Top Ramen That’s Me – 2

                                               

I crunch them in

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  My daddy and my mommy, Manny and Tanya, got prepared.

All my soon to be Aunts were there.

Aunt Kim, Tanya & Manny & Aunt Susie.

Mom & Dad & Gramma Nell & G-Aunt Trudy’s quilt. Gramma Nell was there in spirit; she designed my blankie.

Mom & Dad got a whiff of what to expect from me.

Grandma, Aunts, & one of my new cousins

And just for fun my Great-Aunt Trudy put an old picture of my Grandma Peggy, Aunt Susie and Aunt Kim when they were young just so I could see what they looked like when they were kids way before me.

I am “Wyatt Liam” born December 06, 2007 at 9:08pm, weighing in at 7 pounds 6 ounces and 19.5 inches in length.  My mommy, Tanya, and  my daddy, William (Manny) are happy to announce my arrival in Vail, Colorado.  As a result of my coming,

 wyatt Liam Thompson

But I was always there I just was hidden inside my mommy’s tummy.

Grama’s Birthday

By Trudy A. Martinez

Today is not my birthday: that day passed weeks ago but here stood Elijah and Charity, wishing me happy birthday, handing me a present, asking me to open it, gleaming with joy from anticipation.

The package handed me was a work of art:  personality spilled from its hand painted design; each stroke told a story, filling my heart with joy; each color depicted a mood, an emotion sprang from it, leaping at my heartstrings.

There is a cake waiting to be eaten so I had better get along with my story.

“I painted this.”  Elijah exclaimed, smiling as he pointed to his design.  “Charity painted this,” he continued as his words sprang to life in the ears of his little sister standing next to him, waiting her turn to speak.

“Open it Grama”, her words rang out, sprinkling the air with the soft tones of her voice.

“Do you know what it is?”  Elijah queried.

“No,” I replied, “Can you tell me?”

“Can’t tell Grama, Elijah!”  Charity’s reprimanding voice rang out.

“No-O-O-O-O-O.”  Elijah answered, dragging out the one syllable word, lingering it in the air momentarily before he added, “You have to open it, Grama”.

My fingers had already begun to carefully undue the paper from one of the packages.  The paper was unique as it was homemade; the designs were drawings made by Elijah and Charity.  The pictures would make a perfect addition to my refrigerator door that was adorned with such treasures.

My two-prized possession hang from a looped chain that is attached to a magnet on that door:  pacifiers, one blue one and one pink one.  The blue one was given to me by Elijah a few years back.  The pink one was reluctantly given up on Charity’s second birthday.  She was not forced to give it up; she did it willingly but it was difficult decision for her to make.  I remember.  She stood at a distance from me, covering her eyes.  She knew it was her birthday; she knew she was going to give up her infancy with the passing of her prized possession to my refrigerator door and thereafter, ‘patsy’ was to become my prized possession.  My thoughts were suddenly brought back to the present with the sounds of voices:

“Come on, Grama, hurry up–Open it”, Elijah said.

“Open it,” repeated Charity.

“Here,” Elijah added, reaching for the other end of the package, ripping the paper quickly off.  Charity in the meantime, picked up the other package and quickly opened it for me.

“Here, Grama, here’s your present.”

Thanks honey that is a pretty cup.  Why it even has my name on it:  Grama.  It’s a Grama cup.  Elijah just finishing the unwrapping of the other present, proudly held it up for me to admire.

“Do you know what it is, Grama?”

I looked it over.  It looked like a milk carton, but windows had been cut out of each side.  There were also two small holes in each side.  In addition, it had been painted all over with paint, different colors of paint.  There was a stick that was separate but that went with it.  On the top of the structure, a rope like twine was attached to it on both sides.  “Hm mm,” I thought,” I wonder what this beautiful creation is?”  Elijah and Charity eagerly waited for a reply.  I was taking too long to guess and they were extremely anxious to tell me.

“It’s a bird feeder, Grama!”  Charity exclaimed.

“You put seed in here,” Elijah explained“, and then you put the stick through here,” he continued, “And the birds come and eat the seed”.

“They come and eat the seed.”  Charity echoed, smiling.

“It is beautiful”, I said, “I know just the place to hang it.”  We went to the patio, hung the bird feeder, and then, came back inside to watch and wait, but no birds came.

“They’ll come”, Elijah and Charity assured me.  Nevertheless, the birds did not come and Elijah and Charity went home.

