Public Notice

It has come to my attention (again) that people don't know what to do with me.  I've lived in Texas for almost two years now (yay!) and during that time I have lived with my aunt and uncle (double yay!).  Now to clear up some of the misconceptions that seem to be circulating AT CHURCH of all places.
That's right, people I am not a secret daughter from my uncle's fictional previous marriage, or a lovechild of the 80's.  I am not my uncle's second wife (as a nice gentleman in Fort Stockton found out), and, more importantly, I am not LDS, LSD, Muslim, or Mormon.  I am not my uncle or my aunt's younger sister (okay, perhaps that one is reasonable.  If Tia had been born earlier in the lineup of the ten children family she comes from, I very well might have been.  And my uncle has siblings younger than I am... five of them actually, but I digress.)
As one unlucky church lady found out this morning, I am not the mother of my three Ukrainian children and I did not move in with my aunt and uncle so that they could have a stable influence in their lives (yes, because I'm so wild!)  I'm twenty-three.  I have a bachelor's degree.  I am finishing up a Texas Teaching Certificate that I may or may not use.  I do not have a boyfriend, fiance, or husband, and to the best of my knowledge I am not prepping to enter a convent.  I do not have any children, biological, adopted, or surrogate.  I frequently take five of my younger cousins, age 10, 8, 7, 6, and 4 to Mass with me.  When they are not with me they are with both their parents, not their long absent father.  It would be impossible for me to be the mother of the first two and illegal for me to be the mother of the next one.  I suppose in all technicality I could have given birth to the youngest two but the likelihood of me have a four-year-old or a six-year-old is somewhere between "a snowballs chance in hell" and my cat spontaneously combusting into a chartreuse cashmere, life-size model of Yankee Stadium.  In other words- no.
I love the kids all greatly and they are mine... but in the "I love you because you are my family" way, not that "I love you because I went through labor with you" way.  For the record, their mother did not go through the conventional labor with the youngest three either... she went through a different kind of labor.  I sometimes spoil them (okay, I usually spoil them) and occasionally they misbehave but that's because they are kids... and not because I am an ill-fit teenage mother (well I would be a bad parent right now but that's more because I'm not married than my alleged drug addiction and rampant party ways.)
There now, I just have to post this in the Church bulletin... and wear it on my persons at all times and THEN maybe people might stop guessing during Mass.  Gosh, Father really needs to spice up his sermons...
Sincerely,
The Gabbie Lady

I didn't give Santa cookies

Why do we give Santa milk and cookies?  I realize that most children love these things (and therefore would understand the joy of sharing one of their favorite things) but really?  Who ever thought it was such a hot idea to stuff an already overweight, elderly, white male who is riding around the world, directing a sleigh pulled by reindeer with MORE sugar?  More than likely the sugar will either a) push him into diabetic shock, or b) induce a sugar coma, or c) put him to sleep which might be a danger given that he's FLYING.  (I'm personally rooting for the sugar coma myself.)  Instead here are some alternative suggestions of what people should leave for Santa that he might enjoy more.  

1.)  Cheese.  It's healthy, it has protein, and according to one commercial, it gets you better loot than any stinkin cookies.  

2.)  Carrots.  He should be on a diet anyways and even if he doesn't like them, I'm sure Rudolph and the other reindeer will, and that's gotta go somewhere with him.  

3.)  Monster energy drink.  They guy has been cramming for this trip for months and then is up for a solid twenty-four hours delivering all the presents and goodies.  I'm sure anyone in that situation needs something to keep him awake.  

4.)  Pesto.  It's not just for the Italians and quite honestly it's good on anything, including (but not limited to) a spoon.  If someone served me pesto I'm sure I'd come back over and over again... even just to look for scraps.  

5.)  Chocolate.  Okay maybe that's not the best idea given that we nixed the cookies because of the sugar but really- it's a comfort food and if nothing else I'm sure Santa could bring it back to Mrs. Claus in order to get back into her good graces, so really, this is in his best interest.  

6.)  Heating pad.  It's cold in that sleigh... it's cold everywhere tonight.  I might even consider leaving Santa a heating blanket, space heater, and thermal underwear, just to be on the safe side.  That's all we need but to have to call the fire department because Deyet Norose (Russian Santa Claus) froze to our chimney.  

7.)  A nice cold beer.  Taken directly from a Calvin and Hobbes comic book.  Given his body mass I'm sure old Saint Nick is not a light weight but just the same I'd encourage leaving a note that encourage him to wait until he is safely in his own home before enjoying his cold beverage of choice.  

8.)  BLT sandwich.  Admit it, after a long journey a real meal (not just dessert) is really helpful to keep you moving and I'm sure Santa feels the same way.  

9.)  Coffee.  See number 3.  Same concept- fewer cavities.  Actually, given how long he's been up, perhaps an espresso machine would be more in order.  

10.)  Jim.  Okay, maybe he wouldn't want my cat but I would sure love to give Santa Clause my cat- I'd even be willing to bribe him to do it.  

11.)  Vacuum Cleaner.  You know, to clean up all the ashy footprints he tracks everywhere.  

12.)  I actually don't remember what I was going to put here, and since it is late I think I'll just post this, and when I remember (because I always do) I'll post it in comments.  Merry Christmas to all... and Feliz Navidad to everyone else.  God bless and peace be your footprints.  

A million pairs of flip flops

We try to encourage a sense of thankfulness in this household.  In order to make it fun and more tactile we put them on colored post its that change shape with the season.  For spring we had flowers and butterflies.  For summer we had Suns and for Autumn we have apples.  I just found an old sheet of gratitude's or blessings and thought I'd share them because they make me happy.  I'll include the age of the kids who added them.


1) A love of history
2) Coffee
3) Ancient Egypt -8
4) Fun books -8
5) For my Calvin and Hobbes book which I am reading right now -4
6) Cars II -7
7) Star Wars Wii -5

