mackin ink

fears...

2012-01-27T09:21:00.008-05:00

it's strange, the list of things-that-probably-will-never-happen-but-that-still-scare-the-britches-off-me. you probably have a similar list, don't you? here are my top five. this morning.

one. wooden stairs and socks.

two. a lion attack out of nowhere.

three. replying to all.

four. piñatas. which is really more about the sticks.

five. when you're leaning over the sink, brushing your teeth, and then you look up at yourself in the mirror and there's a killer in a balaclava standing there. this has only happened once. and it was gracie. but, whoa.

golden bandit bunny. too bad it's sold, bunny! have a sweetheart weekend, you little sweethearts! and if you find yourself forced to run up a dark staircase, just be sure to throw out several donkey-kicks in case there's a murderer chasing behind you. it works. tah-rust me. xoxo.

so this is it...

2012-01-25T13:22:00.003-05:00

it was a sunday morning or maybe saturday, but i remember three things. uncle sugar was looking quite chocolate-lovely on a leather chair with a bon appetit in his hands. i was standing in the kitchen hoping someone would make me something. and then he looked up.

those browns of his, when concerned, gut me every time. and at this moment, he looked very concerned.

kar? we're about to go through a very. bad. period.

every bit of liquid that sloshes through my body rushed to my toes and i thought i'd faint a little. so. this is it. this is how it happens. on a sunday morning or maybe saturday.

he continued, shaking his head in grave apology.

those beans i bought...they're terrible.

liquid back to sloshing as usual.

coffee beans. coffee. beans.

i almost just wrote we need bigger problems, but then i got scared about throwing that out to the universe. so forget that, mister. i will gladly take sub-par and somewhat bitter beans over trouble any day. did i say that loud enough? sigh.

gimme. gimme.

murder...

2012-01-20T11:00:00.000-05:00

so i was picking up my friend's full-length mink the other day...

i could stop there, couldn't i? but i won't.

the place was nice but kind of a hike, and there was a doorbell. i stood there for a moment while the guy inside stared hard at me and i stared hard back at him and that's when i made the decision not to ring the doorbell. they let me in anyway. i think because of my furry mitts from pour porter peeking out.

fur shops are strange to me. i'm not anti-fur or anti-anything, for that matter, but i felt like i was choking in there. it smelled old. and everyone was unattractive, but trying super hard to make you think they were not unattractive. did i just write that? oh, my. i should've stopped at the choking bit.

so they give me my friend's mink, which is the longest most beautiful richest color piece of perfection that kind of made me make the same sound i make when i am cuddling with one of my people. the end.

wait. there's more.

so i walk out of the shop, merrily making my way to my car when i hear FUR! IS! MURDER! and i thought about it in my head as i was walking and agreed. good point. for sure. it is murder. unless the animals in question have already perished. then it's simply serendipitous, yes?

again with the FUR! IS! MURDER!

and i looked at this group of grungy fellows on my right, one with a camera and all looking at me, and i smiled and nodded politely and said something along the lines of it sure is, mister.

and then i looked down. you'd think that my first thought would've been dummy. you're. carrying. a. giant. bag. out. of. a. fur. shop. with. the. name. of. the. fur. shop. emblazoned. across. it. sadly, it was not. my first thought was a hissper to myself they see my mitts!

anyway. i hid my hands under the gigantic mink and smiled my most reassuring, brightest, non-threatening to all animals of the world smile and assured those lovely boys in a bit of a panicked voice that IT'S NOT MINE! IT'S MY FRIEND'S!

i didn't tell them she has others. and i won't tell her what they said, either.

p.s. my friends said i could wear the mink as much as i want before they come to pick it up, with only one rule. i must wear it to lacrosse games while puffing on a filtered ciggie in one hand, a dirty martini in the other. i will be sure to instagram that as soon as it happens. also, for the record, my mitts are not even fur. they're just so darn...furry.

gimme.

wise words from my friend...

2012-01-17T16:48:00.004-05:00

trying to get back here. i am i am. until then, a stashism.

we're not going to talk about this...

2012-01-09T12:30:00.007-05:00

do you even know some of the poor decisions i've made? like, trying to cook a pizza on a wooden pizza peel.

as soon as it started flaming, i stomped my foot and asked the girlies three why the heck would they name it a pizza peel if you couldn't use it to make a pizza?!

their answer included something or other about the basics of fire and flammability. doesn't take much, does it? wood and flame. yep.

i've microwaved metal, even after insane conversations with my brain trying to convince whoever's in charge that it's not so much silver...maybe the microwave won't even notice it.

i never wash my grapes, i seem to always ask when the baby's due when the mom is standing there holding a three-month old, and i continually forget to ask the guy to trim my nails until after he's polished them. can you just...a little bit shorter...it's fine...

it's remarkable. when you say to someone that it's fine and wave away all the it's not fines from the air around you, it usually is fine.

i thought i shouldn't go to alt summit this year because we're moving this summer. this should come as no surprise, but i am not good with time or numbers or deadlines - or at least not as good as i am with creating fires, contained explosions, and uncomfortable situations - because, to me, there's no in-between time. there's now and then there's late. and now, i find that i actually could've spared a few days next week. too late.

{insert a traffic jam of regret right here.}

so, if you're speaking, feel free to facetime me during your chat. i will nod my head and smile at you like you're the smartest little thing in the room. you probably are. and if you're attending, you can do the same; i'll whisper all the right times to clap and encourage you to ask questions. lots of them. and if your name is joslyn and you have a blog called simple lovely, you can call me at midnight and i will call down to the front desk and order you coffee for the morning. at which time, you are to call me once again so we can share a cup of caffeine.

sigh.

the whole point of this post is that i would've worn these tights to the white party.

name calling...

2012-01-06T10:43:00.007-05:00

ages ago in oman, i had a friend who was so awesome. like, swedish supermodel who adored her gorgeous and witty italian husband and her three gorgeous and witty babes and spoke four languages. i still miss hanging out with her. they don't make a lot of women like that in my current neighborhood.

the point of this is that, if she didn't like another woman, she would call her a cow. i thought that was funny and rather mild, and i was always a little shocked when our other international friends would take instant offense. i kind of thought something was lost in translation, do you know?

fast-forward to last night, when grae wouldn't let lillie in front of the bathroom mirror. as an aside, can i tell you that this home is insanely mirror-heavy and there still aren't enough for those girlies three.

and lillie called grae a pig.

{insert brawl here.}

part of me is happy that they're not using the language i hear coming from, say, their busmates' mouths. but the other part of me is taking away their electronics and telly privileges for the weekend. i told them that sisters don't call each other animal names. sisters don't fight. if they don't have each other, they have nothing.

grae shrugged and replied we'll always have esmé.

{insert brawl here.}

have you ever been called a name that set your temper on fire? tell me...

instagram...

2012-01-05T13:32:00.006-05:00

yes, instragram. i don't know how to use it and it seems silly to me but i am such a screamingly visual person that it seems sillier that i not try it out. so i am.

here is my new bauble tree. it's massive and it catches the light so captivatingly in the mornings that i gasp. and i don't even mind that captivatingly is not a word. it should be.

i wish i was a photographer. i do. so does uncle sugar. one christmas in london, he bought me a fancy camera. when he gave it to me, he said something like "now you can be one of those cute ladies who walks around with a camera and takes pictures all the time."

i remember telling him a few minutes later - just after i whipped off the camera strap from around my neck because i thought it was choking the life out of me. i'm claustrophic like that, you know. - that i take better pictures with my words. and that i'd prefer to just look at things hard and write them in my memory. that if he ever wanted to revisit a particular holiday or one of the girlies' sporting events, just ask. i'll tell him the story. heck, i'll even re-enact it as best i can.

{crickets.}

yep. that was a good christmas memory. if you'd like, i can re-enact the look of disgust and disappointment on that guy's face. let me know. because there's no photo.

p.s. and here is my little disco ball.

stealing my breath...

2012-01-02T19:54:00.007-05:00

just a few images that stopped me.

this is what the new year is looking like so far. stunning.

i need to remember this one. needy and homeless, redefined.

and whoa. this is love, yes?

may you have someone or many ones in 2012 and beyond who will always always come after you.

gimme. gimme. gimme.

don't forget...

2011-12-23T16:01:00.005-05:00

you're the biggest gift you can give to someone else.

i know i'm grateful as heck for you. merry days, you little sweethearts. xoxo.

circumstances...

2011-12-21T08:21:00.006-05:00

there are people out there who you might not know that well and you might not see them so often and you probably don't even know their circumstances yet - which is kind of my new word because i feel like we all need circumstances to carry along with us so we can explain ourselves away a little better straight-away, like those people who wear the goofy tees like i'm with stupid or like the girl in lillie's pe class who wears thongs with questions on them, which leads me to worry incessantly about her circumstances, but that's not a story for today. - but it all melts down in your heart to one thought: i like that person.

here's the thing about melissa. i like that person. and when she asked if i'd write a little something for her, i said yes. and then i did a crap job with the writing part.

but here's the thing about melissa. she told me it was perfect. that it made her heart flutter. and i believed her.

i like that person very much.

my gimme bar is so much fun. you can look at all of my gimmes if you click on that hot pink positive on my sidebar.

truth...

2011-12-17T17:44:00.006-05:00

did you have to read that twice? i did, too. but all of a sudden, it makes all the sense in the world.

although i think i'd replace success with happiness.

xoxo from me to you.

last night...

2011-12-13T09:24:00.004-05:00

mondays are tough, yes? i've never been able to fall in love with a monday.

until last night. when i treated her like friday.

we hit pause on homework and writing and studying bahasa indonesian. meandered through shops and didn't listen to the radio in the car and laughed lazily, as if we had all the time in the world together.

we all need unexpected nights like that. they're, like, rare birds that make you gasp when they fly by. finding twenty dollars at the bottom of your bag. the same feeling as a snow day, but better...because you chose it.

we strolled by santa and there was absolutely no line. esmé looked at me and asked if she could go talk to him.

do you think he's the real one? she whispered.

if you feel it, you'll know. i reminded her.

i've always told them to trust their instincts. that believing is so much more wonderful than the alternative. and that santa can't be everywhere at once, so he pops in to malls every so often, serendipitously and luckily for us. and so if we see him and our heart starts to race a little, swell a lot, maybe our eyes water a little? that's him.

anyway. she met santa last night.

later, i was holding her before she fell asleep. someday, i'll be able to do this myself, she told me, kind of in apology.

no rush. no rush at all.

three...

2011-12-12T15:02:00.008-05:00

my mom called late last week. we talked about when she'd get here for the holidays and i tried to convince her to come even earlier and leave way later. like, the day after never. and then she mentioned her mammogram...and...well...how she has to go back.

i just filled up two paragraphs with panic. but there's no need stating the obvious, is there? delete that. instead, i'll tell you something else.

when the girlies three came home from school, i asked them to be extra nice to each other. kindness brings good luck, i think. and then i told them about their grammy and how she needs a little bit of it.

grae - and before i tell you her diagnosis, please remember that she has watched every gross emergency room-ish show on telly, so she clearly is coming at this with a massive yet surprisingly worthless degree of knowledge - is convinced that this little blip has been caused by stress, and promptly vowed to slit the throats of anyone responsible for said stress thrown at her grammy.

i knew she'd make a great physician, but this violent streak makes me wonder if she wouldn't be better off in the mafia.

esmé followed me around for at least ten minutes after she heard the news. oh, great, she said. now you're not going to have a mom. you already don't have a dad or a lin...and with your mom gone, too...you won't have anyone.

i tried listing all the people i do have left and - let's not get ahead of ourselves, esmé! - reminding her that they just want my mom to come back and re-check something that didn't look quite right. that certainly doesn't mean the end, esmé!

but she just looked at me like what are we gonna do, mom? this is life. we're all dying.

note to self: never ever do not ever allow that kid to be a hostage negotiator.

but lillie. that one breaks my heart. as soon as she heard, it was like all her lights went out. just like that.

will she be okay? she asked two days later, with a serious absence of chandelier.

yes, grae answered, definitively.

and she should know. this is nothing compared to the guy with the golf club stuck through his head. even though it feels like everything.

no...

2011-12-08T15:23:00.008-05:00

a good reminder for fighty, peeved little old me.

this shall include but is not limited to moods, eff words, and combative parenting skills. of which i have an abundance.

teasing. i just liked the image. and you. xoxo. also, this is the question, isn't it?

i'll probably regret this one...

2011-12-07T14:16:00.011-05:00

so. last night, lillie's science teacher sends out a class mail. something about people talking too much and not listening to her and could the parents please reinforce zipping it in her class and she'd greatly appreciate it.

i asked lillie about it, and she looked a little confused. the only person i talk to is my teacher...and...maybe the kids around me. but we were taking a test today and i used up all the time in class and i didn't really get a chance to talk to anyone.

i see. so i wrote a little note in return, saying that i was sure lillie was one of the chatters. and, for that, my apologies. that lillie will do her best to zip it. but that what really was important to me is how lill's been studying like a fiend and how self-motivated she's grown and how interested she is. heavy emphasis on interested. and that i hope she's enjoying lillie as much as we do.

lillie read the note over my shoulder. i swear, her chandelier smile would've lit a path from my house to yours. swear.

really? she asked. thank you, mom.

i told her not to let anyone else write her about section. ever. i don't think she understood that at all, but you will, yes?

so the teacher wrote back this morning. said that lillie was, indeed, a too-much talker. that, while lill is a joy to have in class and while she is proud of lill's efforts and interest, she's not a fan of lillie's love for the side conversation.

agreed, i wrote back. a million times over. that we'll work on the chatting, but that i'm quite sure her love of interacting with everyone is a brilliant skill that will come in handy someday. it seems i only need to be concerned with getting her past seventh grade science.

i'm not having it. i couldn't help but push back a little.

all these kids...they're all the same. they're either little hoochie-mamas with low-cut shirts and even lower values, or else they're - as lillie and grae call them - chihuahuas. the kinds of girls who start shaking when anyone even looks at them. the kinds of girls who would never dare talk in class, not to mention stand up for themselves or anyone else. it's painful to me, these girls growing up too, too fast and these chihuahuas.

sometimes i cringe that i have great danes. grae, sometimes, is more pitbull. but that is another story.

which took place the other night at swimming. the team was stretching out by the side of the pool, and one of the girls asked my two why their fins were shorter than everyone else's. before they could answer that they're training fins and much more difficult to use than the longer ones, another little girl piped up and answered for them.

because their parents can't afford the real fins.

as soon as grae told me...well...to make a long story short, i fuh-reaked. so mad i can't even explain it. and then i made it quite clear to her gross and useless father that his child was completely inappropriate and crude. he replied with those fated words - that doesn't sound like my daughter - but that he'd talk to her.

i may have replied be sure you do before i give gracie permission to respond.

and then i flamed uncle sugar. there were a lot of effs involved in that text. and that charmer of mine replied why would you ever care about people like that? that's so unlike you. and if grae can't handle this, she needs to turn in her man card.

i love that guy.

i've come to the realization that i'm a pretty chill person. until it comes to my girlies three. i am beyond disinterested in making people who blend in. who follow. who listen to how others define them and change their definition accordingly. who don't enjoy life, but are scared to death of it. who can't enjoy like heck the person sitting next to them, no matter where in the world they may be sitting. and it seems that i will fight like a dog to make sure that all doesn't happen.

this is probably a problem, but asking me to change is like...asking lill to keep quiet in science. which, i hate to tell you, is probably not going to happen.

images i loved on b for bonnie. and there. i feel better now. thanks for listening.

language...

2011-11-29T10:31:00.007-05:00

i'm so quiet these days, but writing so much more than usual, which is a lot, and none of it's on mackin ink. that feels both funny and as it should be. i seriously need to reinvent this space...i'm thinking that will happen once i move, yes? say yes.

from seriously legal docs to influencing missives to did i really just write that responses to a little mail sent two floors down to my patrick...everything i'm writing these days seems pretty important. like, making little dents in my world important.

i like being a writer. i like being able to write. because on days like this after a few days like that, i see it so clearly: life is all about language, isn't it?

and here i was just telling someone this weekend that i'd love to be a nurse.

grae-rose, however, will someday be a trauma surgeon. that kid is cold as ice. it cracks us up when she offers her medical opinion at the oddest moments. pat fake-earnestly comments "yes. because gracie is a doctor. she's seen every episode of trauma in the ER, you know. plus, 800 pounds and having a baby." as lillie would say, "good lord, gracie" complete with her eye roll. in other news, lillie is charming the pants off me and pat. her english project was one of the most beautiful things i've ever seen...a three-d map of the world with stories about all the places she's seen and lived. it was heart-stopping for me and reinforced why we move around. i always go back to what uncle sugar said when he proposed: "...and we'll have babies and live all over the world so that they understand america's place in it and love her all the more for it." yes to that. and esmé. oh esmé. the other day, i was particularly nice and she looked at me particularly nicely and said "you remind me of your dad." i gasped and said "you never knew my dad." and she smiled with this wisdom and like i knew nothing at all and answered "oh yes i did." these girlies of mine...good lord, right? i want this.

thankful...

