Blackberries.

I wiped the blackberry juice off on my bare leg and watched it leave a deep purple mark. It reminded me of home. Blackberry stained and scratched as I stumbled through a thorny patch to get the biggest, juiciest fruit. The prize fruit the bears won't even venture toward for fear of the brambles. But I don't care. I know how good they taste. I emerge grinning with blackberry teeth and arms trickling with blood. Victorious.

What a memory. I memory that cannot be placed in any time. A memory that encompasses my childhood. A memory that could be placed in the summer I was twenty one just as soon as it could be from my fifth summer. It is a memory that goes along with bare, blackened, calloused feet. With brambles caught up in my ever tangled hair. With climbing through hay lofts and dropping down through trap doors into a burly old pony's stall. It slides through my memory hand in hand with dusty dirt roads and dandelion puffs and playing hide and seek in the piles of white, wrapped hay bales.

It is a memory of home, happiness, childhood, and innocence. It is a memory of summer.

But it is not summer. I am not home. I wipe my stained fingers onto my tanned, exposed legs on a March evening in Texas.

On an evening I'm missing home.

"The Evil" has subsided. It hasn't stopped, but it has calmed. It's on the back burner, simmering. It's enough to ignore. Enough that I have stopped crying at the very thought. Tears no longer stain my pillows each night. And so, to a point, we feel we may have grown stronger. We know it isn't over. We know we're far from being "in the clear." But we are out of the storm cloud. And now we wait. We wait to see if everything is ok or if everything is completely ruined.
I could break down. I could go mad. I cried to my mother that I wish I was there and that everything could be fixed. She told me to breath, to keep on living the beautiful life I've been given and to be thankful that I wasn't around. So I did what she said. I tried to forget and I rallied on.
And now, I am home. Not for moral support, not to try and  carry the burden. I am home to celebrate a life. To celebrate a new, beautiful, little girl as she enters the church. We are all here. Every brother and sister and wife. And although this has nothing to do with "the evil" and we have all agreed not to talk about "the evil," that this would be a "happy weekend," we all experienced a sense of relief as we gathered around our dinner table. We are all here. We all love each other incredibly. "The evil" had become so big, so horrid that we thought it would ruin our entire family, end our livelihood. And like anything that threatens a family's life, it brought us together. We say more "I love you"s and hug a bit tighter. It warms our heart and gives us comfort to know we are here for each other. We support each other. We will fight for each other. And no matter what falls apart, this family isn't going anywhere.

Dear Sister,

My Sweet Bear,

I’ve been having difficulty starting this. How can I presume to have knowledge enough to advise you? But as your sister, as your sponsor, as one who loves you so incredibly much, I want to try.

Sometimes I cannot believe you are sixteen. It thrills me and terrifies me at the same time. I am thrilled to see the woman you are becoming – you are beautiful, smart, a leader. Every day I amazed at your poise, your demeanor, your ability to carry on with a smile despite your illness.

But I am terrified. Terrified of what the world may have in store for you. I am scared because I remember when I was sixteen. I remember the trials, obstacles and heartbreak. High school was full of pressure and temptation. I made mistakes and had many regrets. IF I could spare you from these mistakes and just provide you with the lessons I would. But you may not make the same mistakes. No, you won’t. You are smarter than that. You have seen what it did to me. Unfortunately, you will make your own mistakes. You will cry. You will hurt. But you will learn.

Of course there will be millions of wonderful experiences as well. You will discover new things, you will live new experience, and you will find love.

You will find love in true friendships, love in a boy who makes your belly erupt with butterflies. Love in a mother who is always there no matter what you do, who seems to understand your deepest fears, your deepest desires; love in a your father who you will begin to understand as you grow older, who at the perfect moment will show his love and support though he may falter in his understanding of the vast emotions you are experiencing. Love in your brothers who will always strive to protect you, who will always support you but expect you to try your hardest and do your best. Love in your sisters who have been there from the beginning, who no matter how much you change, will always be the same. They – we – will be the constants in your life.

Most important, you will find the love of God. It is the most complex, most difficult love to understand and occasionally, to accept. But it is the most rewarding love, the most fulfilling. This love fills you, guides you, comforts you. This love makes you; it makes all the other loves in your life. All of these loves carry you through the difficult times, the wonderful times, even the plain-old, nothing special times.

Remember that love.

So, my pretty little sister, what advice can I give you?

1.       Always be yourself. Do not be embarrassed by who you are. Do not change to please others – you will regret it later and it will cause lasting damage. This is not uncommon, especially as you near college. So hold on to yourself. Love who you are. (I do!)

2.       Do not give in to pressure. This may be the most difficult piece of advice to follow because you may not notice the pressure. It could come in the form of friends talking, your friends beginning to change, beginning to have new experiences. You may feel left out, you may feel embarrassed for not joining them. But again, be true to who you are. Hold out. I promise you, looking back you’ll never think you were old enough.

