possibly my most favorite picture ever...for obvious reasons, not the least of which is that the little goober was crawling toward me with a picture-perfect grin.  

future hall of famer? could be, but not for the yanks, no way. LET'S GO, RED SOX!! 

my nephew, the buddah of laughter 

littlest mr. graves looks so pleased with himself...i think someone should check his diaper. 

back in the saddle

geeze louise. it's hard to believe this summer really happened. it's like i stepped out of camp and right back into life before may 27th. it's not like that, that's exactly what happened. and i'm mostly ok with that, for now. sort of.

i still have no idea what i want to be, or do, etc. but i have started circulating my resume around, and am scouring craigslist and the statesman frantically searching for something i might be qualified to do that might also accidentally pay some bills. cross your fingers and light those candles. i need all the help i can get, at this point. top that off with getting an ear infection for the first time in about 20 years, and you can imagine that this week has been a little on the frustrating side of life. but i will live.

it's amazing to think that ten years ago, i was starting my senior year in high school. all that is behind me was before me, and i had not the slightest clue about anything. i remember feeling like 18 was so old and so worldly. staring down the proverbial barrel of 28, i look at 18 year olds and envy them a little of their innocence and wonderment, and false sense of maturity. honey, what i didn't know then could have filled a book. still could, if the truth be told. but it's so funny to me that it didn't feel that way at all. maybe i've been watching too many felicity re-runs to be making any sense at all.

i have got to stop watching that show--it's of the devil, i swear. it's just so charming, so mind-numbing, and it comes on back to back every afternoon. damn you, time warner cable and the we network, damn you straight to hell and back. just don't change up your programming schedule until we get to the end of season 4, ok?

i guess what really bothers me about all this angst concerning jobs and living spaces and 401k's and relationships, etc. is that i keep wondering when people are going to stop being patient with me about all of it. when do i finally get the big talk about fishing or cutting bait? i know i've given it to myself about 10 thousand times, but i still come up with a new plan every six months, but nothing seems to stick. maybe that means that i really am one of those vagabond people who are just going to drift from random thing to random thing, and die without ever having a real career or doing something solid for 20 years, and getting a nice watch and a plaque with my name on it. maybe it means that i haven't looked in the right corner yet, that i'm still searching out the thing i'm supposed to do. i wish i could get paid to write this thing, because i'd sure as hell update it alot more than i do, and i would use spellcheck much more faithfully. anyway, it's past my bedtime, and since baby a has got to be on the bus at 6:50am tomorrow morning, and i'm finally settling into reading "on the road" for about the 40-eleventh time, and am determined to finish it, by hook or by crook, i'll shut this rambler down.

if you have the chance, i highly suggest picking up the new issue of rolling stone magazine. bob dylan is on the cover, and that should be enough inducement for anyone.

mil besos--rmg

post card from the edge, vol. 7, or how i came home

"We die to each other daily.
What we know of other people
Is only our memory of the moments
During which we knew them.
And they have changed since then.
To pretend that they and we are the same
Is a useful and convenient social convention
Which must sometimes broken.
We must also remember
That at every meeting we are meeting a stranger." --ts eliot

i am coming home. in 26 hours, i will be finished with this job. it has been the hardest job of my life. and in the final analysis, i think i am most proud of this job. i can honestly say that i have nothing left to give of myself--not any more emotion, or thought, or effort. i am empty. and it feels good to know that. there has been room made for something else to fill me up. i have no idea what that something is, but i think for the first time in a long time, and maybe ever, i am ready to move onto something new. this experience closes a chapter in my life that has been a long time coming. blessed be.

i feel like i've sloughed off something of the old me, and i can't put my finger on it. i feel like i'm more confindent and more dependent and more vulnerable and stronger and more gentle than i have been in years. i feel like this is the real me, like maybe a lot of things before today and tomorrow and the next day were just practice. like now i'm ready to do real work, to be a real person, to really invest and jump into whatever my life is becoming, and stop holding back. it feels so good to just say that. to know that there is a point at which i can just jump, and know that i will be held, caught, and celebrated.

sometimes, when beauty and encouragment and knowledge and wisdom are right in front of you, you just miss it. so, mommy and momma cat and aunt nea and uncle ed, granny, papaw, seth, monica, will, esteban, caro, moo, and all the rest of you who love me and have been beating these lessons into my head for years-- i finally got it. this is life out loud. and i am turning the volume up. thanks be to God. i can't wait to see your faces, all your faces.

mil besos--rmg

post card from the edge, vol. 6

it's been a long hot week at camp crazy. in fact, it's so hot that the snakes are crawling into the oddest of places to find refuge. i had to close our river front today. kind of made me a little sad to know that the river is closed for the rest of the summer, even though that's only 8 more days. 8 more days, friends and neighbors, and then i come home to do whatever it is that i'm supposed to do next. i'm so excited and nervous, and a little sad that the last three months have just flown by.

let me break this week down for you in the simplest of terms. i'll just do what my 7th grade history teacher called "hit the high spots".

1) my staff and i beat the hell out of the girl scouts, who have a camp down the road from us and were dumb enough to challenge us to a flag football game. we skunked them, proving once again that jesus saves, and girl scout cookies just make you fat. it was glorious. and my mom and grammy showed up to cheer us on, which i was particularly happy about. i just stopped being sore all over my body from where the scary girls hit me, over and over and over, because cheating was the only way they were going to win. ha ha. it was amazing.

2) two of my kitchen staff boys were stupid enough to put a roasted pig head in my toilet. upon discovering it, i screamed like a little girl, and utterly queened out. my friend jackie had to get it out for me, because i started gagging, and sarah made fun of me for screaming like a girl. it was awful.

3) in retribution for the pig head, i completed the greatest prank of my life, so far. i made jello in their toilet, and covered their bathroom floor in shaving cream. i had help, but it was my idea about the jello. this cannot be overstated. i made real, congealed jello in the toilet. i am so freaking proud of this. i might not be as proud of my child, if i have one, as i am of this prank, because it was genius. and i got to use dry ice. this proves, once again, that revenge is a dish best served cold. and 18 year olds were made to be stupid, and i've already assumed that i am going to be re-pranked, and have hatched a plan for my re-prank, as well. i'll keep you posted. it'll be hard to beat the jello, though.

4) i have convinced several small children of the existance of bulligators, a carry over from my childhood. my poppy convinced me that a bulligator lived in the ill-fated basement in the house i grew up in. a bulligator is a cross between a bulldog and an alligator, and it will bite your face off. it keeps them out of scary places. they love it. i heard someone talking about their pet bulligator today, and i rubbed my hands together, content that my plan to take over the universe is, in fact, working.

life is good. pray for rain.

mil besos--rmg

post card from the edge, vol. 5

it's 9:40pm, tony bennett is on the cd player. if i had a glass of scotch in my hand, fresh from a bath, i'd never know i was at camp. i know that i will desperately miss this place when i am gone. i'm kind of ready for that feeling, right now. it's wednesday. this camp session isn't over until sunday at 10am (hint, hint for those of you who need some church and some face time with me), and i am just tired. today, i really felt tired, for the first time this whole summer. tired in my bones, like if i had to manage one more crisis, band-aid one more bruised ego, faciliate one more staff meeting, dry one more homesick tear, do one more load of sandy, wet clothing, i might just fall to pieces. that is not a luxury in which i am capable of indulging. so, i'm relishing every moment of this early evening, enjoying what has just become a nat king cole track (i got a classic ballads cd on my last break...), and thinking about folding clean laundry, so i can sleep on my bed tonight.

