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

Can I ask you a question?

 

Lately I have been trying to finish my online classes so that I may take my final tests.  Amidst all of these questions that I am answering I frequently am interrupted by small people.  It usually goes something like this-

"Gabbie, can I ask you something." 
"Is it important?"
"Of COURSE it is!"
"Okay, what is it?"

The following are some of the important questions from my favorite eight-year-old boy.

"Gabbie, to people who don't like God, who is more important, God or the devil?"

"Gabbie, have you seen my pants?"

"Gabbie, what is more important? God or games?"

"Gabbie, who do you think was a better Jedi- Darth Vader or Luke Skywalker?"

"Gabbie, who is my favorite Star Wars character?"

"Gabbie, have you seen my flip flops?"

"Gabbie, do you like Harry Potter?"

"Gabbie, do you think Lord Voldemort will go to heaven?"

"Gabbie, do you want to be a Jedi?"

"Gabbie, do you judge Yoda by his size?"

"Gabbie, where did you put Grisha's pajamas after you put them in our room?"

"Gabbie, who is your favorite saint?"... "Why?"

"Gabbie, have you seen your flip flops?"

"Gabbie, could please stop singing that?"

"Gabbie, did you know that Luke Skywalker is Darth Vader's son?"

"Gabbie, did you know that I love Disneyland?"

"Gabbie, could you please just stop singing?"
"Gabbie, have you seen my light saber?"

"Gabbie, did you know that you are not a boy- but that you like boys?"

"Gabbie, did you know that Darth Sidius dies?"

"Gabbie, do you have a favorite Star Wars character now?"

"Gabbie, I have no pants?" 

"Gabbie, why did you hide my pants in my drawer?"

"Gabbie, do you know what I'm building? No, you don't know- let me tell you."

"Gabbie, you do not understand my love for Harry Potter."

"Gabbie, do you know what this is for!?!?! No, you don't- let me tell you." 

"Gabbie, how many time have you been strangled?" 

"Gabbie, does it happen often?"

"Gabbie, can I borrow your flip flops?" 

"Gabbie, have you seen my book?" 

"Gabbie, do you think you would like to be strangled?" 

"Gabbie, how much do you think God likes people be strangled?" 

"Gabbie, how come you never want to go to the Emergency Room?" 

"Gabbie, did you know that I love you?... and I won't wash your socks."

I like that boy. 

The List

When I was twelve my at the time best friend showed me her biggest secret- a list of all the qualities the man she would marry would have.  6'3" was a height requirement.  Carrying a handkerchief was another.  Being born in 1987 or earlier made the list.  Being Catholic did not.  Having a car was preferable.  Having forty dollars in cash on him at all time was a prerequisite.  Willingness to have lots of Catholic babies was important.  Blue eyes or green made the list along with any number of nonsensical things that I could not understand.  The list was three pages long, front and back, single spaced.  My mind was boggled that she could put so many requirements on any possible suitor, not that she lacked any at the age of thirteen. 

Trying to be helpful (and lovingly protective) my Father wrote me a list as well. 

1) Must be born a Catholic
2) Must be a practicing Catholic
3) Must be smarter than you
4) Must not be Mexican*
5) Must like my Father
6) Must not be a seminarian**

*My Dad is Mexican and although this sounds racist- he's not. He's just terrified I'll have a green card wedding out of the compassion of my soul.
**This part of the list was tongue in cheek because many of the women in my family have married ex-seminarians.  It's sort of a running joke only I don't think it's funny. 
Not to be left out, my Mother made me a list too.

1) Must not be a teacher
2) Must have a career or a plan for a career that will support a family
3) Must be a good person
4) Must not be a seminarian
5) Must be of strong moral character
6) Must like my Mother

Pop also wrote a list

1) Must be a real man- none of those wussy boys
2) Must not marry a marine- they're pretty boys and none too bright

My grandfather was a paratrooper so I guess there is a natural rivalry there and I respect him enough not to question that one. 

With all these wonderful helpers, I decided that I needed to compose my own list or requirements. 

1) Must be a practicing Catholic
2) Must be taller than my brother John-Paul
3) My brother Danny must like him

My best friend laughed at me.  We weren't best friends much longer after that.  My Mother tried to alter my list- "He should have a good job".  That is important, but not necessary.  "He needs to take care of you," my Father added.  I smiled and said, "Danny wouldn't like him if he didn't take care of me."   Pop added, "He has to be a good man."  I'm not saying that all Catholics men are good men or that all good men are Catholic, but the "practicing Catholic" covered that one too.  That was my list at the ripe old age of twelve.  Ten years later, I told my godmother and my Texas friends about this list. 

