Our garden of Eden

We can't get enough of the Huntington Library and the beautiful gardens surrounding it.

Eight years, half a table!

Dear reader,

I hope you will take a minute to appreciate with me this lovely half table. It may not seem significant at first glance, but look again. This humble piece of furniture in our kitchen actually illustrates the key to successful marriage. I don't speak of great food, candlelight dinners, or spontaneous makeout sessions in the kitchen (although all of those would no doubt contribute greatly...)

I speak of the art of compromise. And this table is the epitome of compromise. Wife wanted a table in this spot; husband did not. With no third vote to tip the balance (I've already addressed that problem on this blog) we had to rely on IKEA's brilliance to rescue our gridlock. Half a table. It was the perfect solution. This is just one of many compromises over the years, and we are proud of them all.

Tomorrow we celebrate our anniversary. We are amazed by our years of life together, the additional people on the planet that have come as a result of them, and the fact that two people plus eight years can equal five people, half a table, and a bazillion memories to cherish.

Here's to our eight years, Love. I am grateful for them all, and look forward to a lifetime more.

Unspectacular

You are invited to my Unspectacular Party!!

You will receive no invitation in the mail, let alone a cute or clever one. I will not clean my house before you show up, and the food I serve will be from recipes I can't seem to nail. (If I cook at all...maybe I'll have my party on a Tuesday--dollar day for Chicken McNuggets.) Don't wear anything new or cute, and you'll really be in trouble if it's stylish. If you'd like to bring a dish to share, feel free to bring something bland, burned, or otherwise flopped. Our activities will not be creative or productive and the entertainment will be boring. But really, how can you pass up an opportunity to feel a little more spectacular knowing we all have a little bit of un-spectacular to share with each other!

Here is why I am hosting this party: Within one hour yesterday I cut my finger slicing bread, found my laptop covered in blue marker, discovered pools of runny poop all over the play room, and sent my daughter to a birthday party in a levi skirt stained with berry juice from our morning field trip to the strawberry patch, carrying a present in an old wedding gift bag (keep in mind, I've been married 8 years) stuffed with streamers since I couldn't find the tissue paper. None of this is an exaggeration, unfortunately, so I'm really a great candidate for the hostess position.

But events in Blacksburg, VA yesterday kept my own pitiful day in perspective, reminding me to count my blessings, and be thankful for each moment I'm given. I will humbly take the unspectacular over the incomprehensible, grateful to be planning parties instead of funerals. My heart goes out to those families, as I sign off to take care of my own.

Lucky 13

On October 12th, in the year of the Rat, Adam was many things: a spunky, energetic toddler, a full-sentence speaking whiz, an eagle perched on a blue velvet couch, and a dog with tube sock ears. But one thing he was not (and could not be until I entered the scene the following morning) was a sibling. While my entrance into the world gave him big brother status, his status of big brother made my entrance into the world an exciting ride from the start. Eighteen months to the day apart, we were a team from the beginning. Because we share lucky thirteen birthdays, for his birthday today I share thirteen reasons we are lucky.

1. Not everyone has a little sister with a perfect superman curl on her forehead to cut off with scissors while she is sleeping.
2. Not everyone has a brother who will cut off that perfect superman curl, so that thirty years later, she can pull out a crumpled envelope, saved lovingly over the years, to find inside a small curl of hair that perfectly matches her own daughter’s sweet, young golden brown locks.

3. Not everyone has a little sister who will willingly assist in the grand theft of Fruit Stripe from the grocery store, only to have to return and pay for it when mom discovers two small children squatted low in the back seat of the car chomping large wads of fruity paradise.
4. Not everyone has a brother who will laugh with her at the memory of her first and only theft in life because he was there, just as he was there for every other “first” along the way.

