Too Many Books

Maybe I should just commit to blogging once a month... er, hello again! (Let me catch you up on things.) Stella has now visited her third state... Ohio! In May, we attended a graduation lunch, so we had to get fancy. I'm ever so slightly proud of the following photos. It took us about four hours to get home from Ohio... because someone I married decided not to realize when he missed the exit and overshot our route by about thirty miles and also did not notice a large sign which said "Welcome to Indiana." Someone else was in the passenger seat playing with her iPhone. Also, on May 26th... this happened: It's hard to be too upset, considering that our bedroom is to the left of all that. It was so weird though... we didn't hear it fall. It happened on one of those horrid storm nights, but after the worst of it came through. $300 later, I'm thankful that my house is still standing, but I do miss the shade when I'm out of the back porch roasting in this J...

I would really hate it if my sister felt a little left out because I sang the praises of her husband in yesterday's post. I mean, I would seriously feel really bad about that. And, since she seemed to so enjoy my TMI Thursday last week, I thought, what better way to reward her interest in her older sister than by featuring her in this week's edition? This one's for you, sis. To know my sister is to know a walking contradiction. As a child, she was loud. I mean, we are talking about a voice that carried and projected in a way that would make a stage actor jealous. This voice, coupled with a serious lack of tact, meant that we knew better than to tell her anything secret, for fear that she would leak the information, and loudly, at the most inopportune of times. However, she could also be extremely and completely quiet; as a toddler, she once stayed silently hidden behind my grandmother's couch for I don't know how long, while the whole family...

How awesom e is my brother-in-law? In response to my post about feeling "overexposed" on Thanksgiving, he left this gem for me: Amber's Bro-in-Law said... Let me first start off by saying that I do enjoy reading Amber's blogs, but not with the intent that most family members have. You see, Amber and I... We just get each other; maybe it's that we both understand living with her sister (my wife), or something else, but we get along well. I think that she is a brilliant writer who speaks from the heart no matter what the topic is. I also really enjoy the strikeouts! So whether she is writing for personal reasons, emotional reasons, or because she sees it as a place to vent, that is not for me to judge... No permanent lurkers here... I prefer the term - follower :) To Amber: Feel free to write away, because whether this is a secret or not, I'll read with a zipped lip and will always look forward to TMI Thursdays :) By the way... if you need h...

Did anyone else have their holiday weekend interrupted with work today? The tyrptophan has not even worn of yet, and I'm back at the bank. Clearly, it is the slowest day of the year, as the Black Friday shoppers have no money left to deposit, and the sane folk are warm at home, eating turkey omelets and watching football. (Louisville's game starts at 11:00 this morning, in order for us to share our losing season with a national audience on ESPN 2. Suffice it to say, it wasn't too much of a sacrifice to come to work rather than attending the last home game of the season. It's like fourty degrees outside, so the weather is even less desirable than the dismal number in the Cardinal-win-column.) In other news, I learned a lesson yesterday. If one wants to keep her blog semi-separate from her "real" life, mentioning said blog in a facebook status update is really not the way to go... especially on or near a Thursday, in my case. Last night, my brother-in-law ...

Happy 85th birthday (one day late) to my Mammaw, who is the most beautiful person on the earth. I hope I grow up to be half the woman you are. I love you for your strength, your wisdom, the way you laugh, and for unplugging appliances during thunderstorms. I love the way you pronounce Hawaii (Huh-why-yuh) and Hello (Mellow). I love your sense of humor and your generousity.I love you.

Last month, I stopped taking my birth control pill. No, it wasn't because I've already started to design a nursery in my mind, plotting color schemes and stocking up on diapers and onesies and burp cloths. It isn't because I'm ready to get pregnant. I am required to order my contraseptives in three month supply, and I ran out. This has happened a few times before. Normally, my husband just grumbles a little and then makes a trip out for condoms. This time, he said, "I really don't feel like getting condoms. Wanna just see what happens?" I concurred. It isn't because I'm ready to get pregnant. (I'm aware that I already said that.) You see, I always wanted kids. I started babysitting when I was eleven, for a family that grew to four little girls. I wanted to have four little girls of my own, and wanted to name them Emma, Claire, Alexis, and Nora. I vaguely remember this dream. It was a dream shattered by adult life choices, the ones that ...

Over the weekend, some outdoorsy men in orange vests repaved and restriped the bank parking lot.  When I got to work this morning, yellow caution tape sealed off both the entrance and exit to the bank lot, leaving it to resemble a crime scene. I secretly hoped that there had been a body found in the ATM lane or something, and that I might be able to go back home since I wasn't a witness. I think I've been watching too much Dexter lately.  Alas, Thankfully, the only reason for the caution tape was the new Purdue-colored parking lot, which looks lovely but smells like burnt rubber . The odor reminds me of my childhood: I am riding with my grandfather through the twisting back roads of rural Indiana, headed back to Bloomington or maybe Bedford from Carmichael Cemetary, where my lineage lay. I need to tinkle and have no choice but to make in the cornfields. My Papaw pulls over. As I step out of the Cadillac, my mary janes go squish in the not-yet-harden...