Letter To A Friend

Tomorrow marks one year since Conrad was killed in Afghanistan. I wrote this letter to Ann, with the intent of making it public. I think it is important for people to see what this life looks like, and to be reminded that there are real faces behind the politics of this war. Courage is a living quality, embodied by good soldiers and their families.

Dear Ann,
I cannot believe it has been a whole year. In some ways, it feels like it all happened
just five minutes ago, and in other ways, it feels like it’s been a lifetime of
pain. Some people may wonder why I would
post such a personal letter in such a public forum. It is easy for many people to move on.
For the family and friends, however, it is not. This is a reminder of the sacrifices made by
you, Conrad and Christopher.
I know Conrad is so proud of you and the strength you have
shown this past year. I am as well. Every day you get up (some days a little
later than others…) and you continue to make a life for you and
Christopher. There have been so many
times when I have felt helpless, and wished I could do more to ease your
burden. It can be hard to find my role
as your friend, as I recognize that no matter what I do, I can never take away
your grief.
You have shown and continue to show remarkable courage. To face each day knowing you will still have
to carry your pain takes courage. You
are blessed with the strength to do this from God, Conrad, your friends and
your family; but you are the one who chooses to take that and use it. Emotional survival is a choice, and you are
making it. Even as I sent my own husband
to Afghanistan, you offered me words of love, hope and support. That takes strength. I love you for it.
In spite of my faith and beliefs in God’s plan for each of
us, I have struggled to make sense of Conrad’s death. It is a process, a journey, for all those
affected by this loss. It seems like
there are times when hope and happiness are a part of your life, and other
times when they are out of reach. I
admire the ways in which you have learned to keep reaching for them, even when
they feel so elusive.
The choice to be a soldier is confusing to many. It is not a prestigious job, the pay is
lousy, and the demand for excellence is high.
True soldiers, who serve well with their heart and soul, are a rare
breed. You are fortunate to have been
married to a true soldier. I know Conrad
loved what he did, and I know you are proud of him. Likewise, a true soldier’s wife is special as
well. Loving someone enough to let them
pursue their dreams, in spite of the personal sacrifice, is hard. You did this.
While there may be frustration and resentment in being a soldier’s wife,
there is also unconditional love and support.
You should feel good about being a strong Army wife.
Life has plans for you and your son. In time, you will find these plans and
embrace them. Hope and happiness will
come more often than grief and sorrow.
There are people who want this for you; let them help. A year is a drop in the bucket of eternity,
and look at how far you’ve come in a year.
Here’s to a continued increase in those things that will help you
heal.
I love you, Ann.

-Andrea

Come Fly Away

I love to travel. I do. I love seeing new things, old familiar things, visiting friends and family... I can't get enough of it.

There is, however, one teeny little problem. I HATE flying. Flying is my mortal enemy. My evil nemesis. A total pain in my rear. Join me in seat 19E, Saturday last, will you, to see exactly why it's so darn crummy.

First of all, we said goodbye to my husband, and then sat and cried in the airport. It was 10pm. Then we walked down to our gate. It was 11pm. My kids go to bed by 8pm. There was some fatigue. We got on the plane, with the Brazilian chapter of the Lions Club. All 47 of them. They were in bright yellow jackets, and completely surrounded us. It was like being trapped in a foreign senior citizens center. Of course there was no deodorant either, and things were getting a little ripe. No worries, though, right? All I have to do is get on board, and we'll all go to sleep...

So I get on board. In my total efforts to spite the airlines, I refuse to check my bags. I pack light. The bags will all fit in the overhead bins, right? Uhhhhh... no. I became that woman. You know... the one who is holding up the line of boarding passengers while trying to punch her suitcase and get it into the compartment? Yeah. Me. My short, bald, and ferociously effeminate flight attendant hands me a gray trash bag and says, "You'll probably need to put a few items in here." At least that's what I think he said. It was hard to hear him over my kids' bickering about who was sitting where. I snatched the bag, probably more harshly than necessary, and started cramming stuff into it, hissing at my kids to sit down and shut up. Not my finest hour, I'll admit. The 30+ passengers waiting behind me will probably admit it too.

