February 12th, 2009 | 10 Comments »

Can you tell I’ve been in a blog blah slump-y thing lately? Yeah. I have been home almost all day, every day, working. Tired. Uninspired. I still have stories to tell, but I can’t seem to string them together.

It’s been bad enough that during readings, I have been searching and failing to find the correct word. Trying to say “specific” sounds like “sup sup blubblubdeblub specific”. Luckily, the client finds it amusing.

I’ve been making it a point to get more sleep and drink more water. It gives me stamina. Who thought that they would need stamina to talk on the phone all day? I’ve made a commitment to work more hours each week in order to be able to take time off to visit with the clan while the Papa is still alive. He isn’t feeling so good. The only time he gets out now is to take a joyride in the ambulance to the hospital.

My liddle sister, Red, is the unifying force behind the family gathering. She’s the one who keeps us in the loop about what’s going on, and she’s the one who, for some strange reason, has great memories of her much older siblings.

(When I say much older, I mean that she is a week younger than my oldest son, Dances with Shrapnel. He used to enjoy calling her Aunt Red.)

Today, I am grateful for liddle sister, and also, for Schmutzie, who not only started Grace In Small Things, but also wrote a post about writing even when you think your writing sucks.

February 9th, 2009 | 14 Comments »

I have a strange family tree, which would explain the strange fruit (me) that it bears.

One oddity is my sister in law twice removed.

Above? First husband and his sister. He was missing his girlfriend, she’s just an all-round pill.

Her brother was my first husband. We divorced.

Once removed.

My brother, Mr. Trick, was her second husband. They divorced.

Twice removed.

That’s how I like her best.

Twice removed.

I prefer the first husband to her.

And that’s my bitchy story for today.

Posted in What's this?
February 5th, 2009 | 16 Comments »

Have you ever noticed how little kids often have a language of their own, and can communicate with one another?

My brother, Mr. Trick, did not talk early. According to my mother, he really had no need to. Mom said I was talking at 11 months, and I’ve never really shut up since.

She used to call upon the secret language of children to have me tell her what Mr. Trick wanted. She often told this tiny story, complete with sound effects which I cannot duplicate here, and comical facial expressions, again, cannot duplicate.

Mom: Why’s he crying, witchypoo?

witchypoo: Ba didddle blup do blug?

Mr. Trick: Gah googah gee bah bah.

witchypoo: He’s got a pain in his belly. He has to poop.

It’s official now. I’m a poop interpreter.

February 3rd, 2009 | 18 Comments »

The past few days, I’ve been practically addicted to Facebook. I can’t wait to see what is coming down the pike next on the live feed. Strangely enough, I only just discovered the live feed because I had largely ignored Facebook for the most part. Just busy working, but relying mostly on Twitter to get family updates, like which of the old folks was joyriding to the hospital in the ambulance. Thanks, liddle sis, for your updates, by the way.
That all changed with a call from my brother, Dizzee. Strangely enough, I had just logged onto Facebook and saw he had reactivated his account, and made a proclamation that his status was clearly married. I almost made a comment on that to the effect that his kids would be so pleased that he could no longer call them little bastards, because I’m all insanely witty and fabulous like that.
Before I could make that comment, he called and there was something so momentous in his energy he could barely speak.
He told me that he had been contacted by a daughter he had fathered some thirty-odd years ago, and I was all, I sure hope your wife knew about this because it might be a surprise she wouldn’t take to. And he croaked “yeah” and I was all good boy, because while he was practically speechless, I’m all about the speechiness, even if I do talk to strangers on the phone all day. In fact, my throat is sore, and I still can’t shut up.
So we’re all excited because hey, he has a daughter, and his kids have another sister, and I have another niece, and I’m searching her profile and holy shit, she looks so much like me, I’m frigging mesmerized. I’m thinking if my brother isn’t really her father, then I must be her mother, and wouldn’t I have remembered that? Of course I would, I’m just all excited and jabbery and run on sentence-y, and can’t even write in my own voice.
So in between shifts, I’m chatting with her, and telling her that there should be some stories and old pictures and things on my blog because I can’t label and organize my images well enough to email them to her.
I ask her what she wants her blog name to be because I usually offer people I write about that choice. After asking if I can write about them, of course, because who needs their family all grumbly because of a blog?
She leaves it up to me to come up with her blog name, and I ran a few through my tiny little brain like Surprise and The Daughter I Never Had and all I could come up with is Mini Me. I have a feeling she is tall, so maybe not so mini, but I don’t know much about her yet, except of course she is gorgeous. Smirk.
I’m open for suggestions.
All of this blathering is leading up to what I am grateful for and wanted to share. My niece has found her family, and her family has found her.
Thank you, universe. Oh, and thanks to Facebook, too.
UPDATE: I have consulted with my niece and we have agreed her blog name should be Hidden Treasure.