The best gifts cannot be bought or paid for....

i read something a while back on someone else's blog about happiest childhood memories. i find this is often the case here in the blogosphere. childhood memories. it's a fantastic place to purge. a vast group confession...but it's wonderful and awe inspiring. i am constantly taken by the wit, humor and honesty of Heather and the intelligent, courageous candor of jane.look at what postsecret has sparked. i can only imagine what
ask ro is like from the receiving end. but i digress. let me tell you of a remarkable gift my sister made for me.

some christmas' back, i was helping her carry in her parcels. one part 'glad to see you', one part 'glad to step out of mom's overcrowded sweltering house for some fresh air '. she turns to me with this funny look and says "this is a special gift for you", and hands me a jar of handmade candy.


"oh, sweet! thanks", i say and turn to the house.
she grabs my arm and says, "no, it's really special. i want you to open it now".
okay, whatever....my sister has a certain flair about her and she IS my big sister so i'm rather used to following her lead.



"open the red one first. in fact, just open the red one and save the rest for rainy days", she adds.

okay, what-ever you wierdo, i'm thinking but then as i open the jar and reach in to grab it, i realize they aren't candies. oh no....much much sweeter than any ole candy. it was a little note wrapped in foil. the first one was my sisters first memory of me; the memory of her sitting on the neighbors porch, waiting for me to come home from the hospital.

there aren't words for how that felt or continues to feel when i open one of those special little treats. i was speechless just then and all i could do was hug her and cry. she told me she could have filled several jars with her favorite childhood memories with me. like what? like everything. my big sister remembers EVERYTHING.



"i remember at my ninth birthday party you were dressed up like a little mexican, with a sombrero and big bushy mustache"



"remember how you use to climb into my bed at night....and then kick me out?"



"....buckets full of bullfrogs..."
"...first grunion run..."
"...climbing into my playpen to play with me"
"...8-track in the yellow honda..."

"you made a stunning bridesmaid"

a few of them are just single words that only make sense to me and are so powerful, they will bring on mad peels of laughter if whispered in my ear (oh, especially at family gatherings). ya know what else? i haven't opened them all yet. i save them for those rainy days. there are only a few left on the bottom that haven't been touched.



there are, no doubt, many horrific things i can say about my youth but like a character in a king novel, they were many other glorious crazy fun kid things as well....and ya know what? i wasn't alone. thank god. i had a ....a friend....a playmate, confidant....a witness...a SISTER!

cautionary tale of boys

I'm having extra coffee this morning....why? Well, let me tell you a little cautionary tale about boys. Our little beach house has a floor furnace for heat. As much as I drill these guys on the merits of doing-as-your-told and the dangers of THROWING SHIT DOWN THE REGISTER, sometimes I skip the nightly check to make sure there isn't some primary colored plastic waiting to get torched. Last night was one of those nights so right around 2am, I sit straight up in bed because I smell the all too familiar smell in the house. I open the door to find the house full of smoke and as I make my way down the hall the smoke alarm sets off and wakes everyone up....can I tell you how disgusting the smell of melted burning plastic is? I don't know how all those children in the chinese factories stand it. So I grab the flashlight, turn off the heat and peer down to see a bubbling mass of plastic. Sweet. I know immediately what it is. It's part of a infant nail care kit I let the boys play with yesterday after I removed the hazardous bits because they are fond of the little magnifying glass on it. But the kicker is as I'm about to scrap it off I see the company name written across the handle is still quite legible. It reads "safety first". Unfortunately, the words didn't stay past the removal because that would have been a much better photo.

Last month we had a funeral for a little plastic pirate that perished in a separate incident.

Boys. It's karma coming to kick my ass, I tell you!

there outta be a law??