everything really is alright. this is not an s.o.s. this is just me being honest. i adore camp. this summer has made me remember more things that i can begin to list, learn more things than i imagined, and forced me to ask hard questions, the likes of which i am often breathless simply contemplating, much less actually confronting. i knew that this summer would do one of two things--it would either answer some questions or drag up new ones. i can honestly say that i have exactly two answers to questions i had at the beginning of the summer. and i can honestly tell you that i have about a million more questions than i did when i got here. and that's pretty amazing.

jim valvano was a coach for villanova when they won their first ncaa basketball championship. it was a cinderella story to end all cinderella stories. he was a hero of mine for a long, long time. before he died, he was on the espy awards, and talked about what it meant to live every day. he said that to really live every day, you had to laughed, cry, and think. i have lived more days out here this summer than i have in the past year. that one fact makes all the ego juggling, immaturity, maddening schedules, fussy parents, non-compliant teenagers, humidity, ant infestations, pool vacuums and rules, being rolled in the volleyball sand, eating the same meals week after week, getting grass in my hair, etc. absolutlely and totally 100% worth it. this is life, this is my day to day. whatever happens after august 14th, i will be grateful for this time in my life, come what may. i will never get this time back, and God helping me, i am trying to live, really live, every day, at camp or not. this is too amazing to allow it to stop when i go home and find out what life is outside of this place, again. i'm a little afraid, a little excited, but mostly just content to see what comes next, whenever it pokes it's head around the corner.

mil besos--rmg

by the numbers...

12--the number of toilets i have plunged so far this summer

2--the number of people i have had to send home from camp for being stupid

1--the number of toilets i have had to snake out. and yes, i do know how to snake a toilet. aren't you proud?

1 million--the number of egos i have stroked and cajoled in the pursuit of a better camping experience for my campers.

21--the number of days until i go home and sleep in a real bed and eat food that doesn't come from sysco.

21--the number of days until i have a bathroom that only belongs to me.

10--the number of years i have progressively aged and then regressed at camp, depending on the day and the situation.

9--the number of verbal smackdowns i have had to issue to people who have gotten too big for their britches.

25--the number of verbal smackdowns i WISH i had issued to people who have gotten too big for their britches

875-- the number of times i have explained why we do things a certain way, justified a postion, or gently told someone to butt the heck out of something over which they have no say.

20--the average age of my staff

27--how old i am

2--the average amount of letters i get in a week

5--the average amount of letters i mail in a week

3--the number of cd's i bought at target on my last break

12--the number of kayaks i have to unrack and rerack everyday, except for today, because God loves me enough to make it rain

15--the number of pounds i have sweated off this summer, racking and reracking kayaks

3--the number of razor blades i have gone through this summer

2--the number of sticks of deodorant i have gone through this summer

6--the average number of times i get thrown into the pool or river every week

2--the average number of loads of laundry i have to do every week, assuming that the average number of times i get pushed in the pool does not exceed 6

7--predicted number of crying girls at the dance tonight

10--predicted number of crying boys after they get the smack down for being disrespectful to women at the pool today during their devotionals tonight.

1--the number of summers i will spend doing this job. ever. seriously. i love it, but once is enough.

20--number of times a day i wish i didn't have to be the grown up.

1 million--the number of times i am grateful that i have an incredibly family and friend network that have made me the person i am today.


i know you all have real jobs, but if you're interested in spending four days at camp, helping run a session for inner-city, under priviledged children, from august 8-13th, i can definately put you to work. let me know if you're insane enough to join the freak show for a couple of days.

i love you freaks.

mil besos--rmg

post card from the edge, vol 4

i don't know when i've had a worse time at the beach. it rained. i only got to go swimming three times, and it was cloudy and overcast, so my tan isn't what i wanted it to be, at the moment. however, since i get to be head lifeguard this whole freaking week, since we are understaffed and overcommitted, i will be able to make up for lost sun by pulling kayaks in and out of the river, and making sure small children don't end at the bottom of the guad.

there are days here that seem like months. i can't remember being this homesick, even when i was a camper. my cousin jeane used to go to a camp for special children, and when she would come home from a week away, she would run to her room, turn on the tv, radio, record player, and anything else she could get her hands on, and lay across her bed, just happy to be home. i would move heaven and earth to be able to go home for six hours right now, and just see my family and sit down at my table and talk to my momma. i don't even give a crap about sleeping in my own bed. and that's a stretch, because i'm kind of over sleeping in a twin bed, without my good sheets and feather pillow top.

i love my job. i love my job, everyday. i get to be outside, i get to hang out with amazing people who are asking amazing questions about God and the universe, and are learning to find good answers to those questions. i get to talk about how i feel, what i think, what i want out of life. i get to pray every day. i get to sing every day. i get to laugh and cry and think every day, and be utterly unashamed about all of those things. for the first time in a long time, i feel like i am really alive, and i am bursting with that feeling. sometimes, it's almost too much to hold inside, too much to keep to myself, and i wonder what took me so long to allow myself to feel this, to get out of the way, and just be. i feel like a can opener has been turned on inside of me, and everything i thought i could never feel or be is pouring out. and i thank God for that, even though sometimes it's intense and a little scary.

there have been days and situations lately that i know i am not big enough, or smart enough, or creative enough, or brave enough to handle. but i have. and i have no explanation other than God as to how those days and situations got handled. i am consistently caught off guard by what comes out of my mouth, by conversations i'm allowed to have, by decisions i have to make, because i know that in a very real sense, i'm definately not the one doing the real work. i just feel open in a new way to letting God do the work that needs to be done through me. now, you can think i've gone off my rocker, flipped my lid, and take a bit of a crazy cracker. but there's no other way i can explain the things that have been happening over the summer. i know i'm not this smart, or this good. i mean, i'm freaking smart, and i am good, but this is far above and beyond what i am capable of doing. and i love knowing that and living into that. getting out of the way is the hardest thing i have to do everyday. because the minute i start doing this job, and stop letting God do it through me, things will go to hell awfully fast. and i don't want that, because too many good things will be lost, not the least of which is this time i get to spend with God, every day, doing this thing.

i am tired. i will be tired tomorrow, and the day after that, and probably the day after that, too. and the easy days are harder than i imagined the hardest days would be. and that's ok. this yoke is much easier than i imagined. the burden is light in a way i never imagined, because i can rest in the knowledge that, in a very real sense, i am just along for the ride, just the jar that holds the water.

it's midnight, and i'm probably not making a lot of sense. so many things seem to bubble up before i go to sleep. there are letters to write, phone calls that will have to wait for tomorrow, evaluations i need to finish, chapters in the book to edit and email out, and work emails i need to return. there are questions about my future that i'm not ready to ask, or answer, and that's ok. i can feel the changes coming, the way you can feel a storm about to blow in, when the air feels and smells heavy with rain, somewhere between a caress and a punch, somewhere between excitement and anxiety. all things shall be well. life sits on a spiral. blessed be.

mil besos--rmg

this is from when i fell out of the kayak during staff wee and hit my leg on a low water bridge. it was pretty incredible. it looks much better, now. it was lovingly referred to as my "leg herp" by my staff.  

small consolation...

i'm hiding in my room before my next round of meetings. ryan adams is on repeat. i just ate some chinese food that was less than stellar, and managed to get 9 hours of sleep last night, wash all my laundry, and treat the gigantic zit that formed on my upper lip during the marathon beach retreat from hell. and in spite of all of that, i still love the fact that i'm at camp. i'm excited and terrified about what may or may not happen when i leave this place. i walk a tight rope everyday. and i like that. but i'm a little tired right now, and i wish like anything that i had more than 24 hours between finishing one thing and starting the next one. there are so many things to say, so much i want to write, but there's just not enough time to put it all down. i will try and do a big post tonight, full of rambling, just like i know you like it. mil besos--rmg

post card from the edge, vol. 2

"when the going gets weird, the weird turn pro"--hunter s. thompson, by way of corywill...

