Winter in Texas

So I've finally admitted that autumn is over and winter is finally upon us and my first impression of the state may have worn off. With the changing of the seasons I still love my second home but I must say there are a few observations that I feel must be reported. I don't know how my Mother ever managed the changing of the seasons in California but the abrupt, yet welcome drop in temperature has been.... special. Christmas decorations are flying up (sometimes more literally than figuratively), it takes us at least seven minutes to dress every individual child for the weather, leaves are migrating into the house with every little person's step, Jim get's out every time a door is left open, and the baby's breath has become special to say the least. With all this cheerfulness it's hard to stay sober... er, I meant somber. This will be my first Christmas away from my parents and brothers and sister; as happy as I am to be here, I sometimes get caught up with the fact that there are people who aren't here... that normally are. I just want you to know that I miss you, I wish you were here, but I feel like I'm supposed to be here now. Don't feel neglected- just remember that in everything I do, I am most CERTAINLY my Father's daughter... but I promise not to marry a guy who doesn't speak your language or your culture... or join the seminary for ten years.

The Patriot's Wife

As some of you may have heard by now, I spent a few days in Virginia with my nearest and dearest friend. While there we did a whirlwind tour of some of the closer historical sites including Colonial Williamsberg and Monticello. Due to this I got on a giant history kick (I know, it's not that far for me to go) and while there I started writing this song. It's told from the perspective of Abigail Adams and actually has some relevancy from some of her actual letters but are not her actual words. I need feedback. I'm aware it's cheesy. A bridge will be coming soon.

A knock at the door around four am
And by now I know that it won't be long
Our children will be up soon but it will be too late
And I'll have to say that you have gone
You kiss me before you go and reassure me that you'll be missing me
And you'll write when you get through to Boston
As you turn to go you ask if there is anything I need
And I pray you won't be long gone
But I can't say the words that will hurt you
Because your cause is to both of us dear

I want you to stay
Why do you have to go away?
I need you to stay
Let the world right itself today
You know that I'll always be faithful to you
And I want you to know you still hold my heart too
So why do you have to go away? Away
Oh why do you need to leave me again
You're my best friend, my dearest friend
But I won't ask you to stay

As you left you couldn't meet my eyes so you didn't see my tears
You never saw my strength or my hidden fears
Fourteen months is too long for you to be away
Our children have almost grown while you were away
Your letters are all I have so don't you dare stop writing me
Let me know you're safe in London
Send me pins for your dearest lover please
And keep yourself for your ever devoted
But I won't say the words that coudl hurt you
Because the truth is the worst for you to hear

But I want you to stay
Why do you still go away?
I need you to stay
Let the world change itself today
You know that I'll always be faithful you
And our children send all their love now to you
But why must you stay away? Away
Oh why do you need to leave me again?
You're my best friend, my dearest friend
But I can't ask you to stay

Fare thee well, good bloggers

As some of you may know from various other forms of communication, much has been altered in my life of late. Soon I will be made godmother (again) to one of my female cousins. My last day at the worst job I've ever had is fast approaching and so I am filling out many new applications. I am going to Virginia to visit my best friend for a week. And in one more addition to my very busy lifestyle, I am writing NaNo WriMo. For those of you who are not familiar with this, let me explain. The idea is to put aside the month of November and write a few thousand words every day put towards a book that (theoretically anyways) might be finished in one month- hence National Novel Writing Month. It's a great scheme and along with all the other great changes in my life, the weather is changing and I'm making cookies today. Due to all these changes I am taking a sabatical from my much neglected blog. I will write one more post before I give it up for the month but don't expect any fabulous discussions for a while. I'll miss you.

Just a Thought: Questionable Morality in Cartoons

Over the past few weeks I have watched more Disney short films than I think I have watched since... er, well... forgive the pun but since I was short. This means lots and lots of music by the Andrews Sisters and even more Donald Duck. Between the Three Caballeros cast, Chip & Dale vs. Donald, and the Mickey Mouse gang, Donald is easily the most reviewed character. What entertains me even more is that Donald, although not a bad person, is usually the butt of the joke and frequently plays the bad guy. Now I'd be the first to say that slapstick humor would be bereft if it were not... well... slapping people and if it's gotta slap someone I'm all for hitting the duck. I don't much care for ducks... or geese. And let's face it anything that WADDLES like that deserves to be dinner. I'd also like to point out that much of my dislike for geese and ducks is a childhood incident in which I was feeding them bread and they decided to attack me.


Okay, back to my point. I'd like to stress that I don't in point of fact hate Donald. Sure I don't like him all that much but why do we as a theoretically mature society enjoy the pain and suffering of Donald? Sure it's hilarious but don't we teach our kids not to laugh at other people's misery? I mean I could be wrong- I think Home Alone is one of the funniest movies out there and the Marx Brothers should be knighted but I don't understand why it is okay to laugh at Donald's misery. Is it because he's loud and obnoxious. Or is it because he generally acts out in anger over things that shouldn't upset any normal person- like finding chipmunks in his Christmas tree, or being stuffed in a box, or continuously being forgotten in lew of Mickey Mouse. Oh wait, those are all things that would upset me. Maybe it's because he tends to act without patience and poise which are considered immature. Again, I'm struck with how often those characteristics describe me. Now it's just a thought, but maybe we don't like him because we see our own flaws in him? Isn't that the main reason why we don't get along with others; because we are too similar? She's too bossy. He's not very organized. Perhaps if we looked closer we could see the virtue in being similar as well as being different. Yet again, it's just a thought.

Random... random thoughts

It occurred to me recently that the days in which I have something to say are not the days when have time to write (scarce as they may be). When I do have time to write I find I have nothing to say. In short- my time is better occupied of late, therefore I have decided to compile a list of quotes from my journal that I thought would entertain you all. Unless otherwise stated, these quotes are by me. Perhaps I will go back later and add to this little list and give context. ;)

A woman should speak her mind, but first, she should have a mind to speak.

It is nothing to give in; it is hard to fight back.

"Facts are stubborn things." -John Adams, second president of the United States of America

Just because two people are wrong for one another does not mean there is something wrong with them.

"The heart does things for reasons that reason does not know." -Blaise Paschal Pensees

"God can write straight with crooked lines." -Dr. Riordan

True friendship means true honesty- with yourself and with the other person.

Mourning is not for the dead.

