I did a little strawberry jam project last month as a fund-raiser for an inner-city youth program I greatly admire, The Hope Center for Kids. I grew enough strawberries to cook and can 80 jars of jam. Then people who “ordered” some would give a donation to The Hope. Our daughter Maddy or I delivered the jars all over town. A few people live in different states so we shipped jam to them. It worked great and raised over $1,000.

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El Magnifico has a good golf buddy who is sweet, funny . . . and uber-competitive. The other day, he didn’t play so well. That night, he texted El Mag with a unique excuse:

He had come home from golf, went to take a shower, and realized that he had had his underwear on backwards the whole time!

I laughed, but then realized that is exactly how the last several months have felt.

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We were going to babysit our “grands” for the weekend. El Magnifico found several old kites and was excited to introduce them to that great childhood experience. The kites hadn’t seen the light of day for probably 25 years.

I was amused as they took over the living room, then his office, as he fussed with them in preparation. He made a special trip to the sporting goods store. He tweaked the set-ups for hours on end,

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Here’s a great story for the Fourth of July, particularly this one!

Several years ago, I ran a book drive to give away gently-used books from suburban families to inner-city kids in an after-school program. Many of them had zero books in their homes. I also wanted to build up the library of the after-school, so I set aside books of special interest to multicultural readers for that purpose.

One of them was about Crispus Attucks.

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I’m distraught over the terrible and despicable verbal and visual beating the New York City police force took today, from the increasingly violent, threatening and chaotic mob. Last year, they threw water and bottles at the policeand taunted them. But now there’s a scary, mean, depraved tone to their “protests.”

Please view this as a sober reality-check. I apologize for the curse words and lewd visuals that are so offensive, but important for citizens to observe:

https://www.foxnews.com/us/nyc-occupy-city-hall-protesters-seen-taunting-nypd-black-judas

Now compare this treatment to the demonstrations of love,

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Still smiling over a wisecrack from one of our pickleball gang this morning.

When any of the eight women muffs a shot, she often emits a groan of pain and frustration. It gets downright funny:

“UNKKK!”

“ARRGGHHH!”

“EEYIIIII!”

“OOOEY!!!”

I said I wanted to have an audio made to commemorate all these funny sound effects.

That’s when our pickleballer put it into proper context:

“Sounds like when I was in labor!”

 

Like as a woman with child,

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We made and ate watermelon popsicles.

We took a family walk and fed a carrot to a palomino.

We flew a kite and played on a great new playground.

We had a blueberry pancake feed.

We watched “Veggie Tales” for the first time.

We got to swim in the darling neighbor lady’s pool.

We picked black raspberries and ate them, warm from the sun.

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Just in case you don’t think God cares about the things going on in our world, our country, and our minuscule individual lives right now. . . .

Just in case you don’t think God knows each of us personally, intimately, thoroughly, and better than we know ourselves. . . .

Just in case you think there is no God, and people like me, who proclaim that He is alive and active and still amazing,

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We went to our daughter and son-in-law’s house this morning to pick up the two grandkids. They are coming over for a “sleepover weekend” with us, to give the tired young parents a much-deserved short trip away.

Between all the packing, lawn mowing, dog whispering, etc., needed to rush out of town, the breakfast dishes were still on the counter. As any grandma would do, I started washing them.

The 4-year-old saw me.

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Because El Magnifico and I love the game of golf, and because our delightful neighbors have a young teen daughter who wants to make the local high school golf team, we had a little bit of a “golf camp” these past two weeks.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday her ditsy old retired neighbors would pick her up and go to a local golf course to practice putting, chipping, sand shots and full swings on the driving range.

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