1) Must love kids, one said
2) Must love music, added another
3) Must love animals, a final one said

It seems that everyone had something to add to my list, but my list has not changed- my definitions might have, but the same three things are still required...

Brothers

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away... no, that's not right. 

Once upon a time... no, that's not right either. 

Chapter one- I was born... I give up. 

Before I started this blog I lived in Florida.  Before that I lived in California.  I think it is time that I revisited the before. 

When I was in High School my two best friends in the world were my brother Daniel and my cousin Nick.  The three of us were frequently in the same classes and usually were inseparable.  I don't know if we were united because we were social outcasts, or merely because we had the common background of family.  Or maybe it was because unlike so many of our fellow students, we had not always been in Saint Michael's.  Nick was in a traditional Catholic school until High School, Danny had spent most of his primary school years at a school designed for highly intelligent Dyslexic children.  I was the social pariah because I had been in public school for six years.  Either which way, the three of us had lots of fun and somehow became rather popular because we were so close.  My Mother used to describe the three of us as having a relationship that everyone wished they had. 

We were simply "cousins" in our mind but to everyone else we became "the cousins."  After a year or two we started adopting "cousins" into our circle.  First there was a boy named Ryan who was older than Nick but younger than Danny.  Then there were two brothers named Kyle and Jon- Kyle was just older than me and Jon two years younger. 

I suspect one of the reasons we were so close was because we spent hours together every day, in the classroom as well as in the car. In the classroom we would pull pranks frequently- I can recall one particular April Fools Day joke where we convinced the entire class to come in with fifteen page, double spaced, essays written on the topic of "God in Our Lives", which allegedly was worth half of our grade.

If anyone picked on one of us (usually me) they had to deal with all of us.  One boy in our school (who never really understood us) decided it would be funny to try and intimidate me during a debate class.  He stood well over a foot taller than me (and I suppose I should have been afraid) but all he really managed to do was make me angry.  He was later cornered by my brothers and promised that if he ever tried that again... well- there was never an "again" to worry about after that day. 

After we graduated, my two youngest brothers, John-Paul and Robert, and my sister, and Nick's younger sisters and brothers, continued the cool factor of  "the cousins."  I frequently look back and think of the last golden summer before most of my brothers graduated and we went our different ways.  In my mind I call it "the last golden summer" because everything was perfect then.  Of course no guy ever dared to date the girl with eight brothers, but other than that my life was perfect.  Inseparable and happy. And then everything changed. Danny left for Florida, Nick left for Northern California, Ryan went to Phoenix and we haven't been back together since. Whenever my mind travels back to life before college, I always think of them. Every guy I ever date has to be approved by them and every friend I ever make will have to measure up to them.  When I moved here to Texas, for the first time I was a lone entity, and not known by who I was related to.  This has proven to be a good thing as well as a bad thing because I no longer have to worry about standing out from them.  On the other hand, at days end, I don't have them to regroup with.  I don't have the awesome feeling that I could fight any battle with a small army behind me.  If I could change one thing about Texas, it would be to have them here with me. 

Maybe it is weird, that a girl is friends with her brothers, but maybe it is actually how God intended.  I don't understand this vindictive sibling rivalry that seems to be popular these days.  All I know is what I grew up with- all my brothers and my one lone sister, my best friends. 

May I please see your I.D.?

It's a simple question.  It's a frequently asked question.  My elder brother, Danny, gets carded almost every time he buys alcohol.  My Mother regularly gets carded and she's in her fifties.  All my friends get carded whenever we go out together, even the ones who are older than me. 

In the state of Texas it is required to ID anyone who looks like they are within ten years of being 21.  In Florida the law is that anyone who looks under thirty must be carded.  In California, they have a similar rule.  I have purchased alcohol in all three states (and many others) and I have been carded all of three times.  For a while I thought this might be influenced by the fact that I am usually surrounded by a) people who are a lot older than me- like in their forties or fifties, or b) small children who bear a striking resemblance to me, but frequently of late I have been going shopping by myself.  In fact, I think every time in the last few months that I have bought liquor I have not been carded.  Do I honestly look like I'm in my thirties?  Or do I just act like I'm that old? 

I realize that this is a petty thing to complain about.  I mean I should look on the bright side.  When in public people go out of their way to not offend me (because I look matronly) and apologize for inconveniencing me.  This very well may be attributed to the fact that I frequently look upset when I'm in public.  I don't try to- it just is where my face rests when I'm thinking hard- and when I am alone I think very hard. 

Oh well, maybe I'll resemble this age forever and when I'm in my sixties I will still look thirty?