The wrong shoes, short pants and a lovely day

Long day, short blog. This morning, Palm Sunday, one of the high holy days of Christianity, I went to church in tennis shoes. Mind you, I didn't mean to--when I dressed I thought I looked rather nice: black top with my squash blossom necklace, cream slacks, and I planned to wear black shoes. Then Jacob and I got into the long pants/short pants discussion (heated, with much talk about casting blame on others) and I ended up at church still wearing my tennis shoes, Jacob in short pants with his long pants stuffed in my purse to hand over to his mother for the birthday party after church. Wondered if I should have made a sign that said, "I just had foot surgery." But it would have been fudging--I've been wearing other shoes. Probably no one noticed but me--and Jordan when I pointed it out. I took Jacob, in his short pants, into the sanctuary because the children were processing with palms and singing a song about the little gray donkey--presumably the one Jesus rode into Jerusalem. He liked that but soon after his dad had to take him to the day-care class. He's not ready for a whole church service yet.
Tonight, twelve of us for barbecue, potato salad, beans, and assorted appetizers--such fun to have all my neighbors on the porch, laughing and enjoying. They all talk at once, with the result that I don't hear much of what is said. But I sit back, sip my wine, and enjoy the camaraderie. I really watched what I ate but even so ate  more than I meant to: split a barbecue sandwich with Susan, potato salad, no beans, too much chip and dip, and a delicious Spanish cheese that Cathy from down the street brought. We were a group ranging in age from thirty to me, the senior citizen, plus five-, four- and one-year olds. Jacob was the five and the two from next door were the younger ones. Grayson is so ready to walk but just can't quite do it--adorable.
Late in the evenng, Sue, Jay and Susan, and Brannon (next door to the east) lingered, and I got to visit. Jordan had done much of the clean-up--I may never give a party without her. And Susan cleared the table. I had the house back in reasonable shape by 9:30--and I sent people home with all that food I shouldn't eat. Kept just a bit of potato salad!
What more could one ask than family, friends, and good food plus a lovely evening to be on the peorch. Last year it went suddenly from being too cold to being too hot for the porch, but so far this year we've had several good porch evenings. I love it. God is good.

A moment to savor

Jacob is telling Maddie, my oldest grandchild, some secret--from the way he looked at me, I know it had to do with me, but the picture is so cute I'll forgive him if he was saying, once again, "she's old."

Jordan invited a few friends over tonight for drinks and snacks on my porch to celebrate her birthday tomorrow--my St. Patrick's Day baby. But Jordan's small parties always turn large, and there were probably 25 here, including quite a few children who ran and played on the front lawn and had a high old time. Two episodes of beach balls going into the street--one meant David, Jordan's first-ever boyfriend and still so dear to us, walked over a block to get the ball that kept rolling and rolling. The second time, a ball that is apparently beloved by four-year-old Abby next door sailed down the street, crossed the street, jumped the curb and tumbled down the incline into the parking lot behind the school--I watched its path in awe because the ball seemed to have a life of its own, twisting and turning as it would. Abby and her mother drove to get it because Abby was distraught. I'm always glad to see Jordan's friends, most of whom are dear to me. Lacey decided I should not be on my feet (well, I said the doctor said that) so every time I sat down she was in front of me with a stool or chair for me to put my foot up. And when I tried to clean the kitchen, she  yelled at me--she confessed that to Jordan. But she and Amy did yeoman's work cleaning up, and I have only a few things to attend to tomorrow. My heartfelt thanks to them.
Jamie and his family arrived long after I'd given up on them coming--traffic from Dallas was awful, as usual. But after most people had left, the grandchldren entertained us. Jacob is a great showman, and he did his hip hop moves for us--he's really pretty good. Then Edie did the splits and the  yoga pose, crow, and Maddie demonstrated how seventh graders dance these days. Great hilarity.
The moment to treasure came at the end of the evening when Jamie dragged out the old box of family photos that's behind the chair in my room--some of the kids have gone through and taken their childhood pictures but not all. He delighted in going throiugh the pictures, exclaiming about this person and that place and remembering instances and toys and people from their childhood. It made me happy to realize once again what a good childhood they had and how fondly they remember it and the people and dogs involved--there were a lot of dogs. Jame was particularly interested in how old people were and, of course, in many pictures his father and I were younger than he is now by quite a bit. That astounded him. He saw pictures of his brother as a toddler with one foot in the commode, pictures of himself as a fifth grader (dig that hair!), pictures of his older sister at what he called "an  unfortunate period of her life" (bad hair, bad glasses) and getting ready for her senior prom, and a picture of his baby sister crawling through the space left in a multi-paned swinging door after he kicked out one panel accidentally. All those memories--such good times. It occurs to me that today we don't save boxes of photos--they're all digital. I wonder how, forty years from now, the grandchildren will be able to go through them and say, "Remember? That was Aunt Jordan's birthday party on the porch!" And maybe Jacob will remember how he always told me I was old when I wasn't!
Anyone want leftover chili/cheese dip?