May I introduce my Sweet Wife and grandchildren.
Again, thank you so much for your friendship and support.
Stephen
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Welcome and Thanks
Over the last few days many nice people have clicked the 'follow' button. I've gone from six, I think, to twenty five in just a few days. Thank you all very much and welcome. I will do my best to make your visits a pleasant experience.
May I introduce my Sweet Wife and grandchildren.
My grandson, Sport Model in his grandmother's arms. He's not quite nine months old. This photo was taken at my son's home. Perhaps one day he'll stand still and I will post a picture of him and his sweet wife.
Little Bit and her Nana.
Again, thank you so much for your friendship and support.
Stephen
May I introduce my Sweet Wife and grandchildren.
Again, thank you so much for your friendship and support.
Stephen
It's The Little Things
"Papa."
"What, Sweetheart."
We're in a local eatery for a slice of pie.
"Do you remember when we went to the flea market?"
"Yes I do, Honey, why?" Silence. The waitress tops off my ice tea. A thunderstorm is hammering our world.
She takes another bite, then, "You 'member you told me nothing in life is free."
Uh-oh. She has those big brown eyes locked on my face. The same eyes that melt my heart anytime she glaces my way.
"I do remember, Little Bit." More silence as she works on the pie and takes an occasional sip of her root beer, her drink of choice.
The rain is heavy, it's warm in here.
"Papa."
"Yes, Honey."
"You 'member that nice old man that gave me those two little dolls?"
I know she has me.
"Yes, Papa remembers."
Silence. My coconut cream pie remains as is, half eaten.
"Papa?" I wait for a second then respond, "What is it, Honey."
"Papa, did that old man make you give him 'monies?"
I know where this is going. But it's fun as she blocks me into the corner.
"No, Little Bit, he didn't ask Papa to give him money."
Silence. The rain is steady pounding, the waitress moves between tables; a slow steady shuffle and you know she's weary and resolve to leave a nice tip.
Little Bit has her head down working over her slice of pie, then slowly lifts her sweet face.
Then, "Papa."
"Yes, Sweetheart."
"Then I guess some things in life are free, huh." Like that.
Women.
"What, Sweetheart."
We're in a local eatery for a slice of pie.
"Do you remember when we went to the flea market?"
"Yes I do, Honey, why?" Silence. The waitress tops off my ice tea. A thunderstorm is hammering our world.
She takes another bite, then, "You 'member you told me nothing in life is free."
Uh-oh. She has those big brown eyes locked on my face. The same eyes that melt my heart anytime she glaces my way.
"I do remember, Little Bit." More silence as she works on the pie and takes an occasional sip of her root beer, her drink of choice.
The rain is heavy, it's warm in here.
"Papa."
"Yes, Honey."
"You 'member that nice old man that gave me those two little dolls?"
I know she has me.
"Yes, Papa remembers."
Silence. My coconut cream pie remains as is, half eaten.
"Papa?" I wait for a second then respond, "What is it, Honey."
"Papa, did that old man make you give him 'monies?"
I know where this is going. But it's fun as she blocks me into the corner.
"No, Little Bit, he didn't ask Papa to give him money."
Silence. The rain is steady pounding, the waitress moves between tables; a slow steady shuffle and you know she's weary and resolve to leave a nice tip.
Little Bit has her head down working over her slice of pie, then slowly lifts her sweet face.
Then, "Papa."
"Yes, Sweetheart."
"Then I guess some things in life are free, huh." Like that.
Women.
