Toby - Ugh!

Toby has been miserable lately.  He's been scratching and shaking his head and flapping his ears for a month.  I thought maybe he had a yeast infection in his ears and began treating them with some drops but that didn't seem to help much.  He was scratching his beard and his shoulders.  Then, he started licking his feet incessantly.  Next came biting at his hips to the point that he had bald patches and sores. 

We tried an expensive grain-free, potato-free dog food to no avail.  We put him on an all-meat diet and still no relief.  The groomer came and cut his hair down short and even that didn't help like it has in the past. 

So, on Tuesday I broke down and took him to the veterinarian to get it checked out.  Dr. Paul said we were on the right track thinking that he has allergies but he probably isn't allergic to his food.  He probably just has seasonal allergies. 

He got a close examination and a shot of cortisol.  Within twenty-four hours he was no longer scratching.  He still shakes his head, flapping his ears some but not nearly like he was doing at all.  In fact, it is almost as if he is back to what is somewhat normal for him.

Of course, there are still issues...

When Mike first retired, he said Toby would watch me get in the truck and back up to go out the drive and then would trot right into the den and jump up on the couch.  Of course, I would fuss about it and finally Mike started making him get down.  However, when neither of us are at home, he would camp out on the couch.  So, I started booby-trapping it to keep him off.

He shifted his lounging spot to the chair in our bedroom.  So, I set up a barrier to keep him off it.

Then, one day last week, I came home and noticed that somebody had wadded up the quilt that lays at the foot of the bed.  This was when he was still licking his feet, so I could see some stains on the quilt and knew that Toby had been up on the bed.  I raised a ruckus about it and Mike defended Toby saying he didn't believe Toby had done that.  The very next morning, Mike got out of the shower and there he was.  Mike told me that he looked in the bedroom and there was Toby, "up on there like it was HIS bed!"  So, that afternoon when I got home from work, this is what I found:

That afternoon, the magazines and pillows were off the couch. 

So, I'm on the lookout for a hefty crate and Toby is going to be enjoying some time in there while we are out of the house.  I do intend to win!

What is that beeping?

Mike and I were catching up yesterday.  He was catching up on sleep with a nap.  I was catching up on my email and cleaning out my inbox.  I heard this beeping noise.  Since I recently upgraded my phone, I thought it was some sort of notice.  Because I am not like SOME people and am not married to my phone, I ignored it.

A few minutes later, another beeping.  Again, I ignored.  With the third beeping notice, Mike told me to go find my phone and see who was contacting me - just in case there is an emergency.

I got my phone and did some checking and there were no notifications.  Hmmm...

Then, as I was returning to the den, the beeping began again...and it was coming from the kitchen.

The new fridge has an alarm to let us know that a door is ajar!  How about that?

This is just another feature of our new fridge that I really am thrilled to have.  You may recall that a couple of weeks ago I mentioned that our old fridge stopped working.  Well, I said, Let me just say that and nothing more...  It looked a little bit like this on that morning when the temperatures were well below freezing:

Classy look for the back porch, don't you think?

You might recall that I was telling my daughter about the experience and she had A Word to the Wise.  All our food didn't get out there on the back porch without a fuss.  No.  No it did not.

You see, Mike seemed to think this was my duty.
He seemed to think I should stay home from work.
He seemed to think I should put all the food in coolers in an effort to try and prevent waste.
He seemed to think I should be the one who shopped for a new fridge.
He seemed to think I should be the one who ordered it.
He seemed to think I cared a lot more about the fridge other than that it keep stuff cold than I did.
He seemed not to realize that I was already furious  really angry  pretty mad  quite frustrated that the darn fridge had stopped working.

So, there were...

Words.

Not-Nice Words.

...before I stomped  trekked  journeyed quickly downstairs to drag a couple of coolers up to the kitchen.  There might have been some mumbling involved as well.

Then, there were more...

Words.

Not-Nice Words.

And, I stormed off  whirled out the door  departed for work.

Then, at about lunchtime I got a call from Mike who told me that he had moved the food from the freezer side of the fridge to a cooler and had done a bit of checking and he thought I needed to call D.T. McCall and Sons and order a new fridge.  The fridge of my choice.  The fridge of my dreams.  The fridge of all fridges.

So, instead of breaking for lunch, I hovered over my computer searching for just that fridge.

Then, I called Mike and asked him for dimensions - to make sure the one I had picked would fit.  After measuring, he called me back to report.  Then, he asked...

