Validating my "I'm a Dork" post label...

There is exactly one turn required to get from Paul's grandparent's house to the store.
On one of my first visits, I went to the store under the impression that not even I could screw up the driving directions "And turn left at X street."

Guess what?

Thanks to mindless driving and listening to Dave Matthews serenade me, I did.

When I told Grandpa that I had missed my turn because I was listening to Dave and told him what song it was, he laughed at me. And then pretended it was normal.

So now? This will always be our song.

Day 17: I Remember...

My favorite memory.

I don't really know that I have a favorite memory. Well, let me rephrase that. I don't have just ONE favorite memory.

If I had to pick though...I'd have to go with the big family campout back in like, 1989/90.

It was myself, my dad and mom, sister, some aunts and uncles and cousins, and fake aunts and uncles too. We had fires, made pudgy pies (pie filling toasted between two slices of bread over the fire), laughed, fished, and in general made the most of that summer.

I don't really remember a whole lot about the trip. I do remember that is when the name "Uncle Jimmy Fart-Fart" was made up, and it stuck for a few years. Mostly, to distinguish between my two fake uncle Jims. I remember my mom laughing around the fire, while (probably) picking on my uncles.

We made the most of that vacation, and I am so glad we did. It was the last trip we would take with my mom. We didn't know it would be, but we sure lived like we did.

Day 11 ~ Why I Think the Milkman is My Dad...

I resemble approximately zero people in my family. I am blonde. I am tall. I'm so pale I'm clear. I have really long fingers. 

Both of the people in this picture are my relatives. I'm guessing you would suspect that cute girl in the white dress is my biological sister. And you would be wrong. The nerd in the cute blue dress is my older sister. And I am not joking. We supposedly have the same mother and father. 

In case you don't remember what I look like:

(Ignore my horrible expression. I don't really know what's wrong with me.)

Would you ever put together that I was related to either one of those girls? Me neither. 

So what it all boils down to is something Brat told me a long time ago.

You always know who your mother is; your father you take on faith.

Day 3: My Parents

My parents met on a blind date. I find this to be so completely romantic and awesome. It's also really surprising, because I don't think I could picture my dad agreeing to a blind date. He's not that type.

He is however, a former Marine. I don't think I saw him smile more than a handful of times growing up. He's very gruff, and was always strict. He is retired from the State Highway Department of Indiana, which means that in the summer he patched pot holes, and in the winter he plowed snow. His job made him very paranoid, and when he taught me to drive, the first things I learned were how to safely maneuver around road workers. He was struck by cars twice, and had numerous near misses.

My dad taught me that you didn't need a lot of money to be happy. Family is everything. God is the only constant.

My mom is another story all together. I tell the story of losing her here, so I won't go into that again. I will tell you that I am almost completely out of my OWN memories of her. I simply just don't remember. I don't remember what her voice sounds like, can't remember her smell. What I do know, is what her laugh sounded like. I can't remotely describe it to you, but having this memory still, 18 years later, tells me one thing. Clearly, she is the reason I have the sense of humor I do. I find the funny in most things, because that is one gene my mom made sure to pass on. Her genes aren't my dominant ones, and compared to my cousins and other family, I look adopted.

She was amazing, would do anything for anyone, and even when she was sick she still made sure everyone else was taken care of.

My dad has never remarried. He's actually only gone on one date. In 18 years. And I'm pretty sure it's because no one will ever compare to my mom. And that speaks volumes of them both.

(Also, my mom kicked me out of Brownies when I was little. That too speaks volumes. Mostly about me though...)

Disclaimer: I Cried Writing This.

I have to tell you this story. And it's not an entertaining one. And it sucks. And I cried. And my heart shattered into a million pieces. And my Zeph, she is growing up too fast, and I hate that she knows that there are real "bad guys" in the world.

Backstory: Paul's brother is deployed to the sandbox right now.

The other night, I mentioned to the girls that their uncle might be coming to our airport soon. Apparently, when I said it, something in Zeph's brain clicked, and she realized she didn't really know WHY her favorite uncle is in the desert. So she asked. And this mommy couldn't come up with a good half truth to tell her, so I told the real truth. Obviously (like in the where babies come from conversation) I only told her what she wanted to know. Letting her ask questions, and answering, instead of just throwing it all at her at once.

So now she knows the story of how, before she was born, some very bad men stole airplanes and flew them into buildings, causing lots of people to die. I told her that we share our military with the other countries to help keep the children and their families safe. I reminded her that we are a military family. Supporting Daddy and Uncle R is how WE help keep those kids safe in the desert.

Her response made the tears I was already holding back spill over, and my heart shatter into a million pieces.

She said:

But I don't want to.

Paybacks are a...