2011-11-23T09:49:00.004-05:00

i was writing last night while the girlies were watching x-factor, and i kept reminding them not to fall asleep until josh krajcik performed.

tell me when he's on, i must've yelled ten times.

i could feel esmé rolling her eyes. you're just gonna cry, she warned.

i did. he sang wild horses, which is one of my favorite favorites ever. and explaining it to esmé what it meant in words she could understand...well. if you want meaningful things to mean even more, explain them in simple terms.

couldn't drag me away...damn if i don't feel that way every time i look at this little family of mine.

spending the week with friends and lovely traditions and there might even be a day or two when i lounge at the kitchen island and watch uncle sugar make magic. kidding about the might part. also about the day or two part. it's a four-day weekend, after all, and our fridge is stocked with some pretty brilliant ingredients! xoxo.

bedtime...

2011-11-17T11:54:00.005-05:00

esmé would wholeheartedly agree with this. i would, too, but not remotely in the same way.

potato, potato.

gimme.

a test...

2011-11-15T10:42:00.006-05:00

at some point last night, lillie stopped studying with me for her science exam. which is exactly when grae took over.

it must've been when i ran downstairs to chat with uncle sugar, who was writing a practice essay in bahasa indonesian about...hold me, friends...housemaids. specifically, the hiring of them.

ok. daydream done.

we heard them laughing their heads off for over an hour, and kind of smiled at each other. our lillie and grae and their little sidekick, too, who honestly knows next-to-nothing about diffusion and meiosis and cytokinesis. trust me.

there's a bit of a problem in that all of grae's study prompts begin with a fat kid trying to stuff himself through the door. or cell membrane, as it were. also, the fat kid has an indistinguishable accent; a startlingly gross mix of uneducated, dull, and cockney, if you can imagine. so when lillie gets ready to write out a definition or process, she clears her throat first. kind of like a bad muppet.

lillie may not get an A today, but i guess pat and i are fine with that.

actually, we're more than fine with that.

time...

2011-11-14T10:25:00.006-05:00

do you know how long it takes to tell someone you love them?

whisper that you're sure they hung the moon and stuck on all the stars in perfect pattern? that the sight of them, the sound of them, the sweet smell of them...causes your heart to stop whatever it's doing - no matter how important that doing may be - dropping beats like mad and completely forgetting about everything else except one thing.

zero time. so little time that you can't even find it on a clock. you've got to find it in your heart.

last night, esmé and i were reading. her, this. me, this.

by the way. i write down genius lines from genius books to see what it feels like to write genius lines in genius books. do you ever do that? in this case, i wrote: he forgets that he was someone's dream once, himself.

we shouldn't forget that, should we. it would probably make us a lot nicer to the people who've chosen to be around us. and who keep on choosing us, yes?

so out of the blue, i hear esmé say i love you.

and i smiled so hard. she fills silence with love. check.

i love you, too, mémé, i answered back.

and here's where i know she's going to skate through life with a smile. ooh, she grinned. i was actually talking to wemberly.

and then we both laughed while i stumbled to pick up all my fallen beats. because we both knew she wasn't.

it's been said...

2011-11-11T17:01:00.004-05:00

and i've been agreeing more and more. it's a nice way to live, i think. my girlies three agree.

i was going to post this bit of insight instead, but i wanted something more thoughtful and good for the world to sit here all weekend. not that...oh, never mind.

also, I MISS YOU! all caps means it's for real.

catch you next week, you little sweethearts. xoxo.

backyard bill...

2011-11-04T13:17:00.005-04:00

still killing it. family style.

for some reason, i've been using the words kickass and badass a lot lately. i think that's a sign that things are coming along quite nicely.

in other news, my sister wrote me a mail this morning that made my day. it read, in part, "if you ever killed someone, i'd go on dateline and say you didn't do it."

i hope you have someone who'd lie like that for you. i seriously do. xoxo and have a badass weekend, you little kickass sweethearts.

truth...

2011-11-03T14:22:00.003-04:00

don't you? say yes...

candy...

2011-11-01T10:34:00.008-04:00

esmé's teacher told the class that they could only eat one piece of candy last night. that she'd know whether they had more. you should've seen esmé's smile fade.

she had three. but she didn't enjoy the second and third pieces at all. and this morning, she asked me to look in her eyes and tell me if she looked cracky-crazy. tell the truth, mom. she ordered. super worried.

i'm so tempted to tell her she's allergic to reese's peanut butter cups so that they can all belong to me.

{it very much reminds me of my mom telling me i was allergic to cigarettes, pot, cocaine, any other drug that could possibly come my way in college, and beer and wine and shots boys would someday want to buy me. also, probably premarital sex.}

my heart can't explain what a wonderful halloween we had, so i won't even try. all i will tell you is that i feel hungover-lucky today.

october is always a hard month. it's the month my sister died, and i feel her more as the season changes than any other time of the year. the trick or treating, the rainbow-colored trees, thanksgiving and christmas and new year's coming...it was all her.

the girlies laugh at me because my tears fall so easily this time of year. esmé says i feel sorry for everyone, but i think i just feel sorry for me. i am pretty selfish, you know.

or else maybe i just see what everyone else is enduring, too, and i can feel their feelings in my bones. i prefer that to the whole selfish thing. or maybe i don't.

my sister wrote me a note yesterday and said something about seeing lin in everything lately. she has so many stories that i don't know that i wish she'd start a blog just for me and the girlies three. she's a much better writer than i ever will be {and i am not just saying that. everyone who has read her words knows it like truth.}, but was also blessed with a big fat brain that eats numbers like candy, so she has a real job in chicago. i envy her. she probably envies me.

anyway. have i told you that she was the gracie to my sister lin's lillie? do you understand that? and i am clearly the esmé to them both.

so she wrote a line smack in the middle of a mail that is still killing me.

...when life was good and simple and lin used to ride no-handed down the hill and bite off chunks of green apple and hand them to me mid-bicycle ride so i wouldn't break my capped front teeth.

and wow. if there was ever a definition of love - wild and easy and thoughtless in the most incredibly thoughtful way - to me, that would be it.

p.s. i only wrote today because she asked me to write today. see my gimme bar for photos.

say yes...

2011-10-28T15:13:00.003-04:00

nine thirty last night and lillie and i are two hours into studying for her science exam and only halfway to an a. she wanted me smack next to her and i already hate the day when she no longer wants that so i say yes.

but then she wanted me to make her a coffee. and i say no.

and then? i read this. forwarded it to pat.

and made her a coffee.

try to say yes loads and loads this weekend and make an overflow of good memories. i think it'll matter when we look back on all this, don't you? xoxo.

three reasons why...

2011-10-27T10:16:00.006-04:00

i decided to list three reasons why it's a very good day. already. just to drown out why it's probably not.

i made pad thai for dinner last night, and i'm still smiling about that this morning. you guys! you know i'm completely disinterested in dinner and also that i specialize in two ingredients or less! and the best part is that both grae and uncle sugar - my two chopped champions - gobbled. it. up. and both of them talked about it again this morning!

happy chair dance.

also in last night news, we went on a halloween errand and smiled the entire time. in party city. that is a feat.

we were standing in a sea of crabbing kids and parents, and lillie and grae were just quietly picking out vampire teeth and bloody gauze and deciding that, yes, grae did need the hockey mask and, no, lillie did not need the false eyelashes. hers are long enough, grae determined. and lillie was pleased. and esmé held my hand the entire time.

our smiles carried us out to the parking lot, where we saw the. most. adorable. grandma. in. the. entire. universe. i seriously melted a little and made a wish on a foggy star that i'd turn out just like that.

mmmm, lill murmured wonderfully. she looks like iris apfel.

my girl.

for the past two days, i've seen my sister in every beautiful moment that's come my way. it's strange and it makes me cough and smile brighter than i should.

it's in the kiss that esmé gives to lillie's belly with the wish that she has a gweat day. it's how lillie stops. just stops. when she sees how soulfully esmé draws these days. it's in the middle of a brawl over shoelaces with lill out-of-the-blue telling grae take 'em. they're shoelaces. i'd rather have you.

pat always asks me what i want. i love that he's still curious. but wish lists always make me a little sad, don't they? i feel like, write down everything you've lost so far under the heading things i've lost so far. and then cross out that heading and write in its place, my wish list.

same list, yes?

i tell my girls all the time that i'd trade every damn thing in this house for one more christmas with my sister. they look around and see a lot of stuff. and understand, i think.

there. three reasons why it's a very good day already. see above. all of which could also be replaced with three very lovely girls.

same list.

two additional things that make me happy: she is back and she is where she is supposed to be. xoxo.

you're your mom...

2011-10-25T09:17:00.007-04:00

if you ask lillie a question like where did you get that? or what is that? or even what's up lill? she'll sweetly and devilishly answer your mom! with a delightful mike ditka-esque accent.

public school is such a charming breeding ground for sketchy linguistics.

last night, we were writing a paper for lillie - a group effort requiring frequent breaks to see who can leap on one foot the farthest or shred a piece of paper with one ninja hi-yah! - and trying to memorize all the words to this. she had a bit of leftover neon pink frosting on her tank from the giant cupcake cake we'd made after lacrosse, and esmé asked what's that?

and there comes the chandelier smile. your mom!

i'd had it. got all frowny and muttered that doesn't even look like me, lillie.

esmé is picking up every little thing her big sisters do and say. sort of.

this morning when i asked what she was eating for breakfast, she whirled around and tried to hide her forkful of cupcake cake, pointed to me and yelled you're mom!

yes. that's more like it.

notes to self...

2011-10-20T11:08:00.010-04:00

i do not personally subscribe to this theory.

i've always forever believed in kissing whenever you feel like kissing. thank god i was so homely in middle school and no one took me up on it.

lillie and grae came home the other day just crawling up our front steps, doubled over with laughter. MOM! they called, snorting with giggles. LISTEN TO THIS!

it took ages, but they finally spilled the stories of a girl who wrote her boyfriend a love letter that included the phrase "i'm gonna make ur life miserable." he broke up with her ten minutes later.

and another sweet young thing who wrote anonymously to a boy she likes, "hey, babe. you looked sexy last night from the bushes outside of your house."

ummm. i'm going to teach a class, i think. how to write love letters that don't make the recipients hate you. or call the police. something like this.

i told the girlies to never ever not ever write a note to someone they like {and this should only happen in college, by the way} without running it by me for creative edits. they have no idea the goldmine they hit with me as their mom. i can't do much, but i can write about love. they'll appreciate this someday, i bet.

also, don't get me started on college applications. can i write their essays?

my sister just sent me...

2011-10-18T14:27:00.007-04:00

straight back to a time when i wasn't online for one single second during the day. not one.

i sat next to these two little things and arranged dollhouse furniture, watched mulan at least ten million times, and made picket signs for their barbies. it was the only way i'd let them play with barbies...if they were conscious barbies.

we stayed in our pajamas all day until five minutes before the very moment uncle sugar walked through the door. and we gasped the minute we saw him.

and then this little smidge came along.

i'm sometimes afraid that i'm not as good of a mom anymore. like, i'm really no longer that mom-on-the-floor. i write a lot. a lot a lot. and if i'm not writing, i worry about writing and being a better writer for my clients. i'm over-scheduled and disorganized in the most organized way and i stink at bedtimes unless bedtimes are yelling contests. because then i would win. and i'm not sure i remember often enough to gasp when uncle sugar walks through the door.

i should gasp when that boy walks through the door. i should.

i say it all the time, but life gets so in the way of life, doesn't it?

thank you, jeje, for sending my babies back to me. xoxo

language...

2011-10-17T09:04:00.007-04:00

there's too much to tell you, which always overwhelms me to the point that i don't tell you a single thing of import.

i just spent the morning reading mails from a new faraway friend who's been sending me pics of her faraway home which may be mine, soon. not the exact home, but probably the same architecture and batik and lush gardens. i like beginning the week with a healthy dose of wanderlust.

i bought these and these for the girlies, plus a set of six shades of brown in the most velvety-soft pencils i've ever felt...so that lillie could do a self-portrait accurately. they like to draw before bedtime, and i am all about a few quiet moments before bedtime. that is usually just prior to the moments when i am screaming brush your teeth! and shush it, lillie!

last night, lillie was making - what are they called? - an acrostic? where you write your name and then describe yourself with words beginning with all of the letters in your name? of course, she began with lovely. it's true. and then...well, then...

grae walked by and asked, "what's incedible?" {pronounced in-seed-able, fyi.}

lillie rolled her eyes and corrected with disdain, "incredible."

grae shook her head and suggested a dictionary. plus maybe an r. because as it stood, lill was incedible.

uncle sugar is learning a new language, and is just at the beginning stages of speaking. he has a little vocabulary app on his iPad, which pronounces the words in a woman's voice. i WISH WISH WISH i could let you hear a recording of his first few words. so high-pitched and adorable that i still crack up when i remember it. he has since ditched the lady voice and learned a much...manlier...way of speaking bahasa indonesian.

esmé, as you know by now, is pretty effusive. and she says things like "i very want to go there." and "i very like that girl." things like that.

the other day, pat corrected her speech, which he rarely does. fwee and teef were just fine for ages because we both kind of feel that language, among other developmental things, are organic. they'll come when they come. or, at least, one of us still feels that way.

but on this day, he edited her. "it's i really want to go there or i very much want to go there. not i very want to go there."

i looked at him like he was crazypants. "why are you correcting her?" i wondered.

and he kind of snapped back "because i currently speak like a three year old in bahasa indonesian. and it's driving me insane."

poor thing. he's not really used to being anything less than incedible.

happy monday, you little sweethearts. i feel like it's already started well. hope i didn't just jinx it for us. oh! one more thing that made me laugh really hard this weekend. whenever pat sees something i've bought, either for dinner or for the house, and i'm unusually excited about it, he nods like he's supremely interested and then asks "did you get it at a garage sale?" gets me every time with its unexpected {insert proper synonym for jackass} quality, doesn't it? all photos from my gimme bar.

gimme...

2011-10-12T08:09:00.004-04:00

this broke my heart into a million...

and then i thought of at least three people for whom the reverse is true. haven't seen them in three years, but it seems like a day. and i do not believe that to be a compliment. whoops.

is pinterest as much fun as my gimme bar? it just seems so...crowded..over there. and every time someone new follows me on my fake pinterest account, i make an eep face and feel bad that i've never dipped a toe into those waters. sigh. i do swim upstream. and it's giving me a headache. do you love pinteresting? should i try it? tell me tell me, please.

she's open for business...

2011-10-11T08:29:00.004-04:00

i really, genuinely like this girl. she's smart, well-read, kind beyond belief, and her blog is one of the prettiest - while being the coolest - around.

years ago...YEARS!...i begged her to open a shoppe and sell me one of her monkey prints. they didn't exactly exist at all, but they were three monkeys hanging from a chandelier at the tippy top of her blog, and i wanted a massive copy for my girlies three.

{this was when esmé was going through her monkey stage. much less to do with her antics and way more to do with the shape of her mouth and the way she walked.}

these lucite stamps are my fave. i'm buying three. so my monkeys can be a little more civilized.

enjoy her shop. and buy something. you'll get it in a little wooden keepsake box and you'll gasp and say something like "oh, karey was right. she is cool." you probably won't say the karey part, but you will be pleased. promise. xoxo.

i am missing you...

2011-10-10T09:57:00.004-04:00

that is pretty much all true, and the only real content of this post. life is getting in the way of me and you.

the girlies and i pushed pause a few times this weekend and cuddled in front of some movies while uncle sugar opened up an italian restaurant in our kitchen. instead of insidious, we watched bill cunningham new york. they were dubious at best as we watched the first few seconds, but then? they fell in love.

his is a good story. i like how he's lived it.

and then a revisit with babies. old news, but worthwhile to the max. i love to see which babies and from what corner of the world are my girlies' faves. {hint: they are not fans of the san fran family!}

are you watching anything good? reading anything better? i am in need of some inspiration. xoxo and happy week.

hi...