3.       Take advantage of opportunities. Travel, be spontaneous, love. Take chances.

4.       Volunteer – give back, immerse yourself in a life you have never experienced and make it better.

5.       Do not worry about what others expect you. Do not worry about following the social norm.

6.       Make sure you are happy. Do not settle with simply content.

7.       Live life completely. Laugh often. Sing and dance every day, even if it is just in the kitchen.

8.       Work hard, commit to your dreams and fulfill them.

9.       Exercise. Seriously, it’s good for the body and the soul.

10.   No matter what – this is so important that I am saying it again – know that God loves you. He does. He needs you and you need him. Catholicism may be difficult at times, you may doubt, you may fall away. But you must never turn away from God. Without him life is empty. I have turned away and this is a lesson I do not want you to have to experience to learn from. It was the most difficult, empty time in my life. You need God, Bear. His miracles are always surrounding us. His love showers us. Love him.

There is my little bit of knowledge. It’s not nearly enough but it is all I have. Together we will learn more. You are a beautiful person Bear, you have a beautiful soul, and I am so blessed to be your sister. I love you a ridiculous amount.

With faith and love,

Annie

My House

I didn't have time to say goodbye. It had been the longest I had been home since I graduated high school, it had become familiar again, routine. It had become my life.
I had planned to do all of my "lasts." One last dinner at the restaurant, one last breakfast at the inn, one last sleep in my bed, one last fun day with my sisters, one last tea with my mom. But it all came on so fast. I was too busy to think about my lasts, to plan them. I don't remember my last breakfast or my last dinner because I didn't think it would be the last. My sisters were too busy and never home the week before. My mom was working every day while I was packing. The night before I left I was too occupied with what I may have forgotten and what I still needed to pack to appreciate my last sleep in my bed.
But did it really matter? The bed part I mean, things with my family I still ache for. But the bed I have slept in for the last six months wasn't "my" bed. It was the guest bed, in the guest room, where I had set up shop temporarily. My bed, if you can call it that since I only had it for two years before I moved out when I was 18, was now Bear's. My room was now Bear's. My room doesn't look anything like it did when I was in high school. It's a different color, rearranged just a bit differently, and covered in Bear's personality. And yet I still ache for it.
It's silly. I haven't lived in that house in five years. It was only my home for eight years, we had lived in two others (that I remember) before that. I have returned and left countless times. Yet this time, this time I have a special ache. A sad homesick - and I've only been gone a week - wishing I had made my rounds and said my proper goodbyes. Because this time, there will be no going back.

When my parents first announced they were selling the house, my sisters were distraught. I, however, felt ambivalent. They were going to move to the inn, right down the road; to the place that dominated my childhood memories. The inn is, and always will be, my real home. It was where I spent every free moment, where I made most of my closest friends, where I laughed, and grew, and loved. Where I discovered my love for horses and working with children, where I saw the praise and admiration in my father's eyes. It's where everything started.
So the fact that we were selling the house did not seem to mean much to me. Until I left. I realized, although I had only spent eight years of my life in that house, they were my most formidable years. Ten to eighteen. It was where I cried out all my adolescent tears, where I giggled over my first love, where I hid from the terrors of high school. It was the house I carved my name into; in a closet in one of my rooms, to leave my mark, so I could show it to my grandchildren as an old woman.
It's where I used to day dream I'd be proposed, out in the apple orchard just outside our front door. It's where I had always imagined my wedding reception would be, the twinkling lights and me in my white dress out on the back patio.
We had built the house to be our very own. It was designed specifically for our large family. We had the hopes and dreams that it would stay for generations. That children upon grandchildren upon great grandchildren would run through its halls, build forts in each room, and explore the large yard and woods.
Life, however, had other plans. It is sad it will no longer be our little home. But thankfully we can transfer those dreams back to the inn, where my parents began. Back to the small farmhouse they first moved into 27 years ago; with three little boys and great faith that they could survive the country. Five more children, four houses later, they are returning. Back to the simple roots of our little inn. Back to where my first memories began.

And maybe, back to where new memories and dreams will begin.

'welcome home'

I just want to travel

A couple days ago I announced to my mother I had made another career change, and then five minutes later I took it back.
"I don't know what I want to do! I just want to travel, that's it, just travel." I whined. Living back at home I've become such an amazing whiner.
"Then why are you plopping yourself down in Texas for a year?" Mom responded defiantly - Mom has also become very snappy. Oh we make a happy household.
"Because I've always wanted to live in Texas! So I'm trying it out. And then in a year I'll go to Nepal for three months, then I'll come  back and make more money then go --"
"ANNIE!" My mom interrupted me with an abrupt yell, "I want grandchildren!"
"Well in order for you to get grandchildren from me I need to find a man, and I don't see that happening any time soon."
"Not at the rate you're going! Why can't you just sit still for a minute and allow a man to actually meet you!"
"If he can't keep up he's not worth it! Oh and Mom, I am your fifth child, why don't you go bother the married children. Or even the ones who are in relationships." Also, side note here, she does have two granddaughters already, but they live in Denmark, and that makes her sad. She wants grandchildren stateside. "Also!" I begin to storm, "I am only twenty-three years old!" Here's the problem with that argument: all of the females in my family have either married, had a child, or had a very serious boyfriend that would quickly lead to marriage by the time they were my age. Usually by the age of twenty-one. My family is used to that. They expect that. I even expected it.
At nineteen I thought I had my life mapped out for me. I had a date picked out for my wedding to "the love of my life." We had a plan to live in Spain for a few years and come back home to start having babies.  Even after things crashed and burned with The Boy I still thought of myself as a girl who would settle down young, with a handsome man, have babies right away - and lots of them, live in the country with the white picket fence and a family dog.
I can't pinpoint when things began to change. But after living in Europe, after halfheartedly going on dates, meeting a wonderful man but losing him again due to distance, I realized that I didn't just want to be a wife and mother. I want to live my own life, have my own plans, be my own complete person.
Yes, of course I would still like to meet a man someday, I still absolutely want to have children, but I am in no rush. I am twenty-three, I have years ahead of me. Right now, I need to figure out what kind of life I want to live, who I want to be, where I want to be. And maybe, someday, someone will come along who wants the same things out of life, and we will continue to travel side by side.

