Yesterday evening my son called me up while The Professor and I were babysitting Omaha (the new, more-keyboarding friendly name for NDM).  Since it was my birthday, I was excited that Tremor3258 telephoned.

However, it was not all that I had imagined.  This was how the conversation started:

“Hi, Mom!  Do you think either Dad or you could help me pick up my lawnmower tomorrow?” Tremor3258 asked.

I suggested he ask his father and passed the phone to The Professor.

The Professor remarked, “Hi!  Did you forget to wish your mother “Happy Birthday!”?

Silence.  Then Tremor3258 said, “Well, up to now I have.”

Tremor3258 soon corrected the situation.

Since the retaining wall was so dastardly expensive, The Professor and I are trying to be a little more restrained with gift giving.  He gave me a frying pan (which replaced the ruined one) and a double boiler (which I had mentioned would make some recipes easier).  The new pans are really nice.

IMO, SJM, and Omaha gave me a combined Mother’s Day-birthday present for the past two years: an ironing board board (sic).  Quilters will understand how excited I am to have a 5 foot by 2 foot piece of plywood to set on top of my ironing board.  IMO put quarter round molding on the underside to straddle the ironing board so the board wouldn’t shift.  He also sanded the board perfectly smooth and rounded the corners.  I used duct tape to attach a layer of batting covered by a layer of muslin to the board.  It is just what I have been wanting for a long time.

Marisol sent me a very fake dollar bill and told me to spend it on whatever I wanted. 

Tonight The Professor and I are attending a T-Bones game to celebrate my birthday belatedly.  However, babysitting our grandson on my birthday was a great way to celebrate, too.

No, I have not attended nor graduated from any seminary during my absence from Xanga.

Our minister will be on sabbatical for three months this fall.  He runs a Preaching Practicum class each year, but this year he deliberately admitted eight (a big number for our church) students.  That is eight Sundays the church doesn’t have to worry about a program.

Why does someone who hates public speaking as much as I do sign up for this class?  Why does someone who can’t write a speech participate?  I’m surprised at myself but apparently I have something to say.  My topic is immigration.  The minister held a practice last Saturday, and it was gratifying that my sermon was well received. (The standard was much higher in high school speech class, and the minister is being very positive to encourage us.)

So, now I just have to practice my speech until July 19th when I am speaking at both services.  That should be rather interesting since I’ll have to rearrange the chairs to provide myself with a scent-free haven from which to share my wondrous thoughts.

The Professor took the class, too, and will give his sermon July 26th.  However, he speaks in front of people for a living, so he is not nearly as nervous as I am.

In a little while, The Professor and I are going to a nursery to buy plants.  Two days ago our backyard was finally sodded, and no longer looks so much like a disaster area.  A big part of the gardens was destroyed by the construction of the new retaining wall, so The Professor is ecstatic that he finally has some scope for planting here!