8) Sleep-10 Oh yes, she's growing.  
9) Big cars
10) Notebooks and paper
11) Finn McMissile -8
12) Cars 1 -4.  We like Pixar movies here.  
13) Letters from my goddaddy -7.  Unfortunately for 7, his godparents live just close enough that we can visit them but just far enough that it is infrequent.  He lives for those letters and enjoys them greatly, showing them off to EVERYONE for a week.  
14) My pink water bottle -5
15) Little play school kits -10
16) Traffic and the patience it provides
17) My godbabies
18) For Rose -8
19) For my big Pinky -4  She has two pink bunnies- the bigger is called "Big Pinky" and the smaller is called "Little Pinky".
20) The three butterflies -7 At the time we were raising five chrysalis from caterpillars to butterfly and when we had left that morning there were still only three butterflies who had emerged.  We returned home a few hours later to find the last two coming out.  
21) Air conditioning and fans -7
22) For my favorite color- pink- 5
23) Whipped Cream- 10 She had just snitched it from my coffee.
24) Tender compassions of our God
25) For little boys
26) All museums that I have been to -8
27) The great play museum -4 Cause, ya know, we got to play there.
28) For tractors and Texas- 7.  I love little boys
29) Coming to live with Gabbie, Boo, Mama, Papa, and Bear. -5.  I would just like to point out that in this lineup, *I* came first.
30) "Our" Ukrainian Treasures. -10.  This was a running joke because we went to an exhibit on Ukraine entitled "Ukrainian Treasures".  
31) Purple semis and orange butterflies and pink roses.  All things that remind us that God loves us.  
32) A million pairs of flip-flops, some of which match.
33) Disney and my family. -8.  The order of this one amuses me.  
34) Animal and Princesses and presents- peace on earth. -4.  She is attempting to steal this from the Muppet Family Christmas
35) The letter "S" -7 This gratitude brought to you by Sesame Street.
36) for purple roses. -5
37) Weird cheeses. -10
38) Sage brush and chapparal.  I have no clue what that last word is.  
39)Cute Catholic Boys.  I would just like to point out that though this one is by me; it is a running joke.  I still think it's funny.  
40) Daddy and everything he does for us. -8 says the little boy who didn't have to help make dinner because Papa made it before we got home.
41) For all my owies.  -4.  For a child who is constantly plagued with scratches she has an unusual fondness for them.  
42) Toy Story characters -7
43) Jack, Bennie, and Aurora.  -5.  These are the names of our cars.
44) Archaeologists -10
45) Cellphones

Thoughts from the driver's seat

* I generally drive with small children in my car.  It's one of the reasons I love my car but it also inspires me to frequently question what the rest of the world is thinking.  I try my best to shield my chargers from harm- both physical, spiritual, and mental.  These are some of the things that have come to mind while I have been driving. *

Joggers, cyclists, and anyone who is in public sight should consider the following.  There are aesthetic as well as moral reasons to cover up.  I wish I had mind bleach so I could forget seeing what people insist on sharing.  

I hold grudges while driving- if you turtle back, break check, cut me off, road rage, or shove me over, I will attempt to think the best of you, praying that you are

a) rushing to your dying father's side.

b) your wife is in labor in the backseat... with triplets

c) your child is dying and you need to rush him to  the hospital

I will pray for you as best I can but keep in mind I will never like, support, or respect any of the kitchy bumper-stickers I see on your car.

Ambulances, rain, and ramps are a reason to slow down- not pass me on the shoulder at high speeds.  

If I recognize you as you do something to endanger my chargers or my car, expect to hear about it later.  If I meet you later you had better pray that I am not interviewing you for a job, house, or interview- it will not turn out in your favor as I remember faces and license plates very well when I'm angry.  

Speed limits are not a suggestion.  Neither are turn signals.  

I will laugh if you are pulled over by the cops because of speeding, driving recklessly, or you just failed to get off your phone long enough to realize you are being dangerous... and stupid... stupidly dangerous... dangerously stupid.  

I realize my car is not as big as most on the road in Texas where the most popular vehicle is a double cab, double wide, pickup, but just because I'm small does not make me invisible and if you get too close I will lay on the horn.  

If you have something emblazoned on your car and you wouldn't want your mother, your pastor, or God to read/see it, please don't.  There are a great many things I would prefer not to explain to small children in this lifetime.  

If I pass you while I'm driving, please don't take it as a personal affront on your driving- I'm probably trying to admire your sweet car from my rear view mirror.  

If you are in a car, stay on the road.  If you are not in a car, stay off the road.  

Sometimes everyone slowing down would induce you to believe that you should as well.  

I love Texas weather and the scenery in Austin; please don't ruin it for me by going crazy.  

Life isn't a video game and wild weather is not a boost to the next level.  Please be careful- I drive with small children.  

You may be ready to die, but I'm not- see previous thought bubble.  

If you are going twenty miles under the speed limit and there is not traffic, expect people to pass you and do not be offended.  You may only take offense if we fire snowballs and/or water pistols at you.  

Wildlife on the road require caution, not blaring of horns or speeding up.  The same finesse should be observed with accident scenes.  

If the sign says it, please do it.  They write the instructions down so that you can understand and be one with traffic rather than be one with the highway.  

You just can't make this stuff up

For anyone in need of a laugh... consider my week...

1.) Jonathan asked me the other day, "Which is older- God, Papa, or nothing?"
Of course I answered, "God."
He snickered and replied, "No, the answer is nothing- cause nothing is older than God."

2.) My goddaughter Maria, who claims to have attained seven years of age, tried to feed her fish chocolate today.  Fortunately my Father and her Mother attempted a rescue mission but failed as one (or both) of them dropped the fish down the garbage disposal.  He was later rescued via a spoon and my father's fingers, while my Mother, my Uncle, and at least one of my brothers watched on helplessly, holding their sides with laughter.

3.) Thoughts on Thanksgiving and the mass production and encouraged obesity of turkeys for the sole purpose of eating them.  Anything that says, "gobble, gobble, gobble" deserves to be eaten.

4.) My other goddaughter- Irene- tried to wear my three inch heal, goth boots up the stairs.  When I caught her she said, "Look!  I'm Gabbie!  Howdy, howdy, howdy!"

5.) When attempting to diet one should always consider listening to the post mortem, embalming techniques as described by the four-year-old.  (btw- I'm not sure if it's spelled "mortem" or "mortum" or any other way because spell check continuously corrects it to be "moron.")

6.) When walking into the movie theatre to see the new Muppet movie, I lost two little girls who were too busy pointing out that there is a poster of Darth Maul, and screaming, "IT'S GABBIE!!!!"

7.) I am currently stalled on my last two scarves because the cat decided to get entangled in them some time in the last twenty four hours... Maybe I should just stuff Jim and give him to the kids instead of making them scarves?

8.) And if you still need a laugh... just consider the new Twilight movie, resting assured that a new book spoiler will be out soon. :)

Why there are Editors in the World

*Ahem.

A letter composed by Four to her Godmother (who has not seen her in a little over a year)

as typed verbatim by the Gabbie Lady.

Dear Godmommy Cat,
I love you.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you. 
Dear Godmommy,
Dear godmommy,
dear Godmommy,
That’s it.
Nothing else.
Buh-bye.
 Mmm-hmmm. "

(There were interspersed giggles and snickers as well but I didn't write those down as I did not think they were important and therefore didn't write them down.)

October

I don't do things by halves.  When I am happy I am deliriously, uncontrollably, completely happy.  When I am angry I can do nothing but grouch around the house.  When I am excited I dance around, singing, and bouncing, barely able to contain my joy.  When I am sad I don't talk to anyone.  October was a bad month here in Texas.  Some of the things were big like my best friend getting in an accident that totaled her car (everyone was okay and walked away from the accident... except for her eight month old who could not even crawl at the time) and some were little such as finding a gallon of near exploding, rotten milk in the back of my car (I had to spear it so it wouldn't explode- after I relocated it to the grass... far from my car.  It exploded still).  I could go on and on about how very EXCITING last month was but I'm not sure I could make it funny so I'm not going to try.