She Lived With Laughter in Her Heart

I believe my epitaph (or I hope) will read, “She lived with Laughter in Her Heart.” At my house we have a sign that says “Live, Laugh, Love,” a saying that has exploded within the young lady population. It’s something to live by, and I believe my saying ties it all together.

My parents taught us to give everything of ourselves, to help others at every opportunity possible; to be aware that we are not the only ones in the world. They encouraged seizing the day, making the most of our one life, getting as much out of it as possible. They encouraged happiness and laughter and brotherly love. They encouraged adventure and fun and spirituality. They encouraged life.
My older brothers helped to enforce the idea of living into my days. They always did their best, were involved in anything they could. They followed their dreams, never worried about them not coming true. They always did what made them happy and what would benefit others the most. They learned not only in the classroom but around the world. They opened their lives to different cultures, different ideas, and different religions.

I live: As I heard stories and watched the lives of my brothers, I knew that life was nothing to take for granted. I wanted my part of it, and I wanted to give my part as well. So I did it. I became involved in many organizations in high school, I volunteered as much as possible. And, taking a leaf out of one brothers’ book, I took a year off after high school and moved to the Dominican Republic. I lived at an orphanage and taught English and volunteered at the local hospital. I savored every moment, whether in the classroom, at the hospital, or just out in the streets playing with the children.

I love: I hold every moment close to me. I reveled in the eyes of my young niece as she spoke her very first word. I felt the excitement of my sister’s first high school dance. I burst with pride and warmth when my brother proposed to the love of his life. I live for these moments, these moments of pure happiness and innocence. Of pure love. I love life. I love all the possibilities around me. I love the fact that everyone has a chance to make a better world.

I laugh: I am known for my smile and my laughter. I am known for my unfailing optimism, my energy, and my craving for adventure. There are countless moments around the dinner table I will never forget, where all ten of us dissolve into laughter we cannot suppress, where food goes untouched for minutes before we can compose ourselves enough to eat. There are study sessions and coffee breaks that are interrupted by giggles and cackles, telling that life is being enjoyed. Laughter rings through my house, whether at home or at school, raw and completely free. We are happy, despite the situations around us.

We are together, we are loved, we are whole, we are happy.

I am not one to sit back and let the world pass by. If there is something I want to do, I am going to do it. I cannot merely breathe through life. I must live it too. I have an urge to go out and save the world, and I am going to do everything I can to make it happen, with laughter in my heart.

A sponsor, a representative, a model of Faith

On Thursday my little sister will be confirmed, and she has chosen me as her sponsor. She may have chosen me because I was the easiest one to ask. I am her sister, I will be in her life forever, I am seven years older than her - so "wiser." And I would be home during her confirmation.
But to me it is a little more than that. Although my confirmation sponsor did not end up taking an active role in my life, much like my godparents have been in the shadows, I wanted to take my role as an example in faith very seriously.
I felt the same way when my brother asked me to be Clara's godmother. These people are asking me to be a role model, to be a witness of faith. And I do not want to fall short.
It is difficult, because I am not the model Catholic. I lapse in my faith, I fail to go to church every Sunday when I am away from home. I forget to pray. I put myself before God, before my faith, before everyone. I have faltered. I have been angry with God. I have turned my back on him. I have lived a life I am not proud of.
But I always go back. I always recognize that feeling of emptiness - isn't it funny how overwhelming emptiness can be? - as a yearning to be close to God once more. Is that enough? That I recognize through it all, no matter the paths I take, that God will always be there? Maybe not quite. I need to work on welcoming Him into my life, always.
It is tradition to give a gift to the confirmed. I have been scouring the webs (because there are no shops in my town - and even if there were, I have absolutely NO time to go anywhere...) for something wonderful to give her. But my brother is already getting her a crucifix, my grandmother is getting her a ring, and my mother bought her all the saint books she would ever need. So what am I left with?
I decided that the most meaningful present would be to write her a letter (and maybe buy her a pair of earrings).
But the letter would address more than our faith. Well, not more than our faith, because our faith encompasses everything. It comes out of the church and into our daily lives. Our love and worship of God flows into our friendships, our relationships, even into our education. God is behind our decisions, our goals, our thoughts, our worries. He is a part of everything. So when I write a letter to my sister about my faith as it pertains to her, it will be a letter about life, love, hopes, and dreams.
Hopefully God will send me inspiration, hopefully I will be able to use my hand to write His words. Hopefully I can lead my sister down a holy, happy path.

Stay tuned, I may post bits of the letter...

The AMAZING B5 and his Sister (hey, that's me!)

