Even with all our blessings are we thankful? Not hardly! We complain about the economy. We fault our leaders (the same leaders that we have had the freedom to elect). We hate our jobs. And we are jealous of others who have more than we have.

The arrival of summer—finally—has resulted in the grounds around my home being awash in tiger lilies, a favorite flower since childhood. The orange smatterings have not only brightened my gardens, but my outlook. (How can you feel bad with such glorious splendor?) The opening of these flowers’ petals has reminded of a time so long ago.

With the somewhat-limited budget of a just-out-of-college and newly-employed professional, I liked to entertain…a lot. And I liked to do it in splendor. My means certainly didn’t justify the end that I liked to accomplish: wonderful food and beverages and beautiful table arrangements with magnificent floral centerpieces. But I managed. (My credit card statements at that time indicated just how I accomplished my festive and popular dinner parties.)

Yesterday when I was waiting in line to check out with the cashier at a drug store, a “lady” came and stood next to me. When it was my turn to move up to the cashier, she rushed in front of me leaving me in her dust. Amazement and anger turned to inspiration.

“Thank you for taking my turn and giving me some extra time in line,” I said to her in a gentle voice and with a smile on my face. She turned to look at me and said in a nasty voice, “It was my turn!”

Her words didn’t dissuade me. “Now I have time to pray for you,” I said. She mumbled something under her breath while I said a prayer for her…then one for myself. I also had time to thank God for the wisdom that he had bestowed on me in this incident. Peace filled me…and then I checked out. I had won!

On those days when my outfit ranges from “less-than-pleasing” to “just-plain-ghastly” I always run into someone I know. Even worse, that someone is usually the most fashionably dressed individual in my community. My first instinct is to run and hide. But alas! Mister or Miss Perfectly Dressed spots me immediately. Maybe it is because my pink pajama bottoms and blue clunker boots are the only thing visible under my faux leopard coat. Or they might be attracted by my “headful” of pink and blue giant hair rollers—I need the rollers to tame my very curly and very frizzy hair. Or it could be my lack of makeup—a no-no for a 60-something woman—combined with my royal blue sweats that were a perfect look for scrubbing toilets, but definitely not suitable for a quick trip to the supermarket for some more bleach!

My daughter, Libby, and her husband, Brian, are making me a grandma for the second time. The baby (sex?) is due in early November. Because Libby has had a couple of miscarriages, the couple wanted to hold off on the news until the first trimester had passed. It has and the baby’s heartbeat is strong and everything, according to the doctor, looks good!

Now this 63-year-old grandma needs to get her other two kids married so the grandchildren ranks grow even larger! (There is a disadvantage in getting married later in life. I was one month shy of my 33rd. birthday!)

Anyway, I’ll take what I can, and a second grandbaby is a joyous gift! (Now you know the secret, too!)

An advertising “trick” led me to my most recent bump in the road on my optimistic travels. On one exceptionally busy day—the kind with numerous stops on my driving itinerary—hunger struck me. I needed something to eat and with little time available, I needed to make a fast-food run to a drive-through. Ahhh! I decided to try one of those KFC (as in chicken) “snacker” things that are advertised so generously on TV. They are only a buck each—what a deal—and look large and delicious on the screen. (It takes the actor two hands to hold this food offering!) I ordered one with a beverage and drove out the drive-through salivating as the smell of the chicken hit my nostrils.

I read recipes, but I often don’t follow the steps as written. A recent example was a couple of loaves of sweet bread. Instead of doing step one…then step two…then step three, I put in the required ingredients as I took them out of the cupboard. Or so I thought. I mixed up the bread; poured it into the greased loaf pans and just as I was about to put the two loaves into the oven I realized that I had forgotten to add the three eggs (step one). The reason: the eggs were in the refrigerator; all the other ingredients were in the cupboards.

My husband promises to do this or that. He doesn’t. When I remind him that he promised, he’ll promise again and even give me a target date for fulfilling his promise. And, guess what! He again misses living up to his promise. This has been going on for more than 30 years and I should be used to it, but I’m not. To me a promise is a promise.

Friends and family members make promises that they never keep. To them, their promises are just words that they think I want to hear so they say them. I’ll give them the benefit of a doubt. I believe that they plan to keep their promises when they make them, but, most times, if keeping the promise is inconvenient or just lip service, the promise goes unfulfilled.