2011-10-04T09:27:00.004-04:00

there are weeks when i just want to hang with my girlies and listen to their every story and tell them all of mine and run three miles a day and think harder about dinner far earlier than, say, six thirty and read lucky peach cover to cover and research indonesia like mad and make tennis dates and not write a single word.

this is one of those weeks.

little things are happening here and there and in between. esmé rearranged lillie and grae's bedroom last night like a shop. there's a jewelry display, a shoe section with uggs and chucks and vans and cleats, a clear mascara bar, bags and totes...it's pretty amazing.

of course, the girls have some edits. they're not pleased with their under-britches on display and organized by color of polka dots. minor change.

you know what's been on my mind? i asked them to name their all-time favorite places to live. only one of them answered here. i thought about that all night, and probably over-thought it as i usually do.

is it too simplistic to believe that where you are right now should be your favorite place? and is it sad if it isn't? you know how i worry...

there are also weeks when all i want to do is wear low cut dresses. those weeks are fun, too.

it's happening...

2011-09-30T08:16:00.008-04:00

when i tell my girlies to stop doing something they may not necessarily want to stop doing, they usually have distinctly different responses.

lillie's is a scowl, raised eyebrows, and a no. i wish you could hear the way she says it. i would very much like to see if the sound of her no makes your insides all boiled.

grae has a different tactic. she plays the martyr. why?! i do everything around here. everything! be sure to pronounce everything with a six-syllable wail.

esmé's a little different. say that i tell her to stop painting her nails on the persian. she turns and looks at me with wide blues and a little o of a mouth and answers it's happening. like she's on a coaster and can't possibly stop.

no more brown sugar in your oats.

mom? it's happening.

do not crack that egg!

mommy! it's happening!

she turned six yesterday. she was convinced it would be the most magical day of her short little life, and we tried our best to make it so.

the pile of six presents were perfect. she stopped for a second before she opened them and told us she was so happy that we were her family. that she had the best parents in the world and the best sisters in the world and she was just...happy. really really really really happy. just...

ok, sally field. you may open your presents now.

my mom says that mémé really knows how to work the system. i find that funny. true, but funny. i mean, it's not like she's in prison, charming the warden for more mashed potatoes.

a few days earlier, uncle sugar measured her. he marked the wall about two inches short of her actual height. we measured her again on her birthday after cake, and she felt like a giant.

exactly how a freshly-six should feel.

the night before, i'd begged her not to fall asleep. i was dead serious, and i can't believe i was. the way my heart was skipping beats surprised even me.

i guess i couldn't bear the thought of her going to bed five. waking up six. even now, it still makes my stomach clench. like i'm on a coaster and can't possibly stop.

don't go to sleep yet, mémé, i begged. one more five-year old kiss.

mom, she murmured. it's happening.

i know it is.

images here. and i can't BELIEVE how sweet you were with your comments about our photos. like, i feel pink and at a loss for words and super awkward. you're nice. i hope someone gives you really good compliments this weekend. i'll start. your legs look skinny in those jeans. there. xoxo.

one afternoon...

2011-09-28T09:03:00.013-04:00

it was time for her to take pictures of the girlies three again. this time, she convinced me to smile for a few, too.

all she had to say was "the girlies will want pictures of you when they grow up..."

gulp. you know what that means.

anyway. here are a few.

grae's one year younger than lillie-kate, but a whole lot taller. do not mention this to lillie, please.

you know how i always talk about lillie's chandelier smile? here it is.

we kind of lost it there at the end, yes?

if you've never had professional photos taken of your family, i'd hella recommend it. you know me. i hate hate hate having my picture taken. hate. plus an extra hate. but beyond the obvious - that there should be some sort of record of you sharing some moments with your babes - hiring someone to meet you at a park or a museum or a nursery in full bloom {as we did} is a really fun experience.

bonus points if you can get amie to be your photographer. after every few shots, she'd review the photos and gasp. like, gleefully. like, she'd gotten us. i think she totally did. even though i hate photos of myself. did i mention that already? xo

gifts...

2011-09-27T11:00:00.004-04:00

smack in the middle of buying a million for our last birthday girlie of the month. phrew.

in two days, she'll be six. or, as she likes to say it, half of my gracie.

i showed this to the girlies last night, and they're considering it for next year. i'm considering it for a random day in october.

nothing else is new, i guess. except that i stayed up with lillie kate until eleven last night, working on her application for america's got talent. she's not exactly sure of what her act will be. she just knows she has talent.

the introvert in me is dying a little. a lot a little.

but someday, in some interview, someone's going to ask her if her parents were supportive of her art. her craft. her talent.

and i want her to be able to say yes.

someone someday is also going to ask esmé about one of the worst mornings of her life. and she may remember this one. the day she dumped electric blue nail polish in the guest bath toilet. i smell like equal parts polish remover and irate. this is not my usual scent. sweet tuesday to you, you little sweethearts. xoxo.

currently...

2011-09-22T09:47:00.005-04:00

here is why i love my lillie kate.

she made a rocket ship for her science class. it may or may not work. but. she spray-painted it a glittery gold that ombrés into hot pink at its cute base. currently, i am trying my best to remove the swarovski crystals she hot-glued all over the thing.

because grae told her that swarovski crystals tend to affect a rocket ship's speed as well as the distance it can travel. both of which affect lillie's grade.

currently, esmé wears her nerd glasses everywhere. even to her kindergarten class pictures. she told me she pretends she can read way better in them. when i suggested she focus her energy on reading better and dropping the pretending, she stared at me blankly.

but at least she looked smart while doing so.

a big weekend's coming up for us, and i fear we're over-scheduled for the next few weeks and well into november. currently, my heart is racing with calendar-based issues. there are two hummingbirds that come into view on our back deck every day while i'm writing, though, and they remind me that as much and as fast as i'm trying to get things done? those hummingbirds put it all into perspective. i don't know how, exactly, but they just do. xoxo, you sweet things. catch you next week. yes, i'm pretending today's friday. you weren't supposed to notice that.

in case you're wondering...

2011-09-20T08:58:00.006-04:00

billionaire is much easier to get out of a persian carpet than, say, chancer. in my experience.

but, as the dental hygienist mentioned to esmé yesterday, chancer is pretty easy to pick from her teeth. when asked if she bites her nails, my girl smiled, shook her head, and brightly chirped "my sister, gracie, bites her nails and she is my role model and i do everything she does. except i do not like justin beaver."

speaking of my grae-girl, she turns a dozen tomorrow. did you just hear me sigh?

funny thing about my gracie. she is the queen of goodbyes. she must kiss me ten times before bed. yell out that she loves me as many times as soon as she's under her covers. she kisses me goodbye in the drop-off lane at school. when i'm headed out for a run. when i'm going to the grocery. before and after lacrosse. she kisses me goodbye in front of no one and in front of everyone and in front of anyone.

in case you're wondering, grae-rose's shy pink lip stain is very hard to remove from my cheeks. but, then, i've never really tried.

here and here.

words...

2011-09-19T12:50:00.007-04:00

i wrote so much last week that i used up all of my words. i didn't even have any of my nonsense ones left, so you know it was bad. by friday, i was blurry and foggy and really only interesting after a glass or two of a lovely riesling. and by interesting, i mean only to myself.

i'd gone on a long run. it was the first day of chill and the day after i'd met all my deadlines really really well, and i was smiling. until the cold air hit me. remember where i broke my nose? right there went the air like an ice pick. i don't know what an ice pick is, but it sounds like something that could stab you deeply between your eyes and ice up the left side of your head until you bend over dizzily on the side of the road.

passers-by probably thought i was exhausted from running. i was just trying not to spill my stomach. you say tomato, i say tomato.

{have i ever told you about my favorite talent show entry of my entire life? a guy auditioning for a broadway show, asked to sing this song. he'd never heard it before, so imagine how hilarious the first reading would be! am i alone on this one? say no. say you're giggling, too.}

i've got to get myself fixed. the left of me is killing me.

anyway. back to interesting conversations. i enjoyed many this weekend, and it was nice. {ummm. have i ever told you i'm a writer? sorry about that.}

mémé is beginning to be interested in being interesting; she is now conscious of adding substance to a conversation, even if it is a lie. among this weekend's gems are "if you're about to sneeze and yawn at the same time, the yawn will always win." maybe. "my teacher said i shouldn't come back to school. ever. i've met my potential." doubtful. "her mom's pregnant. she is." awkward. "i don't think you can come to my birthday party. my mom thinks your mom is weird." ugh.

speaking of interesting - or lack thereof - i'm thinking...thinking...of branching out beyond all-black clothing all the time. my closet was so dark this morning that i actually stomped my foot and declared "i can't see any of my clothes in this dark!"

mémé and pat looked at me like i was crazy. and then she said "you can't see black in black."

truth.

what color should i choose first? i'm thinking charcoal. is that not a bold enough leap? what colors are you wearing...will you tell me? xoxo. also thinking of going gold. i! know! who am i?!

look-alikes...

2011-09-14T09:44:00.003-04:00

uncle sugar was wondering why i had this photo on my inspiration board.

i told him that little bits of each of them reminded me of him. he gave me that look he usually gives me after i speak, and i just knew what he was going to say.

kar? he said, walking away. "i'm not a rapper."

about an hour later, he and lill were busting out all the lyrics to the message. someone's in denial, yes?

does your love look like someone famous? also, i think it's a compliment when i tell pat he looks like a blend of mos def, common, and picasso, don't you? found here.

clorox...

2011-09-12T21:10:00.014-04:00

my mom always tsks me and tells me i am a surface-cleaner. that is a step up from what i've long believed myself to be. which is a non-cleaner.

those of you who've read me for even one second know of my love for full-time housemaids; they make cleaning super fun and almost bearable. and ever since we've moved back to the states, friends and lovely strangers alike have encouraged me to enlist the services of a weekly or a monthly maid service.

but that is not what i need. i need a daily maid service. which is apparently quite the expense here in virginia. is it like that where you live, as well?

to me, the greatest luxury is coming home at any minute of any day to a home that smells like home. and, to me, home smells like clorox bleach.

sure, we've had our moments. clorox bleach does not like to be friends with other cleaners. why should she be? she is more than enough on her own. this was a difficult lesson to learn, but at least my home smelled like home when i regained consciousness. forgiven.

as long as i can remember, from young to now, clorox has been my choice. i trust it. it was my mom's choice, my mother-in-law's choice, and the choice of every clean person i've met in between.

it is now my middle girlie's choice, too. because when i opened my gift from the clorox company yesterday, grae-rose squealed. and that is the last i saw of my gift from the clorox company.

"mom! pack my lunch in one of these tomorrow!" she opened up the wipes, smelled them like she was in heaven - and, in fact, exclaimed "heaven!" - then promptly packed them in the side pocket of her backpack. the brita bottle earned a sing-song "brita!" as she danced to the faucet to fill it. and then packed that away, as well.

"who sent those to you?" she asked later.

"the clorox company," i answered.

"mmm. i like their stuff. it all smells like grammy's house."

told you.

you should see the salads i sent with lillie and grae today. also, to grae's sixth grade classmates, you're welcome for sending my girl to school armed with wipes that kill cold and flu viruses. my apologies, though, for how many times grae is going to clean you and your stuff. also, many thanks to dailybuzz moms tastemaker program for connecting me to clorox. i chose the pics for this post - all found here - because they all read clean to me. but why picasso? i don't know, exactly, but i love him and i bet he loved clorox, too.

surprise...

2011-09-11T21:22:00.010-04:00

this sassy little sugar britches won the give-away from sheyna jewelry. which kind of worries me.

i mean, her winning comment was a petite bit threatening. she's planning on making a piece of jewelry that will make me jealous. she even swore that i'd rue the day i said i hated gold. i think she even raised one clenched fist when she was writing her comment.

but i'm not scared of a genius piece of gold. neither is sheyna. hope you enjoy your gift, lauren! can't wait to see what you make. besides me giggle.

be back in a bit with more...i'm in the middle of some deadlines and need to throw all of my best words elsewhere. not that i've been throwing good ones down here lately, yes?

not like these. that was a funny story, wasn't it?

gimme bar. love it.

currently...

2011-09-09T09:16:00.011-04:00

esmé unearthed a box of pictures from lillie and grae's first few years, and is currently devastated.

you had a fun life without me! she wailed, as she usually does on thursday nights when i'm not watching the bedtime deadline as closely as i do on, say, monday and tuesday. you told me your life was empty without me, but that's not true! you had fun without me!

there followed a mess of reassurances, but none as lovely as the one that came from lillie.

we had rainbows, but we couldn't ever see all the colors. as soon as you came, we got indigo and violet.

currently, lillie and grae are being quite competitive with each other in middle school. but it's not how you would think. not at all. they're trying to win the embarrass your sister contest.

a few days ago, lillie walked into grae's study hall and announced she was gracie's sister. and that gracie rocks! apparently, her voice was very deep. so yesterday, grae walked into the seventh grade locker bank and announced in what could only be described as her southern male PE coach voice that i'm lillie mackin's sister! yeah! i believe she even raised the roof and gave her signature swim team woop-woop!

i think grae is winning this one. but it's friday. and lillie loses her mind a little on fridays.

while grae recounted this insanity to me after school...oh...you should've seen lill's chandelier smile.

currently, i am bright pink. i just got home from the middle school because lillie remembered to bring her guitar but totally forgot her math, science, and language arts binders. a dad who had obviously just rolled out of bed and who was driving a hummer {i don't know why that is an important detail. it's probably not.} held open the door for us.

we were really far away, though, esmé and i, so we kind of had to hurry to get to him. which i think is wrong. i hate hurrying just to be polite. and also? this is a high-security school. they have methods in place so randoms don't just walk in.

how did he know i wasn't a random?

i wish i had asked that. i really do. because what came out of my mouth instead was how do you know i'm not a child killer?

i. know.

and he replied why would you say something like that? you're horrible. that is the wrong thing to say.

gulp.

i. know. that. mister. but you made me hurry and i didn't think and...

so currently, i am pinked. make that red. bright.

esmé suggested something maybe i need to remember more often. mom? sometimes it's important to just be polite and say thank you instead of something weird.

i. know.

have a nice weekend. i wish you'd do something awfully embarrassing to make me feel better. that's what a real friend would do, you know. and hey! picking the winner tomorrow morning, so you still have all day to leave a comment here for a sweet and cool gift from sheyna! xoxo. look at my gimme bar, will you? i've collected all these pictures...

two reminders...

2011-09-08T12:13:00.006-04:00

one for me and one for you.

this one's for you. i want you to win because that site is so much flipping fun. promise.

and this one's for me.

because my lillie kate is me. all me, one hundred percent, except for her chocolate colors and techie ways.

some days, it's frustrating how me she is. because i want her to be better.

i could kiss banksy right about now.

james face...

2011-09-07T09:30:00.002-04:00

i can't stop laughing about this. i just can't, can you?

and then i was led to this...

for me, it's exspecially instead of especially. drives me mad. you'd be surprised at the mass of functioning adults who say this. and candy corn eaters. that's a new one i invented just now. because i bought a bag of it with high hopes that they would taste like...fall...but they taste like plastic sugar.

while i'm being honest with you, can i mention that i also bought spaghettios and white bread that says italian on it? because otherwise, you wouldn't know it was italian. ugh.

do you ever do this at the change of season? buy nonsense and faux comfort food that was never really comfort food in the first place?

sigh.

oh, cookie crisp cereal with chocolate rice krispies as a chaser...i love you but you kind of embarrassed me at the checkout.

finish the sentence, will you? i love you but...

all found via her. and don't forget to enter to win a forty dollar gift card from sheyna!

sheyna...

2011-09-05T10:52:00.008-04:00

one of the coolest things happened as a direct result of my whining about wanting to be a jewelry designer. or maybe because of my weekly wrist posts {which have been lagging due to my broken canon. sob.} or maybe even because i outed myself as a never ever not in forever wearer of gold.

sheyna to the rescue.

they suggested i try their site. design my own bracelet and see if i, in fact, really do want to be a jewelry designer. and while i was at it, why didn't i try gold? just to see...

i. loved. it. all.

and so i asked if you could try, too.

and they replied with exclamation points and yesses and a forty dollar gift certificate for one of you to try out sheyna for yourself. design anything: earrings, a bracelet, a necklace...anything!

next time, i'm so making mismatched earrings.

here's what you need to do to win: leave a comment and tell me if you've followed sheyna on twitter and/or facebook - extra points if you've followed them on both! - and i'll choose a winner randomly at the end of the week.

i'm excited about this, aren't you? say yes. now go follow sheyna and win something pretty, please? xoxo. also, a really lovely book about purpose and our special place in the world, i think. and i'll be back soon with my repaired canon to show you my new bracelet on my wrist!

thirteen...

2011-09-02T10:31:00.004-04:00

mémé and i are in charge of the cupcakes. lillie gave us a bunch of instructions and colors and flavors, but we both lost our head in the cake mix aisle. it happens to the best of us.

i picked up a box of gorgeous gaily-striped candles, tossed them in my basket, and that is when everything stopped. my heart included.

i need two boxes of candles for my lillie now, i whispered.

and mémé looked at me and i looked back at her and we both smiled extra large to distract from the puddles and she asked if i was going to cry and i outright lied and said no. that would be silly to be crying in the cake mix aisle.

but then i changed my mind about that. because lillie is worth my tears no matter when and no matter where.

nothing silly about that at all.

my lillie katie. happy thirteenth. you are perfect seemed appropriate for you.

just a story...