Almost all of my conversations with B5 are about how accomplished he is. It is very well known in the family that he is the most successful, worldly, smart, handsome, respectable. Except in our family, we don't care. Well, my mom cares, B5 is amaaaazing. But us "children" are all about who has the most fun (right now no one is winning because we're all super fun beings).
But the point of this post is B5 thinks he's the top, in fact I bet he sings that song to himself all the time. Not only is he the top, but all of his friends are too. He surrounds himself with friends from Yale, Harvard, and Brown and always talks about how smart they are and how they are going to become President and Astronauts and stuff.

Being his sister - and the absolute complete opposite of him, I surround myself with musicians and writers and aimless world wanderers - I feel the need to bring him down to earth. To my level. So  sometimes, no matter what he says, I dumb it down.
Our last phone conversation:

"I went to my interview with (I don't know, some important tech-y, nerdy, boring place) and I'm pretty sure I got it. I was talking to the Vice President and he was really impressed with my resume and my work in Kenya. And my friend Meredith, she's a sophomore, and she just got offered a job at Microsoft."
"Cool. I'm really proud of you! (because I really am!) I  finished an entire pint of Ben and Jerry's today."
"Uh... that's great Annie. So, um, what are your plans? How long are you staying at Mom and Dad's?"
"I'm moving to Texas."
"What? Why?"
"Because I'm awesome. My new life plan is to be awesome. Heyyy look at that, life plan ACCOMPLISHED."
There is silence on the other end as my little brother wonders how on earth we could be related.
"Um, great. Any other plans?"
"Yep, I'm going to date a musician and he is going to write a song about me. And then I'm going to break up with him. And then that song that he wrote is going to be his *big* song and he'll get all famous and I'll be like, hey, he wrote that song about me."
"Those are your plans?"
"I'm reaching for the stars B."
Then I change the subject to talking about all the awesome wine that I consumed that week. Because I love wine. And because until he turned 21 (last month), B5 was completely against drinking. And it still kind of bothers him how much I drink. So I talk about it. A lot.
To which he replies - word for word - "When I tell my friends about you, they don't believe me."
WIN! (haha I typed WINE first).
And then I squeal, "Oh my gosh you talk about me?!"

Finally he sighs and asks to talk to my mom. To which I reply "Catch you on the flip side, home dawg. Remember, Jesus loves me, and you should too."

My heathen brother and my wild imagination

B4 (brother number 4 in case you just started reading and you have no idea what all these Bs are. They are brothers. I have too many of them) (also when I told B4 what I referred to him as, he said "Before? why would you name me Before? Before what?")
Wow, ok, I'm going to start over.
B4 is a heathen. That is what we (and by we I really just mean my mother, but I say we so my mom doesn't start calling me a heathen too) call people in the family who don't believe in Jesus. People outside the family who don't believe in Jesus are beautiful, wonderful people. But, B4 is a heathen. I have to congratulate my mother in the fact that out of her eight children, only two of them are heathens. AND these two (B2 and B4) are the only two children in the family who have red hair. Which makes me giggle uncontrollably sometimes, because gingers don't have souls! This same fact does not make my mother giggle for some reason, even though I repeat it over and over again, just to make sure she understands.
I am not a heathen. As we have established, I love Jesus. We must also establish that drinking tequila with Jesus doesn't make you a heathen, it makes you awesome. And tipsy. And might also be the answer to bringing world peace because, as B1 once exclaimed, "I have never had a bad experience with tequila! Tequila just makes you HAPPY!" B1 is a 30 year old with two babies but always ready to go out and grab a margarita with me.
Anyway. The topic of B4's soul-less-ness has come up a lot lately. Every Sunday after church my family (grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins and their babies) invades the local bagel shop (we literally take over) and we have a nice little chat about the Jesus and love and my plans for life (seriously, how does this conversation always come up?). But because of Lent my grandmother has been thinking about the family members who are not at the bagel shop because they are soulless, fiery, heathens.
So on Wednesday my grandmother called my restaurant to make a reservation for five people on St Patrick's Day and then asked to talk to B4, who is a cook in the kitchen. As soon as he got off the phone my mother called him. When he got off with her he turned to me.
"I think they are going to have an exorcism."
This got me all excited and giggly and intrigued.
"Ha! They are going to save your heathen ass!"
My grandmother had called to invite him to dinner and then my mother called to make sure he said yes.
"Who are the five people?" he asked me.
"Hm, probably you, Gram, Papa, Jesus and St. Patrick. They're bringing in the big guns for this."
"There is going to have to be a priest. To perform the exorcism."
"Um, St. Patrick is a priest. And you don't think Jesus can handle an exorcism? He is JESUS. He sent the devil into a pack of swine and drove them over a cliff. Oooo I wonder if they will send the devil into our goats? I hope not, I like our goats."
"Annie, the devil isn't in me."
"The devil told you to say that. Good thing St. Patrick is coming. He'll get the devil out of you like he got the snakes out of Ireland."
Notice my great knowledge of Catholic things?
"If St. Patrick does come, I will absolutely convert."
So I gave Jesus the finger pistols, with a wink, and said "Do your magic." Cause that's how we roll.