The things you cannot change you learn to accept.

"God's ways are not man's ways and you should not assume that you know either." Dr. Williams

"What profit is it to a man if he gains the whole universe but loses his soul?" -Dr Williams

"Don't feel stupid... you are human." -Abigail

"Coincidence is God's way of remaining annoymous"

"All we have to dcide is what to do with the time that is given to us." -Gandalf

Nothing is completely out of your control.

"The most terrifying words in the English language are "I'm from the government and I'm here to help." -Ronald Reagan

"By all means marry. If you get a good wife, you'll be happy. If you get a bad one, you'll become a philosopher... and that is a good thing for any man." -Socrates

"In the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years." -Abraham Lincoln

"Every time I think of you- and I think of you often- I thank God." Corinithians 1:4

"Nyquil ont he rocks... for when you're feelign sick, yet sociable." -Mitch Hedberg

When it coems doenw to it, we all only have three things to offer: a bruised body, a broken heart, and a soul torn by sin. God loves us in spite of this.

I look for a stranger: what I see is a mirror.

Words are moer of a caress than hands ever could be.

We are human... which means were are all naturally stupid.

"Life's tough... it's even tougher if you're stupid." -John Wayne

You should not go to bed five times in one day and still expect to get anything productive done.

Roommates are not reliable alarm clocks.

If one has trouble with something every previous year of college, why should one expect this thing to get easier?

Laughter isn't alwyas the best way to react to a problem.

You are never too tired to unpack your alarm clock.

"There are two types of people in this world- guys who have tattoos and guys who wish they had tattoos." -Kilawachuk

"You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream." -C.S. Lewis

"The role of a teacher is to cause his students pain." -Dr. Raiger

"Every write I know has trouble writing." -Joseph Heller

"Being vain does not necessarily constitute being attractive."

"Not as bad does not equal good."

Things I should be doing

Yes, I am writing a blog post on things I should be doing... namely because I miss writing for my blog... and I don't want to get started on my to do list... *



Organize my closet

Pull out my winter clothes

Put away my summer clothes

Make my bed

Sleep

Take dress up clothes off my bed so that I can make it

Organize my desk

Hang my hats back up

Do my laundry

Clean out my car

Practice music

Look up fun recipes for dinner

Take off my nail polish and trim my nails (possibly repainting them afterwards)

Put in earrings (possibly even put on makeup)

Eat

Finish the two scarves that I started making... three months ago

Plot world domination

Find cat; do not kill; silence

Apply to more jobs

Write another chapter- pick a book; it doesn't really matter at the pace I'm going

Finish reading Dracula

*At least not yet.

Pants

It has come to my attention that there are two kinds of blog posts- serious and non-serious. In my real life as a grown-up I come into contact with many possible "serious" blog posts. In light of this epiphany, I am going to ignore the serious things in my life for today and instead reflect on the things I enjoy most... well, one of the things I enjoy most anyways. I'm not sure what I enjoy the most anymore... probably something between a good sourdough bread, tall heels, and rainy weather, and a good historical fiction book/movie, not necessarily all together or in that order. Anyways, back to the subject at hand: pants.


It has recently come to my attention (again) that it has become increasingly difficult to find/buy good pants. First to define good pants- they should be high enough on the hips so as to cover- er, well, the hips, and low enough so as not to cover the belly-button or inhibit movement. They should be snug enough to not fear losing them and loose enough to not outline one's underwear... or breathing habits. They should be cute enough to not seem like granny pants but not so cute as- never mind. I don't care how trendy they are. I know I'm supposed to be "an adult" but I still love the uber shiney, rhinestone covered, glittery, girly-girly-girly jeans. :) Bell-bottoms are a must (it's hard to wear boots otherwise) and they have to be hem-able without cutting off the aforementioned decoration (apparently I'm short and most of my pants have to be hemmed). They have to go with boots and it is preferable that they have pockets. And the most important factor is that they have to, have to, have to have big pockets. I hate wearing purse/carrying a purse/pawning off a purse on whoever is walking with me; pockets are a much better solution.


On the topic of hips- I have them- big ones. That being said I have a relatively smaller waist... which means that unless I get the ultra low, muffin-top-creating, hiphugger jeans, I have to wear a gigantic belt that bulges out the jeans every which way. I tell you- I just can't win.


Why is it that all "decorative" jeans have writing on the butt now? Honestly, I think my butt is nice enough- that doesn't mean I want to draw attention to it and I certainly don't want flashing, glittery writing that says something like "tasty" or "scrumptious." That just seems more kinds of awkward than I would like to say. My butt is not a sweet confection so stop trying to label it as such!


This brings me to my solution of said problem- guys jeans. They're cute- they fit- they have POCKETS (cue the hallelujah chorus), they don't have things written across the butt, and they don't fall off. Seriously, they only lack the glitter but they still have bell-bottoms so its okay. (Well if I go to the special stores I can still get the glitter on my jeans too.) The only problem with these pants is that they are hidden away in the MEN'S section. This wouldn't be a problem except for a lone cute girl like me, standing around in the men's section, trying desperately to understand this strange way of measuring pants (I mean seriously guys- length AND waist?) is apparently a prime suspect for creepy older men. I attempted to bring my tall, handsome brother with me last time, to ya know, scare off the creepy men. AND IT WOULDA WORKED TOO if he hadn't wandered off after the first passing girl.

Anyways, the entire point of this blogpost was to say that I've figured out why guys are so much more cheerful than most women- they get to wear men's pants.

Fall

One of the many things about this first year out of school that I was most looking forward to was Fall. I've experienced "autumn" in Florida and California in my life and I've been in Texas for Winter, Spring, and Summer (oh, how have I been here during summer) but I have yet to experienc Fall here... so this is big.

The coming of Fall brings many joys to my heart- joys I have never before experienced. Included in this is unpacking my winter clothes (scarves, oh how I have missed thee!!!!), winter goth boots (perfect for trekking through the six inch deep rain), and jackets... of which I only have denim. If you're looking for the perfect gift for me, I could use a warm jacket that isn't denim... or decorated with flowers/school emblems. In addition to this I get the joy of decorative squash, edible pumpkin chocolate chip muffins made from scratch (yes, they're even edible... please note: I didn't make them), and newest of all, apple cider. Apple cider should not dared to be confused with apple juice, sparkling cider, or apple wine. Well, maybe apple wine, but it's not the same thing. Steven attempted to explain the difference between apple cider and everything else but once I tried it I realized that no explanation is possible unless you've had it, in which case no explanation is necessary... sort of like God.

