that thing?

i'm just going to jump right into the serious and then make you feel good with some pictures of a baby.

i had a rough weekend in my mind. i was very aware of a few different sins in my life. problems i had created for myself because of them. i just couldn't escape the guilt. fear. anxiety. last night before bed i read the Bible. i opened to Psalms, and read every verse i've ever underlined in Psalms. (that is #1 on a list of reasons why i don't want a new Bible. mine is falling apart, sure, but a new Bible wouldn't have 13 years of underlined verses and notes.)

it's hard to read some of the lovelier verses in the Bible when i'm dealing with sin, because i think "sure. God is a refuge. BUT this is my SIN we're talking about. i'm not being attacked, i'm not a victim. i created this problem." but the Psalms go there.

from Psalm 25...

Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love,
for they are from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth and my rebellious ways;
according to your love remember me,
for you are good, O LORD.
Good and upright is the LORD;
therefore he instructs sinners in his ways.

My eyes are ever on the LORD,
for only he will release my feet from the snare.
Turn to me and be gracious to me,
for I am lonely and afflicted.
The troubles of my heart have multiplied;
free me from my anguish.
Look upon my affliction and my distress
and take away all my sins.

the Word really does wash a person.

then today at work our CD player was broken, so at nap time i had to turn it on a radio station. and the quietest one was a country station. and now i just feel dirty all over again. i cannot stand country music. i'm sorry. i'm not saying those people aren't talented musicians. they absolutely are. they sing beautifully, and play beautifully.

but ugh. say hello to the worst song lyric i've ever heard in my life:

"I remember sayin' I don't care either way
Just as long as he or she is healthy I'm okay
Then the doctor pointed to the corner of the screen
And said, 'You see that thing right there, well you know what that means.'"

then there was the song about the man who held the hand of his wife of fifty years while her heart of gold stopped pumping. why do people find depressing music entertaining? i don't get it. i also don't like the movie "steel magnolias." life is hard enough without spending my free time feeling sad about something that's not real. no thanks.

so how about some baby pictures!!

i thought it would be super fun if i put up pictures of kailey AND my new niece makenna. not as a comparison, no i will not be comparing them. but watch.

the first moment i met kailey (december 2007, 2 weeks old)...




the first moment i met makenna (august 2010, 3 months old)



the first time i held kailey (december 2007)...



the first time i held makenna (august 2010)...



feeding kailey a bottle (may 2008, almost 6 months old)



feeding makenna a bottle (august 2010)




kailey's little feet (december 2007)



makenna's little feet (august 2010)




i love my nieces!!

rich.

yesterday i got back from the big 70th anniversary celebration. those are my adorable grandparents. check out my grandma's tiarra. i think my aunt gave it to her for her 90th birthday a couple years ago, and she decided on her own to whip it out for this occasion.

how do i begin to describe the magic of this weekend?

where phrases like "fine, you can put pants on" and "speaking of quail..." were heard.

where i discovered i have a relative known as the "buzzin cousin."

i guess i'll just start with the story about how my grandparents used to get their farm animals drunk.

i was a little confused about this one. there is a method for preparing the feed for the animals that involves rye, and it eventually ferments. i don't know if it's supposed to do that, but on this occasion, it did. they fed it to the pigs. the pigs lapped it up, began running around in circles, and squealing. my grandma said the next day when they brought the feed out, the pigs wouldn't stop squealing. "i had never seen them so happy!"

there was a cow who was not quite as delighted. my grandpa walked out to find the cow backed up against the fence, as far from the food as possible, with her head hanging on the ground. "we had to milk her right away."

oh, and there was this. my grandma's lawn chair.



seems ordinary enough until you realize it just arrived in the mail one day. or so my grandma says. she didn't order it, or pay for it. it just showed up. my grandpa tried to tell her that "you don't just get lawn chairs in the mail" but she insists that she did.

it's a mystery.

and of course i heard stories i've heard before. about how my dad learned how to walk at 7 months old. or how he was recruited from his sand pile in the backyard to work for a restaurant behind their house, as a "take out the trash" boy. his first job at age 12.

isn't that special.

or about how we're related to alexander hamilton. (we're not, actually, but we're not telling them).

grandma: i got your mom and dad some money, to thank them for all their trouble this weekend.
me: that's really nice of you.
grandma: i'm giving it to them in ten dollar bills. do you know why?
me: because alexander hamilton is on the ten dollar bill.
grandma: yes. aren't you glad we're related to him?
me: i'm so glad.

and then there were the more disturbing pieces of information...

me: so, i know you're the youngest of 12 children. but i can't remember...how many kids were in grandpa's family?
grandma: (darn, she told me, but i forgot already...). but you know, everyone suspected his mom of starving that one baby to death.
me: why did they think that?
grandma: i don't know. she really, really liked your dad.
me: i'm very thankful for that...sounds like a good thing...

it was a fabulous weekend. lots of laughter. lots of baby holding. lots of information. my grandma was engaged to some schlep named albert, before my grandpa. when my grandparents got married, they lived off of $6 a week. my grandma cooked all the food for their wedding. they've lived in the same house for 58 years. my grandpa has miles davis, johnny cash, bob dylan, elvis presley, willie nelson, and others...on vinyl.