We finally get everything situated, lights go out, and I rest my head on my neck pillow, ready for a deep 4 hour sleep. Except, wait a minute! NOT HAPPENING. My kids are all getting their second wind. I force them to turn out their lights and GO TO SLEEP... but the Brazilian Lions Club members are all in full blown sleep apnea. They are literally snoring louder than the engines of the plane. Who can sleep with all that racket? Not my kids! Fine, then. Draw. Quietly. I'm going to sleep. EXCEPT... I'M NOT. Restless Leg Syndrome, anyone? Oh it's a true delight. With the 4.5 inches of space I have, my muscles start twitching, jerking... hell they are practically in full-blown seizure mode. I have to stand up. EXCEPT... my short, bald, ferociously effeminate flight attendant says, "Honey, you have to sit down. The seatbelt sign is on." I have had anxiety for two days, no sleep for equally as long, just sent my man to war, my kids are seriously working my nerves, and YOU ARE TELLING ME I CAN'T STAND UP???

Sadly, he has more authority than I do, and the likelihood of him batting for the other team means no amount of subtle (or pathetically obvious) flirting is going to get me anywhere. So I sit down. We are halfway through the flight at this point, and my youngest decides she is tired. She sprawls out across me and Mika, her head on my lap. But remember, my jimmy leg is in full force. So here's her little head, bouncing up and down while she sleeps. And she's a kicker. So she's kicking Mika while possibly incurring shaken 8 year old syndrome from my spasms.

Anyway. I could go on, but is there really any reason at this point?? You get the idea. The icing on all this, however, is my tendency towards motion sickness. So add nausea to the above scenario, and you've got a feel for what was going on.

Anyone wanna take a trip with me??

It's all worth it once I get to my destination. I'm super fun to vacation with... just not so much fun to travel with.

SAVE MY MARRIAGE.

SERIOUSLY. If you know me, you know I am fiercely competitive. I DESPISE losing. I am actually a very, very sore loser. If you beat me, I will probably ignore you for several days because I can't stomach the bitter loss. Thus it goes without saying that being married to me can be a tricky negotiation. Throw in one subtly competitive husband, and you can imagine that Scrabble gets ugly from time.

So. Here's the thing. My man has been winning our latest round... until I played ROULADE and brought the score to 247-228. I was in the lead. Then he played DIS and was beating me by 3. We were down to the last tiles. I knew he had the Z. I had the Q. Last night, I played "QI" off of the "B" in "BOOGEY". But for some reason, it didn't take. We logged on to play this morning, and my move wasn't there. I was confused, and so I threw the QI up on the board quickly, but I PLAYED IT OFF THE WRONG B! I played it off the B in BOXY.

Are you getting the same heavy knot in your stomach as I did when I realized my mistake? Not only did I forfeit my Q-On-A-Triple-Letter-Square by BOOGEY, but I opened up the triple WORD square for a man with a Z.

I'm not going to lie, people. I cried actual tears. I may have even sworn (and yes, I was hastily chastised by my more mature husband). But COME ON. I'm not saying my intended play would've won me the game. But it sure as HELL wouldn't have given him a chance at 52 points, and it WOULD'VE given me 32 points instead of 17.

So here's the question. He's going to win at this point. In all honestly, I can handle him winning (in spite of what I said about me being a sore loser, I do respect someone who beats me fairly). But I cannot live with a misrepresented score. He was trying to pull the Billy Buckner card on me this morning, but I'm not having it. Therefore, the question I pose to you, my friends, is this:

SHOULD THE FINAL SCORE OF THIS GAME COUNT, OR SHOULD IT BE DISQUALIFIED AS A LEGITIMATE SCORE; FURTHERMORE, SHOULD IT EVER, EVER BE DISCUSSED AGAIN??

Casing Ceremony

WOO! It's been a week! And of course by "a week," I mean "more than your typical 7 days of calendared time."

The battalion cased their colors this week. Before a unit deploys, they hold a special ceremony and basically put their flags away in preparation for the trip overseas. Each company has their own flag, and the battalion has their own as well. "Case" means "put away, like in a little case," and "colors" refers to the flags. This has been your educational military moment of the week.

Because my husband is a leader in his unit, he gets to do important things like stand in the front, and roll up the flag. He makes me so proud.

