"Life is tough; it's tougher if you're stupid." -John Wayne
Ash Wednesday meals should be penitential, not inedible." -Tia
*At dinner we go around the table asking three questions- "What was your blessing today?" "How did you bless someone else?" and "Did you have a challenge today?" The idea is that you ask the person to your right all the questions (with pauses for answers in between) and then they in turn ask the person to their right, thus going around the entire table.*
"Papa, can I have some more sour cream." -Atilla
"Ask Gabbie your question." -Tio
"Gabbie, can I have some more sour cream." -Atilla
"Gabbie, the train can't go through." -Napoleon
"That's because it's a submarine and submarine's don't go on land." -me
"Gabbie the boat cannot go through." -Napoleon
"That's because it is a submarine and submarine's don't go on land." -me
"Gabbie it won't go on land!" -Napoleon
"That's because it's a boat and it doesn't go on land."-me
"You said it was a submarine." -Napoleon
Attila upon finding a suspect looking thing upon her leg immediately picks it up and puts it in her mound as I scream in protest. "It's okay- it's part of my plum." I realized she had stopped eating the plum a bit ago but was wondering how long it had been on her leg and was about to ask her as much when she ate it while I squawked. Tio looked at me and said, "What did you think she was going to do?"
The General's speech therapist is expecting a baby and she just told him that she is expecting a boy. I was teasing the General that he should recommend his first name to her for her baby.
He sighed and rolled his eyes and said, "Gabbie, I think she should name her baby Luke Skywalker... or Harry Potter." I knew I liked that kid.
During a conversation on cultures and the foods that come from them.
"What food do they eat in Iceland?" -Napoleon
"Ice Cream!!!!" -The General
"How come Australia doesn't have any special foods?" -The Captain
"Cause haggus doesn't travel well." -Gabbie
"Gabbie, do you know what I found today? Oocha!" -Napoleon, over the phone (Napoleon fell in love with a giant green grasshopper in our front yard a few months ago. She routinely catches him and carries him around on her head and enjoys this. A few weeks ago he disappeared.)
"That's wonderful, baby; he moved to California." -me
"Guess what he did when I tried to get him off my hand?" -Napoleon
"He jumped off?" -me
"No, he jumped on Nana's dog's head!" -Napoleon
This morning Attila summarized the life of Augustus Caesar as follows.
"First he was a citizen, then he was first citizen, then he was a prince, then a king, and then he was dead."
I don't know what she is learning in that history lesson but you must admit that she is succinct and accurate.
Before going to Carlsbad
Caverns the five smalls were discussing excitedly what they were going
to see in the cave. I resisted the urge to tell them that we should
look out for Batman and the Batmobile. Fortunately they thought of this on their own.
Iri rescues Tio from the cricket.
Iri rescues a grasshopper from the lawnmower.
Iri rescues an anolli from the house.
Iri keeps a geckos tail, a cicada wing, and a cicada exoskeleton.
Iri's favorite Christmas present is a box full of live ladybugs.
I love my goddaughter.
"Do or do not: there is no try." -Queen Victoria to her siblings, quoting Yoda.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Great ideas that I thought up
"YOU DID WHAT!!!!"
This is the usual response to most of my stories of things I did in California. I don't know if I am any more wild in California than I am in Texas or I was in Florida but for some reason everyone is surprised. Really, could you blame them? I do tell some pretty outlandish stories, but are they all true? My Father likes to say that the women in my family never let a little thing like truth get in the way of a good story. I'd say he's embellishing this ideology a little, but only a very little. In this post I will write on several things I may or may not have done (or said) in California (or on the road to Roswell) in the last three weeks, but I won't tell you if they actually happened or not. That may not be fair but whoever said life was fair? Maybe a carnival master.
Upon arriving in California (via a 747) I procured some black face makeup, black clothing, and a red lightsaber. I left the terminal with a look that would have sent grown men crying and upon making my way to baggage claim found my next younger brother waiting for me. In my best Darth Vader voice I extended my lightsaber and said in my best Sith lord voice, "So, we meet again- for the first time, for the last time."
While in Roswell Sir went to buy a pack of beer. It's not so unusual. If he's anywhere for any amount of time he does. What was unusual was that he was dying of laughter so loud that I could hear him across the store. Okay, I'll ask. "I just got carded," he snickered when I inquired as to the reason for his joyous laughter. What was even more enjoyable was that I had purchased alcohol (and significantly more) last year when we were there and hadn't gotten carded. 77 vs 22. I win.
Since last August my grandmother, great aunt, and a friend of theirs, have been trying to set me up. They are sweet and I like them but I generally don't approve of being "set up." Upon meeting him I pulled him aside and said in a hushed tone, "Wanna make a couple old ladies talk forever!?" I don't know what I had planned to do next but it would have been fun to say and even more enjoyable to watch his response.
A good friend asked my friend Koshka (who accompanied me for part of my trip in California) "Are you two together together?" (Remember this is California.) Koshka and I both laughed and I told him, "Yes, but not like you are imagining. Koshka's taken... by a guy."
A friend asked me why I was heading to Roswell after California. I told him in my sweetest voice that I was, "Hitching a ride home."