It turned out that the actual people joining my grandparents for dinner were two priests. Which made me giggle. And get REALLY excited because I thought something fun was going to go down.
I got into work this morning and hopped right over to B4. "Have you been saved?!"
"No."
"Humph, well did they try to save you?"
"No."
"Then what the heck were you there for?"
"Just for dinner, because we haven't had dinner in awhile."
"But the priests!"
"Annie, our grandparents always invite priests to dinner. They feel it is their duty to feed to the priests."
"They didn't try to throw Holy Water on you?"
"No Annie."
Well WHAT is the fun in that? All night I was imagining all sorts of crazy holy things going on at the restaurant. And they just had a nice dinner of corned beef and cabbage, drank Guinness, and chit chatted.
No Holy Water thrown about. No one yelling "The Power Of Christ Compels You!" Not even a, "Listen B4, it's time for you to come back to church, OR ELSE!"
Gosh, real life is boring.
But let's remember: Drinking tequila with Jesus = World peace

Generation gap - And my Gram is pretty awesome - Also I'm probably never going to settle down

It is horrendously cold. I just looked up the temperature in Austin and it is 70 degrees. Also there will be thunderstorms there tomorrow. Which makes me incredibly jealous. Although it will be a balmy 40 degrees here tomorrow it is going to rain cold, terrible, deathly rain drops. And right now the wind is so bad and going right through my window and I just put another blanket on my bed, so now I have four. And flannel pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt, and my smartwool socks. And I am freezing.
Also I hate snow.
Also I hate slipping and the ice.
It is 70 degrees in Austin right now.

I spent the evening with my grandparents. They are the absolute best people in the world. Except that they are old, and my grandfather is going senile, and my poor grandmother can barely walk yet my grandfather is always barking at her to do everything for him. She just smiles and hobbles along. Then she sits down and falls asleep. It's amazing how good she is at that. Doesn't even teeter, just sits, closes her eyes and is out. I'm a bit jealous.
Anyway we had dinner together because it has been awhile since I've sat down and chatted with them, and Bear and I were the only ones home tonight and we were going to order take out anyway (from our own restaurant because this lady is on a spending freeze!) so I figured, hey, let's hang out with the grandparents.
First thing Bear said when we got into the car was, "Does it smell like chlorine in here?" And I'm just about to blurt out "Actually, it smells like old people" because it really did, it was a real old person smell. But then I realized that of course it's an old person smell, my grandparents are old. But they've never smelled old before so this was a new thing. They have officially become old.
At dinner they asked me what I was up to these days and what my plans were. I was dreading this question. Before we left I told Bear we should take bets on how Papa would react to me moving to Texas. So I decided not to beat around the bush. "I'm moving to Texas!"
"Oh dear God" says Papa
"You can't move to Texas! It's too far away!" says Gram
"Texas is really great, you're going to love it" says Papa. Whoa, was not expecting that.
"Yeah, I am really excited to move to Austin, it seems to really fit with who I am, there are a lot of people there who are a lot like me."
"Oooh no," says Gram, cracking up and shaking her head vigorously "No one is like you!"
"Where the hell is Austin? I've never heard of it." says Papa
"Um, it's the state capital." And I try to make the shape of Texas out of my hands to point out where exactly in Texas Austin is, but that's impossible, what was I thinking.
"So what? It's not a city. Houston is a city. Dallas. What the hell is Austin? What are you going to do there? Are you going to finish school?"

At this point I pinch Bear because in preparation for this dinner she has been informed that it is her duty to keep the conversation away from getting my bachelor's. The last conversation we had he literally yelled at me to make me finish. "Go back to Rhode Island and beg them to take you back!"
"No Papa, I left Rhode Island because I was completely unhappy there. It was a terrible experience for me and I never want to return there."
"Who the hell cares about happiness??"
You should know my grandfather never got his bachelor's degree. Also when I was in high school looking at colleges he kept trying to convince me not to go to college. "I can teach you anything you need to know!" Which could be true. Because he never went to college and went from a traveling shoe salesman to a millionaire. But get your opinions straight buster, should I go to college or should I not?
Every year this man has a new opinion. He went from freaking out on me for trying vegetarianism one summer to the next summer telling me that MEAT IS DEATH! I can't handle this.

So Bear tries to cut in and start a new conversation about the shrimp he is eating - weak attempt there - but he cuts her off. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-three"
"Uh huh, so this is your last little fling before you settle down and start a real life?"
"I don't know. Maybe not. There's still a lot of things I want to do."
"You know we had four kids by the time we were your age."
To which I try to reply that was crazy because they were married when they were 21, and that was just too quick to have babies (they had one set of twins) and even if I wanted to get married at this point my brothers would strongly object because I am way too young. Also I don't know where I want to settle down and have kids because it's definitely not here, and definitely not anywhere else I've lived. And I can't settle down and have kids until I find a man who wants to join me in this endeavor and I haven't found him yet and I know I won't find him here. Also we live longer now and I want to live in Texas but I also want to live in Kenya and I also want to live in London and I also want to travel all over the world and I wonder what it would be like to live in Asia... But while I am saying all of this he is going "Huh? What? What's that? Joanie, can you hear her?" Joanie's my gram. Papa pulls the "I'm deaf" card whenever he thinks we're talking crazy. Which is almost all the time with me.
Gram just giggles when I'm crazy. She thinks I'm awesome. "If I was your age I would totally go to Austin. Sounds rad." Gram also tries to be gangster. She once put one of those magnetic earrings in her nose and walked around with it for a whole day "I'm a cool Gram!" she kept saying.