pictures of baby makenna tomorrow...

protect your neck.

i started planning a trip to new jersey over labor day weekend.

to see the orange county supertones.

but it's not going to work out.

for at least 4 days, it's all i could think about. you should have seen me sitting here, listening to their music, daydreaming about new jersey. i found a place to stay that is not a hotel. i googled the route. there are A LOT of toll roads on the east side...toll roads are weird.

sigh.

i was in such a strange place since i found out about them. it's hard to explain. i keep saying that. it's like i felt a connection to a part of me that doesn't exist anymore. that's the best i can do.

other news...

i went shopping for a present for my new niece. and my old one.

i was so happy that my little pony, strawberry shortcake, and care bears are making a comeback. but kailey is still too little for that. i really would like her to turn 3, so every toy is not a threat to her life. the choking hazard danger goes away IMMEDIATELY when they turn 3, right?

i ain't no al pacino.

i am terrible at describing things. terrible. whether it's physical pain or a sunset, i can't do it very well.

usually when i have a car problem, i call my dad and he has to work very hard to understand what's wrong. "i don't know, it just sounds weird. like...not the way it should sound. just weird, ok."

come along as i walk you through my internal dialogue on the commute back from work today.

"that...is a weird noise. really weird. what is that. i've never heard anything like that before. not from a car. man, i'm going to have to call my dad and ask him what he thinks. but then he always asks me what it sounds like, and i can never tell him. i have to figure out something to say before i call him. which really should come before any phone call, to anyone, now that i think about it. ugh, that is so weird. it's just on the right side. good! very good! that's probably helpful to know. what does he usually ask? does it sound like it's scraping? no. it does not. what other words are used to describe car noises? squeaking. it's not squeaking. or squealing. this is GOOD. so good. no scraping, squeaking, or squealing. it sounds like air is escaping from something. but..no. it's not. because i've had a couple flat tires, and i KNOW what that sounds like. and feels like. there is nothing wrong with my tires. or my car, really. it's driving fine. SPUTTERING. thats another word. it's not sputtering either. here's a stop light...hm. it's still making that noise...now i'm moving again. it's not louder. so, it is not connected to acceleration or the gas. this is great. of me. not my car. what is that noise?? like something leaking. but not really. it also sounds...watery. like something is leaking air and water at the same time. on the right side. wait. hold on. heh. it's my water bottle."

all that progress for nothing.

other things i can't describe:

the feelings that hit me HARD as i visited the supertones website today. i was looking for something specific that you wouldn't know to look for. i found it. you know that phrase "it hit me like a ton of bricks." that's the closest thing i can think of. but it wasn't bad, or good. i actually pushed myself away from the computer for a minute.

now i'm revisiting their old albums, which i guess i haven't listened to in a long time. longer than i thought.

because i also can't describe what the phrases "all right supertones let's rock" and "add two speakers and a microphone" do to me.

they were more than just a band i listened to. they were distant acquaintances. role models. teachers. influencers. the supertones period of my life encompasses more than music.

i would post lyrics or videos, but you won't know what to feel. or remember. it's weird how feelings can just hit a person. like a ton of bricks.

let me be 16 for a moment.

today something sad happened.

it's going to sound like i'm joking.

but i'm actually sad about this.

a girl i know tagged a picture of me on facebook. the e-mail said the picture was in an album called "supertones 2010."

i would like to refer you to

this post

and scroll down, and read the last bit of text about the last video.

so i went to look at the picture, and sure enough. there were my supertones. on stage. i thought...maybe she just found some old pictures.

but why, why, was the album called "supertones 2010."

terror struck.

i googled.

and discovered.

they had a reunion tour this summer.

the orange county supertones

MY ORANGE COUNTY SUPERTONES

were out there, playing music, without my knowledge.

i don't think you understand. i can't make you understand.

most of the tour was in california. i would have ABSOLUTELY saved money, and gone. by myself. to california. to see the supertones in california...i can't let my mind go there. it has endured enough for one day.

i should have been there, screaming at the top of my lungs, dancing in a way that is only acceptable in a mosh pit, and letting them know...

i. still. love. you.

your music isn't sitting on my shelf, covered in dust. well actually it is, but that's only because i uploaded the songs onto itunes! i brought you with me into the the 21st century. just because you stopped making music, doesn't mean i forgot about you. i could never.

uuuuuggghhhhhh.

elvis shmelvis.

a couple months ago i watched a movie called "cadillac records." it was about a record label in chicago several decades ago. it had this song in it. and highlighted the fact that elvis covered it, and his version was more famous.

a shame. a real shame.

i've also been listening to muddy waters, john lee hooker, and albert king.

my goodness. music isn't made like that anymore.

caliente.

that's from failblog.

things i do not like about august:

- it is the hottest month. i am from texas, and i am used to hot weather. so it's not a shock to my system or anything. but that doesn't mean i enjoy being hot. i hate being cold. i don't hate being hot. but i don't enjoy humidity, or being unable to escape the heat. where i'm from, we have pools. free. pools. you don't have to be a member of a gym to go swim somewhere. each neighborhood has one. that's how you deal with august. but here...there's no way to deal with it.

