My Estate

 

I'm finding myself a little pensive this evening. I was sitting at the dinner table looking at the overflowing china hutch and wondering if any of my children will ever be interested in the fragile treasures that are so dear to my heart.

 

Many of these things belonged to my grandmother, or were actually painted by her. These dainties have tremendous sentimental value. I'm very protective of this collection. I'm wondering if there is a lick of sense in that.

 

I have no problem imagining my daughter with dollies and teacups in her home, although the potential of said home being remotely tidy is a daydream for sure. Aaron is still young enough that I can imagine his future just about any way I want it to be. It's a funny thing with kids, how we create them in our imagination. I have had a grieving process of sorts over each of my children as they grow because they cease to be what I imagined, and they materialize into something real. Not that that's necessarily bad. I think it's natural. It's certainly more difficult when they serve prison time instead of becoming a politician, but the principle is the same, I think.

 

When they were little, I envisioned, somehow, that I'd chose well-suited spouses and settle them in nearby cottages where I could bounce all those grandbabies on my knee. Because I'm nothing if not controlling and creepy.

 

They are nothing like I thought they would be. Aaron has ginormous feet and wears shorts in the dead of winter. He is analytical and quirky. Michael tucks his sweat pants into his cowboy boots, and flexes his biceps. He can make everyone laugh, and genuinely cares about people. Don is lanky and handsome, but listens to Rap. He is insightful and creative. Faline alternates between scowls and smiles and doesn't eat enough, but she's artistic and wise beyond her years. They are each so unique, and so different than I could ever have imagined.

 

I'm glad that they are each their own person. I get to study them and learn from them. The process also stresses me out, but whatever.

 

2008

2015

When the day comes for these four to sort through the loads of nonsense that I value, I wonder which things will matter to them. Will they argue over who gets the tea set painted by their Great Granny, or will that go to the Goodwill? Will they treasure my valuables, or will they treasure the values they grew up with?
Will they know, beyond a doubt, that they are loved... Just as they are? Will they know that their mother is so very proud of them? That she is deeply grateful to God for giving them to her? I hope that is what they see in the teacups and doilies... in the boxes of books and the knickknacks.

That's the sort of thought that makes my porcelain and crystal so precious. It's a reminder of the love of my family; of my heritage, and my Grandparent's legacy. That's what I want to leave to my children.

Who am I?

I visited my blog this morning, and had trouble logging in. After months away, I could not recall my user name and password. It took several tries to crack my own code, but here I am at last.

If I am, indeed, to begin writing again (and I think I'd like to), perhaps a review is in order. It's been so long since I wrote regularly, and the cast of characters in my daily life has changed a bit. My marital status, health condition, and daily occupation has all changed since the days when I wrote regularly.

I have been married now for two years and two months, which pitiful brevity seems to detract from any credibility regarding our beautiful joy. Newlywed status means that we have not yet weathered the stresses of a real marriage, so we can't possibly have much to say. Perhaps that's so. Perhaps not. Our marriage is a very happy one.

We have four problems.

The bible says that Children are a blessing from the Lord, and I believe that to be true. The blessing is in large part due to the molding of a parent's character, and to those shining moments when a child excels. These are the moments which keep one from homicide.

Michael is our oldest, and he is rapidly approaching 17. He lives for Lacrosse, drives a truck, and is deathly terrified of a clean room. He hunts wildlife and pretty girls.

Don is the second in line, and he is almost 15. He was born sweet and funny, and also quite tidy. Now he is an angst-ridden Eminem fan. I hold out hope. Don plays guitar and lacrosse.

Faline is a teenager, too. She is due to turn 14 in December. This makes her expensive and unpredictable. She loves fashion and animals. She plays lacrosse and piano.

Aaron is 9, with a birthday coming up. He is noisy and giggly, and completely uncoordinated. He personifies uninhibited-ness. He's learning piano, and plays lacrosse.

In truth, they are wonderful people. They are also the constant driving force of all we do. Their school and hobbies take our time and money. Their emotional needs require our thought and attention. They are the axis around which our world spins....or, is lacrosse the axis around which our world spins? The line blurs.

On what I did this Summer....

