Got these cute pictures of Poppa, aka Daddy Warbucks, with our very own little Annie (more commonly known as Gemma) and Sandy-the-Family-Dog. And of Poppa-now-bald with grandbebes Hunter, Gemma May and Guinivere (who may or may not be tormenting the dog).
Tsk.
Green Acres is the place to be! Farm living is the life for me. Land spreadin’ out so far and wide Keep Manhattan just give me that countryside!
Were it not for having to be up by 4:30 to milk the cows and feed the horses at 5 and then getting back to the house to fix a big hearty breakfast for all the field hands, if I didn’t have to plow and spread, and sow and till and irrigate and seed and pray for rain and then pray for the rain to stop, if the weather couldn’t wipe out my entire crop in one fell swoop, if I could be guaranteed the livestock would never get disease or freeze to death or escape the fence I needed to have repaired, I’d be a farmer. I really would.
Below is one of those email forwards going around. Made me wish I had my own tractor.
He chose baldness for his role in the upcoming Prairie Playhouse production of Annie as Lt. General Oliver “Daddy” Warbucks. I have long dreaded the day. He got a shorter haircut a couple of weeks ago and shaved all the facial hair to try to “warm me up” to the idea.
Then we gathered the family for the dastardly deed so the grandbebes wouldn’t be freaked out by him, but they kind of are.
A buzz and a Bic and voila. A huge pile of his thick, healthy, black with ever-so-few white hairs was vacuumed up and disposed of as if there is no concern for its future return. And perhaps there is not. For when I had the courage to touch it the following day, it was so thickly populated with little hair buds that it was like Velcro – not at all smooth the way a truly bald man’s head might be.
“It will grow back,” Dave promises me each time he sees me eyeing him warily.
Dave and his Bic are going to have to be very close friends for the next TWO MONTHS! Yikes!….Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: Draw up Nazarite vow pledge papers for when this thing is over at the end of March. Make Dave sign. Tomorrow, tomorrow Dave’s hair will grow back…
Seventy-one years ago today Ressie Belle, widowed just weeks earlier by a tragic automobile accident, cradled you in her arms: a son who would carry on his father’s name, A. Ross Moslander. A tough start during hard times. But you have done that name proud. You’ve lived vigorously, for both yourself and the father you never knew.
No one in the world could ever doubt you were born for God’s purposes, papasan. Since you found Jesus and He found you under that starry sky on Missouri farmland when you were 15, you’ve been on an adventureous journey of faith with all the Type-A, driven energy of an Olympic runner, his eyes set on the prize.
And you have spurred the rest of us along ~ thousands of friends and relatives and acquaintances and church members along the way, but especially your family, us kids. And your zeal burns hot into the next generation, your impact is just getting revved up. I am spending my life trying to keep up with my amazing dad.
You are the Psalms 127 and 128 man, dad. You are the man in Psalms 112: you are blessed and your children are mighty in the land. Your heart is steadfast, trusting in the Lord. Your family is fruitful and growing and you have received so much heritage from the Lord (talk about a full quiver!). Your sons and grandsons are like arrows in your hands – the enemy does not want to contend with you when he sees this army you have unleashed in the land! Look at your children and their children and now their children’s children: we all love you, honor you, respect you and celebrate you!
Happy birthday, holy man. Happy Birthday, my dad and my hero. I love you….Jeanie
NOTE TO SELF: Call dad. Wish him a happy birthday.
Youtube: Got together the other night for dinner and sang to you. Stephanie and Gavin weren’t there, but the rest of us Rhoades-Kelleys-Powers were. Note at the end Rocky saying “I wish you could see me,” because apparently I was obscuring him-which he could have mentioned before we did this! That booger! {And I think Tristan had to ask when we were finished singing if it was for Grandpa Moslander! Haha.}
About 4 1/2 miles away from my humble abode, the Denver Unit of the National Socialist Movement has adopted a 1-mile stretch of highway to keep beautiful. The National Socialist Movement is a pretty name for the Neo-Nazi White Supremists.
I watched the news report and listened to the interview with their leader, and read some articles and looked at pictures of their group. And while the main guy’s message was that they are good people who genuinely want to do good things in the community, I couldn’t help thinking that if this group represents the supreme example of our race, we are in big trouble. And that was one of my nice thoughts. Dave says I am not allowed to say the other ones because he doesn’t want the skinheads putting me on their “list” of people to be mean to. Or else I would.
All I know is, they start picking up trash there today and even though I abhor litterbugs and am a law-keeper through and through (except for speed limits, sometimes) I have a strong urge to start dumping trash in their area. Oh yes, I do. But then I’d feel guilty and take them all some lemonade or something. {sigh}
Sometimes being Christlike just stops me from being me…which, I guess, is the point.
sign in Brighton!
Jon Powers (drums) with Justin Timberlake and Matt Morris on the Hope for Haiti telethon Friday night. Jon is my son-in-law, Dave Powers’ brother.
Such a quiet, sweet, soulful performance of “Hallelujah,” the classic Leonard Cohen song. Tredessa says I simply cannot write the words to the song on this blog. For obvious reasons (some of which Justin left out on his version here).