2011-09-01T08:15:00.006-04:00

i'm going to cry, i already miss our summer so much. it was our best yet, without being much of anything at all. which is pretty remarkable if you think about it.

but it's also one september, which means the beginning of our girlies' birthday month. and fall is coming, which means i can guarantee there will be a jug of cider in my fridge by next week. and i'm not cold anymore. even when i am.

i've said it before, and i'll say it again...i'm very much looking forward to forward.

did i tell you about esmé's first day of school? no kiss. no hug. no goodbye. she raced right in and threw her arms around her teachers. one of them pronounced her name like ez-mee, and i saw mémé wave her hand and say "it's fine. you can just call me ess-may. it's fine."

she's been saying that a lot lately, especially after she does something horrible to someone or something. "it's fine."

it seriously works. you should try it.

this morning, she told me she wanted to hit pause on school for the day. too much learning and not enough play, apparently. she saw me hesitate just before i answered "we can't do that, babe." and jumped right in with a wave of her hand and an extra vehement "it's fine." just in case.

it would be, i bet. the thought of that little thing growing up guts me to no end.

the other night, she asked why we don't live with grammy. i explained that, when i married her dad, we bought a home together.

"but don't you miss her?" she asked. "how do you fall asleep without her?"

i thought about it for a second or two, and probably should've thought about it a little longer, but i told her that there comes a moment in every girl's life when she decides she wants to fall asleep with someone else.

and then she turned over and fell asleep. but not until after she wailed for about five minutes and reprimanded me for telling the worst. stories. ever. invented.

i'm telling you. i'm so much better on paper.

i joined gimme bar. i love gimme bar. i don't know how in the world you'd follow me or whatever, but my collections are under mackinink. if that helps.

google...

2011-08-30T09:27:00.003-04:00

also, i whisper pee, arr, enn, dee when i shift my car into drive. i hum and chair dance when i eat candy, haven't ever used a screwdriver without uttering the words leftie loosie rightie tightie, and when the man yesterday was explaining how to use my brand new water heater, my eyes glazed over and i waved my hand and asked "uhh. can i google this?"

he shook his head like he was trying to shake me out of it and repeated "there's nothing to google, ma'am. i just said to wait about thirty minutes before you use it or else maybe the water won't be as warm as you'd like it to be."

hmph. he made it sound way less technical the second time.

i think i'm not getting proper sleep. do you ever have bad dreams? i have them all. the. time. practically every night. always about not being able to save one of my babies in the water. like, tsunami water.

i wonder if it would help if i took swimming lessons? maybe a lifesaving course? i'm a little desperate.

if you have tips about how to not have nightmares, share them with me? i think i may also need a dream translator.

perhaps i shall google one.

cute text found here.

pancakes...

2011-08-29T08:23:00.005-04:00

first morning of school for the girlies three, all. my pancakes seemed to be perfect for once.

golden and light and a little underdone in the middle.

and i felt, for the first time in a very very very long forever, pleased. like, content. equal parts proud and excited and looking forward to...forward.

you know i've struggled being back here in the states. i've tried and tried to climb my way out of it. i have. albeit with large portions of whining, but i've tried.

but then it gets cold again. and then there's something else to clean. but mostly it gets cold again. and just when i find my footing, i lose a little ground. it happens this way every time.

this morning, it's not about the pancakes. it's about a summer when i stopped and enjoyed my time here. i didn't work as much, i didn't clean as much, and i didn't schedule anything at all.

and do you know what's so funny? the girlies never once asked for a play-date this summer. not one. they were happy being...happy. together.

i can't find words to really tell you how i feel this morning. but there's one word that's everything i'm not feeling.

regret.

let me enjoy this until lill's dean calls me to tell me that, yes, lillie's shorts are a little too short for school. either that, or her legs are a little too long. don't even get me started on grae's hot pink lipgloss. i always feel a bit braggy when i tell you how well things are going. however. just in case any of you are feeling lost or cold, i thought it might be nice to know it takes about two and a half years to warm up again and find yourself. maybe less, but certainly no more. and truthfully, the pancakes weren't all that great. photo from here-ish.

still shaken, still stirred...

2011-08-25T08:36:00.005-04:00

the girlies three haven't let me out of their sight since our little earthquake. this is so strange; they're normally so resistant.

i have to be honest. i'm a bit disappointed in them.

doesn't that sound awful?! i know. i feel like the worst mother right now.

it's just...

these are girls who tried to sneak up behind our armed guards every morning before school and every afternoon when they came home. always an edgy prank when they pulled it in the pitch black of night. these are girls who walk into new schools leaning forward. they translate different as beautiful. they are ready for everything.

they love change. they were built for adventure. they are naughty and thuggish and irreverent and hella polite and comfortable in their own skin and braver on a daily basis than most adults i've met.

and now they are scared of the earth rumbling again.

i don't understand it. i don't. so all i can do is let them follow me around, i guess, and hope this memory fades.

the good news is that my sister-in-law told them there are lots of earthquakes happening where we're set to move next summer. so that's awesome.

to distract their horror, i told them about the active volcano.

in my attempt to try to figure out how to end this post, the only thing i figured out is that this is probably only the beginning. ugh. have a sweet day, you little sweethearts. if you need me, i'll be with my lillie, my grae, and this little wildebeest that's magnetized to my side. this tattoo reminds me of why i scrawled patrick's name on the top of my foot in the first place. thy word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. kind of the same meaning. kind of.

the shakes...

2011-08-24T08:31:00.007-04:00

as mémé would say, we're sleepy as daisies around here.

she also uses the state of daisies to describe how clean something is, how easy something is, how decidedly yummy something is, how fast of a runner her grae-girl is...somehow, it works.

yesterday was just a day. we all have them, yes? the earthquake shook our souls, and news of lill and grae's former teacher's sudden and devastating loss broke our hearts. in between that, i forgot to not be an impatient and irritable arse.

everything shattered around bedtime. it's funny how you can see all the cracks at night, isn't it?

lillie started it with an odd apology to grae that sounded something like if we have another earthquake and my bunk collapses on you...i'm sorry.

which is how grae ended up in our bed and how i ended up in her bottom bunk. at midnight.

before this midnight happening, though, i overheard esmé in the bathroom. brushing her teeth and sobbing, a mess of tears and toothpaste.

why did that baby have to die? she wailed. she was so brand new!

i don't have answers for questions like these. maybe no one really does. so i tried to explain that all the best people in the world? god wants them back. some way earlier than others.

that this little girl must've been so damn perfect that he decided her time here was enough. maybe she was promoted to head angel in charge of watching over and loving all the new babies in the world. maybe he thought she'd be perfect to whisper reassurances in the ears of nervous almost-moms. or maybe she could just be.

we sat there and thought of at least ten things she's probably doing right now. and none of them had anything to do with being sick. doctor's appointments. or her mom's crushed heart.

it almost sounds kind of nice, esmé whispered through wobbly, minted lips.

no. it really doesn't, i thought.

it's probably why russ frangella is still alive, she suggested. god doesn't want that guy around.

{for those of you who aren't familiar with russ frangella, he is an eighty-something pisser of a man from my hometown who was on one side of a construction project years and years ago. my dad was on the other side. which meant russ frangella's side was going nowhere. this was when my dad had cancer, and everyone but us knew he was at the end of his fight. so russ frangella all of a sudden backed off and told everyone "we just need to wait a month. he won't be around after that." i've never forgiven him for this. to the point that whenever the girlies and i go home, i drive by his house and honk the horn if he's outside so that he has to whip his old toothless head around, much to the glee of my naughty girlies three. i am vindictive, i guess. he also makes these wooden benches and paints them in cheery colors and then tries to sell them from his front lawn. i've not yet mustered up the courage to replace his FOR SALE signs with FREE FOR HAULING. yet.}

yes, well...i wasn't sure what to tell her about why russ frangella isn't yet in heaven.

that man is mean as a daisy.

some days, i just want to fly away. this is one of them. feathers found here.

whirl...

2011-08-23T09:46:00.008-04:00

esmé: i don't want to grow up.

me: oh, no! why not?! growing up is the most fantastic thing ever!

esmé: because i don't know what i want to be.

me: oh, that. over-rated. what you're going to be matters so much less than who you're going to be. and, man, mémé...you're already one of the most wonderful little whos i've ever met.

esmé: ok, then. i'll grow up for you. but i still don't know what i want to be.

me: just promise me two things, mé. be happy. and do something that'll save the world.

long pause, during which i'm certain her heart and soul are overflowing with that mother-of-the-year advice. i mean, if this was a movie about esmé saving the world, this...this...would be the opening scene, yes?

esmé: what whale?

sigh.

me: world.

esmé: you want me to save world the whale?

this conversation makes much more sense if you read it out loud and pronounce world and whale so similarly that you can't tell the difference between them.

if it helps, they both sound like whirl.

images found here and here.

i like...

2011-08-22T09:21:00.010-04:00

i asked grae what she does when she has writer's block. that cute thing had no idea writer's block even existed.

after i explained the condition brilliantly, she dead-faced me and recapped. so. writers sometimes lose their words? and find themselves...unable to...write?

well. when you put it like that.

does this ever happen to surgeons?

i could see her crossing off writer on her list of possible career paths. it does sound kind of lame.

lillie came to my rescue, because that is what she does.

i just write what makes me happy.

so while grae dead-faces us both, i guess i'll start there.

things that make me happy. by karey m.

these shoes.

i usually distrust this contrived pose and all her siblings, from the super-model can't-be-bothered-to-smile-no-matter-how-happy-i-am pout to the oh! am i taking my own picture again? head tilt, but i feel that these feet have...soul. forgiven.

i like rewriting something important for uncle sugar, and then having him shake his head and tell me kar...you should be doing this for people. i remind him that i am doing this for people. that, in fact, he is a people. but still, he shakes his head and tells me no. bigger than this.

i like it when there's mad faith in a room, don't you?

i like finding a beautiful drawing of a moon by my lillie kate. with you hung this in her awful handwriting.

i like how this picture makes me catch my breath.

do you ever wish you created something-anything that made someone else somewhere in the world gasp? i do, too. every day.

i like it that esmé wants to name her someday daughter canary. i like how she feels sorry for my mom that she doesn't have my dad anymore. i like how she tells pat he's her favorite and then winks at me. {remember this? her winks still crack me up.}

i like when one of my three favorite faraway sisters gets outstanding news about her oldest babe after a supremely frightening moment. i like it that her guardian angel was taking care of her. and his namesake.

i like beginning a monday with like. this was a good idea for me.

i am a big fan of like, you know. i've always believed liking someone is far more important than loving them. because love is once and forever, in my mind. once you've fallen deeply, it's pretty impossible to climb back out.

like, though, is a minute-to-minute act. i think it's much harder.

i was telling one of my faves the other day that marriage boils down to this: waking up every day and liking the person next to you. and then spending the rest of the day showing it.

off to do just that.

happy monday, you little sweethearts. all from here.

send me...

2011-08-19T10:33:00.004-04:00

esmé overheard me saying something about being unplugged, and gasped.

but how will you turn back on? she asked worriedly.

simple. i waved her worry away. inspiration never fails.

so...do you have any?

i've missed every post that would definitely make me drool. every sentence that would make me wish i'd written it. some wristful of lovelies i'll surely covet. something that's changed you. anything that's made you.

i'd love it all.

send 'em if you've got 'em, yes? either in the comments so we can all read what you're loving, or just shoot me a mail. you're so much less censored when you mail me, did you know this? it's quite cool. i'm a big fan of a less censored you.

let's all have a weekend just like that, shall we? i'm in. see you next week, you little sweethearts.

this is a start.

another peek...

2011-08-17T15:31:00.031-04:00

i'm still so unplugged. but it's so wonderful that i had to jump back in for a second to tell you.

{ahem.} i've unplugged. and it's wonderful.

there. it feels good to check in with you.

i know there are a million mails i've technically not answered...but...i've answered them in my head. in short, yes to all and maybe next week and i'd love it in a medium and sure! i'd love one of your bracelets! i've been trying to dip my wrist into gold, but it's been a lifetime since i switched to white gold so do not let the exclamation point trick you; my sure is a tentative one. and they're not all pirates, though.

also. if you ever want to know who loves you, don't post for a while. my inbox is like a fat hug from a friend who smells delicious. your words for me are far too nice. i don't deserve them, i think, but i'm stealing them nonetheless.

one note has been making me think too hard during this unplugging of mine. in part, it politely requested that i come back and write. sooner rather than later. because, as the sweetheart reader wrote, i never make her feel badly about herself or her life.

that made me proud for about a half-second, but then i felt a little awful. and not because of that moment where i giggled and said out loud to no one you are most welcome for my mediocrity, kind sir. even though she is a madam. i digress. awful because of how she was feeling as a result of...gulp...blogs.

to me, blogs are collections. grand piles of good words or stellar ideas or artful images. to me, they're meant to inspire. inform. entertain. and this one in particular is purely a page where i practice writing. nothing more, but probably much less. it's sorely lacking an ulterior motive or upward trajectory and, especially of late, this troubles me. so this unplugging of mine has been a welcome respite from obsessing over all i'm not doing with this space because of what i'm doing outside of this space.

does that make sense?

anyway. i understand it completely when i'm hard on myself. i get it when you're pushing yourself out of your comfort zone because of some internal motivation, too. but i can't say that i understand. it. at. all. when those feelings fly in as a result of what someone else is writing or doing or making or thinking.

never been a factor for me.

it's not for you, either, is it? and, on the god-awful chance that it is true, what do you do about it? stop reading the blogs that make you feel less? or stalk them and do what i do when another driver's being a total jerk in a parking lot?**
**i just mutter lazy cow. i wish i did something more renegade, but i really don't believe in being renegade out loud.

images found here and here. and found really quickly. since i'm unplugged and all...

peeking in...

2011-08-10T11:00:00.005-04:00

i've been spending some time with real paper and sharp pencils. my least favorite word in the world is scratch - why do bakers use such a rashy term to describe their cake and cookie recipes? baffling to me. every time. - but it's the only one that perfectly describes the sounds that real, old-school, down and dirty writing and reading make.

we're enjoying face-to-face conversations and long runs on the trails and playing cards the girlies three and i must manually shuffle, vegas-ish-style, and a whole lot of unplugging. i am digging the unplugging. you must try it.

but i am missing you.

if you're interested in a little light nonsense reading, i wrote some words for amy right here. i hope you enjoy them.

i met amy at alt design summit. i know i've told you this a million and a half times, but alt is genius and good for your soul. there's something about hanging with your peers, hearing their voices, sharing ideas and inspiration...or, heck...just a glass of wine in the lobby of the grand america.

so, amy. i met her in the first five of alt. she has the most direct gaze i've seen. if you're talking, her eyes are on you. if she's talking, yours should be on her. i liked her within the first five of alt.

do you know my favorite thing about her? she lives in new york. and i asked her all about it. my questions usually sound like "how much does it cost to live..." and then the endings of my questions usually sound like a city or a neighborhood. you know me. i like moving. new york will always be on my list.

to me, there are two types of people in the world: those who will answer money questions and those who will not. she answered. i like that about her tremendously. i think it's important to share as much information as you've got.

and when i sent her my million-word answers to her questions, she did not reply with "awesome! thanks!" and then hit publish. she. commented. on. every. single. one. of. my. words. like, lovingly. like, we're in this whole blogging thing together.

which we are, in my mind. but it's awfully nice to meet someone else who holds that true, too.

if you don't know amy, your head will be much better with her ideas and thoughts in it. promise.

between me and you, i was so tempted to answer her first question with the brilliance below...

did i ever tell you i have a saucy mouth? i do, i do...much to my dismay.

kidding. there's no dismay.

brill found here. and there's way more. go. if you'd like to visit my words on old sweet song , they're right here.

a winner...

2011-08-04T23:53:00.012-04:00

you're all winners to me.

seriously. if we were in a race together, i'd let you win even if i was way faster. which i am not. if we were having a hold-your-breath or don't-you-dare-blink-first contest, it wouldn't even be a contest. i'd laugh and blink and blow it all. geography or math? i'm sunk. my go-to answers are always myanmar and seventy-eleventy, and those are rarely the right answers.

so it pains me that only one of you can win these kick-smash {i'm trying to swear less. which means i'm making up more words.} business cards from UPrinting. they are a lovely company. i've printed with them before, and i swear she's going to be thrilled when she gets her new cards. she needs a little giftie.

i think i may be giving something else away next week. and i've just decided that someday i will hold a give-away where you all win something. promise.

cat found here. i'm allergic to cats, so this one is out for me. but i am very interested these days in getting another tattoo. like, the girlies' names on my wrist. now that would make a genius weekly wrist post, wouldn't it? have a sweet weekend, you little sweethearts. tell me if you get a tattoo, will you! i'll be jeally...

my weekly wrist{ish}...

