google...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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}...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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

caught...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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.