At my brothers graduation party I tried my best to be sociable. It didn't work. I don't know why but people didn't seem to want to talk to me or my friend, Koshka.
Strange Creatures
I seriously considered telling someone from Texas to call me singing the lyrics of the Black Eyed Peas "Ohio: Come Back to Texas." Then I could sing, "California, here I come."
I went with my grandparents to purchase their new vehicle. It was lots of fun (I should have brought popcorn) because those two were bickering like an old married couple. They always do that when they are together, but really I think they reserve it for when there is an audience. The saleswoman turned to me and was telling me how cute they were and I smiled politely. She then asked sir, "How long have you two been married?" With missing a beat Pop answered, "Two weeks." Nana shook her head with a sigh and added, "No dear, it's been longer than that- more like three." I was dying.
When taking a picture with a couple of friends one of them said, "Robert has to be in the center- he's the rose among the thorns." I then informed the group that we were a "thorn in his side."
As I was coming down the stairs for Mass my Mother looked at me and said, "You look very wholesome." I deadpanned at her and said, "Dang it, I was hoping to look like trouble."
This is the usual response to most of my stories of things I did in California. I don't know if I am any more wild in California than I am in Texas or I was in Florida but for some reason everyone is surprised. Really, could you blame them? I do tell some pretty outlandish stories, but are they all true? My Father likes to say that the women in my family never let a little thing like truth get in the way of a good story. I'd say he's embellishing this ideology a little, but only a very little. In this post I will write on several things I may or may not have done (or said) in California (or on the road to Roswell) in the last three weeks, but I won't tell you if they actually happened or not. That may not be fair but whoever said life was fair? Maybe a carnival master.
Upon arriving in California (via a 747) I procured some black face makeup, black clothing, and a red lightsaber. I left the terminal with a look that would have sent grown men crying and upon making my way to baggage claim found my next younger brother waiting for me. In my best Darth Vader voice I extended my lightsaber and said in my best Sith lord voice, "So, we meet again- for the first time, for the last time."
While in Roswell Sir went to buy a pack of beer. It's not so unusual. If he's anywhere for any amount of time he does. What was unusual was that he was dying of laughter so loud that I could hear him across the store. Okay, I'll ask. "I just got carded," he snickered when I inquired as to the reason for his joyous laughter. What was even more enjoyable was that I had purchased alcohol (and significantly more) last year when we were there and hadn't gotten carded. 77 vs 22. I win.
Since last August my grandmother, great aunt, and a friend of theirs, have been trying to set me up. They are sweet and I like them but I generally don't approve of being "set up." Upon meeting him I pulled him aside and said in a hushed tone, "Wanna make a couple old ladies talk forever!?" I don't know what I had planned to do next but it would have been fun to say and even more enjoyable to watch his response.
A good friend asked my friend Koshka (who accompanied me for part of my trip in California) "Are you two together together?" (Remember this is California.) Koshka and I both laughed and I told him, "Yes, but not like you are imagining. Koshka's taken... by a guy."
A friend asked me why I was heading to Roswell after California. I told him in my sweetest voice that I was, "Hitching a ride home."
At my brothers graduation party I tried my best to be sociable. It didn't work. I don't know why but people didn't seem to want to talk to me or my friend, Koshka.
Strange Creatures
I seriously considered telling someone from Texas to call me singing the lyrics of the Black Eyed Peas "Ohio: Come Back to Texas." Then I could sing, "California, here I come."
I went with my grandparents to purchase their new vehicle. It was lots of fun (I should have brought popcorn) because those two were bickering like an old married couple. They always do that when they are together, but really I think they reserve it for when there is an audience. The saleswoman turned to me and was telling me how cute they were and I smiled politely. She then asked sir, "How long have you two been married?" With missing a beat Pop answered, "Two weeks." Nana shook her head with a sigh and added, "No dear, it's been longer than that- more like three." I was dying.
When taking a picture with a couple of friends one of them said, "Robert has to be in the center- he's the rose among the thorns." I then informed the group that we were a "thorn in his side."
As I was coming down the stairs for Mass my Mother looked at me and said, "You look very wholesome." I deadpanned at her and said, "Dang it, I was hoping to look like trouble."
I should not...
One might think that since I have survived to the age of 24 I should know better than to do the following.
1.) I should not attempt to climb the stairs while balancing a thick, hard bound copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula while carrying a large cup of Lemonade and using my cellphone as a flashlight because it is dark.
2.) I should not tell my just introduced dance partner, who is still learning basic swing steps, that my brothers won't kill him, even if he breaks my toes trying this.
3.) I should not laugh out loud when people ask me if I am "Catholic or something?" In case my name, family, university, high school, and church didn't give it away... Also, I should not respond with, "or something."
4.) I should not tell people my full name. It's long. They won't remember it anyways.
1.) I should not attempt to climb the stairs while balancing a thick, hard bound copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula while carrying a large cup of Lemonade and using my cellphone as a flashlight because it is dark.
2.) I should not tell my just introduced dance partner, who is still learning basic swing steps, that my brothers won't kill him, even if he breaks my toes trying this.
3.) I should not laugh out loud when people ask me if I am "Catholic or something?" In case my name, family, university, high school, and church didn't give it away... Also, I should not respond with, "or something."