"Is it white?"

Of course, it was.  I wanted it to match the cabinets.

"Does it have an ice and water dispenser in the door?"

No, I really don't want that.

"But, I do.  That is a must!"

Silence.  Dead silence.

So, I hung up the phone.
There might have been some mumbling involved.
There also might have been some...

Words.

Not-Nice Words.

I called and spoke with a sales representative named Mark.  He was helpful and answered all my questions and took my bank card number and promised next day delivery.

I got home from work that afternoon and cleaned the remainder of the fridge out, salvaging what was salvageable, and putting it into coolers or setting it on the back porch table.

The next afternoon, the new fridge arrived and the two nice young delivery fellows allowed me enough time to suck up the fuzz and dust bunnies and to mop the gunk that was left behind after the old fridge was removed.

Then, there it was!

...all clean and shiny and beautiful...and most important of all...

COLD!

I spent about a half hour taking out all the Styrofoam and plastic and tape.

Then, I dragged those coolers in off the back porch and placed the food in the clean, shiny, new fridge and freezer compartments.  

 

via

I organized it and spent time thinking and deciding where things should go.

 

via

I had to think about where that fancy shelf that would slide back and forth for tall items might go.

 

via

I had to think about what would go in the top sliding drawer of the freezer and what would go in the bottom drawer of the freezer.

After a couple of weeks, I must say that it is a great fridge.  I like almost everything about it.

The fridge of my our choice.  The fridge of my our dreams.  The fridge of all fridges.

I even like that little beeping noise that means...

Let me just say that and nothing more

Yesterday was not a pretty one.

Let me just say that and nothing more.

Well, let me just add this part...

At the end of my school day...as I was walking to my truck...I happened to glance down at the ground and saw - not one, but two - yes, two pennies lying there.

"Find a penny.  Pick it up.  All day long you will have good luck." That phrase sing-songed  in my head till I stopped and picked them up.

So, the day wasn't totally awful.

Today is looking better.

I got to sleep late.  Well, sort of...

I woke up at 3:40 A.M. and my old body was aching and my head was stuffy.  So, I took a couple of pain-reliever tablets and an antihistamine, grabbed a quilt and went to prop myself up on the couch to try to sniffle and go back to sleep without waking Mike.

However, good old Toby had other ideas.  He knew I didn't get back in bed.  How?  Your guess is as good as mine.  Maybe he didn't hear me snoring breathing right there in the bed near his crate.  Who knows?

Just as I was about to doze off...Toby started whining and yipping and begging to be let out of his crate.

So, I went back in there to him and pointed my finger at him and told him in a firm and authoritative manner to hush.  (Translation: Me standing in front of his crate, wearing one of Mike's t-shirts with my hair sticking out in all directions like Medusa, growling at him to shut up or I would make him be really sorry that he woke up Mike...and there may have been an expletive...or two.)

That worked.

Until I got snuggled back under the quilt and situated in a propped up manner on my pillows and just about dozed off again.

Then, I had to stomp back in there and repeat my reprimand and add in a kick to Toby's crate and closed the closet, the bathroom, and the bedroom doors.

I doubt that worked either, but I didn't hear him anymore until 9:00 A.M. this morning!

Mike was already just about finished with his morning feeding chores.  So, I offered to make sausage, biscuits, and gravy for breakfast.

I puttered round and was ready for the milk to make the gravy.  So, I went out on the porch to get the milk and juice off the table and waved at Mike as he came out of the barn.  As I stirred up the gravy, I noticed that the milk had a few ice crystals in it when I was finishing up that gourmet meal.  So, Mike and I conversed about the chill of the morning and I set the gravy on the table just as he had removed his barn boots, washed his hands, and was sitting down to eat.

What a team we are!  Synergy!

Wait, you say...What?

Yes, the milk and juice and all of the cold foods were stored on the back porch last night - most in coolers but the milk and juice jugs just sat out on the table.  Oh, did I forget to mention that our refrigerator stopped working night-before-last?

Yes.  Yes it did.

Timing

I've always heard that things happen in good time.  I often wonder whose good time?

You see, I have a timeline that I want to meet.  I have a schedule.  I plan out my projects and fit them into my schedule.

My parents used to remind me when I was younger and was waiting on something I'd prayed for that my timeline and God's timeline might be just a little bit different.

