Revel

I've been away forEVER. My last post said that I wanted to revel in my family. So here goes . . . It is late. Too late. Margo has taken our newest best friend around the block to prove to her that a certain landmark is in fact, this direction from my front porch and not that direction at all. They are both very funny people.

And in this cloud of directional confusion (and especially from my own front porch) I find myself reminded of my True North. Margo sights me.

Wow-Zah

This was waiting for me in my inbox this morning. There was a little note that said, "Can't wait to get home." Me, either.

Jude, thanks for taking the yummiest picture of us ever.

Got Drool?

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We didn't win the lottery. . .

Or did We? (You all remember how I show respect with Capitalization, right?)

Literally, we did not win the Florida Powerball. Not on the 31st or the 7th or the 14th. We just recently started religiously buying lottery tickets. I was inspired by a little story within Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. (If you haven't read it. Do. Right now. For real. GO!) It involves a poor man who goes to the cathedral every day for years begging God to let him win the lottery. Finally, an exasperated God bellows back, "Would you please buy a ticket?!!" I giggled at my own folly and bought a fucking ticket and then another and then another. So far I've won more tickets that didn't win. Hey, it's a start.

Roulette (and Craps) of life - I didn't hit SuperMom when I was born or when I gave birth, I'm ashamed to admit. I did manage Survivor when I broke out of her cell and Tough as Nails when my own babies broke from mine. I figure that I'm beating the house odds which has to be remarkable at this old age of mine. (I turned 31 last weekend, and I'm still waiting for the lightning strike of epiphany that I usually get around my birthday. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. Oh! Crap! Is that the epiphany? My fucking clock!?!)

On the other hand, a FLUSH! (We couldn't possibly qualify as a straight:) - I crack myself up, I swear I do. Like a flush, there doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to our family and then Oh! Right!, they're all wearing the same suit! OK - clearly this has gone on too long.

Look, here it is. My life is great. I've been bitching and moaning and feeling pretty damn sorry for myself. It's total bullshit and I'm a whiny baby and I'm tired of feeling like a charity case that makes excuses after excuses after not doing a damn thing to make anything better.

So there! The lottery draws again on Saturday. What are the chances?

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Think love, love, love . . .please

Dawn's best friend's husband is stationed at Hood. It has of course, been a terrible day for their community. Please push your most loving vibes to them and their friends.

Love, love, love. We do it for love, love, love.

Love, love, love . . .

I'm in the middle. You guys can row.

"They are inseparable. Yesterday, the three of them decided to have a hot peppermint tea party in the middle of the lake while sitting in a canoe and worried that their lives were becoming predictable."

#141

San Diego: Love, Love, Love

Love on a String

Love Reflected

The Love of Family

Sweet Love

True Love

Love that Stands the Test of Time

Refocksa Love

Silly Love

Young Love

I miss you already, Sweet Friends.

How about Christmas on the Beach?

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Lovers Potatoes

Dawn hates potatoes in any form other than french fries. She said she and her brother would dig them from the ground when they were kids and eat them raw. She says they would sneak down to the cellar in the wintertime in North Dakota and eat them raw from the huge pile they kept down there. Maybe she just got her lifetime quota of potatoes before she turned 10.

Because she never ate them as an adult, she also didn't cook them much. She has linked her life with mine, though and my life requires potatoes. Dawn has fed me so many terrible potatoes in her quest to fill my potato needs. She has finally gotten it just right. They are buttery and garlicy and salty and delicious. She calls them Lovers Potatoes.

She loves me and I know it. I've never been surer of anything else.


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More Tide Pool Pictures

Margo takes beautiful pictures. I wish on everything holy that she would do something with this talent, something that makes money, I mean. She's especially good with children. She can get kids to make the perfect face. I also wish I felt more comfortable with showing you examples of those perfect faces but, alas we don't live in a perfect world.

When she posted pictures from the tide pool (speaking of perfect), she left out some of my favorites.

I swear Ray is one of the funniest people that has ever stomped this planet.

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More Funny William

No idea what they were talking about but here it is.


Dawn: Do you think that's cool, William?

William: Yeah. Cooler than Flapjacks.

Dawn: Flapjacks?

William: Yeah. That's how you say pancakes in Spanish.

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Come in, Come in!

Invitation

If you are a dreamer, come in, / If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, / A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . . / If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire / For we have some flax golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in! .Shel Silverstein

Our front door has looked like this since we bought this house a little over 2 years ago. Boring, boring, boring. Very un-us.