Every September, when I was a kid, teachers everywhere forced a dreadful writing assignment upon the youth of America. "What I did last Summer."
It was always my opinion that the only thing worse than Math was writing that one was forced to do. I could never think of what to write. Not unlike blogging, come to mention it.
I used to blog every morning, first thing, with coffee. I used to evaluate my daily happenings in terms of their blogworthiness. Is that a word? And I'm so far out of the habit. The upside of not writing for a year or so is that no one is likely to be reading. That way, I have no pressure.

We did a lot this Summer. How come I never had Summers like this when I was a kid? I could have written great papers with this kind of material.

Michael ran off to Denver, first. We sent him on a road trip with a car full of teenage guys. Don't judge me too harshly...the alternative was to go ourselves, and that just sounded like too much smelly-lacrosse-players too be any kind of fun. They were supervised by a very vigilant mom, so we didn't lose any sleep. He had the time of his life.

We went to Maui in July. It was a marvelous trip with a brief visit to California on either end. That's because we drove to California, and flew from there to Maui. We flew back into CA, and drove home again. We have lots of family in California, see, and we wanted to see just how much love we could spread around in a very short window of opportunity. Time with family should always be reprieved by a stint in the tropics; don't you agree? It makes one far more congenial than one might otherwise be.

After our return from Maui, we stayed with my grandparents. This is one place in the world that always feels like home to me. They were delightful. Everyone was, really. We have fantastic family. I think we would be far better houseguests if we uncluttered our next trip.

The problem was all the house-hopping we did. Which, surprisingly, reminds me of an unrelated story.
My Aunt and Uncle were missionaries for many years. They were financially supported in this endeavor by the people in churches all over the Northwest. Every four years they would venture back to the States for a Summertime visit with everyone who supported them. This meant a transient lifestyle for several months to a year. It meant sleeping in other people's homes, and eating other people's food, and being nice to strangers all the time. Can you imagine how hard that would be? I mention this only because visiting several different families on the bookends of our Hawaiian vacation gave me no little appreciation for their former plight. We had our four kids, my one sister, and quite a bit of luggage. We tried to be kind of quiet, to not make a mess, and to sleep in strange surroundings. It was taxing.
The people we got to see were great, though. I like them a lot. I sure wish they'd come visit us here. Where I can sleep in my own bed.
Anyway.
Maui wasn't a bit difficult to enjoy.


In fact,the only thing there that I didn't like at all was the snorkeling. Snorkeling totally freaked me out. I'm normally kind of a daredevil. That little mask-thingy suffocating my nose, while strange fish dive about under my feet, which are trapped in things I can't walk in, all while being suspended in waves which were entirely unpredictable.....? No thank you. I vastly preferred acquiring tan-lines and sand in my suit. These activities were supplemented by vigorous shopping, and not a few margaritas.

Clearly, I wasted no time in styling my hair. This was a trend which seems to have become well rooted in my daily regimen. Alas.

You would think that all this excitement would be sufficient for one Summer, and you may well be correct. We sallied forth, however, into an additional time of family bonding. Always the overachievers....we ventured forth to explore Yellowstone National Park.


Tim fished a lot.

The kids evaluated potential threat from an ermine living near our cabin.

Tim found this branch, which amused him no end. If he turned the branch one way, he could be an elk. The other way, he was a bison. That man's a keeper, I tell ya.

Michael's shore fishing was thwarted by the canoe full of his siblings. He was mostly pretty good-natured about it.

..........Sheesh! That was a lot of Summer. Now we're home, and back to school, and I'm tired of writing. Pity, since there's more to tell.
Perhaps I'll blog again soon.
Perhaps not.

swimmin'

Swinsuit shopping last year was a matter of baiting the hook. I was single until August. However, I wanted to make sure to whet his appetite...well...as much as a woman-pushing-40-with-stretch-marks possibly can. (I just typed that confession on the public internet. Oh, dear.)
Last year, I wore a bikini.
This year, I am looking at swimwear with an eye to profound modesty. I have a daughter, see, and swimwear should cover her knees to neck.
Ah, what a little perspective can do.

I think that swimwear can really track the course of a woman's life.

There's that heady rush of independance as a teen, when we women realize the power of cleavage...and the bikini becomes a way of flexing our muscle (so to speak). My daughter will not be allowed, of course.

Then, as a young mom, modesty becomes a practical matter. I remember looking for swimwear I could nurse the baby in, without feeling fat and potpartum. That was swimwear with a batik pattern, meant to dizzy anyone brazen enough to look for long.