4.) I should not tell people my full name. It's long. They won't remember it anyways.
5.) I should not say the first thing that comes to mind when meeting attractive men with unusual names, in particular when I think of geeky things like "Sam as in "Samwise?" or "Ken" as in Barbie?"
6.) I should not assume that young looking guys are students when I am in downtown Austin near the university, because chances are they aren't.
7.) I should not be offended when people do not remember me the fifth time that I've introduced myself.
8.) I should not try to remove the mop head of a steam mop when it is making a hissing sound.
9.) I should not start conversations without coffee.
10.) I should really avoid wearing new shoes out clubbing... particularly when I'm still breaking them in.
11.) I shouldn't laugh when people tell me that I'm good at something, nor should I scoff. I should also not be offended when they tell me that I need practice.
12.) I should not pick fights with my cat. He always gets even.
13.) I shouldn't let people dig themselves in deeper when they make racial slurs around me. I should not remain silent either.
14.) I should not wait for the last chance mass.
15.) I should not leave my alarm clock in places that I cannot find in the dark.
16.) I should not watch scary movies when I'm home alone.
17.) I should write things down because we all know that I will forget them otherwise.
18.) I should talk to the people... even when I'm afraid, even when I'm shy, and even when I'm alone.
19.) I should burn the candle once in a while.
20.) When I leave the house I should turn off the loud radio.
21.) I should eat before I black out.
22.) I should close the door before Jim gets in the room when I'm sleeping.
23.) I should not compose sad songs because people think I'm sad.
24.) I should leave the past in the past.
All these things I should do... but chances are that I won't.
6.) I should not assume that young looking guys are students when I am in downtown Austin near the university, because chances are they aren't.
7.) I should not be offended when people do not remember me the fifth time that I've introduced myself.
8.) I should not try to remove the mop head of a steam mop when it is making a hissing sound.
9.) I should not start conversations without coffee.
10.) I should really avoid wearing new shoes out clubbing... particularly when I'm still breaking them in.
11.) I shouldn't laugh when people tell me that I'm good at something, nor should I scoff. I should also not be offended when they tell me that I need practice.
12.) I should not pick fights with my cat. He always gets even.
13.) I shouldn't let people dig themselves in deeper when they make racial slurs around me. I should not remain silent either.
14.) I should not wait for the last chance mass.
15.) I should not leave my alarm clock in places that I cannot find in the dark.
16.) I should not watch scary movies when I'm home alone.
17.) I should write things down because we all know that I will forget them otherwise.
18.) I should talk to the people... even when I'm afraid, even when I'm shy, and even when I'm alone.
19.) I should burn the candle once in a while.
20.) When I leave the house I should turn off the loud radio.
21.) I should eat before I black out.
22.) I should close the door before Jim gets in the room when I'm sleeping.
23.) I should not compose sad songs because people think I'm sad.
24.) I should leave the past in the past.
All these things I should do... but chances are that I won't.
Friday, November 23, 2012
The Great Misunderstanding
My second goddaughter wanted to go as Saint Kateri Tekakwitha for the All Saints Day Festival. Her mother asked me to help her get her costume together. Indian looking dress- check! Headpiece- check! Feathers- check! Lily- this is where all the trouble began.
Saint Kateri Tekakwitha was a young Algonquin/Mokawk woman who was recently proclaimed a Saint in the Roman Catholic Church. Dying a virgin she was converted by her Mother who was converted by French Missionaries. She was shunned by her Father's people because of her Christian beliefs and because of her deep love of Christ she died a virgin so as to be His spouse. She was informally known as the Lily of the Mohawks. Frequently she is pictured with a Lily.
When I went to the craft store to acquire various pieces to various costumes ranging from Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius to the Crocodile from Peter Pan I found (with some difficulty) a range of fake flowers. There were lots of flowers but no lilies. After some searching I managed to find a lily, picked out one that I liked, and brought it home.
Tia went through my stuff and we set to work finishing costumes. Several hours later she pulled out the lily and asked, "So, why did you get this?" I gawked. "It is a lily," I said, and then tried to explain, "for Saint Kateri; you know, the lily of the Mohawks." She frowned, "This is a calla lily." "So?" I asked. "I meant an Easter Lilly," she shook her head, "not a calla lily." I tilted my head to one side as I frequently do when I am confused, "There is a difference?" "Yes, did not you know?" she said with a deadpan expression. "Apparently not," I sighed, "what should I do?" "Nothing, we will manage." Oh," I replied.
Unfortunately there was not really time to go and replace it so our "Lily of the Mohawks" had a calla lily instead of an Easter lily, thus making this god mommy feel like even more of a schmuck. Oh well, there is always NEXT year. On the other hand, I'll never forget that there is a difference between a calla lily and an Easter lily. You may count on that.
Saint Kateri Tekakwitha was a young Algonquin/Mokawk woman who was recently proclaimed a Saint in the Roman Catholic Church. Dying a virgin she was converted by her Mother who was converted by French Missionaries. She was shunned by her Father's people because of her Christian beliefs and because of her deep love of Christ she died a virgin so as to be His spouse. She was informally known as the Lily of the Mohawks. Frequently she is pictured with a Lily. When I went to the craft store to acquire various pieces to various costumes ranging from Saint Cyril and Saint Methodius to the Crocodile from Peter Pan I found (with some difficulty) a range of fake flowers. There were lots of flowers but no lilies. After some searching I managed to find a lily, picked out one that I liked, and brought it home.