Really though, it was a very nice ceremony, and I only cried a teeny bit one time. I went up high in the stadium to get a bird's eye shot of all the soldiers, and it was sobering to see them all standing there and think that some of them might not return. But you have to learn how to shut those thoughts off when they come, or they will consume you.

After the ceremony, the local minor league baseball team invited the whole brigade up for a BBQ and night at the game. While it wasn't exactly riveting baseball, we did have fun getting some autographs, eating some BBQ, and hanging out together. It looks like we were the only people there, but we were just the first ones in our seats. The stadium was actually full...eventually...

And of course, a SERIOUS highlight was when we got some screen time. BIG SCREEN time. We were basically famous for 18 seconds.

It's been an eventful week. My relationship with the Army is absolutely a love/hate one. I love the tradition, the strength, the pride, the purpose... but I hate how hard it is to support a soldier. This week, I'm thankful for the family time they have provided us. We have had some really special talks with all of our kids, and have felt peace and love in what should, by all means, be a time of stress and chaos. Finding the good...

A HOLLA To Some Dads I LOVE!

Happy Father's Day...

I have the best dad ever. Seriously. If you think your dad is the awesomest, I'm here to tell you that he can't be, because mine is. If you have a crappy dad, I'm really, really sorry. I will share mine with you.
My dad put up with a LOT in raising me. I was not an easy adolescent. I was selfish, insecure, rebellious, sassy and demanding. I've improved a bit with age, but I have to credit him for much of my success. Something about knowing he believed I could do better actually motivated me to do so. He is patient, generous, and very, very funny.
I love you, Dad. A whole lot.


And then there's this guy... the dad in our house. I'm not sure if I've mentioned before how I feel about him, but, um, basically, I'm head over heels in love with my own little slice of awesomeness.


Today was mostly perfect. With five kids in the house, two of whom consider themselves "daddy's little girl", there was bound to be a bit of jealousy and bickering. But I think we rolled through it. My man called it the best father's day ever. Was it the steaks? The homemade strawberry lemonade? The UNBELIEVABLE lemon cheesecake? (click here for the recipe). Eh, that helped. But it was mostly how much love was poured out all over him.

Imagine if you loved your dad, but you were made to feel guilty for doing so. And now, you're with him on father's day, and you get to share that love with him freely. It was like a floodgate opening. Sam helped me in the kitchen with everything. She practically did the cheesecake on her own. She wanted the day to be perfect for her dad. And Jordan went out of his way to buy him some special presents, with his own money!! So thoughtful.


My kids love their father, and I wouldn't have that any other way. But we are blessed in that they love Skip very much as well. We have our bumps, like any normal family. And we have our extra bumps, like any blended family. But there is no mistaking that there is love in this home, and our kids are sustained by it. It is an answer to many, many prayers, and is the result of consistent, patient effort. I am lucky to have a husband who is willing to be a part of all that. He grew up with no semblance of a parental role model- father or mother. So all of the remarkable talents and qualities he has are because HE CHOSE to develop them. No one taught him to be nurturing, kind, loving, patient, or self-reflecting. He sought after those things, and found them within himself. Instead of following the dysfunction, he chose to become a strong, independent man with a heart of gold. I love him more every day.

Happy, happy fathers day to the wonderful dads who influence my life, and the lives of my children.

An Exercise in Handling Hard Things.

Everyone has something that's hard for them; something you have to do in spite of it being an annoying challenge in your life. Actually, most of us have several hard things. Are you raising a difficult child? Do you resent your husband's job? Do you have conflict with your in-laws? Does your neighbor's dog poop on your lawn? Think about your hard thing. I'm thinking about some of mine. Actually, I'm dwelling them; I have been for a couple of days now. I'm not that super-awesome, well-adjusted person who takes her challenges in stride. I get really consumed with them for a period of time. Then I soul search, rearrange my priorities, read up on what the experts suggest, and THEN tackle the problem. Right now, I'm in the "feel sorry for myself and be annoyed with everyone around me" phase. Sometimes, people advise you to make a list of the good in your life and focus on that. Let's give it a try:

1. My husband is madly in love with me, and almost every time he looks at me, I know he's thinking, "Wow. Love her."

2. Jordan is hilarious. He does the best Napoleon Dynamite impressions, and he keeps me laughing all day long.

3. Mika got a job walking dogs and mowing lawns, and now he is making some money. This means if I need cash, I can hit him up. It also means he can independently fund more of his leisure activities. He's doing awesome in school, and his grades are killer.