Once the kids were older, and I'd lost the baby fat, I found that gravity had come to stay...and I discovered Land's End. Their swimwear costs a fortune and provides support. I had a "swimdress" that I could have played tennis in without a blush.

And then,

and then....

I decided that no one was looking anyway, so why not get some sun? I bought a bikini (well-supported and overpriced). And I relaxed a lot. My stretched- out stomach faced UV rays for the first time since the late '80's.

I met Tim. All of a sudden, I had swimwear for swimming with my friends (bikini) and swimwear for Tim's pool (swimdress). I was modest right up until he expressed interest, and shared his Prince Album collection.

....Have you heard Prince? I started buying string bikinis.

And then, I had a daughter.

What am I going to wear this Summer? No idea. But I know what my girl is going to wear this Summer. There will be exactly NO cleavage. Swim Dress, baby.

On what I did this weekend

I ran four miles today with my sister. It was the first time in years that I had that euphoria that comes from running. It's like a drug. My sister is 25, as you'll recall. She was very gracious in pretending that she was keeping pace with me. She could have kicked my butt, no doubt.

Tim and I were in California for the weekend. We hung out with my grandparents, his grandpa, and his folks. But mostly my grandparents.
See, My grandparents love me. They have poured into my life more that all other people combined (save my mom). They are worthy of my respect. When I was looking for a man...I was looking for a man like Granny married.
This was the first time my Tim had met my grandparents.
It was Very Good.
As an extra bonus, the sun was shining. Love that.

We sat on the patio in the sun. Granny and Grandpa in their winter sweaters, me and Tim in Summer clothes. We soaked up the sun and talked about things that really matter. We talked about the kids, and the past, and the church, and the news. The hummingbirds dived through the air around us, and we exalted in relationship.

Relationship is God-like. It is what He designed us for, and it flows through our veins.

I love the relationships I have. They are a gift.
I love my grandparents.
I love my man.

Oh, look at the time!

I have not given the week ahead even the most frivolous overview, on account of my Mother-In-law and her visit. It is my custom, upon a Sunday evening, to diagram the week ahead, and post an artistic rendering upon the 'fridge. That way I know exactly what is expected of me and my schedule day-by-day. That way the children have an answer to the incessant "what are we doing tomorrow?"
Not so much this week.
Is it Sunday? Monday?
No idea.

The meeting this weekend with my husband's-late-wife's-mother went great. I like her rather a lot. She brought along her sister-who-is-not-really-biologically-related. They like wine, which adds considerably to general conviviality and conversation. Not to mention the raucous singing that we did while Tim was cooking dinner. We pulled out, first an old hymnal, then an interesting piano book full of various tunes. "Little Brown Jug," "My Country Tis of Thee," "Just like the girl that married dear old dad." Oh, we sang! They are my kind of people.

I faintly recall something about a half marathon. Am I supposed to be running now- and-again? I logged 2 miles on Saturday, so I have that going for me.
The thought of springing from my bed to energetically propel my aging flesh down the street, is enough to make me sob.
I think I hate exercise.

I recently heard from a gal I used to know who recently discovered my blog. (Hi Tracy! Welcome!) After reading for the first time, she helpfully offered me several pieces of advice on weight loss. It occurred to me that I must sound like rather a large woman in despair of losing weight. At first consideration, I found this somewhat shocking, but then I began to chuckle.
I do expend rather too much energy on the subject of dress size. I'm not sure why I do this. Perhaps it's that I find the topic such rich fodder for humor.
I'm not a very big person. I do tend to fluctuate in a typically female fashion. Currently I wear a very comfortable size 6, but I prefer those items of clothing that boast a "4." I'm quite vain in this way.
There are days...years even, when I am 8, or 10. My self esteem does suffer during those periods of time. It's just that I am not tall enough to carry double-digits. It isn't pretty on me.
Actually, I love to workout. It's just the running that I find tedious. It's very efficient, but I find it boring. I am in the market for an MP3 player, as I believe I've mentioned. I think that will help.

I also love food. This is why the running is such a helpful addition to my daily routine. It encourages my waistline not to store much excess. Otherwise the 4's aren't even an option in the vanity sizes.

An exercise in futility

Tim's mother-in-law is coming to town tomorrow, which is not to say that my mother is coming over. Tim was married previously, and widowed, so this Mother-In-Law is his late wife's mom. I've not met her before.

