This is Owen's sock after dinner

Try to imagine what the rest of him looked like.

Anchors Away (sniff, sniff)

I hate change.  I'm the kind of sappy person who still owns the dress she wore under her high school graduation gown, and I have no delusions about that little drop waist, pleated hemline, lace-collared number ever coming back into style.  I'm sure this is where Peter Walsh would give me a speech about how things are not memories, but I can't help loving something that has a history.

And that is why I found myself nearly crying in my coffee today at The Anchorage.  Scott and I took Owen for one last Saturday morning Syrup Side Special before they close for good this coming Tuesday.  I started going to The Anchorage before we even moved to Homewood 10 years ago, and Scott has been a Friday regular for years, meeting up with the guys to share prayer requests and flirt with the feisty Linda (chase the link above for any necessary clarifications).  I thought we'd be taking Owen there for Saturday pancakes and then on to the toy store next door all the way into his elementary years.

And sorry as I feel for myself, the years we've put in at The Anchorage are piddly compared to many of the regulars.  The booth next to us this morning held parents and their two grown sons.  When it was time to leave, the dad walked to the register and paid, and then he fished a camera from his pocket and turned back for a picture of the place.  And there was the lady in her 80s sitting alone at the table behind us.  She grabbed the owner as he walked by and told him with a quaver, "Sure gonna miss this place."  It was a pitiful scene, I tell you! 

Why are they closing?  A wealthy guy in Sarasota, Florida who owns the building refused to renew their lease.  Poof!  A beloved restaurant that has run successfully for 67 years...gone. People who have cooked and served there for decades are out of a job.  Sure, business is business, and everyone loves to claim their capitalist right to turn a buck.  So why should a guy in Sarasota have considered what a little mom and pop place meant to Homewood, Alabama?

My answer is empty of economic sense and full of naivety.  Because it would have been the right thing to do.

Shoe story

Last Saturday night, we came to the realization that Owen had probably outgrown the little Stride Rites we picked up at the outlet mall back in May.  Which created a dilemma for me the next morning when I was dressing him for church.  Should I (A) hang my head and pass him through the Dutch door of his Sunday school class in his socked feet or (B) cram his sweet little piggies into the only shoes we have?  

I shamefully report that I decided his toes were less likely to bruise than my ego.  Option B it was.  And when we returned to the nursery after the service, we were handed a pitiful, fretting, barefoot baby.  
So Grandmother Kimeran and I made plans today to take Owen to the same store that shoed his dad 30 years ago, and Owen got the full-service treatment.  He quickly selected a mini-Merrell from the display and began chewing on it while I checked out the rest of our options.  He had his foot sized at 3.5 (only one-and-a-half sizes smaller than the ones I forced on him days earlier).  And after these shoes were deemed the winners, they put him on the counter and snapped a photo to commemorate his first official shoe store visit.  Then we went to lunch where a couple of cute college girls doted on Owen and told him he had some nice "kicks".

So see?  The story has a happy ending.  And a just one too.  Because while Owen got new shoes, guess what I got today?

A root canal.  

Ze Zoo

Scott and I ventured to the zoo with Owen for the first time yesterday.  And for the second time this week, we found ourselves out in the rain. (But at least this time we had some cute animals to look at.  Scott's humor wasn't nearly so good last Sunday when I coaxed him into leaving our perfectly good car in the driveway while we strolled 2 miles to get pizza, only to have the skies split open at just the moment it was time to walk back home.  Memories, I say!)

Owen:  "Ditty!"

Scott:  "No, not a kitty.  That's a kangaroo."

Owen:  "Ditty!"

Shelley:  "Nope, that's a sea lion."

Shelley:  "See the ring-tailed lemur?"

Owen:  "Ditty!"

Scott:  "Look Owen, the goat is eating hay right out of my hand."

Owen: "Ditty!"

Mental note for our next zoo trip:  Head straight for the lion and tiger enclosures.

Ball Boy

Early last summer Scott and I had dinner with Drew.  We had just started telling everyone our happy news, and I remember Drew asked me if I thought he would make a good uncle.  

The night Owen was born, Drew paced the halls of the hospital so nervously that he could have been mistaken for a father-to-be himself (or so I've been told...I was of course busy elsewhere). And even though it was touching to watch each of our family members make their initial introductions to our son, I'll never forget the look on Drew's face the first time he held Owen. 

