Pretty Too, Pretty, Ella, Molly – Mother’s Day Brunch
Number One Son and Pretty Too treated Pretty and me for a Mother’s Day brunch at our favorite restaurant Luzianna Purchase this past weekend. When we arrived approximately on time (for us), everyone was seated at the lovely table including two and a half year old Ella who sat at the far end of the table looking very grown up in a regular chair with no booster seat – her head barely visible above the table’s edge. She greeted us with “Daddy is going to order for me. I wouldn’t mind if you brought me Cheetos.” Now why on earth would that child think Pretty and I would have brought Cheetos? Hm.
Brunch was delicious even without Cheetos – luckily Ella discovered New Orleans style beignets were equally yummy.
The adults raved over chocolate truffles, blackened shrimp and grits, Eggs Benedict, French toast and “Mamosas.”
Number One Son and Molly say Brunch a huge success
As we said our farewells in the parking lot with hugs and Happy Mother’s Day wishes, Ella looked down at me from her father’s arms, wagged her finger at me and said out of the blue but clearly from a place of parental admonitions when being sent to her room for an afternoon nap, “Don’t play in your bed, and don’t play with your toys.” I assured her I would do neither.
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Thanks for sharing this Mother’s Day adventure with us. Pretty and I appreciate every day with our family but never forget the mothers and children of Ukraine who struggle for survival in unspeakable circumstances, mothers everywhere who struggle with overwhelming grief and loss, daughters who are motherless. May God the Mother grant you comfort and amazing grace.
The month of March may be over, but the Madness of NCAA basketball has one last hurrah this weekend. The Final Four for the women will be played in the frozen tundra that is more generally known as Minneapolis, Minnesota under the Friday night lights of Target Center in the heart of the downtown district on April Fool’s Day, 2022.
The Gamecock women have been ranked #1 in the nation during the 2021-2022 season with a record of 33 wins and 2 losses. They will play the Louisville Cardinals (29-4) in the semi-final.
Pretty and I love women’s basketball – the game is part of our inherited DNA in our respective families that became a jointly shared passion in the Dawn Staley era at our alma mater. Coach Staley has ignited not only the University of South Carolina fan base but also the love of the sport across the nation with attendance increases for women’s basketball programs everywhere. Thank you, Coach. Onward.
Ella and me going into Greensboro,
North Carolina Regionalthis past weekend
(first weekend overnite for Pretty and me with our granddaughter)
Ella’s favorite discovery at the game was Lay’s Potato Chips
(she is her Nana’s granddaughter for sure –
Pretty never met a potato chip she didn’t love)
Ella’s mother Pretty Too a/k/a Caroline told Pretty yesterday that when she rocked Ella to sleep the night before, Ella whispered defense, defense. Caroline was so startled she asked Ella what she was saying, and Ella shouted DEFENSE. That’s our girl. She’s going to be a true Gamecock.
Special shoutouts to our basketball buddies who have shared another special season with the Gamecock women, Pretty and me: Garner, JD, Brian, Joan, Robert, Susan, Chris, Pat, Number One Son Drew, 2.5 year old Ella, the Upstate Double Ds Darlene and Dawne…Brenda, Tony, Baby Dawn and her mothers in front of us, Jennifer R and Lisa – you all cheered throughout the journey. It’s been a great ride.
I would be in big trouble if I failed to mention the men’s basketball teams also have their own Final Four this weekend, and my most faithful reader Dick Hubbard’s North Carolina Tar Heels will play archrival Duke tomorrow night in their semi-final in New Orleans. This is the first year in our 40-year friendship both Dick and I have had teams we passionately pull for in the Final Four. When he called me this morning to remind me, I said I hoped this didn’t mean one of us might be checking the score from St. Peter’s gate.
Whether you follow the Final Four with your personal bracket or don’t follow basketball at all, enjoy the first weekend in April and please stay tuned.
Ella holds Mollywhile Pretty and I swoon over them
Molly Iris James was born Wednesday, January 26th., at 1:42 p.m. She weighed 7 lbs. 4 oz. and is 20.4 inches long. Ella loves her “Lolly.” Pretty and I love them both.
Before Ella was born 2 years ago, my doctor told me having a grandchild would add 10 years to my life so last week when I was in his office I asked him what would 2 granddaughters do? He looked at me and asked how old are you now? When I said 75, he said without blinking, “15.” I’m good with that.
Whether 10 or 15 years, 10 or 15 months – I’m thankful for experiencing the joy of our family with Pretty. Unbelievable joy, indescribable happiness we can share together. It’s been good for the soul – a gift from the Great Spirit.
Today while Molly napped, Ella pretended to be me. Hilarious.
What did you do today, Naynay?
I watched tennis on tv
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Stay safe, stay sane, please get vaccinated and boosted, and stay tuned.
