this is a page for

Browsing Tag: love

Chili Ain’t No Picnic

Saturday evening, we had a chili picnic. Yes, it was for the small children.  Yes, I said “chili” and “picnic” together, as in, we had a picnic with chili, inside.  I have indeed not been evaluated for psychosis, but might agree with you that I was a little out of my mind with that idea. Oh, and did I mention that our family room carpet is (was) off-white (again, one of my good-at-the-time ideas…)?  Brilliant plan, I tell you.  Brilliant.  It started with us inviting a couple of people over to watch the 49ers-Saints game.  I was going to make some chili anyway, and David absolutely loves the Niners, and, well, it’s the playoffs.  See, my dear husband has this propensity to follow teams that are based absolutely nowhere near where he lives.  His argument when I tease him about it is that it gives us an excuse to travel to watch the teams play.  And I’d be cool with that if that actually meant we were jetting back to northern California every year to do so.  But no, we’re not.  What I got…

Really, for Kathy

So, we’re on our way tomorrow to the funeral of my mom’s cousin, whom I sort of, kind of, absolutely adored. I didn’t know her as well as I would’ve liked–it’s kind of hard to do so when you only see each other at weddings/funerals/birthday parties. The illness that lead to her death was sudden news to us, and all I kept saying, to my mom and to David was, “Kathy?! Our Kathy?” Because it just didn’t seem possible that somebody like her could cease to live. This isn’t meant to be a depressing post, so you can keep reading. Honest. I just had to tell you that what I loved most about Kathy–besides her laugh, of course, which seemed to come easily and sounded exactly like her mother’s–was how much she liked me. Isn’t that terribly narcissistic, to think about yourself like that when someone’s died? But that’s how I felt. It was always so clear to me that she really, truly liked me–she liked…

Because It Flies, Time Does

In my ongoing effort to reclaim my house from the clutter that has been awake at night, sneaking onto tabletops and into closets, giggling as it stuffs itself into my diaper bag and laundry room, I have finally–finally!–begun the attack on the very last pile of Crap With Which I Don’t Know What to Do. This stack of messiness includes everything from recipes I want to load onto my computer, thank you notes that were written but never sent, a list of songs I want to download (because, honey, I have gift cards to burn), and, yes, a check or two from Quinn’s birthday that I have yet to put into the bank (sorry, Aunt Mary. I’m on it tomorrow, I swear).  It is the final frontier, people, my last hurdle to jump. And I will, I tell you, I will get to the other side.  Even if that means finally scanning the ultrasounds I got to keep from the baby’s first photo op.  And by baby, I mean, Saoirse, you know.  I told you, this pile of papers can tell some stories. So this afternoon, while Saoirse…