In true Texas kindness, though it has been "Autumn" here fore several weeks, we are still experiencing blustery 90o weather... punctuated by the occasional hurricane watch and flash flood warning. Thanks Texas. Fortunately the weather has been cooling down some and we are into the 80's this week... which of course include more soggy weather, overcast days, and endless humidity. Why did I leave Florida again? Who knows, maybe a cold front is coming just around the corner? Or are we up for some more Florida reenactments? I shall wait it out and see what the rest of this Texas experience shall be.

My Odious Vehicle of Choice

So there has been lots of discussion of late concerning my new car. Don't get me wrong, I encourage people talking about me- I rather like it- but I thought I should spend a few minutes talking about my first few days talking about my new car that has merited more discussion than any of my previous accomplishments of the last few months, which include my graduation from college, my cross country move, and my best friend's marriage. Wow... Gabbielady needs a period... or a semi colon. Anyways, my car.

I got the car two weeks ago- it's a PT Cruiser and it's white. We named it Benny... cause it's small and white... sorta like the Pope. In continuing wtih the Disney tradition he is also named after Benny from the Disney classic, "Who Framed Roger Rabbit?" It's a 2008, so relatively young, has excellent consumer reports, and safety ratings, and has a backseat, which means I can transport small people with relative ease. It also has working windshield wipers, radio, and air conditioning. This makes it three steps up from any car I was looking at/was driving recently. It's an awesome car. It is a safe car. I like my car- it's bordering on obsessive. And it's MINE!!!! I don't have to share it with ANYONE!!!!
By the way, the only part of my car I do not like is the odious detail that some people are of the opinion that it is not safe. I got it blessed (and got soaked in the process, thanks Matt) so stop worrying- if I die I'll go straight to heaven in a small car named for the Pope and with a name like that St. Peter will let me right in. ;)
The license plates arrived today and they're pretty awesome. Anyways, that's my thought and I'm sticking to it. No one else's opinion matters, however this is not to say that I will decline anyone else approving and standing in awe of my car. Like I said, I like my car.

A look into my mind....

So at one point I thought it would be really funny to write a blog post about my random thoughts through out the day. The problem with this is that I am incapable of writing down what I am thinking throughout the course of the day. Therefore... this is the next best thing... what I can remember... and yes, I realize how scant that is. Y'all will have to rough it. This is my day... in thoughts... from when I got up to when I started this blog... with a few minor outtakes.