Tia went through my stuff and we set to work finishing costumes. Several hours later she pulled out the lily and asked, "So, why did you get this?" I gawked. "It is a lily," I said, and then tried to explain, "for Saint Kateri; you know, the lily of the Mohawks." She frowned, "This is a calla lily." "So?" I asked. "I meant an Easter Lilly," she shook her head, "not a calla lily." I tilted my head to one side as I frequently do when I am confused, "There is a difference?" "Yes, did not you know?" she said with a deadpan expression. "Apparently not," I sighed, "what should I do?" "Nothing, we will manage." Oh," I replied.Unfortunately there was not really time to go and replace it so our "Lily of the Mohawks" had a calla lily instead of an Easter lily, thus making this god mommy feel like even more of a schmuck. Oh well, there is always NEXT year. On the other hand, I'll never forget that there is a difference between a calla lily and an Easter lily. You may count on that.
Tuesday, November 06, 2012
Blue toes
I'm sure you are wondering what in the world I am talking about. I mean who wouldn't with a title like that. You must be thinking, "Blue toes? Really, Gabbie, we don't want to hear about your new nail polish color." And as much as I'd love to tell you about my new nail polish, I won't. At least not this morning.
I like to think that everything in my life is worthy of a really cheesy sitcom. Of course I think this- after all I have a blog. I like to say that all the world is a stage and I'm just God's comic relief. Today was no exception.
This morning I was awoken (at an ungodly hour) by my computer (who finally loaded the video I was trying to watch before bed) who was playing mens voices... in my room. (Yes, I said "who." My laptop has a name.) I harrumphed, opened the computer, closed the computer, shoved my computer back under the bed (the safest place for it in the event of the invading child apocalypse) and then proceeded to pull several warm blankets back over me, grumbling something about the evilness of Aloysius and never naming my computer after a teddy bear from a book ever again.
Two hours later I was awoken by a couple smalls who were thrown off by the time change and could not figure out why everyone wasn't already awake. Then I tried to go back to sleep. That didn't work. I look at my clock and sighed. 6.20 am. Well, I told myself with a sigh as I sat up in bed, throwing off the covers, Might as well go vote. Immediately I plunged after my blankets and wrapped myself in them until I managed to get dressed; it was cold this morning- even the Texans agreed with me.
Approximately fifteen minutes later I got to the polling location, a local elementary school, and sighed. This was SOOOO the wrong morning to wear flip flops but thank God I didn't wear a skirt as I was originally planning to do. At 6.45 in the morning the line to exercise our constitutional rights was wrapped three quarters around the building and extended halfway to the street. It was 54 degrees outside. "Well hooray for voting" I mumbled to myself as I buttoned the buttons on the sweater I was thanking my Guardian Angel for leaving in my car and sending prayers to my Mother for giving it to me before I moved here. There was no sun. There was lots of wind. There was no coffee. I decided I was not going to have a good morning.
The line was eerily quiet, almost as if all the Williamson County Citizens were waiting to enter a funeral to pay their respects to an unfamiliar but greatly endeared civic leader, an analogy that struck me as amusing considering the dire predicaments of just about everyone in my Facebook feed. Scratch that. The line was eerily quiet, with the one small exception of anyone who was within ear shot of me. Like I said, I was cold. And we all know that I currently lack a filter... particularly before coffee and especially when I'm in great discomfort. So I started whining. I'd like to say there was a reason for it. There really wasn't.
I found a kindred spirit in the middle aged gentleman who stood behind me in line. I named him Bob in my head. I politely informed him that the more I lived in Texas the more I understood why people moved to California. He laughed. I looked at the line as it stretched out farther to the street and commented that it shouldn't be so complicated to exercise our representation rights but perhaps this was the country's way of weeding out the really stupid people, like Darwinism. He laughed again. I considered how cold I was and reassessed the cold turn of the weather and dwelled upon my bed. Two more people in line laughed. I noted all the signs directing those unfamiliar with the area where to vote and noted that there were still people who were asking for directions- I could see them clearly from where I stood in the cold. They laughed louder. I pointed out the great American spirit of a woman who was waving a sign just outside of the 100 feet required. That was commitment. No one laughed at that one. I suggested that the weather was God turning a cold shoulder on Texas as well. Everyone laughed again. I looked down at my toes that were steadily turning blue and sighed.
The sun started to shine down upon us just in time for the line to move and for me to be stuck behind the shadow of a building. Still I had about two minutes of blissful sunshine. A couple people gave me odd looks as I entered the building but I decided that maybe I should spend more time on my appearance before I went out in public. Later I looked in a mirror and decided that I truly have awesome hair.
Then I voted. Then I went home, handed off my shiny new sticker to the first child I saw and continued exercising my other rights- like the right of free will. And then we prayed. We all prayed. We'll be praying all day. I can't wait for tonight. We'll be praying then too... but my toes won't be unnaturally blue... and there will be alcohol. Amen.