In college I was in a few bands, one of which was made up entirely of indecisive women.  The week before a band competition we were trying desperately to come up with a band name and after several days of really STUPID suggestion I screamed in frustration, "Just come up with SOMETHING SERIOUS!"  It stuck and forever afterwards that was our name.  It was cheesy- we were in college- don't judge.  The irony was that we never performed anything serious.  We did a rendition of Dance with me Daddy that made everyone want a hug, and round of I Need A Hero that made every roll over laughing, and a song that we wrote called Set Me as a Seal (cause everyone needs a stereotypical love song) but we were far from "serious".  The real irony that since my band disbanded (pun intended) I've been far more serious.  I don't really share my emotions when they are the hardest to deal with and most of the worst parts of my life I don't talk about until years later.  My silence this last month is the only way I can express how very hard it was and how scared I was.  For the first time since I was five I cried in public and for the first time since I was eighteen I left a message on my brother's phone that was incoherent because I was so close to tears.  I felt guilty having a birthday and I even missed Wilfred Owen's death day too!  (For those that don't know- I LOVE Wilfred Owen... bordering on obsession) I won't show anyone what I wrote the week after we lost Jon but I will try to explain what I was going through.

Grief
You wake up screaming
When there is not a sound
And you think someone’s grabbed you
When there’s no one around
It is the echoing silence
That’s so loud you cannot think
And you are scared to miss
What might happen if you blink
When you can talk to strangers
But not your best friends
And you keep hoping you’ll wake up
But this hell never ends
You feel guilty when you laugh
Because it means you’re still alive
And you wonder what he would have done better
If he hadn’t died.

Lies I have told my children

...and you should too.  There is much to be said for magic in real life.  I'm not talking about Wickans or Disney.  Rather I am discussing the magic of childhood which can only be sustained by parental units... or parental units in training such as me.  Trust me when I say that these "lies" will help you through your day.

1) Any muffins I feed you will be whatever flavor you want them to be by virtue of them being Gabbie muffins being served by Gabbie.  If you ask me if they are plum muffins and I ask if you like plums and you answer "yes", then they will magically be plum muffins.  The same will be applied to cookies, cakes, cereals, sandwiches, etc.

2) Magic stuffed animals will be distributed at bedtime, nap time, and playtime as required.  Magic stuffed animals (which can only be magic when the Gabbie Lady says so) can be used to cure a) bad dreams, b) the inability to sleep, c) illness of any variety from tummy aches to ant bites, d) and fear.  If you try to switch your magic animal or fight for one of the other magic animals the magic is lost.  It is crucial that you believe the stuffed animal will work or, again, the magic is invalidated.

3) Anything you do- whether it is reasonable or unreasonable- can and will be stopped with the line, "I don't want to go to the Emergency Room today- knock it off."  I don't care if you thought it was a good idea- if you utter the phrase, "Hey Gabbie! Watch this!" I will take you down.

4) Anything can (and will) be forgiven and forgotten with a smile, a polite tone, an apology (if necessary), and an act of kindness.

5) Gabbie's are magical.  I can fix anything... and I will fix anything... because I love you.

6) I have eyes in the back of my head... that can see through walls, floors, siblings, and ceilings.  I WILL see you get out of bed, I WILL grab you and lovingly tuck you back in, and later you I WILL make you fold laundry.

7) I can tell when you are lying.  Okay, maybe I can't but law of averages the kid that denies it most emphatically (except if his name is Jonathan), avoids eye contact, and somehow knows "who" did it that couldn't possibly be him is the guilty party.

Unsent Letters October 2011

Dear Jon,

When someone dies I don't like the phrase, "we lost him."  It makes me think that we have misplaced him and like all things that are misplaced we will find it again eventually.  Similarly I don't like the phrase, "he passed away," as if he were a wanderer and was never intended to stay for long.  I can't speak on "heading north", "over the hill", or "kicking the bucket" as they all stem from WWI and I try not to insult such euphemisms.  I think people disguise the loss so they can pretend that they don't feel the loss.  I'm beginning to accept this as a step of grief.  


A week ago Tuesday we lost you.  I say we because in a way, every member of humanity lost something that day, the only difference between those who didn't know you and those that did is that everyone else is blissfully unaware of what they have lost.  I cannot boast being among your close friends or even your friend, but my brother and my college roommate were very close to you.  I will never forget the first time I saw you but I cannot say as I remember the last time.  I cannot say I always liked you but I know you were trying to do God's work.  


I can't rationalize why you died, or why you had to die.  Even more than that I cannot explain why you had to hang on so long, living in pain.  I pray that such memories are forgotten in heaven.  I cannot understand why you died so young, especially when you were doing so much good.  I can say that I've never gone through such denial in my life though.  I've laid awake in bed with a guilty conscience, wishing I had been nicer to you. I sat and wondered how easily it could have been me.  I can't say as I've finished with the seven stages of guilt yet but I think I've finally reached the stage that I believe that I will.  


Your death has taken it's toll on all who knew you or went to school with you.  Shnaider said that "In a just world the clocks would stop today.  The bells would ring, and th enation would [morn] a fallen hero.  As it is, the Hero[es] life will be a beacon of Inspiration to Us all," and for once I agree.  Laura kept repeating, "I can't believe you're gone.  Put in a good word for us," but of all the facebook wisdom that I read the day that you died, I believe the best one was from Seneca.  " The day which we fear as our last is but the birthday of eternity.  I know wherever you are is a happier place than where you were when I knew you and that you have found peace.  I hope you're up there with God having the time of your life after death and someday I hope to join the party.  


Until then, good-bye Jon.

Why parents should not buy duct tape

My reasoning in my belief that parents should not buy, own, or borrow duct tape falls into my concurring belief that everyone should avoid temptation.  This might seem rather ridiculous because, after all, most people use duct tape for it's intended purpose, or something along those lines, but on more than one occasion I have consider (fantasized really) about using it for it's unintended purpose.  Namely, to use this....

to do this...

Or this...

Or this...

(Admit it- who WOULDN'T do that to Megan Fox?)

Or this...

Or this...

Hopefully I'm not alone in my crazy ideas but who among us hasn't considered running away from their children, or hiding in the closet?  Today, when Tia asked me to see if the children were done, I responded that they should be done cooking by now, and I was semi-serious.  Oh ho ho, children.  It is not Baba Yaga or the wicked witch who lives in the woods with the candy house that you should fear- it would be me. Mwahahhahaha.  

Lest I seem too demonic let me illuminate the fact that I never ever considered the alternative uses of duct tape until Four and Six spent ten minutes begging me to buy pink, purple, and blue duct tape while waiting in the LONGEST check out line ever!!!!  It was only then that I considered how well the colors might go if pressed over their cheek bones.  Before I forget, I didn't buy the duct tape... or any other kind of tape... no matter how tempting it was.  After all, I am on a budget.  

Lastly I would like to say that as horrible I am for my own private thoughts, perhaps my audience will think better for me because as bad as I am, I never actually did this...

... and instead only posted about it.  