6.45 am
unnnnhhh... it's still dark out... why am I awake? Oh yeah... Church... and choir... and zzzzz....
6.50 am
dangit. I must get up. I must get dressed. Why didn't I get up earlier? *rush rush rush*
Must get in shower- HELLO IRA! What are you doing... on the floor?... outside my door?... completely asleep? Ah forget it, must get shower so I don't smell like Walmart!
Mmmmm... toothpaste... I love the smell of "not morning breath".
Ah, yeahs, Ira is not asleep there anymore. *rush rush rush*
Why am I always so late Lord? Must get out the door and switch cars and move cars and- HELLO IRA! What are you doing at the top of the stairs? Playing with the cat? Why are you awake, child?
*rush rush rush*
I don't like this car- it's too big. Never volunteering to take anything to the shop EVER again.
*rush rush rush*
Applies makeup in a hurry as I scurry into Church- ten minutes late for choir. Why do I always hit EVERY red light when I'm running late? SORRY GOD!!!!!
Opens door- ah music- crap, every one's staring at me. Good morning, people. Take no notice of the Gabbie lady who isn't really late because it's really all the red lights fault.
We're singing what?
MASS MASS MASS! I love Mass. Why don't I go to Mass more often? Oh yeah, because I like smalls too. And work- no, I don't. I hate work, but that's besides the point. I love my dress. I like wearing dresses..... and tall shoes. I like tall shoes. I don't feel so dang short without them.
MASS!!!
Why is it that Catholics always choose the songs that sound like lullabies for the earliest Mass possible on Sundays? As if I wasn't having ENOUGH trouble staying awake- now the entire choir is singing a song that sounds remarkably like something my Mother used to sing me to sleep with. NARGH!!!!! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UP! Must. Get. Coffee.
Ah Jesus, there You are. I was wondering where you had gotten too. I love You, Lord. I've missed you. Why can't I spend all my time here? Because I have enough trouble holding still for an HOUR!
Ah- the end of Mass. Why didn't I go to practice this week? I'd sound so much better. Then again I wouldn't have had to babysit either. Oh wait, I like babysitting. Nevermind.
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. I need more sleep. Then again, with mornings like this, who needs sleep?
Hiya Mr. Lewis- breakfast? Breakfast. What is this strange concept. Let me think about it... Yes, let's get breakfast... I like breakfast. Mmmmm... breakfast. I should get breakfast more often. Mmmm... coffee. Blech... restaurant coffe is bad coffee. Bad coffee, bad. You should be good coffee. Good coffee. O_O Food. I likes food. I likes food a lot. I should eat more food. I should remember to eat more food.
AGH! Look at the time! I gotta go! Gabbie's gonna be a pumpkin. Gabbie's gonna be a pumpkin. Nargh.
Wait- I don't have time to take the suburban to the mechanic- fudgemonkeys- you NEED the car this morning. *rushes home- "hi kiddos"- rushes to work- in under a half hour* MADE IT!!!!! YEAH ME!!!
I love my car- iz so smooth to drive... and comfortable... and cute.
Dangit- still in Church clothes. What would happen if I walked in wearing this dress and these shoes? None of the guys would get anything done, that's what. And I don't want to mop up drool. ;) JK.
Must hurry, must hurry, must hurry before boss Jose` sees- fudgemonkeys. Ima comin, Ima comin. Dangit.
I'm HERE! What'd I miss? Oh good, nothing exciting.
Mind sucking loop of trying to sell phones, replace phones, exchange phones.
Good-bye my fair Lotus. I love that phone. It is bittersweet as that was the cutest phone ever.
Oh nice lady who took my favorite Lotus, why are you back? Dangit- why aren't you working evil Lotus?
Oh nice tech support Chad from Oklahoma- Spooner, not Oiler. Wouldn't it make more sense to be an Oklahoma Oiler than an Oklahoma Spooner? Dangit- get. mind. out. of. gutter.
Ahhhh... you asked me how I'm doing today? That's so sweet- none of the tech support people EVER ask me how I'm actually doing.... wait- I'm doing not so hot- it's one of those mornings... and I'm late... for... (wait for it)... EVERYTHING!!! *lies through teeth because you seem nice and I don't want to explain* "I'm doing just fine."
Thank you happy people who are nice to me and don't treat me like crap why I deal with technical problems with the phone that you are attempting to purchase. Why does Blackberry require an evil data plan? And why isn't it showing up as a "DATA" plan? Evil. Evil. Vile. Evil.
Ahhhh break time.
Dear Basil and Dorian, although intriguing characters, and I say this with the most affection I can muster, I think you should ignore Henry. He's a poo face.
Go away, boys.
Ah, work, work, work. Why does my station always end up messy when I'm on break? PUT AWAY YOUR OWN DARN BOXES!!!!! Who stole my stapler?
In my blog, I'm gonna have a great comeback for that snarky thing you said, Jose`. I'm gonna say, "I'm not a kissup- if I were a kissup I'd say you were genuinely handsome and a nice guy and everyone knows THAT'S not true."
Here stapler, stapler, stapler.
Where is that darn stapler?
Ooh- paper clip!
LUNCH!!!!!
Hmmmm... no friends at work today... mind bogglingly boring vending machine donuts that I gave the remaining ones from yesterday to Rebecca this morning. Let's go grab some lunch, get far away from people at work, and then read more about Dorian.
Pfft... what a pansy fop.
Ooh- food! I like food. Food is good.
*Drives back to work* Okay, now food and Dorian. DANGIT! They didn't give me a fork!
*Contemplates driving back to restaurant and screaming*
*Contemplates going to break room after buying set of cutlery*
*Decides it's not worth it and sits in car with yummy smelling food and Dorian*
I'm gonna park under a tree because there will be lots of shade and it will feel good later.
Yum, yum, yum.
Yeahs! Man on the moon is alive!
Work, work, work.
Found my stapler. CONQUERING HERO THEME MUSIC!!!!!
Hello nice man- yes, I'd love to help you find the thing you are looking for that happens to be right behind you. Yes, I'd love to discuss with you for a half hour what it is that your grown son might need in a phone? Yes, the blue one will do nicely... yes, I'm saying that just because I like the color. HELLO grown son. Personal space bubble. Personal space bubble. That's my mantra- and you're wearing it out. Ahhhhh... aspbergers. It all makes sense now. The blue one will do nicely.
Break is great. It's the best part of the day. It's the time I spend away from the counter. It's break, break, break.
Ah Dorian... so young... so naive... so... effeminate. Wilde was a strange man. A very strange man. YEAH BASIL!!!!
Go away, boys.
Ahhhh work. Just one more hour. Then I get to go home. I get to go home. Me and Dorian... maybe we'll invite Basil... but we are so excluding Henry.
Cleaning up- sets off Iphone alarm. Again. Everythings' put away- still forty minutes to go.
Lights go "flashy flashy sputter boom" and all the power in the building is out. Someone screams. A few children start crying. Dangit.
What's that smell? Emergency laps have dust. Dust burns. Creates smokey haze.
I'm fifteen again. And being evacuated. Because the entire mountain range is on fire.
I'm okay. I'm okay. You're okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in- bossman give me something to do because I CANNOT do this standing around doing nothing bit anymore.
Ah, taping plastic over all the refrigerators. Fun.
I need tape. I need tape. Just break off a long piece- it will go quicker. Give me a long piece. Come OoOoOn... you're too slow.
That's not what I meant.
Want some tape, guys. I've got it all over me now.
Dangit- I'm supposed to be off. MANAGER!!!! I wanna go home.
Ah that was relatively simple. Do I go home or do I go to a bar? Still freaked out. People are driving crazy- I'm going home.
Why did I park under a tree? I have bird dung on my car now.
I like Benny's coloring.
*half way home* NOOOOO!!!! I left Dorian at work.
Home... home at last... home where people love me.
SHHHHH!
Okay I'm being quiet.
O_O chocolate ice cream is a good substitute for dinner, right? And it's not even booze.
There is room for personal growth.
Okay, ya know, this would be a good time to write a blog.
G'night lovely people.
nnnnn... where does all the time in the day go? I should sleep more.
I wanna watch a Christmas movie... in September... it's not too early, right?

In the interest of entertaining my curiosity...

how many people actually read this blog? I'm just wondering so that I can find out my target audience (i.e. I might rephrain from posting certain things if I find out my Mother, Grandmother, or Godmother reads this blog, etc.) So if you are reading this, and you care to share, please drop me a line so that I am aware of who actually takes the time to find out what I am doing these days.

Funny things said that are hilarious out of context and even more so within context

"They can eat whatever they want as long as it is grapes."


"We're waiting on Jonathan's pants... they're upstairs."


"Stop oggling other peoples babies."


"Could you please check on Joel for me.... I think I scared him."


"What does that mean?" "It means I get to call the *frumpgrumblegrumblegrrrrr* phone company."


"Well at least I'm not the only one who's computer isn't working today!!!!"


"I meant to give you my number earlier but my phone went on sabatical."


"You can't choose that movie- it starts Ben Affleck, therefore it will have no story line. I mean he's cute but how far will that get cha?"


"You need more excitement in your mornings- I recomend goldfish... doing an impression of a killer whale."


And now for CONTEXT...


Susan to her kids about her other kids...


Mary while waiting for Jonathan who couldn't find his pants and was running around the house... while wearing other pants


Me to Susan who was getting all sappy about a particularly cute baby and being unproductive because of it... totally calling the kettle black here


My MOTHER who barely knows my friend Joel... from school... and he's not even in the same time zone as EITHER of us right now.


One of the nice, well meaning customers I talked with today. The second part was by me... apparently I'm funny when things stop working.


My coworker after Sprint's computers were not working either (after our computer wouldn't work either), thus causing a contract that normally takes 6-15 minutes to take an hour.


Me to a friend... context not so funny on this one


One of my customers... who was 6'9"... I asked... to his thirteen-year-old son who was easily eight inches taller than me.


Trying to convince one of my friends that he shouldn't sleep in till noon.