Perhaps you can imagine how intimidating this meeting is for me. I am married to her late daughter's husband, and raising her grandchildren. I don't stand a chance of being remotely good enough.

I'd like the house to look like a show home, and I'd like to lose 15 pounds. I freshened up the color on my hair first thing this morning. I painted my nails, all 20 of them. And now I am cleaning the house. The thing is, that as I clean, there are several children, two dogs and a cat, who are working as vigourously as I at opposite purpose. It's making me crazy. Why are they such messy creatures, children?

So, I'm nervous about meeting this woman. Tim says that I have no need to be nervous, because she's a great lady. But, really, how would you feel?

So, now I'm blogging rather than cleaning, which is not designed to improve the state of my house, but works wonders for the state of my mind.
Wish me luck....

Running and Health care reform

My darling-very-young-sister-who-is-20-something invited me to run in a half marathon with her. Naturally, since the weight training, and the martial arts, have not reduced me to a size 2, I said "yes."
That's not quite what I said.
What I actually said was somewhat less committal. I told her that I really don't know if my body will go for thirteen consecutive miles, but that I'm game to train for it. So I turned what I do on the treadmill into an aggressive training regimen. I'm quite proud of myself, really. I've kept to the plan all week long.

And my sister? The young one? Her daughter, my beautiful niece, was hospitalized this week for croup. Did you know that croup could be life-threatening? I didn't know that before this little adventure. It was terrible. She's ok now. She got to go home this morning. She's 2, and adorable, and there she was in the hospital.
My poor sister! These things are always hardest on the mom.

Our family does spend a lot of time in hospitals. Why do we do that? In the past year, we've been there for my niece, my nephew's birth, my son's ruptured appendix, my cousin....who else? It's ridiculous. We need some kind of frequent flyer punch-card. We're beginning to know the staff on a first-name basis. I even have favorite menu items picked out from the cafeteria.

You don't think that a half marathon will land me in the hospital, do you?

Identity crisis

I totally need to reinvent this blog. What in the world shall I write about? I'm not very funny these days. I'm no longer single. I'm all smarmy-in-love, and working hard at being a mom and wife. How boring is that?
The details of my day are not worth the writing.
Except
Something happened last night.
At 3 am the smoke detector went screaming. I bolted out of a deep sleep, paused to take inventory of my modesty status, and dove into the house at large. Aaron was sreaming for daddy, and barely audible over the alarm. I went to his room. Tim stumbled into conciousness and was searching for a fire before his mind even registered that he was awake.
There was no fire.
We ended up with a febrile child in our bed for the rest of the night. His fever hardly seemed adequate to have sounded an alarm. It was adequate to prevent further sleep, however.
Back when I was single, I'd have to encounter those smoke detectors from time to time. Mostly, they would chirp when the batteries would die. I would swat them with a broom, until they dropped to my feet in silence. My old house needs new smoke detectors, for this reason.
Tonight I am dizzy on my feet. Sleep is a welcome prospect. All four children seem like Energizer bunnies. Why don't they get tired?

I am going to bed.
What should I blog about next?

As I was on my way to Michael's room...

It's really hard to think of things to say here when I get out of the habit of writing.
I'm tired from too little sleep. Growing fat from too many eats. Deleriously happy from being in love. Marriage is lots of fun.
Also, I am learning to golf. Rather, I am learning how Not to swing a golf club. It seems cruely wrong that smaking a tiny white ball should be so technical. I suck at it.
Now that I'm not a welfare mom anymore, I drive a BMW, and golf. Tim bought me my own clubs and a glove-thingy to wear. I look like Michael Jackson, armed with a club.
I have four kids now. Have you heard? Bedtime is my favorite time of day. The oldest and youngest go to bed about 9:30, and the middle two have lights-out at 10. Ten O'clock is when I pour a glass of wine, and put on my music. From the time my feet hit the floor in the morning, until the kids retire, I am mostly running. Well, except now, since I am blogging. I'd actually like a nap, but I can't sqeeze it in.
I came upstairs to make Michael's bed and clean his room. See how I got derailed at the computer? Michael is least capable of keeping his room clean. It's quite a distinction around here.
I'd better get back to it.