It seemed that my Daddy's five minutes were always a lot longer than my five minutes.

My Mama's minutes seemed different than mine when she would tell me, "Just a minute."

I think the same held true when my children were growing up.  Their timeline seemed to have a different clock ticking than mine did.

Now I'm noticing that my husband's timeline seems just a bit off from mine as well.

When he wants my help with something, his clock seems to tick at a feverish pace.

Yet, when I want his help with something, his clock seems to slowly tick like those slow-motions replays in a ball game.

Why is that?

Mother's Day Message

 Yes, I know that Mother's Day was last month.  I even acknowledged it with a post...

Oh no!  I didn't set it to publish and it is still sitting in my drafts!  Sorry Mama!  

I did go see my Mama and spent a little time with her on THE day.  We also spent a little time with Mike's mother on THE day as well.  My children both came to see me on Saturday before and spent a little time with me and that was wonderful as well.

I think I am just old and forgetful and didn't publish the post I drafted... or maybe it was because I have been feeling poorly.  Yes, I'm still struggling with this darn sinus/ear infection mess that started in mid-April.  That will be my excuse and I'm sticking to it!

Anyway, I was thinking of my Mama this morning as I was wandering round the back yard and sipping coffee.  No, that is not something my Mama ever did nor does - because she is allergic to coffee.  But, I was wandering round and deadheading and dumping out the water to keep my geraniums from "getting wet feet" and just picking and poking at my plants.  THAT is something that my Mama does.  She doesn't just go outside and take a book or her digital tablet reading material or a good old fashioned magazine and veg out with a cup of coffee and soak up the great outdoors relax and sit idly for hours to take in the beauty of nature - like I do.  She tends to wander round, often with a plastic bucket and some clippers, and picks and pokes at her flowers.

Anybody could tell that, too.  Her flower beds are beautiful.  They look like some sort of botanical garden or park.  Even though she says she isn't a big fan of the color green, nobody would ever believe that because she certainly has a green thumb and enjoys all sorts of greenery and growing plants.  She loves roses and has transformed an old, rugged, scraggly, rough bank in her back yard into a beautiful rose garden complete with a sweet statue surrounded by soft pink shrubbery and roses and backed by a whimsical birdhouse and a fence with an heirloom rose that came from her grandfather climbing all over the lattice.

That thumb and her plant knowledge is one of those things that must have turned out to be incidental learning for me because I never recall having a lesson on how to pick and poke at your flowers.  I just recollect that Mama has always done that.  She usually does it early in the morning (not as early these days as when we were milking a herd of cows) and late in the afternoons.  I don't recall that she ever told me to think about all the angles landscaping and flowers would be seen from and to consider that when planting, either.  But, it is something that I seem to consider when I am laying out what I want to grow and the plants I hope will return with a little nurturing.

I've heard her talk about how weeding is therapeutic for her because she can just imagine that each weed is something or somebody who frustrates her and she yanks them out for disposal.  (That is where the plastic bucket comes in.  Mama puts every weed, spent flower bloom, dead stem, etc. in that bucket and then dumps it into a hole or gully somewhere not just to level up the ground but usually in preparation for another flower bed in the future - no fancy commercially produced compost bin for her.)

Mama has always loved natural elements like rocks and found bits of glass or pottery and enjoys cultivating bulbs and perennials because that gives her something to look forward to and anticipate the beauty of each year.  She always wants to share and has supplied me with plants for several different flower beds time and time again.  She also has shared with friends and neighbors and there is no telling where-all her plants have wound up.  I think that is a family thing but the tale of the journey of the Aunt Mae lily is a story for another day.

Just last week when I was at Mama's getting her to help me with another chore that had nothing to do with beauty or blooms or flowers, she INSISTED that I dig up "a couple of these little shrubs and take them home."  My lazy-self protested because I had on my new flip-flops and my congested sinuses and infected ears were making me feel a little dizzy and I just was being plain lazy, I guess.  I even pointed out that I didn't have a clue where I would plant the shrubbery.  I was wasting my breath, however, and was pointed to a shovel and meticulously bossed, ahem...well supervised on how and where to dig up these little shrubs.  "It will be really easy and take hardly any time at all.  Here, do you want me to do it (...with my ailing back and hip that I go to therapy every other day of the week to try to relieve the excruciating pain and my replaced knee - no she didn't say this but I thought it...)?"  She even knew exactly where I needed to plant them and directed me to do so as soon as I got them home so they wouldn't dry up.  So, I had absolutely no choice and began digging with my cute, new flip-flops and my vertigo and congested, shortness of breath.

