Proud

Today is a post where I brag about my brother. Because I love him and because I want to. And because one time I slapped him in the face because he followed me all the way from the far away barn on our farm to our house while yelling and throwing rocks. I still feel bad. I don't think he gives a shit, hell he might not even remember. That? Is love. Also, an example of how I don't let things go. One time he pulled down my pants in front of the gas station. So there.

After high school my precious Morgie Porgie went to California to attend MUD - Make-up Designory. When he left I cried like he was never coming back...even though he was coming back in a few weeks for Thanksgiving. Then he went back after Thanksgiving...I may have cried even more. Then he was gone for awhile...then he was home for summer or something...and then he went back...and then I finally had to upgrade to a Blackberry to increase my texting speed. I don't even know how people can text without a full keyboard. So inconvenient.

Then he got all done with make up school and came back home to get his business degree. Isn't he amazing? I know.

THEN he worked at a local furniture chain because OHMYGOD do you know how hard it is to get a job at the MAC counter at Nordstrom?

So, guess what? HE GOT THE JOB FINALLY! YAY! Hero of the day!

And guess what else he did in between all of that? Met someone else that is amazing, Angelo!

And guess what happened to Angelo this week also? He became manager of the salon that he works at.

What an amazing week for them and an amazing life coming up! So, that's what this is about. Saying that I'm so proud and happy to be a part of their lives and couldn't imagine a life without them.

There he is. Cute.

 There he is with my favorite girl.

There he is with my favorite boy.

 And there is Morgan and Angelo.

Even they can't believe the magnitude of the awesomeness contained here in this photo.

Free Dinner

We are going out for a family dinner to celebrate Morgan's impending graduation...I think this is his third graduation. He's just trying to show me up.

Momma: We should make reservactions for 6:30, you think?

Me: Yes. You're paying for this right?

Momma: No....Yes.

Me: Do you know that I've never eaten lobster?

Momma: Well don't start now.

La Grande Casita

About a month...maybe two, ago, momma and Jack had the fantastic idea of building a playhouse for the grandkids. I was instantly excited, they have a beautiful yard, very rainforest-ey...yep, that's a word. They got started on it quicker than I anticipated, then it rained for 40 days so that delayed things a bit, what with the huge Ark that landed in the front yard.

Then, just like that, it was done. Jack did some amazing work on the construction. What started out as a one room playhouse ended up being a tiny cabin complete with bunk beds, a reading chair, windows, a heater and a heap of personality. Momma decorated and it's like something straight out of a storybook. We can't get enough of it. I would love to take you on a photographic tour, I tried to capture everything but looking back at the pictures I just feel like they don't do it justice.

This little home is magic. From the second you walk in you feel like you've escaped something and can finally breathe. The beds are outfitted in fine linens and the comfiest quilts. Every nook has a little piece of personality. The windows only reveal the wilderness so you feel even further from reality. A storage ottoman houses crayons, markers, and paper dolls. There is electricity and the light that shines down comes from an antique fixture that seems like it was made just for this spot. The ceiling is tall giving the small house a grand feel. When you leave the magic of "the cabin", as Madison calls it, you are already trying to scheme and plan the next rendezvous.

Thank you to Momma and Jack for blessing our family and all the grandkids with a little place that they can call their own and truly be children.

Enjoy.

Won't you come in?

 We're warm.

 Modern bird nest.

 Shed a little light.

 

 View from inside towards the door.

A whole lot of enjoyment is contained in this storage ottoman.

 There's not much better than a brand new box of crayons.

 Magnificent chair.

 It's all in the detail.

 Something in every corner.

 Magic lies within this door.

 I love the bottom bunk.

 Madison calls dibs on the top.

 It's just calling for me to sit and read an entire book.

 Homemade curtains by momma.

 We've each started to make beaded garlands to decorate with.

 This is momma's, there is no end to her creativity.

I would live right here if I could.

What's In A Name? Well, It Depends On How Many You Have.