Way back, before I was married and had kids of my own, my cousin Jennie had the only small person our family had inherited in quite some time. The youngest of my first cousins was 12 at the time. Needless to say, Bryce was a wee bit spoiled. It doesn't hurt that he is completely charming. (So spoiled in fact that Brat gave him his own set of keys to play with once because I was being mean and wouldn't let him have mine. And she's not even related.) 

For his first few birthdays, the parties were large gatherings, and of course we all made sure the present pile was taller than he was. On his 2nd birthday (or Christmas, I don't remember which) I found the PERFECT present. A toy drum set. With real metal cymbals. Needless to say, it was not a smash hit with his parents. But I had said, many times before, that I was going to do it. 

Within a couple of weeks, the entire thing was destroyed. Which, for MY sake was probably a good thing. But I don't think I've been forgiven yet.

Today, a package arrived for the Zs. This package contained the normal Easter time stuff Jen sends them. Clothes, stuffed animals, and little baskets full of goodies. But it also contained new weapons. Batons full of sparkles and water. 

Jennie maintains that she bought them because they NEED them. However, I am convinced her methods are  clearly based on the fact that she is out for revenge.

 

I Wanna Know the Secret!

I got this really awesome metal "bag" for Christmas from my cousin. It sits on my kitchen window sill, where every time I see it, it makes me smile. Not only is it simply fantastic, I sent her a handmade tapestry coin purse with the word "chocolat" on it. So, basically, this means we are BOTH full of the awesome, we might be slightly telepathetic as well.

Dude, I'm Getting Old...

This goober in the picture with Big Z turns 9 today. Which is amazing because I've known her since just after she turned 2. Happy Birthday Little Aunt! We love you!!!

Too Much Blood In My Caffeine System

This morning I caught a case of the giggles. And it wasn't because of my children. It was about my cup(s) of coffee. Many moons ago, I used to be a "ton of sugar, extra creamer" kind of coffee drinker. Basically I drank coffee for the caffeine, because it wasn't "cool" to drink soda with breakfast. Then I started dating Paulo. And every couple of months, I would go up to his Grandma and Grandpa's house to visit while he did his Nation Guard weekends. The staple drink at Grandma and Grandpa's is coffee. (In recent years, we've been known to make a pot at midnight. Just sayin') Of course, seeing as no one there used sugar, I had to ask where it was the first few times. However, I have the memory of a gnat, and forgot time and again where it was. In an attempt to make them not find me a giant moron, I stopped putting sugar in my coffee when we were there. I have sinced stopped using sugar in my coffee at all. Funny thing is, is that I'm pretty sure they already knew I am a dork anyway. But it's little things like that, the little changes in life that go unnoticed most of the time. I can't be the only one who changes little things like this, for really silly reasons, can I?

Oh Belated Births...

My life was only sort of changed when Big Z was born. I mean, of course it was drastically different, but caring for a baby is not the most difficult thing I've ever done. Honestly, passing high school Physics is the hardest thing I've ever done. I am one of the lucky women, to whom parenting comes fairly natural. The part of parenting that DID change my life was when I realized that that baby I was taking care of was a PERSON. A real live PERSON. I don't know if I realized this after I took this photo: Or maybe this one: I do know when this one was taken, I had no idea what I was in for as she got older, although, in hind sight I could have figured it out. All I do know is that I realized it before Stacy took this picture the day Little Z was born... In between this picture: And this one: She became a person. A real live person who is helpful... ...a wonderful big sister... ...silly... ......a fierce friend... ...crazily beautiful... ...and my mini me. In the first 5 years of her life, this child has moved more times than I did in the first 20 of mine. She rolls with it, takes what's thrown at her, and tries to make it something better. (Or a weapon of mass destruction depending on her mood.) I may not have loved every minute of her life, and there are days where I wish I could sell her to the gypsies, but I can say that having her around has been one of the greatest adventures of my life.

Happy Birthday Zephina Tamra. I love you.

(And while I am posting this today, her birthday was actually yesterday. I say if she can wait to be born 4 days past her due date, I can wait a day past her birthday to blog about it!)

My Baby Sister...

Little Sister, Bim-Bim, or just Bim, got married two weeks ago. To an Airman. And this last week, they PCSed to Ft Mead. So I think part of the reason that MY PCS has sucked so much, is because hers is going smoothly. They move into their on base house next week, and all I could tell her was I was glad that I was moving into a house before her, or I would never speak to her again. Beacause I'm mean that way!

Isn't she pretty?

***********************************************

We get the keys to our house tonight! (If you are my facebook friend, you have already seen a few pictures.) Which means, the movers come tomorrow, and I get to start unpacking all of the things that were packed up back in April. It has been almost three months since I have seen my "stuff". Oh, how I have missed it! And there is talk of a trip to IKEA next weekend because I may or may not need to pick up some stuff.