4. Sam loves me. She talks to me for hours at a time, and wants to go everywhere with me. This is a huge thing for a step-parent/child relationship.

5. Keola is so proud of moving up to Webelos in Scouts. He is really affectionate lately, holding our hands and being kind and polite to us.

6. Noe and I memorized "Hug of War" by Shel Silverstein, and we say it every night before she goes to bed. It's adorable.

SIDE NOTE: These same 6 people also really work my nerves at any given point during the day. So lest you think I have a quasi-perfect life, let me assure you that they can all be whiny, selfish, snotty little brats. Well, my man is not a whiny, selfish, snotty little brat, but he has a job that Satan himself designed. And I resent it.

So. This was an exercise for me, to see if I could snap myself out of my self-pitying funk and appreciate some of the good in my life. On a scale of 1-10, I'd say its effectiveness was about a 6. I feel somewhat better, but I'm pretty sure if I open the "poor Andrea" door again, all the junk will still be there.... but I'll settle for the score of 6, and go enjoy my family for a bit.

What is your hard thing? And what's one thing you could be grateful for to combat it??

List A and List B, Followed By Pictures

LIST A: What's Making Me Happy Right Now:

1. Summer break from grad school, after earning STRAIGHT A+ grades this semester. Nice.

2. Hearing my step kids say "I Love You, Andrea" and hug me.

3. My kids are still in school, so we're enjoying all those end-of-year activities together.

4. Out of this world ribs we made.

5. The thought of lots of travelling and visiting friends/family this summer.

6. BBQ's with friends.

7. Having so much fun with all our kids.

LIST B: What's Making Me Not Happy Right Now:

1. Only a few weeks until the deployment.

2. Observing certain dysfunctional families and trying to understand how to make them fit into our lives, when really I'm content pretending they don't even exist.

3. One of our children broke the filter on my best portrait lens. (and it wasn't the child you're thinking it was...) Now I have a problem.

4. Fighting with Newport News over $39.60 which I DO NOT OWE THEM but they insist that I do. I hate having to get fierce over the phone.

5. Watching my man recover from oral surgery and having pain and a limited diet. Totally not fun.

And now... some pictures:

A Story

Once there were two brothers, one thirteen, one eight. They shared a deep bond. The younger brother idolized his older brother, and rightfully so. The older boy went out of his way to make the younger one feel as though he were the most important kid in the world. He always had a kind word for his younger brother, and patiently took the time to help him when he struggled. He taught him to spiral a football, ride without training wheels, and use the backboard to make a basket. They were as close as two brothers could be.

And neither of them lived in my house.

We haven't even started summer vacation yet, and I'm already considering selling both to the gypsies. They are so snotty and impatient with each other. Their new thing is mimicking whatever the other says, using a deep yet whiny and obnoxious voice. THEY.ARE.DRIVING.ME.NUTS.

The end.

The Organized Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Structured Tree

You may or may not have noticed by now that I'm a skosh on the Type A side. I mean, I'm generally a likable person, but I truly crave structure and routine. I'm a stickler for natural consequences, and rather consistent about applying them.

Guess what??

So are my kids. Of course, they're also envelope pushers and limit testers, but they understand rules. May I point you to exhibit A:

She stayed up until 9 last night defining her "expectations" for both herself AND the remaining family members. Here, on yellow paper, we see "Parent Expectations", or the rules set forth by the parents:

1. Do not go play or go get ice cream when parents are gone!!!

2. Do not go in backyard (when parents are gone).

3. Read slinlently or play an actvanty slinlently too!

4. Call if in an emergency!

5. If get angry, take belly breathes to 1,2,3 or go to my room.

6. Be kind to others not be mean do not plus say hurt feelings or bad words.

7. Be safe, be respectful, be kind, be responsable ride safely always were a helmet when ride your bike or motor scooter.

8. If someone is coming fast on their bike when a person is riding their bike straight and other going sideway be careful we had a bike crash with Erian and Kamari. Erian got hurt she fell and crash into Kamari then Noe had to go tell Ilyasah, tell about what happened to Erian.