Getting excited...

I have just booked a plane ticket to return to Copenhagen! I am beside myself with excitement, a little over a month from now I will be back in Europe (god I miss you) snuggling with my two favorite people in the world. Well, my favorite person in the world, and meeting Bitty Baby who I am sure will quickly become my second favorite person in the world. I'm talking about my nieces. And if you have been reading me, you know how important Clara is to me, and how Bitty Baby is about four weeks old. I've said "Hello" to her via facetime and skype, and I am positive she is beginning to recognize me and has already decided I'm her favorite Auntie ever.
I called B1 to let him know the tickets were purchased and he had to pick me up at the airport at 12:45 on Saturday the 9th. He told Clara and I could hear her yelling "yayy!" and asking if they could go to the airport right this instant to pick me up. Gosh that girl melts my heart!

The only drawback to my excitement is I need to return to the land of Facebook because I'm an idiot and didn't get any email addresses for my friends in Copenhagen and all of their numbers were on my Copenhagen phone which has been wiped clean for E's use. Silly. So I must return and request their contact information, and then I'm sure I'll get hooked reading up on everything I missed in the three weeks since I made my goodbyes and I'll never get off again. So I am putting off signing back on until I absolutely have to let them know when I am coming.

With that small drawback I am so completely absolutely ridiculously giddy about my future, which looks like this:
March: continue living the life of a nun, stop getting Thai food, go to the yoga studio I have already payed for rather than the one that I like, and pretend I'm a student so I can go to the climbing wall for free. Translation: SPENDING FREEZE!
April: Polishing off my halo and heading to church to be the best confirmation sponsor for my 16 year old sister (from here on referred to as Bear) there ever was, and a day later... COPENHAGEN! complete with baby snuggling, grabbing coffiee with Gerda (my favorite Latvian), spending two days with my favorite Parisian Nee, and of course going to Tivoli with Clara! Gaahh the excitement!
May: Celebrating Sie's graduation (you go girl!) and then moving to TEXAS!

Life = amazing

Parents!

My parents are the greatest. Maybe everyone thinks this. Maybe no one does. I certainly didn't in high school. I thought they were horrible people who must have had terrible childhoods so they didn't want me to ever have fun, ever. Looking back I laugh at the way I was in high school.
High school was actually amazing. I traveled by myself to France. I was able to skip school any time we had tickets to a Red Sox game, and skipped two weeks of school to make my first (of many) trips to Copenhagen. They let me make every major life decision for myself. Of course they would discuss decisions with me, but ultimately I had the final say. I find that I am most fortunate to have parents who let me make my own mistakes, to come up with my own life.

Many of my friends, and some people I've met along the way, have been extremely surprised that I have done what I have done "Your parents are ok with this?" I, in turn am flabbergasted when I learn that their parents chose their college, that there is no way they can go abroad because their parents want them to finish college in four years. My parents have never decided where I was going to live, go to school, or travel. They have never pressured me into finishing college - although they have voiced their opinions, and we've had long discussions.  They let me choose my path in life.

Although taken aback when I first told them I was deferring acceptance to the college I had fought long and hard to get into, they supported my decision to work a little. When I decided I was done working and wanted to volunteer abroad, they stayed up nights with me calling the U.S. Embassy in Kenya. When I decided to go to the college my boyfriend attended, they told me it wasn't a good idea, but it was my mistake to make. They taught me to deal with the consequences.

Because of that mistake, and a million other bad experiences that happened over the two years I was in college, I quit and headed to Europe. They supported me (not financially, just "we believe in you") throughout. They were happy I was able to experience Europe, happy I was close to my niece, but most of all happy I was happy. When things started to fall apart last September, they supported my decision to move home.

I am often in awe of the way my parents handle each of their children. With a brood of eight extremely different personalities, you would think they would go crazy. Instead they handle each "I've decided to move to Texas!" "I have this great idea for a new business, we're going to be rich!" "Hey, do you guys think I can move home for a bit, it will just be for a few months, maybe half a year, I swear!" "There's this boy in my class who is uber cute, but oh my gosh, Tori likes him too and she is so not playing fair." with grace and laughter.

I'm the one who has decided to move to Texas. My best friend and her family are staying at my inn this weekend and this topic has made me once again thank God for my parents. When I told them I was interested in looking into moving to Austin, my mom at first replied with an exasperated "Not again!" But after a talk, "If you feel like this is where you'll be happy, and you'll be able to get a good job and have a good place to live, then you should do it. But please do not fall in love and decide to stay in Texas forever!"
Mom has a terrible fear that she will never be near her grandchildren, since the first two are in Copenhagen and B2 lives on the opposite side of the country.
Anyway, I told Tine I was planning on moving to Texas, and thought maybe she could do her MIT program there. Her mother had a fit. There was no way her daughter was moving to Texas. Was I insane? Were my parents insane? Tine looked at me with an expression that said it was never going to happen. I sulked.
But no, I do not think I am insane. I have always wanted to live in Texas. As of April I will be unemployed, I am single, I am young, and Madic is moving there and asked me to go with him. This is my opportunity, why would I pass it up?