oh, my sweet people. it's been a long week and a half. right now, i'd like to stare down a bottle of something you have to be 21 to buy, and sleep for 36 hours straight. in the last three weeks, i've made a cps call, put an employee on probation, and fired two people for smoking pot behind the cabins where small children sleep. i'm kind of over being in charge, for the moment. i'm about to run to chapel, and listen to the primary campers talk to God. that is amazing, and that is why i'm glad i am here. because, in the long run, it's not about the drama. it's not about people who won't act right, no matter how many incentives or threats i throw at their feet. at the end of the day, it's about those little kids, who sing and learn, and grown up to be us, and do the same thing for other little kids that we've done for them. case in point, a counselor who was on summer staff when i was 11 or 12 sent his baby girl to us this week, so we could do for her what he did for us. life is a wheel.

congrats to john james derkits III, who became a deacon on saturday. and congrats to laura jane for being the best seminary wife in the world.

i'm using my teaching time this week to catch up on correspondence, so be looking in your mailbox for a little something from camp crazy. life is good, and beautiful, even when it's hard and confusing. i remember that when i watch the sun set, and the stars come up, and it seems easier to remember it here.

i saw three shooting stars the other night. and with that, i'm going to go steal some adderall from a third grader.

mil besos--rmg

the (amazing and ) fabulous adventures of cat girl and swamp ass (her brother)

oh friends and neighbors, it's been a long week. i'm talking years long. last week was like a first date, and i had no idea what to expect. this week has been worse than my last date, which if you've forgotten, was three years ago, featured a creepy pony-tail man, and ended with me fleeing one of my favorite watering holes in austin in utter shame and terror.

so last week, i was reunited with an individual i never expected to see, again. cat girl was in my cabin for a weekend retreat when she was in third or fourth grade. i remember her because she talked incessantly about her cats and how much she missed them. this is not unusual for primary campers, since it's one of their first times away from home for any length of time. what was weird was just this camper. and, i'm embarassed to say, much to my chagrin, she was not only cat girl, she was smelly cat girl, all my gentle pleadings with the whole cabin to bathe and not return home smelling like a foot. i tried to bond with this child, and learned the lesson that not ever camper will be your favorite, and you will not be the favorite of every camper. oh cat girl, the wisdom you imparted...and literally changed my life. you freak me out a little bit, still, but i do love you.

imagine my suprise when i was doing registration last week, looked up and saw the face of cat girl, only this time, she was all grown up. she was also still unmistakenly cat girl. i was terrified that she was going to get eaten alive by the trampy girls, the popular girls, the scary girls, and the jocks. she thrived, proving my father's adage that it does, in fact "take all kinds". cat girl was asked to dance by the cutest boy on kitchen staff, in front of her cat girl entourage (because even though she was cat girl, she had a whole following...grace IS amazing), on his knees. and even though it was hard to watch her struggle through what may have been her first boy/girl dance, and because i kept tearing up everytime i looked at her little face, adoring this boy, and knowing that for just a moment, she was the girl every other girl wanted to be, i was happy for her, i was happy to know her, happy that she had been my little cat girl, and had come back to teach me another lesson about life. it was pretty cool.

she came back this week. i almost died (again) at registration. only this time, she brought her brother, swamp ass. he's this really tall kid who looks like he's been put together with paper clips and rubber bands, and pretty much lives in jeans, hiking boots, and graphic t's. he looks kind of like a napolean dynamite, minus the curly hair and glasses. now, you may think that we are cold-hearted individuals, when we make up names for people, but be honest with yourself--you do it, too. and when you have 110 kids in a camp session, certain attributes of certain children are much more recognizable than their name tags. it is a fact that this kid wears jeans every where he goes. and if it were a monetary issue, i would die before i ever made that a point of reference. it's not. i think he just really likes his jeans. it's also FREAKING HOT outside, and we play every day, for an hour. now, when one plays for an hour in shorts, one can work up quite the sweat, when one plays in jeans for an hour, one can work up a good case of what we like to refer to as swamp ass. i'll let you use your imagination. all i can say is that i hope the young man brought some gold bond with him, or can borrow some from his cabin counselor. in any event, he achieved a level of swamp ass at which everyone could marvel, much to our disbelief and horror. but that kid plays like no other. it might not be pretty, and it might look like he's actually having a grande mal seizure when he plays any and every game, but he has the best time playing, whether it's frisbee or dodgeball or counselor hunt. swamp ass plays his guts out. and i find it more and more probable that God's sense of humor trumps all, because when i found out that cat girl and swamp ass were brother and sister, i accidentally peed in the pool. it was just all too perfect. and i love them, in the midst of their weirdness and akwardness. and i wonder if God feels that way about us, too. it was an amazing moment on many levels.

so, cat girl and swamp ass, this post is for you. you were the face of Christ to me, this week. thanks be to God.

mil besos, and a long hot shower--rmg

postcard from the edge, vol. 1

" when true simplicity is gained, to bow and bend, we shan't be ashamed, and turn, turn will be our delight til we end up in the place that's right..." so goes the first week of camp with the campers in tow. the last three weeks have been so full of so many things. i think i've laughed and cried a little bit everyday. oh, and i had to get a tetanus shot today. i got a real beauty of a scrape all down my right shin when i fell out of my kayak, and since the guadalupe just isn't as clean as she used to be, nurse katy thought i needed to get a stick. my arm hurts, now, as well. but at least i won't be getting lock jaw anytime in the next ten years. or diptheria. it's good to have my bases covered. camp is a hoot. i saw a kid try to stick a whole water bottle in his mouth tonight. i have had to ask campers to put on more clothes, to stop touching each other, and to get off their cell phones. granted, i've had to ask that from a couple of my staff members, too, so i'm just thankful no one is pregnant, yet. what is it about freaking church camp that makes people want to do smootching around in the bushes? someone should bottle and sell that--they'd make a mint. i got to take one of my staffers to the er in kerrville, today. it was large. he's a funny kid. he actually leaned over at one point while we were waiting for the doc to read his x-rays, and (this was unprovoked, totally, i swear, because contrary to popular myth, i don't really talk about farting with anyone outside of close family and friends...) and farted ON me. not at me, not in my general direction, but ON me. oddly enough, we've been working on a nature trail on camp property and laying down cedar posts, which is exactly what this fart smelled like. and i told him so. he agreed. oh, and tonight, i had my first serenade. this is a very big deal at camp. my guys' staff came over and sang me a song before i went to bed. they sang me "drive on" by jack ingram. great song. i cried while they were singing, because i am a total push over for nice things. and they said they loved me when they left. it's good to be loved. my return key is stuck again, so i'll shut this day down. life is good. i'm glad i'm here. it's time for some advil for my arm. tomorrow is dance night, which translates into a huge dose of birthcontrol for yours truly. how any of us managed to become modrately functional adults after the horrors of adolescense is beyond me...i can already smell the old spice and the hormones, and the dance is still almost 20 hours away. geeze, oh man. oh, and congrats to esteban, who finished his first marathon on sunday. i love you! and happy late birthday to beano. i owe you a phone call. and you too, anna. and you too, moo-moo. mil besos--rmg

for poppy...

my gramps died last night. he was taking out the trash, after a long, fun weekend, walked out of his back door and into the arms of a loving and merciful God. i've been running in a fog since five this morning, and i really just want some sleep. but i wanted to talk about my poppy, first. some of you knew him, some of you don't, but it's my blog, so here we go...