The Club

Anyone who is a parent is part of this club.  Any adult who loves a child is part of this club.  Any adult who has ever gone out in public with a child is part of this club.  Older siblings will never understand this (or at least I didn't) and most people will miss it entirely unless they are part of the interaction.  Yes, I am talking about that most sacred acts of passage, that most noble rite, that impossible, that immeasurable, I've finally realized that I'm part of it- yes, I am talking about the club.

There are many restrictions to the club- for being such an open group we have very defined rules.

1) You must love a child more than anything, including but not limited to, your sleep cycle, your ego, and your sanity.
2) You must have taken this child out in public.
3) You must have been embarrassed by said child at least once in public.

If there are any more qualifications I have yet to discover them.

I found out about the club a few weeks ago I went to the store with two little girls.  To be fair it was the fourth stop on what was allegedly a short trip of errands but that had turned into an all morning event.  They were amiable, chatty, pleasant even, but the moment we parked the car in front of HEB I was wishing I was the toddler!!!!  We passed through the magic doors and immediately I heard cries of, "Gabbie, can we have a big cart?  Gabbie, can we have one with a car?  Gabbie, will you push us?  Gabbie, why not!?!?!!"  I could expound about the rest of the trip but let me reassure you that we could not go more than three feet without hearing BOTH of them scream that they wanted something.

Finally (blessedly) we got to the checkout line and my eyes started to wander.  Alright, I was really trying to zone out my smalls, but you understand.  I was hoping that everyone around us was blissfully ignorant of the noise that the little people were making but I was sadly disillusioned.  I was moping about this and that, dear readers, is when I saw him.  A kind looking gentleman, older than Tia and Tio, but younger than my parents, caught my attention.  He was trying desperately to not crack a smile, and was failing miserably.  Then our eyes met and in an instant I knew what he was thinking.

He was thinking, It's gonna be okay.  I've been there.  This age isn't forever.  Things will get better.  No one cares if they are a little noisy, they're kids and you are tired.  I mulled this over for a minute and then I caught that attempt to hold back a smile and realized he was saying one more thing.  Thank GOD it's not me. 

Well dear, kind sir, thank you for cheering me up.  Thank you for not glaring as if my very presence with my smalls was insulting.  Thank you for being a source of camaraderie and thank you for reassuring me that someday (some blissful day!!!) they will outgrow this stage, but next time, dear sir, could you try not to gloat so much.  Some of the gloat dripped onto the floor.

The bride

Everyone has a moment in their life that changes them- or I dearly hope so.  Hopefully it stops you in your tracks and hopefully you are forever changed by it.  Perhaps it is a ridiculous hope, but I hope it stops you in your tracks, makes you cry, and then makes you grateful.  At the end of every summer I think of one that happened when I was working in a bridal shop.

Contrary to popular belief, brides are not happy people.  In fact they are some of the most miserable human beings that I have ever come in contact with- bar none.  Ironically most of my best friends are either marrying them or becoming them.  Being friends with them can be akin to purgatory on earth (and I mean that in the best possible way), but make no mistake, working for them is hell.  My job was office managing, which meant I kept track of all incoming and outgoing orders, organized all the dresses, shoes, under gardments, veils, jewelry, tiaras, etc.  I called every bride, bridesmaid,  Mother of the Bride, Mother of the Groom, Grandmother, and flower girl.  I cleaned the shop, organized the shop, and went crazy with the shipping tape. That was fine... except when the shop got busy and I had to go and help the brides... *shudder*  But I digress.

One day I was tasked with sending back the dresses that were never picked up.  Some of them were because someone lost their job, some times the dress hadn't fit, once or twice the wedding had been called off, a LOT of times the bride had changed her mind, but there was one that stuck out in my memory.

Her name was Crystal Ball- I remember because I snickered the first time I read it.  I never met her in person but I prayed that I would be there to give it to her when she came.  She never did.  I will never forget the day that dress arrived.  It was my size and the most beautiful dress in the store.  It had the green accent which is my favorite color and it was the short version so it would have fit me too.  I loved that dress.  I wanted to wear it- just to try it on- but of course I never could.  I lovingly checked it in, hung it in it's place on the pickup line and waited every day for the bride to come and pick it up.  When returning any dress, especially when the dress has been purchased in full, paperwork requires that I give a reason.  Most of the reasons were bland and boring.  This one required me searching in the computer.  As I read through her file I felt like I was getting to know her as I read the different dresses she had looked at, the bridesmaids she had chosen, even the flower girl she had lovingly cared for.  Finally I found the reason for returning the beautiful dress.  It read as follows.

"Fiance killed in Iraq." 

The unforgetable classic, American Pie sung by Don McClean echoes in my head.

"I can't remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died." 

I remember that day well though I couldn't tell you anything else about the day.  I just remember my boss coming into the back room to find me crying at the foot of a wedding dress.   I always thought I was made of stronger stuff.   Those who know me know I don't cry easily.  I don't cry frequently.  I can count on one hand how many times I've cried in the last three years, but I cried that day.  I will never forget that young woman who changed my life without ever meeting me.  I wish I had met her- had looked her in the eye- just to see her joy- but I'm glad I never saw her pain.  Maybe someday I'll be able to understand why that had to happen, though I doubt it.  Do me a favor and when you read this, pray for her.  Pray that she's moved on in the years since then.  Pray that she's found something to make her happy.  Pray that she never forgets.

1571

I realize this morning that I am channeling A Catholic Guy's blog here but forgive me as I feel this is important.  In the past I have loudly announced that I did not like History until I was in college (thank you, Dr. Baxa) and that I never really learned any of it until I was in college.  This morning I was reminded that every once in a while something must have sunk in because the children's history/religion lesson was not a new page but an echo.  It took me a minute to realize this as Tia uses simpler language with her children than my high school history professor (whom I firmly believe was intent on making my head spin).  Today's lesson was on the Battle of Lepanto.  

In the world of 1571 Muslims and Christians did not get along (not unlike today) but then there was no media to frown upon them and no U.S. to beat them into submission.  What was better was the Spanish Naval Fleet naval force, who stood between the Turks and the rest of Christian Europe, were outnumbered, less experienced, and less mean (as Tia said.)  The Turks made no excuses- they would kill any man, woman, or child who would not convert and join them.  Recognizing how dire the situation was the King and Queen of Spain equipped their soldiers with a rosary, general absolution, and required that all those in the fight use both.  Most men carried their rosaries into battle, praying for victory as they went.

The Turks were defeated and never tried to take Europe again.  Pope Pius V created a new feast day- Our Lady of Victory which eventually became the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary, celebrated on October 7th.

Growing up around the Norbertines at Saint Michael's Abbey in El Toro, California I frequently heard the phrase, "Where are your weapons?  Would you go into battle without your weapons?"  At the time I did not understand that they were talking about rosaries and religious medals.  I could not comprehend what you meant- now I do.  I have a nervous habit of playing with my necklace which holds my chastity ring (which is too big for my fingers) and my Saint Gabriel medal.  I usually have a rosary around my neck as well (hidden under my shirt) along with my scapular.  I jokingly call them my Catholic stamp but I keep them as a reminder of who I am inside and who I fight for- not in battle- but in prayer.  I fight for the right to be Catholic.  I fight for the right to be Christian.  I fight for the right to be a good person.  I fight for everyone I've ever known, will ever meet, and never will ever see in this life.  I fight with the devil with the only weapon that I have- prayer.