5. Not everyone has a little sister to co-pilot the voyage of a blue Volkswagen Beetle that crushed our beloved tricycle in its path down the driveway.
6. Not everyone has a brother who includes her in such high adventures-- from car wrecks to streaking to outsmarting babysitters, from fields to gullies to horses and ATCs, from mountains and lakes to rock climbing and concerts, from camping and caves to countries and continents that still await…

7. Not everyone has a brother who gives mohawks to her Barbies, then hangs them from nooses for a ransom.
8. Not everyone has a sister who actually thinks this is funny, and tells her six-year-old son (decades later) to consult with Uncle Adam on how to ‘play Barbies’ the man way.

9. Not everyone has a brother who will stay up late into the night almost every single night (through all of HS and some of college too) to talk about anything, everything, and nothing, just because we are friends.
10. Not everyone has a sister who for the rest of her life will remember being night owls together and wonder how she could have had a better friend for all those years.

11. Not everyone has a brother who started playing guitar one day, and never stopped.
12. Not everyone has a sister who knows her brother excels in anything he sets his mind to.

13. Not everyone has a brother who writes her poems on her birthday, tells her he’s proud of who she is, compliments her, thanks her, understands her, and calls her his parallel universe. And that, my friends, is not just luck. It is love, and I am grateful for it.

It's a mom's world afterall

Hi. My name's Cairo. I can't exactly speak my thoughts, but I have them alright. And if you are reading this right now, you get a rare glimpse into them. I've been studying this lady in my life called ma-ma for 16 months now, and I've decided she has really got the life. Here are just a few of the fun things she gets to do every day. Just wait till you hear!

1. Push dirt around the kitchen floor with a bright yellow stick.

2. Operate a loud piece of machinery that sucks up anything in its path.

3. Use burning hot objects that cook food, curl hair, and straighten clothes.

4. Put clothes in a machine that spins them around and around with bubbles everywhere! There's a lot of cool buttons she gets to push, and when the clothes are done, they go in another fun machine. This one you're not gonna believe! They go in wet, and come out warm and dry. How does THAT happen? The best part is when she gets to dump them all over the couch and fold them into really cool piles that she does not want knocked over for some reason. Then she stacks them in this huge basket in a balancing act I can hardly resist--to redistribute until they go back into the cool machine again. Awesome!

5. She also gets to spray colorful liquids all over anything she wants. Blue on the windows, yellow on the counters, purple on the table, orange in the bathrooms. She's got a regular rainbow of spray bottles crammed in the cupboards. Problem is they're all too high for me to get to. That stinks like worms.

6. One of the best things is she gets to eat when she wants and what she wants. No one tells her she can't have a cupcake. No one tells her she has to eat little sliced up pieces of carrots and hot dogs. I think she must be the Queen of this world.

7. One of the wierdest things is when she paints her face. She has lots of fun colors and tools to paint with. When I tried a few of them myself, she just laughed at me, and moved the paint holder far away from me. No one laughs at her for putting things on her eyes and cheeks and lips. Maybe she's the President.

8. She also puts dishes, pans, and silverware into another cool machine that I haven't quite figured out yet. Sometimes she lets me help a little, but she has this thing against me grabbing the knives, which are by FAR the most interesting thing in there. She is one strict lady, I tell ya. Maybe she's a captain.

9. She gets to type on what she calls a computer, and let me tell you how fascinating that thing is. There's 109 buttons to push on the keyboard, (and she doesn't even let me push one!) There's also a mouse to play with, but it's kind of wierd compared to the other mice I've seen. I knock it off the desk whenever I can, but it never runs away or plays with me. The computer has a screen that features anything from pictures to music to games... like anything you could possibly ever want. When I grow up I'm going to have a computer, and I'm going to let MY baby play with it.

10. So that's a lot of cool things my mama gets to do. But my very favorite in all the world is when she holds me, cuddles me, squeezes me, and loves me. She seems to like this alot. That's the one thing I think we see eye to eye on. I'm pretty cute and squishy, so it must be pretty fun to lift me high in the air, bounce me, twirl me, tickle me, sing to me, and take me with her everywhere she goes. All day. Everyday. That must be the highlight of her job.