poppy was my own personal super hero. there was no one bigger, stronger, better, kinder, gentler, wiser, tougher, or more amazing than my poppy. from the time i could crawl into the cab of his pickup until i had to start nursery school, i went everywhere he did. even to construction jobs. he never talked down to me, never made me think i couldn't do just what i set out to do, never let me give up or give in. he taught me the value of a day's work, and the value of a day's pay. he taught me that if you have a job to do, do it right and be proud of your work. he taught me to treat people fairly, regardless of what color their skin was, what kind of education they had, or how much money they had in their pockets. family always came first, and even though it sometimes meant that he had to drive 80 miles one way to provide for his family, he did it. giving of your time and your resources was big for poppy. he went on two vet trips to honduras, gave away countless gobs of candy to hungry children, and brightened up the lives of everyone he visited with.

poppy could have cared less about fancy theology. God was real, Jesus was real, and both had bailed his butt out of many a pot of hot water. faith drove him, and you could feel that in his presence. poppy prayed for a list of people every morning, our family, his friends, neighbors, people from church, etc. what his prayers may have lacked in eloquence, they made up for in love and sincerity. poppy always reminded me to pray, reminded me that God was good, all the time, even when things weren't fair or ok. reminded me that the rain falls on the just and the unjust, and that the bitter comes with the sweet.

poppy always had time for a story, or a cuddle, or a word of wisdom. he was never too busy, or too tired, or too grown up to play or laugh or chat. poppy's advice was simple, direct, and never sugar-coated. he taught me to hunt and fish, how to drive, and how to tell a good story. he had beautiful blue eyes that had seen a million miles, a million plumb lines, a million pounds of concrete, the pyramids in egypt, the wailing wall in jerusalem, the beaches of mexico, and the horror of war in korea, but they still managed to laugh and twinkle everytime we sat around the table together. i think i will miss that most of all.

so, sweet poppy, enjoy your first night home. hunt big, tell my daddy i said hello. we'll all be home soon, so keep the light on, and know we love you.

mil besos--rmg

charmed life

so, in the past, oh 15 days, i have seen three famous people who's work i adore.

i took my mom to see merle haggard and bob dylan. it was an incredible show. i like merle haggard, don't get me wrong. but bob dylan sits high in my pantheon. seeing him in real life was amazing. from the minute he launched into "maggie's farm" until the last bit of reverb of "all along the watchtower", i was enthralled, entranced, fixated, mesmerized, etc. the whole rest of the world outside could have gone to hell, and i wouldn't have known a thing about it. some of you know my deep love for mr. dylan, so you can imagine that when he started singing "don't think twice, it's alright", that i cried a little bit. i love that song. it's one of those songs that speaks to me, and says something different every time. the harmonica solos were enough to send me into low orbit. and his lap steel player may well have ascended some kind of existencial plane and become a little more than a man and a little less than a god, that night--and he played a mean banjo, too. "like a rolling stone" was part of the second encore, and it was as tight and solid, light, and lovely as anything i've heard on an album, but better, because i was right there. i would have paid twice what i did to be there with my mom. it was amazing to see bob dylan, but it was twice as nice to see him with mom.

and then we saw dennis quaid. not only saw him play with his band, but saw him at gruene hall, and TOUCHED him (on the hand, and in a totally appropriate way, because he's remarried, now). that is one hot dad. and he plays a good show. and represents very well in real life. and he played "gloria" and "great balls of fire", two of my favorite songs, ever, in the whole world.

it's been a nice little run of good music, lately. the laundry monster demands to be appeased. and i have about 80 million things to do. c'est la vie, non?

mil besos--rmg

april, and everything after...

it seems that may is close upon my heels. and while april hasn't been the cruelest month, it has surely flown by in the blink of an eye. camp is looming, and i'm wavering between being scared and excited. mostly, i'm excited, and can't wait to start being there. we set the orientation schedule on tuesday, and i think it's going to be a great set up to start the staff off right. i have to say that i'm mostly excited about the crawfish boil we've got set up. i mean, the other stuff is fun and enriching and all that crap, but what's not to like about crawfish? FREE crawfish, even.

sweet caroline married her beloved mr. christman last week, and it was a lovely time. nothing could be finer than watching someone you love love someone enough to commit the rest of their lives to that person. i was humbled and blessed to have been a part of their special day. the best thing that i can say about this marriage, in particular, is that it gives me hope. now i know i have the tendency to get all mushy, but indulge me, the varsity letterman bridesmaid, to mush away.

sweet caroline, moo, and i have been in the trenches together, as only sister-friends can be. we have like scum bag boys who have broken our hearts. we have liked boys who were not good for us, or good too us, or just bad fits. moo is the one who keeps our faith, reminds us of the promises that have been made that we won't be alone forever. caro is the one who reminds us that we have to listen to our heads and our hearts, because too much or too little of either one makes for a poor experience. and i like to prentend that i'm the one who watches from the corner, taking in all the information, and processing it into something like a book report, for further digestion and reflection. but my sweet caroline had all but thrown in the towel. and then came mr. christman, on something like a modern day white horse, and swept our girl off her feet in short order, and put her firmly back in the game. he put a light behind her eyes that i had seen flicker, but he had something inside of him that made it glow like a spotlight. and for that, regardless of all my threats to kill him if he put a foot wrong, i will love him, too. and my pride and wonder in sweet caroline having the guts and the courage and the wonderment to gamble on love makes me wonder and hope that i can have the will to do the same, one day.

life is good. never doubt it for a minute.

mil besos--rmg

this was not the most bizarre thing i saw on bourbon street. but it was a close second. 

pat o'briens in the french quarter on bachelorette party night. need i say more? moo and i put on our most alluring faces and went on a husband hunt. ok, not really, but we had a great time.  

the bride wore white...and lucious curls. caro has perfect hair. and she's married. i want to be caro when i grow up. 

bridesmaids' running amok. cigars were as close to mayhem as we got...we were sternly warned about the use of adult bevs prior to nuptials. but the ladies have gots to have some fun...and the fun was had. 

southern bridesmaid hair--it's all about the poof, people. it's all about the poof. and the little black dress helps, too. and some industrial strenght hair glue never hurts... 

ugh...

i hate to be a downer, but seriously...this takes the cake. i need a vacation from my subconscious. the wedding was wonderful, beautiful, glorious, and everything a wedding should be. and then i drove for 8 hours thinking about weddings, people in love, etc. it seriously jacked with my head, and i had bizarre and disturbing, and very lucid dreams for the better part of three hours this morning. it's never fun to wake up and want to cry. major, major blah.

in other news, related to my trip, new orleans looked better than i expected, but not as good as i hoped. i saw an alligator crossing the highway, a turtle crossing the highway, and some hateful woman outside houston took a huge dump and stopped up a toilet that i desperately needed to use. so, i plunged my first and (PLEASE TO GOD) hopefully last gas station toilet. and to add insult to injury, it was the kind of gas station that makes you buy something to use their bathroom. considering that i performed maintenence, i think i should have gotten a pass on the obligatory purchase. my only complaint, other than that, was that there was no graffitti in said bathroom, and now i have to invent someway to get the plunging story into my book. thoughts?

it's almost going-home time. i'm vacillating between stopping to work out, or just going home and going straight to bed, not passing go, and not collecting two hundred dollars. maybe i'll flip for it. or, i may be trapped in the computer room, because stinky j just stuck his hands down his pants and then proceeded to rub down the doorknob. i love this child, but he is a walking advertisement for strict and potent birthcontrol.

mil besos, and dreamless sleep--rmg

long time coming

ok, so i will admit that blogging hasn't been on my to do list of late. but it has been on my mind. the truth of the matter is that i've been swamped with work, work, and a little bit more work. and when i do get a minute to myself, i've been trying to make myself run or go to curves, which seems to be the salvation of chubby housewives everywhere, and me, single, chubby, 27 me. lucky for me, today the soundtrack at curves was 80's girl rock. did i mention that in addition to working at my old summer camp, i also get to be a lifeguard? hence with all the running and self-improvement. oh, and i actulaly joined a tanning salon. you can pick youselves off the floor now. i even suprise myself, once in a while. the rest of the time, when i'm not working, or sleeping, or working off the 30 odd pounds of taco bell i packed onto myself in college, i'm trying like the dickens not to be so irritated by mundane crap. i'll let you in on a little secret: despite the charming personality i let you people see, i'm really quite easily irritated. and since my friend tpon told me once that me actually admitting my irritations made me "more edgy and less like pollyana always blowing rays of sunshine up people's posteriors", i'll let you in on the short list.