So what got me thinking about all this?  That ball in the video was a gift from Uncle Drew, and Owen has barely let go of it since it entered his possession.  I have to alternate it from one hand to the other to change his clothes.  I have to coax him to hold it above his head while I change his diapers.  At nap time today, I had to wait for him to doze off before I could ease it from his grasp.  And I'm sure that ball will be just one of many beloved gifts Owen receives from his Uncle Drew.

Yep Drew, you make a wonderful uncle.

Games 2.0

Scott taught him this one too.  My apologies to environmentalists everywhere - I did not put it back on the roll.

Games Owen Plays

Owen is starting to catch on to little games Scott plays with him. (Not so much when I'm the teacher though. Is that because I do too many serious things like put him to bed, change his diapers, keep him from using the pizza cutter he snagged from the dishwasher to sever his finger?)  Well regardless, it's cute and I have a blast watching the two of them interact.

This week I'll try to feature some of the fun we have with Owen.

And for anyone out there who checks in with us from time to time but hasn't had the chance to comment, we'd love to hear from you!  (There's even a snazzy blogging term for it:  DE-LURKING)  All the Texas folk who usually write us are busy sitting in the dark, sweating and watching their freezers thaw, so our site could be sadly void of comments this week.

We DON'T like Ike

To all our friends and family on the Texas Gulf Coast,

Stay safe and dry if you are sheltering in place.  And traveling mercies to those of you who are evacuating.  We will be following the storm and waiting anxiously to hear from you.  We love you!

S, S & O

A troubling revelation

I was doing laundry today, and I pulled these two articles from the dryer at the same time.  What does it mean when your new favorite everyday dress matches one of your decade-old dish towels?

Playing Catch-up

Whew.  It feels good to be on-line again, but I confess that I feel hopelessly overwhelmed when I think about getting back on the blogging horse.  Three weeks is a long time in the life of Owen, so grab a cup of tea and settle in while I try to think of everything I want to tell you!

We lost internet service back at the end of August, which prematurely ended our fun with Name that Olympian and made a big fat liar out of me since I specifically promised more Olympic action.  Two other ideas that never came to fruition? 

• Owen in a long-sleeved onesie with 37 barrettes in his hair, holding a passport 
• Owen in ultra-tight shorts, a tank top, shades, and bling made out of Reynolds Wrap

It's been birthday season around here.  Owen's Uncle Tommy, Great Granddad, Uncle Drew and Coach all have birthdays within 8 days of each other.  We partied with Scott's extended family here one Friday night, and by Saturday afternoon Owen and I were in Texas for my Granddad's surprise 80th birthday party (Which, in retrospect, could have ended badly.  Should there be an age limit on intentionally startling people?)   

The night after we got back from Texas, Owen woke with a fever.  By the next day the little guy and I found ourselves exiled to the Land of Poo.  To give you some idea of what goes on in such a mythic place without completely traumatizing you, I'll just say Owen's car seat, stroller, crib, changing table, shopping cart cover and every pair of pants and shorts he owns have been recently scrubbed, soaked or sanitized.

The two front teeth I told you were on their way in SIX WEEKS ago are still torturing him, and now the teeth on either side of them are arriving too.  We've been sharing our table food with him, and I am happy to report that he has made his peace with bananas.  He's begun experiments for testing Newton's Laws of Motion on just about everything he touches (especially peas and pacifiers).  Our usual 45 minute walk took almost twice as long today because I had to troll the streets of Homewood looking for the green paci he'd chunked out.  And he's started making affectionate gestures like patting us on the back and putting his mouth to our cheeks. 

Finally, our most exciting news:  Owen is getting an Uncle Joey!  Congratulations Aunt Becky and Joe on your engagement!!! 

 

Answer Key:  1. Chinese gymnast 2.  Jeremy Wariner

Perfect 10

Boo! We're back...sort of. I'm posting from Texas since Owen is ten months old today. We came out to celebrate Owen's Great Granddad's and Coach's birthdays. I'll try to post more on that later - just sneaking this one in before we head off to the airport to fly home.

I dropped the ball on the Olympics thing when we got "Fay"ed. We haven't had internet at home in nearly 3 weeks. Sorry to be a tease.