Icing on the cake

I usually enjoy checking the mail in the days leading up to and following my birthday. Not anymore. Take a look at what I found in my mailbox one day after my 27th birthday...

27

What happened to my twenties? I woke up Sunday morning a 27-year-old married mother of a Yorkie. With a house. A mortgage. A profession. A cup of coffee. Whoa. I'm a grown-up. When did that happen?

I miss the birthday celebrations of my childhood. Nothing was more fun than wearing a silly paper hat (to match the silly theme, of course) and opening lots and lots presents. Birthdays were a super-duper-big-deal. Just the way I like them.

Middle and high school birthdays were pretty fun too, and usually involved super-duper-big-deal slumber parties where sleeping was absolutely not an option. I could outlive anyone at a slumber party. By 6:00 a.m. all of my friends were snoozing in their sleeping bags. But I was wide awake, putting toothpaste in their hair, drawing on their faces with lipstick or (my personal favorite) digging through their duffel bags, collecting undies and training bras, soaking them in water and freezing them. Fun times (insert evil laugh here).

College birthdays were by far the best. They were the perfect balance between childhood birthdays and middle/high school birthdays. They were a super-duper-big-deal, they
involved themes, silly hats and outfits, lots and lots of presents (usually in the form of alcohol) and slumber parties in a crowded dorm room with all of your best friends. Man, those were the days.

Now, I am officially in my late twenties. Late. Twenties.

27 arrived quietly. There wasn't a birthday bash at Skatetown USA. I didn't have a theme cake. I didn't even wear a silly hat. No slumber party. Or celebratory shots. No hangover (thank God).

This year I enjoyed cake, takeout sushi and several cards, voicemails and text messages from my sweet family and friends. They always find a way to make me feel like a super-duper-big-deal on my birthday. Even if I am 27.

Crossing the Bar

As many of you already know, Jonathan lost his grandfather last week. Glen Fleenor passed away on March 5 at his home in Roanoke, Virginia. He was a wonderful man who meant so much to so many people. Please continue to pray for Jonathan’s family – Barbara (Glen’s wife), Gail, Tracy and Leslie (Glen’s daughters), all of the grandchildren and Glen’s many close friends and extended family.

When Jonathan was born in 1981 his grandparents said they were far too young to be called Mamaw, Papaw, Nanny or Pappy. And they were. They lived a fast-paced life, spending weekends sipping on cocktails at the country club or dancing the night away at parties. Since Jonathan was their first grandchild, he got to partake in the fun, grown-up life. He spent summers with Glen and Barbara, and was the youngest attendee at many social gatherings. They took him everywhere. Jonathan never called his young, hip grandparents Grandmother or Grandfather. Nope. He kept it simple, referring to them as Glen and Barbara. To this day all ten of the Fleenor grandkids refer to their grandparents by first name. Their names eventually evolved a little though. Barbara is sometimes shortened to “Barbie” and Glen became “Daddy Glen” when Jonathan’s aunt Tracy named her son Glen.

The last time Jonathan and I saw Glen was at our wedding. He was cutting a rug on the dance floor to the tune of “Rocky Top.” Barbara said he couldn't resist the urge to dance when he saw all of the beautiful bridesmaids on the dance floor. He danced the night away with us! Jonathan and I are very grateful for that memory.

Some memories of Glen...


When Jonathan was little Glen interviewed him using a tape recorder. He also kept a notebook filled with the cute things all of this grandchildren said through the years.





Glen and Jonathan at the family condo in Ocean Isle, North Carolina.

Christmas 2007 in Roanoke

Christmas 2007 - Dinner at Mac & Bob's

Summer 2008, Glen and Thomas pickin' and grinnin'

Summer 2008 - Dinner at Mac & Bob's

Family photo at our wedding reception

Dancing to Rocky Top

Jonathan, "Daddy Glen" and "Little Glen" dancing at the reception

I want to share the beautiful poem that Glen chose for his memorial service. The words touched me, reminding me of the journey we each take through life and death, the many family and friends we lose along the way and the promise of being reunited someday.

Crossing the Bar

Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sunset and evening star,

And one clear call for me!

And may there be no moaning of the bar,

When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,

Too full for sound and foam,

When that which drew from out the boundless deep

Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,

And after that the dark!

And may there be no sadness of farewell,

When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place

The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face

When I have crossed the bar.

Happy Holidays! Again.

As I mentioned in my previous post, Thomas is finally home from Iraq. This past weekend Jonathan and I went to Knoxville for his much anticipated return to Tennessee.

Since Thomas missed all of the fall and winter holidays this year, we decided to celebrate all of them at his welcome home get-together. Jonathan's family spent Saturday decorating the entire house in holiday trimmings. There were pumpkins in the laundry room for Halloween. There were turkeys and falling leaves in the kitchen (along with a delicious Thanksgiving dinner). We celebrated Christmas in the den with a cozy fire and Christmas gifts. Yes, the Christmas tree is still up! Then the Collins rang in the 'New Year' in the dining room. We also celebrated Valentine's day with pink and red streamers in the hallway and Thomas' birthday with birthday gifts.

It was fun to re-live the holidays with Thomas there! Welcome home!

Cameron and Braylon stringing red, white and blue lights on some of the plants outside.

Thomas wearing his favorite Christmas gift - an Obama/Biden t-shirt.

The Collins kids blowing their new year's eve party whistles