My Heroes

This was pure Marshall, he just knew how to pose. When he first put on his suit, he stood in front of the mirror admiring his cape and his muscles. 

It took some doing, but I stuffed Jess into this costume. The boy is a tank!

My Favorite Way to Pass the Time

Jess Valentine...6 months old.

Marshall Dempsey...2-1/2 years old.

Desert Highway

     We often travel to Phoenix "the back way."  We love this less-used highway because the desert scenery never disappoints. In the spring there is a profusion of wildflowers along with the many textures of cacti and desert trees. Here we stopped to give the boys a break from the three hour drive home from Grandma & Grandpa's house. 

Kurt holds a freshly diapered Jess.

Marshall tries not to look like coyote bait... 

and I enjoy another beautiful drink of the high desert. 

Mangos and Memories

     The mangos have arrived!  A few days ago, Grandma Lovett called to ask if I wanted any mangos from her tree in southern Florida. I didn't hesitate because, well, I am not stupid.

 

     Grandma Naomi Lovett is one of my most favorite people on this planet.  She is a true southern Floridian. This is very different than being a southerner in general. The way a southern woman is typically portrayed  is sugary-sweet, exuding an aura of helplessness and insincerity. This could not be further from the truth. I wish I were talented enough to paint a word picture of her. You would love her as I do.

     I don't often get to see my family in Florida, which is very sad. Although my brother and I didn't live near them after mom and dad split when we were very young, we both have a tremendous amount of "Lovett" in us. I am not talking about looks, we don't look like them at all. Instead, somehow, in our DNA, we were slipped the same sense of humor and splash of "quirky" that you just don't get unless you've spent a lot of time marinating in the sweet, balmy humidity of Homestead, Florida. 

     "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride," was a favorite thing for mom to say when I was -no doubt- whining about something as a child. But if wishes were horses, I would ride to see Grandma Lovett. We would sit on the front porch swing and talk about nothing. I would swat mosquitoes and she would probably be grinning so I couldn't see her because mosquitoes know better than to bite her. I'd walk through the house and breathe in as much as I could. There is no better smell than the smell of her house. It must be from the aroma of years of the world's best cooking seeping into the knotty pine walls and wood floors. 

     This year I will put up some of her incredible creamed corn recipe. I don't remember a meal at her house without this corn. It is a simple recipe: Fresh Corn cut off the cob, salt, pepper, butter and bacon drippings. Can't go wrong with that!