Stay tuned for more random quotes in the life of Gabbie

Things I did not expect that I would need to learn, and other excerpts from my journal

Once upon a time I thought I knew stuff. Please note, that time is not now. As with all fairy tales, reality eventually sets in and you realize that a place where three bears live is not where it would be pleasant to nap, prince or no prince, you shouldn't lose a shoe no matter how late you are, presents from strangers are not good, and that they probably recycled Michael Jackson. It has long been the case that I have not said everything that popped into my head- largely because people find my running commentary tedious and in part due to the fact that no one would ever be able to start laughing. Perhaps this is a bit vain for me to say but it is generally true. At one point in my life I thought I should write a blog with the running commentary of random thoughts that pop into my head in the course of a day. This is the second installment of wisdom from my journal and is dedicated to all those things that I never expected I would have to learn in my adult life.



Things you write in your journal may be erased but are never forgotten.


Dreaming is for sleeping.


"Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved." -Shakespeare


Part of being mature is realizing that you don't always have to be.




You should not create standards so strict that no one can live up to them, especially yourself.




Never lie to a child because they never forget it.




"It is nothing to die. It is frightful not to live." -Jean Valjean, Les Miserables




Attempting to not be silly usually makes you more so.




Never do anything out of anger.


Don't live the present for the future or the past.


If you cannot laugh at a stressful situation, someone else will find it hilarious.


Good-byes are not forever.


The only one who takes joy in human sorrow is he who is never joyful


"Human beings, not human doings." If that makes sense no explanation is necessary, and if it doesn't, no explanation is possible.

Why I moved to Texas

I realize how much this post title could be likened to a third grade report on what I did this summer (which is more truthful than I originally realize) but it is what I was thinking and so it stays. I admit that up until I was ten I had little to no interest in Texas other than it was a place I had never been, but a year later it was the place that I desired to be more than anywhere else. You see, a lot can happen in a year and my entire life changed that particular year. I met my best friend, Bernadette, at a wedding in California. At the time she lived in Michigan but shortly after our first meeting she moved to Texas. In addition to this, my favorite aunt and godmother got married and moved to, you guessed it, Texas. Now this may or may not make sense (as I am fairly certain I rarely make sense in general) but although these were both good reasons to move to Texas in the first place, they were not the reason.

The reason was much simpler/complicated than that. About half a year before either of them moved down South my family visited the corner of Texas closest to California. At this point in my life I hated road trips (usually because without fail I got to sit next to the kid who would vomit five minutes into the five hour drive where there was nowhere to get off, thus once again proving Murphy's Law). This particular road trip proved to be about the same, except when we got wherever it was that we were going, and stopped, it was legitimately cold outside. As I may have previously mentioned, I grew up in Southern California, about ten minutes from Disneyland, Knott's Berry Farm, and the beach. This may explain why the experience of actually being cold, outside, and nowhere near a walk in freezer, stuck with me. To add icing to the cake, it snowed the next morning. I had seen snow a few times in my life but it never stayed long and I had never seen it fall before; I don't think I even knew it could do that. Again, city girl. It was on that enchanted morning, when I was running around with my brothers, trying to gather enough snow to make a snow ball or catch a snowflake on our tongues (and then sitting their in confusion when it melted), I fell in love with Texas. When we left a few hours later I was very sad... and then I threw up. Keep in mind that this was Christmas Eve, and we were staying the night at my Tio John and Tia Leslie's house... in Phoenix... and all our clothes were packed and dirty. Through some act of God my Tia had gotten me clothes for Christmas which I took as a sign that I was not supposed to be miserable and that I would return to Texas someday.

Last summer I kept my promise to myself and moved out here and established residency. And then it hit me- the magnitude of what my moving to Texas would mean- no beach, no mountains, limited family, few tourists, and NO Disneyland!!!! I think it was the last point that had the biggest impact on me. Although I miss my family and laughing at tourists... they both visit me here.... Disneyland does not, but that is another blog post for another time.

Sometime after moving here a well meaning man asked me what were the differences between California and Texas. I was too polite to tell him there but I instantly started making an excel format in my head. For brevity's sake I did not include that list here and instead shortened it.

In California...

...the Mexicans will speak to you in Spanish.

...words are pronounced correctly (I spent a month trying to find "Gwad-a-loop" Street in Austin. Turns out it is spelt "Guadalupe.")

...we have real beaches with real waves.

...the streets have the same name at the beginning, middle, and end and for the most part they all go in a straight line. This brings me to

...the streets are a giant grid so if you miss a turn you go to the next road and make the turn there and then make a left to get back on the road you missed.

...the drivers usually go the speed limit and they usually drive on the road. It is very unusual to see either of these laws broken.

...the street signs are illuminated and big enough for you to see before you pass them.

...there is never three streets with almost identical names within a mile.

...people do not visibly cringe when they hear where you are from if it is not in Texas.

...there is a Disneyland.

...there are wineries.

...it is called a "freeway" cause it is free.

...you do not have to parallel park on your driving test.

...there are the most beautiful sunsets, bar none.

and my absolute favorite... in California we do not have road signs that say to obey the road signs.

After drafting this list it occurred to me that it would be dreadfully unfair to only suggest what Texas is lacking. Therefore I compose the following as well.

In Texas...

...people help each other out without reason and with nothing to gain (last year there was a very nice man who helped me push my broken truck to the side of the road after my breaks stopped working and I could not get it out of traffic. And there was another man this week who helped me get my lawnmower to work after it decided to hate me.)

...people are insulted if you do not ask them for help when you need it.

...it is not common sport to pick on the tourists.

...everyone is very welcoming.

...they have this great invention called "tex-mex"

...there are wide open spaces without people outside of the desert and you can see the sunrise uninhibited by buildings.

...they sell sushi in the supermarket.

...they have wildflowers EVERYWHERE!!!!

...I can wear my cowboy boots without looking weird.

...they have the most beautiful blue skies (except when it is raining, but hey, then it's raining!!!)

...they have seasons.

...there are three Catholic Churches within fifteen minutes of my house and not one of them has an impossible to spell/pronounce name.

...rain is not considered severe weather conditions.

...(this one is from Bronwyn) they have cowboys.

...you cannot kill an opossum (okay, I'm not thrilled about that one).

And my favorite part about Texas... Texans have cute little accents.