Summer, meet the family

My little brother, B5, is what I call a player. Confidence spills out of him. He is tall (well, one of the tallest in my family, but I guess that isn't really saying anything), fit, and has the most adorable dimples in the world (when he was little, I thought it was adorable, now I think they are ridiculous, mostly because I am one of the two children of eight who did not inherit dimples). And he knows it.
Every time I talk to him there is a new girl in his life, and of course she is the "most beautiful girl he has ever seen - and extremely smart too!" I am pretty sure I am going to hate whoever B5 ends up with because she is going to be perfect - beautiful and brilliant, two things I definitely am not. And yes, I hate people like that a little bit... because I'm jealous. Whatever.
B5 also has the habit of accidentally not breaking up with a girl. His story is, he never knew they were actually dating, that girls just read in to things too much. My mother holds that these girls are idiots, because here son could do no wrong. My theory: my brother is too much of a flirt, and I'm sure he makes every girl feel like they are everything to him. (This trait runs in the family. Except for me, I am the worst flirt, and I'm pretty sure I make all guys think I hate them... hm, could this be why I'm single? Whatever, this post isn't about me.) When B5 was home for Christmas I'm pretty sure he had 3 girls who were absolutely certain he was their boyfriend.
But thankfully he didn't bring anyone home this vacation. Since he started college he has brought a different girl home every break. He says it's because he goes to school in the Midwest, and we live on the East Coast, so he has to introduce them to our "culture." Because he's been bringing so many girls home, we started referring to them, not by name (because who can bother to learn their names?) but by season, or year.
Over the summer we met, well, Summer. This poor girl had no idea what she was getting herself into by coming. My brilliant brother decided it was a great idea to invite her to come while every other sibling in the family was home. This never happens, not even on major holidays, but on a random week over the summer, we were all there. And so was Summer.
Summer arrived just before dinner time. SIL and I were in the kitchen making burger patties to send out to B1, 2, and 3 (because who can flip a burger alone?), B4 (our live in bartender) was mixing drinks - B1 was on an Old Fashion kick, the little girls were at theater practice, E was probably sleeping, my niece was running between me and her daddy, and my parents were taking it all in.
Now I always try to be polite in the beginning. We welcomed her (Dad said, "welcome to our culture! if you need any help with culture shock, talk to E, she's a foreigner too!") and I did what I always do when people come in the house, offered a glass of wine.
"No thanks, I don't drink." SIL froze. Dad giggled a little and went outside to "help" with the grill, and I took a big gulp of my own wine, and gave her a smile, hoping it was an "that's ok, more for me!" smile, rather than a "I don't think we're going to get along" grimace.
SIL pulled herself together and played her part, offering food. "We're grilling up some burgers now, but we have some cheese and crackers here, how many burgers would you like?"
"Oh, no thanks, I'm a lacto-vegetarian." A few things went through my mind, first, you have got to be kidding me! and then damn you B5! seriously? you couldn't warn us?
That's when my mother left the room. My mother is the sweetest woman, but vegetarians really bug her. "With all the food allergies I have to accommodate, why on earth would you choose to be inconvenient?"
So poor Summer, she doesn't drink, she doesn't eat meat or cheese, she clearly does not fit into this family already - did B5 even tell her we own a beef cattle farm?
I went about trying to find food suitable for her... "Um, we have a lot of gluten free stuff that doesn't have any dairy, is that ok? Piece of bread? We're grilling corn on the cob!" And then I drank more wine.

Later that night we were all sitting in the living room (drinking wine), and B5 and summer joined us. Summer was wearing a skirt. She sat down across from me. Legs spread. I got a full view of her faded undies. Lovely.

By the end of her week long visit, in which she helped celebrate Clara's and my father's birthdays (awkward), we were all a bit sick of her. And you know what, so was B5.  


Disclaimer: I really do not have a problem with people who don't drink or eat meat... it's just, in our family, we do a lot of both... so we are very critical of potential significant others who don't. As long as you aren't planning on marrying into the family, you're golden!

Baby!