I like to think that everything in my life is worthy of a really cheesy sitcom. Of course I think this- after all I have a blog. I like to say that all the world is a stage and I'm just God's comic relief. Today was no exception.
This morning I was awoken (at an ungodly hour) by my computer (who finally loaded the video I was trying to watch before bed) who was playing mens voices... in my room. (Yes, I said "who." My laptop has a name.) I harrumphed, opened the computer, closed the computer, shoved my computer back under the bed (the safest place for it in the event of the invading child apocalypse) and then proceeded to pull several warm blankets back over me, grumbling something about the evilness of Aloysius and never naming my computer after a teddy bear from a book ever again.
Two hours later I was awoken by a couple smalls who were thrown off by the time change and could not figure out why everyone wasn't already awake. Then I tried to go back to sleep. That didn't work. I look at my clock and sighed. 6.20 am. Well, I told myself with a sigh as I sat up in bed, throwing off the covers, Might as well go vote. Immediately I plunged after my blankets and wrapped myself in them until I managed to get dressed; it was cold this morning- even the Texans agreed with me.
Approximately fifteen minutes later I got to the polling location, a local elementary school, and sighed. This was SOOOO the wrong morning to wear flip flops but thank God I didn't wear a skirt as I was originally planning to do. At 6.45 in the morning the line to exercise our constitutional rights was wrapped three quarters around the building and extended halfway to the street. It was 54 degrees outside. "Well hooray for voting" I mumbled to myself as I buttoned the buttons on the sweater I was thanking my Guardian Angel for leaving in my car and sending prayers to my Mother for giving it to me before I moved here. There was no sun. There was lots of wind. There was no coffee. I decided I was not going to have a good morning.
The line was eerily quiet, almost as if all the Williamson County Citizens were waiting to enter a funeral to pay their respects to an unfamiliar but greatly endeared civic leader, an analogy that struck me as amusing considering the dire predicaments of just about everyone in my Facebook feed. Scratch that. The line was eerily quiet, with the one small exception of anyone who was within ear shot of me. Like I said, I was cold. And we all know that I currently lack a filter... particularly before coffee and especially when I'm in great discomfort. So I started whining. I'd like to say there was a reason for it. There really wasn't.
I found a kindred spirit in the middle aged gentleman who stood behind me in line. I named him Bob in my head. I politely informed him that the more I lived in Texas the more I understood why people moved to California. He laughed. I looked at the line as it stretched out farther to the street and commented that it shouldn't be so complicated to exercise our representation rights but perhaps this was the country's way of weeding out the really stupid people, like Darwinism. He laughed again. I considered how cold I was and reassessed the cold turn of the weather and dwelled upon my bed. Two more people in line laughed. I noted all the signs directing those unfamiliar with the area where to vote and noted that there were still people who were asking for directions- I could see them clearly from where I stood in the cold. They laughed louder. I pointed out the great American spirit of a woman who was waving a sign just outside of the 100 feet required. That was commitment. No one laughed at that one. I suggested that the weather was God turning a cold shoulder on Texas as well. Everyone laughed again. I looked down at my toes that were steadily turning blue and sighed.
The sun started to shine down upon us just in time for the line to move and for me to be stuck behind the shadow of a building. Still I had about two minutes of blissful sunshine. A couple people gave me odd looks as I entered the building but I decided that maybe I should spend more time on my appearance before I went out in public. Later I looked in a mirror and decided that I truly have awesome hair.
Then I voted. Then I went home, handed off my shiny new sticker to the first child I saw and continued exercising my other rights- like the right of free will. And then we prayed. We all prayed. We'll be praying all day. I can't wait for tonight. We'll be praying then too... but my toes won't be unnaturally blue... and there will be alcohol. Amen.
Thursday, November 01, 2012
So are you going to vote?
It seemed like such a strange question after a long discussion about the upcoming presidential election between President Obama and Romney among my coworkers. Of course I'm going to vote. I just may be pulling teeth when I do it.
Early voting has been going on for the past week here in Texas and for whatever reason everyone wants to talk about it- at home, on facebook, and in my work place. Elections may happen every year but this year seems to be more... I don't know... violent than previous years.
At work I had to read "Faithful Citizenship" and from it I deduced that I am very cynical. The one thing I did get from it when I read it the second time (yes, I read it before when I went to a talk a few months ago) was this single line.
In a few months when the elections are over I'm sure that much of the drama now will blow over. I pray that when that happens everyone can accept the decision of the country. This is not to say go quietly into the night about the issues that seem to make and break friendships. Rather I would hope that this will spur them on to a greater fight for what is good. At the same time I hope that people will accept the President whoever he is as he is- human. Pray for him. Pray for him as a leader of the people. Pray that he is guided by God and has the wisdom to accept God's guidance. I would expect nothing less from the people of the United States. God bless America.
Early voting has been going on for the past week here in Texas and for whatever reason everyone wants to talk about it- at home, on facebook, and in my work place. Elections may happen every year but this year seems to be more... I don't know... violent than previous years.
At work I had to read "Faithful Citizenship" and from it I deduced that I am very cynical. The one thing I did get from it when I read it the second time (yes, I read it before when I went to a talk a few months ago) was this single line.