Maybe you'll hear from me again sometime, but like I said, I'm not supposed to use this computer, and if someone finds out I snuck onto it, my mommy might lose her job. I would NOT want that, and I'm pretty sure she wouldn't either. She has the coolest job I can imagine.

April Fools

When I was born into my family, I was born into a world where April Fool's day is not just a time for cute fibs and jokes, it is a twenty four hour period where deceit becomes an art form, pranks are monumental, trusting anyone is playing with fire, and trumping an attempt at fooling you by fooling someone bigger and better is winning the family's highest level of respect.

It is a day to be on your guard at all times, while masterminding a plot to fool someone else who is also on his or her guard at all times. It is no small task, and not to be taken lightly. We have all been the fool at some point, but we have also had our moments of glory, and year after year, we keep coming back for more.

Our collection of "got ya's" through the years includes such claims to fame as broken bones, bikes, windows, and hearts; crimes, arrests, police officers, and police stations; fines, penalties, lotteries and bombs; crashed cars, stolen cars; hi-jacked cars, and no cars; Canadian officials, NY transfers, Paris temples, and South African coups; old boyfriends, new girlfriends, lost wedding rings and keys; injuries, illness, pregnancies, and prowlers...and that is just the beginning.

Four a.m. is not too early and eleven p.m. is not too late. Any play is fair play, as long as you do play. You snooze, you lose; no prank, you tank. Promising to love, cherish and obey April Fool's day is in our marriage contracts, and our spouses have not let us down. Our children are also learning the trade as they too have been born into a world where April Fool's day is second only to Christmas, and if Santa came down the chimney wearing yellow, he would probably get an extra cookie.

Now quit reading and start plotting. Only 364 days to go...

Upekala

Everyone always wondered what kind of girl it would take for Adam to seal the deal. What it took is a beautiful Sri Lankan Botanist, who is completing her PhD, plays competetive Ultimate Frisbee, and has the right combination of brains, talent, intrigue and individuality to counterpart his own. Happy 30th birthday, Pek. We're counting down to the festivities in Sri Lanka...

morning rules

For a morning person, the phrase "morning rules" could be an opinion, or even an enthusiastic chant (Morning rules!)

For me, the phrase is very literal. I have morning "rules" that if implemented, would help morning be a more palatable experience for me--and in effect, those around me.

Unfortunately, my morning rules can rain on the morning parades of my jubilant morning-person husband, and our two morning-loving sons. (My daughter actually got my genes on this one, and like me, has to climb out of a deep, drowsy state to begrudgingly greet the morning.)

Here's an example of a new morning rule, freshly instituted this morning. When I rolled over to snug up to Brian, in hopes that it was still the middle of the night, he informed me that it was 7am. (Which was actually quite a tolerable time--before daylight savings forced it to come an hour earlier.) Usually by this time, Cairo has already been awake for 30 minutes or more, but this morning he was still sleeping, and I saw a window of opportunity. Brian could get up and get Staten ready while I snuck in twenty minutes more worth of z's. But I fought the instinct and instead got up to get breakfast started and Staten's lunch packed while the boys got ready. When Brian walked in the kitchen to find me "up and at 'em" he started to speak in his upbeat announcer voice to comment on the situation. I stopped him abruptly and proclaimed a new morning rule. "No disc jockey voice before 10 a.m." I went on about how a nice medium tone would better fit my morning mood.

So Brian, being the good sport that he is, called me just after 10 a.m. from work to use his disc jockey voice now that the restricted time frame had passed. (I knew that call would come, by the way.)

He makes a good point that the cloud over my morning shouldn't have to cloud everyone's morning--and he illustrates this well with his standard morning jig, that he and Staten like to taunt us with in the mornings. On a good morning, the girls prove our good humor by dancing along, but on most mornings we are not up for the jig. I haven't made a rule about it yet, but it is inching its way up the list.