Then, I trekked home grumbling and cursing under my breath and put on my old gardening shoes and stomped to the barn and got my own shovel and dug holes in the thick, rock-hard-clay-where-nothing-but-Bermuda-grass-grows for the three little shrubs.  I called and asked my bonus son, Stephen, to bring home a couple bags of good soil to fill in the over-sized holes I had dug for these little shrubs.  It was right at closing time for their store and I could tell he didn't want to have to drop everything and load up a couple of bags of soil to bring home to worrisome old me.

In a while, though, here he came with the soil.  Just as I had gotten good and hot and was just short of gasping for breath and was reeling with dizziness and plopped on the steps of our back porch, he pulled up in a spray of gravel and shouted, "Where do you want this dirt, Devil Woman?"  (That is his pet name for me.  Should I be flattered to have a pet name?)  So, between gasps, I pointed toward the little shrubs lying beside the holes I had dug.

Unceremoniously, Stephen walked over and plopped the bags down right beside the holes and asked me where I had gotten such "nice little Princess Spireas."  I let him know in no-uncertain-terms that MY MOTHER had FORCED me to dig them up and bring them home and plant them - between gasps, of course.  First there was silence.  Dead silence.  Then, his response was, "Well, you are lucky.  That is what we have planted right around the store and those little things are expensive.  They have these little pink blooms on them all summer long.  Don't you like pink?  I think you will like them.  That was nice of her to give them to you and you didn't even have to buy them."

So, I wound up feeling like the lazy, ungrateful, ill-tempered child we all are at times.  

I hope I can remember this and not be that way again.  

(I wonder how many times I've thought that?) 

And, I hope I can remember this when my own children (and bonus children) are behaving that way so that it doesn't pique my ire.

I guess the Mother's Day Message really is that it doesn't matter what day of the calendar year it is, when we are mothers, we mother every single day.  All the time.  Even when we don't realize it.

We don't realize what we are learning from our own mothers.  

We don't realize that we are incidentally teaching our children.

We sometimes don't realize what our children are teaching us either.  

However, when we do realize it, we need to be more appreciative 

and we need to realize it 

and we need to recognize it far more often than we do.  

Thanks, Mama!

P.S.  As soon as the pretty little pink blooms come back out on the Princess Spirea, I will try to remember to take a photo and post it.  Right now they are suffering a bit from the shock of the move and a couple of inches of rain that we have been blessed with during the past couple of days.  I hope my thumbs are at least a little bit chartreuse or olive or even weed-green and can make these gifts thrive like my Mamas have!

This message was brought to you this morning by a deep, robust cup of coffee, wanderings through my fledgling-back-yard-flowers, and...

...thoughts of my Mama.

Some links to past Mother's Day posts are:

Mother's Day Leftovers

In Honor of My Mother

Project that shouldn't have been a project...

I think we all have had these.  It started out as something simple, beautiful, and thoughtful.  Then, by some force of nature accident stupidity, it became a bit more frustrating, complicated, and labor intensive. 

You see, I made a wonderful choice when we had Mike's family Christmas gift exchange.  His niece, Julie, had created one of those cool collages where natural things become letters which spell out some meaningful word and I was the lucky selector in our Dirty Santa game.  The great news is - nobody stole it away from me and I got to bring it home!  Yippee!!!

It is the cutest thing and she was so crafty.  I'm not sure where she found the lettering but she did and printed it out to fit into 4 x 6" pictures. 

I wonder if this Z is off some concrete sign.

I think she got inexpensive frames and painted them (or she could have found the simple frames all the same color - I'm not sure.) in a creamy white.  She got a board and painted it red.  After she placed the letters into the frames, she simply glued them onto the board and had instant art.  I just love it. 

This R is a piece of neon signage.

Well, I was excited to get this treasure in our gift swap.  I brought it home and leaned it against the wall till I could decide where I wanted to hang it.  Finally, I decided that this was what the space above the French doors leading onto the back porch had been screaming out a need for.  (I've wanted something to hang there ever since I painted the kitchen.)  So, I tested it out by getting my trusty little step ladder and holding it up to make sure it would fit.  Perfect!  It was almost as if she had made it expressly for that space. 

