This summer we have seen more turtles so far than we usually see all summer.
A few weeks ago we saw this turtle.
He was just crossing the dirt road, and though he may not look it he was a pretty big
turtle. A snapping turtle actually, we just assumed he came from he pond down the road.
Then last week, we saw this turtle.
He was just as big as the snapping turtle but I think he is some kind of box turtle, honestly I'm not sure exactly what kind he is, I was just excited to see him. Baby boy wanted to take him to the house but when he tried to pick him up, he hissed at him, so we decided to leave him alone.
Living in the country has it's advantages.
Finished my dresser that was a freebie from my friend.
Here's how she looks before the makeover.
It's super sturdy, but we just didn't want to leave it all boring and brown. So, I tried to decide what color I wanted to paint it.
I really wanted to paint it red, but I couldn't find the shade that I wanted, so I decided to go
with a light grey.
I happened to have that already so I just went with that.
Here she is all painted up and finished.
Isn't she pretty?
I used the original hardware but just painted it with spray paint.
Hammered black, to be exact.
Sorry, I took these with my phone, they look a little blurry.
But all in all, I love how it looks, it actually looks white in the picture but in person you
can tell it's a light grey.
I'm pretty happy with it.
It's amazing how as you get older you start to realize that all that stuff your parents said to you is true.
Like when I was little and thought the days just dragged on, and my mom would say, just wait, you'll see, time goes by so fast.
And she was right, it really does.
Which brings me to how I didn't acknowledge Mr. Wonderful on here for Father's day.
I hope you know how much we love you and what a great dad you are!!
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
I can't believe how fast the time has gone by.
Kids have so many firsts, so many milestones, and I know that this is just one that we will add to her list of accomplishments.
I am so proud of her.
She is my neat freak, my exercise-fitness buff and more than that she is my sweet baby.
I hope she knows that while we want nothing but the best for her, God wants even more for her.
He wants her to be successful in all that she does and happier than we can ever imagine.
While we love her more than anything imaginable, he loves her even more, because he is her heavenly father, and we are just her parents.
Eighteen years have flown by, I can't wait to see what the future holds for her.
Congratulations Baby Girl, we love you and couldn't be prouder!!!
Maybe you have already seen this, but I just heard it and thought it was worth sharing.
Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. One time I arrived in the middle of the night for a pick up at a building that was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked.
“Just a minute,” answered a frail, elderly voice.
I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80′s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
“Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
“It’s nothing,” I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.”
“Oh, you’re such a good boy,” she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?”
“It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.”
I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.
“I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor says I don’t have very long.”
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to take?” I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.”
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You have to make a living,” she answered.
“There are other passengers.”
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
“You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.”
I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware—beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
A true story by Kent Nerburn
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