8. If you are riding your bike in the driveway or street, watch out cause cars might be comeing to a person house or to their home.

Follow us at our home or facebook on the web. Noe can do this!

Of course in the name of justice and equity, there is an accompanying sheet of Noe's expectations, or rules she would like to see implemented, spelled out on green paper for your reading convenience:

1. Do not play piano cause hurts my ears or might distract me and my BFF thinking.

2. Stay out BOYSZ! expect Skip, mommy, BFF or a bro or sis or Kamari.

3. Eat nice and play right. Be nice do not be rude, mean or be a bully.

4. Be safe be kind be polite and nice!

5. Ask Noe nicely to play PlayStation.

6. Were helmet to ride our own bike or motor scooter or scooter.

7. Let me take care of something and let me be frist.

8. If don't still understand, ask Mrs. B or A *(that would be me... you can call me Mrs. B, or you can call me A, apparently)

9. I expect everyone to play nicely and put things away apropretly.

10. Follow directions.

So there you have it. Do you think you could survive in our house?? I promise, we're actually a little bit fun in spite of our obsessive ways...

How to Manage the News of a Deployment...

...in Ten Not-So-Easy Steps



My husband left this week for Afghanistan. He's only going for a few weeks, but it's in preparation for a deployment that begins this summer. That one lasts a whole year.

Here's how this works, at least for me.
STEP ONE: Live in denial. Act like it will probably never happen, even though you know damn well it will. Tell no one, and refuse to discuss it with your spouse.

STEP TWO: Cry. Cry all the time. Feel a relentless weight in your chest. Wonder when you will run out of tears. Feel certain that you cannot handle it, and focus only on the potentially worst outcome of sending your husband to a warzone. Incur stress-related physical ailments because of this.

STEP THREE: Finally embrace reality, but do so with anger. Treat him like a leper because clearly, this is his fault. Wonder why he chose this profession, which the whole world views as noble and selfless, but leaves families aching and lonely. Fail to feel the same pride and gratitude the rest of the world bestows upon him so freely.

STEP FOUR: Fight. A lot. Cry some more.

STEP FIVE: Wake up. Recognize how much time you are wasting, and want to do better. Stuff all the negative as far down as you can. Wonder if that's healthy or not, but do it anyway. Realize that the support system you have is remarkable, because, HEY! it includes God.

STEP SIX: Utilize this Divine resource to find strength that you otherwise lack.

STEP SEVEN: Cry some more, just out of habit.

STEP EIGHT: Look for ways to increase the quality of the time you have to spend together. Tell him exactly what you need from him emotionally, in order to deal with everything. Quit being a selfish, whiny little brat. But also acknowledge that you are justified in having been that way, because if you pretend to be something you're not, you will need more therapy.

STEP NINE: Gently remind him, when he is lost in the chaos of his current work life, that you are still here, still wanting to connect, and still a teeny bit panicky inside. Watch him respond like a champ. Thank God for playing a role in that.

STEP TEN: Get ready to set up a How To Survive The Actual Deployment plan. Cry as needed, but add in some smiling as well. Let your friends know that this is going to happen in your life, and that you would love some extra TLC over the next year. Invite them to visit, check in on you, or help you out however they can. Then be willing to accept it when they offer.


So that's it, in a nutshell. There's probably tons more I could add, but for crying out loud, ten steps is already overwhelming to me.

And again, thanks to Christie for actually motivating me to blog. I can find time to blog about anything if I just have to break it down into "how to" steps!

How To Manage Your Pyromaniac Progeny

The other day, my house reeked of Axe cologne. I asked "Why does it smell like Axe in here?" My daughter said, "It smells more like fire to me." As I moved down the hall, I did indeed smell the pungent aroma of freshly lit matches. My boys were playing with matches. They are 12 and 9... absolutely old enough to know better. Here's how to handle the situation:

1. Panic. Recognize that your children are delinquents, and the next likely step in their life is the torture of small animals. Feel overwhelming regret at your failure to have parented better.

2. Use one of your lifelines. I chose the phone-a-friend. Or in this case, text-a-friend. Shally is my lifeline. Your lifeline must be one who has solid parenting skills, will not judge you, and can talk you down off the ledge. She will tell you what you would have told her if the roles were reversed. She will maintain logic and humor while you are panicking.

