102 years later.

today my dad turns 102.  he was born in 1916, and here's a google link to what i found out about that.  i have the upmost respect and love for this man.  and when i wonder about "god" i can say that what i see in him is a light that i will equate with a god.

a list is not adequate, but it's all i have.

1.  he had me when he was as old as i am now.  he'd already had nine children.  i will allow myself to imagine that only for a short time because it sometimes brings me to tears.  i am an "older parent" and our youngest is nine.  (that almost brings me to tears.)  parenting is hard and having an infant right now, for me, would be really hard.  i admire the heck out of him for parenting me like he did.

2.  there are so many great stories when you have been on this earth 102 years.  here's one:  my husband and i had recently moved close to my parents and we went over to their house.  hubby who is an expensive bike enthusiast had a really expensive bike.  because we were living in an apartment without a garage, hubby asked dad to keep his bike in dad's garage.  dad hung it up and hubby, looking at the hook dad had hung it on, asked dad, "jesse, is that hook gonna hold my bike?"  and dad said, "well, if it doesn't, your bike will fall."  classic dad.  pragmatic.  funny.

3.  dad walked almost every single day of his retired life.  for exercise.  and he made a habit of collecting cans (which he traded in for "beer money") and picking up trash while walking.  i could honestly go on and on about this.  but i think the most incredible part about this to me now is that he stopped and picked up trash.  all of it.  because he did not like litter.  i used to be mildly embarrassed by this as a teen.  but now, i cannot stand litter.  i try to pick it up in my neighborhood every morning.  i hope if dad knew this, he would be proud of me.

4.  dad had an amazing green thumb.  he could grow anything.  my mom, when she was alive, used to try to get my dad to like use mulch or water more and dad would just say, "why?  it's growing isn't it?"  i use mulch and water and everything i plant dies.  i did not inherit his green thumb.

5.  my early memories of my dad are of him coloring with me.  and sitting by his feet while he read the newspaper every night.  another memory is that he weekly (?) would bring a vending machine snack home for me and my sister.  this was a rare treat for us.  my mom had these silver measuring cups and my sister would carefully divide the candy evenly into two cups.

6.  words i would use to describe my dad are:  humble, gentle, patient, kind, simple, wise, loving, content, and generous.

7.  my dad crossed the border when he was nine.  there are so many more details about this that i have learned and forgotten.  i hope to see my last living aunt on my dad's side this summer and refresh the details of this because i would like to be able to repeat this story accurately.  some details about dad i do know are that my dad knew no english when he crossed the border, he worked in the fields picking fruit, he served in WWII, he was injured in the Battle of the Bulge, he earned a purple heart, and he earned his high school diploma when I was about 12.

there was a period of time a few years ago when i helped to provide care-taking for my dad.  he still had most of his memory and there were days i would go to his house frazzled and stressed out for one reason or another.  being with him always calmed me down.  he has a way of just making you feel peaceful and purposeful.  for me, seeing dad daily like that was a great time in my life.

when i think about the amazing legacy my dad has, it's pretty cool.  this morning on my run i thought of all my siblings and their kids.  and their kids.  i thought about all the states we live in, the professions we have, the lives we've touched.  without dad, none of that would have been possible.   i thought about all the amazing things i've learned from my dad - way too many for one blog post or even one book.   it's pretty sappy, but it made me feel pretty good at a time when i've been feeling pretty crappy.  even when he doesn't know it and he's not physically with me, he still has the ability to cheer me up.

my dad is in an amazing memory care home now where they take incredible care of him.   his memory fades in and out.  on good days he knows me.  on not so good days i'd like to think he knows i love him.

today we will celebrate him and the great life he's had and i hope that he knows how special he is.

It's hard to grow up. But, I guess not as hard as having a raccoon dog in your backyard rather than just a plain raccoon?

Hello.  Remember me?  Ms. Day In The Life?

Normally I operate this blog and write about my mildly funny and mostly dysfunctional life.

Lately I've just been feeling nostalgic as summer slips quickly through my fingers.

So, this is going to be a post about nothin'.  (And thank you, auto correct, but I meant to say nothin.')

1.  I have not been busy posting, but I have been busy reading all of my favorite blogs.  I read this one today and it made me cry like a big 'ole baby.  It's almost as if the writer had been hanging out in my house this summer (in a totally non-creepy way).  And really I rarely cry so either I am pre-menopostal, or it's a really good post (I suspect the latter).

2.  This awesome lady who used to live in my neighborhood before she up and moved across the globe, has been back in our neighborhood for the whole month of July.  I like my blog, but not as much as I like having coffee, and dishing it up with her.  She's like the mac-n-cheese of friends (and I hope when she reads this she will know what a huge compliment that is) and it's been splendid having her here.

3.  Being with my four kids all summer day and night has..............not been without its challenges.  The fighting, teasing, arguing, and screaming has taken on new heights and most of the time I feel like this: 

Sometimes I'm the ref.  Sometimes I'm the boxer.

