Christmas was sort of cross-country-crazy this year. In Texas, we had Christmas with the Klinger Cousins, the Johnson Cousins, and Christmas Eve (otherwise known as a ridiculous number of presents) followed by Christmas dinner. Then Paul and I hit the road for more Christmas with the Pendergasts and Jimmy/Misty. “Vacation” is a sprint.
Thanksgiving came and went as simply as it could. Mom and Dad drove to Texas this year because Julie and Gracies were in Disneyworld. A fairly painless affair if I do say so myself!
Last weekend Helen and I booked it down to New Orleans for a weekend of sex, drugs and rock & roll. FAIL. Helen tortured me with a one-hour Insanity Workout. Adam made us play incredibly difficult drinking games. And I bought some books in the French Quarter. All in all, exhausting. But fun.
Christmas was a rather chill affair this year. It snowed on Christmas day, making it impossible to not hear mom do lyrically challenged renditions of “White Christmas.” Mom got a cold (didn’t stop the singing). Gracie got a cold. Julia got a cold. Adam was coming down with a sore throat when I busted out …
I know my readers (all 2) are sick of the baby pictures. But these are too sugary, too fattening, too obnoxiously adorable to not repost here. See all at http://graceweart.com/
The Pendergast Thanksgiving was another lovely, messy affair, enhanced by intermittent diaper changes and breast-feedings. Frank and the gang brought an iPad that made me and Adam jealous. Julia talked more about her boobs in one day than in her whole life. Mom was like a chicken sans head, but cooked one of her better …
I got the call at 4am on Saturday. Gracie Raine is here in all her pointy headed babiness. Check out Adam’s new website to celebrate all the gracieness: http://graceweart.com
It was a long drive and a big turkey and a huge inflated gymnasium with a lot of kids and setup and more like a relief that we made it this far.
1. My mother (check) Is going to get something that has a smooth surface (this is b/c I am not the daughter who doles the pictures and I do think a book will go with her gift. The book will be something gentle and concerning a passage. Neither urban nor contemporary. The card I will …
I like my trousers now. Caked with what, red clay splotched from tromping the lake? Wasp bodies pittering the broken dock? Or knots that guy made to illustrate the point. Georgia is for the order of things. Them sweet green seeing hills. Banisters, brick houses, houses with gates, frazzled animals on laser leashes. See the …
This is my grandfather. Died when my dad was a little kid. Motorcycle accident. He was a writer for a small paper in Lake Crystal, MN. I like to think about him. Before my grandma died, I used to stare at pictures of her on the walls. I couldn’t seem to put the two images …
I keep thinking of something my mother told me over lunch one day: You’ve got to use your looks, while you still have them. Now, my mother isn’t a superficial person. She’s just got a hawkish eye. And based on her anthropological data, the breaking point is thirty five. At thirty five, women look loose around …
When I was a kid we found a canoe. Now this wasn’t a symbol of a canoe. No tropes or anything like that. Just a red canoe, half-submerged in a little cove we were fishing in. I hate fishing, so I remember wondering if we were stealing it, imagining how angry they would be when …