Dawn changed that yesterday.



A little backstory first. We, with a lot of help from my mother, bought this house basically blind. It was bulit in 1953 and we are only the second owners. We bought it from the daughter of the previous owners. She had never actually lived here and knew nothing about the house. The disclosure statement was all but blank. We got a great deal.


It's been an adventure. Flooding, vermin, a questionable AC system, to say nothing of the painter who managed to spray the entire house pink.



As Dawn recently told you, it's been a labor of love. I've painted everything that will stand still. We've arranged and rearranged the rooms. We've salvaged shutters, bricks, and furniture. We have poured our life blood into this house to make it our home.



Recently, we thought we were going to have to move to take care of my mom. That may still happen, but for now it's on hold. The joy of staying here for even a little while longer inspired this project.





Dawn painted.



She has a way with trees.

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And painted some more.



This is what it looked like when I got home, sweet home.



We fed and bed the kids, had our dinner and went back out on the porch . . .

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to paint by lamp light. Shut up! I know it's a flashlight, but lamp light is much more romantic.



Isn't our porch cute?

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Dawn's turn again.























Finished project.



A tree house, a free house
A secret you and me house
A high up in the leafy branches
Cozy as can be house


A street house, a neat house
Be sure and wipe your feet house
Is not my kind of house at all -
Let's go live in a tree house.

Shel Silverstein

Red Rover, Red Rover, Anybody want to come over?

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Jiggity Jig

I'm home. I know, it's a little sooner than I anticipated. Dawn's going to have to tell you about that. I'm too tired.

I was only there for about 48 hours, but each one hung heavy. Madison, a northern suburb of Jackson where my mother's house is, has grown up a lot since I left there in 97, so I'm not very comfortable with getting around. All of that was to explain how I ended up at the grocery store .25 mile from my Dad's house instead of the one .25 mile from my mom's house. Honestly that one is only about 2.5 miles from my Dad's house, but every inch counts in this relationship.

I imagined myself alternately as a mouse in a maze and some sort of night-vision-goggle bespecled Special Ops recon scout type. I was armed only with my buggy, a hastily compiled list, and the intense desire to survive a.k.a get the hell out of there with everything on the list and without seeing anyone that I know, or knew as the case certainly is.

I did my dead level best to keep my head down, only lifting my eyes at the top of each aisle to check the item sign and make sure the coast was clear of familiar faces.

By the time I got back to the car and had conned a poor passerby into taking the buggy for me, I was sweating, shaking and hyperventalating. After I wove my way back to my mother's house I opened a beer, lit a cigarette and all but cursed her for forcing me back to this hell-hole of a geographic dot.

God, how I hate Mississippi!

Leave it to my Mom to alienate the last person who gives a rat's ass about her. So I got to come home today. Dawn was happy I was coming, of course. When I got here, she was waiting on the porch with a pair of beers, hanging up with Propane. She had a paint brush in her hand.

Pictures of the complete project tomorrow. If you're prone to vomiting brought on by intense sweetness, skip tomorrow's post.

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2 years

2 years ago today, Dawn and Storm and Faith came home. To stay. William and I went to get them from the airport in the late, humid afternoon. Storm and Faith ran all the way down the terminal. Storm tackled me and Faith tackled her twin. Dawn, weighed down with 2 kids worth of entertainment for an international flight, including 2 carseats, took an eternity to get to me. But when she did, she dropped everything. I'd be lying if I said that she grabbed me first. She, of course, scooped up William and tickled him and turned him upside down and covered him with kisses. Then she grabbed me and enveloped me in a hug remarkably tight for someone who should have been in muscle failure. She picked me up and twirled me around. She looked deep in my eyes while squeezing my face and said, "Take me home."

I confessed this about it just a few days later.

I did once call you my partner.
Strangely enough, I was
Responding to the USO booth lady's
Question,
"Who are you waiting for?"

Seizing my chance though
With great trepidation,
"My partner and my other children."

She politely answered,
"Awww . . . that's nice."
(Though I'm sure she didn't think so.)

I slank (Is that the past tense of
Slink? And if one
Reflects on slinking and so
Requires the past tense, isn't it
Probable that the very act of
Slinking was something else
Entirely?)

Away
As anyone does at the end of
Polite time-passing with
Strangers.

I didn't get to see her see us.


