The BIG 4-0 Birthday!!!!

My son turns 40 today. Needless to say, I'm astounded. On so many levels. I didn't know anything about actually raising a child, especially a boy child, but somehow he got to be this old.

I fully expect him to run wild now, mostly because of the many, MANY times I told him that when he was 40, he could do whatever he wanted to. For example (see photo above), he could say all the "bad words" he wanted to say when he was 40, but he was NOT saying them NOW. Ditto: cigarettes, whiskey, and wild, wild women. Likewise, late curfews.

So here I am. Wishing him a very Happy 40th Birthday -- and hoping my chickens don't come home to roost.

A Writer's Dream

I usually try to set attainable goals. It saves a lot a wear and tear on my already stressed psyche. (Let's just say it's not easy being on the receiving end of the Family Bat Phone.)

Recently, in keeping with my usual mild-mannered goal-setting, I wanted to go see the new Harry Potter movie. I like Harry Potter. I like Good vs. Evil, especially when Good wins. Besides that, I'd never seen Harry on the big screen, and I wanted to.

But did I make it to the movie? No. I did not. Not even close. And I thought somewhat drolly, "Cheryl, you need to stop it already with the impossible dreams."

But then I thought, why not have impossible dreams? There's even a song dedicated to the concept. If I can't pull off the little ones, what's the problem with not pulling off the big ones?

Hence the blueprint and the photograph above.

They're from a SOUTHERN LIVING magazine -- a very old issue of SOUTHERN LIVING magazine. This, for all intents and purposes, is my dream writer's cabin. I fell in love with it the first time I saw it, and I've saved the magazine ever since. The magazine has seen better days, so I thought I'd scan the photos that are essentially my heart's desire before they disintegrated. Then, I thought, I'd show them to you. (You can help me pine.)

So. Here we go.

The first thing that's so appealing to me about the cabin in the photo above is the tower. What a wonderful place to write. Next is the color. The green reminds me of the buildings in the North Carolina State Parks when I was a little girl -- Morrow Mountain State Park, specifically, which eventually became the partial setting for the historical, FORBIDDEN BRIDE. According to the blueprint, there's also a screened in porch. It doesn't get much better than that.

This is the interior of the tower (I see myself writing right here instead of eating, though eating is good):

This is the dining room, which is off the galley kitchen. You can just see the kitchen in the photo of the spiral stairs.

This is the spiral staircase which leads to the loft sleeping area, the lower tower room, and the stairs to the upper tower room, or as I think of it: Writer Heaven.

And this is the living room with a fireplace.

I'm telling you I LOVE this cabin. I feel the same way about it as I did about Roy Rogers somehow showing up and letting me ride Trigger when I was four. He had a daughter named "Cheryl," after all. If that could happen, anything was possible.

So there it is. My imaginary writer's cabin. Thanks for letting me share...

"Kitty" Update

I saw "Kitty" today. She hung out with Little Cinderella and me (Big Cinderella, that would be) for a couple of hours this afternoon. She was wearing a fuchsia and turquoise crushed velvet cape and a gold and opal tiara. She looked good, too.

(I have GOT to start putting the digital camera in my purse.)

Poor, poor "Kitty"

I know. This looks bad. "Kitty," as she is almost generically known, was well into her second round of Beloved Stuffed Animal-hood, courtesy of Grandchild #2. And, as good as the Ty company is at making stuffed critters, it would seem that at some point, one of them will literally have the stuffing hugged out of it, or in this case, the PVC pellets. It was an alarming time. "Kitty" was leaking and no one could find the leak. It didn't help that certain brothers in the household didn't want to find the leak. Much better to sling her around and have pellets flying all over the place.

Enter, Yours Truly. It's been long established that the dh can fix all things mechanical -- cars, bikes, trucks, skate boards, etc., etc. My job is Everything Else. I've sutured a lot of stuffed animals in my time, and I don't let the fact that I can't sew hold me back. I'm always hopeful that when it comes to grandchildren with injured comfort toys, it's the thought that counts.

So. I was hereby given the task of re-inflating "Kitty," who by this time was pretty flat. I thought I'd never find the hole -- Ty is really good at hiding their seams. Eventually, I did, which brought us to the next hurdle: Where To Find PVC Pellets?

Nowhere around here, I soon learned. And no, I couldn't just stuff her with something else. You can't play fast and loose with the details in a situation like this. The beloved injured critter has to be as close to the Way It Was as you can make it. (Those of you who are not yet grandmothers, please take note.)

There was only one thing to do. I had to sacrifice somebody else's PVC innards. Several somebody else's, as it turned out. But I was very gentle, and I re-sewed all the holes I made. The bottom line is that "Kitty" has been returned to her previous self -- except for the Sponge Bob Band-Aid on what must be her elbow. (Future grandmothers should take note of this, too: Grandchildren like for their wounded to have Band-Aids.)

"Kitty" is looking good now; the sacrificial "lambs," not so much. "You do know," the dh said, looking at their flat little bodies, "these are the ones that are probably going to be worth a fortune."