3. Take her brilliant ideas, combine them with your own, and then begin "FIRE SAFETY TRAINING COURSES" in your home. Read on for instructions on implementing this worthy endeavor.
________________________________________________________

FIRE SAFETY TRAINING COURSES:

1. While you are still semi-consumed with anger and disappointment, you should not interact with your kids. Ensure there are no additional matches at their disposal, and then tell them, "Because I am concerned for the safety of our house, you will need to stay in your rooms until further notice." For us, this was 15 hours. Provide peanut butter and jelly sandwiches if mealtime happens to fall during those hours.

2. Bring your kids out of their rooms. Ask them if they are familiar with "Stop, Drop and Roll." Ask them to demonstrate it. Ask them to demonstrate it again. Ask them to demonstrate it for 40 minutes, because... you know... when they set themselves on fire, it will be a handy skill to have.

3. While they are demonstrating Stop, Drop and Roll, ask them to include 1-2 push-ups in between each demonstration, because... you know... when they set the house on fire, they will need increased upper body strength to possibly carry a family member's body out of the house.

4. Next you will inform your children that you just don't feel safe in your home anymore, what with all this burning and match-lighting going on. But you would feel much safer if you had a fire extinguisher and a fire-escape ladder on hand. Any ideas on how we could acquire these items?

5. Because your children already know how you operate, they will reply, "We have to buy them?" Why yes, yes you do. And because you are a helpful parent, you have already calculated an estimate for them. Said items should run somewhere in the ballpark of $70. 6. Kindly offer your children "opportunities" to earn that money. Some of our opportunities include the following:
-scrubbing the moss off the back yard fence
-doing Mom's Saturday chores
-doing their sister's Saturday chores
-cleaning the garage
-cleaning up after their sister's sleepover party last night (this one might be painful)
-scooping up the dog poop that happened to be deposited on our sidewalk by a neighborhood dog

7. Also remind your children that until you have your fire extinguisher and fire-escape ladder, you just won't feel safe. But they are free to work on earning that money at their own pace.

8. Remind your children that until you feel safe again, it's best for them to remain in their rooms when they are not otherwise occupied with money-earning opportunities.

9. Hold regular fire drills. It's best to do this using the smoke detectors in your home, so the sound is realistic. It's also helpful to wait until after they've gone to bed, because often times, fires occur when people are sleeping. Also, all the studies I've read suggest that regular practice is effective. So make sure that they do get plenty of practice. Sure they'll be sleepy after about day 7, but they'll thank you for it when they know how to escape after they've lit your house on fire.

10. Contact your lifeline and let her know how things turned out. Thank her for helping you remain calm so that you could effectively educate your children, increase the safety of your household, and avoid a complete emotional meltdown involving screaming and guilt trips. My hope is that you never need to use this training. If the need arises, however, remember that taking them to the fire station for a "stern lecture" will probably be fun for them. Don't do that. Showing them pictures of burn victims will probably give them nightmares, which will in turn interrupt your own sleep. Don't do that either. Keep your eye on the goal.

Thanks to Christie, for inspiring the How-To post series.

My Near Brush With Celebrity...

You will recall the slight obsession I have with this man:

Taj Mahal. I've seen him perform a couple of times, and I've debated whether it's appropriate for me to have a crush on him, or if I should instead embrace him as a surrogate grampa. I think outwardly, I'll act familial, but deep down inside, I'm in love with him. So last night I went to the airport to pick up my husband. (Please don't get me started on how this morning, I sent him off yet again, after seeing him for a mere 12 hours. Stupid Army.) We got up there a bit early, so I took the kids to IHOP for a quick meal. We were shown to our table, and there, right at the adjoining table, was someone who looked EXACTLY LIKE Taj. I did a Looney-Toonesque double take, complete with AROOOGA eyeballs, and then I couldn't stop staring. I was painfully aware of my lack of social graces, but I couldn't help it. This poor man saw me doing all this, and it became apparent that I had to say something to explain myself. So what else was I supposed to say? "HAS ANYONE EVER TOLD YOU THAT YOU LOOK EXACTLY LIKE TAJ MAHAL??" I mean, the guy even had on the straw beach hat and the Hawaiian print shirt. He smiled at me and said, "Nope. No one."