So there's the nitty gritty truth. I am a party pooper for the first hour or two of the day. But I do pick up from there, and by 10 p.m., I'm really raring to go. (Or at least I was, before motherhood zapped so much of my energy...)

Anyway, this post is dedicated to morning people everywhere for putting up with morning rules, and non-morning people too, for putting up with morning jigs. And to Brian, for waiting 'til 10 a.m.

today's lucky numbers

Here are today's lucky numbers and why:

26 is the number of laps Staten ran in his Jog-a-thon today!
7 is the number of delicious gourmet cookies we bought to celebrate.
123 is the number of potato bugs we saw on our walk home from school.
1 is the number of pet caterpillars Windsyr is now nurturing.
5 is the number of hours until my date with my handsome husband.

Hope these numbers bring you the same joy they have brought me today.
Now I'll post some pictures from the big event.

On your mark...get set...(always time for a wave)...
And they're OFF!
Water break
Still going!
Proud finish after 45 minute run
Biggest fans

Nothing like an ice pop and good friends to finish it off.

Photobooth faces and pseudo tan P.S.

We are back from an amazing trip to Mammoth which I will document soon. First I will post the weekly edition of photobooth faces--this one's in honor of Shane who got married this past weekend!

Here is a small P.S. on the tanning cream: One of the features I liked is that the tint gives you immediate results so you don't have to wait hours for the tan to appear. The drawback to this, as I have discovered, is that you end up with tanned clothes as well. The solution may be to wait longer before getting dressed, providing you don't mind prancing around your house in the buff for that long.

product picks

This is my 50th post, which is kind of significant, so my entry should probably be more profound than this...but the thing on my mind this morning is products. I love products, and I love recommendations of products, because it saves me the time and hassle to sort through the overwhelming options out there to get to the cream of the crop.

So today I will reccommend a few of my own.

It's been pretty warm here, so out came the shorts yesterday, and with them, a razor and a tube of tinted self-tanning lotion. The razor is one that vibrates. (They make them in several brands now, I think mine is a Venus Vibrance or something like that.) Anyway, I can't tell if the vibrations make for a better shave, but they definitely add drama to the shaving, so I give the razor credit for that.

The self-tanner was Sublime Bronze tinted salf tanning lotion and I am impressed enough that I used it again today. (Which is odd since I will be bundled in ski clothes on a mountain for the next two days, but I guess I am prepping for the jacuzzi at night.) It's hard for me to find self tanners I like, so this is one I may stick to until I can get a real tan.

Next, if you have never tried Mary Kay's microdermabrasion, you are missing out on a truly spa-like facial experience. It's only a two-step process, and takes all of two minutes, but you will be petting your own face for hours afterwards.

One final recommendation for today: Redken's All Soft conditioner. I try and try and try to use cheap shampoo and conditioner, but I am never happy with the results. (This could be the fault of my hair more than the fault of the products, but anway, I eventually throw in the towel and spend a little more to get conditoners that will help me drag a pick through my gnarly mane.) This conditioner is for the hair what microdermabrasion is for the face.

So these are a few products that have gotten me through my morning. Any products you'd like to sing praises to?

polygamy woes

WHY WE'RE GLAD POLYGAMY IS OUT!!
OK, totally tasteless I'm sure. But just wait till you see some of the great photos we've got stored on Photobooth (a Mac application that we are nuts about. And nuts with.)

I hereby declare a taste of the madness weekly. Look for Sunday night specials to come, where we will display some of our photobooth faves.

Here are a few more for your viewing pleasure. (I don't know if pleasure is the right word, but here they are for your viewing nonetheless!)

Grandma Tooey

We interrupt the domestic dishrag debating below to bring you an important announcement.
Today marks the completion of another year in an extraordinary life! We are sending our love to Grandma Teri and have posted our individual birthday wishes in the comment section. You are such a blessing in our lives and the lives of so many who are touched by your teaching, your service, your compassion, and your love.
e-Hugs from all of us!