At 2:36 on Thursday morning I was awaken by a text from an unknown number, not only was it unknown, it only had five numbers. My groggy, barely seeing eyes stared at the number for awhile before opening the text. And then I stared some more, waiting for the words to unblur and form sentences I could understand. Finally I focused in, it was from my brother in Denmark.
"Good morning. E's water broke last night. We are on our way to the Hospital. The baby is on her way. Wanted you to be the first to know. Love, B1(brother number one)."
I wanted to jump out of bed and wake the whole house, the baby was on her way! But it was almost three in the morning and we all had to get up early in the morning, and the baby wasn't actually born yet. So I forced myself to fall back to sleep, despite being all giddy.
When I did fall asleep I dreamt of meeting my new niece over and over again. I first dreamt of meeting her via facetime for the iphone and ipod touch. Then I dreamt they came over to the states just a couple days later and we met in person. I kissed her and cuddled her and she was the most perfect little baby anyone has ever seen. When I awoke I was extremely upset it wasn't real.
Around 6:30 I heard the rest of my house stirring. Still tired and loving the warmth of my bed, I called out to my mother. She had no idea what the excitement was about. "Mom! Have you heard from B1?"
"No, why?... Did they have the baby?"
E wasn't due for a few weeks, but we had been expecting her to pop any day now. She was enormous. But lucky her, just her belly was enormous. It looked like she was hiding a basketball because her face didn't chub up, her arms and legs and even her butt were all still as skinny and as shapely as always. I am pretty sure I will hate her for it when I get pregnant because I am positive every little bit of my body will inflate. Her ankles didn't even swell!
But anyway, we knew the baby was coming any day, so me being awake and asking about my brother at 6:30 in the morning set my mom into excitement as well.
"I don't know if they have had the baby yet, they just said they were on the way to the hospital, they didn't call you?"
"No, but you know what, I woke up around quarter to four and just felt funny so I said a prayer for E because I had a feeling she was having the baby."
My mom is like that, always getting these weird feelings and sending prayers out, hoping they will land on the child that most needs it. It happened when I rolled my car when I was 17. She had a terrible feeling minutes after I left the house on the way to school. She didn't know what was wrong, so she prayed for all of her children. Every part of the minivan was crushed except for right above my head.
My mother skipped downstairs in search of the phone,  but there was no answer on my brother's end. "They are probably a little busy, you know, having the baby." My mom said.
An hour later they called, she was about an hour old and absolutely perfect. We planned to skype when they got settled back at home with my other niece.
It was a perfect little sight, my little goddaughter, greeting her new baby sister, just pulled at my heart strings making me wonder why on earth I ever left them. When my goddaughter was born I was there a month later, ready to snuggle and kiss to my hearts content. But now I have to wait until late April. Honestly I have to say, thank the lord for skype!! I do not know what I would do without it. I call them every morning if possible just to see the little one for a moment. Yesterday I watched her get her diaper changed, ridiculous, I know, but it was the most adorable thing, especially with my goddaughter looking on, offering her help and begging to hold her.

Not long after I first saw the baby I texted SIL, it was time for her to hurry up and have a baby, I need a niece or nephew on this side of the ocean!

Family

Agh, what a day. Still recovering from a stomach bug, and then eating freaking doritos yesterday... but because I have missed so much work the last two days I went in early to catch up.
Although at work I realized Average Girl was having a party over at her blog, so I couldn't help but stop by, have a few glasses of "wine" and then read about ten other blogs. So, maybe I didn't get that much done...

There's a family reunion at our hotel right now. They are all loud, drunk, and crazy. Children run from play room to dining room, and adults continually come up to me asking for a drink (even though I have nothing to do with the bar). Today was the first day, so it was extra insanity with everyone hugging, yelling hellos, and exclaiming how much Junior has grown, or asking when the baby is due.
I sat there in awe. Not too long ago that was how my mother's family got together every Thanksgiving, and I missed the excitement and love, and the tiny bit of stressful insanity that went along with family reunions. Since my brothers have married and the rest of us have grown and scattered, we haven't gotten together with my mom's family as much. I miss it.
But I am looking forward to the time when my family gets together for a reunion. When my brothers and their kids all return to my parents house and it's an insane racket of children running through the rooms, playing video games, tag, and making the adults crazy. My sisters-in-law will be tossing back glasses of wine, the boys drinking the drink of the moment - right now it's Old Fashions, and playing a vicious game of Apples to Apples.
I can just feel the excitement, the tinge of a buzz, hear the laughter, the yells, Clara running up to pull on my sleeve, asking why Grampy is sneaking downstairs.
Gosh, it has been far too long since we all got together.
My mom's family lives in two places. One of her brothers and one of her sisters live in our town. My grandparents have a house here, and a house in MA. The rest of my mom's siblings live in the same town in MA. It's where they grew up, and it's where they will stay. So everyone will remain close.
My family? One brother in Denmark, one in Seattle, one in Boston, one in Wisconsin. The rest here... but the girls are little, who knows where they will end up. Who knows where I will end up?
We are scattered all over, it takes a big event, like a wedding, to get us all in one place at the same time. And who knows when that will happen?

Hm, I didn't think this would be a depressing post... woops.

Saturday

Saturdays are spectacular. Even though I never get Friday or Saturdays off I am determined to make Saturdays feel like a weekend. Since my shift does not begin until 2:30 p.m. I purposely sleep in on Saturdays. Most days I like to get up, run, shower, make phone calls (usually to my school to deal with awful things like financial aid), maybe prepare dinner for the crock pot, and maybe run some errands. But Saturdays I will do no such thing.
I get one day off a week, Sundays. On Sundays I get up early to shower, eat breakfast, and head to church. After church is a lot of chatting, maybe a trip to the bagel place, which lasts almost two hours (a post on that to come) and when I finally get home there is laundry to do, and then my parents want to talk business all night. Not much of a day off in my opinion.
So Saturdays I sleep late (9:30 usually) head downstairs in my p.j.'s, make myself a cup of coffee, snuggle up on the couch near the fire with my iphone and call my niece in Copenhagen. After that chat, which always leaves me laughing (even if my brother points out the planet of a pimple on my forehead... there are pros and cons to this facetime thing) I break out my sudoku, and have breakfast (which, if I'm lucky, is made by my mother) and another cup of coffee.
This morning was just like that. I tackled a few sudoku problems, chatted with my mom and sisters, and then we were inspired to watch Funny Girl. I didn't get off the couch until one o'clock. It was perfection. After that kind of morning, I almost don't mind working on a Saturday night.