In 1969, I gave birth to a baby girl in Kansas City, at Conley Clinic. She was born with three chins and rolls of fat on the back of her neck, and no hair on top of her head; she was so cross-eyed that my mother-in-law cried, the first time she held her. Which really made me feel bad, but I eventually forgave my mother-in-law.By the time my baby was six weeks old, her eyes only crossed when she was very, very sleepy and she had turned into a sweet-looking baby girl. She was a good-natured child who hardly ever cried without a good reason.
At exactly one year of age, she started walking, and applauded with us at such a wonderful feat.
She was cute and funny at eighteen months and got along with her big brother, although she refused to talk. By the time she was five years old, she was gorgeous. Somewhere along the line she learned to talk, and now she makes her living doing just that: talking. Be kind to your customer service representative, please.
Tomorrow she turns forty (Yes, she looks scared in this shot; you'd be scared too, if you were grandma before the age of forty).
Where did the time go?Happy birthday, Rachel! (Your daddy still says about you, quite often, "Isn't she pretty?)
Go on over to her blog and wish her a happy birthday!
My horse, Blue, turned fourteen years old yesterday. I helped him celebrate today by allowing him to carry me down along the Missouri River. I took a couple of videos so my readers could share the experience.
First, a ride through a wheat field. You'll notice his head goes down once in a while; this is when he's stealing a bite of green wheat. The clouds were beautiful.
Next, be amazed along with me at how casual Blue is near a passing train. In fact, he likes moving trains so much that he'd gladly go closer if I'd let him. It's just that I'm not comfortable any closer. Good grief, the ground is shaking already!
We saw farmers planting something. These days, there's no plowing or cultivating: They simply stick the seed in the ground and use a herbicide to kill the weeds. I wondered what they were planting.
Then I rode past this pickup and saw the empty seed-corn sacks.
Happy birthday, my noble steed (and babysitter). I don't know what I'd do without you.
By the time my baby was six weeks old, her eyes only crossed when she was very, very sleepy and she had turned into a sweet-looking baby girl. She was a good-natured child who hardly ever cried without a good reason.
At exactly one year of age, she started walking, and applauded with us at such a wonderful feat.
She was cute and funny at eighteen months and got along with her big brother, although she refused to talk. 
By the time she was five years old, she was gorgeous.
Somewhere along the line she learned to talk, and now she makes her living doing just that: talking. Be kind to your customer service representative, please.
Tomorrow she turns forty (Yes, she looks scared in this shot; you'd be scared too, if you were grandma before the age of forty).