A few days later, Kit, my cat, started jumping, running, and acting real crazy.  She would sit at the patio door, swinging her tail back and forth, faster and faster her tail went back and forth.  She was trying to get my attention so I would let her outside.  I opened the blinds and saw that there was a bunch of little visitors in my backyard:  birds were perched on the bird feeder on the little stick that stuck out from the side.  Birds were walking on the ground, picking up the seed that their friends up above were dropping on the ground from the pretty bird feeder that Elijah and Charity made for me.

I immediately called Elijah and Charity on the telephone to tell them about the little visitors.  They were not home.  I left a message.  Here is what I said:

“That beautiful bird feeder you gave me for my birthday has brought joy.  I have lots of birds in my backyard where before there was none.  The birds have been eating the seed and I keep filling it up with more seed because they are very, very, hungry.  Have to go now–just wanted you to know–love you.

Oh yeah, Kit likes it too.  She jumps, runs, and acts real crazy.  She wants to go outside with the birds.  She wants to catch them, but they fly away when they see she is coming out.  Love you–Bye.”

Love Grama Trudy

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Hello World

 Hello World,

Today I hit the road, visiting one of those grandchildren of mine.  Her nickname is War Bug!    A War Bug is the good bug that distracts all the bad bugs away.  Well my War Bug is a joy; she loves to make little lady bug rocks.   Anyway,  She called me yesterday to give me some good news.  She said, “Grama, guess what?” 

 I stopped being a good guesser years ago.  I like it better if they just come out and tell me what.  But I played the game.  “What, Honey?”  I asked in reply.

“We won!” She said excitedly.  “We won!”

“What did you win?” I asked eagerly. 

“The regional championship!” She chirped out, “Our cheerleading squad did!  We were great Grama. 

 

 The crowd loved us.”  

The year before the squad did great too and the crowd loved them, but their team was disqualified because their coach clapped her hands and smiled (just like everyone else in the crowd). 

However, the judges declared her hand movements and facial gestures (a smile) were her attempts to coach the girls from the side-line which of course is against the rules.  An attempt was made to appeal the judge’s decision to no avail.  I was a member of the crowd last year when War-Bug came away disappointed and in tears after so much time and effort had gone to not. 

Their squad was clearly the best there.  I am not saying that just because I am her Grama either.  They practiced hard — about 6 or more hours per week.  I let her know that it is all about sportsmanship.  And told her to keep her chin up because next year they would for sure win.  Both the coach and girls learned a lot about competition and the dos and don’ts.   

Sure enough they won this year.   They did!  Last year their coach was female.  This year their coach is male.  He has three daughters and all three are on teams that he coaches.  Their team comes from the Kern ValleyThis years’ competition was held at Big Bear.  “Did your mom take the video camera?  Did she get some pictures?”  

They didn’t take the video camera, but they did get some pictures from the digital camera. 

I hope to post one here for you later.  If not, at least put one in the photo album on my site.  I hope you will enjoy it as much as I do once it is posted.

This Journal entry is up-dated today with the pictures I promised to post here.   I was told by the photographer of these pictures it was difficult to get

pictures because the girls were always moving.

I hope you enjoyed seeing some Kern Valley wining teams.

No Where to Run

By Trudy A. Martinez

Reassuringly, little voices whispered dramatically,  “It’s okay, Kit, we’re not going to hurt you.”

Kit was asleep when the two surrounded her with the intent of making friends.  Normally, she ran at the sight of them.  Now she was unknowingly cornered.

When the words, “It’s Okay — we’re not going to hurt you.” were repeated in unison.  Kit’s eyes opened.  Obviously, she was not sure what to make of them:  Her ears moved from their normal stance, when their hands reached out for her, to a stressed slicked back position.

They petted her, gently.  Kit’s ears remained down.  “It’s okay,”  they reassured her.  Their words did nothing to change her countenance.  She was stiff and looking for a way to run.

Perhaps she recalled the day before, being cornered and her tail pulled.  The perpetrator of that incident was now gently running her hand from the top of Kit’s head slowly over her thick winter fur to the tip of her tail without tugging.  The question now was:  Was Kit going to relax and take advantage of this freely given affection?

The children continued to assure her that they meant well with each movement of their hands over her body.  It was a slow process, a persuasive process, a winning process.  Kit’s ears relaxed, relinquishing their stress.

Smiling the children exclaimed, “She likes me!  She’s purring,” They added with excitement.  “She’s pur-r-ring.”

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  • Display picture for litlev6  litlev6Hello and thanks for stopping by.. 🙂  I enjoyed your blog and your wit.  I will be back..have a wonderful week Peace