Category Archives: Extended

Mi Familia

We made it home from The West a few weeks ago.  Things got busy at my Mom & Dad’s pretty quickly, and I had to stop posting.  (again)

The trip was really wonderful.

My Dad is that Dad that never really took much time off, never relaxed.  I think, in retrospect, that his idea was that he would work really hard and then, when he retired, he would have all the fun he’d put off.  In retrospect, I kind of thought "Fat Chance."

But damned if he isn’t doing it.  The family togethernessfest in Yellowstone was his idea, and his gift to us.  I had a great (albeit long) walk, that started out as a walk with Charlie & Scott & Mom & Bridget & Dane and Dad, that turned out to be a walk with Dad, 2.5 mile to a geyser that Mom wanted to see, and that we all missed actually blowing.  He told me stuff about his work, and about his retirement, and was as open and talkative and cool and wonderful as I’ve ever seen him.  Relaxation actually suits him, which, I guess, makes sense, given that he’s procrastinated it his whole life.

It was fun to see my mom, and to have Scott beat her more than once at Scrabble, which served her right for all the times she creamed me at Sorry when I was four.  She’s busy from dawn til dusk, attending to most everyone else’s needs.

My younger sister Kate is just plain kind, and a wonderful, doting Mom.  Sam and Ella have really distinct personalities, and she delights in them both.  I don’t envy her that little kid stage, but she just seems to thrive on it.  She’s married to the magnificent Dan the man, and through any ups and downs, they are a great match.  She is also very girly, and bound and determined to girl me up, as a care package full of dresses proved.  And, actually, I love them.  I do fear that the next care package might be makeup!  She invited me to go a-waxing before we hit Yellowstone, which, thankfully, having seen the results, I’m glad I declined.  Because ouch.

One of the high points was getting to know Will, Peter’s oldest, who, by now is five.  It was hard to get a good photo of him because HE DOES NOT STOP, but he let us take him out to dinner without his Mom and Dad, and he did come knocking on our door a couple of mornings, quite early.  Peter is raising him to be a phenomenal fisherman, and, of course, the one time my camera caught him still, he was fishing.   Speaking of Peter, I am blessed with a really terrific sister-in-law in Bridget.  She is as down to earth and straightforward a person as you could ever meet, and she is really great with her kids, and, totally due to her patience, Willy will eventually be able to be still long enough to have his photo taken.

Kenny, the little one, has the dryest and pointiest wit.  He’s fun to be around, and I won’t flash the picture of him in his long johns in reaction to his telling Kate that he thought they were the only two with fashion sense in our family.  Unless, of course, you want to look at my flickr page.  I’m worried, because he wants to go into the military, and I hate the military, and the war, and war in general.  And the military.  I wish he’d go to law school instead, but I guess a lot of people hate lawyers too. 

We stayed, in Yellowstone, near Old Faithful, and millions of geysers.  There was one that only blew in the middle of the night, and Charlie really wanted me to get up at 1 to see it go.  But I didn’t.  There was fishing.  Scott and Charlie went in a couple of rivers, and then we went up and met Peter and Dan and Bridget and the boys at a lake.

There were buffalo (a word Ella picked up on day one) all over, including in our camping area, and Charlie was fascinated with the marmot around.  Okay.  So was I.

Yellowstone did not explode while we were there, and for this, I was thankful.

Pete brought a grill and did much cooking for all of us.

Dad wore a cap and smoked a cigar which, with his beard made him look like Castro.

And it was all over too soon.

Coming Home to Roost

Every once in a while, someone has just the child they deserve.

When Kate was little, maybe two or three, I remember scolding her for something (as I was the older sister, and  knew all the rules).  Her reply: "That’s just the way I live my life."  It’s funny how people are who they are who they are who they are.  Were I to pick an epitaph for her, that would be it.

Miss Ella Bella Portabella seems to be cut from the same cloth.  Darling, and in charge.

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It appears to be impossible to take a bad picture of Ella.

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Like her brother, and, incidentally, her mother, Ella’s language skills appear unstoppable and advanced for her (15 month) age.  By the time we left on Monday, she was saying "Amy", "Scott", and "Charlie" appropriately, and with ease.

Scott and I went by yesterday morning to help Kate with some last minute errands (on accounta she now has zero hands).  When we got there, Ella was at the top of the stairs, and I helped Kate get her other foot into her pjs, and zipped her up while she squirmed into and out of Kate’s lap.  When we came down the stairs she bounced over and said "HI Scott!" before plopping herself into her car seat.

It’s just the way she lives her life.

Boys

Sam and Charlie share a sense of humor.  They played for quite some time, at sword fighting.

And decapitation:

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Friends and Relations

The hardest thing about being so far away from my family is missing the day to day growing of the new human beings.  Since my last visit, both my sister and brother have grown whole new human beings.

I talk to Kate frequently, which means I get to talk to Sam frequently.  On Monday we went by Kate’s to see Sam, and meet Ella.  Kate was away having carpal tunnel surgery when we got there, and Dad was babysitting for her. 

When we first got there Sam was a little shy, Ella, not so much.  Finally I asked Sam if he knew who I was, and he shook his head no.  When I told him I was his Aunt Amy, his entire face lit up, and he said "I know you.  You’re my friend."

Then he reached into my chest, pulled out my still-beating heart, and stuck it in his pocket.

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The Long and Winding Road

The most amazing thing about our trip so far is that we left on time.  I ended up driving through the night which earned me a lecture from my mother.  But it really happened quite logically.

When we got to Toledo, it was only 10:30, and I wasn’t really tired, and figured that I could make Saturday’s 17 hour day a little bit shorter by heading on to Elkhart.  But Elkhart was closer than I’d thought, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s waking up in Indiana, so I pushed through to Chicago, to avoid driving through the horrible Chicago daytime traffic.

And then, of course, we aren’t going to pay Chicago prices for a hotel room, and, by the time we’re through Chicago, well, you might as well just drive through.

My mother’s lecture is impervious to the logic of this.

The sun came up over the Wisconsin Dells, and we were into my favorite part of the trip, where it gets a little earlier every couple of hours, and the landscape is always changing twisting morphing into something bigger than you are, something that makes you wish you could see the history of time in its proper perspective, and that if you could, you would know the meaning of life.  This is what South Dakota does to me, always.

Scott told us the things he knows about how the landscape is formed, and the Indians that lived there before we got there, and we wondered about the travellers from the east, seeing that landscape for the first time, and the people who were already there when they got there.

On Saturday evening we’d finally had it, and couldn’t make it on to Billings, like we’d hoped, and we stopped in Sheridan Wyoming.  Television in Wyoming is better than television in Delaware, because it includes a whole channel of guys riding the bucking broncos and television is always better if there is a chance, however remote, that someone might die.  There was one guy that got kicked in the head by a bull, and they showed that clip over and over.  Which would make football better, I think, if there were more replays of guys getting kicked in the head by bulls.  And the rodeo guys, they aren’t wusses like football players, because instead of helmets, they wear cowboy hats, which provide zero protection from getting kicked in the head by bulls.

Sunday we drove to my Mom and Dad’s, and even though it was a five hour drive, it seemed quite easy, in comparison.

I’m an Aunt Again

Seriously, how cute is this kid?

Dane

Welcome to Earth, baby boy.