- because it's so hot, my computer is loud, and slow. it doesn't like being hot.

- a new complaint: i can't exercise at a convenient time, like right after work, because i'd die.

- the children can't go outside. do you know what happens to children when you lock them in a room with each other for 9 hours? bad things. bad things happen.

things i do like about august:

- tomato art festival.

THATS IT.

something happy:

- i just remmebered that earlier i thought "i should listen to some muddy waters later."

so i'm going to go do THAT.

just keeping it real.

i am coveting people's mobility today.

coveting.

i won't let myself look at my running shoes. my beautiful, shiny, orange and pink running shoes. with their comfort, and their support.

lots of people run around where i work, and i'm seriously envious. i can't go run because of my knee injury. i got an issue of runner's world e-mailed to me a few days ago, and couldn't bring myself to read it until today.

but!

it had some suggestions for feet stretches, which i am totally free to do, so i'm going to do those. but we don't talk about feet on this blog.

i talked to a couple friends employed in the medical field, and they have been helpful. one of them is going to show me how to "wrap my knee for compression." they both seem to think that my lack of pain is a good sign. i think i'm annoyed that there is still fluid on my knee, two weeks later. seriously annoyed. apparently i should just give it time. what i want to give it is a sharp jab with a needle, and see what comes out. but i won't. it would be foolish. i know.

i'm going for a test walk this weekend. i am nervous. i don't want my leg to fall off.

i would like to balance all this whining with a list of reasons to be thankful, which is really more like a list of things that could have gone wrong but didn't:

- i was wearing jeans when i fell. which probably prevented me from getting cuts and gashes and stuff.

- i only slid for a few seconds, instead of down the entire path of rocks, which would have landed me in a pool, yes, but a pool full of...more rocks.

- there was a guy in front of me, but he went behind me to help someone else right before i fell. i could have totally wiped him out too. yikes.

- whatever i did to my knee, apparently, could have been much worse. it's not hurting, which would imply torn ligaments or tendons. (i think...i was trying to understand what one of the people taught me about the knee, with a diagram and everything...something about an exploded bursa. my bursa exploded.) it's not red or hot, which would imply infection. i can walk fine, which gives me hope. no problems walking, or squatting, or anything. just a stupid bubble of fluid. stupid bubble.

- i was with a medical someone who knew what to do.

the list goes on, you know. in my mind i'm thanking God for these things, but perhaps that should not just be implied here. thanks, God...

they're mine. be jealous.

my grandparents 70th anniversary party is coming up. everyone is writing down a memory or thoughtful note to put in a scrapbook of some kind. its my goal to bring my grandparents to tears. i want to see sobbing.

this is the letter i wrote. it might be too long. i care not.

background information:

- almost every conversation with them includes a mention of how we are related to alexander hamilton. we are not actually related to him, as my sister found out through research, but they think we are. and they are obsessed with that. obsessed. ten dollar bills are referred to as "grandpa hamiltons."

grab some tissue. if you're not weeping by the end of this, you're dead inside.

As I was trying to figure out what to write for this, I realized that some of my most vivid memories from childhood took place in your house. I remember Grandma picking cucumbers from the backyard, drawing happy faces on them, and calling them our cucumber dolls. I remember Grandpa teaching us how to spin homemade tops in his work shed. I remember writing plays with my sisters in the playroom, and I remember playing George Bush in one of them. I remember playing in your RV, and how much fun it was to just pretend. We did so many simple things at your house, but none of them were ever boring. We didn’t need a TV or a computer to have fun at your house.

I remember listening to the clock in the living room tick as I fell asleep every night. I remember waking up to Grandma making the most delicious biscuits I have ever eaten. I remember how no trip to Oklahoma was complete without dinner at the Golden Corral, and how no trip to the Golden Corral in my hometown was nearly as exciting. I remember listening to you play card games with my parents, late into the night.

I remember how you would always buy us pickles, cottage cheese, and Kicks cereal. I remember telling Dad how I thought you must really like those things, because you always had them. And he told me that you didn’t buy them because you liked them, but because you knew we did. And that’s the kind of thing I love remembering about you. As the years have gone by, I have become more aware of how generous you are. You’re generous in small ways…like buying our favorite kind of cereal, or by sending us money for our birthdays. The small things you do, like cutting out comic strips from the newspaper just to send to me in the mail, mean so much to me. It is a blessing to know I’m always on your mind.

But you’re also generous in big ways. Every time I visit your house, you have neighbors and friends stopping by just to say hello. And I know that’s because over the years you’ve been generous with your time, kindness, thoughtfulness, and love. You have always welcomed people into your home and life. Your 70th anniversary is not just a celebration, but it is an example to me of how to live my life. I hope as I grow older I can learn how to love people the way you do. More people have been blessed during your 70 years of marriage than we will ever know. I hope that we’re able to show you how much you mean to us. I know you talk a lot about how Alexander Hamilton is one of our relatives, and how proud that makes you. But I want you to know I am more proud to call you my Grandparents.

Happy 70th Anniversary!