2011-08-03T09:48:00.005-04:00

this little piggy reminds me to run my miles...

i prefer the little piggy who encourages me to eat jelly beans.

also, i've been raving about gel manicures for a while now. they are usually genius and last forever, unless you're in the pool every day. this past mani lasted about a week and a half before the polish started peeling off.

however, as is my motto for pretty much everything, when things go to hell in a hand-basket...just add shimmer.

i think maya angelou said that.

smile...

2011-08-01T09:12:00.007-04:00

i need some advice if you've got some extra...

so i was in this accident. and things are a supreme mess because of it. {i just backspaced out of four awfully whiny tragi-sentences that would've made a swell refrain if i were singing the blues and drinking jack, but were not-so-great for a monday morning blog post, yes? yes.}

short version of my story: my front left tooth died in the accident. which is way better than the alternative, for sure.

for. sure.

but now i've got a choice to make. do i get a root canal in that tooth - one of the first of two that you see whenever i smile...and did you know i smile all of the flipping time?! not a good coincidence. - and then have the dentist try his little heart out to match the whiteness of that tooth to the rest of my teeth and especially to the shade of white on the one to her right?

or. and here is where i start to lose my breath.

does he make sure the two front sister teeth match forever and ever and even when i drink coffee by giving me veneers? the way he delicately explained it, he would SHAVE DOWN MY CUTE FRONT TEETH TO LITTLE POINTS. and then attach something or other that look like teeth.

sob.

when i was in sixth grade, my last name was harvey. i didn't know that i didn't like my last name yet until i got to chemistry class right after lunch. the teacher was lovely and brilliant and kind of totally a geek. and when he reached my name, he smiled so big that i thought i'd won student of the year already.

karey harvey...hey! harvey the rabbit!

it didn't help that my two front teeth were the size of scrabble tiles. i hadn't had braces yet, so they maybe rested over my bottom lip. maybe. sigh. although not one of my classmates even knew who james stewart was until christmas eve, they were all super-familiar with harvey the rabbit from that day forward. and that is how my year went.

i got braces the day before sixth grade school pictures, and kept them on until the day after eighth grade pictures. forgiven. because for the rest of my life except for one night at prom where the boozy photographer asked me to tone it down with the teeth, sister! those two big front teeth have made nearly every picture i take better.

i honestly don't know what to do. i need some additional professional opinions, i think. and then i need yours...

if you have a second, what would you do? i think both options are going to hurt, aren't they?

don't forget to leave a comment to win 250 business cards, ok? they're going to be cute. i just know it. three teaspoons is my favorite today.

smashies...

2011-07-29T08:49:00.009-04:00

every night before she falls asleep, esmé and i wrap our arms around each other so i can read her thoughts. my mind was elsewhere and i was hisspering way too much to close your eyes and get to sleep, mé! i could feel her tiny body tense, there was a pause, and then she covered her eyes and said I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON!

i just laughed.

she uncovered her eyes and asked did you read that thought?

i nodded. she gasped.

and you're not mad at me? she asked.

no. no way. i had the same exact thoughts when i was your age. i still do, sometimes.

i spent the next twenty minutes reassuring her of all the rotten thoughts that lived in my head at one point or another during my childhood. like, how i wished my mom and dad would die in a hot-pursuit car chase and starsky and hutch could adopt me at the scene of the crime. or the nights i begged whoever was in charge of these things to send my parents to the land of the lost. until they came back, i could be raised by the hardy boys. i dreamed of being rescued from my wonderful little farm girl life {which, since i had such silly allergies and couldn't go outside for long until the sneezing began, really was less farm and more wonderful.} by kings and queens, farrah faucet, liberace, the family on different strokes, and even by a troop of talking apes who were awesome cooks.

how do you stop those thoughts? she wondered.

hmmm. i don't think you can...i think they just race in like a dumb puppy and jump all over your other much more well-behaved thoughts. eventually, though, they grow up. slobber a lot less. roll over on command.

anyway, i told her i remember an afternoon where my mom had sat with me for what seemed like hours, just reading her book next to me while i played on the floor. and then, in my memories at least, she made me a banana smoothie. and i thought it couldn't get any better than that. not even with the drummonds.

long pause. a petite nod. blues like drowning stars. then a why don't you ever make me banana smoothies?

uhhh. they weren't exactly smoothies. they were just mashed-up bananas and maybe some milk? we didn't even have a blender, i bet. we were so poor that we couldn't even call them smoothies. we called them smashies.

didn't work. off to buy bananas today. even though she does not enjoy bananas. hey. have a smashie weekend, will you? wishing you a few days of good ingredients and not even one puppy thought. you take care of you. see you monday. first images that made my mind wander this morning, here and here. oh! and don't forget to throw your name in to the business card give-away. trust me...this company does great work. xoxo.

you need these...

2011-07-26T18:41:00.016-04:00

i know you by now, i think. and i know what you need...

a few sincere compliments about how that bikini bottom makes your bum look teeny and how your smile lights up a cloudy afternoon. a genius mani/pedi in colors you wouldn't normally choose. a bangle or two that prompts pure strangers to grab your wrist and ask where the heck you got them and also helps other joggers hear you jingling when you're coming up behind them so there's not that awkward gasp-and-punch as you pass. a handful of jellybeans. an adventure that tickles your heart whenever you think about it. a baby that does the same. someone who can look you in the eyes and see the rest of your life...together. twinkly lights for when your smile isn't nearly enough to brighten up a starless night. a real and unexpected hug. your very own dirty joke you only tell after a few too many gin tonics. courage...or a few too many gin tonics. someone who's happy - no, thrilled - to see you no matter when or where. and a fresh and free set of business cards.

i could be wrong about the jellybeans. but if you're planning on attending alt design summit this year? i am not at all wrong about the business cards.

i don't mean to bore you with the details, but i must. one winner - who is at least eighteen and lives in the united states and hasn't won anything from UPrinting in the past six months - will be gifted a prize of 250 die-cut business cards. look at all the options and die-cut business card templates, will you? i am partial to the circles.

you know i love making business cards. my faves are these and these. i'll make new ones for myself later this month. you should totally make yours now.

visit UPrinting and check out their super cheap business cards. decide which one should be your new calling card; it's important to have a good one. then just leave a sweet comment on this post between today and wednesday, 3 august 2011. extra points for spreading give-away love via twitter. i'll choose the winner at random on thursday morning, okay?

okay, then.

what else do i need to tell you? details are not my thing. but i know you and they aren't really yours, either. presents that make us both happy, however, are our thing. of that, i am dead sure. a special thanks to UPrinting for this gift. because it really is...

my weekly wrist...

2011-07-26T14:20:00.004-04:00

i love it when my girlies make me happy.

i love it even more when they make me bangles.

loosely based on this project. very loosely.

dear you...

2011-07-25T11:43:00.008-04:00

so many sweet things happened this weekend, but they all seem to be of the sort that shouldn't really be shared. a lot of whispers, a lot of proud moments, and one or three acts of kindness from one of our three that made me put my hand over my heart so it wouldn't fall out.

you know how bad i am with anatomy.

someone asked me a few weeks ago if i was on facebook. i said no, and she was pretty aghast. you? miss online all the time is not on facebook? hmmm. perhaps i am a little too free with my thoughts on this space. that makes the worrier in me worry.

but the writer in me needs to tell stories. i honestly enjoy stringing thoughts together and forcing myself to mix words together in ways that aren't comfortable or natural. shocking myself small makes me feel like i'm living huge.

plus? my heart needs to empty itself.

i can't explain the reason behind mackin ink continuing long after i've stopped it - what? three times now? - any better than that. my heart needs to empty itself.

grae had a divisional swim meet early saturday morning, and wanted to get to bed early on friday night. esmé and i gladly went upstairs with her so she wouldn't be lonely, and so esmé could watch out for burglars and killers until grae fell safely asleep.

we both looked at her, dying to ask the same question, probably. whatever would you do with a burglar or a killer, esmé? you're so short! and i do not think you have a gun. also, you still mix up nines and sixes. and six-one-one is just not as effective at getting the right people to back you up. we shared a glance and stifled a giggle, because neither one of us could bear to interrupt her bravery.

i heard her sigh twice, and i asked her what was the matter. i can't go to sleep without lillie, she said. as matter-of-fact as if she'd just told me i can't breathe without air.

but it was early and lillie was hanging with her dad and those two just can't be bothered with sleep at night. still, grae called down two flights and asked. lillie? can you come to bed now?

i heard lill skip steps to get to grae. what do you need, gracie?

another sigh. a beggy one this time. i need you to come to bed. i have divisionals tomorrow...

and on the imaginary clothesline strung between them hung the words and i can't go to sleep without you.

i held my breath. it was early. and there's nothing early about my lillie-kate.

but i'm not tired...she began, and ended with a sigh. okay.

it's funny. that okay was so damn reassuring to me, seriously overpowering the fast-forward fear of what will they ever do without each other? it's nice to have an unshakeable faith in something i've spent so much of my life making. because you know that never happens for me with, say, risotto. or anything, really, with more than two ingredients.

anyway. i much prefer working with ingredients that get better with age.

there. exactly what i was telling you earlier about emptying my heart. now i've more room for a moment or two today...which is probably not the one that greeted me after my miles this morning: esmé dressed in her dad's running shorts and tee shirt, stuffed with throw pillows, looking all rectangle child, eating a popsicle and calling herself pam. i'm holding out for something less...troubling. photos from om-nia.

finally friday...

2011-07-22T11:36:00.008-04:00

i have less words than usual to spill here today. perhaps due to the heat or maybe the insane purge i've begun on all our unnecessary objects or maybe as a result of a late night here spent with the best of our best friends.

i'm sure i could probably find some sort of nonsense to tell you, but i really try to keep nonsense out of friday posts.

giggle.

all i really wanted to tell you is to have a sweet weekend, you little sweethearts. i hope you get to read a book in the shade, stifle a few hearty laughs that come at completely inappropriate moments, and make something wonderful. i'm all in for making something wonderful, aren't you? until monday...

replacements...

2011-07-20T12:35:00.009-04:00

we got our car back yesterday, and i wish i had video of esmé seeing her again. you would've gotten misty, i swear, to see her give her new door a hug.

eyes closed, deep sigh, and a whispered thank you for saving us.

we looked at all the parts that had been replaced. this is a new word for esmé - replacement - and she's really trying to understand every angle in its definition.

yesterday, she opened her car door and slammed it smack into the minivan next to us with its sweet owner standing sweetly horrified nearby. after an admirably effusive apology, esmé looked at me and assured me that it's fine...we can replace it.

hmmm. we could, i guess. but that minivan had driven around two boys for seven years, and the sweet owner pointed out every scrape and dent along its side. although i could see not even one.

sigh.

she breaks lillie and grae's toys and belongings with train schedule regularity. it's fine...we can replace it.

she sneaks into uncle sugar's private stash of popsicles in the downstairs freezer. where did they disappear? i don't know, pat. why don't you ask the girl with the blue lips?

it's fine...we can replace it.

and on and on and on.

after our trip to new york, she's been obsessed with the twin towers. i think it was after she heard them described by the empire state building's little movie as brothers.

she's like me. sisters, brothers, sun, and moon...the day can't really be the same without them.

mostly every night before bed, she asks why the twin towers can't be replaced. i have different answers, both long and less, but they all come back to the same idea. there are people involved, and people can never be replaced.

last night, she got it. we were talking about my mom, who is esmé's sun and moon.

she never found another husband, she mused casually. and then sat straight up, blues fast awake. she couldn't replace him. she couldn't replace him!

she was on fire.

and she never got another daughter after lin because she couldn't replace her, either! mom! you're right! people can't be replaced!

you know...this is a nonsense mom moment, probably, to you. i get that. but i also think it's a wonderful rite of passage, too. that understanding that people matter. that they alter actions. they affect outcomes. they're here and then they're not. they're like washable paint, making the world more beautiful in such a semi-permanent way. just don't scrub too hard. don't waste the red. you might make mistakes and turn the whole lot gray-brown, but we all do that, yes? it's almost impossible not to...

say good morning. say goodnight. say it all in between. because moments like this can't be replaced, either.

you know what i realized yesterday? i was listening to this {don't judge. i love the line they tell me i'm the shit, i'm like duh. really. please don't judge.}, devouring tumblrs like candy - especially the ones with nudie women. is that how we're supposed to look, mr. harris tweed? ok, then. i will try harder. - and i thought to myself karey mackin? you are a thirteen year old boy. awesome. have a sweet day, you little sweethearts. love, a thirteen year old boy.

just watch...

2011-07-19T11:52:00.007-04:00

someone with a really really really fancy job asked me the other day what i do for a living. i told her i'm a writer.

oh? what have you written?

and that is exactly when my stomach clenched and my breath caught on one of my ribs and i bit my bottom lip so my cutie dimple appeared. i call it a dimple even though it is not actually a dimple. it is a chicken pox scar. and yes, that thought went through my head at the same exact moment as the thought that sounds a lot like i call myself a writer even though i am not exactly a writer.

i hate when that thought busts in.

i get paid for writing. but magazine articles and speeches and words for other people...oh, i forget all about those the moment i give them away. easy come, easy go.

to me, books make a writer real.

perched on the left corner of my desk are three and a half unfinished proposals. good stories. one could be great. none you've ever heard before. one i'm not sure i should tell. which makes me want to tell it. a lot.

back to that woman with the really really really fancy job. i almost told her that i write nonsense. nothing of consequence. truthfully, i bet i almost told her about my dimple.

but i didn't. i think i waved my hand away and escaped the convo with something like "oh, probably nothing you've read..."

yet.

one of my friends with a really really really cool job asked me what i was writing lately. after i told him, i could feel his shrug through the internet. "we all prostitute ourselves at some point in our careers," he replied. gulp. hey...have you ever been back to look at the sweeterie? remember that? man, i spent about an hour there yesterday. some lovely images over there, i am not afraid to say. speaking of lovely images, i leave you with a quote from uncle sugar in response to the friendship bracelet cuh-razy train, on which i am an enthusiastic traveler. also, i would very much like to find this watch and make it my own. it's me, yes? say yes, please. xoxo.

jotted...

2011-07-18T09:59:00.003-04:00

doing this all day and maybe tomorrow, too. join me? xoxo.

caught...

2011-07-15T08:32:00.008-04:00

we were talking about kiwis on our way to this place, and esmé piped in from the back "they are a flightless bird from new zealand. i bet that would make them easy to catch."

everyone always wants to catch something that shouldn't be caught, don't they?

so flightless birds have been on a certain little's mind, which naturally brought us to dodos. this morning, the very first thing she said upon waking was "but why did all the dodos die?"

"i guess they just didn't have enough babies to keep them alive," i thought, probably incorrectly, but who's going to wiki me and prove it? oh, the joy of having a late-reader.

she thought about that, and then asked "babies keep you alive?"

and i sat there for a second or two, trying to blink away the puddles forming in my blues. because, yes. i think i believe that with my whole heart and all the hearts i've made.

babies keep you alive.

have a sweet weekend, you little sweethearts. images from here and here. doesn't that second one hit you in the gut? mad truth, yes?

laughing...

2011-07-14T10:29:00.010-04:00

when's the last time you laughed? like, laughed laughed? with tears and a hand over your mouth and a lean into the person next to you...

i do enjoy laughing.

i laugh a lot. usually when it's an inappropriate time. i will tell you this secret about me if you swear to never repeat it to anyone, ok? ok, then. once, i went to a very crowded wake. when it was my turn to kneel in front of the casket, i completely lost my mind and started laughing. shoulders shaking, nose plugged, tears streaming. i was a mess. and then. when i went to express my condolences to the guy's family? i started all over again. it was awful. i remember getting my trying-not-to-laugh high-pitched voice...ugh...this soprano sorry sailing through the room.

shame.

this morning, i've already laughed hard once. when esmé named her giraffe baracko. after the president. baracko bama.

i'm not surprised. she butchers all the world leaders and a variety of terrorists. with one exception: this guy. oh, she knows his name. she just won't ever say it. he scares the crust out of us.

where was i? oh, yes. laughing. it's good for your soul, yes? but it's kind of like hugs, isn't it? do you ever get a hug and all of a sudden realize that it's been awhile since someone's hugged you? i mean, i hug the girlies three and pat all day all night. but sometimes i think they forget to hug me first. that's a huge difference in hugs, don't you think? a hug you give is lovely. a hug you get is even better.

anyway. when's the last time you laughed? i hope you get to laugh today. i hope you get a hug today, too. off to make more videos for this project. grae sings in the most wonderful dude-in-an-opera voice. you would peep your pants if you heard it. i'll try to persuade her to share. xoxo. photos from here and here.

a taste...