Liberty isn't freedom to do whatever you want. Liberty is the freedom to do what is right.I may not agree with anything else that is being said in the media, on facebook, or in any other form of discussion, but I stand by this. I will vote because anything else would be shirking my responsibility of my stewardship given to me by God. No one else can make the decision of who I vote for without me. No amount of media coverage, harassment, or cutesy little signs will alter that. And I will be held accountable for my decision.
In a few months when the elections are over I'm sure that much of the drama now will blow over. I pray that when that happens everyone can accept the decision of the country. This is not to say go quietly into the night about the issues that seem to make and break friendships. Rather I would hope that this will spur them on to a greater fight for what is good. At the same time I hope that people will accept the President whoever he is as he is- human. Pray for him. Pray for him as a leader of the people. Pray that he is guided by God and has the wisdom to accept God's guidance. I would expect nothing less from the people of the United States. God bless America.
The Continued Adventures of the Gabbie Lady Part the Second
Lately I have taken up my second love of swing dancing again. I
found a club in Austin and I have been trying to go a couple times a
month. It really is a great group because the dancers there range from
beginners to far more advanced than me. This means I can mix my time in
teaching as well as learning. This makes me happy.
I was asked out twice in one week in October (a feet that has not happened since I was graduating from college) and even more surprising is I gave one a chance. I took him swing dancing with me and he did not really listen to my instructions. He ended up pulling my arm in a direction God never intended it to go and... let us just say I will not be seeing him again. (This paragraph is more for the benefit of my parents and grandparents who are no doubt still wondering when I will be supplying them with an endless supply of grandchildren to spoil.)
An opossum got into the garage and was happily sitting in the cat food bin, eating his heart out. (This is the correct spelling of the word. Most Americans spell it wrong but the only "possums" live in Australia.) Steven cleverly closed the case (after carefully sliding the opossums tale into the bin) and then I carried it out. It took us a minute to get the airtight seal open again and I was beginning to worry that the opossum might perish from asphyxiation. Luckily for him (and unluckily for us) when we opened the bin he was still quite alive and not "playing possum." He was not too happy with us but he still did not want to leave. Some gentle "nudging" convinced him otherwise and we have not seen him since. Tia cracked some jokes about "how many people does it take to get an opossum out of a cat food box"? Tio pointed out that she was little help standing on the front porch and taking pictures. I enjoyed the event thoroughly. I know. This makes me weird. One of these days I am going to introduce myself, "Hi, I'm Gabrielle "I kill my own spiders" Tempest" and wait for the reactions to follow.
I had a birthday. Captain Lindbergh has been asking me ever since how old I am and what age I would prefer to be. I have been nice and have not answered. The day itself was very pleasant but I will probably be celebrating it more next month.
Halloween
recently passed and with it came our annual week of insanity as we
tried to get all costumes ready for the All Saints Day Festival as well
as entirely different costumes for Halloween itself. I think part of
hell has frozen over because I had the opportunity to wear my sword and
did not. Or maybe this is a sign of personal growth. I also dressed up
as Saint (and not one pre-conversion as I have threatened, Jilana) on
the day of Halloween. Several people warranted a guess as to who I was
with guesses ranging from "Joan of Arc" (really?) to a "Flower child" (I
glared.) My favorite incorrect guess was the Princess Bride from the
movie. I think I like that priest more because of his guess. For the
record I was Saint Brigid of Ireland... and no, I did not wear a habit.
Queen Victoria has taken to repeating her favorite Gabbie quote whenever we are baking or cooking or making something edible. The line is as follows, "Look, Gabbie! It is your favorite! Food!" Sadly, she is remarkably accurate. I like food... but really I just like good cooking. My Godmommy is a great cook.
Looking back over the last few months I realize that I have been dwelling on the past. I cannot say that this will change in the future but I hope to be better about dealing with it. Maybe some day I will get to the point where I may laugh about this as well. Is there more change in my future? Probably. Do I know what it is? Not so much. All I know for sure is that whatever the future holds for me... will be an adventure.
I was asked out twice in one week in October (a feet that has not happened since I was graduating from college) and even more surprising is I gave one a chance. I took him swing dancing with me and he did not really listen to my instructions. He ended up pulling my arm in a direction God never intended it to go and... let us just say I will not be seeing him again. (This paragraph is more for the benefit of my parents and grandparents who are no doubt still wondering when I will be supplying them with an endless supply of grandchildren to spoil.)
An opossum got into the garage and was happily sitting in the cat food bin, eating his heart out. (This is the correct spelling of the word. Most Americans spell it wrong but the only "possums" live in Australia.) Steven cleverly closed the case (after carefully sliding the opossums tale into the bin) and then I carried it out. It took us a minute to get the airtight seal open again and I was beginning to worry that the opossum might perish from asphyxiation. Luckily for him (and unluckily for us) when we opened the bin he was still quite alive and not "playing possum." He was not too happy with us but he still did not want to leave. Some gentle "nudging" convinced him otherwise and we have not seen him since. Tia cracked some jokes about "how many people does it take to get an opossum out of a cat food box"? Tio pointed out that she was little help standing on the front porch and taking pictures. I enjoyed the event thoroughly. I know. This makes me weird. One of these days I am going to introduce myself, "Hi, I'm Gabrielle "I kill my own spiders" Tempest" and wait for the reactions to follow.