1. i am highly irritated and grossed out by the mucinex commercials. there's nothing more insulting and gross than talking and dancing snot wads in a conga line. in fact, it makes me want to just suffer through my allergy attacks than buy their stupid dancing snot wad product.

2. i am highly irritated and insulted that abc has commissioned a remake of the Ten Commandments. charlton heston IS moses, and the parting of the red sea is supposed to look like jello, crappily filmed on a sound stage. that's the way it happened, as far as i'm concerned. this is a travesty. and i will watch the new one, just so i can complain that it's not as good as the first one. btw, we had to watch the 1st version in my 6th grade social studies class when we studied ancient egypt. that would never happen anywhere else in the world, i guarantee it.

3. i hate that i watch 24 like a fiend. same goes for lost. i am cracked out on both of these shows. for someone who barely watched cable tv, or any tv, for the better part of four years, this is like eating a whole chocolate cake after months of doing adkins. not that i'd know anything about that...the shows are ridiculous to the point of being, well, ridiculous. smell the fart acting, implausible story lines, and crazy background music that makes my heart beat fast all combine to make my monday and wednesday nights complete. i'm really irritated that invasion is now on hiatus. that show sucks, too, but i have to watch it. it's like a compulsion. like how i have to have the closet door shut when i sleep, or can't stand to have open cabinet doors in the bathroom or the kitchen. i hate how much i like these shows.

4. sean hannity irritates me to the point of no return. i even like rush limbaugh better than i like sean hannity, and that's a hard thing for me to say. talk radio, since i'm now a part time office girl, has become a big part of my day. i can grin and bear it through rush, but sean hannity makes me want to listen to nails grating on a chalk board rather than his pedantic nattering. sorry, i mean his sanctimonious pedantic nattering. i hate it when i leave that part out. he's a hack. that's right, a hack. it's one thing to disagree with politics, it's another to just bully people and shout them down. i hope he's secretly a nice person at home, because he's a butthole at his job. that's right, a butthole. and i think he and bill o'reilly should be marooned on an island together, and have to figure out how to turn their egos into food and water. if they did that, we could solve the hunger issue immediately. imagine what we could do if we could turn their egos into petroleum products...the possibilities are endless.

5. i'm irritated by politics. that's all i'll say about that, because as the reigning raging liberal in my family, most of whom read this blog, i'd like to keep the peace, and still be invited to eat and visit, and live with them.

6. i'm irritated that you can't use airline miles whenever you want to. i know the reasons, i just don't like them.

7. i'm irritated that coke zero has aspertame in it. why can't they make it with splenda?

8. i'm irritated that i don't always trust my emotions enough to act on them. i'm irritated that i buffer my feelings and thoughts to be pleasing, accomodating, and nice. secretly, i hate being nice. there's a short list of people who i'd like to call out, yell at, tell how it is, etc. but i won't do that, probably ever, because the fall out just wouldn't be worth it. i'm irritated by people who continually crap away potential, hold on to things of which they should let go, don't keep up with current events, don't keep up with each other, and who wonder who's mad at them for not doing those things. i'm irritated that i censor those feelings, and don't say that to the people who need that said to them. it's just as bad as pretending everything is fine, when everyone knows it's not.

9. i'm irritated that i can only walk out of starbucks without a cd every other time i go in there. they have the best music. and i always get the most random stuff. it's worse than when i go to target, and come out with crap i don't need. or when i actually get to go to waterloo records, and buy music i've never heard of, listen to for a month, and then put away and don't listen to for another six months. madness!!

there. that's all. now you get why i'm not blogging lately. aren't you glad i ran out of energy and funny things (ok, mostly funny) things to say at number 9? taking the long view, i will say that things are well, for the most part. i'm healthy, my family is healthy. my nephew is cutting teeth, which is amazing to me. i've gotten the job i've wanted since i was 12, and even though it's just for the summer, i look forward to that time, in that place, with those people. things are moving forward for a great summer at camp. it's springtime, and the days are lovely.

mil besos--rmg

automatic for the people

yeah, yeah, i know the title for my post is the name of an REM album. deal with it. if michael stipe liked women, i would want to marry him. what a great band...their music is certainly a part of my inner-soundtrack. if i made a record with music about my life, i would cover like 8 REM songs. ok, it would be more like a boxed set of records about my life, and since i'm such a rotten guitar player, the odds of me actually learning to play a quarter of those songs moderately ok is slim to none. and that's ok.

so, tuesday was quite the day in my little life. the morning started out like any other...hanging out with baby a and stinky j, trying to get a 15 minute power nap between the time stinky j got on the bus and when i had to put baby a in the shower, i was kept fully awake by stinky j's guinea pig (remind me when i have children to put a firm and solid ban on vermin as pets...), who kept banging on the bars of her cage (i know if i could hear her talk, she would have been chanting "attica, attica...") until i gave her some timothy grass. and then around 10 am, i got the call that little old me had been hired to be camp director for the summer at my old camp. you can read all about the things we do, etc. at www.campcapers.org

needless to say, i am ridiculously excited. and a little nervous. and that's ok. all will be well.

the world's fattest baby and finest purveyor of neck cheese weighs 15 pounds now, and is rolling over. and his parents reported that he has begun verbalizing in response to their talking to him. i am expecting him to speak any day now. i told you he was advanced. supposedly he's coming to visit in a couple of weeks. that will be a good weekend. i will be coaching him on his speech. i'm trying to decide which word i'd like to teach him first. as his aunt, i feel obligated to warp him in a loving way as soon as possible. like my friend e-beth, who taught her nephew to say "take a dump" instead of "go poo-poo". it was a big hit a day care. i can only hope that when my time comes to teach my nephew, i can do as well.

that's it, really. kind of boring, i know. but it's been a kind of boring month, except for the last week, which was nice. surreal, but nice. and i don't mean that in a notting hill sort of way.

mil besos--rmg

long time, no blog

so, it's 1am on a thursday. i've been doing data entry for about 5 hours today, cataloguing state primary candidates. right now, i hate politics with a passion. although, it's incredible there aren't more contested primaries. that's kind of sad to me. although, i am glad to not have as many names to enter into my magical database. all i can say is that the movie "ray" is an excellent movie to type along to. mercy, me.

life is good, nevertheless. i'm still in flux, for those of you keeping score at home, but there is movement on the horizon, possibly.

i'm off to see my nephew this weekend. expect an obnoxious amount of pictures when i get back.

there will be new things to say, soon. i promise.