2011-07-13T07:22:00.011-04:00

whenever i complain, the weirdest thing happens: the universe shows me i'm wrong.

as disgruntled as i was yesterday morning at weirdo-competitive parents and creepy dads who tug on skirts and ask for a sick kiss of their own after you've just given a sweet one to your daughter, it all slowly disappeared throughout the day.

there were a lot of small moments that added up to wonderful. lillie asked to run to the pool to practice her turns, which is major for a girl who glides through the water with the most graceful stroke but, really, is in no rush whatsoever to finish quickly. she just loves to swim.

i was telling them yesterday that all i really want for them is to grow up to be strong swimmers. i have nightmares about this not coming true. i really do. because sometimes, life is all about saving yourself and anyone else around you who's drowning.

i met a mom at lacrosse who. made. my. flipping. day. she was interesting, she was enthusiastic about her daughter for all the right reasons, and she clapped really hard when her babe ran fast or tried hard or just tapped sticks with another girl after a particularly good play.

my kind of mom.

and it was the cutest thing! she had so much to say, and she'd start to...but then she'd wave her hand and shake her head at herself and say to me "oh, you don't want to hear that!"

but i did. i really, really did.

lillie made her first goal, and after that, grae must've bruised the hell out of the goalie trying to get her own. i'd hear a thunk and a groan and an exasperated growl from my grae-girl, and i'd do my best not to laugh. i was unsuccessful, mostly.

on our way home, lill told me i was right about scrabble, and that it applied to swimming and lacrosse, too. she got a taste, and it tastes delicious.

let me explain that one.

on our last beach holiday, the girlies were playing scrabble with their nona. they're just beginners and don't have the arsenal of words that my mother-in-law does, so i suggested that nona didn't exactly have to take all the triple words positions.

"they're never going to learn to win if i just let them win," she said. and i agree with her, mostly. i mean, i love how pat and his siblings turned out, so i have mad respect for how she raised her five.

but i also think that we all need to taste winning before we really crave it.

same goes for happiness. thanks for sending it my way.

oh! and i almost forgot the nicest part of yesterday...i was invited to design a bracelet with this very cool company! the process was so addictive and thrilling that i may have told uncle sugar last night that i want to be a jewelry designer. he may have rolled his eyes. humph. just wait until you see what i made, mister. i'll show you, too, as soon as it arrives. better news than all that nonsense? you'll get a chance to design your own, too! details coming soon...xoxo. first three things that stopped me on pinterest: here, here, and here.

pretend it's monday...

2011-07-12T07:41:00.010-04:00

i am so naughty this morning. do not encourage this, please. here. let me be positive.

our weekend was so jam-packed with activities that we played hooky yesterday. hit a few museums, a free tibet festival, and noshed at a very inspiring kiwi cafe and art gallery. man, i've got to start being creative again. i really do.

also, buddhism? don't you love that religion? in all honesty, i had the easiest time explaining it to esmé. prayer wheels are my favorite; just the thought of spinning it and sending prayers out into the world around you? brilliant. oh! and blank prayer flags! the possibilities are endless, yes?

{if you'd like to order your own, these look like the ones we bought.}

i'm trying desperately not to follow that paragraph with one about my latest theory, written in my naughty head during swim meets. tentatively titled non-athletic parents are the most competitive. i just deleted my sub-theory. it was not kind. to skeeves.

but, honestly! don't parents ruin it for you sometimes? {if you were my friend, you'd stop me right here.} i was talking to a really smart, together woman last week who asked me if i found the parent sitch different here than the other places we've lived. i answered a resounding yes.

her theory is that there are a lot of high-powered women here who've taken a hiatus from their careers to focus on their other work products. otherwise known as their babes. and that everyone involved would probably be better off if they got back to work. pronto.

and don't get me started on skeevy dads! crap. i can't tell you that story. but it involves a skirt i can't wear anymore.

sigh.

anyway. this is why - as much as i love that darn religion and way of life - i will never be a buddhist. the end. {because weren't you supposed to stop me from my naughtiness by now before i got myself into trouble? i thought so.}

tell me you have weirdo parents around you, too! and i know, i know...i should focus on all the cool ones. i shall do that tomorrow! see? see how positive i can be? you don't, do you. i thought not. xoxo. and an entire tumblr devoted to prayer flags? i'm in.

my weekly wrist...

2011-07-08T10:16:00.009-04:00

i have so much to tell you, but my girlies three and the sunshine are calling me away from this little rectangle.

that's not really true. the sunshine is simply shining and my girlies three are actually throwing fits. and the only call i've gotten today thus far is from uncle sugar. who is still talking about his birthday present to me.

did i tell you? it was a new york surprise. two nights and lots of bright lights, genius sights, killer food, and lots of hobos. esmé is a little obsessed with hobos. as if you didn't know this.

oh, heck. while i'm here, let me tell you my fave thing about new york: everything. we stayed right in times square because pat wanted the girlies to have that experience. that suck-the-air-right-out-of-you, blink-a-million-times-at-all-the-sights kind of an experience.

in two days and in no rush whatsoever, we saw a lot. central park, the statue of liberty, ellis island, the financial district, chinatown, and a killer birthday late lunch in little italy. we zoomed to the top of the empire state building where they sadly informed us that there was zero visibility.

they were ill-prepared for my girlies three screams. "WE GET TO EAT A CLOUD!" they gobbled up at least four.

on the way home, we stopped in hoboken to grab some pastries. the line was outrageous, but who cares? it was a moment. and it also gave esmé some spare time to write new lyrics for lady gaga's edge of glory.

"i'm on the bus...to jersey! and i'm hanging in hoboken with you. the bus the bus the bus the bus the bus the bus the bus! i'm on the bus...to jersey! and i'm hanging in hoboken with you."

try to get that one out of your head. i have.

pat keeps asking my favorite moment. i have to say, it was falling in love with america all over again. i mean, it honestly gutted me to see how many foreigners waited all day to see some of our most significant spots. the way they stopped to stare at the statue of liberty. ugh. makes me cry just thinking about it. and that movie you can see on ellis island? important. just important.

when you understand that people - pat's grandparents and mine, really - came here on a hope...

i can't imagine that bravery. to leave everything for maybe-something? i can't really put it into words how that changes me.

we've been on a lot of vacations. that's kind of an understatement, i guess. this one was different.

it's nice to return home from a holiday with more than a tan.

wrist styled and photographed by my grae-girl. she is a shimmer gypsy, that one. i told her that all my blondie hair sticking up on my wrist is not cute, but she informed me that blondie hair is always cute. i asked where she heard that, and she said "my mirror." oh! and see my friendship bracelet? it's from my hella cool friend. i like her so much.

mind reading...

2011-07-06T09:57:00.009-04:00

last night, i was reading a few encyclopedia brown cases to esmé. she is so enamored with bugs meany that it makes me nervous.

she started a question about something or other, and i answered her before she really even asked.

"how do you do that?" she wondered. "how do you know what i'm thinking before i think it?"

"part magic," i answered. "but mostly because i made you, and i know everything inside you."

so she looked off into nothing, blanked out her face, and tried to test me. "what am i thinking now?"

i fake-scowled and replied sternly, "i'm telling daddy."

she couldn't believe it. "how did you know i was thinking about fat lady bums?"

this went on for minutes and minutes and giggles galore and thoughts so naughty...well...they'd make bugs meany cringe. a little while later, she fell asleep on my lap before we cracked the case of the stomach puncher. and for the first time in my life since the girlies three, i felt a pang. an i'm-going-to-miss-this ache.

i've never looked back and missed. it's just not me. i tend to like the next a little more than the last. i love change so much, i'd marry her. and one more day with my girlies three is such a blinding gift that i rarely think about yesterday.

but there are moments when one of my three believes in me so hard and with so much faith - no matter what nonsense tale i'm spinning - that i already ache about the day that will end.

this morning, she asked grae if she knew that i could read their minds. i heard grae answer, "yeah."

"how does she do it?" esmé asked.

"she made us," explained grae. i could feel her shrug, like this was a fact that everyone should know. like this was the same as the result of nine times anything adds up to nine. "so she knows what's inside us."

this is probably silly and even i'm rolling my eyes, but do you know that i still half-believe that my mom and dad worked for santa claus? it's kind of possible if you're bad with dates and facts. also, that my mom knew the penny wish fairy personally, so - damn it - how rude would i be if i didn't make a wish on every lone penny i found?

i rarely believe in important things. that sounds strange to say, but i'm one of those people who see both sides depending on the moment. that might be a by-product of traveling and living far away for so long. or it could just be a quirk. i also like believing small, if that makes sense. it's more manageable to me. plus i am allergic to super-declarative people. i think most people who feel like they have a ton to say...shouldn't.

that sounds mean, doesn't it? i don't mean to be mean.

sometimes i feel guilty about all that. sometimes i like to practice having louder opinions. it rarely works, though, because i keep holding on to one or more pieces of magic and hope and what-if and maybe.

i guess i just like believing in things that require belief to live on.

there was a day last week when i was a shite mom. it happens. i was short-tempered and rude and mean. and all of a sudden out of the clear black night, i thought to myself that my sister, lin, would be really disappointed in me. you know that story; she was good and generous up until the minute she died. never petty, never complained...no matter how much pain.

a little while before she died, we went to an outdoor market together. we bought a big red bird cage for my mom, and she bought me this folk art piece that made me gasp. it plays that song...oh, i no longer know the real words. when it's wound, it pays a tune and i always sing "a time to remember...that day in september...la la la la...la la la la." anyway. i rarely wind it up. it makes me cry.

but in the middle of me acting like a total jerk to my girlies three, it started playing. and in strolled a grinning esmé.

"lin told me to play that song," she said simply and so matter-of-fact that it felt like a sucker punch.

{sigh.}

i'm karey m. and i believe in angels.

photos from here, here, and here.

on friendship...

2011-07-05T08:00:00.000-04:00

if you could pick anyone to be your friend - anyone in the world, that is - i'd highly suggest that you do not pick me.

in all honesty, i'm a fairly stellar friend in my head and heart. there've been times i've woken up in the middle of the night worrying about one of my closest and even some of you that i've never even met before. it's true: tell me your story and i'm all yours.

if it's words you need? i've collected some of the best. and i always share.

but i think i stink at grand gestures. mainly, gifts.

it's not the generosity part of it. not at all. it's the finding the perfect thing for the perfect you. it's the wait. no. that wasn't the perfect thing for the perfect you. this is. no. that is. no. this would be better. wait. let me think on this for a day. and then the day turns to week turns to month turns to never.

when i lived by my friends and family, i gifted the heck out of them. for no reason at all, most times. because you know me: i don't like a birthday telling me when to buy you something. i'd much rather listen to a thursday instead.

i'm not sure when i started stinking at gifting. it may have been when the post office became involved in the process. or it may have been my issue with remembering dates. it may have been my indecision about which lovely to buy for a lovely. it may have been the confusion-confectioner that is etsy. i'm not sure at all.

i do know it's never had anything to do with love.

but then my birthday rolls around, and the wishes and kindnesses some of you showered on me show me i'm flat-out wrong. from chirps on twitter to a chubby inbox to kickass treats from mel and richie...it must be about love. because it's all i feel.

and i need to stop stinking at it.

are you a good gifter? from now on, i'm going to be. i'm going to get a special calendar and start a gift closet {which i used to have! what happened?!}...what else do i need? tell me your tricks to being good gifters, will you? i need them. xoxo. tomorrow, i'll tell you what uncle sugar and the girlies three gave me, ok? ok. until then. pics from here and here.

my weekly wrist...

2011-06-30T07:48:00.009-04:00

our fancy camera broke. we're not sure how or why or what or all those other questions that make a story more interesting and detailed, but we are pretty certain of the when.

the first day of our beach holiday.

no worries. after every gorgeous sunshine or sunset or plain old sandy moment, i just tried not to blink so the image would stick to my eyeballs. {yeah. pat didn't think that was funny, either. until he nearly broke his neck and had a bloody tiptop of his head. then i think he didn't mind that i didn't have a camera.}

a quick shot via my phone, then, of what i'm wearing on my wrist these days.

i'm making lots of noise.

the cuff on the end and the four bangles are from a souk jeweler in saudi arabia just after esmé was born. i wore them every day back then for at least her first year. there was probably another gift for my wrist that replaced them as my dailies, and they've sat in an emerald green velvet box ever since.

i took them out again for the beach, and the first time esmé heard them...i swear, she was doing her latest ravensburger and she sat back, looked at me with the roundest little ice-blue circles like she maybe remembered, and kind of shook her head.

"where did you get those?" she asked. but not in her usual "ooh! where'd you get that?" way.

"daddy picked these out for me when you came to us," i explained. "i wore them every day when you were a baby."

she shook her head again and asked, "i can't remember that, can i?" all the while, thinking that she honestly remembered that jangle and clangle.

i told her i didn't know, but i pretty much believe that we get to keep one or two memories from when we were brand new. and that she's lucky if this is her one...because mine is made of chicken pox scabs on my bum.

it's my birthday on july third. i usually start announcing it way earlier than this, but time has been escaping me lately. like, i missed our wedding anniversary last week. when uncle sugar reminded me of how long we've been married, i gasped and said "we've known each other for THAT LONG?!" he scowled and replied fake-patiently, "no, karey. {he never calls me karey.} we knew each other for five years before we got married." whoa. that is weird math. anyway. i have a sweet reader who wanted to sponsor one of my weekly wrist posts. i'm sure we can arrange something. that something might involve one of these diamond bracelets from birks. or these! doesn't it give you chills when jewelry has significance? if you ever could, would you buy something like that? oh! and here's another question i'm dying to have you answer: what's your most expensive piece of jewelry? tell me, please? p.s. my green beads were $4.99. there. xoxo.

not a good...

2011-06-29T08:03:00.009-04:00

ohmygosh. so first thing this morning, i started writing and immediately deleted a sentence that read something along the lines of "do you even know what i super hate?" that would not have been a wonderful wednesday greeting, i didn't think.

so i wanted to wait until after the girlies' swim team practice to write to you. at which time i would be in a mucho better frame of mind.

but.

near the end of practice, all of the parents who stay with their babes while they swim were asked to set up for the meet tonight. so there we all were, moving chaises and other heavy objects. all except one...lovely little lady. who couldn't be bothered to look up from her book, much less be bothered to participate.

her two loungers were the last two left to move. so i asked if i could steal away the one with her kids' bags and towels on it. no stress. she was reading a romance novel, after all. i hate to interrupt mindless.

she huffed. puffed. and then said...in a lovely little lady voice..."fine. i guess i'll just pack up."

"ok, cool." i chirped brightly. i like ignoring passive-aggro lovely little ladies.

when i returned to pick up her chairs, i heard her griping to a few other moms. about moi! how i was making her get up and move! oh, dear. "no no no!" i interrupted. "i just wanted to move your extra chair!"

"whatever."

and this is where i knew i couldn't come home and write a sweet post. not today. because this was un-right. this was un-cool. this was un-kind. this was...stupid.

which is what i said. in the form of "stupid." topped with a petite "this is really small."

i'm a little shocked by my behavior. i mean, i'm very good at censoring myself. very. good. i ignore lovely little lady comments on a daily basis. seriously, i do.

ooh. i just re-read this and now i feel guilty. super guilty. for the rest of the day, i'm going to find my patience again. promise. but do i have to apologize to this lovely little lady? say no. because i do not think she'll accept my apology.

i could be wrong, but people who don't get up to help when everyone else has gotten up to help strike me as the same sort of people who don't accept apologies. like, the same sort of people who don't leave tips because they don't believe in them. and those who don't pick up their dog muss when no one's around.

ohmygosh! back to mad! i've got to end this, so the end. i am in rare form today and i am sorry.

just not that sorry.

p.s. remember the good old days? like, yesterday? when i asked what made you happy? do me a favor and tell me what you super hate, will you? i shouldn't be miserably faux-guilty but more mad alone, you know...kidding.

images from here and here. xoxo.

happy...