I had a birthday. Captain Lindbergh has been asking me ever since how old I am and what age I would prefer to be. I have been nice and have not answered. The day itself was very pleasant but I will probably be celebrating it more next month.
Halloween
recently passed and with it came our annual week of insanity as we
tried to get all costumes ready for the All Saints Day Festival as well
as entirely different costumes for Halloween itself. I think part of
hell has frozen over because I had the opportunity to wear my sword and
did not. Or maybe this is a sign of personal growth. I also dressed up
as Saint (and not one pre-conversion as I have threatened, Jilana) on
the day of Halloween. Several people warranted a guess as to who I was
with guesses ranging from "Joan of Arc" (really?) to a "Flower child" (I
glared.) My favorite incorrect guess was the Princess Bride from the
movie. I think I like that priest more because of his guess. For the
record I was Saint Brigid of Ireland... and no, I did not wear a habit.
Queen Victoria has taken to repeating her favorite Gabbie quote whenever we are baking or cooking or making something edible. The line is as follows, "Look, Gabbie! It is your favorite! Food!" Sadly, she is remarkably accurate. I like food... but really I just like good cooking. My Godmommy is a great cook.
Looking back over the last few months I realize that I have been dwelling on the past. I cannot say that this will change in the future but I hope to be better about dealing with it. Maybe some day I will get to the point where I may laugh about this as well. Is there more change in my future? Probably. Do I know what it is? Not so much. All I know for sure is that whatever the future holds for me... will be an adventure.
The Continued Adventures of The Gabbie Lady Part the First
I really hate remembering to remember things. I am always forgetting where I left my phone, my shoes, my purse, my mind... but for once I think it is necessary that I update the world on the last few months.
Everyone always tells me that you are not really healed until it does not hurt anymore but I do not think that is true. If it does not hurt any more it was never really broken. When I fell off my bike in high school I did not do anything worse than bruise up my left leg and it still hurts when it gets cold. My toes tingle from where my eldest brother ran a sofa over it my freshman year of college and they still hurt before it rains. Due to this my definition of "healing" is different than others. It may never be the same as before but at least I can laugh about it now.
Last summer when I went to Texas many of my family members set me up, with varying degrees of hilarity ensuing. When I returned to Texas I was still happily (and without regret) single. Then I ran into an old college friend from Ave and, well, we... talked. Anyone who has seen me through any relationship knows that I do not rush into things. I do not take chances and I spend the first few weeks trying to scare him off. I discuss everything at length before I allow my heart to get involved. I let him in... and he broke my heart. I was so upset that I called my Father, a situation I would normally avoid because neither of us enjoy lengthy phone calls. Anyways, his advice was to let the brigand go (okay, he did not say it that way but I really should not repeat it as he said it). Maybe this is why I have not been writing as much as I did earlier in the year? Anyways, I have not spoken to him since and I really believe that if our paths cross ever again it would be the act of an unfeeling God.
Shortly after that I started working at a broker company called 360 Partners. I worked there just over a month when I was offered a better position closer to home and with better hours. The broker company and I parted on amicable terms and life continued. The only real difference was that I was now working at a Church Office. I jokingly say I run the lives of three priests but really, I spend my days running a parish, and I must say that it agrees with me.
I have been learning Spanish again. I admit that this is something that I have missed but I laugh at the setup in the office. Everyone who is learning English is not allowed to speak in Spanish. And everyone who is learning Spanish (i.e. me) are not allowed to speak English. This some times sets the day for very laughable circumstances as we scramble through our Spanish English Dictionaries and more than once I have replied in the wrong language including Russian, French, Italian, and on one occasion Chinese. I think my brain is wired wrong.
I'll come back and finish this later.
Everyone always tells me that you are not really healed until it does not hurt anymore but I do not think that is true. If it does not hurt any more it was never really broken. When I fell off my bike in high school I did not do anything worse than bruise up my left leg and it still hurts when it gets cold. My toes tingle from where my eldest brother ran a sofa over it my freshman year of college and they still hurt before it rains. Due to this my definition of "healing" is different than others. It may never be the same as before but at least I can laugh about it now.
Last summer when I went to Texas many of my family members set me up, with varying degrees of hilarity ensuing. When I returned to Texas I was still happily (and without regret) single. Then I ran into an old college friend from Ave and, well, we... talked. Anyone who has seen me through any relationship knows that I do not rush into things. I do not take chances and I spend the first few weeks trying to scare him off. I discuss everything at length before I allow my heart to get involved. I let him in... and he broke my heart. I was so upset that I called my Father, a situation I would normally avoid because neither of us enjoy lengthy phone calls. Anyways, his advice was to let the brigand go (okay, he did not say it that way but I really should not repeat it as he said it). Maybe this is why I have not been writing as much as I did earlier in the year? Anyways, I have not spoken to him since and I really believe that if our paths cross ever again it would be the act of an unfeeling God.Shortly after that I started working at a broker company called 360 Partners. I worked there just over a month when I was offered a better position closer to home and with better hours. The broker company and I parted on amicable terms and life continued. The only real difference was that I was now working at a Church Office. I jokingly say I run the lives of three priests but really, I spend my days running a parish, and I must say that it agrees with me.
