As I said on my Facebook, I am thankful today for ambulation. That's the ability to walk. Today is 70 degrees and sunny, so I "ambled with elation" up hill and down, admiring the variety of leaves on the ground.

Then it started.

One pun after another in my head that seemed to have no "stop" button in sight.

Acorny j'oak that no one would laugh at. (Maybe the dog wood.) After all, it was just one elmentary thought after another in the same vein. I should give as much thought to sprucing up the house.

However, I maple something funny out of the laugh drawer one of these days. For now, I pine away over how out of shape my limbs have become. I needle lot of exercise because I'm cedarously out of shape. Junk in my trunk from sitting around being sappy over yesteryear.

I'll make like a tree and leave now. I don't want to make you sycamore than you already are from having red thus fir. You can bark at me in the comment box if you want.

For the latest news...

I have a second blog also called "A Penchant for Pens." Confusing, I know. I don't even remember how I ended up with two by the same name. The URL for the newer one (which I update several times a weeks) is zoanna.blogspot.com.

One of these days I'll get around to moving all this old material over.

Or not. I'm too busy blogging. :)

The Row Ahead

Believe it or not, Joel did NOT draw this. I did.

Mugs Shots of Mommy

 
Joel took this shot as he sat across the table from me. I was peeking out from behind flowers in a vase. Then I decided to mess with effects for the fun of it.

Winter Hush

This picture may not open for you .It's giving me a hard time. Try seeing it here.

Winter Descends

A view of the trees between us and our neighbors to the west.

Joy Boxes

Top shot, L to R: mine, Mitzy's, Lauren's. Above Mitzy's is Stephanie's.

Below: the Joy Box that I made for my friend Bonnie.

To find out more, go here.

Remember you can "click on the pic" to enlarge it. (Would the same happen if I clicked on my bank account?)

Or is it Paul's Lambourghini?

Who drives this ? Father? Or his son, 42 years younger?

Never too young for a Lambourghini

Love this expression on Joel's face when he opened up his remote control car. Paul bought him a yellow Lambourghini.

A few days ago it was sitting on Paul's dresser. I smiled as I dusted it, and then a silly song popped into my head. "He drove an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny, yellow solid Lambourghini...."

Sunday Afternoon Football

Ben loves to have friends over after church sometimes on Sundays. I generally don't mind . The only time it poses a problem is when he has told them--but not me--they're invited. Today. After church. The last time he did this was for the Ravens playoff game. He leaned over while the offering plate was being passed and whispered, "By the way, Mom, a bunch of guys are coming over after church." He knows I won't get vocal in church. As soon as it was over I told him, "Stall them. You know what the house looked like when we left, don't you?" (It wasn't bad, but not my idea of "company-ready" either.)

"I know, Mom. They're just guys." "How many guys?" "I dunno. Maybe 6, 8, 10."
"What? How are we gonna feed them? It's not a good pay week (paid all the bills and we're eating soup today.) "Are they buying pizza or what?
"Yeh, yeh, it'll be fine."


When my nerves settled down, which happens a lot faster the more I do this thing called "spontaneous hosting," I realized this is good stuff. Good memories. This is one way Paul and the boys convinced me to get a big-screen TV. Play on my love for a crowd! (Paul and Ben built the entertainment center. It protruded into the narrow room before; now it sits back into the laundry area behind that wall. )

The guys make themselves comfortable. They don't wait to be offered drinks (the way girls do) but simply ask, "Mrs. Z, where's the ice?" And I point to the freezer with a knife that has scraps of tomato hanging off it.

"Would you like some salad, Nathan?"
"Ah, no thanks."
"Luke?"
"No, I'm good, thanks."
"Chris? Salad."
"Nope, no thank you."
"Son?"
"Nah, we're guys."