Isn't it sad when the highlight of my week is that I might go rug shopping? Some times amongst all the crazy, I forget how boring my life actually is!

I Interrupt This Story, Because I Can...

...

And I do it to tell you my baby sister got married yesterday and I am so proud, and happy, and sad that I couldn't be there...

We love you Bim!

(Will add a picture I stole once I have a more stable internet connection...)

Wordless Wednesday ~ A Moment At the Lake

For more WW go here and here!

Why My Family Likes Me Far Away...

My baby sister's bridal shower is tomorrow afternoon, and being the GOOD relatives we are, my cousins Jen and Bonnie came over tonight to help make some cake balls for the shindig. Bonnie is an Art Education major, so she was in charge of the piping of icing*, even though she had never thought about piping icing in her life. (I'm nice like that.) Everything my family does is hit or miss at first. We learn by trial and error. As Bonnie piped her first flower, from where *I* was standing, it looked like a pot leaf. And I asked her why she was drawing THAT on a shower cake. Turns out, it was a random poinsettia. (Not really, but that's what it looked like at first!)

(This is the notorious pot leaf. I think all our cakes should now have random poinsettias!)

As she went along, she drew another flower, that she decided she hated, and I had to "erase".She was annoyed when we told her to draw simple flowers, and went on a mini tirade about how when SHE draws flowers there is detail and shading and blah blah blah, and she needs a bigger circle if she was going to do a decent flower. My response to that was: "Not if you were really good..."

(The end result! Fabulous!)

*The original plan was to make flowers out of nonpareils, but not one store in this stinkin' town had any! At least the ones that were open anyway!

Conversation I Never Expected...

This weekend we went with Paulo's mom and stepdad and sister to the lake. It was awesome. We had a huge "cabin" (it was really a modular home) and a gorgeous view. There was so many trees and grass! (There isn't a lot of grass in Colorado!) And then, the night we had deer for dinner, my mother in law and I were talking about how she learned that cooking the steaks on bacon was the best way to prepare them. She said (and I quote) "I learned that from Ted Nugent." And I completely lost it, and told her I was telling the internet on her.

Where It Started...

This is the house that my great grandfather built when he and my great grandmother got married sometime around 1919 or so. I love the oldness of it!

I Have A Favorite Word...

I need to ask you, dear friends who live in my computer, for a favor. A favor of good thoughts and prayers and whatever it is you do. My family (a cousin) is dealing with a LOT of crap. And the level of dumbassedness that she is having to deal with is unacceptable. I don't want to go into any details other than it's of the legal kind, and no, she's not the one in legal trouble. But we all could really use the prayers and things. We're not a group of people who deal with dumbassedness well. In fact, I wish it were legal to randomly blow people up. As long as their level of dumbassedness makes being blown up acceptable. Word Of The Day: Dumbassedness

When I was a Dog...

When the Hubs, whose name is Paulo (so I can not type "the hubs" over and over again), and I started dating his little sister had been two for all of one week or so. She talked well for her age. Even if she was really little. (She's going to be taller than I am I think, which will be awesome!) The problem came before she met me though. My lovely (or something) brother in law and Paulo had a dog named "Sara". They had this dog for a long time before they even moved to the town I lived in. (I have decided that her name was not Sara(h) it was Cera. Like the little triceratops in the Land Before Time movies.) For a little while, before I met Paulo's family, his sister thought that he was talking on the phone to the dog. She was the only Sara that existed in her world at the time. Poor thing. Then, however, after I became a semi-permanent part of her life, there was an easy way to distinguish between the two of us. Sara dog. and Sara girlfriend. Sadly Cera dog is no longer with us. She was a great smelly old dog. And I am merely Sara. Because Little Aunt (as she has been known on my blog) is 8. But I am her only sister. So it's all good!

Happy Birthday my hooker!

Jo had a birthday today. And I love telling the Internet on her. I'm still trying to figure out how she and I are related, since our husbands are life partners. (And I touch her boobs for scientific reasons, something one should only do with family!) Happy Birthday!!!

Reason #4,900,778,923...

... that I miss my Gram. On my 25th birthday, she asked us (my entire family, on my mother's side) if we knew the first thing she said when she saw my granddad. Of course we didn't, because no one thinks to ask "Hey, when you first saw Grandpa, what did you say?" Well, here is what she said, and this is a direct quote, because one does not forget something like this. "You know, when your grandpa walked into the factory, I looked at him, and then said to the lady working next to me..."He can put his boots under my bed any day."" **If you read this when I posted it last year, I don't care. It ain't your blog, and you can kiss my grits!**