Like many people, I have the best g'kids in the world. They think like no other kid... they act like no other kid and they are definately the brightest, most clever, best looking got a comet by it's tail kids.  Just like yours, I bet.

Nah, mine are special.

I've written about Mo before; from Gnomes to Roadkill, the kid's a hoot. This weekend he took advantage of the fact that his mum, my dear (really) DIL ambushed me with the dog jacket project. Once I finally finished I popped off to get a cuppa my favorite beverage of choice, well earned too. As I re-entered my dining room, sometimes sewing room, I caught Mo pulling some wadded up black whatsit from his pack and sidle up to my machine. 

Me:Whatcha doing?

Mo:Nuffin.... much...

Me:Show me your "nuffin" kiddo.

Seems the kid has taken a page out of his mother's play book.  His "nuffin much", was his favorite pair of sweatpants, now too short to wear outside but "really suited to nightwear" (Mo's words not mine. Where does he hear this stuff?).

Me:What's the problem, Mo?

Mo:G'ma... they're all blown out in the back and mom won't let me wear them 'cause my shorts show and sometimes she doesn't want my shorts showing. (Eight year old boy... any mom knows why his mom prefers the backside of his undershorts covered.)

Me:And?

Mo:I'm gonna fix um good.

Me:Really?

Mo:Yeah, I'm a man and that's a machine, how hard can it be?

Brave boy, thinking g'ma is going to let him touch her machine.

However....

Together we did the job. He ran the pedal and I handled the cloth.

Afterwards I asked him how he liked the sewing. He laughed...

Mo:Sewin's for g'mas;

if you get yourself a bigger motor that machine could go rrrrreally fast.

I'd push your pedal all day for you, then.

Scamp......

I'm pretty much a Jack (or Jill) of all trades. It comes from being the eldest daughter of a man who desperately wanted sons.... Give me SONS. But, no, I have five more sisters and one intensely spoiled charmer of a brother. Bless him; raised by the older three and waited on, hand and foot by the younger three. Lucky guy all around.

This weekend I got to exercise my diverse talents. The domestic me made homemade apple pie, chocolate mayonnaise cake, and killer banana muffins. The handy(wo)man winterized the pop-up camper, replaced a washer, and mended the back fence. The economic genius, balanced the checkbook and paid bills and since she managed to stay in the "black", invested the extra in stocking the pantry for the up and coming winter season.

So here I sat resting on my laurels when DIL and family fairly explode into my domain accompanied by their two greyhounds. This "Barbie House" quickly became oxygen depleted... their dogs, my dog, their kids, my hubby, her hubby. I mean who brings their dogs with them when they visit? These are not pocket pets. The g'kids expained that Dyson and Chance wanted to see g'ma, too. Yeah... Right.....

Next moment the g'kids are burying me in fabric, what? I knew I should have hidden the sewing machine earlier this week. Now, DIL has many endearing qualities... but a seamstress, she is not. She has been known to pass me needle, thread, shirt and button during church service. I assumed that she was dumping uhhh bringing me this year's Halloween Costume Project to me. Alas, no. Y'all know what they say about assuming. It's only October 9th; she won't show up with that stuff for another two weeks. This jumble was for.. the dogs. Who knew that poodles, peeks, chihuahuas and greyhounds all need winter jackets; exclusive, one of a kind, high class, and individually tailored jackets.

I'm tempted....

sooooooo tempted...................

So it's been a month since the hurricane came through and cleared out the back garden big time. The straight line micro bursts stripped all the leaves from my roses... poor naked, green, thorny canes. Yet, those roses of mine are the harbingers of optimism. How so?  Those little darlings all have late season, beautiful ruby roses on them. Really strange seeing those canes waving, straight green and leafless with vibrant red jewels bobbing in the bright October sun. At least there is something back there now. Almost makes up for the wide expanse of lonely unadorned patio deck, no gazebo, no furniture, bye bye pool,  and so long all my container pots with their veggies. 

Yet...

Each morning as I gaze out my window to the row of rose topped green sticks, the dew sparkling on the petals, I have to smile. Isn't life just like that, the frosting on a cupcake, the froth on my coffee, roses in my garden. 

This past month has been busy. Weekends spent volunteering to help friends, neighbors and complete strangers struggle to recover from the destruction of flooding (and re-flooding), hurricanes and tornadoes. Ninety percent of the homes in some of our communities have been completely destroyed or condemned. We have thousands of displaced persons and winter is knocking on the door... This is the northeast and we have had snow in October. Where are these people going to go?  The counties hit are some of the most economically depressed areas in our state. Unemployment is still 10% and that's the new improved numbers... it was 14%.

Maybe, just maybe, they could send the trailers they are NOT using in New Orleans up north for these homeless persons. Maybe? Probably, not. After all, they told us last week that the money is gone. Gone? So sorry, so sad... next time have your disaster at the beginning of the fiscal year when there is still funds in the FEMA account.

But then...

I consider my roses; my poor naked incredibly beautiful rare October roses. They don't care that the frosts have begun. They simply nod in the wind and shine with the dew. And I smile. And I know that this too shall pass. It won't be easy, and it won't be soon. But it will pass. And October roses on naked canes remind me that life is precious and fragile and fleeting.