Patience, Grasshopper

It's hard to imagine why I don't have time to write just now. Today, I've been on the phone discussing insurance, utilities, and can I just say how very much I HATE QUEST TELEPHONE...? May I say that online?
The boys are at football practice, Tim is assembling a stationary bike, and the younger two are at-one-with-the-screen. TV screen, that is.
I thought I'd say hi.
Marriage is great. I don't know what you all complain about all the time. He cooks, cleans, and adores me. What could be better?
Seriously, I have no creativity for a post. I thought I'd drop in and bore you before going to collect stinky kids from practice.
I'll write more one day real soon.

Tim and more pictures. And also Tim.

I have a lot on my mind. There's that home-again-laundry, of course. There's yard work. There's way a lot of lacrosse. I'm in love, though, and I'm thinking about that a lot. You know how Spring is supposed to make you all twitterpatted?. It's working.
I actually went to Eagle Island this afternoon with Kara, and later sat on the patio at our favorite restaurant. That was glorious. I love Summertime with Kara. We got a bit sunkissed, she and I. She's burned because she didn't put on the sunscreen. That's gonna hurt.

But, my lunch date was very much on my mind. Tim took me to lunch today at a lovely Deli, where we sat in the sunshine, and I admired his jawline and his biceps. He is so hot.
I think I need therapy because I'm so in love. Really. He'll be talking about golf or policics, and my mind is scrolling though all these months I've known him, and how imporobable it is that he actually likes me, and how dreamy his lips are. And I smile like an idiot, and thank God in a silent prayer.
I heard what he said about politics. Really.

I wrote a list, years ago, about those things I required in a man. It's a long time I've been unmarried, and I gave some thought to the matter.
There was once, in particular, when I thougt I ought to loosen my standard a bit. I was tempted to give up being so strict and so....well, you know. I totally thought I would never find the sort of man I wanted.
This one's better. Oh, he's wwaaayyy better.

I'm so annoying, aren't I?
Fine. We'll view my photos, then, shall we?


Here is Mother (in the celery colored shirt) with her sister, in the middle (Auntie Lynda) and their cousin, Charlotte. Mother looks like she has beady eyes in this photo, which is not the case. She really has lovely brown eyes. And look at that hair! She is an old lady and you can't even tell. I hope I have her genes.


Ok, this is my neice, Maddie (in the center), and Jenine's kids (Sarah and Rachel) They would be second cousins, or something.


This is my sister, Dani, and her daughter, Mika. Beautiful, no? Dani is also Maddie's mom. Dani is due in September with 3#, and we need to pray her a boy. Otherwise she'll think the entire world is made of "sugar and spice and everything nice," and she will be skinny, and we'll have to hate her. That would be such a waste.


Owen, of the sign language,and the straw confusion. Tell me this child is not cute! His momma was the first person in the world to know that I was pregnant for Michael, since she was sleeping on the couch at my grandmother's house when I did the test....but that was 15 years ago. Jessie is due with her second in June. Owen's momma is Jessi, who is Jenn and Johanna's eldest sister. Are you taking notes?


May I introduce another child de familia? This is ZaaZaa, formally named Isaiah. He is a love. Also, we should jointly pray him a sibling! He is the son of faithful reader, cousin Jenn. You may all thank her for the recent addition of photos to this blog, as she gave me a camera. "Hi Jenn!"

What?
I can bring any conversation back to Tim.
It's a gift, I tell ya.


Is it my fault that I am so loved?
I need some new pictures of Tim, huh?

The whole fam-dam-ly

Johanna is a common victim of my inept shooting. Here she is looking particularly sultry in a turquoise scarf.


Obviously, Jess is hardly pregnant at all. Her little boy, Owen, stole my heart with his sign language. I think I have a photo of him around here....he was trying to drink from a straw, by tipping the cup way up. It was vastly entertaining.


The kids found two baby birds who had fallen from the tree. These birds became the beneficiaries of a great deal of loving ministrations from Jenine's kids and mine. I wonder if the birds survived? I wonder if they wanted to?



The reunion was momentous and beautiful and important....and also dizzying. There were 50ish people there, some I'd never met. It was a 48-hour event, at a hotel in Minden, Nevada. There were some moments where I was so overwhelmed that I wanted to suck my thumb in the fetal position and hide.
There were several times that I did.

Mother and Mika and I tried to dress up for the big dinner event. While the two of them succeeded, I did not. I packed poorly, you see. I managed to bring very little in the hot weather department, and consequently wore the same white tank top all weekend long. I am sure it didn't smell bad at all. The red scarf was to dress it up a bit. Sort of distract everyone.