The Alphabet according to Star Wars Geeks

*written this morning at breakfast*


A is for Anakin
B is for Boba Fett's blaster
C is for Chewbacca all ready for disaster
D is for the Death Star
E is for Ewok
F is for fight where a lot of guys get beat up
G is for Gungans
H is for Han Solo
I is for Imperial Royal guard
J is for Jedi and K was really hard
We settled on Kenobi, saying "You must use the force"
L is for Luke and Leia, who sometimes act like dorks
M is for Mara Jade (who all the real geeks know)
N is for Naboo where Queen Amidala's from
O is for Owen Lars who is the brother of Luke's dad
P is for Palpatine who is really, really bad
Q is for Quigon Jin
R is for Rebel spy
S is for Star Wars, cause I'm that kind of guy
T is Taun-Tauns who smell better when they're dead
U is for Ugnaught, an alien race who spend life with the clouds around their head (cause they're from Cloud City)
V is for Vader the one with the red light saber
W is for Wicket or favorite Ewok leader
X is X-wing
Y is for Yoda- Judge me by my size and you'll end up just like Boba
Z is for Zardra the forgotten bounty hunter
Which brings us to the end, stick around and next time we'll do Star Wars fashioned numbers.
Thank you for your time and we hope you are impressed.  Listen to the force and you'll always do your best.

Socks

I love doing laundry.  It is one of my favorite chores.  I mean how can you NOT love turning something soiled and dirty into something fresh and nice smelling?  And on top of that it's all soft and warm.  Laundry makes me want to just bury my face in it (not that I ever do that) and give it a big warm hug.  And then you get to fold it, and make it nice and orderly (stop laughing people who know me) and on top of all that- you get to make SOMEONE ELSE put it away!!!!  What's not to love?

Yep, laundry is pretty sweet... except for socks... I don't much care for matching socks.  This might be partly because my socks never seem match... even when I'm wearing them.  This could be attributed to the fact that the gremlins are constantly stealing one sock from every load of laundry... but always the left one?  Maybe they are right brain?  Or I might hate matching socks because they get everywhere... and I do mean everywhere.  Or it might be because every load of socks is an exercise in futility because I live with five children who are incapable of putting their socks in their dirty clothes baskets... or even wearing their socks for a full day.  And then if by some miracle a pair manages to get into the laundry basket and into the SAME LOAD of laundry one of them is SURELY going to get stuck in the crevice of the washer or the dryer (where I find no small amount of legos, froggy toys, and loose change) and will never be found until three days later no matter HOW MANY TIMES I check it.  I can't even keep the socks straight in my sock drawer!!!! Therefore it might be understandable that I don't like socks.  If I didn't need them so much I would burn them all!!!!!!!!!!!!  Well, not really, but you know what I mean.

Anyways, from the beginning of living in Texas I have made it perfectly clear to small people that washing and drying and folding socks is an act of patience, diligence, servitude, a small case of martyrdom, but most importantly it is an act of love.  This is so much an act of love that I have taught my smalls the following phrase-

Ahem, repeat after me.
Thank you, Gabbie.
Thank you, Gabbie.
I love you, Gabbie.
I love you, Gabbie.
You are awesome, Gabbie.
You are awesome, Gabbie.
I will wash your socks, Gabbie.
Nooooooo!!!!!!!


No matter what you think, they are always listening... and even they won't match socks for me.

My very perfect goddaughter

I am very proud of the fact that I do not have all of my parents phobias.  High on the list is my Mother's fear of spiders, mosquitoes, cockroaches, snakes, frogs, lizards, skinks, rats, mice, guinea pigs, or anything else that is small, crawls, climbs, slithers, or scurries.  I would even hazard to say that most of these "creepy crawlies" I rather enjoy.  Consequently I have little fear of them- the balance being that I tend to scream when anything, varying from a spider climbing out of my basil to Grisha dropping an ice pack onto my foot, usually causes me to hit a high G three octaves above middle C.  On the flip side of things I am usually the first one to pick up a crawling bug or lizard that has wandered into the house.  Mosquitoes, wasps, bees, and cockroaches are the exception.  They get lambasted on sight and vacuumed up to quell any fears small people (or big people) who are afraid of them.  My very perfect goddaughter has acquired much of these same characteristics.  She can catch the swift footed anollis that live in our backyard, squash the quickest spider that gets carried in on the basil, and is usually the first to spot any baby birds that have appeared in our Swallow's nest.  She does not scream.  She does not panic.  She is very, very perfect.

A few weeks ago we went to the Houston museum and we very happily visited the butterfly exhibit.  Within those doors we saw everything from the cicadas that we hear so frequently to the butterflies that we are currently raising.  We even saw a tank full of hissing cockroaches (Tia carefully skirted the opposite side of the room in order to avoid them.)  In one tank there was a tarantula, happily perched in the top corner, lying in wait for whoever dared to enter, and shielded from view unless looking directly into the top of the tank.  I admit, I was not expecting to see her, perched so daintily, surveying the world from her webbed throne, and I did manage a gasp that sent Tio snickering.  I regained some of my dignity when I showed Eight, Seven, Four, and my goddaughter, Five, to the lofty widow who surveyed them modestly.  They had much the same reaction as me (though I didn't cry like poor Four did.)  Too late we discovered that Four does not like spiders of any variety and seeing one so close to her face that was larger than both her hands was more than we could expect her to take.

Four regained her composure a few minutes later when we sat and watched the butterfly cocoons and the birth of many, many butterflies of varying colors and shapes, size and style.  She was entranced.  A few minutes later we took all of the children out into the butterfly garden where it is hard to get more than a few inches from the elegant creatures and where frequently they daintily land upon the visitors to their world.  A rather pretty purple one was resting by a flower and Tio went to take a picture of her with Four.  I suppose up until that point she thought the butterflies were not real, like at Disneyland.  Then one dared to fly inches from her face and she screamed and broke into sobs that could not be stopped until Papa had her in his arms, protecting her from the dangerous predator, the evil, the sinister, the malicious butterfly.  Five did not entertain any signs of fear.  She walked right up to them, put her finger out, tried to poke a few into flight, and warned everyone that to poke them too much would mean that they would die.  She was most entertaining.

On our way out of the butterfly garden I walked with Five, considering how lovely she is, and how I could not ask for a more perfect goddaughter.  She's not afraid of anything, I considered as she stepped quickly, from stair step to stair step, not giving any attention to spiderwebs or ants or even the people who filled the garden.  She was lost in her own little world... and then a butterfly flew in front of her.