Although I strongly suspect Texans have such bad roadsigns so you have to stop and talk to them, and get sucked into their way of life, I admit the place is growing on me. Someday I might get used to the fact that the street names change four times in a seven minute drive, and the my neighbor gets offended if I do not ask her for help, and that everywhere I go there seems to be a strange white pickup that is always helping me out. Ah well, I'm willing to chalk that last one up to divine intervention... cause ya know, God blessed Texas. ;)

Talking to the cheshire cat, blue shoes, and following the yellow brick road

Since I actually started this blog much later than I actually wrote the first post, I feel it slightly necessary to update the world on what I've been doing. On May 8th I graduated from college. On May 10th I traveled back to California to see my parents and to celebrate, among other things, their youngest two children being confirmed, their next youngest son graduating from High School, their second oldest son being halfway through college, their two eldest graduating from college, their eldest son bringing home his girlfriend for the first time ever, and their 25th wedding anniversary. Needless to say, this was very exciting. Privately I celebrated nine months without major ER incidents involving my mother and a very scary time in our lives when she had two strokes within two weeks last August and September.


After the celebrating ended I got in a pickup filled with everything I owned (minus a few books) and went on a road trip across Southern California, Arizona, New Mexico, and the greater part of Texas before winding up in Austin again. Accompanying me on this road trip (or perhaps escorting me out of the state for their own sanity) were the Bosslady (my Mama), my eldest brother, and his girlfriend. This made for many bad jokes and long, long awkward moments. I arrived in Austin on a Wednesday. When we crossed into Texas highway patrol checked our car (I suspect for any invading Mexicans. Little did they know that there were two in the front seat, i.e. my brother and my self, but apparently we don't look it. Blue eyes and rosy cheeks will do that to ya.) The nice patrol man asked us how long we were staying in Texas and what was in the back of the truck. My clever bosslady informed him that we would be there a week or so (which was true of everyone else in the car, neglecting the fact that I was moving to Austin) and that the back of the pickup was entirely filled with clothes. He narrowed his eyes and said, "the back is entirely filled with clothes?" My bosslady didn't say anything by way of explanation but hooked her thumb back and pointed to me. He turned to look at me and laughed; apparently I look like a girl who would have enough clothes to fill up a pickup for a one week trip.

The following Friday I was in a dress rehearsal for my nearesbest friend's wedding (hey that would make a great movie title.) Saturday I went to her older brother's Ordination to the priesthood. This event can only be described as "oodles and oodles of fun" from the very back of the Church where I watched while chasing around two small children, neither of whom were too keen on the idea of holding still except when they fell asleep- one in my arms and the other in the Bosslady's.

Sunday was the wedding day, dawning bright and beautiful. Several exciting things happened that morning (which I will forever be trying to forget so that I may not be disillusioned if/when I get married someday) and can only be summed up with the word "chaos." At the wedding itself (where I knew almost no one, excepting the bride, the groom, and their immediate family members) I started talking to the groom's best friend who boasted that he knew even fewer people than myself. I admit upon first meeting him at the dress rehearsal (two days before) the only thing I could think was "blue shoes... hmmm." After that I tried my best to talk to him again and eventually I managed to find something of interest to say. I'm afraid what I came up with wasn't that entertaining, but he didn't seem to mind. For the first time in my life I was greatful for all the times I have been to the emergency room because apparently they knew him by first name there too. Shortly after that, after the groom's best friend disapeared for a minute, a very drunken relative of the bride began to hit on one of the other bridesmaids and myself. At this point I decided it best to drive home rather than pick on the poor drunken cousin (I'm not a very nice person when I'm annoyed).

My drive home was punctuated by the excitement that I realized I was almost out gas, alone, on a back country road in Texas, wearing heels that did not fit, and a floor length bridemaid gown. I don't think I even had a scrunchi to tie my hair up with. So like any independent minded, problem solving, truck driving, feminist would, I called my uncle. He managed to reassure me that there was enough gas in the truck to get home and that if I didn't, I was close enough by then that he would come get me and rescue me. Ladies and gentlemen, be ye ever so humble, or ever so bold, you wil never surpass my affection for this man at that precise moment. I made it, btw.

The next morning, bright and early, my Mother headed back to California (and I haven't seen her since) but before she left she took a little piece of my heart and left me a large chunk of my sanity. With a deep breath of fresh air after my month of travel and excitement I decided that the best use of my newfound freedom would be to go back to bed; no one disagreed. And that, dear children, was the beginning of my permanent life in Texas.

I do not know what God was thinking but I intended to spend my first few months in Texas getting used to Texas with the comfort and aid of my family. This was complicated by the fact that they all jumped ship and left for Ukraine five weeks ago. Upon their arrival I will live with my godmother, her lovely husband, my favorite uncle, Jim, the cat, and their beautiful five children, three of whom I will meet for the first time on Monday. I would expand on that except that's a story for another blog. ;)

Since living here I have spent five weeks living with the cat- Jim. For a while he was my only companion and so I had many a conversation with him. What is worse is after I while I began to understand what his various cat responses meant. A long meow is that he wants me to stop whatever it is I'm doing that is bothering him. A pat on the arm mean she wants to be petted. A pat on the leg means he wants to be held. Rubbing up against my computer means he wants me to get off my computer. A short yowl means he wants to know if anyone is there. I called out to him yesterday after that and someone was over and he told me I was nuts. I am perfectly aware of this btw so it is unnecessary to tell me this. I ALREADY KNOW!!!!!!!! Sometimes I feel like Alice and that I've wandered into Wonderland but the frightful thing is- I'm not convinced that Texas is not Wonderland... where are those dodobirds? Oh yes- the Aggies.

Now that I've explained the cheshire cat and the blue shoes I think it's time to explain the yellow brick road before I forget. My grandfather once told me that he believed all Catholics were marching. We were all marching towards the kingdom of heaven. Some carried others and some lead others. Some fell away and died and new ones were brought in, but we were all marching. I feel that on this march towards God I was lead here. I'm trying to follow this grace filled path that I dare to call a road because I know others have gone before me. It may not be yellow because I've never actually dared to look back, but I do believe I'm following it- and He wants me here right now.