So, I leaned it up against the table and went back to stir whatever I had on the stove in my dinner preparations.  Shortly after, Mike came in the back door.  The dog ran to greet him.  He closed the door, the floor was jarred a bit.  The earth moved.  Something happened and the artwork tipped over and crashed to the floor.  I do mean crashed!  Two of the cute little frames were knocked off the board.  The piece of glass in one of the frames broke into shards.  I was so mad...at myself for being so stupid as to leave the artwork precariously leaning there. 

So, the next day, I had to find one of my old cheap Goodwill frames and steal the glass from it and replace the broken glass and glue the frames back in place before I could hang it in the space it was made expressly to decorate.

And that is how a project became a project when it shouldn't have been a project at all.

Pondering a TV

Mike has been wanting a TV in the kitchen for almost a year now.  I have grown to agree that it would be a nice thing to have - a luxury we could enjoy. 

First we had the dilemma of where would be the best place to put it.  Well, the best place to put it would not really make it easy to watch when we are spending time in there!  Mike, of course, had a strong idea of where he wants it before he even brought up the subject with me.  So, the location is already decided.  Plus, he already has in mind who he wants to install the whole shebang!

I am going to have to move around some of my decorative plates.  I've also pondered the idea of where the box which brings the satellite programming in should go.  I think Mike wants to have it installed and look sort of like one in a hospital room looks.  You know with that big black metal arm/bracket/pedestal thingy?  He is very utilitarian but that is not really the look I want in my kitchen. 

So, I have been doing some investigating and pondering.  Not only do we need to deal with the box which brings the programming in from the satellite, we will also have to deal with the mounting bracket and the cords.  I don't want a jumble like what I have behind the cabinet where the TV in the den sits.  It looks sort of like this before image from House of Hepworths:


They solved the problem as you can read in their blog. 


So, I have been searching and looking and pinning ideas and tutorials on Pinterest.  The folks over at Gus and Lula have a good tutorial for framing and hiding their TV above the mantel.  I don't really want to disguise mine - just make it look finished and tidy.  I also noticed what they did over at The Harpster Home and thought that looked promising.  High Definition Framing has a simplistic idea for framing the TV.  I think I like the polished and finished look of how Full of Great Ideas framed their TV.  All of these still leave me with the need for a place to store the satellite box, though. 

 

Basically, the TV will go where that blue box is drawn near the window.  So, I guess I could put the box atop the china cabinet. 

I've also been looking into something that has been advertised on TV pretty heavily lately.  It is offered by Direct TV and is a box which will allow users to DVR up to five programs at a time.  Of course that is something we would rarely need since we don't watch that much TV.  The new and shiny box is called a Genie and with other TVs in the house, users could simply add a Mini Genie to have the same capabilities as the main TV.  After calling the Direct TV folks, I learned that the Mini Genie is about the same size as a paperback book.  I like that idea.  Maybe it won't be so hard to locate the control box after all...

Does anybody have ideas or suggestions for my dilemma? 

Plus, what is the deal with Blogger lately?  I cannot resize my photos!

Sick of being sick

I've been feeling poorly most of this new year.  I started out with sinus and ear infections and went to the walk-in clinic on the second where I was prescribed some medicine with a BAD TASTE.  I have been spoiled by the quick response of antibiotics to make me feel better when I'm feeling yucky.  So, when the antibiotics didn't work within a couple of days to make me feel almost well, I was frustrated.  Then, when I started feeling even worse and struggling just to breathe, I had Mike take me to the ER.

Here is just a suggestion - do not go to the ER when you are in your fifties, fat, and say that you are having a hard time breathing and you feel like your chest won't expand enough for you to inhale.  Especially don't do that after you have told them that you take blood pressure meds to control your high blood pressure.  Immediately, they think you are having a heart attack and go into EKGs and heart monitors and heart enzymes.  Here I was thinking I might have developed asthma and was having an asthma attack and they were hooking me up to heart monitors!

Finally, after at least four hours (no I am not exaggerating one single bit), I was given a couple of breathing treatments, a steroid shot, and a new prescription and released.  Mike and I got home and climbed into bed - well, actually he flopped in his recliner and I propped up on the couch so I could breathe better - at around two or two-thirty in the morning.