mil besos--rmg

free minute

i have about fifteen unassigned minutes today, and all i have to say is that neil young's greatest hits just about rocked me out of my car yesterday. i remember the summer before i turned 16 as the summer i discovered neil young and learned how to drive a stick shift. both have had a lot to with how i turned out, i think. harvest was the album, and the rabbit was my car, and the back yard was my entire universe.

if i learned anything from neil young it is this: you don't have to have the world's greatest voice as long as you have something decent and beautiful to say, because at some point, the music just takes over and does what it will. and if you can write a great song and put a great harmonica solo in on top of it, you have written a truly classically kick-you-in-the-teeth-and-butter-your-biscuit great song. from the stick shift, i learned patience and finesse. i could use more stick shift driving in my life, i think. i know for a fact that i could use more neil young.

is it just me, or do harmonica solos just make you want to something crazy, like tear off all your clothes and go run screaming down the middle of the street because they are so freaking sweet? lucky for the rest of the free world that a) i have serious inhibitions and b) harmonica solos that sublime and amazing are few and far between. heart of gold, kids, that song is where it's at for little me, right now. geeze oh man.

i think i may be over-caffinated today. in fact, i'm sure of it. a large coffee drink from the 'bucks, several glasses of tea at lunch with mom and the grand'rents, and a diet coke with splenda made my lack of a nap today hardly noticiable. my plan is working...ah ha ha ha ha.

mil besos--rmg

drive by...

ok, i'm not dead. i haven't given up blogging. i haven't baricaded myself in my room with four packages of double stuff oreos and five gallons of milk to die the perfect fat girl death. i've just been really, really, really, insanely busy. and it is a good feeling.

however, in between cleaning my room, doing laundry, running to kohl's to find cute clothes for my pseudo-business trip this weekend, and planning what is becoming a very busy spring and summer, i thought i'd jot off a little post to the old blog.

for those of you keeping score at home, we can chalk four points up to my side of the board for overall good utility play on last weekend's young adult vocational retreat. it was wonderful. and even though the gulf of mexico was a scorching 56 degrees, you can bet your sweet bippy that i went swimming. it was glorious. additionally, you can chalk another 5 points onto my side of the board for having the intestinal fortitude to drop myspace from my life before it became what we like to call " a real problem". geeze oh man, it was like a high school reunion on crack, and i could feel myself slipping into my desk at the back of the class and wishing to be cool, instead of just being cool. so, sorry to the myspace folk that i miss commenting on, but wow, i had to tear myself away. plus, there is such a thing as knowing too much. in the minus column, you can chalk two points in the stupid man column, regarding the heinous amount of crushing i have been suffering lately. i will be very glad when my hormones remember i am not 12 anymore. until then, my mind and my body will be reminding them on a half-hourly basis. remind me when telling white lies became ok, as long as you didn't mean any harm, because i'd like to get in on that action. seriously, people, seriously.

there is movement on the job front. that is all i am saying about that, because even though i am 27 and should no longer believe in such things, i don't want to jinx this.

the fattest baby in the world is coming to my house this weekend. sadly, i will be in indianapolis, shamelessly angling for a job. and no, it's not as a nascar nasty. indianapolis, apparently, is church conference central. so, i'll be trying to watch my language and act like a lady for 72 hours. i'll let you know how that goes. i think i am going to get the fattest baby in the world a treat, but the jury is still out about what i should get him. his grandmother has forbidden me to bring him back anything to do with nascar, although i'm sure his father would get a big kick out of that.

life is good. i think i still have some sand in my ears.

mil besos--r

four calling birds...

merry fourth day of christmas, kiddies. hope you and yours had a blast. i think i will be sweating off christmas candy fumes until mid-march. life is good, and getting better all the time.

mil besos--r

i wanted to get a picture of mr. will in a christmas stocking, but the little fatty wouldn't fit. guess this shot of him looking perfectly angelic will have to do... 

will and his cita...i'm not sure who likes who more, but these two were just about inseperable.  

will and his great-gramps, my poppy, had a big time on christmas eve. 

will, already a very enterprising young man, is beginning to groom his hair to rival a certain mr. trump. watch out, wall street! 

my little cousin brandon took this picture. he'd had enough sugar to sink a boat, so the only way to get him to be tolerable was to give him the camera. i am a sucker for a 7 year old sugar fiend. 

will and me. this might be the cutest picture EVER. he looks like he knows a secret. 

look at those hog jaws!!  

merry christmas, happy hannukah. why yes, that IS a snotcicle hanging from my nose...

this is ridiculous. for the third christmas season in a row, i am monumentally sick. cedar fever is kicking my ass as we speak. in fact, my doc stopped just short of giving me steroids, so i'm not the total wuss i thought i was. my allergies really are that bad. and i feel horrid. seriously bad. like so bad that i had a meeting in san antonio today, and i didn't even put on make up to go. and i had no idea if there were going to be cute boys there-- and i still didn't feel well enough to put on make up.

i'm sitting in my bed, wrapped up in an old, thick, blue plaid robe that i liberated from my dad when i was 17 or so, cuddled up in my down comforter, listening to leonard cohen singing about the sisters of mercy, and wishing i could quit hacking up wads of god-knows-what. the bright spot-- last night, i wrapped almost all of my christmas presents, and it's almost time for me to have more nose spray. it's really the little things that are getting me by, today.

seriously, this is the worst time of year to be sick. i have such a love/hate relationship with christmas, anyway, this really just adds insult to injury. it was like right at the moment i was really getting into the spirit of christmas, i started feeling like utter poo. what the hell? i love texas, i was born here, and i will die here. but i freaking hate cedar trees with the white hot intensity of 10 thousand suns. seriously, seriously.

ok, it's nose spray time. i'm sure you're grossed out by now, anyway. i know i am.

happy, merry, pleasant, blah blah blah.

happy birthday, jesus. even though you were probably born sometime in september...

imagine

i know it's cliche. but i miss john lennon, even though i didn't know him. what a polarizing figure...i mean, he almost got deported from the US. he had bed-ins. he made art. he wrote songs that are so deeply embedded in my psyche that invariably a lennon song is on my internal soundtrack at least once a day. when i found out i was going to new york for the first time, strawberry fields was on the list of places to see--high up on that list, i might add. i was so intent on finding it, and so turned around in central park that i made esteban ask motorcycle cops for directions.

i wonder what john lennon would have been like as an elder statesman. i'm sure his children wonder the same thing. i guess it's a little safer for me to wonder what john lennon would have been like as an old man that it is for me to wonder the same thing about my own dad. funny how we make conjecture safe, sometimes, isn't it?

in other news, my nephew looks just like me. and apparently, is also terrifically gassy. i'm afraid more and more that my brother and sister-in-law have had my child, and that i will somehow have theirs. it's been known to happen.

i have got to get into the christmas spirit and quit being such a grinch. maybe this weekend's festivities and shopping will turn the trick. either that, or i can just buy a bottle of maker's mark and fake my way through it. i'll keep you posted. i mean, it's not that i don't like christmas, or that i don't love my family, and all that goes with holiday stuff. i just can't get excited right now, about anything. i guess it's realizing that i've been out of my old job for almost 6 months, and all the stuff i thought i would have accomplished in those 6 months is pretty much not done.

granted, i have gotten some sleep, which i desperately needed. i no longer cry at the drop of a hat. i have actually written some of my book, and taken a few pictures. i just figured by the time new year's came around, i'd be ready to shop some treatment chapters around, and i'm increasingly aware that i don't have enough material with which to do that. and i've had a couple of tepid reviews from my peeps, so i'm kind of gun shy at this point about doing anything with it. like maybe writing what i've got was just a really long journal entry, and that's secretly where it belongs. i dunno. it's hard for me to be objective about what i'm trying to make. and try as i might, i am having a hard time divorcing my essays from the pictures i've taken, even though i know i could get by with just captions. i guess i've realized that i do have something to say, i just don't know how loud i need to say it.

