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.

mind reading...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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....

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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...

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.}