2011-06-27T15:44:00.011-04:00

uncle sugar always asks what will make me happy. i like that he thinks that way.

i mean, it's easy to know what makes someone mad; just follow the passive-aggressive tones and sighs. happiness is a lot quieter, though. subtle. elusive. sometimes slippery for a superstitious girl like me.

but it's a really good question to ask yourself periodically, yes? because, eventually, you'll find the most basic ingredients to your own joy.

last week, on one of our many bike rides into town from our beach house, i braked. stole a quick sip from the italian ice i was bringing home for lillie while i waited for him to roll up beside me. and told him this. this makes me happy.

he nodded and smiled. and i didn't have to explain anything at all.

and that made the happiness i'd felt only seconds before? feel like nothing at all.

i am hyper-digging this i-loved-it-then-forgot-all-about-it blog. it's so dead-on true in its simplicity. her other blog is one of my absolute faves. and have you thought of this? what would make you happiest? what sort of life? what kind of day? tell me, if you have a second. i love hearing your stories. bike just like the one i wheeled all last week found here.

home again...

2011-06-26T19:11:00.011-04:00

after a week in the sand, we're diving into our summer with a fat cannonball. i'm honestly giddy about it.

we've planned lots of pool time, a sushi-making course and a few other classes {remind me to tell you why later, ok? ok.}, running miles with the girlies two without stopping or making grumpy faces, and designing beaded friendship bracelets galore. add good coffee, an art studio slash laundry room redo, finding time to read really good words, and some exciting new projects here and there for a brill summer recipe.

also, grae and i are smack in the middle of teaching esmé to read.

esmé: k-i-s-s spells kiss!

me: well done, mémé!

esmé: p-i-s-s spells piss!

me: ummm. how about m-i-s-s?

esmé: m-i-s-s? hmmm. maybe ass?

i'm starting to rethink my oh, it's all organic! parenting style with this one. she's growing naughty again lately. readers of my original blog will shudder at that sentence. worse yet, she's not even afraid of me.

she is, however, morbidly afraid of the chupacabra. don't ask me how i know this. or whether the chupacabra is part of yet another genius parenting technique making its way into esmé's upbringing.

sigh.

last night, uncle sugar came to bed after closing up the house and turning off every romantic lamp i turn on. he was trying hard not to smile as he told esmé to plug her ears so she wouldn't be scared.

"lillie? grae?" he called. "i just found a message written in blood on a roll of toilet paper in the downstairs bath."

esmé quick fake-unplugged her ears and too-brightly suggested "i bet it was written by the chupacabra! to scare gracie!"

uncle sugar looked fake-confused. "but the note said esmé."

and i swear, that little thing slowly leaned back into her pillow and sighed. like she'd just been busted robbing a bank. utterly deflated, do you know? but not down yet.

"maybe he forgot how to spell gracie," she whispered softly.

pat just smiled as she sighed again. "it was me," she admitted. she shook her head as if to say what the heck was i thinking, anyway? "chupacabras don't have disposable thumbs."

"opposable," pat corrected gently. "which means a chupacabra can't hold a pen..."

"or a red lipstick," esmé added.

another case cracked, encyclopedia brown.

she looked at me and shrugged. "it was the best i could do," she said. i agreed. but for the rest of the night, i worried. leaving death threats from the chupacabra at the age of five? i shudder to think what's coming at six.

i'm kind of taken with this tumblr, hoping for stranger things. that first photo makes me sigh in a much better way than when esmé spells piss. ok, you. i'm glad to be back here. xoxo.

i almost forgot...

2011-06-21T20:38:00.009-04:00

actually, i totally forgot. i'm on holiday this week, and my goodbye...catch you later, little you completely escaped me.

uncle sugar nearly died under a triple wave this afternoon. one of them dropped him to the bottom of the sea on his poor head, and he is now woozy and concussed. luckily, esmé befriended the children of a pediatrician and an internist on the beach, and they've assured me he will live. unless he does not.

he said he had one of those moments where his arms wouldn't work and everything went dead silent and still. grae asked if he saw a white light at the end of a tunnel, and he made a sickish face and said uhhh. not exactly.

i think he's going to be on good behavior from now on. as are we all. man, june has beaten us up, yes? i'm kind of looking forward to july, but don't tell her, ok? i don't want to draw unnecessary attention to us like we've done in june. ok, then. catch you later, little you. sand found here.

championchip cookies...

2011-06-14T07:38:00.008-04:00

i miss you. real life is getting in between us.

and by real life, i mean lacrosse championships. which lillie writes as championchips. as in WE WON THE CHAMPIONCHIPS! undefeated season for those little thugs.

one of their coaches called them the hanson brothers. ask your boys if they've ever seen that movie. the description makes me giggle.

also doctor's appointments. a billion of them. and begging a certain little esmé to get in the car. every single time we have to get in the car. "let's just walk," she suggests, trying not to lose it. and when i tell her it would take us three days to get the the grocery with her walking two steps and then begging me to carry her, she smiles brightly and tries not to lose it and assures me "you can do it."

i would. for her, i would.

can i vent for a second? i hate doctor's appointments. {i just deleted a few vehement sentences. trust me. it's best for the both of us.} also, i use the term fat bastard at least once an hour. {i just deleted the term uncle sugar uses when he talks about the other driver. trust me. it's best for the both of us.}

ohmygosh. this post is so frown-inducing! let me think of something else to tell you. ummm. pat and i stole away to nordstrom last night to pick up grae's new shoes. while we were waiting, we danced to a killers' song playing throughout the store, we texted super-smiley pictures of ourselves to the girlies, and i watched him chat sweetly with the manager of the shoe section.

don't you love watching someone you like a lot interact well with other people? i do, too.

while we were there, i saw a guy in a poorly-fitted suit with his unsmiling family bust in front of a korean family trying to ask about a pair of shoes. "get me these in a two and a two and a half. red. thanks." loud and without waiting for an answer. not even treating the sales guy like a person.

i wanted to tell him tom's wouldn't like his behavior. i also may have thought he was precisely the term uncle sugar uses when he talks about the other driver. trust me. it's best for him.

i promise i will get it together and be charming tomorrow. if not tomorrow, someday. ok? thank you. i like friends who don't hold you to too high standards. xoxo. all pics from the always gentleman.

my weekly wrist...

2011-06-09T13:04:00.008-04:00

i've finally given uncle sugar back his watch, but i stole his wedding band. i just feel like wearing it for a minute. i'm sure he doesn't mind...we never really wear those things, anyway.

do you? do they matter a lot a lot a lot to you?

i've known women who measure their love by the ones they've been gifted, i've known men who measure their wasta by the ones they've given, and i've known people who still do really crappy things when they're married and wearing those rings. they just take them off and put them in their pockets while they're being naughty.

i've never really thought it was about the ring. at all.

after lillie and grae-rose came to stay, pat bought me one of those tiffany charm bracelets and had their names engraved on one side, his on the other. i stopped wearing it as soon as esmé arrived. just tossed it in a drawer and forgot about it.

she found it again a few months ago. i saw her keep turning it over and turning it over. surely there must be another side on this thing with MY NAME ON IT, she seemed to be thinking. with her little doll-face all scrunched up. it felt like i had cheated on her. isn't that strange?

anyway. i had these charms made over five and a half years ago. don't even remember the artist, but i do remember she had never done shapes other than circles. i said something like, "but they're not all circles." because not everyone is, you know. so she tried something new just for me. don't you love it when people try something new just for you? me, too.

i've been wearing my babies all week. i hear them clink around and i smile, and it seems to take some of the panic away. jellybeans are having a similar effect.

one of my sweet readers knows how uncle sugar feels about rolexes, and introduced me to mayors' selection of pre-owned rolexes. whoa. we knew a guy in jordan who wore this one, and i never could focus when he'd talk with his hands and it would fly around in the air. crow. i think it would be perfect for pat.

what do you think i should do...

2011-06-08T08:42:00.007-04:00

it's been one week, and esmé still won't travel in the car without covering her head with a scarf or a towel. it's actually kind of funny when she pretends she sees a volkswagen from under there, yelling "pink one!" and then punching whoever's lucky enough to be next to her.

she's also taken to sleeping upside down in bed. head deep under the covers, feet on her pillow.

whenever we get in the car, she cries and says she doesn't want to get in another accident. i tell her that i've only been in one accident. ever. and that people really only get to be in one accident. so she got hers out of the way early. i'm hoping she never meets someone who's been in two.

we talk about everything so much, but i'm feeling uncertain about what to do here. i don't want to overthink it, but i certainly don't want to blow it off, either.

thoughts? i appreciate yours. xoxo. little bunny in da hood found here.

are you ok...

2011-06-07T08:01:00.007-04:00

after our little accident, esmé just wanted to go home. i did, too. everyone with their questions and their "you're bleeding, ma'am. you might want to sit down." were peeving me off.

so we went home to breathe before heading to the hospital. mémé worked on a puzzle and tried to stop crying. i sent my famous mail to pat, and then i ran over to grae's school to tell her there'd be a few changes in her after-school plans.

so she bounces down the hallway, all messy bun and pink lips, and as soon as i see her...my eyes start watering. i mean, it's all so minute-to-minute, yes?

she looks around and starts panicking.

"do you want to take this outside?" she asked me, in a low professional voice.

"no. no. i'm good." she looked like she didn't believe me but also like she would be very peeved if i lost it at her school.

"esmé and i got into an accident. a big fat bastard in a crap car ran a red light and smashed us."

"where's mémé?" still professional.

"at home. she's fine."

"are you ok?" looking at my already-black arm and swollen eye and bloody bridge of my nose, her eyes widening but. still. profesh.

i assured her once more that both mémé and i were fine. she nodded, looked at her watch, and said "ok...i've really got to get back to class."

pat and i have been laughing our heads off ever since. she's such a middle-aged man, do you know?!

later, lillie asked why i didn't go to her school. i told her that i knew she was in the middle of testing, and i didn't want to ruin her straight A streak. she looked like she didn't believe me and even mémé rolled her eyes.

"you woulda cwied and we already had enough of that with me and mom." she said, still working on her puzzle.

that night, when we were all home again, grae didn't leave my side. followed me everywhere and even into the shower. lillie, on the other hand, couldn't get far enough away from me. esmé was just trying not to cry.

just before we fell asleep, lill came into my room and looked at me with her dad's chocolate browns but no chandelier smile.

"i wasn't nice at all this morning," she said. "i was grumpy. i didn't even kiss you goodbye."

poor thing. i told her how i wondered all the time which is easier: having someone you love die for a long time or all of a sudden out of the clear blue.

we talked about it for a while, and decided that both would stink. so maybe we should just be nice all the time just in case.

the first two pictures i stared at this morning twice. here and here.

phrew...

2011-06-06T07:48:00.004-04:00

he's back.

it's kind of funny to me. he walked in the door, said something utterly epic...like, oh, baby!...and suddenly? i feel it.

the left side of my head is killing me. my front tooth is numb and chipped and it startles me when it catches a burst of wind. or, say, whenever i breathe. which isn't that often, really. my jaw clicks when i chew, which is something i've been trying not to do anyway because of my fractured nose. apparently, all those parts are connected. oh, and my neck and shoulder area - the one that esmé describes as "where your wings are." - can't really move like the instruction manual promised.

i'm whining, aren't i? i am.

i just think it's funny how your mind takes care of your body until someone else can.

uncle sugar smells like espresso in the morning. i like that quality in a man.

just an accident...

2011-06-02T08:29:00.009-04:00

so. esmé and i are fine and everything's fine. we just got into a little car accident yesterday.

see how i did that? important stuff first. minor details second. it's a lesson i learned after i sent a faraway mail to uncle sugar yesterday, when the subject line read esmé and i just got into a huge car accident and we're going to the hospital now!

and then on the inside, i put all the i think we're going to be fine...there's not much blood details.

anyway. from what i can piece together, esmé and i were listening to pitbull one minute and then getting blindsided the next by a guy whose brakes apparently didn't work the way brakes should at, say, a stop light. the entire driver's side of our car is smashed.

i couldn't care less about the car.

aside from a lump on esmé's little forehead and a little fracture in my nose and a black eye and a bruised-up arm, we're doing well. can't stop misting up whenever we look at each other, but we're doing well.

uncle sugar, on the other hand, is an absolute wreck. i so wish i could let you read his mail back to me after about a million phone calls. let me see if i can find some nice parts...hmmm...how about this: i want to rip that mothertrucker's {my edit and the term he used back when he was an angry eight.} head off. find out where he lives. i want to talk to him. no, wait. this is sweet: he'll need to pay for all medical. and damages. and my anger. or this: i want to send gracie over to slit his throat.

excuse me while i wipe a tear.

if i think about it...really think about it...i start crying. and i can't get esmé's face in my rear view mirror out of my eyes. i see it non-stop. i can't breathe when i think of how our story could've ended. and to tell you i'm grateful that our injuries aren't major and game-changing and devastating? i need to make up a new word because that one doesn't begin to cover it.

poor thing keeps looking at me and fake-smiling so i won't notice all her tears piling up in her big blues. she keeps repeating my words right back at me: we're fine. we still have each other. i'm so glad we still have each other.

note: if you talk to her and she mentions anything about a big fat jackass dummy too busy talking on the phone to be bothered with brakes and red lights...well...i don't know whose words those are. we can blame uncle sugar. except we all know he uses much more colorful language.

catch you later. cutie pics because my ray-bans got smashed and i miss them already. also, that second pic makes me smile. i need a smile. say nice things to anyone you like. it's better that way. just in case. and i really am fine. especially since the doctors told me i'd for sure be sore today and a few after this; you know i'm just passive-aggro enough to prove them wrong, yes? so weird. xoxo.

advice...

2011-05-27T08:41:00.008-04:00

so remember when i told you about her? well. she's moving her family to new york. this. week. that thrills me. makes me forget all about my girlies three never listening to me.

now i'm in full-on advice mode. oh, you? you should move to bolivia. it's warm there. and you? wear more black. less patterns. also, eat more jellybeans. they don't hurt your taste-buds after over-indulging.

hmm. my advice isn't nearly as golden written out as it is when it's sitting in my head.

since uncle sugar's been traveling, we've been emailing. now, he and i talk a lot. a lot a lot. that guy has such great stories. i remember when we first met in college and he'd come to see me on the weekend. just before he walked out of the door on sundays, i'd ask him about...ohh...bullfights. and he'd spend an hour describing one he saw in spain. another time, it was the holocaust museum in paris. another time, it was a heartbreaking conversation with a palestinian. and on forever on.

i have much different tales. less facts, for sure.

anyway. we're back to telling stories back and forth. written out, they're so much more precious. meaningful. intentional. does that make sense?

i told him i'm going to keep writing to him even after he comes home. and he wrote back isn't that what you're doing with mackin ink?

yes, pat. this is all for you.

images from here and here. also. my nephew - i can't even brag enough about this guy. so supra-brainy and fielding full-ride ice hockey scholarships to major smarty-pants unis in, say, boston and pretty much every other cool city. someday, i'll tell you about my sister-in-law christina. greatest mom ever invented. - made a rap video with his friends ABOUT CALCULUS. i think it's about calculus. you know how i am with math. anyway. they're studying for their AP calculus exams and they all want to {and will} earn perfect fives. i don't know...i think hard-working rapper boys who love math need a little extra love. here's the link if you want to give them any. theo starts around the 2.32 mark. also, he's fluent in german and italian. they only moved to the states a few years ago from italy, so you can still sort of hear an accent. ugh. can you tell how i love that boy? have a sweetheart weekend, you little sweethearts...xoxo.

my weekly wrist....

2011-05-26T09:28:00.008-04:00

when uncle sugar is away, i wear his watch.

the exchange always goes the same way. he clasps it on my wrist and says don't lose it like he's not talking about the watch. and i wave my hand and say oh, pat...it's insured! and then he says don't lose it like he's actually talking about the watch.

it is a leetle stressful, but far less so than...say...the nightmare i had last night.

we were living in the next place where we're set to live, and the girlies were playing lacrosse catch on the back lawn. all of a sudden, an anaconda slithered into the scene.

{note: this morning, i wiki'd whether or not there are any anacondas in the next place where we're set to live. there are not. however, there are reticulated pythons that can grow as long or longer as anacondas. also, they are faster and more agile. and that news kind of stinks.}

i screamed for the girlies to come. and they turned and looked at me and asked why? or what? i can't remember and both words honestly make my blood turn black.

used to be, i could fake-whistle {i can't whistle. did you know this? so i make this sound like psst-psst. and then my girlies and everyone else in the universe who can't whistle turn and look at me. it's the best i can do.} and the girlies would come running. no questions.

used to be, they told their teachers that, no, in fact there are six senses. the sixth one is the one that tells you when someone's going to kidnap you. now? their sixth sense is a creepy whisper from the top bunk...i see dead people.

used to be, we'd head back to the states for a visit and they'd ask their nona why the heck she was driving with her windows open. someone can throw a bomb in your car, nona! did she not know this? illinois is a dangerous place.

oh dear. i'm trying to think of an ending for this post and i'm all why am i telling these poor things about fake whistles and reticulated pythons?! how did i end up here? i was supposed to walk in, show you my wrist, maybe tell you how i am missing my uncle sugar and how i wear his watch and these ridiculous kukui beads he bought from a gift shop and how someone yesterday asked why i never wear my wedding rings and how i answered ummm. the guy's name is tattooed on my foot. i need the rings, as well?!

oh dear. the end.

dumb...