When my kids were young and “just knew” that this or that was going to come true, I pulled out the “count your chicken” adage. But, like me, they choose to ignore the good advice behind the words. Many times, they, too, were sadly disappointed.

Now that I am all grown up and know how the world works I try to refrain from expecting anything until it does, in fact, become a reality. A recent example: I went to dinner with friends to a restaurant that had high reviews. I ordered the specialty dish, which the menu had given a five-star rating. It was expensive, but, I was sure, it was well worth the hefty price. My mind and taste buds worked overtime waiting for my food to arrive. I was about to have the best meal that I have had in a very long time. Finally it arrived. The presentation was everything that I had hoped. I savored the smell as I picked up my fork for a truly great culinary experience. The first bite told me that although it was good, it wasn’t that good. I’m not known for my cooking skills, but I know I could have done equally well preparing this dish. I was so disappointed and my wallet was depleted!

When I was in my 20s and dating a guy named Bill, I thought I was in love. He was great looking, intelligent and treated me very well. There were, however, lots of negatives. He was secretive and unable to share his true thoughts and feelings with me. And, if the truth be told, he was quite boring. But alas! He was really great looking, had a good paying job, drove a red Mustang convertible, dressed well and took me to really nice places. Who wouldn’t want a man like this? I thought I did…especially one night after a really good date with him. I was getting ready for bed and my radio was playing in the background. Just as I was turning the light off a song I had never heard before came over the radio. A woman singer was belting out “Bill, I love him so and I always will…” A “sign,” for sure? I was meant to be in love with Bill! Forget my misgivings, Bill was the one!

I’m the type of person who will share anything and everything with others. I am what is known as “an open book.” Ask me about my husband and I’ll tell you what you want to know. Ask about my children and you’ll get the whole story. (Luckily, my husband and children are such exceptionally good individuals and most people don’t want to hear all the good stuff!) Ask about me and well…how much time do you have?

Carrying around a secret someone has shared with me is a great responsibility. If it’s a good secret, I really want to share it. If it’s a secret about something that leads to others making a wrong judgment about someone, I’m tempted to set the record straight. In either case, I’m cooked because I promised to keep my mouth shut.

Soon after my husband and I were married, we discovered that getting pregnant and having children might not be possible. When we heard this devastating news we began a nightly ritual, on our knees, praying to God for a child. We also began weekly visits to a fertility specialist and a regime of tests and procedures. The combination of God and medicine worked. We were blessed first with a son and then a daughter. Our family was complete. We had a boy; we had a girl. We had everything we had hoped for…or so we thought.

Having two small children—they are 18 months apart in age—was sometimes overwhelming for an “older” mom and dad. Our energy was challenged, but our joy never was.

I love to knit. It’s a relaxing hobby that brings me joy. Since I’ve been a knitter for years, I’ve tried many different projects and because of this, family and friends have been treated to many of my hand-knitted creations.

A few years ago, my favorite hand-knitted gifts for new moms and new grandmothers were cute little caps for the new arrivals. I made pumpkin caps, strawberry caps, blackberry caps, watermelons caps. I also make flower caps for spring and caps with Christmas and winter themes. I knitted and gave many caps.

I enjoyed making them and giving these caps. The receivers were thrilled with them, so much so that many suggested that I make them to sell. Although I knew better—I don’t like to turn a hobby into a business—I decided to do this. I even went as far as finding a children’s boutique willing to sell my caps. (It would pay me $20 for each cap it sold and it would retail it for double this price.) This sounded great to me and I began to plan how I was going to spend all the money I was going to make.

A young (in her early 40s) friend’s diabetes has forced her to have both a kidney and pancreas transplants. Following these major surgeries, her vision began failing. Now she is blind.

I met this person and we became friends more than 10 years ago when she was a vibrant and successful businesswoman. Attractive, single and with a great sense of humor, it was easy to like her. Besides, I thought, it’s good having younger friends—I’m 20 years her senior. Now I’ll have someone to take me to my doctor appointments when I get old! (This was just a passing thought and definitely not the reason for my friendship with her. She was and is a wonderful person!)