When my cousin Martin saw Spike for the first time he said, “Sheila, that ain’t nothing but a cur dog. Plain as day.”
That was in the spring of 2012, the year my two mothers died within two weeks of each other. I was a motherless child by any definition at the end of April, the month Spike appeared on Worsham Street in Texas as a motherless cur dog which according to the Merriam-Webster dictionary definition, and my cousin Martin, meant he was a mongrel or inferior dog – surly or cowardly.
When that cur dog showed up on Worsham Street in front of our house, Pretty and I had four other dogs: Annie, Red, Chelsea and Ollie. I tried to convince my neighbors across the street to keep him, but both of them had cats as well as dogs plus jobs that required their daily presence. I was a stay at home writer. My neighbor Lisa and I tried to find his owner for several days but finally realized someone had dumped him in our neighborhood so he belonged to Worsham Street. I called Pretty to talk to her about him – she was living most of the time in South Carolina while I had been in Texas to take care of my mother – and since we split the four dogs into two separate households – what was one more?
At first Spike was skittish around Red, Annie and me. He preferred to stay in the yard, but one night the rains came; I saw him sitting on the back porch looking at Red and me on the bed through the sliding glass door which I got up to open for him. He came inside that rainy night – never to be an outside dog again.
Spike sound asleep with his buddy Redon our sofa in Texas
(spring, 2012)
Red was quick to besurly – Spike not somuch
Spike seemed to understand that he was the low dog in the pack. Red was the alpha male because that’s how terriers roll. Smallest in size – but Red was the recognized “star.” Annie was a big dog like Spike but much older. She allowed Red to lead as long as she approved of his leadership, but don’t ever cross her. Spike learned to avoid her, but he loved Red. Red adored Annie. Typical love triangle similar to humans. Am I right?
The math Pretty and I had originally calculated worked well when we were in different homes but changed dramatically when we were together in South Carolina. Then we knew we had five dogs. Looking back to those years I’m not sure how we managed but we loved them all.
Spike, Redand black lab Chelsea in back yard on Canterbury Road
Spike fell in love with Chelsea on his first trip to South Carolina in 2012; it was a feeling that stayed with him as long as she lived – a feeling that remains with him six years after she died in March, 2016. To this day he whines in a high pitched voice when he sees a big black dog walking by on our street from his perch on the couch in our living room.
Spike at homeon our patioin July, 2012
Spike and Chelsea on my grandparents’ bedin September, 2014
my grandparents would be horrified if they knew
One by one Spike’s pack succumbed to illness and old age, and he became the sole survivor in the spring of 2016. Pretty and I promised each other we would shower him with affection, treats, walks, to give him the attention he hadn’t experienced as the interloper of the original four. We tried for months to lavish him with our love – perhaps partially to assuage our own grief. What happened surprised both of us. Spike’s grieving was as real as ours, and he didn’t like being an “only” dog. He missed his pack.
Enter Charly in the summer of 2016. Charly was twice rescued: once by Pawmetto Lifeline and then by Pretty, Spike and me.
Spike and Charly in ourliving room – 2019
when you can’t be withthe one you love,honey, love the one you’re with
Now we have another little old man about the same size as Red, but that’s a story for another night. He and Spike aren’t buddies, though – neither is Carport Kitty who definitely dislikes our three dogs. That’s okay. Charly runs interference between Spike and Carl who has learned the importance of pretending CK doesn’t exist. Spike has a pack again. Pretty and I love them all.
Spike on his walk –January 11, 2022
By the way, cur dogs are really a wonderful breed of “hard-working treeing hounds” with traits that include being devoted to their people, protective of their environment and fabulous additions to families.
So to my cousin Martin I say thank goodness Spike ain’t nothing but a cur dog. Pretty and I wouldn’t have him be anything else.
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Stay safer, stay saner, please won’t you get vaccinated and boosted, and stay tuned.
Once upon a time long ago and far away – but not too far away – I was in hot pursuit of Pretty who was clearly out of my lesbian league. In an attempt to impress her with my heat by being ultra cool, I recited love poems to her including one of Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s most famous Sonnets from the Portuguese. You know the one. How do I love thee, let me count the ways.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
Who could resist such a passionate declaration of undying love, I thought, and who wouldn’t be impressed by someone who quoted poetry with no prompts.
I was stunned the night I professed Browning’s promises to Pretty who didn’t miss a beat before responding with Edgar Allan Poe’s Annabel Lee
It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee—
And, then, of course Pretty went on for the entire six stanzas, three with six lines, one with seven lines and two with eight. My sonnet looked weak by comparison. Sigh. Pretty was definitely out of my league.
She still is, but miraculously twenty years later How Do I Love Thee was enough.
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Stay safe, stay sane, get vaccinated and please stay tuned.
I'll Call It Like I See It 
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