life is good, even when it's complicated. i DO have a purpose and a mission--but it's my job to figure that out, and then DO it with gusto. if i can dream it, i can do it.

jingle-jingle.

mil besos--rmg

love is like a coffee mug

i know, weird title for a post, huh? but i've been thinking this thought for the last three days, and didn't know what else to do but "say" it out loud.

love is like a coffee mug. or at least the kind of love i want, is. so i guess maybe i should say that relationship is like a coffee mug. i have a great affinity for coffee mugs. especially the really big kind, like the huge latte cups you get in coffee shops. caro bought me a big one with a sheep on it for christmas one year. i drink out of that one a lot, because it's big-big, and because it's pretty, and because one of my nearest and dearest gave it to me. but i digress.

see, i've been thinking a lot about relationships lately. ones i've had, ones i've wished i had, ones i imagine i will have at some point. and it all sort of comes back to the same thought-- a coffee mug. see, coffee mugs are sturdy, usually made kind of thick, to keep what's inside good and warm, with a good handle, so you can hang on, or pull it to you. coffee mugs contain, they don't keep. you don't put a lid on a coffee mug. coffee mugs can carry lots of different things---sometimes coffee, or tea, sometimes pens or paperclips, or puzzle pieces. coffee mugs can be refilled, reheated, washed out, and even put away, sometimes. coffee mugs aren't bones of contention, because there are enough coffee mugs for everyone to have whichever one they chose. coffee mugs don't actually fix your coffee, or other tasty beverage, they just take what you are willing to pour into them, and offer that same bit back, when you are ready to have it back. coffee mugs don't suddenly decide to be plates one day, either. and everyone knows immediately that the thing in your hand or on your desk is a coffee mug, and not a tea pot. coffee mugs are painfully obvious, but elegantly purposeful. they can deal with a lot of abuse, and with a little elbow grease and a resolve to be a little more careful, can usually be fixed up if they chip in a place or two. and if they shatter altogether, the shards make nice craft fodder, so at least you can be creative, if you can't have your thirst sated, anymore.

at any rate, this thought may have something to do with the fact that i am embarking on a monumental case of cedar fever as we speak, or it's brilliant, and i just don't have the brain power to fully flesh this one out at the moment.

that's what i think, for today, anyway.

mil besos--rmg

lessons learned

i learned today that after i brush baby a's teeth, it's best not to feed him for about a half hour. how did i learn this lesson--he threw up on me. that was a good lesson to learn. i feel bad for him, and bad for my snowflake pajama pants. but mostly, i feel bad for him. he's not feeling very well at the moment, but motrin and a few breathing treatments, and some tlc should put him back to rights.

i also learned today that stinky j shouldn't ever drink two bottles of gatorade if he's going to be around me for a prolonged period of time, and still be allowed to see his 13th birthday. i also learned that the only thing that can be gained from arguing about whether or not padme and queen amidala are the same person with stinky j is a headache and the strong craving for a drink and a smoke. here's the kicker-- he stayed home from school with a stomach complaint, and wore around the tightest pair of boxer shorts i have ever personally seen. when asked why he was wearing those boxers, and only those boxers, he would only gesticulate with his light saber, and threaten me with various forms of the jedi mind trick. oh, friends and neighbors, it is hard to be that kid. don't get me wrong, i love the little guy, but oh wow, do we have some ground to cover...

i learned this weekend that thanksgiving is about family, or rather i re-learned it. poppy was in the hospital over the holiday, and rather than cancel dinner at the house and keep the turkey in the freezer, we had dinner for relatives, anyway. and it was fine. and i still go to see poppy. and i learned how to make dressing. poppy is out of the hospital, now, and is recouperating at home, under the watchful eye of my grammy. hopefully, he'll be back to his old tricks by christmas. on thanksgiving, i was thankful for my crazy family, who always seems to come around when they are most needed, bringing pies and love.

i learned this weekend that 300 miles going to see my nephew is much shorter than 300 miles driving away from him. that kid is going to be a heartbreaker. i am making a short list of tricks to teach him. i'd also like to report that he smiled (ok, it was prolly just gas, but whatever, i got a picture of him) and almost rolled over. he's very advanced. and he has dimples, which means that he's a little bit like me. i like that. his 'cita says that he looks like me when he cries. she should know, since i did nothing but cry until i was 9 monts old. at any rate, will and his parents are doing very well. i will be boring you to death with more pictures soon.

i learned that it's best not to listen to dave matthews or ryan adams while pondering things about your love life, or lack thereof. same goes for the garden state soundtrack. i learned that when you feel like the universe is screwing you on the relationship deal, it's best to just pretend you don't feel that way, and plaster a smile on your face, and keep doing what you're doing, because the universe is a funny thing. so, i'm doing my thing, and saying my prayers to the baby jesus, and hoping this angsty feeling passes, or that something wonderful will come along and grow into something amazing.

i also learned that even though i'm 27 years old, i'd still rather talk to my mom about matters of the heart than just about any one else. she's a keeper, that one. and even though she can't fix any of the issues, she listens and offers her take on things, and even though things are exactly the same as when we started talking, i feel oddly better.

i learned that even after a two year hiatus, i can still make a mean marinara sauce.

i learned that three week olds make very odd noises, and baby gas smells just as bad as grown up gas does. wow.

i learned that i dislike houston and it's proclivity for municipalities and chambers of commerce more that i dislike dallas for that same reason. see, i can say nice things about dallas.


end of lessons, for today.

mil besos--rmg

not necessarily the news

ok, people. not to sound too much like joan rivers, but can we talk? seriously...i was just over at my grandparents' house printing out some lobby stuff, and chatting with them about thanksgiving plans, when i almost had a fit. a certain news agency that is almost constantly on at their house (no names, but i will tell you that at one time the pelt of this animal was used in couture clothing...until peta went on the kool-aide drinking war-path--but that's another rant) was covering a "major news development" complete with ultra-cool music and tight shots from local affiliates. it was a story about a plane with a wonky landing gear. a corporate jet with a wonky landing gear, not a major air-carrier, like last time. let me say that while i feel a measure of sympathy for people in air-planes with mechanical issues, i do not consider every incidence news worthy. more to the point, i feel like the only reason news agencies broadcast this kind of story is in the macabre hope that something goes wrong and they can get more gore and guts on their broadcast than the other guys, or at least get the guts and gore first. this is, to put it mildly, bullshit of the highest order.

in case anyone forgot, there are hard hitting news stories waiting to be picked up on a daily basis. and they aren't all about blood and guts, or which elementary school teacher banged and then married a student. the stories to be reported aren't all about politicians in washington screwing the rest of the country, one way or the other. the stories to be reported aren't all about little old ladies getting mugged by gang bangers. the stories aren't all about bigots, or zealots, or other run-of-the-mill crazies. there are stories about men and women who succeed in the face of insurmountable obstacles, dogs that help epileptic children, schools for at risk youth with 90% graduation statistics, start-up non-profits that change people's lives with everyday items and run on a shoe-string budget, schools in iraq that get opened and DON'T get firebombed, and the list goes on and on. but instead of those stories, we get more blood, more guts, more gore, more half-truths, more deciet, and less hope. and i think that's a travesty.