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Don't It Make My Blue Eyes Green

Sorry about the darkness. This is the best version I found on YouTube. Our friend Randi introduced us to this song this weekend. I LOVE IT! It doesn't hurt my love of it that Dawn and I have an ongoing debate about whether her eyes are blue or green. I maintain that she doesn't really get a vote because she's colorblind. She insists that there is no way that everyone has been lying to her her entire life. To which I reply that no one knows her truths like I do. So Shut Up - They're GREEN!

Thursday's Treasures or Things that Make Me Feel Rich

So it's Thursday. Time for Thursday's Treasures, or Things that Make Me Feel Rich. And I'll get to it, but first a little story.

Just a few moments ago, I was reading Ms. Moon's post Brains Baked, Simmered, Fried and Flaked. As usual, I was enthralled and inspired and at home in her words. As usual, I felt like she had given my belly stirrings words, and so told me my own truth. She's amazing. And so as usual, I laughed outloud and Dawn said, "What?" I said, "I'm laughing at Ms. Moon." She said, "What's she up to today?" I said, "She's yelling about people coming to her house to witness." Dawn said, "Witness what?"

Before I go any further let me remind you all that if it weren't for the fact that we share a heart and soul, you would testify that Dawn and I are Polar Opposites. She grew up WAY up there and I, WAY down here. Our political, social and spiritual upbringings were as far removed in content as they were in geography.

So you'll understand the sweet shock that rushed over me when my beloved said, "Witness what?" In the brief seconds that I stayed in my chair, I was hit head-on by how different our beginnings in life were and how amazing it is that we have come together and how glad I am to not be living my old life anymore and how much tangibly better my life is with her in it and so many others out of it.

And so, surprising both Dawn and me, I stood up and quickly moved to her. I took the laundry out of her hands and put my impatient mouth on hers and pushed her down and made love to her right there on the couch in the middle of the afternoon heat.

And I feel rich. And whole. And so very alive.

So here's my list for today.

1. Ms. Moon's laid-bare soul, her wisdom and her truths.

2. NOT living in Mississippi.

3. Having a whole swarm of friends to tell this stuff to and Believing that you really do care.

4. Pandora.com that always manages to play a perfect song. Right now, it's Debbie Comer's version of Crash into Me.

5. The City of Pensacola that puts on fantastic summer activities. Tonight I'm going to play in the fountains with my adorable family while a band serenades us.

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Mystery Solved

Nurture vs. Nature. It's an age-old question, and one that is bound to come up in the lives of my children. Storm and Faith are fathered by the poster child for the American Melting Pot. He most closely identifies as African-American. William and Ray are fathered by a pasty white Brit. Unfortunately, the children don't see them as often as any of us would like because the guys are both in the Army and have spent so much time overseas.

It's an interesting arrangement, no doubt. We get LOTS of questions and avoid many others. My favorite? "Which ones are yours?" And I say, "All of them." And Bitchy Ignoramuses say, "No, I said 'Which of the children are yours?'" And I say, "Yes, Ma'am. And I said, 'All of them.'" And they say, "Oooooooooh!" in a sing-songy way that betrays both their surprise and disapproval. I cut my eyes, smile and twirl Faith's hair around my finger.

So I spend a fair amount of time studying my children. I not only revel in their smiles and squeals and questions and answers; but I LOOK at them. I look for Dawn and Big Storm in Storm and Faith. I look for myself and Jack in William and Ray. Physical features are easy, but still need to be catalouged. The kids like to talk about where their eyes came from and how they got their toes and "who has hair like me." It's also good for the guys, I think. They need to hear about the obvious presence of their DNA when all else fails. Storm looks EXACTLY like Big Storm - perfect smile and Fred Flintstone feet, and William and Ray ARE Jack from the neck down - narrow shoulders and soccer-player legs.

What plagues me, though, are the weird habits and preferences/obsessions. One, in particular, really irks me. I have watched Storm do this for a couple of years now, and have been close to throwing-up for a couple of years now. He twitches his nose and then, with his palm parallel to his face, starts with the tip of his middle finger and rubs his entire hand and forearm up his face. This behavior has been a total mystery to me. I have NEVER, in my entire life, seen anyone else do this. Until tonight.

We found a new-to-us beach dive. Open-air, fresh seafood, good beer on tap, a little band - our kind of place. The kids were playing on the beach and Dawn and I were enjoying a rare moment alone. I was in mid-sentence when her nose started twitching. Her strong, capable hand came up; and as I held my breath and did my best to keep my eyes from popping out of my head, she performed the manuever.