There is a family debate about whether or not Elvis once sang this song. Stormie is sure of it. And after she said so, I could sort of hear him singing it in my head, too. But Tredessa says Elvis wouldn’t have touched this song with a 10-foot pole (due to risque themes)…and I guess it wasn’t even released until some years past his death. But, so, ok. Stormie and I think Elvis should sing it – if he is still alive.
Nonetheless, Hallelujah!…Jeanie
Do-overs, of course! That is why I write and why I blog. And to inspire, to rant, to rage and to whine unabashedly. I blog to encourage and confess, to get comments (yes, I want comments) and be snippy-if-I-wanna.
I blog to be up close and personal and tell you how adorable my grandbebes are. I like to write about the people I love and write to the people I love. Sometimes I’m mushy. Sometimes I am lamenting and sometimes I have to apologize – publicly! I get to vent, I get to express my incredible opinions, and I get to gripe if I feel like it.
I hope I have made your mouth water with my food posts and infused you with passion or zeal on some amazing topic or another along the way. I mean, after reading Thought Collage, are you anxious to be a grandparent? Do you want to go in deeper in worship? Are you in love with the Word? Do you feel better about your life because I publicly self-deprecate and tell on myself? I hope. I hope. I hope!
I am so grateful for those who wade through the meaningless drivel because they know I have the occasional day of inspired, grapho-epiphanic clarity{you KNOW I made that phrase up, don’t you?} which causes the angelic choirs to break out into song and lives are changed forever for it. Yeah. Those are few and far between. But they happen. Wait for it!
And, finally, I write because I love the words. Not just any words. The exact words that will capture what it is I really want to say. When, oh, when will I actually find those?….
Stormie asked me what witty banter I would have for my 800th blog post? Could she have been mocking me? Naaaaw…surely not.
Thank-you to Tristan, the s-i-l, who got me up and running here at www.jeanierhoades.com on Novemeber 29, 2006. Where would all these words have gone otherwise? Thank-you for letting me say them and giving me a safe place to keep them!
Last Sunday morning 2-year-old Gemma accompanied me to the Cafe at church for coffee. The second we got out of The Garage (the edgy, loud worship venue), she darted across the cafe navigating her way in between hundreds of people, sharing her friendly, “hello”s with strangers and friends alike. She nearly ran right in to Pastor Rob, who avoided the near collision and greeted her like the treasured church member she is. He started to walk on past and then realized perhaps some one who is only 2 ft 9in would not be there alone.
So he looked around and saw me racing to catch up to her. “Are you in charge of this?” he asked, pointing the the little curly-headed girl-of-my-heart.
“I’m trying,” I told him.
“Well, then,” Rob had the guts to tell me, “I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but you’re not very good at it.” Oh, you just wait, Rob Kelly. You just wait!
But the piece de resistance? Once Gemma had strayed so far as to lose sight of me, she turned, scanning the crowd, looking for her Nonna. When we made eye contact, she did that thing she does. She did that adorable thing that melts my heart and makes me beam and makes me look good to the crowds. She yells at the top of her lungs: N O N N A !!!! And she comes running to me and jumps into my arms and we spin around and hug and kiss.
Yep. She makes me look good…like I didn’t just lose her at church on a Sunday morning.
Gavin started piano lessons this week. And Guini is in front of me this second with a microphone singing along to Pomplamooses’ version of “Single Ladies.” If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it; If you like it then you shoulda put a ring on it…
The Kelley kids, whom I love with all my heart, were watching Ratatouille. The food critic in the movie said something like, “Not everyone can cook.” To which Gavin responded openly, “That isn’t true. Anyone can cook if they learn.’
Guini mustered up her strength and outdoor voice to add a very decided addendum (sort of Lucy-from-the-Peanuts-comics style?) which caused all of us to jump: BUT DON’T TOUCH THE PAN!
I will try to remember that…Jeanie (aka “Nonna”)
NOTE TO SELF: Become a better grandbebe-wrangler.
Please tune in to George Clooney and numerous other celebrities and musicians for the “Hope for Haiti” Telethon this Friday, January 22nd, 7-9pm MST (Channel 9 in Colorado)
The telethon will air on eleven broadcast and cable networks, and will include performances by Justin Timberlake (Matt Morris, Jon Powers & Dave Preston have been invited by Justin to play with him & Charlie Sexton), Sting, Taylor Swift, Alicia Keyes, Christina Aguilera, Shakira, and Bruce Springsteen and others.
Celebrities that will be presenting and helping with the phone banks include: Ellen, Jennifer Aniston, Jake Gyllenhaal, Brad Pitt, Anna Kendrick, Sandra Bullock, Zac Efron, Bradley Cooper and many more.
Donations raised by the event will benefit Oxfam America, Partners in Health, Red Cross, Unicef and Wyclef Jean’s Yele Haiti Foundation — all of which are actively helping recovery efforts in Haiti.
Please tune in and donate, together we can help Haiti recover.
NOTE: Jon Powers is my son-in-law, Dave’s, brother. Talented family! You can see Jon playing drums behind Matt Morris on The Ellen Show here.
UPDATE 01.22.10 Matt Morris, Justin Timberlake, Charlie Sexton, Jon Powers & Dave Preston will be performing “Hallelujah” towards the end of the show. They may even close it. WATCH!
