Tag: family

Oh, well, um…

….that last post is what happens when I stay up all night brooding and trying to remember where I put that damn cauldron and eye of newt…

Thank you for all your comments; you’re the people who make my life sing, truly, along with one other group that I forgot to mention. And that’s the friends who DO get it, who DO help me carve out pieces of time to write, who keep inviting me and including me and calling me even after all the times I say no. I have said before that I have the best friends on the planet, and it’s true. You know who you are, those of you who give me your time and understanding and chocolate and sometimes even your money (so I can do things like go to the Lammys) and who take care of some of the people that I neglect like Tom and “that old woman.”

(And don’t worry, Kathleen, because what I’m really hoping is that by publishing that picture, I’ll SHAME myself into finishing the Christmas stuff early by making myself publicly accountable!)

Rather than addressing every comment individually, here’s a BIG THANK YOU to all of you because you’re the shiny people. =)

And my sister has a new computer–HOORAY!

Happy Cinco de Mayo.

Something for Mark, while he can still see

Here are a couple of paintings my father did late 60s, early 70s. They’re on wooden panels that came out of some piece of furniture. He was really just playing around, but I liked them and ferreted them away to a hiding place so they’d be mine, ALL MINE! The paintings you noticed from Galveston made me remember them (and get Tom to retrieve them from their newest hiding place). Now Tom wants to hang them on the wall behind my desk, and I agree.

I’m loading them through LJ so you can click on them and make them bigger (or embiggen them, as Joe.My.God. taught me to say thanks to The Simpsons).

you know what to do

Then there was the Sunday of Too Many Photos

My sister has a crush on Galveston, Texas, and every time she comes to visit, we try to spend a day there. It’s only an hour away, and we’ve even gone during her winter trips, bundled in sweaters, our photos showing bodies rigid from trying to stave off the icy Gulf breeze. It’s not always tropical days and sultry nights on the Gulf Coast.

Cousin Ron calls the Gulf of Mexico the “Faux-cean.” NOT! Waves? Check. Can you surf them? Sometimes, so check. Sandy beaches? Check. Seaweed? Check. Salt water? Check. Seashells? Check. Jellyfish? Check. Dolphins? Check. SHARKS? Check.

That makes it an ocean, dammit.

The Texas and Louisiana beaches aren’t as pretty to me as the white sands of Florida, Alabama, and Mississippi. And nothing beats the greens and blues of Florida’s Gulf water. But the reason my sister likes Galveston is because it’s old, a little worn down, so it has the same appeal as most Southern cities. In the South, we don’t like everything shiny and new. We like our cities the same way we like our people–with a little mystery, a bit of weathering, a smattering of insanity, and a lot of charm.

On Sunday, Tom and I duly threw the sister in the car and hit the road. Please don’t judge all of Galveston by these photos, as they were mainly taken on the Strand, which is the touristy section of town. They can’t even begin to convey the amazing homes, gardens, and architecture elsewhere on the island. Next trip, maybe.

Here are a few things that caught my eye. In some cases, it almost felt like some of you were standing next to me. I’ll leave it to you to figure that out.

click here for more photos than you can shake a cat* at

Stormy Weather

My sister’s flight was delayed an hour and a half yesterday because of bad weather. This morning, I was awakened during a fierce thunderstorm by a trembling dog trying to get as close to me as she could. I pulled the covers over her and fell back to sleep. When I woke up, she was gone, so I figured the weather had gotten better.

Then I walked into my sister’s room and found this unhappy face staring at a cruel world from beneath the covers just as another storm rolled in.

I’ll bet that over at Tim’s, Rex is equally unhappy.

Remembering

One time, Jon at Blurbomat blogged about what it meant to him to be a father. (Edit: Jon’s post can be found here.) I can’t remember all the details of what he said, but his main point was that whatever freedom to pursue his artistic self-expression he’d given up, he had no regrets, because his family was the most important and fulfilling part of his life. I wrote him (I have no idea if he ever read my e-mail), because that day I read his blog over and over with tears streaming down my face.
click here for more emotional rambling

Friday Moments

Both dogs had their checkups including booster shots and nail clippings and are in great physical shape. I love it when the girls are healthy. In fact, they didn’t even mention that Guinness could stand to lose a pound or two. Good thing no one tried to make her exercise today, because both she and Margot have been in comas after their hours at the “spa,” as we like to try to make them think of it. (Manicures! Pampering! Plastic stick up their butts–what, they don’t do that at your spa?)

Regarding exercise, Rex and Tim dropped me at the gym this afternoon before they went to the dog park. I expected either Tim or Tom to pick me up. So it was a lovely surprise to walk out of the gym and see Rex sitting like the model dog next to Tim on a granite bench. He’s really made great strides toward being the best dog he can be. Rex, not Tim. There’s no hope for Tim to be the best dog he can be, but he’s a great person, and that’s almost as good.

Unfortunately, I also got some sad news today. Lynne’s Aunt Audrey died. I could never have enough glowing words for what the women in Lynne’s family have meant to me since I was just a kid. They taught me so much about family and love and our strength as steel magnolias. It was at Aunt Audrey’s house that I first learned to play progressive rummy, and I remember laughing my butt off at some of the things that came out of Audrey’s mouth when all of us were together. Lynne’s mom died much too young, and sometimes when Aunt Audrey would say, “Oh, damn, Becky!” she would sound just like her. I love her. I’ll miss her.

And for my sister, another steel magnolia–I’m totally stealing that story you told me today. There has to be a way I can use it. I hope everything works out okay.