I have three names, first - middle - last. I understand that a lot of people have more than that and that is great. The basic rule of thumb is, you only go by the one name. Unless you have some nickname that some people call you but then others don't so then when you meet people half of your friends introduce you as Socko and the other half introduce you as Wayne and noone knows what your name is or who you are and why are you even here, where's Socko? Where's Wayne!? What have you done with them?! Poor Wayne and Socko, they were fun, too bad they're gone forever... Then you're all, I'm right here! And they're all, you're nuts man.

Or you could be like my mom and go by every single name depending on what day it is and what hour. Counting her maiden name she has 5 names. Recently she went to the pharmacy to pick up a presciption and was told my the clerk that her insurance company responded to the claim by saying "This person is not insured." Which is a fantastic thing to hear when you are standing in line to purchase medication.

She called her insurance company and here is a little tidbit of the conversation. A conversation that momma thought was totally normal and accused the other party of being insane until I explained..."They are insane? Are you sure? Because you have 17 names and it can be confusing..."

Momma: Hello. I tried to get a presciption filled and they told me that I was uninsured...that is incorrect.

Guy: Yes. I see here that the pharmacy tried to fill a prescption for a Jessi R. Wade...

Momma: Yes.

Guy: Who is that?

Momma: Me.

Guy: It says here you are Robin J. Wade...sooo.

Momma: Yes. I showed her my insurance card AND my drivers license. My first name is Jessi but I don't use that name.

Guy: So, it's not on your birth certificate anymore?

Momma: No, it's still there. Actually. My first name is Miss, but I go by Robin, but my first name is Jessi.

Guy: So....

Right? Confusing.

This also from the mother who raised us all to call my brother by his middle name and now that he's older he's grown weary of correcting anyone that calls him by his actual first name so now he goes by both names, depending on where he is and how old he was when he met the person.

People. I am the normal one.

Isn't that scary?

It's a Family Tradition

Most families have traditions. We have quite a few, like we always open one present on Christmas Eve, momma still wraps presents to me and Morgan from Santa Claus, we decorate the tree together every year, on Thanksgiving we get to pick a dessert, my mom's cornbread dressing is a tradition in itself. We also have another family tradition of sorts, we like to scare the shit out of eachother.

I'm not sure when it started, I remember it a lot when I was a teenager but it may have even started when I was much younger. Typically it's the hide behind the door type of scare. My mammaw (she is in her eighties now) would hide behind a door or crouch down behind a chair for as long as she had to, probably didn't help her arthritis but she didn't care. Momma likes to wait outside of your bedroom door or bathroom door and as you open it she screams and bangs on it really loud, my brother likes this method as well. Madison likes to hide around corners or in closets, yes, the 6-year old partakes in the tradition. I have felt a mother's guilt for literally scaring the piss out of her on occasion. Just the one time, calm down. Joe will try and scare me on occasion, he typically uses the hide behind the door method. Other times he takes it to a whole new level and sneaks into the house and then when I hear stuff in the house I call him to see if he's the one making the noise and he tells me that no, he isn't home yet. This method is unacceptable. This method will eventually get 911 called on it.

My reaction to being scared is always a great topic of conversation. The stance I usally take is hands up by head, scream, put one knee into my stomach and crouch into a ball. FYI: This is ineffective in the event of a real attack. I will most certainly be killed if there is ever an actual "bad-guy" hiding in my bathroom.

My method of "scaring" is equally ineffective. I'll paint a picture for you with a recent situation. At momma's house, I see her walk out to the garage so I take my chance and hide behind a corner. While standing there with my hands up in attack position (why? I don't know) I of course start picturing her scared reaction and that makes me giggle a little inside. Well, that little inside giggle eventually erupts into pure hysteria and by the time she makes it back from the garage I am halfway to an unrecognizable heap on the floor. She walks by and the look on her face is pure confusion, and disappointment. I mean, here I am, heir to the throne and I can't even mutter out a "gotcha!"? Useless.

I also had the same situation with Morgan recently. I was already on the floor this time because I was going to grab his ankles as he walked by, bad move. By the time he walked by I was laughing hysterically and pawing at his legs. His reaction was similar to what it would be like to walk past a pile of dog shit, step to the side slowly and look down in disgust.