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When my family says grace, we go around the table and say something we’re grateful for, followed by the traditional Catholic, “Bless us, O Lord…” If it’s a birthday meal, or some other similar celebration, we go around the table and say something we appreciate about the person being celebrated.  On Sunday, when we were going around the table before our Mother’s Day lunch, Boy-O told the most awesome story.  It seems that, from a combination of driving the Jesus Van (my family’s van has Jesus Is Lord written ambulance-style across the front, and To Jesus Through Mary with appropriate Bible verses on the back), being sometimes seen coming out of the 7:30 am Mass at the church across the street from his high school, and because he is a generally nice guy, Boy-O has acquired quite a reputation for sanctity at school, especially with his fellow football players.  However, as holy as they think Boy-O is, this is nothing to how holy they think his mother is (very Catholic of them, I think).  In fact, she has become their paragon of holiness, so much so that they have adjusted the phrase WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) to WWDD (What Would Detsy Do? – Detsy = my mom’s nickname).  Boy-O says that when one of the boys would use a bad word, one of the other guys would pounce on him with a rousing, “WWDD!” and the first boy would apologize.  (The Duchess: “Does the whole team do that?” Boy-O: “Well, at least the offensive line.”)  It’s possibly the best Mother’s Day story I’ve ever heard.

All in all, it was a nice Mother’s Day.  My parents’ birthdays are in late May and mid-June, so to make things easier on everyone, we combine the celebrations of Mother’s and Father’s Days with their birthdays.  This year Mom wanted someone else to host, so Mariah and The Duchess opened up their really rather adorable apartment (someday my apartment will be that cute – I swear it!).  I made my Lemon Sage Chicken (I wish I’d taken a picture – they were so gorgeously brown), and then carefully transported it the few yards from my backdoor to Mariah’s.  Sae made a very nice wilted spinach salad, Indy made Mom’s favorite whipped potatoes (none of that fancy-shmancy garlic for her!  Butter, milk, salt and only a little pepper please!), The Duchess made fruit salad, and Rosie provided carrot cake with whipped cream for dessert.  My present this year was the progress I’ve made on Mom’s Queen Anne’s Lace shawl.  After the very frustrating beginning I ripped it all out, and posted a plea for help on the pattern designer’s yahoo group.  The nice people there were enormously helpful, the second start was infinitely easier, and now I’m chugging right along.  I’m now almost finished with the first chart, up to row 60ish with roughly 250 stitches on the needles.

Honestly, knitting and roasting chickens were about the only actually useful things I did all weekend.  Well, I made it to the Farmers’ Market and grocery shopping too, but I don’t know if that counts.  I spent most of the weekend, between short bursts of activity, sprawled on the couch or my bed, trying to persuade my body not to be sick anymore.  It seems to have worked – I hardly needed my handkerchiefs at all today!  Of course, now that I’m getting better, Rosie has succumbed.  She’s really very pitiful, dragging herself around the house with a glassy-eyed fever stare.  Last night she begged me pathetically to run an errand of mercy to get her more NyQuil.  Oh, and orange juice.  Oh, and see if they have any of those popsicles made with real fruit.  Not the sugar-free kind.  How could I say no to that?

One of my bursts of energy was to attend Linus and SD’s housewarming.  They moved into a new, very hip house downtown, the kind with an open floor plan on many levels, and many features designed for “green living.”  It’s really a very cute house, and very them, even if their beloved dog is having difficulty figuring out how to walk on floors without carpeting.  I love their big windows, and that it’s not a McMansion built on what used to be perfectly good farm land out beyond the suburbs.  I also really liked seeing my swing dancing friends socially again.  For a little over a year after Jacob’s death I wasn’t really up to doing much social.  I’d have good intentions, want to go out and see people, but when it came time to actually get my butt out the door… I just couldn’t.  I’m afraid some of my relationships suffered because of this.  It’s good to start reconnecting again.

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