Tag: family

Dog Dads

A while back, someone sent dogrl an e-mail with the following information:

In a press release today, the National Institute of Health has announced the discovery of a potentially dangerous substance in the hair of dogs. This substance, called “amo-bacter canis,” has been linked with the following symptoms, especially in female humans:

Reluctance to cook
Reluctance to perform housework
Reluctance to wear anything but jeans or sweats
Reluctance to work except in support of a dog
Physical craving for contact with dogs (may be an addiction)

Beware: If you come in contact with a female human affected by this substance, be prepared to talk about dogs for hours on end.


This has been a Public Service Announcement.

Hmph. I suggested that this substance is just as likely to affect men. I then threatened to provide photographic proof. Ms. Dogrl was on that like amo-bacter canis on a dog. So, as evidence, I present the following photos.

click here for photos of proud dog dads

Being an Aunt

I had a lot of aunts growing up. Only my father’s sister and a sister-in-law on his side, but my mother had five sisters, as well as six brothers who all had wives (sometimes more than one each, though not simultaneously). I liked all my aunts, but I wasn’t very close to any of them as I got older, mostly because we didn’t see them often.

So my friend Lynne shared her two aunts with me. We had a blast with them. We forced them to act in our home movies (Forced? They loved mugging for the cameras!), cussed our way through games of cards and Monopoly and Yahtzee, and hounded them to make us their specialties in the kitchen (Lil’s fries and her chocolate pound cake; Audrey’s hushpuppies). I had loved Lynne’s mother as a second mother, and when she died, her sisters treated me as another of their nieces. When Tim and I wrote the aunts in THREE FORTUNES, very often it was my memories of Lynne’s aunts that I drew from.

I’m crazy about my nieces and nephews. I never had children, so I’m thrilled to have been part of their growing up. (I’m TOTALLY unbiased when I say that my sister and brother produced smart, funny, beautiful kids.) And because of Tom, I am an aunt to a second family of amazing children. Lynne’s son is, to me, another of my nephews. Even though I was fortunate enough to grow up within a good family that I love, I also learned from Lynne’s relatives that our biological family is not necessarily the only one we’ll ever have. And for people not as lucky as I am, created families may provide a wealth of love and support they wouldn’t otherwise know.

Aunt Audrey is ill, perhaps critically. Normally, I’d be jumping in the car with Lynne and going back to Alabama to take my place among my surrogate family and share this time together. Because of other commitments, I can’t. But I’ll be there in spirit with these incredible people who’ve been there for most of my life.

Safe journey, Lynne, and take my love with you to our family.

I’m so grateful for coffee

Today’s coffee cup (it’s blurry; so am I), brought to you by Tom, is from Alonti Cafe and Catering. It was part of a gift bag he received a few years ago while he was working on a Habitat for Humanity home through AIDS Foundation Houston. AFH is the third HIV/AIDS assistance organization with whom Tom has volunteered over the past eleven years. I think he’s a stand-up guy, that Tom. He can’t be doing it for the coffee cups, because we have an abundance.

Waxing Rhapsodic

For several days now, Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” has been a constant refrain playing through my head. In hopes of ridding myself of this earworm–even though it’s a good one–here’s one of my few posts that actually reveals personal information about my past. I’m sure I’ll only leave it up for a day or two before I become horrified and make it private and inaccessible.

One thing about Tom and me having no kids… There’s no captive audience for our longass boring stories. And you are free, too–you can save yourself by not reading:

George Gershwin and Me

Bears, oh my

Have I put this photo in my LJ before? No matter. I’ve been inspired by a brilliant writer, Mark Harris, who just sent Tim and me a copy of the children’s book Corduroy, which Mark calls “the most compelling love story ever.” He’s right.

The photo below is Dr. Neil. Dr. Neil is the brown and…er…dirty bear. He was a gift to me when I was three years old and in the hospital. He came from my Uncle Gerald, who was the first person who ever called me “a writer.”

Uncle Gerald was a writer. He was a frequent contributor to a newspaper column. He wrote essays and poems. He wrote wonderful letters. He encouraged me to write letters to him, pored over them for any evidence that I had talent with words, and encouraged me in every way possible. NEVER doubt the positive effect and influence your praise can have on a child, because Uncle Gerald changed and shaped my life. Along with my parents, he taught me to call myself a writer long before I had the right. (So, Mark, if you’re reading this? Any encouragement you feel you’ve gotten from me? There’s a direct line back to Uncle Gerald.)

Uncle Gerald died when I was sixteen. But he’s alive to me every time I write. I owe him so much. And when I look at Dr. Neil, I smile at the memory of this man who, even with three children of his own and dozens more nieces and nephews, took the time to show one little girl that he loved her and wanted her to get well.

In this photo, Dr. Neil has a friend on his lap. That friend is Oscar, the battered, barely there bear of my San Diego friend Steve (the one who visited us last fall). But Oscar’s story is Steve’s to tell.


Dr. Neil, named for the man who got me well, and Dr. Neil’s friend Oscar.