A Perfect Storm

Today I was catching up on a blog I enjoy, and the post I was reading was mostly photos of a camelia bush...a bird's nest...and some amazingly bright blue robin's eggs in the nest. So simple and perfect. So gorgeous and symbolic of spring. And suddenly, I started crying.

It was kind of like yesterday when I drove myself home early from work in a weird mental haze, feeling drugged without actually being drugged. It was all I could do to drag myself into the house and to the bed, utterly fatigued and unhinged and crying and apologizing to BH for being such a mess.

I'd figured out at some point yesterday that this horrible feeling was very familiar--it's exactly like I'd felt after I got my thyroid removed and before I'd started my synthetic hormone replacement. I called my endocrinologist and told them what was going on, and now I've got to go get blood work done to see if I need my meds adjusted. If my thyroid levels come back within normal range, I guess we'll just chalk all of this up to me being nuts, which would be a surprise to exactly no one.

So combine this weird hypothyrodism bullshit with the whole root canal drama from last week (that continues tomorrow with Part Two of my dental appointment), the fact that I busted the FUCK out of my arm by falling into my nightstand last Thursday night when I got out of bed in the middle of the night to go pee (I mean, y'all should SEE my arm...it's sick), all of the weird shit going on at home, and the fact that I have to go to fucking JURY DUTY next week when I am waaaaaaaaaay too busy to be out of the office right now, and I am one gigantic ball of stress.

Blech.

But lest you think that I am all gloom and doom these days, there are good things going on too:

Got to spend some quality time with some of my favorite people this past weekend--my friends Josh, Michelle, and their daughter Ruby who were visiting from Portland, OR. We ate vegan treats and swam in the river. The Geej and Ruby played and had a blast. It was wonderful.

Throwing rocks.

The Pedernales

I get to see my friend Stacy (from Atlanta) in San Antonio in a couple of weekends. I'll be staying in a hotel! By myself!! Whoot!

I got tickets to see Nick Offerman (a.k.a. Ron Swanson) during the Moontower Comedy Festival.

I'm also going to see Jeff Mangum, mastermind behind one of my favorite albums of all time: Neutral Milk Hotel's "In An Aeroplane Over the Sea."

Work is rocking. I'm busier and happier than I've been in a long time, and the team I'm on is amazing.

So you know, there's that stuff...

I promised pictures.

Our little casita. On 20 seculded acres. Heaven.

The sunset as seen off the side porch. We didn't get as much "porch time" as we'd hoped for due to the cold temperatures and brisk winds. Next time...

"The Window" in Big Bend National Park. Perfect weather. Amazing view.

The Rio Grande. What you see across the river is Boquillos, Mexico.

The Handsome Devil's Aftermath

You see that guy down center, front? The one in the kick-ass shirt? That's my dad, Christmas, 1971 (I think). Behind him in the tan shirt is my mom's dad. To his left in the blue shirt, my mom's youngest brother (my uncle) Richard (more on him in a future post). And to my dad's right, in the Elvis Costello specs, my uncle-by-marriage (at the time), "Cash" Cashen.

I have a gagillion photos. However, one subject I have very few photos of is my father. So imagine my surprise when I saw this very good shot of him yesterday. Long story, but my aunt brought it to a family function, and whammy, there he was in all his early 70s youth and handsomeness, grinning like the Cheshire cat at me from this snapshot. I was taken aback, to say the least. Plus, there's no moustache! My dad was KING of rocking the "Smokey and the Bandit" 'stache both long before Burt had even considered facial hair of any kind and way WAY after the whole mid-70s moustache craze had faded. So seeing him so youthful and thin and clean shaven is, well, odd. But at the same time, this photo is SO him. It perfectly captures his devilish charm. I can see the wicked glint in his dark eyes. I can also see my nose and my browline and forehead when I look at him. And my very, VERY large ears.

Looking at this photo, I can understand how my mom would've been taken in by him. I can almost understand why, when she was only 17, she thought that marrying him was a good idea. And I can see that mysterious, hard-to-like guy who intrigued me--his only child--and pissed me off so much at the same time. And oh my God, the thing this unexpected wonderful rare picture makes me do the most is miss him so very, very much.