I have been learning Spanish again. I admit that this is something that I have missed but I laugh at the setup in the office. Everyone who is learning English is not allowed to speak in Spanish. And everyone who is learning Spanish (i.e. me) are not allowed to speak English. This some times sets the day for very laughable circumstances as we scramble through our Spanish English Dictionaries and more than once I have replied in the wrong language including Russian, French, Italian, and on one occasion Chinese. I think my brain is wired wrong.
I'll come back and finish this later.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
Happy Birthday
When I was little I would spend all year waiting for October to come around. And then when October did come I'd mark down the days until my birthday. My little heart would be filled with anticipation as I would gaze longingly at the calendar, willing time to go faster. Then my birthday would come, I'd turn another year older, and inevitably something bad would happen. Some years it was something little- like no one would come to my birthday party. Other years it was something big like someone would throw up on me (this one happened a lot.) Then I grew up. And things got worse. On my fifteenth birthday I was evacuated in a storm of wildfire. A girl I knew (a friend of a friend) died in the wildfire. I got older and we found out about another friend that I hadn't seen in years, who was shot in a drive by shooting around my birthday. We did the math and discovered that my birthday was the day that one of my friends was almost a SIDS victim. Every time I turned around something was happening. And then last October a college buddy passed away. That one was the worst.
This week was the one year anniversary of Jon's death. I tried not to let that minor detail affect me but I almost burst into tears at several points throughout the day. It was bad enough before when I was the only one suffering but when everyone was... I felt so displaced. I wrote my poem on grief that I've been mulling over and over again in my head this week. I remember that I felt guilty being alive when he wasn't. Now I feel guilty feeling happy about anything because he is gone. I felt even worse feeling sad because things could be so much worse. And then today I had a revelation. I shouldn't look at it as Jon's death day... so much as his second birthday... a birthday into heaven.
Friday, October 12, 2012
The Ugly Girl's Lesson
I am no saint. I live in and for the world as much as I endeavor to work towards the next. Yet, every day that I spend being a dedicated member of society I am learning much about the world and things that I'd wish I never had to know.
I went to the grocery store this week and literally every magazine cover boasted titles as "She got her body back after weight gain!" "New hot young stars!" and "How you can look like her!" (all of them had exclamation points) as they were graced with semi nude women in provocative poses. I learned that it was direly necessary to sell a magazine centered around parenting, beautiful homes, and recipes.
I was reading news articles online and I came across Jennifer Lopez wearing nothing but a strategically placed pair of Boxer's gloves. The article boasted that this was to be an image of strength to women, because Boxers are supposed to be strong, however I came away learning that women had to be semi-nude to be noticed.
I was watching one of my favorite television shows and the one girl who was the token virgin at her work place was classified (three seasons after she was spawned) as the one lone Christian. An episode after they explain her reason for being sexually abstinent the writers have her lose her virginity, her mind, and her job in one week, stemming all from her crazy religious ideals. I learned that religion, of any kind, if it does not allow for free, undiscriminating, non-committal sex (notice that I don't say "love") is offensive and outdated and should be portrayed as such.
Watching the Olympics I discovered that one can sell everything from toothpaste to tennis shoes by dressing women in their underwear (or less) and putting it in a commercial. I learned that I will never fit in if I do not wear as little as possible. I have also learned that I don't want my reason for living to be confined to my youth.
This could easily turn into a rant about the horribleness of the news media, the sad portrayal of any religious beliefs that don't allow for Hippy Free Love, and how sad the things are that actually make news, but really, I'd just like to ask some questions- Why don't they ever portray women taking the high ground? Why don't they talk about women making good choices- where they don't put themselves into positions where they could be morally compromised? Where they aren't valued only for their physical appearance and level of sexual appeal? Why doesn't anyone show equality of decisions- that some people choose to sleep around and live with the consequences and that some people save themselves for marriage? Why is my worth as a person only valued by what I can give- by my role as a sex object? If society cannot respect our decisions (because I know that I am not alone in this) then why can't women like me at least be portrayed as something other than crazy?
I have learned that it takes inner strength to be resistant to news, networks, society, and peer pressure to keep from being assimilated and lost in the crowd. I've learned that saying "no" is hard for a few minutes but an infinitely better alternative than waking up with self-loathing. I've learned that I make mistakes and that I have to pick myself some days to try again. I've learned to avoid situations that would put me in a position where I might be weak. I have learned that everyone has a choice and that my choice may be different than almost everyone I come in contact with, but that I should never be ashamed of it. I've learned that I am not a stereotypical beauty but that I can make anyone laugh, even on their worst days. I've learned I have so much more to give to the world than a flash in the pan physical beauty and that I want so much more from it than the short lived appreciation of my appearance.
I don't know if this is a fair statement- the title I mean. I may be quite pretty. Then again I may be horridly ugly and I guess that is for others to decide, but really, should it matter? The most important thing that I have learned is that I'd rather be ugly and unloved than loved for the wrong reasons. As I said before, I'm not a saint. I don't think I ever will be one... but I also know that we are all called to try.
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