actually. And because 🍯 made me think of bears, I pulled out some scraps of felt, thread, and my sewing needle.

Hunny Bears

Crafting … soap moulds … twice-loved

Countdown to Christmas

Goodness, it’s been a while since I posted but this has most definitely been a different kind of year. As we count down to Christmas and 2021, I hope we find ourselves healing both physically and spiritually and in a much better place. In my own little corner, I’ve been very fortunate. COVID 19 has not had the huge impact it has had in so many other parts of the world. I count my blessings.

And today another countdown is on. I decided yesterday that it was time to embrace the spirit of Christmas And all things red and green. I actually decked the halls a couple weeks ago, knowing that after a scheduled surgery I would be limited in what I could do. But the festive feeling didn’t really kick in until yesterday.

I bought a couple Christmas books for the boys this year and already passed one along to their father as a read aloud moving into the big day.

Yesterday they agreed I could read them the first couple chapters. This is not insignificant as they are all big time gamers who had absolutely no interest in tearing themselves away from their screens to sit beside Gram and listen to a Christmas story. But they are also big time readers which played to my advantage and they love their Gram a wee bit so they gathered round. They are good boys with big hearts. They are also laddy-os. Dad joined us too.

And so I started. About a dozen words in and … “Heard it before. Read it last year.” And so on …. But treasures that they are, they agreed to sit and listen until I got to this one line:

But if you are one of those people who believe that some things are impossible you should put this book down right away. It is most certainly not for you.

And with that, all four of them jumped up at the exact same moment and made to leave the room. How could four males – ages 8 to 37 – all have the same silly sense of humour? The boys are most definitely their father’s sons! It was quite funny though and they did come back and punish out a chapter or two.

But the last laugh will be Gram’s. I have two more books.

Twice loved!

blue ain’t your colour …



Hello February! You are the best month! How could you not be with your big day on the 14th? February, you are all about hearts. Broken hearts, healing hearts, uncertain hearts, hopeful hearts and hearts just bursting with love! February, you recognize them all!

You celebrate love, February, and what better way to celebrate than with country music? On this beautiful sunny winter’s day, I salute you, not with your many shades of pinks and reds, but with a nod to blue.

So here’s to blue, to country, and to all things twice-loved.

but I know, February, I know …

pretty as it is, blue ain’t your colour!




a stitch in time … or poke the pig (sheep)

I have an auntie who de-stresses by ‘organizing’ the pins in her pincushion. I’d never heard that one but to each his own. Whatever works. I do have a voodoo doll that a friend brought me back from a visit to New Orleans years ago and I occasionally give it a poke. Helps. Sometimes. 😉 Sometimes I just say ‘frig it’. You can try and try and try with some people but at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what you do, you’re still gonna do it wrong. If I poke the pig, which I guess I do, it’s not intentional, so I try not to worry about it too much. It’s not on me. It’s on the pig.

Speaking of pigs, The Chinese Zodiac is based on a twelve year cycle and we will soon be exiting the Year of the Pig. I’ve had a lovely start to this new calendar year, pig or no pig. Quite busy with a zillion projects underway at once. The pincushion is one such project. All hand stitched. Not sure I would call it twice-loved exactly as the fabrics are all new, but it is certainly something I envision being used for a long, long time. I have a pincushion my mom made years and years ago. Definitely twice-loved. Still use it. Pincushions are not something you replace often. This one is so cute though, I just might bring it into service!