At the time she had been singing and without missing a beat she raised the paper butterfly guide she had in her hand and took a whack at that beautiful butterfly.  Fortunately the butterfly was not as stupid as he looks and managed to drop and dodge her well aimed hit but I was left floored.  My godbaby- my sweet innocent goddaughter- tried to knock a butterfly out of the sky.  Well, I always wanted her to be like me...  now I might have to work on that tender, loving, care thing...

Hellfire

Eight years ago this fall, California was plagued with a series of wildfires that engulfed an expanse of the state from San Bernardino to San Diego.  Under the guidance of the famous Santa Ana winds, the wildfires grew and killed many people.  15 fires began in under a week, which is now known as the fire siege of 2003.  A number of the fires began on my birthday- it was my Quinceanera.

My Mother, my sister, my dog, and four of my closest friends were in the San Bernadino mountains when the fires began.  We were ordered to evacuate and as we drove down our mountain was engulfed in smoke.  I remember very clearly the smell of smoke in the air- the silent fear that had replaced our laughter- looking down at my feet to see my golden retriever curled up with his head in my lap, his tail between his legs- gazing out the window to see darkness, though it was still day, and the only light not coming from the fleeing vehicles came from the fire that was racing over the next hill.  The sun did not set that day- it was eliminated.

My mind raced to J.R.R. Tolkien's The Two Towers and a line by Legolas.

"A red sun rises- blood has been shed this night."

Later an arsonist was charged with starting them and many people died.  One, a young girl, was a close friend of one of the girls who was with me at my party.  Every time my birthday passes I think of her.

Fast forward to present day.   Austin and the surrounding area is being plagued with wildfires.  Texas has been suffering through a drought all summer and a sudden change in weather brought cooler weather but also heavy winds, which have only fueled the fire.  No less than five wildfires have swept the landscape since Saturday and thousands of people have been evacuated- hundreds have lost their homes- and much of the Bastrop State Park has been consumed.  The Boys Scouts of America, Catholic women's groups, and countless Churches have banded together to bring aid to those fighting the fire, provide shelters for those running from it, and give what they can to those who have lost their homes.  At least two people have died and this morning they suspect arson.

I am far from a good person- in fact I am quite certain I am a terrible person- but this is largely because of my anger.  Every morning that the fires continue, and we can smell the smoke and see the dark clouds in the distance, I have to reassure five small children that everything will be okay- that we won't be evacuated- that the fire will not come close- and I have to lie.  I find it very difficult to tell the children not to be frightened because I'm scared too.  Rationally I know there is very little likelihood that it will come- that we will have plenty of warning- that everyone will be okay.  I remember back in California, the years following the Siege of Fire.  The mountains were black for years- and then I moved away so I don't know if they still look the same.  I cannot think of California without remembering that horrible month where ash rained instead of water.

Two days ago the Bastrop fire- the worst one thus far- jumped the Colorado River- our greatest defense- and hasn't stopped, therefore I find myself asking for prayers.  Prayers for those lives that have been lost.  Prayers for those that have lost everything.  Prayers for Texas and the wild land that won't be the same for many years.  And prayers... for those that started this- I ask you to pray for them... and pray for me that I might be able to pray for them too.

Being a Good Example: Part Three- The Eighth Commandment

A current country song on the radio exudes the unfortunate plight of a young man in love who’s girlfriend has left him.  He asks her to talk to the friends he left behind and tell them lots and lots of lies to hide the fact that he is not over her- in fact he begs her “tell them anything you want to just don’t tell them the truth.” 

In Lois Lowry's book, The Giver the first instructions the Giver gives to Jonas is that he may lie to protect the truth of what they were doing.  

The first sin ever committed was disobedience in the Garden of Eden.  Immediately following that Adam and Eve made their sin worse by lying about their disobedience.  

It seems to me that lying is being more and more accepted, but I think that I may lose my mind if I don't speak out.

I recently found out that I was lied to by someone I care very deeply for.  I won’t tell you the details or the situation but let me explain that I am having… difficulty moving past that falsehood.  I suppose it shouldn’t matter and I’m sure that in a year I will have forgotten about what happened did, except if I reread this post, but for now I'm just angry.  Angry enough that I am having trouble being around her.  Angry enough that I don't want to be nice to her.  Angry enough that it might have changed our relationship.  

Avoiding the truth is a voluntary act of disrespect to someone.  Speaking the truth, even when it is hard and possibly embarrassing, is a greater sign of respect.  I may be annoyed with you for making a mistake or for correcting me, but I reserve anger for big things, i.e. outright lying. 

We have been blessed with the gift of language.  It is what makes us human.  From this gift we have created the talent of lying.  This seems to me akin to receiving a beautiful piece of art and then mangling it beyond comprehension and burning it.  You get something beautiful and you ruin it.  I realize that not everyone grew up where I did and so the truth is not nearly so dear to others, but still, it is important. 

What I really, really want out of people- my friends, my family, and anyone I interact with- is I want you to tell me the truth- even if it hurts- especially if it hurts.  

The continued grumblings of an unimpressed young woman

Not to anyone else's surprise, curiosity killed the cat... and I read New Moon.  I admit, it was more of a last minute decision before the lengthy drive back out to California a few weeks ago, but it was either that or finish some of the other books I'm half way through.  And let's face it, it's much easier to go back to reading that after refocusing the five-year-old than Oliver by Charles Dickens or Northanger Abbey by Jane Austin.  And with this book I don't have to explain why I inexplicably busted up laughing (while everyone else is listening to Cedric Diggory die in J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire on tape) than with Good Omens.*


Anyways, back to New Moon.  Once again Stefanie Meyer has managed to spoil one of my favorite childhood phrases and turned it into something that I involuntarily cringe at the very mention of.  What's better is she has managed to further destroy my favorite genre (fantasy- I know some of you were thinking Romance) by bringing in alleged WEREWOLVES as well as VAMPIRES!  (Insert massive amounts of grumbling HERE!)  It is around here that I recognize that I am pushing my (probably) unsolicited advice onto an unwilling audience here.  I mean, who am I to foist my humble opinions about what I like in men off on the rest of the universe.  After all, it very well may be that I'm the weird, cause I like my men to be, you know, warm, have a pulse, cry less than me, be born the same century as me, not stare at me through my window while I sleep, to stick around, not put me more than average physical harm's way, be alive, not be constantly and inexplicably angsty, and most importantly, speak in normal, non-asthmatic sentences.  These are all my preferences and I'm sorry if anyone has differing desires in men.  Feel free to stop reading here.  And for the rest of you, feel free to hear the continued grumblings of an unimpressed young woman. 

!!!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!