2011-05-25T08:28:00.008-04:00

i never really understand how desperately i need uncle sugar until he's far away and more than a little out of range.

his responses to all my worries - and you know i have a few. ugh. - are usually enders.

after i agonize for five or ten about what may appear on the surface to be super-nonsense but really really matters when you erase all that really really really matters in the world, he replies accordingly.

which usually sounds like that's dumb. or she's dumb. or i don't want my babies anywhere near dumb.

i know what you're thinking. "karey. that's not-so-great a reply. a four-year old can do better than that."

well. to this i say...try it.

the next time someone's trying to make you feel small or trying to seem like they're way bigger than you, look at them. shake your head as though you're trying to clear them from your memory, and say to them, "you're. dumb." dripping with dismissal.

and then walk away. or stay. whatever. it won't matter because they. no. longer. matter.

wait. whoa. i just remembered a very very important part: DO NOT SAY THIS OUT LOUD! that would be a very very bad thing. and you would not feel good about yourself. and what if you all of a sudden found yourself smack in the middle of a four-year old kind of an argument? like, no...you're dumb. you are! no, you are!

you must keep this thought in your head where such thoughts belong. for example, i keep mine in between "those pants are giving you an unfortunate wedgie, madame." and that old chestnut "your kid is a mute dolt."

ugh. do you even know what pat might say about this post? i do, too. and he would be right.

i'd much rather he were here.

i love the vast dirty land that is tumblr. found images here and here.

happy tuesday...

2011-05-24T08:42:00.005-04:00

be back in a bit with words. probably not better than these, though...

awesome, yes? found here. have a sweetheart tuesday, you little sweethearts. xoxo. and thank you again for your sweet everythings yesterday. they meant...well...everything.

normal...

2011-05-23T14:25:00.006-04:00

my doctor's office called, and i'm fine!

or, as the nurse phrased it, as normal as you can be, honey.

between me and you and don't you dare tell a soul, i ignored that teeny dig and got a little choked up. i called uncle sugar straight-away and my fine sounded like a sob. he laughed it away as he always does, with a drawn-out, four syllable baby!

he asked baby...why do you still get so upset?

i guess probably because i'm still so upset.

next check-up, i'm going to be braver. more casual. totally all "what has two thumbs and doesn't care? this girl!" thank you for helping me through this one. it'll never happen again. promise. xoxo. p.s. what has two thumbs and is totally lying her pants off and will need you again for sure? this girl. also, i adore rose-colored glasses.

miffed...

2011-05-20T10:44:00.008-04:00

i am miffed. or something else, but i can't really define it.

i can't get my mammography results because they can't give that information over the phone. in fact, they can't even give that information to me. nope. they have to give it to my new creepy doctor who will then let me know when she's back in the office. next week.

yesterday, i was waiting for my appointment and trying to read an espn magazine - because that's what magazine a women's radiology clinic should stock - and trying like mad not to look at the woman wiping tears from her eyes and trying even harder than that not to look at her husband, whose hand was gripped so tightly around her knee and whose leg was tapping scared-nervously and trying most harder than that not to look at her mom...who, damn it, was sitting stiffly and holding her purse in her lap and looking like she wanted to be holding her baby instead. and the girls at the desk were giggling on the phone.

and i wanted to tell them to knock it off, their pretending that there was anything funny left in the world.

then i was waiting in my little robe and missing my lotions and potions and thinking i certainly did not smell like me, when i overheard the nurse talking to the woman in the room next to mine. all business. when did you find the lump? did you find it or did your doctor find it? is this your insurance? do you have secondary insurance? and when the woman had a question, it was all business. i'm sorry, ma'am. you'll have to talk to your doctor about that. i'm sorry, ma'am. i can't speak to that. i'm sorry, ma'am. i'm not allowed to say.

and i wanted to tell her to knock it off, with her third-grade teacher tone.

my first mammogram after my sister died took place in oman. the technician in the room with me was fully covered, spoke very little english or just chose not to, and took most of her time making sure i didn't feel naked. afterwards, i asked if everything looked okay. and she looked. and she looked some more. and then she nodded and said okay. you're okay.

and i remember losing it. like tears waterfalling. spilling my heart out and telling her all about my sister and my heart-broken mom and my babies and how i just have to stay okay. and she sat next to me and put her wing around me and just kept saying how everything's okay.

i had a few in jordan with the same level of care and understanding. one tech even showed me film of a patient with a lump...just so i could see how different her scans looked from mine.

both countries, not one question about whether or not i'd pay. nothing to do with secondary or primary insurance or by law, i'm not allowed to say.

uncle sugar is right. i swim upstream. i'm drawn to different every time. i am a brat.

i was just talking to my doctor's office.

"ma'am. we leave at noon. there will be no one here to read your results."

"can't you stay a little extra today?" i asked softly.

"ma'am? i'm sorry?" with her third-grade teacher voice.

"i hate it here." i said even softer.

"ma'am?" moving up to fourth-grade, at least.

yeah. i guess miffed is not exactly the right word. most of the ones above are. xoxo. photos from idon'tknowwhere.

my other wrist...

2011-05-18T10:10:00.005-04:00

my morning's already been a little crazed.

mostly due to a sleepless night worrying over esmé's naughtiness, a two a.m. search for a stinkbug in the pitch black, three girlies to three schools, and finding my new neighbor's lost dog on my front lawn. eating a rabbit. that had probably been eating my front lawn a few minutes earlier. circle of life. plus ants.

i think there are two types of people in the world. those who spray their counter-tops and entire kitchens with raid until everyone's coughing...and those who do not.

cough.

i'm having a heck of a time finding joy in this wednesday. i just am. i'm laughing about it, but also kind of rolling my eyes and sighing a little, too. and then! the woman called to remind me about my mammogram tomorrow and my response was honestly "uhhh...like i've been thinking about anything else all week!"

so smart and kind.

anyway. my right wrist cheers me up immensely. i wear this bauble mostly when i shouldn't. with tee shirts and flip-flops.

the stones race all the way 'round in varying degrees of blue. uncle sugar said it reminded him of my eyes.

we should all remember that...telling someone that you gave them this particular gift because it reminded you of their something-whatevers. it makes the gift sound more like i love you.

{esmé's taken to mixing all her puzzles together to make it more of a challenge. this is an endearing quirk, i think.}

life is like a carnival...

2011-05-17T09:46:00.007-04:00

we took the girlies three for a quick burst of carnival last night. rain clouds have been popping since it came to town, but there was a short serendipitous window where swim team was cancelled {by grae} and uncle sugar came home a little early and esmé and i...well...we're always available for adventure.

i think you can tell a lot about yourself by the way you respond to a carnival. i really do.

take lillie, for example. the little charmer tried to talk nearly every gamer into accepting her tickets instead of money. shocked every time when the men growled and pointed to the sign.

oh dear, she'd say. i've no money. and then she'd turn slowly and walk away, waiting for them to see her sadness draped over her slumped shoulders and stop her. recognizing for the first time in their grizzled little lives that carnivals are about so much more than making money.

apparently, it's difficult to see such things with cross-eyes.

grae was in heaven. truth be told, we went for her. that little thing loves a good freak show. she didn't care as much about the rides as she did to see to the world's tallest horse, the world's smallest devil boy, a goat with five legs, and a midget bull. also, she was clearly checking the ticket taker at the door of this exhibit for his...errr...special peccadillo.

he had a few.

remember this quote? i think of it every time i see her walk around in the world.

esmé. oh, esmé. she was dead-silent the entire time unless we were on a death ride. she let out an occasional wooo! threw her hands up in the air like uncle sugar taught her, and then grabbed the bar in front of her like it would actually save her. silly girl.

at one point, she hisspered to me everyone's so pretty here.

i scrunched up my face and looked around and scrunched up my face even more. are you kidding me, esmé?

she took a deep, shaky breath and looked around again. well. i'm sure they're nice. to someone.

i like a girl who can dig a compliment out of dirt.

after a deep-fried oreo and one shared funnel cake, we escaped for some nasi goreng and satay. just practice for our next adventure...

it's true, isn't it? how you respond to carnivals is really close to how you respond to life? maybe? anyway. i want to be the first photo when i get a little older. and that is one gorgeous line in the second, yes?

a birthday...

2011-05-16T10:46:00.006-04:00

so. today would be my dad's birthday.

i remembered while putting esmé to bed last night. i was telling her a story about one of my grandmothers. she only really lives in one of my memories about a trip to kmart, starring my incessant and - in retrospect and from my somewhat adult vantage point - annoying requests that she buy me a toy. i called her leona harvey, which is probably why she said no to every request.

esmé's favorite parts of my stories are always the ones i invent. like how this leona harvey character asked me to sit on her lap and i said no, i did not think that would be a good idea. but she insisted and you know how grandmothers are and you kind of know how i am...so i sat in her lap and then sneezed on her face so that she would never ever never again make the mistake of making me do something i did not wish to do.

that did not really happen with me and leona harvey. it did, however, happen with a work friend of my father's.

when i told esmé about my dad's birthday, she smiled, cooed a little as she does when she sees a shade of sadness, and then asked "did you love him?"

i told her he was my favorite person. and how, every time i'm with my oldest brother, i get a lump in my throat. he reminds me so much of my dad.

you know, my brother emptied out everything of my dad's after he died. his gun collection, his cane collection, all of his tools and anything else that had belonged to him. he took everything home and set it all out where he could see them anytime he wanted to see them. the rest of us didn't care one bit. not one. they had been best friends and we were all glad they'd had each other.

used to be, he and my dad spoke nightly after either seeing each other or speaking a few times during the day. for a few weeks after my dad died, i think he called my mom or one of my uncles or anyone else who could possibly take my dad's place as his best friend.

i don't think he's ever found another.

sometimes, when i try to define true love, i think of those two.

do you ever wonder how hard people will miss you after you're long gone? i do.

eh. it's probably my doctor's appointment or maybe that my mammogram is scheduled for thursday or maybe that i'm just plain worry-head. seriously: i'm convinced i have every cancer symptom google-able. even the silent ones.

happy monday, you. did you have a sweetheart weekend like i told you to have? say yes...photos from hella cool stash studios. look for one of those cuffs to appear in my weekly wrist post someday soon. and? her model is named esme. did you know i love that name?

forms...

2011-05-13T14:09:00.006-04:00

i have so much to tell you and nothing at all. which may be why i'm scowling right now. either that, or it's because it's 2.40 in the afternoon and i've not had any coffee yet.

i went to the doctor today for a check-up and i wanted my blood pressure to be king, so i passed on the espressos. it worked. ninety-five over seventy. {is it weird that my original sentence was ninety-five over seventy! what now?! i think it might be weird.}

so many silly forms, yes? they started making me a teensy bit angry the third time i was asked to promise to pay my bill. which may be why, when i reached the box where you're asked how many people in your family had, like, cancer...i checked not applicable.

that was bad. but it's not like it could get worse...

until the doctor asked me again about all that cancer business. i took a deep, adult breath, and decided it was not the right time to tell her that my maternal grandmother, father, and oldest sister had all had cancer.

until they died.

of cancer.

I KNOW! i don't know what i was thinking. i kind of feel bad about it. but also? i kind of feel like i just rewrote my life. and a story without anyone i love dying of cancer is a fine one to read every once in a while. even if it is fiction.

uncle sugar called me a brat. i probably am. but...i'm a brat with a blood pressure of ninety-five over seventy! what now?!

dear blogger. you may delete this post anytime you'd like. no one will mind one bit. promise. xoxo and have a sweetheart weekend, you little sweethearts. photos that make absolutely no sense in relation to this post found here from this tumblr. which make perfect sense.

my weekly wrist...

2011-05-11T11:07:00.009-04:00

one of my favorite questions ever in the history of questions is is it real?

because then i know you're kind of a jerk.

kidding. {not really.}

my standard answer is can you see it? then it's real.

do you have a more grown up answer than that? share, please...

uncle sugar loves real. when he gave me my first fancy watch, i burst into tears. i think i didn't want to be that girl in a fancy watch. and it wasn't until i insured it and the guy from usaa told me how his father had given him a fancy watch that his father had given to him...that i understood the meaning behind it.

i'd say anytime someone's scheduling you into their forever happily ever after...well...it's pretty wonderful, if you think about it.

and before you even ask. the bracelets? i think one might be real, but i can't be sure. pat won't tell me anymore lest i start crying again. the rings? umm. can you see them?

{i was going to add comma jerk, but i can't even joke about that with you! you're my sweethearts, through and through. you just are. going to play fancy lady with esmé now. have a sweetheart wednesday, you. xoxo.}

basketball shorts...

2011-05-10T08:55:00.008-04:00

i should not be writing one thing today. i really shouldn't.

grae and i went to lillie's choir concert last night, giggling and chair dancing for the entire hour. especially when we saw lillie singing her high girlie part as directed, and then jumping in without thinking to the low boy part. you would've died. she dipped her little chin and raised her eyebrows like she was singing in front of the mirror or me to crack herself up. and then she remembered where she was and made that "huh? who did that?" guilty pink face.

i love it when those two are carefree.

we had a few physicals and immunizations yesterday, and the doctor asked lillie if she wanted me to stay in the room. i kept a calm face but kind of held my breath, wondering what she'd want. she asked if i could stay. even added a please.

i thought i wouldn't mind staying with her forever.

this morning, i asked if she could stop forming the red babybel wax into random balls and smiley faces all over our walls, windows and mirrors. she rolled her eyes.

she came downstairs, presumably dressed for school, in basketball shorts. basketball shorts?! really?! i kind of lost it a little and said no. way. about ten times.

what message are you trying to send, lill? i asked. hey, guys! anyone want to shoot a quick game of horse? what? oh, me? no, i've never in my entire twelve years played one stitch of basketball unless you count the time i whipped one at gracie at target when i was four and then laughed so hard i peeped my pants in the sporting goods section and had to buy a new outfit and then laughed so hard when i retold the story to grammy that i almost peeped my pants again, and i don't even think my family owns a basketball but today seemed like a good day to break out the low-riders AND UNTIE MY SHOELACES!

she rolled her eyes again and said "you hate me."

and then i stopped and smiled and reminded her that she is my first baby. i've loved her longer than the other two. i remember every single day of her life. her chandelier smile lit up the auditorium last night, just as it has added a night light to my heart. she's taught me how to love, how to worry, and how to care for another person so much that you'd end just to give her a beginning.

also, she has fantastic lips and a really cool bump on her nose that makes her look thug-lite, and how in the world could i hate someone with those qualities?

and that the only thing i hate are basketball shorts. and skeevy dads. but mostly basketball shorts. so please go change.

after the older two left, i tucked in their sheets on their top bunks so that they can check their beds easier just in case a stinkbug tries to sneak in while they're at school. lillie still keeps her stuffed animals from when she was brand new, as does grae, and i arranged them all carefully.

esmé noticed that my eyes got a little misty, and asked what was so sad about drowsy and petey, both a little more than twelve.

ohhh, i answered. it just breaks my heart a little...they're getting so old.

all these photographs remind me of my lillie in different ways. here, here, and here.

yes to this...

2011-05-09T08:15:00.005-04:00

major weekend. lovely times one billion. minus a few for the birthday cards i allowed the girlies three to choose for their dad. apparently, they are at an age where bums and boobies cards - as esmé affectionately calls them now - rule.

the notes they wrote inside, however, were adorable and made our boy get a little misty. as did my birthday plans for him.

i just backspaced over the words i'm and so and happy and these and days. it's funny how nervous i get about happiness. like someone's going to steal it away from me as soon as i declare my love for it.

i tried to explain this feeling to lillie a few weeks ago...about karma and guilt and worry and superstition and all the other nonsense i know i should throw away one of these days...and she was so out-of-character matter-of-fact in her response. you've no one mean around you that wants to steal your good stuff, she said with a little wave of her hand.

and she's so right. i think i've gotten rid of all those people. finally.

the only people these days that worry me are small. one in particular is quite tiny. and she's making me promise daily that i'll be sure to remember that, for her birthday in september, she wants a really really really good card. one with lots of bums and boobies. i will probably say yes.

last night, we were standing in the front and chatting with neighbors as the sun set. smack in the middle of a funny story, my neighbor stopped, pointed to my doorway behind me, and asked "does esmé always drink milk straight from the container?"

lillie might be only a little right. there are people around me who want to steal my stuff. off to the grocery to buy milk for my coffee this morning...

i want gray hair so bad, i can taste it.