The bee

I have always considered myself a person inclined towards nature. Now, I don't know how much a girl who grew up in the suburbs of LA (and was in double digits before she realized there were places in the world where people didn't have house next to house next to house outside of the ocean) could ever really be a nature person. Then again, I did grow up with my nose constantly stuck in books (and if there is anything my parents did right, it was supplying us with vast numbers of books) from Tell Me Why to National Geographic. I bemoaned (loudly) the loss of our enormous trees that my Mother had removed to keep the wildlife from having a place to hide in our yard. I was the first one to stick my nose in my Mother's rosebushes and discover that a spider would climb on me. I wasn't the first one to cry for hours because I didn't get to see the mouse that was killed in the mousetrap, but you now understand the kind of house I grew up in.

I remember well being about eight-years-old when a lizard was sunbathing in the crack of our window and mother picked him up thinking he was a toy (that was the other thing we had in excess). My Father came rushing in to be her hero and every kid in the house was at his side to, uh, er, help him catch it. Eventually, despite our best efforts to aid him, he managed to catch it and we were all given the opportunity to see what he had in the box. He was, in short, beautiful. Granted I'm sure my reaction was less vocal at that age. I think that this was the inspiration I needed for my later in life adventures. My Mother was against wildlife living within the confines of her house but wanted us to know all about what we were missing.

The first time we went up to the Sierra Nevadas I was in awe of the beauty surrounding me and the next time we went up we took our Golden Retriever and I took him on long lazy walks through the trees and backways. It, by far, is my favorite place in the world and if I miss nothing else about California, I miss the mountains. This inspired my frequent use of walking whenever I was stressed, a habit I keep to today. There is nothing better than a long walk to put life in perspective. When I was a teenager I used to wake up at 5 in the morning to go on long walks with my dog. I still think this is the best part of the day because the day was perfect and no one had a chance to touch it yet... just me. No one had ruined it and no one had decided what it would be. The best way to start a day was to go walking and clear my head. The best mornings were when it rained and there was dew on everything; it was like the entire world had taken a bath and I was the first to see it clean.

The first year I went to college the best day of the school year was when a baby gecko (about the size of a quarter in length) hid in our room and I rescued him from my roommate who was going to kill him for touching her Dr. Pepper. I caught him (my first catch EVER!) and dragged him all over campus showing him to everyone who wanted to see him and watching the reactions of everyone who didn't. Ah, it was a good day- except for the minor detail that I was forever branded as "she who catches things." I admit there are worse ways of establishing popularity, and every time something got in that shouldn't be, I got a frantic phone call and got to play hooky from my homework to go rescue some damsel, but I found it entertaining to say the least, that I, Miss wouldn't know real nature if it smacked her in the face, was everyone's "go-to-girl."

I was even more the reckless heroine the next year when I caught a snake that some girls were playing with which turned out to be a pygmy rattlesnake. He was as lovely as the gecko and far more interesting because of his lack of appendages and his decided affection towards me, embracing me with his body wrapped around my wrist and forearm. I could tell, he really liked me. One of the freshmen wanted to hold him, and I let him and for some strange reason I was surprised when my beautiful snake opened his mouth and tried to bite him... with his fangs. It was at this point that I did a face-palm and started looking for my Biology major roommate to figure out what he was. She took one look at him, pulled out her book of local wildlife, diagnosed him the tragic fate of being a pygmy rattler (and a baby at that, which are more dangerous because they have not learned to control their poison), and called security. Security gave me the horrible news that he would have to be killed and promised to make it quick. I cried (and I rarely cried after my first six weeks of college) and promised my mother I would never play with a snake again without knowing what kind it was.

Now that I live in Texas where the roaches are big enough to carry your luggage I find I am a bit more hesitant to play with the bugs that I don't recognize, but I'm still the one who catches lizards and takes them outside so they'll survive. I ran out of the house with my camera to take a picture of a beautiful flying beatle with a notchy, horn head and long elegant legs. I still stop whatever I'm doing to watch the birds and squirrels outside on the fence. I even have a garden now complete with wild opposums who eat my berries (I named the mama oppossum Henry before I realized she was a girl).
In short, I am a nature girl and love all things outdoors. I go out of my way to keep things alive that Darwin's theory should've claimed long ago and I still cry whenever I see a wounded bird. I put out food for the feral cat and I will slow down every time there is a "warning, animals frequent this road" sign. Oh yes, I am a nature girl- so I want you to completely understand how I felt when I was stung by a bee yesterday (first time ever) and was happy that the little bugger died after he fell to the ground and my lawnmower ran over him. Oh yes, I am a nature girl.

A rite of passage

This week my baby sister celebrated her Quincetta (pronounced kin-son-nyet-uh). This is a big deal to us Mexi-mutts but considering how many people this week asked me if that meant she was sixteen I feel I should elaborate.



It is often a discussion I have that evolves slowly but surely into an argument with various women I know that a Quincetta is just a Mexican sweet sixteen and should be considered as much. Out of curiosity when writing this article I looked up Quincetta in wikipedia and the closest thing I found was the word "quintet". (I think I might have to do something about this later.) I am surprised how many people have strong feelings about a ritual that is not contained within their culture. I fail to see why it matters to anyone who never had a quincetta or knew anyone who did? Then again, perhaps I miss the obvious.


I am proud to say that when I was younger I had my Quincetta and someday, God willing, my daughters will too, but now I know I am getting ahead of myself as I'm sure most of you are not familiar with this term. A Quincetta is a Mexican ritual in which a girl upon her fifteenth birthday (or as soon afterwards as can be managed) reaffirms her vows of baptism, within a Mass, dedicates her life to Mary, and is for the first time considered an adult. Rather than being an anglo Sweet Sixteen party (aside from being too early) it would probably be more closely related to a Jewish Bar Mitzvah, except only girls have them. It is very beautiful and, I think, very important for young girls to celebrate though I don't always agree with what it has evolved into.


To put it in perspective, when I turned fifteen I had a very simple Mass, wore a very simple dress, and rededicated myself to God and to Mary. I remember it very well. I did not have the pomp that is normally associated with Quincetta's now, but that's because simplicity is what I wanted. That being said, I have no problem with other people having the pomp and expense that is generally encouraged with such things. My cousins had that kind of Quincetta and I enjoyed them very much.

To be fair there are some bad things to be said about Quincettas and it would be unfair of me to ignore those critiques. My parents had a friend who also happened to be a priest in Los Angeles who claimed that most girls who had Quincettas, did not have big weddings. I think this is entirely due to the fact that most modern day Quincettas cost as much as the average wedding. However, this is not necessarily true. My cousin Sulema (told you I was Mexican), had a big Quincetta when she was fifteen and had a wedding when she got married. It must also be noted though that her wedding was no as extravagant as her Quincetta.