Grandpa (in the blue shirt) welcomed us all, and thanked us for being his descendants. Or something.


Jo took herself, and her tea, to the picnic table right outside our room every morning. She wakes up slow, does my Johanna. But she's right presentable once she's had her tea.


The "boys" in the matching hats are my mother's first cousins. They are the baby brothers of the cowboy (Norman), and their names are David and Douglas. David has the impressive facial hair and the Harley Davidson. Dougy is the most subdued of the three, and always seems to be quietly amused by everyone else's antics. I love them, all.


This picture is a bit superfluous, I suppose. Sorry.

Preview of the reunion

Me and my cousins. These boys were like brothers to me growing up.


We start 'em young in our family. This is my neice, and my cousin's daughter.


This is what a real cowboy looks like. He's also my cousin.


This is what a guest blogger looks like. This is another cousin. I collect them.


Me and Sophie....you guessed it, she's a cousin.

I'll bring you more after work today.

Kermit de frog here

Coming to you live, from the wilds of Nevada, where the family reunion has begun. My sister and I drove here this very day. We brought along my children, of course. We left this morning, sometime between 6 and 7 am, which means that I was up at 5. Now I am a zombie. Everyone who is related to me on my Mother's side is here, or shall be tomorrow.
Johanna and I are sequestered in our room, awaiting the pizza delivery man. My children are running off with cousins, so it's quiet here. The richer members of our entourage are going out to eat Basque Food at an expensive restaurant. Like I said, me and Jo are poor.
We are also sunburned. When we arrived today, we sat out in the sun with chilled white, and cousins. Now we are red.
Have I MENTIONED THE TIREDNESS?
Therefore, I shall allow Jenn to speak a few words to you:

------
Hello, fellow readers. This is Kelly's cousin, Jenn. We are together in the middle of nowhere, Nevada. We haven't seen each other in many years and so our entire extended family has descended on this resort/casino in order to wreak havoc on the Nevadans. I am guest blogging for Kelly since she wants to let you all know that we are here, doing nothing. So far we are waiting on the pizza and playing with a camera. And at the moment she is photographing me, which I am sure she'll post in order to prove that I exist. Don't you wish you were part of our family?

In fact, things have gone in a typical family fashion. So far there are many, many of us and very, very little brain. See, we all like to talk and make much noise and merriment but not a single one of us is capable of making a decision. So we all talk about ALL of the possible options but then none of us actually make any decisions. So come, be a bit crazy with us!

In which I rehash my past, and shock you with tales of TV viewing

In church today we were singing a song about how God makes "beauty from the ashes," and how He's a "Father to the fatherless," and mostly really does nice things for lonely people. I had to dab at my eyes so my mascara wouldn't run, because I was touched by a truth in that message.
There I was, in church, feeling all loved and happy, and I remembered how it once was. Those days when I was the loneliest person ever to be married to a Meth addict. There were days when life was so horrible! But it's all way back, a decade ago. Things have been relatively calm for a very long time.
Being in love with Tim shows me that those wounds have healed, in such a way that I have a greater capacity to love, and be loved. I like this relationship, and I am pretty sure that any normal woman would. But I think I am able to exalt in it all the more because of the horribleness from days-gone-by.
Every once in a while you get a glimpse of reality, like a perspective shift that shows things from a different angle. That's the way this hit me.
I know it must get annoying to hear my sappy love story. But the truth of it is that I ain't never seen nothin' like this.
No one has ever been loved so much as I am.
There was a time when I could not conceive of being happy. There were days and years when I was more lonely than I can say. There was an entire section of life colored by shock and hopelessness. It's a distant memory, now, and that is an act of God.
Today is as glorious, as yesterday was malicious.

But enough of that.

You are dying to know about my weekend, aren't you?
I have been cleaning out my junk. My garage has a great big pile of stuff to give away. "If you want it, here it is, come and get it"....isn't that from a song? Come and get stuff from my house, and take it to yours. Who wants my sewing machine? Patsy, come get my fabric. Who wants some useless junk? Broken patio furniture? Anyone?

Tim has roped me into watching a TV show. I know; don't faint. It's called "24." Do you watch that? He records it on his fancy-shmancy TV, and we watch it Saturday evenings. I am so sucked in! TV is like watching a really long movie, all stretched out over months. It's inefficient, if you ask me. But compelling.