For the first couple of days last week I thought, I'll just take a half-day off in the morning and will feel enough better that I can work in the afternoon.  By the end of the day on Wednesday (and after a visit to my regular family practitioner), I just threw in the towel and took the rest of the week off.  It was a good thing because I spent Wednesday afternoon, Thursday, and Friday in bed - ALL DAY LONG!  Saturday found me able to go to the nearby Dollar General for much needed staples.  I decided on Sunday that I would return to work on Monday or drop dead trying.

Each day finds me feeling a bit better now, but truly, I have never been so sick of being sick!

Bad Taste

Guess who's sickly?

Yep, and I am one of those folks who resists doctors and medicines as much as possible.  I've been schlepping round with 'sinus pressure' for a couple or three weeks.  I would notice the stuffiness in my sinuses when I'd roll over in bed and it seemed like all the fluid in my head On New Year's Day I started REALLY feeling sinus-pressure-to-the-max - even to headache mode. 

So, I crawled out of bed and shuffled to the shower and drug around to get dry and dressed and was out the door to the walk-in clinic by eight o'clock in the morning on January 2nd.  Upon arrival I started to sign in and the girl behind the counter said, "We do not have a provider here as yet.  I just want you to know that we have put a call in and don't know whether one will arrive in minutes or an hour or what."  So, I tromped back out to the truck and went down the street to the local medical clinic.  Nobody was in the waiting room; so, I thought I might have some luck.  I asked the girl behind the counter there if there was a possibility to be a work-in because I was almost positive I have a sinus infection.  She shook her head and said no.  (Do these places just not want business or what is the story with that sort of attitude?  I gave my regular doctor's office (which is a 40-minute drive across town away) a call and learned that he is off on Wednesdays and the Physician's Assistant is slammed but will try to work me in SOMETIME.  So, I just trudged back home and flopped on the couch. 

In a while, at about ten-thirty, the original walk-in clinic called and said the provider had arrived and I could be seen if I wanted to return to the clinic.  I did.  Six prescriptions. 

I had to drive another ten miles to the pharmacy which my insurance is in bed with is in cahoots with is contracted.  The girl at the drive-thru window said I could wait thirty minutes for my meds.  By now it is nearly noon and I have had nothing to eat.  So, I drove through a fast food place and got a roast beef sandwich and a glass of tea.  When I returned to the pharmacy, I only had to wait about ten minutes.  Then, I had to have a pharmacist consult on every single one of the six prescriptions.

I got back home at around one-thirty and crashed on the couch.  I was $160 (plus the $10 for lunch and $3 for Red Box movies) poorer and still felt like crap. 

The most important question I would like answered at this point is:

Why does cough syrup have to have such a B-A-D taste?

Bad Boy!

No words are necessary!

Is it hot enough for you?

I remember as a kid that lots of the grown-ups would ask that question all during the summer.  I always got a little peeved about it because what could they do about it?  If it was hot enough they had nothing to do with the temperature and if it wasn't hot enough they couldn't turn up the thermostat either.  So, I'm not really asking that frustrating question but what I am saying is...

Do you have any idea just how hot it is out there?  To me it is just unbearable.  I know that I have become spoiled having a cushy job sitting in a cushy chair in a cushy air-conditioned school building.  But, today was a day when I was out and about running errands and getting in and out of the vehicle and going from place to place.  So, even today I wasn't really suffering so much out in the sweltering heat.  But let me tell you - it was HOT out there today!

When we got home, this is what I noticed on my back deck:

I know, I know that this was a bit of an exageration.  This was at about three o'clock and the sun was beating down and bouncing off the deck and the side of the house but it really felt that hot to us!  In the three summers I have lived here, I have never witnessed that thermometer showing such temperatures.  So, if you asked me that frustrating question, my answer would be ...

No!

 

Mainly because it is W-A-Y TOO HOT for me!

Happy Birthday Lydia!

Today is your day!

From the first day, we recognized you were a special one...

Your smile is infectious...

You showed your curiosity early on...

Your sense of adventure and tenacity shines...

Sometimes it takes just holding your mouth right...

or a charming grin...

for you to make friends everywhere you go.

Creativity is something that is serious business to you...

so is the appreciation of beauty...

There is nowhere in your heart better than outdoors...

The sunshine couldn't shine brighter.

Your face reveals mischievous ideas...

and discovery...

and intrigue...

and pleasure...

and frustration...

and joy...

and unhappiness.

You are growing up too fast!

Showing your fashionista self

Shopping with a passion...

and styling with attitude.

We are grateful for you...

and appreciate how you brighten our days.

Happy Birthday sweet Lydia girl!