For those of you reading this who have never lost a parent, I'd like to ask a few things of you:

• 
  
  Please forgive them for being so frustratingly like you--and at the same time--so freakin' different that it is absolutely maddening.
• 
  
  Forgive them for the times when they were younger than you are now, and didn't really know what the fuck they'd gotten themselves into by having kids and, as a result, made some pretty stupid decisions.
• 
  
  Forgive them for the fact that they were human and dealing with serious adult stuff that you, unfortunately, had to bear the brunt of as a kid.
• 
  
  Appreciate them for the sacrifices they made for you then that you can only fully appreciate now.
• Understand that they are deeply proud of you and love you, even if they rarely show you or tell you.
• 
  
  Appreciate every hug, kiss, phone call, e-mail and card you get from them. Because there will be one day in the future when you desperately want to speak with them, and it will punch you in the gut because you remember how long it has been since you last heard their eternally-familiar voice.
• 
  
  Think about the kind of person you want your kids to remember you being. THAT is your legacy. Not the bullshit material crap you leave behind, but who you show them you are.
• 
  
  What matters to you?
• 
  
  What makes you happiest? Most pissed?
• 
  
  What's worth fighting for?
• 
  
  What brings tears to your eyes?
• 
  
  What music and foods do you love? 
• 
  
  Where is the most beautiful place you've ever been?
• 
  
  What is the thing you most wish you'd done (that you haven't)?
• 
  
  What's the thing you've done that you're proudest of?

THAT is your legacy! These are the memories that they will carry with them and share with their children and others whose lives they touch. When your kids don't know these things about you, then you've left them nothing.

Trust me.

Scenes from the summer

Punk/New Wave Karaoke Night with the girls.

Watching the Geej perform her role as a Turtle of Barton Creek in "Bella the Bat."

A minor leauge baseball game in Frisco, TX.

Sibling kitteh lurve.

The view and a salad from a WONDERFUL dinner at the Southwest Bistro in the Hyatt.

My utterly futile daily battle against bedhead.

Some horse lips flapping in the breeze while traveling down IH-35.

Staying cool by any means necessary.

Trying like Hell to keep the plants in our beds alive.

More salad. (This one's an heirloom tomato salad with olive vinagrette that I made.)

Keeping cool at the Hill Country Hyatt, in San Antonio.

Sporting a tattoo and braids because that's what you do when you're on vacation.

Going to Sea World on a day when there were no crowds or lines, which meant you got to ride this thing three times in a row with your fearless five year old.

Seeing the shows at Sea World. (Check out my mom's sweet purple hat with sequins on it! And is it just me, or does she look like she's about 40 rather than her real age?)

Eating more salad. (This one was a sumer squash, corn and shrimp salad, once again made by moi.)

And meeting this guy.

There. I feel sort of caught up. The Geej is now back in school (Kindergarten), and I am praying temperatures below 90 and rain on a daily basis. And so it goes.

Some recent images from my life.

A tofu, cherry tomato, penne and green bean salad that is SOFA KING good.

My sweet little car turned 10,000 miles old. Aww... And yes, I'm still in love with it and am very happy that I traded the big ol' Murano in on it.

BH brought this lovely work of art with him when he moved from Colorado. It now proudly hangs in our purple-walled dining room. We one day hope to have our very own den where we have a BITCHIN' paint-by-numbers collection on the walls.

The other night, while the Geej was bathing and I was folding laundry, she said in a VERY insistent and plaintive voice, "MOMMY!! Come here! You've got to SEE THIS!!" When I walked in to the bathroom, this is what was awaiting me. And she said, "Mommy! TAKE A PICTURE!!"

I worked from home a bit this week. Because we don't have a room that we can designate as an "office" (a MUST for our next house), I set up in the dining room. This time of year, in the late afternoon, the shutters make the most fantastic shadows on the wall in the afternoons.

This also makes for some pretty awesome kitteh-ready sunbeam action (as shown in my previous post). But here they are SHARING the sunbeam. I know it's kind of dark, but PLEASE look at Doug's face. Fookin' adorable.

No, that's not an armpit hickey given to me by BH because he finds me utterly irresistable. What that IS is the worst of several injuries I suffered while falling on my ASS tonight. I tripped over the power cord to this very laptop upon which I reach out to you fools, and boom, bang, bing, SMASH, I went down. On the way I hit my head, elbow, top of my foot. And my armpit caught on the corner/top of one of the dining room chairs and resulted in this loveliness. Man, I'm a spaz.

Okay, that's all for now. More soon...that is, IF I survive the goddamned "Build-a-Bear" birthday party The Geej and I have to attend tomorrow morning. I smell Xanax in my future...