We ate out this weekend, twice.
Tim and I had a grown up dinner on Friday evening at a very nice restaurant. I drank an entire bottle of wine over the course of the evening, and became somewhat verbose. I didn't mean to. We had a glass of red before we left the house. A glass of white with the appetizers. Then the bottle of petite Shiraz, which we split. When it was time to stand up and leave, I found myself rather unexpectedly dizzy. I should have been mindful, apparently. Although, upon reflection, the dizziness did explain why I was talking so freely.
The other time we ate out this weekend was today after church. He took us all to Panda Express, and Burger King. I know, he's classy. But, it was the two requests made by the children, and he bought all they wanted. My kids think they've died and gone to heaven. Such decadence! Two restaurants on the way home?! Order anything you want?! Even if it's not on the dollar menu?! They pretty much want to marry Tim.

I am now sick of sitting still. And those dinner dishes aren't getting any cleaner. Besides, I said "ain't" and discussed TV. I should quit while I'm ahead.

Prepositions

Do you remember the Family Circus cartoons where the little boy runs over, under, through, and around, everything in the whole house and yard?
That's like me, only city-wide.
On Monday, I worked at three locations, ranging from the far West of the valley, to the South-most end. Then, I dashed home to collect my young lacrosse-men, and delivered each to their respective practices, one on the North end of reality, and the other on the South. Then, I had to go pick them each up again. I was sitting in the car for hours.
I did something similar in my work adventures on Tuesday. Only, that day I got to go East, in addition to up, and South.
God did not design me to be a sedentary person, and so sitting in the car for hours kills me. This is why children are allowed to drive at such a young age, isn't it?

Meanwhile, My house has not been cleaned all week.
But, I have my priorities straight, because I'm making time to blog. So, that's a relief.

Don has his first lacrosse game tonight, and he is very excited. Michael has one, too. One is in Meridian, and one is in Boise, and both are at the same time. Are you feeling my pain?
It's supposed to be raining cats and dogs at game time, which is typical of lacrosse season. Cold, wet, and stressed. What could possibly be better?

Oh, pshaw!
How can I be entitled to complain? I'm employed, in love, and a size 4. Hate me.

In other riveting news, I am trying to grow my bangs out. This is an annual endeavor, and it's quite silly. I don't really look good without bangs, on account of having Princess Diana's nose planted in the middle of my face. I'll grow my bangs through the awkward stage, and then I'll cut them, and I'll say something about how I should never try that again. Much like when I try to go with my natural color. I really ought to be a blond.

Also? Is everyone anticipating my family reunion as much as I am? It's about three weeks away. I have favorite cousins....all of my cousins are my favorites. I'm very excited to see them.
Johanna and I made a solemn vow to bring along only those clothes which make us deeply happy to wear. We always do this when we get together, because we are each a bit flamboyant. For your amusement, I have included an image of our feet, Johanna's and mine. I feel certain that these shoes will accompany us on our reunion weekend.



So, in conclusion, I would like to note that this post is very much like my driving habits of late. Random, erratic, and excessive. Which is very surprising, coming from me.

A weekend in Sin Valley

I am such a lame blogger.
Seriously, how do you people stand me?

I am a lame phone-call-returner, too. I am always in the middle of something, so I never answer my phone. It's in my purse, or in the car, or in the other room, anyway. I do not check my messages very often....about once a week. I do have a home phone, but no answering machine. Do not dial my number in an emergency. I hate the phone.
Between the land line and the cell phone, I pay a large percentage of my income for something I hate, and rarely use. I am a loser.

The biggest News Flash in my world is the Family Reunion that is brewing. It is going to take place at a place in Nevada, because we are avid gamblers. Not really. It is in Nevada, but only because that allows us all to travel approximately equal distance. Plus, also, My sister can gamble (Hi Dani!).
This Family Reunion came up fairly suddenly, and it's probably my mother's fault. I try to blame most things on her (Love you momma). My Grandparents, Great Aunt, and various and sundry cousins, nieces, and sisters, all will be there. It is a momentous occasion. If you want to buy me a new camera for the occasion, you just fire me an email, and I'll give you my mailing address.

Jenn, are you going to hop a flight? "Yes" is the right answer.
Jessi? You are coming, right? Girls...you must come.
You know you want to. Everybody's doing it.
MUST. Because I said so.

It's in a month. The countdown is on.
Oh, there is bound to be excitement, drama, intrigue! It is my family, after all.