We need you!

While I am a huge proponent of marriage as a favorable institution, I do find one significant flaw in it. With only two votes in any one decision, it is impossible to win by majority vote when you and your spouse disagree about something. We are currently in need of a tie breaker, so I am handing this one over to you. Speaking of majorities, I know the majority of my blog browsers do not comment. If you can find it in your heart to place a vote on this issue, however, you will save us the cost of a marriage and familiy therapist to settle the dishcloth dispute.

While I favor the more conventional "toss the rag over the sink when not in use" method, my husband has recently decided to hang the cloth from the shelf above to let it breathe instead. While my husband raises an excellent point about the hygenics of airdrying, I can't get past how funny I think it looks to have a dishcloth hanging up there. So here are the specimens for your examination. Please let me know which dishcloth placement you favor. Feel free to vote anonymously if you fear we will black list you for voting in favor of 'the other side.'

And for non-commentors, you don't have to have an account to post a comment, even though it may sound like you do. Just choose anonymous, or type in a username. I'm pretty sure you can leave the account part blank. Happy voting! (Please!!)

Say Cheese!

I'm so glad we eventually figure out the eating thing.

Blog Karma, or, D&D revisited

Visitors: Be sure to visit the revisited post below if you are revisiting and already visited the unrevisited post before the revisit. Thanks for the visit.

What we don't want to lose

We've had flat Stanley (well, Flat A.J.) with us this week so we've photographed some things that might otherwise have gone un-documented. It was a reminder to me of just how thrilling a typical week can be in the life of a child. Being a kid is where it's at. Each day in their life is new and exciting, action packed and full of adventure.

Taking Stanley to school was great, because it was SCHOOL! Do you remember when school was a rite of passage and we had ARRIVED when we made our Kindergarten debut??!! And look what's missing in the picture...a TOOTH! Does it get any cooler than that first gap in your smile?
Then came (brace yourselves for this one...) VALENTINE'S DAY!!! Now I kind of thought it was romantic and zesty to celebrate the love between my hubbub and I. But when my son came home from school with his overflowing box of candy hearts, lollipops, mini-tatoos and special messages from the whole K-gang, I remembered what it felt like to design a special mailbox that would soon hold cargo second only to what Santa brings. I remember painstakingly selecting just the right card with just the right message to give to just the right person. (Gotta say ENOUGH but can't reveal TOO MUCH.) It was an introduction to the complexity--but beauty--of LOVE, and it was good stuff. Heavy, but GOOD.
Then there was the soccer game and the first GOAL scored in this winter season. He was so excited he gave the Toyota jump ("Oh-What-A-Feeling") at least seven times. But this excitement was also fueled by the promise of a CHUCK E. CHEESE token for every good kick in the game. (He needed an incentive to amp the oomph that day, and whether it's good parenting or not, it WORKED!)
The amazing week was topped off by a weekend with Grandma and Papa, which was great-turned-SPECTACULAR when the four of them headed off to a HOTEL for a night. No mom. No dad. No Cairo. Just suitcases, swimming pools, hotel TV, treats, and chilling with g-parents as the "big kids" they felt like. No Ritz-Carlton needed here. It was enough just to GO.
Part of what we gain from children is remembering what we don't want to lose.

Dumb and Dumber--REVISITED

You may have heard these stories on the news today. I can't decide which story illustrates the bigger dimwit. First contestant: the man who snatched a purse from a 67 year old woman in a wheelchair. COME ON!!! Nabbing a purse: Bad. Nabbing a purse from a lady in a wheelchair? Off the charts. Second contestant: The dog groomer who cut off a dog's ear while grooming it, and superglued it back on so the owner wouldn't notice. When the owner found dark spots on the dog's ear, she tried to clean it off, thinking it must be dirt, only to discover the truth of a haircut gone bad. WHAT WAS this groomer thinking??!! And how is it possible people can be such...

