Monday, January 10, 2011


SNOW .....WHITE....WITH GOLDEN HIGHLIGHTS. That's in the wood, not the hair salon! Although the Golden Retriever color is what I crave.

Dream days of winter

The gift of our dogs...they get us out and about. They expose us to the beauty that surrounds us..everyday.

Sisters sharing the joy!

Love.Sparkles. Engagement. Romance. Proposal. Love. Thrills. Dream Plan. Laugh. Parties. It seems like yesterday.

Crunchy white the woods with Daisy and Fitzy.......peaceful. So fresh.First footprints. Scent-sational for 2 happy playfil pup

No way!

Biff and I had our first invitation to an engagement party....for an old friend's "little girl".....Yikes! We had a delightful time with our friends, their family and lots of old friends...old friends, not OLD friends. Although it does depend on one's perspective!
The party was at a very toney club.....afterwards we had some fun back at the house with an intimate group of close family friends.....did I mention that it was semi formal? Oh...I didn't. Either did Biff. Thankfully, I was dressed appropriately. But WOW......I don't even want to think about what little mix up could have taken place!

The morning light is here. The snow. The sky. It's cold this morning. Just as Grace and T.J. walk through the deep, still fluffy snow leaving a trail all the way to the road, I realize that Grace is up to her ankles and she's wearing her brand new, back-ordered Christmas present....pale pink suede mocs lined with fleece that envelopes her foot in coziness. Grace wears no socks. Not necessarily her fashion statement as I had understood it for the last year or so....I just was notified by Grace that she finds it difficult to sort through so many socks.

Throughout these transitional teen years, my very own daughter does show real signs of being my daughter. Unlike other teenage moments and mother/daughter fantastic fiery words, so easily misconstrued and blown out of proportion, I am convinced that she is truly my daughter and not switched at birth like it seems as she seems when she is that other girl....the teenager with wild opinions and observations. I understood because of the socks. It all made sense. Her fashion statement. It has been because of our sock frenzy in our house. Not that she is different from any teenager morphing into her own's just that some days I look at my sweet girl and think....WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE DID YOU COME FROM? 

I understood because of the socks. It all made sense. Her sockless fashion statement came to be all because of our family sock issues!  We have sock frenzy in our house. Believe me, we are not lacking socks. We have oodles. I learned the hard way. For years, I bought only the cutest and most colorful patterned socks. A plethora of patterns...argyles, polka dots, stripes, florals ...and that's not including the seasonal socks for the family. Jolly santa socks, valentine socks, shamrock socks, American flag socks, sailboat socks....all reflecting our festive spirit throughout the year. That had to end.



<em>American Flag Socks</em>

Now, I have learned that white sport socks are the way to go. All the same. Except, sometimes I forget and buy the same style, different brand. While searching for my own pair of socks last week I came up with 7 different white socks, white with pink logo, white with gray logo, white with gray at heel and toe, white with pucker mid foot, white with wide band, white with no band, white with thin band....and that was just the start.
I like Grace's style. I like how she can adapt herself in different circumstances. I like that she is a free spirit. I like that she won't be held down by details. I like that she has priorities. I like that she works things out. I like that she has confidence in her choices. I like that she doesn't sweat the small stuff. I like that she doesn't miss the bus for the sake of socks. I
Grace is my daughter. I am sure of it. She has just tromped through the snow, with her toasty suede slippers lined and fluffy, warm and toasty...with no socks. I called to her a she lifted one foot out of the snow, preparing to plow forward, "Grace, why don't you walk down the driveway?" She turned to look at me. She gave me that look and muttered, "Mommmm." I know that look. I gave it to my mom. I recognized that tone. I gave it to my mom. Sometimes I wonder where she came from. Sometimes. Not today.