Now no one can be angry with me writing my synopsis.  (Insert self satisfied grin here.)  The story takes place immediately following the first book and covers Bella's 18th birthday, a day she sulks about because now she is officially "older" than her century old, eternally seventeen, vampire boyfriend.  She dreams that she turns into her grandmother while Edward is still seventeen.  After she wakes up she and Edward argue about their differing opinions concerning her becoming a vampire or not- in short he doesn't want her to be one.  For her birthday party, in which she tries to make all her friends miserable by forbidding them to actually celebrate, she goes to Edward's house and celebrates (without her family).  There she accidentally gets a paper cut which sends Edward's brother, Jasper into an uncontrollable rage.1  Edward has to step in to keep his brother from killing Bella and "accidentally" shoves her into a glass table, shattering it.2  This causes all of the rest of the vampire family to freak out and have to leave to control their blood lust, except for Carlisle who is a doctor and therefore is the only one who can control his carnivorous nature.  While she is getting sewn up she and Carlisle have a conversation as to why Edward does not want her to become a vampire.  Apparently Edward believes there is no heaven after vampire deaths because of their fallen nature.  He believes they lose their soul when they become vampires and Edward does not want that for Bella.  Carlisle disagrees with Edward because he believes that Edward is a good person and therefore there must be an afterlife for their kind because God would not allow such a good person to just not exist.  (I may disagree with most of the novels but I like Carlisle and not just because he is the only character that really discusses the possibility of God.)  


After they fix her all up Edward takes her home and as a parting birthday gift promises she will never see him again.  The reason?  Because he's finally realized that she might, possibly, maybe, probably, could be SAFER WITHOUT 'IM!!!! 


Bella handles it about as well as any teenage girl can be expected to handle... well, anything.  Several months pass (literally- we get a page labeled, "September", followed by "October", "November", "December", and "January") and Bella doesn't do much of anything.  Amazingly the story is just as interesting when she doesn't do anything.  Then her Dad, whom she respectfully addresses as "Charlie" suggests she get out and visit some of her "friends", i.e. those people who might possibly still want to see her in her zombie, lifeless form.  Rather than make friends again with the people who she goes to high school with she returns to LaPush, the local Indian reservation, and her childhood buddy, Jacob. 


Jacob is nursing a killer crush on Bella (as only mature little teenagers can do) and seems genuinely confused as to why she is still hung up on Edward.3 

I needed to reign in the enthusiasm before I gave him the wrong idea – it was just that it had been a long time since I’d felt so light and buoyant. (5.135)

Bella recognizes that he has a crush on her but isn't mature enough to set him straight.  She just uses him to feed her angstiness and to aid her in putting herself in dangerous situations which somehow spur Edward's voice in her head.  Methinks, ye young Bella is a loon. 

Halfway through the book the tables turn slightly and it is no longer Bella making Jacob miserable but Jacob making Bella miserable (doesn't this sound like a nice healthy relationship?) when Jacob transforms into a werewolf.  (Gee, didn't see that one coming with an angsty fantasy genre.)  Anyways, due to the complex and mystical inner workings of the tribe of werewolves, Jacob isn't allowed to actually tell Bella what has happened to him (sound familiar.  Stephenie Meyer needs to come up with an original semi-climax.)  Finally (after much angst) Jacob reminds Bella of a legend he told her about in Twilight but that he himself had dismissed as purely legend, a legend about vampires and werewolves.  Again, it was a real big "surprise."  Bella figures it out and Jacob is genuinely surprised that she doesn't run away screaming. 

Bella once again puts her life in danger (this time by jumping off a cliff) and Alice, Edward's future seeing sister, rushes back to Bella to see if she is really dead.  Here we find out the complicated issue of Alice not being able to "see" the wolves and that Edward (through an elaborate display of miscommunication 4.) Edward (being stupid) then decides that the best course of action would be to kill himself in solidarity with his love whom he dumped. (Again, nice healthy relationship, right?) 

Apparently it is rather difficult to commit suicide if you are a Vampire, and according to Edward, the best way to do this is to tick off the Volturi, and ancient race of elitist Vampires who are on no one's Christmas Card list.  Their primary goals in life- keeping vampiric existence a secret and eating people.  Edward goes on a suicide mission 5 but unfortunately for him, Alice sees his plans and wants to take Bella on a whirlwind trip across the globe to Italy (yes, Italy) to save Edward. 

Jacob stops Bella and begs her (yes, begs, down on his knees, near tears, emotionally, mind bleach scarring) not to go.  Yes, he may be selfish.  Yes, he may be dull.  Yes, he may be juvenile and more than a little angsty, but you gotta respect the guy for asking her to stay and not run into a (no holds barred) dangerous situation where she will more than likely die.  This is the part where I lose any respect I had for Bella because rather than respect the feelings of her family and friends who have stood by her after Edward abandoned her, she throws herself into the most dangerous predicament Stephenie Meyer could think of.  Bella doesn't even pretend that she cares what Jacob thinks.  Bella doesn't say goodbye to her Father.  She just goes. 

This is the part where I step back and ponder why people think that there is anything good  or redeemable about Bella Swan.  In fact I sometimes (okay, frequently) wonder if there is anyone nearly as bad at caring.  So they (Alice and Bella) fly to Italy, steal a very fancy car, and drive to where the Volturi (and Edward) have  been hiding out.  Jasper (who we remember is Alice's husband) calls and begs her that no matter what she will escape and return to him.  Alice promises but once she is off the phone she sighs that she does not like lying to him, which I took to imply that she would die, if necessary, trying to save Edward.  

Wouldn't you know it but it's a big party day (Saint Marcus day I think) and the entire city is jammed.  Alice bribes a few people to let them get closer but because she's a vampire she can't go out in the sunlight because *gasp* she might SPARKLE!!!6  Then Alice warns Bella that she needs to run and that they probably will both be dead by the morning.7  Anyways, danger does not frighten Bella like it should normal people (because their love is so powerful) and she rushes in.

Just in the nick- of- time, Bella rushes across the square- screaming at Edward who is oblivious8 and Bella literally bowls him over to get his attention.  Then we get to hear Edward's classic line of...

"Amazing, Carlisle was right.  You smell just exactly the same as always.  So maybe this is hell.  I don't care.  I'll take it."

I am in shock in awe how many Twilight readers asked what Edward meant.  Edward's idea of heaven was being with her so he assumed that if he was dead and he ended up in heaven then she must be there.  After slapping him a few times Bella reassures him that they are not dead... either of them and immediately the Volturi show up.  (Yeah for the bad guys!!!!  They bring more ANGST!!!!!)

It comes as a shock to the Volutri that a human (Bella) is in a relationship with a vampire( Edward) and that she knows all their secrets.  This is a potentially hazardous predicament as (again) they don't want Bella to live since she knows.  Edward immediately does his best Gollum impression (complete with the whole "my precioussssss" thang) and flips out.  They are all (Bella, Edward, and Alice) taken to the Volturi secret layer9 where Bella gets to meet all the head honchos.  In the middle of this where Edward and Alice are discussing their certain doom (because Bella knowsssss....) Bella gets all romantic (cause ya know, it's the perfect time for it) and thinks...

Happiness. It made the whole dying thing pretty bearable." (15.178)10

So Bella meets all three of the ancient vampires and their pets (i.e the vampires with special powers like telepatheticness, instant headache, anesthesia, etc.) where the pets try out their tricks on Bella.  Edward gets (understandably) upset and tries to intervene but they test him first.  Then they go to Bella but she doesn't give them the reaction they want- or any really (really, Meyer?  Really?) because Bella is immune to their powers.  (Pardon my giggling, it's hard to control.)  Anyways they let them go on the technicality that Edward intends to turn Bella at a later time (which Alice testifies to because she can see the future) and they leave Italy in a hurry, but not before Bella witnesses how the rest of the Vampire world eats.