Here is the revisited part. Turns out it is bad blog karma for me to point out OTHER people's thinking gone awry. Ever since Marie's comment (who joked any "entries" she could post would be personal stories) I have been flooded by memories of my own, shall we say, less-than-Einstein moments, and here's what I've decided: First, The superglue. There actually could have been some thought behind that move. Doctors often use glue in cuts to help the skin bond, and you can even buy fancy derma-bond to do it yourself, unless of course you'd rather save a few bucks and use the superglue already in your cupboard. So superglue for cuts: Not necessarily dumb. Superglue for entirely severed body parts on dogs: MISDIRECTED.

Now about that purse. How do I excuse this misdeed? I don't. In fact, by saying there is a hierarchy in the world of taking someone else's property, I undermine the fact that taking is simply wrong. It wasn't the age, the purse, or even the wheelchair. It was the "take." Takes can not be ranked in order of how dumb or bad that particular "take" is and to say he was off the charts bad means there can be on the charts bad. And there can't be. So nabbing a purse: Bad. Nabbing a purse from a lady in a wheelchair? Also bad. See how I have been arguing with myself since that post? I suppose since blogs aren't banter back and forth like conversation or instant messaging might be, I am left to philosophize with myself, and you, my friends, are witnessing the result.

There will be no full disclosure of my own monumental moments of madness at this time, but some other time (most likely when it is really late and I am really tired, but wishing my husband wasn't asleep because I'm feeling talkative) you may get some sensational stories. And they will be less about stupidity, and far more about MISDIRECTION. See why I need the good karma?

South Africa

Here are some pictures we received from Grandma Kip who is a missionary in South Africa. The first shows an informal low income settlement, where people live with no electricity or running water. The second shows some of the kids pushing their wire cars, a favorite toy among the children there.

Wildlife

Here is some of the wildlife in South Africa. The elephants, lions, and zebras I expected. The super-sized snails were news to me!!

ZAPPED

This picture was snapped just as Grandma Kippy was leaning through an electric fence trying to get a better picture of tigers lounging in the trees. When she got zapped, the jolt was so strong she thought something huge and heavy had hit her in the head. The electrocution headache lasted for a week, but the picture will always be a reminder of her electrifying experience!

Footh Tairy

That's right folks, no fairy about it. Just one MANLY Footh Tairy making his rounds as we now have one less tooth in the family. You'll notice he's holding his friend the Beaster Unny.

What's in a name?

There is both risk and reward involved when you choose unique names for your children. It is always fun to have conversations with people about our childrens' names and how they got them. But of course we have geared up for a lifetime of misspellings and mispronunciations. Last week was especially fruitful in the name slaughtering department, as our children were called STETSON, WINDSTAR, and KARO. So instead of being namesakes of Staten Island, Windsor Castle and Cairo, Egypt--all places with meaning for my husband and I--they became COLOGNE, A MINIVAN, and CORN SYRUP. Not quite what we had in mind...but no less creative I suppose.

One happy groundhog, two happy birthdays!

EARLY SPRING!!

(Not that the winter's around here are anything to complain about.)

But not to be overshadowed by the GROUNDHOG,


Happy Birthday KATHLEEN!

Yes, the photo of her beautiful family has been replaced, as I've decided the best birthday gift I can give her is a plug for her presidential campaign.




And since Saturday blogging is not my forté, I will also say


Happy Birthday MARIANNE! (tomorrow)
Also sooo beautiful, with a very aptly named dog--BRUTUS!

I miss you friends! Wish I saw you more than once in a blue moon.

Home Improvement MATH

ONE ambitious husband
+
ONE charged up power saw
=
ONE BILLION particles of dust covering a once clean kitchen

and ONE large hole in the wall!