"Oh. Well you do," I replied, still grinning like an idiot.

"Maybe that's because I AM Taj Mahal," he said.

"SERIOUSLY? YOU'RE TAJ MAHAL?" At this point, all three of my kids are kneeling on the bench, staring as foolishly as I am.

"Nope. I'm not. I just look like him."

"Oh. Okay."

And now what do you say? I'm still grinning from ear to ear, not sure whether or not I should take a chance and go hug him, lest I miss my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But what if it's not him??

So we four sit down, turn around, and giggle ridiculously while we debate the situation. My kids like Taj Mahal almost as much as I do. I'm sure the poor guy is sitting over there, thoroughly enjoying our idiocy.

He finishes before we do. He comes over to our table, asks us if we're here on vacation. I say no, we're heading to the airport to pick up my husband (JUST IN CASE... if it's NOT Taj, I don't want the guy to think I'm hitting on him... I AM married, after all.) (Although if it WAS Taj, then I kinda DO want him to know that I'd like to hit on him...I mean, in a platonic, familial way, of course...) He says to the kids, "Well you make sure and give him a big hug when you see him. Have a nice evening."

Then he leaves.

Five minutes later, the waiter comes over to our table, and tells us that the gentleman we were just talking to has paid for our meal, and wishes us a lovely evening.

And just like that... he was gone. How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop???? The world may never know.

Happy Birthday to Me!

I know I married a really great guy. Today we celebrated my birthday. He made one of my favorites... his enchiladas. I didn't even really key in when he made three huge pans that it might be a lot of food for our family. He surprised me and invited some friends over!

Of course Ann made the cake, and it was DEEEELISH as always. The kids were so sweet and blew up balloons and put up streamers... Keola gave me 2 of his favorite stuffed animals. Mika bought me four packs of my favorite peppermint gum. Noe cried because she didn't buy me anything. Poor child. Skip gave me a beautiful bracelet, which Mika shamefully announced the price of in front of our guests. Mortifying. I got a few treats from Victoria's Secret. And I had a really great time with everyone.

THANKS for loving me! And celebrating with me! And thanks too for the hundreds of well wishes over on Facebook. It's so great to feel loved. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, INDEED!!

I DID A WEDDING!

I photographed my first wedding. I was really nervous, because if you mess up anything at a wedding, there's no "do-over" or "complimentary re-shoot". But as it turns out, things went well. I have more pictures posted on my Facebook if you care to see them. WOOOO! I'm feeling good about it, but don't really want to do weddings again. Although I have another one in May, for our old babysitter. But that's the last one. For real.

Since Back in tha Day

Tiff and Dawn were my roommates in college. The fact that we are still friends even after they lived with me is a testament to their grace and patience. They are really fantastic women, so much fun to be around, and I LOVE THEM! Dawn, whom you may remember is a marathoning maniac, came here to do her 20th marathon. Yeah. I know. You should click over to her site and read about it. She ran up a mountain in three feet of snow. Frankly, I was wiped driving my minivan down the dirt trail to pick her up, but whatevs. Anyway, because she was coming here, Tiff planned a trip in as well, and we had a really, really great weekend together.

I gotta say, though, the highlight was our brunch before they left. We were at a REALLY fantastic cafe in Seattle, and we were seated right at the bar. We watched the chef making all the meals, and chatted her up a bit just for fun. So eventually, this little wisp of a thing says to us, "So. How do you ladies know each other?" To which we replied, "Oh, college."

Wait for it people...

She said...

"Oh yeah? Where do you guys go to school? U-Dub?"

Yeah. Pretty much we still look like we are college girls, right? RIGHT? My ego blew the roof off that place at that moment. It was huge.

We, of course, informed her that we were a teense older than that, with a combined total of 14 kids between us, and that we usually go to bed at 10:00 on most nights, and um, we're actually... old.

Anyway. I love you girls. We've had some CRAZY times together, most of which will remain locked in a mental vault labeled "Shhhh..." Brandie, we missed you.

We've never done a girls weekend before. All I can say is if you have some girlfriends, you should get away with them once in awhile. It is good for your soul. We are not gossipy, and I love having real, meaningful conversation about things that matter. It is so refreshing!! So call your girlz up, make a date, and make it happen. Totally worth it.