Okay, get this....my friend is out with her baby, doing a little grocery shopping. There is a woman collecting signatures for a petition at the entrance. It happens more often than not here in So Cal. Anyway, as she approaches, the woman says to her, "would you be interested in signing a petition to keep marriage between a man and a woman?"

my friend is a lawyer and therefore not of few words, although i think her girlfriend is by far the vocal one of the set. she tells her, in short, that she and her female partner that are raising
the little girl would have nothing to do with it. her assumption she was straight was misguided. the woman then tells her that her's is "not a family in the eyes of God".

i would imagine at that point, my dear friend turned deep red, smoke started to come out of her ears and she had to walk away out of sheer survival (the womans, not hers). afterall, she did have her infant daughter with her. she's standing in the middle of the supermarket when i get the call. she's shaken...she's furious...she's at a loss for words and i'm doing my best to calm her.

what came to mind next was nothing short of divine intervention. this is what i suggested....

go to the greeting card section. find a sympathy card...the cheesiest, sappiest, a religious one perhaps. and sign it "Jesus weeps for you"

she laughed...the mood lightened....but ya know what? damn if she didn't do exactly that. although she did say she was only willing to pay 99 cents for the card. when she handed it to the woman, she told her she hopes that someday she finds it in her heart to know everyone is worthy of love and respect.

later that night she and her girlfriend were going to a black tie HRC event. i'm sure it made for good story telling....

my friend....she made me proud!

3 year old boys

i'm the mother of three year old twin boys today. while that might seem like nothing to some of you with a half a dozen children, for me it is quite the achievement. perhaps the most incredible thing i can say about myself. pshaw! you say...there are bigger deals in this world. and to that, i say, what can be more astounding and awesome than watching the future unfold before you?

the long haul

tone – (TOHN) noun, verb 1. a particular quality, way of sounding, modulation, or intonation of the voice as expressive of some meaning, feeling, spirit….

Meaning…feeling…spirit. So when you tell me that you miss me in the most delicate of ways and frankly say “what are we going to do about it”, I hear a tone that is similar to discussing the mundane issues of every day life. Not exactly bowling me over with romance, I say. well, unless the tone was different. If you said that very same thing as you pressed your body against mine and voiced it in breathless yearning. Then…THEN I would be compelled to answer.

When in conversation I misunderstand in a way that makes you repeat yourself it is not that I don’t know how you feel about the situation. It is the tone in which it is thrust at me that I find hurtful. just as it did when I came upstairs with an armful of laundry. was I the problem? i beg you to separate the tone of the situation and the tone in which you speak to me…. Words carry great power and it is the force in which they are wielded that cause the most harm…or healing.

I miss you in the most delicate of ways. What is the tone? Hard to say with the written word. I would say it is almost melancholy…it is somehow a memory of what was…a feeling I want so much to have again in real time rather than what I conjure in the still moments when I remember what it was like to lay with you. I busy myself with our daily life but I quietly yearn for what bound me to your heart. What is that for me? What is the meaning…feeling…spirit. I leave it to Jane Siberry to give you the tone…..

I love you





Sweet Incarnadine
-Jane Siberry

and when he came i fell into his deepest eyes
and begged the difference between love and open...

come on give your love to me
the first time i leaned over you and looked into your eyes
i said to myself this is what it must be like
to have everything you'd ever want
and a voice inside my head said...GO...I AM...

i give you everything
Kaikobad, Kaliere, Pehlevi and in-between
sweet sweet incarnadine
sweet sweet sweet incarnadine
come on let your love rain down on me again
when you said that it would feel like this
the love potion
the razor's edge
the open sesame of the kiss
i swear it was all i felt
i swear it was all i heard
and then we began to pray
bless this union, make us whole,
give me strength to let him go,
give us fire and give us flow
to always love like this

the never idle pressing
silent confessing
the endless versions of the lonely heart

when we love like we love
and we want like we want
and then we cry like a child
never like this
never like this
never like this


and when he came i fell into his deepest eyes
and begged the difference between love and open...

what lies beneath

“The stars are beautiful, because of a flower that cannot be seen.”
I replied, “Yes, that is so,” and without saying anything more I looked across the ridges of sand that were stretched out before us in the moonlight.
“The desert is beautiful,” the little prince added, and that was true. I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing, yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams…..
“What makes the desert beautiful,” said the little prince, “is that somewhere it hides a well….”

-the little prince