4.  My very good friend, and frequent blog visitor has moved to a different neighborhood.  Insert any one of a gazillion sad emoticons or possibly a cat crying because her best cat friend has moved.....and the cat is roller skating carrying a birthday cake........but, I digress. 

I knew this move was coming for a long time, but I'm not good at change (let's face it, I'm still trying to get rid of my 80's haircut and make-up).  The reality of her being gone faster than George and Weezie Jefferson (albeit just about 15 miles away, and I do own a car, and there is a Starbucks on the way - four or five in fact) is starting to sink in.  It does help tremendously that so far, like Joe Walsh, fame and fortune haven't changed her.  And she has already graciously let us crash her obnoxiously fabulous home and beautiful pool.  Mrs. JustAHausWeyef, this one is for you:

5.  Lastly, there is no time like summer in Texas to make you second guess not investing in cable television.  There.  is.  nothing.  on.

So, night before last we sat down as a family and watched Nova on PBS.  Well, I am *kinda* lying.  We sat down to watch America's Got "Some" Talent as a family, but this family friendly show had some lewd sex jokes on it, so we flipped channels and that's how we got to Nova on PBS.

And, I found out about raccoon dogs.

Not familiar with them either?  Well, don't worry.  Here's a photo for you:

photo credit:  www.factzoo.com.  If you just yelped, "CHEESUS!" and backed away from the screen, don't worry you are not alone.  Oh, and it's mildly disturbing that it kinda looks like they put this rac-dog on a fluffy bed to take this photo??? 

 

I might be feeling like time is spinning out of control what with losing my baby boy and one of my bestest friends, but at least I don't have raccoon dogs digging up my garbage?! 

So, thanks, PBS!  With quality programming like you, I can take the heat and I don't even miss cable!

Stop being happy and start being skinny!

Occasionally something comes out of my mouth and I gasp because it is my mother.  And she is dead.  Now, you know I loved/love my mother dearly but there are some wacky things that used to come out of her mouth that quite frankly I have never understood.  Here are just a few:

1.  A stitch in time saves nine.  But, I can't sew.
2.  Idle hands are the devil's work.  But, what if your hands are busy stealing?
3.  Cleanliness is next to Godliness.  I'm sorry.  I just don't understand that.
4.  The early bird gets the worm.  But, we all know if you are a worm, sleep late.  (I *might* be a worm.)
5.  Curiosity killed the cat.  That's just wrong.  And besides, cats have nine lives and idle hands.
6.  (And this gem when she would find out that someone was mad at someone else.)  Well, now so-and-so has another job.  Getting unmad.  I actually semi-understand and like that one, but have updated it to a gem that one of my amazing blog readers taught me:  You can get unmad in the same pants you got mad in.
7.  Measure twice.  Cut once.  What do you do if you suck at measuring and cutting?
8.  I am the mother.  That's why.  Now, this is a good one that although I do not understand I use on a regular basis.
9.  Frowning takes more muscles than smiling.  Excuse me.  What the WHAT?


A few days ago, Girl 1 threw a mother-loving fit and then was pouting for a good four hours. 

Suddenly out of NO where (except possibly the after world) this came out of my mouth, "Y'know, frowning takes more muscles than smiling."

She silently looked at me with a look that said, "What in the &*%$ are you talking about?" 

And she actually did that while she was frowning.

And then I looked at myself (without an actual mirror, I mean I just examined my soul) and thought:

What in the &*%$ am I talking about???

FROWNING TAKES MORE MUSCLES THAN SMILING??? 

And I've known this fact since I was a CHILD???

Seriously?

I have been on a mission this summer to "count calories." (And I mean this in the loosest sense possible, like for example: A fruit smoothie probably has less calories than bacon, hash browns and scrambled eggs.)  Along with the counting calorie mission, I've been diligently trying to use all my muscles on a regular basis because I was doing research on calorie burning and some professional on the internets said that using the same muscles over and over will not burn as many calories as changing up your routine.  So, I have been a working out/calorie counting slave.

And here I had haphazardly stumbled on a diet gold mine. 

Why am I trying to use different muscles everyday working out?  I just need to be less happy and frown more.  And I could be using more muscles. 

I think my ma *might* be trying to communicate with me from the other side to let me know:  Exercise is for the birds!  Not smiling is the key!

Amen!

I am ready to start my new program!  Sign me up!

Leonardo DiCaprio: I'm still pissed. Netflix: You are not far behind.

So, you might know we got Netflix shortly after Santa brought us the Wii.  Now, I realize the rest of the living world has probably had Netflix for about 20 years, but it's new to us.  I am still a little amazed that I can flick on the TV (well, not really me, but the 10 year old boy because I have yet to learn how to use the Wii or Netflix on my own) and find an array of movies right there that I might want to see.  (Let me just say now that, among other things, Netflix furthers my attempts to never have to dress or bathe.) 

You might be thinking to yourself, "This is a good thing, right?  How can it go south?"  Well, that's what I am here to tell you.  Here, my friends, is how Netflix can go wrong.