Once clear of immediate and present danger Edward professes his undying love (pun intended) and they get back together.  Bella doesn't believe him (good girl) but eventually gives him (apparently it's hard to say no when Michelangelo's David is making out with you.)  Alice returns to Jasper where they have a very intimate moment by just gazing into each other's eyes (okay, I like Alice and Jasper too).  Rosalie apologizes and Edward bites her head off (not literally) and Bella is grounded.  Jacob promises that he will never forgive him and life returns to "normal" in the angsty, chaotic, dangerous world of Bella Swan.

*If you haven't read this book, neither have I.  I am not very far into it, but it's hilarious so far. 
1. "Oh no!  She might've gotten blood on the table cloth!!!"  Just a side thought... what happens when Bella gets her period? 
2. Honestly, was there nothing else in the room that might have NOT endangered her life.  I don't know, maybe a sofa, or three?  Or perhaps the piano.  That would have hurt but not so much as to cause a massive amount of blood to spill everywhere? 
3. It's the eyes- gotta love those bloodthirsty, watch you in the middle of the night, stalker eyes. 
4. One would think that being allegedly superior beings they could manage to actually say what they intended to say.

5. YEAH!!!!!

6. I'm sorry- that still makes me laugh... very, very hard.  The idea that they "sparkle" just sends me through West Hollywood flashbacks... or the Vegas strip.  Either way is sending me through fits of laughter.  Clearly Meyer does not recall that vampires are supposed to be scary *nods head emphatically*

7.  One could hope... but then... where would we get our life time dose of angstiness!!!! 

8.  Lalalalalalala- must commit public suicide because Bella must be dead- lalalalalalalala

9. So Bella can learn more of their deep dark secrets!!!!!

10. Forgive me for laughing... but happiness in my mind has nothing to do with painful, drawn out, leeching death. 

100 happy thoughts

100 things that made me happy today

1)      YEAH!!!! The alarm clock WORKED this morning

2)      Snooze button

3)      Warm cozy blankets

4)      The sunshine coming in my window

5)      Comfy jams

6)      Getting out of bed

7)      Clean teeth

8)      Small people still being asleep

9)      The beautiful green trees right outside my window

10)   A comfy denim skirt that is neither grungy nor frumpy

11)   A snarky t-shirt

12)   Shiny new earrings (thank you Brittany and Matt)

13)   Knowing somewhere in the world Sasha and Brittany have similar earrings

14)   A warm Irish sweater that once belonged to Pop and now keeps me warm most days

15)   Not having to go out in before stated sweater as it hangs down to my knees and is not very fashionable.  That and it matches NOTHING in my wardrobe

16)   It being too early to care about either of these fine qualities of my Irish sweater

17)   The five beautiful children, sleeping noisily in their beds (can I help it if they snore?)

18)   Bare feet on cool tile

19)   A brown cardinal outside the window

20)   The red cardinal repeatedly calling to his mate

21)   The smell of coffee

22)   The anticipation of coffee

23)   A clean apron that fits just right

24)   Clean sheets coming out of the dryer

25)   Cleaning out the lint trap

26)   The smell of vinegar

27)   A new load in before the kids are even awake

28)   Opening the children’s blinds and seeing Grisha smile at me

29)   A noisy morning kiss from the baby

30)   Jim cat following me around in hopeful expectation

31)   The realization of being the first adult up

32)   A smile from my godbaby

33)   Irene doing her own hair so well that she doesn’t need (or want) my help

34)   Three new little girl nightgowns thanks to their aunt

35)   Managing enthusiasm for the boys new Lego Harry Potter shirts

36)   Morning routines being completed without more excitement than usual

37)   A baby in my lap

38)   Morning prayer making sense

39)   Realizing that both Susan and I chose to wear floor length denim skirts and snarky “non-one-size-fits-no-one” t-shirts for the ceremonial first day of school

40)   Breakfast already being cooked

41)   Stealing Tia’s leftover restaurant toast

42)   COFFEE!!!!

43)   Coffee syrup that isn’t mine

44)   Checking facebook to see my sister’s laughter

45)   Kissing Grisha when he’s not paying attention

46)   Listening to Jonathan’s important questions about super soakers

47)   The boys doing their morning chores without reminder

48)   The girls doing their chores without complaint

49)   Being relatively uninterrupted while cooking

50)   An unexpected hug from Jonathan because my shirt declares that I am “Very Huggable”

51)   Making dinner during the children’s breakfast

52)   Finding the cooking sherry that was hiding

53)   The smell of dinner cooking in the Crockpot

54)   Helping a friend out without leaving the kitchen

55)   Listening to the children’s morning lesson

56)   Hugging Rebecca for no reason

57)   Grading math papers

58)   Sneaking Irene a hug

59)   Listening to the baby explain that she prefers to be called “Darth Sidius, darling”

60)   The baby’s new purple dragon cloak “which is not a costume”

61)   Everything about the baby

62)   Rebecca’s new skirt which makes her look like a lady

63)   Reading someone else’s blog post about modesty and remembering that I’m not the only one out there

64)   The smell of clean Irene hair

65)   Listening to the smalls play with their new toys

66)   Laughing with Rebecca about their antics

67)   The thought of our new earth science project which should be coming this week- caterpillars which should not die of disease or starvation

68)   The cat jumping into my lap to surprise me

69)   Talking to Grisha

70)   Playing “Now go away” with the baby which involves the baby trying to get out of my lap but never quite succeeding

71)   Playing run away from the baby throughout the house

72)   Searching for the baby

73)   Seeing the baby run away while wearing her new cloak

74)   Hiding from the baby

75)   Tossing the baby over my shoulder

76)   The baby asking if she can be my “little cat”

77)   Resting with the baby in my lap

78)   Watching Irene learn Math and different columns of numbers

79)   Watching Jonathan play

80)   Grisha ducking from my kisses

81)   Grisha offering me his foot as a suitable alternative to me kissing his head

82)   Jonathan correcting his brother that *I* am very kissable… not Grisha’s foot

83)   Holding Irene while she cried

84)   Yummy turkey-cheese melt

85)   Sweet tea

86)   Listening to the silence surrounding Tia’s reading C.S. Lewis The Horse and His Boy to the children

87)   Susan’s mother’s day flowers in the window

88)   A relatively clean kitchen

89)  

90)   The irony of the name “quiet time”

91)   Thinking of “trendy” and “modest” moms (they do exist- I promise!) and one in particular that we now know

92)   Resting on the couch with no small threatening to jump on me

93)   The book I am writing

94)   My life being filled with music

95)   My life being filled with children

96)   My life being filled with laughter

97)   My life being filled with love

98)   Dancing when no one is watching

99)   Dancing when I think no one is watching

100)                       Not dancing alone