bobby kennedy said that he wanted not to see the world as it was and ask why, but to see the world as it could be and ask why not. i wish that those of us who dare to feel that way could have a venue of expressing that in the media. for instance, i wonder what it would be like if all the news media in america decided that on every wednesday, during their prime-time slots, they would focus on four incredible things that happened that day. do you think people would watch it? do you think that people would look forward to prime-time on wednesday nights? do you think the newscasters would look forward to bringing not just the news, but good news to their audience? or do you think that people would like it for about a month, and then get bored and call for a return to regular programming? i wonder. i wonder what it would do for media outlets that ambulance chase, dig for blackmailable info, exploit sources, and create drama. i wonder what it would do for a sense of esprit de corps and civitas that seem to be totally lacking in american society today.

i bet we would start to think of the news and newsmakers in a different light. i bet we would start seeing each other differently. i bet what we think of as being newsworthy would get turned on its head, such that when important, sobering things are reported, we would pay better attention to them, because we wouldn't be so numb to another plane crash, or bombing, or school shooting. maybe we could start looking at our neighbors as people who share our space, instead of people who maybe should be viewed with suspicion, because they look different than we do. maybe we could be vigilant about hope, vigilant about nuturing the potential that lies within us and our neighbors. maybe we wouldsee the world through different eyes, and get different results.

i'm not saying that everything on the news is bad, or that we have become a nation of humbugs. i'm just saying that i think we can do better. as for myself, i promise to do better, to try and find four things everyday that are special and good and amazing. and i will try to put them here.

today's four things:
1) a phone call from an old friend, who after two months, remembered my birthday
2) frozen cadbury eggs
3) stinky j's incredibly good mood, in spite of being 12 and moody most of the time
4) beauregard the dog is bouncing back from his arthritic drama this weekend


mil besos--rmg

oh wow, southpark strikes again

stinky j, my 12 year old cousin, dvr's all the episodes of southpark. this is a very good thing for our relationship. one, it gives us some common ground, and two, it gives me another reason not to tie him into a human knot on a daily basis. additionally, even though i'm 27 years old, my mother hates southpark, and doesn't like to let me watch it. i know, i know. some things never change.

ok, so this week's episode is PURE genius, which was totally lost on stinky j. the southpark guys (trey and matt) did what i have wanted to do for weeks-- they went after tom cruise. and it was brilliant. seriously, you should take five minutes to read the wikipedia entry on scientology. if that isn't enough lead you to spend untold hours tracking down info on the church of scientology, a) you just aren't trying hard enough, or b) you have a real job and no desire to read minutae about random religious philosophy. which is fine, just be prepared when i school your butt in trivial pursuit.

you have GOT to get your hands on this episode. it even made the cnn.com front page. freaking tom cruise with his annoying love proclamations (don't even get me started on his manic goofiness...talk about contrived, people), the way he chewed out matt lauer, and called brooke shields a drug addict, and proclaimed adderall a street drug. and then says he knows the "history" of psychology. yeah, sure ya do, tommy boy, sure ya do.

i mean, i get that not every kid with add or adhd needs drugs. and i get that it seems like every month, we discover a new mental issue. i get that. it frustrates me, sometimes. sometimes, i worry that maybe i have a freak mental issue based solely around being mostly, painfully, normal. however, that does not change the fact that mental illness is a real thing. behavior issues do exist, and sometimes need to be medicated. psychologists, psychiatrists, and counselors are part of the glue that holds western society together. sure, some of them may be quacks, but they are the exception rather than the rule. we can all do with more talking, more feeling, more direction, and for some people, that is done in a therapy setting. and i have a real problem with someone who says that is not real, or that it's evil, or bad, or counter-productive to self-actualization.

as for the freak out on the opra show, i'd like to point out that it looks like tommy boy ate a great big box of crazy. and i don't mean the love kind. i mean the kind where you can either paint your whole apartment in three hours or shave off all your body hair a la bob geldof. i would shudder to think that THAT little display is what i have in store when i finally fall in love. love can make you do silly things, but getting all goo-goo in front of the entire tv viewing world is pushing the envelope. THAT little display is why some people think adderall is a good idea. THAT little freak out, coupled with his nasty remarks re: mental health have spurred me to boycott future tom cruise projects. i say future because i do adore top gun and a few good men. and born on the fourth of july. and far and away. but that's about it.

end of rant. peace out.

mil besos--rmg

mil besos--rmg

william michael graves--welcome to the world, darlingest boy. i promise to love you my whole life. i promise to listen to your adventures and misadventures with my full attention. i promise to be your friend and take you to the zoo. i promise to get you hopped up on sugar and then take you home to your mom and dad. i promise to remember you birthday, and always send you something random. i promise to think about you everyday, and be grateful to God that i know you. i promise to burn lots of gas coming to see you, and i promise i will never complain about the long drive. i promise i will never be too tired to tell you a story or sing you a song. i promise i will ask your mom and dad before i take you to the movies or let you try a new food or drive my car. i promise to make you watch the sun come up at least one time in our life together. i promise to take pictures of you covered in bluebonnets. i promise to burp you after i give you a bottle. i promise to tell you stories about your daddy when he was a little boy. i promise to get you out of jams, when i can help, and to give you inside info on crazy family members. i promise to hold you as much as i can without being a baby hog. mostly, i just promise to love you every day more than i love you today, better than i love you today. you are the newest in a long line of people i love. i promise to be generous with my love, to tell you how much i love you every time i see you.  

will, while a huge fan of the university of texas, is not a fan of his similac with iron formula. see evidence of both-- on his head, and on his lip. this is still the cutest spit up i have ever seen in my whole life. 

will's 'cita, upon his arrival. this was one happy grandma! 

parenthood--it's an amazing thing.  

will's response to his first bath. i have a feeling that this only minor compared to how he will feel when he's two and covered in something way nastier than baby cheese. 

seth and monica-- proud parents. good job, kiddies. 

proudest auntie in all the wide world. this was the best day, ever. 

will, sleeping under my HUGE hand. look at all that hair! 

this is the life

ah...i had a pot of chai this morning...and made 81 phone calls (that's right, 81, not counting call backs and wrong numbers) in my snow flake pajama pants. i HEART contract jobs. seriously. and bob dylan sang to me the whole time. life is better.

btw, does anyone know what the arrondo plant is? i can't find anything out about it. apparently, it's bad, because the calls i was making this morning are all about this expo dealing with the safety of arrondo herbicides and arial distribution of said herbicide. info anyone?

mil besos--rmg

happy hour, anyone?

this lady needs an extra-strength martini, with extra olives, and a set of balls so she can say "no" to more projects. i just got done with a very unsatisfying planning meeting, for an even this weekend, which up until the meeting, i felt pretty good about. now, not so much. i am so irritated that i took time out of my day to drive for and hour each way to do a freaking status update, to find out that two people still hadn't done things i'd asked them to to four weeks ago. i almost threw a fit. i did manage to gracefully remind them that i was on a schedule and that we had shit to do , so to please keep tangents to a minimum. why do i feel like a bitch? yuck!remind me that i'm doing this because i like people and love the baby jesus. remind me that my way isn't the only way to get things done. remind me that it's ok to call people out when they are being dumbasses and wasting my time and others. remind me, ok?

and then, i find out that the lobby job is getting ratcheted up by a LONG shot, which means more green for me, but also more research and lots more phone calling. remind me why this is a good idea. remind me that this is keeping my foot in the door for other things, and giving me great work experience and networking capabilities. remind me,ok?

geeze oh man, when did my little life get so freaking busy? this morning, i was all in the dumps about neglecting my social life, and wondering how in the hell i was going to save myself from being a hermit for the rest of my life. suddenly, that seems like a moot point.

ok, enough griping. i have phone calls to make, and media contacts to track down. i love you crazy people.

mil besos--rmg