As a preface to this post I should probably tell you that since I was born I have been notoriously bad at picking movies.  I just suck.  I could blame my horrible memory, but that's not really fair.  I think it's just in my blood.  Often times I will hear a review of a movie that sounds just fabulous and 1.  I really screw up the name of the movie and instead rent it's B counterpart, or 2.  I actually rent the correct movie only to find the person who reviewed it was apparently on hallucinogenic drugs that caused him or her to think it was a great movie.  Hubby knows this about me and tolerates it (but not without making comments about it occasionally when he's been forced to watch some movie worse than the sit-com Whitney).

Fast forward to us getting Netflix.  The first movie I watched was The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.  I am not being paid to say this, but I should be.  That was an awesome movie.  Fabulous acting, intriguing plot, and suspenseful to the end.  Despite that, my faith in my movie picking ability was restored with one movie!  I know, too good to be true. 

Then my second pick was Creepshow 2 circa 1980s based on the book by Stephen King.  Now, I love Steven King and I may have been confusing Creepshow 2 with the original Creepshow (which I think was actually a pretty good movie).  Plus, my love for Stephen King may have influenced my pick.  I have read quite a few of his books and of the movies adaptations I remember I loved Misery, Christine, Shining, The Green Mile.  Well, let me just say that Creepshow 2 is quite possibly The Worst Movie Ever Made Based on a Stephen King Book.  In my mind (and I am pretty sure hubby's) I was demoted back to Worst Movie Picker Ever.




It looks like it could be good, right?  Apparently looks can be deceiving.

THEN I picked Shutter Island.  I remembered that when that movie came out in 2010 (because I am still watching Must Sees from the 1900's) I really wanted to see it.  Well, this is how bad it is.  I fell asleep more than twice, woke up, continued watching and still was able to understand the plot.  Not only is it a horrible movie, it is like a train wreck.  You so want to look away, but something compels you to keep watching.  When the ending credits rolled I was shocked and bitter to learn Martin Scorcese is the director?!  In a nutshell:  plot that's been used a million times, bad acting, lighting that's tough for people over *30*, and scary people on par with Creepshow.  So, let me just say - had it been circa 1980 it could have beat Creepshow 2 for the Bad Movie Oscar.

The thing that angers me the most is that I should have known better.  I really am not a DiCaprio fan.  In fact, I'm kind of an un-fan.  I'm still kinda angry about Titanic.  Not really the movie itself, but how much I had to hear about it after the movie.  Y'know?  I could be one of about 20 people that hated Titanic.  You already know how it ends and that takes away half the fun.  And then there was Inception.  I fell sound asleep after taking a bathroom break and coming back to be lost as hell.  Revolutionary Road.  Didn't even see it, but the trailers made me gag.  I thought I had remembered all of the reasons why I do not care for DiCaprio and then hubby reminded me of What's Eating Gilbert Grape.  Hubby pointed out that that was a truly great movie.  I reminded hubby that it was because Leon had Johnny Depp to pull him through.  

I wasted two hours and eighteen minutes of my life that I cannot get back.  I finally went to bed after midnight and was grumpy and groggy all the next day.  Bottom line:  I'm still pissed.  It's going to take me a while to get over this one.  My movie recommendation (thank me later) - if you have two hours and eighteen minutes of free time this weekend do not watch DiCaprio and be cautious with Netflix.  Happy weekend and may all your movie picks be winners!

A Post Until the Post I Want to Write

I have a long post to write soon about our staycation - which was wonderful in every way. But, that is going to take some organization on my part which is nowhere to be found in these dog days of summer. So...in the meantime I am sharing this. A friend posted the template for this activity on FB and I really like my result. In a nutshell - You don't know where you are going until you know where you come from. Thanks for the read!

Where I Am From

I am from a hot comal, from Breck shampoo and Noxema. I am from the white and green house with a huge basement that smells like roasting chiles. I am from the tall corn plant, the red rose in spring, and the apple tree with a tree house in it, the weeping willow tree on the corner, the lillies of the valley, and the smell of fresh cut grass. I am from a huge family that gathered every Christmas, with their hugs and kisses, and "Roman" noses, Aunt Juanita, Grandma Sofie, and Uncle Larry. I am from the unconditional love and teasing unmercifullly. From "ai que muchacha" and "se te va a sacar la lengua." I am from la Virgen de Guadalupe and Juan Diego. I am from CCD, CYO, and see you every Sunday at church. I'm from Midland, Michigan and a long line of Sanchez's and Silva's, a pile of hot tortillas and a bowl of freshly cooked beans. From the the beach in Puerto Vallarta drinking coconut juice straight from a coconut with my wonderful ma and dad, the Mexican sun beating down on us and the smiles on our faces brighter than the day itself, mom's sitting right on the sand and she looks so happy in my picture. I am from the box of really old snapshots that sits on a dusty shelf on my bookcase upstairs in my small, house. I am from the fancy, wooden box on my dresser that contains four fragile elephants from my grandma Sofie's collection. Tiny items worth no monetary value, but nonetheless worth the world to me and waiting to be passed down to my children so that they will know where I am from.