Saturday, May 10, 2008

This week, Mother's day, and stuff...

Took the Sangria to Kickball Wednesday night. It was well received. For luck, our kickers were given the sacred fruit from the mix. :-) It was a moral victory as we held the best and highest scoring team to just 6 runs.

Thursday was the World Dinner Tour with Meetin. We went to a Thai restaurant in Norfolk. My son likes some asian foods, but isn't crazy about them. I wasn't sure how he was going to do with this. As it was, he did fine. Chicken Pad Thai for him, and Erawan Pad Thai for me. We both had Thai tea, and we had fried banana's and ice cream for dessert. It was a fun night with friends and a bit of a culinary adventure for him.

Friday I took my son to his mom's parents for the weekend and I helped host a happy hour with meetin afterwards. That was a lot of fun, a great time with friends, and a relaxing way to wind down the week. It's been a good week at work since we got a new engineer to help me out, and there were a number of people gone this week.

Saturday is winefest in Norfolk. It's gonna be a great time. I have a long time friend coming into town this weekend so I'll be having dinner with his family Saturday night.

Sunday is Mother's day. There are a lot of extraordinary Mom's out there and I hope it is a special day for all of you. My mom died from cancer in February 2001. I'll post the following poem every year for Mother's Day. It's written by a person whose comic strip I read everyday. To me it describes how our relationships with our moms may not always be perfect, and we may not always know quite how to express our feelings, but time is always always too short.

by J.D. Frazer

Motherhood, O Gordian Rite,
Chafed with paints of life,
A canvas thick with lighter oils,
Yet stained by Quiet Strife.

Ideal heights, and high ideals,
Make us aim for steeples.
I try, you try, to clutch our bond,
Yet prove we’re different people.

Words, O Words, what they can say,
Real things not just tokens!
Yet sometimes thought departs my mind,
And wrong words become spoken.

A Turn of phrase I cannot quoth,
Nor proffer due salute,
So gifts I give to speak for me,
A poet fallen mute.

Due words I mightn’t ever say,
And you mightn’t always see,
Yet when time arrives to take your hand,
I’ll say time stole you from me.

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