BUT, it's going to be a very cool project when it's done and it's awesome being married to Handy Manny because there is nothing he can't do around the house. Of course finding the time to DO everything is a different math equation altogether and seems to be out of our realm to solve. (That's what we get for avoiding calculus!)

Elvis has left the building!

Cairo's hair was getting just a little out of control. Note the Elvis sideburns. So last night we performed our first ever haircut in the shower (hoping this would keep him confined and somewhat still.) It was a team effort, but we seem to have successfully tamed the mane.
BEFORE:



and............



AFTER:

Living with Fancy Nancy

So this is my daughter's favorite book, and if you know Windsyr, you know she is as fancy as they come. Today she not only dressed up like Fancy Nancy, but she proceeded to post a sign on the fridge inviting us all to lessons on the art of being fancy, just like in the book. (Except it was more like: MrlksTokLJ>KdiwnCFIjlSWPEok.sdp since she can't exactly spell.) So I attended a lesson, and I think you'll see I am much fancier for it.

Last Breath

Tonight I have been thinking about Katie. She was often called Tinkerbell because at four months she weighed a very petite 8 pounds. (Since she was born full-term at 4 pounds, this was actually double her birthweight--pretty much on target for her age.) Despite her tiny size she was healthy and vivacious and just the right feminine addition to her awaiting family of two older brothers and parents thrilled to get their little girl. She had already traveled the California coast, visited the Redwoods and taken in the grandeur of Yosemite. Disneyland was her second home and because she was so tiny, she could nap in the bottom basket of the stroller. She was happy, adorable, and full of personality and life. Until her mom came in to check on her during a nap one day and found her completely white...not breathing at all.

Isn't this every parent's night mare? And my good friend Natalie had to live this nightmare not only in that initial, desperate moment, but in all the numbing moments that were to follow: the call to 911 and the attempt at resuscitation as she was talked through it over the phone; the ride in the ambulance where the paramedics were able to recover a heartbeat; the wait at the hospital where in spite of the heartbeat, Katie was declared brain dead; the slow-motion-like process of paperwork to make her organs available once life support was pulled, and the sad realization that the red tape for 'heart beating donors' made the process TOO long, and the organs no longer usable. (A hard blow for parents who would have liked their baby's death to at least give another parent's child a chance at life.) Then came the whirlwind of planning a funeral, and handling all the mechanical details of death--the death of a life that had just begun.

Katie's funeral and burial took place 700 miles away--and no distance could have kept me from it. But I am sad to report that the funeral was my INTRODUCTION to Katie, in spite of her living only 25 minutes from me. Sure summer is a busy time, and weren't we all traveling and carrying on with summer activities? But the real reason I had not made the time to meet Katie (and take Natalie the baby gift I had kept in my closet for too long) is because I didn't know I had a time limit.

Katie was buried 4 months ago and has now been gone for as long as she was here. The door of her bedroom is closed, and the things inside remain untouched as the array of pink clothes, soft blankets, and little baby things are simply too painful for her mom. It is a huge void that this tiny person leaves, and the ongoing sense of loss and incompleteness in her family-- the gnawing ache of someone missing-- will endure in spite of life "moving on." The first year birthday will never be, the first step will never be taken, the first word never said. No first day of school, no first crush, no prom, no graduation, no wedding, but the memory of Katie will be present through it all.

I ache for Natalie, for her husband, and for the two young brothers who just want to know when Katie is coming back.

And every SINGLE time I pick up my one year old from a night's sleep, or a day's nap, I give thanks that he is breathing, and vow to never take one breath for granted.

Time for a Re-Shoot

This picture is from 2003 and if it weren't electronic, would likely be crinkled, smudged and dusty. It is also outdated since much multiplying and replenishing has taken place in the last 3+ years. I post this picture as bait and declare 2007 the year for recongregating the thirty -something HHSLDSPHD's. (Which would only be Jeff, Bruce and David...so the rest of us can come too. :) Tami, I don't know why you're not in this picture, but it's all the more reason for a re-shoot.