A man recently asked me how Mexican you have to be in order to have Quincetta. I'm not sure if he was questioning the fact that I am only half Mexican. I cannot claim to be an expert on such things but the answer I gave him was that it is a matter of culture. If you are raised with it then it seems only natural to have one. If you are not familiar with them then I would argue that you have no right to dissaprove.

How did I end up here?

It's not where you are going but how you get there. I can say this, coming from a long line of restless spirits who were either gifted or plagued by the wanderlust. My father's father was born in Mexico and though the only son of a wealthy politician, he decided he much prefered the life of a wanderer to ever staying in one place. This wandering spirit caused him to jump countries at least twenty times illegally, causing him to be sent home via La Migra. My father was the result of my grandfather's marriage to a lovely woman, Consuelo, whom he got along with the best when they were not in the same country, let alone the same house. They were from different backgrounds, her being a poor butcher's daughter living in a tiny town whose only attraction was a local Church, blessed with the shrine of Our Lady of San Juan de los Lagos.

My Aubuelo's wandering spirit was halted when he was in an automobile accident in Los Angeles County. As soon as she was able my Aubelita arranged to travel to his side in California, along with her three small children. My Father says that he remembers the journey well because he was squished into a bus seat with his mother, his brother, and his sister when a kindly duo of American sailors decided to have him sit with them. He talked with them all the way North; they, knowing not a word of Spanish and he, knowing no English.

After nursing her husband back to health, my grandparents decided to stay in Los Angeles and they worked as migrant workers, putting their youngest son, my father through seminary. The year he was supposed to take vows to be a transitional deacon (a requirement before becoming a diocesan Catholic priest) he decided to take a year off from seminary to make sure he was being called to that life, after all, he'd been in seminary for ten years by that point, starting as a teenager. Lucky for me, he decided it was not his true calling and shortly after that year of discernment ended he was working at a Catholic camp for handicapped children when my very mexican father met another camp counselor. My father claims that he does not believe in love at first sight but he and she got to talking... and talking... and talking... and talked right through dinner. Sr. Christine, whom I am forever indebted to, reccomended that he take her out for dinner... on a date.

About half a century before this meeting there was another family gifted with the wanderlust. By the time the great depression hit America my great grandfather had made and lost a fortune five times. Being German by birth, with a German accent, and a German name, and the post war United States being of a particular mindset that did not favor Germans, he decided to move his family out west shortly after the birth of his youngest daughter. On her birth certificate he and his wife gave her the name of Baby Laubach and eventually called her Marilyn. Once in California they opened a bakery, specializing in donuts and other baked goods made daily. They also had a bakery route, driving around in the wee hours of the morning delivering fresh baked goods. My grandmother used to tell me that they delivered to such estimable people as Walter and Cordelia Knott and Walt Disney but that the highlight of her morning was when he father let her eat the broken cookies.

Later my grandmother Marilyn married and moved to Las Vegas... before it was Las Vegas. I never met my grandfather but from what I can tell, they were happy together. My Mother says she prayed as a little girl that her life would never be boring, and sadly, she got her wish. A tragedy ended their lives together with his death after eleven years of marriage; my mother was ten and had three younger brothers. From there they moved all over the country for four years and then settled down back in California where my mother's grandparents were. There my grandmother remarried the most wonderful man and his four children and together they had two more children, causing my mother's family to be referred to as the Brady Bunch plus some. This also explained the twenty-year age difference between my mother and my youngest aunt.

My mother eventually went to college and afterwards decided to become a nun. She was living in a convent, though not yet a postulant (the first step towards becoming a nun) when shewas encouraged to work at the camp for handicapped kids. There she met my Father who quickly changed her mind. After they were married and within their first year of marriage they lost my father's father, their first daughter, and had the doctor who delivered my first sister tell my mother that she would never have a baby she could keep. It was a very difficult first year together but they stayed together and eventually had four wonderful children and one spectacular one, along with "adopting" at least five more wonderful ones.

All these wandering spirits being noted it should be no surprise whatsoever that I ended up leaving California as soon as I graduated from college. I say it is how you get there, not where you are going that matters. That being said it is equally as important to know where you come from. My Mother always says that I was the first daughter she got to keep and only the second of her children. I like to think this means I defied some kind of curse, but then again, I do have a younger sister, so maybe not. My Father always told us that because we were raised in both the Mexican culture as well as our Mother's German and American heritage we had been given the best of both worlds. It took me a long time to realize that this was not limited to celebrating Saint Nicholas's Day, Christmas, and Epiphany as equally important, gift giving days. Sometimes I wonder how I ended up here, but perhaps the more accurate title of this blog would be "How I ended up here." This is my background- I pray it gives some explanation as to why I am the person that I am.

Hellen: A place to start

A month and a half ago I graduated with my first degree. I say my first because my mother keeps on saying this because she believes I am not done with school yet. I am not yet in a position to disagree with this statement so I must defer to her wisdom as, unlike me, I suspect she might have acquired some. My graduation from college has catapulted me into the final transition from child to adult. My recent move to Texas has severed the last of the apron strings and though I don't count myself "on my own" yet, I do feel I am at last superglued into the world of the adults.
At the ripe old age of twenty-one I feel that I have very little wisdom to share with the world that would truly benefit anyone. That being said, I do believe that it is those that are not heard enough that have the most important thing to say. In my, albeit, short life, I have learned many things: among the most important I have learned that perspective is invaulable, given enough time you will regret whatever you do or not do, it's not where you're going but what you do to get there, humans desire love, acceptance, and companionship, in that order, there is no price tag on truly perfect moments, God is unwaveringly with us through it all- whether I want Him to be or not, and that no ammount of channel surfing will make the Patriots win the Super bowl.

When my Mother was a little girl she prayed that God would make her life interesting because she never wanted to be bored. I remember her telling me this as a small child after one of my many visits to the Emergency Room. In my folly, I prayed for the same thing because there is nothing worse than being bored at the age of four. I do not know whether I was wise or unwise then but I do recall that Hellen Keller once said that "Life is either one grand adventure, or nothing." Well, my life has been an adventure thus far... here's hoping nothing changes.