Damn!

That's one less thing I can blame on THEM.

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Imagine My Surprise

My first glimpse of my world this morning was hot pink. Confusing. Upon further inspection the pinkness was also poufy and ruffley. That got me to sit up. A massive smile spread as the brain fog cleared.

My sweet adorable tomboyish Dawn had gotten up in the night and fumbled in the dark for a shirt. She had landed on my shirt which she would never be caught dead in.

She started to stir. I said, "I love your shirt, Baby." She winked a look and smiled a coy smile. She croaked, "Oh, my God."

When she finally got moving around I heard her mumble, "I look ridiculous in ruffles."

Update: Now she's wearing camo pants and a stained t-shirt. That's better.

LOVE the Solar Panels!

*This is not where we chose to install the panel. It ended up on the roof.


It's been 4 days now. The guys said that we wouldn't be able to tell a difference - it would be just like having our regular hot water heater. They were wrong. It's so much better! First of all, the capacity of the new tank is more than double the old one so all 7 of us can bathe on the same day and run the dishwasher. That we couldn't do that before had never struck me as inconvenient - it was just a fact of our lives. After 4 short days, I'm totally spoiled. Clean kids AND clean dishes? Shut up!

The guys had to come back this morning because the inspector said they needed to extend a pipe out to blah blah blah. While they were here, Dawn asked them about a panel to offset some electricity costs. He explained it this way - Our house will use the power gained from the panels first. If we don't use all of that power, Gulf Power, the electric company will give us credit. So actually, while the sun is shining, our neighbors are also running off of our panels. We are basically selling our power to the power company.

As Dawn explained this to me, I got a goofy grin. She actually had to stop talking and lean down to kiss me quickly before continuing. You see, she's my panel. She makes more than enough energy and good vibes, so she powers me also. I am her lucky duck neighbor.

You all have permission to throw up now.

Pictures, as promised

Dawn beat me to writing about our weekend in New Orleans. I guess it's fitting to let the birthday girl tell the tale, but I have the pictures. Read her. Gaze me;)

Free Beer! My favorite kind!

I'm still calling it a GREAT SUCCESS!

18 hours shy of the ETBR (Estimayed Time of Big Reveal) I had to tell Dawn the big secret. Considering that I've had the big secret for over a week and that all the kids knew the big secret, that's pretty good. So like I said, GREAT SUCCESS!

What had happened was . . .I went to the store late yesterday afternoon. When I came back Storm was on the phone with Janie, his first little girlfriend. We LOVE her! Dawn laughed and told me that she had called to ask if he is Filipino. We have no idea why she wanted to know or what led her to believe that. Anyway, Dawn went on to say that she and Janie's mom had planned a playdate (hate that word!) for this afternoon.

FLASHING RED LIGHTS! FLASHING RED LIGHTS! Channel President Clinton's look-you-in-the-face-and-lie-convincingly powers!

That, of course, is not what happened. I stammered, blushed and hid in the fridge until I came out with a half-downed beer. The beer was an Abita, because I was just feeling it, you know? No, you don't know. Just give me a second and it will all become clear. In all but complete panic mode, I put the beer down in front of Dawn and said, "Here's your first clue." Her hands were covered in shrimp juice so she just stared at the beer and kept peeling shrimp and kept talking about the playdate (hate that word!)

After she got the shrimp going and I had worn one of those pacing ditches in the floor, she went to the computer. I peeked around the corner and saw that she was on Abita.com. She got a very confused look on her face and slowly turned around. She saw me before I could snatch my head back around the corner, so I smiled coyly. She said, "Are we going to New Orleans?" I nodded.

Happy? No. Excited? No. Those words don't do her reaction justice. She was both laughing and crying. Spinning me around and a little unsteady on her feet. I let her ramble on about the zoo and the aquarium and all the kid things for a few minutes before I said, "Sans Kids."

Her beautiful green peepers just about popped out of her head.

So get ready for lots of pictures on Monday! Wish us a great weekend and Dawn a Happy Birthday!

Del Mar: The Poor Man's Corona

My Great Love is drunk and blogging. I love her. If there's anything coherent in her post, I'll link it tomorrow.

She sent me to the store for more beer while humming a certain Jimmy Buffet diddy. Can anyone guess which one?:)