You can take the girl out of the nest...

 

...but you can't take the nest out of the girl.

**EDIT:  Dear AT&T text messaging: Thanks for making my hilarious story via text message into truncated nonsense.  You're great.

Dear Readers: I've edited the story.  It should make sense now.**

Fish: I think I'll buy this shirt.
Me: It's cute, but it looks big.
F: Yeah, but all the smalls have things like I love my grandma and teddy bears and stuff.
Me: Well, don't you love your grandma?
F (emphatically): Sure, but that's not what Vegas is all about!  Unless you're talking about gambling grannies carrying teddy bears.

Heirloom

I  got a package in the mail today.

It was from my mom.  This is the only vanilla I have ever, in the history of my recollection, seen in our cupboard at home.  There is no other kind.  My Mama is no slouch at cooking, so generally, if it's good enough for her, it's good enough for me.  She's also already sent me a set of brand new pots and pans, also the kind she uses and swears by.

And I mean that literally.  If you wanted to make sure you were getting my mom's good word on something, pull our her red enamel skillet.

Like I said, she's no culinary novice, which is what made the other item in this package worth more than the shiny new pots.  Pirate's Pantry was probably the source of more of my meals growing up than any other single volume. 

These are south Louisiana family recipes, which is synonymous with "delectable".

 

It was a gift to my dad when they were courting.

 

And now it's mine.

 

This is my kind of cookbook.  This is 90% of everything good I've ever eaten.  The book itself is a memory.  The contents could be a family history.

 

Mama says you can tell which pages have the best recipes because they're covered in food stains.

This one has taken the place of a birthday cake for me for at least the last five years.

Today was a good mail day.

My Twin

He's cute.

And I miss him very much.

Sweet Ol' Dog

Mitzi, who I've just called "Sweet Ol' Dog" for the last year or so, was my Aunt's dog, eventually moved in with my grandparents for a couple years, and then in with my family in Dallas over the summer.

She is by far my favorite dog ever, ever sweet and patient and happy to see you.

After weeks of visits to the pet ER and discomfort for her, we've let her go.  As my Dad put it, she's sleeping at God's feet tonight.

Miss you, Mitz.

Lions in the Meadows*

Every summer of my life (25 summers now), I've visited my family in California, and my siblings have joined in the pilgrimage as they have gotten old enough to do so.

The journey is always dictated by habit. We do something once, we do it every summer there after; we go to the same places following the same itinerary, eat at the same places, watch the same movies. Summer vacation in California is kind of like watching the same movie over and over, and that actually is what makes it so glorious.

Each summer of the last ten or so, a side trip to Las Vegas is included, much to the glee of my littlest siblings (alright, and me -- I'm a sucker for tacky gift shops, giant Coca Cola bottles, and glittering lights).

This year, though, we inadvertently added a stop to the cycle. This happens; the movie evolves now and again. We parked on the wrong side of the MGM Grand, and so had to walk through it to get to the giant Coke bottle. Along our bee-line to green-bottle bliss, we passed MGM Grand's lion habitat, a spot I hadn't known existed. It was open, bright, and lush; lots of things for the lions to climb, waterfalls crashing dramatically-yet-gently into a little pool, quite idyllic. Two lions, a male and a female, lounged just on the other side of the inch-thick, slightly green glass, drowsy and showered in sun from the massive skylight.

All around them, pressed to every inch of the perimeter, were tourists from God knows where -- everywhere, probably -- thee people deep holding up children and cameras, standing on tip toe to get a view of the lions. The sleepy felines, meanwhile, remained totally aloof.

The female lion perched at the top of one of the water falls, gazing about occasionally but mostly vegetating with her eyes closed; beautiful. The male lion was sprawled out on top of the frosted glass that covered a walkway through the middle of the habitat, presumably to another section. Dozens of people had crammed themselves into this space, a space meant for people to pass through not linger in, to see him and take vague silhouetted pictures.

I count myself in this number, of course.


And I was fascinated. Not so much by the lion, actually, though being a mere two inches and a flaw in glass-making craftsmanship away from those paws and jaws was pretty awe-inspiring. No, I was really interested in the people who came to Las Vegas, the middle of the dessert, presumably for some gaming, some food, some shows, and perhaps some less family friendly activity, and were now captured, in rapt attention, by this massive, powerful creature (who had absolutely no use for them, by the way).

I often lament how disconnected we've become from good ol' Mother Earth. Greening industry and saving the planet are all the rage, but I don't know how many of us spend much time actually appreciating the planet we live on (sorry, Planet Earth doesn't count) or the other creatures who inhabit it. We -- humans, that is -- are God's crowning jewel, but can you imagine Adam's reaction when God showed him the first lion?

God: Here, check this guy out! You might want to give him an especially good name, I don't think he'll be too happy with you otherwise.
Adam: (squeak)

It was both amusing and heartening to see all those people so enthralled by a pair of lions. I've started to think (realize might be the better word) that God meant for us to feel connected to every other living thing on the planet, not in an Earth mother crazy kind of way, but in an awareness that we come from the same place and those other things were made for our good. It's evident, especially when we meet those creations in such unexpected places -- like lions in a meadow.


*"Las Vegas" is Spanish for "the meadows".

Peru vs. Bolivia. Grand Prize: The Devil.

I am ethnically and quasi-culturally Peruvian, and vocally proud of that. At the same time, it seems most news stories on the Mother Land I come across make me sort of cock my head and go, "Huh?" At least in this one, Bolivia is weirder than we are (at least I think so; I might be biased).

"The devil has his house and that is in Oruro [Bolivia]," Bolivian Foreign Minister David Choquehuanca, said Wednesday at a regional diplomatic meeting, where the issue came up. "One has to take care not to run into trouble with the devil."

I Am My Father's Daughter

And I could not be prouder to be so.

highlight part 2

the highlight of my spring break

12

Following their "church wedding", November 2006

Today is my parents' 12th anniversary. It's pretty dizzying to think of everything that's happened to our family in that time: two more babies, eight houses and five or six states, depending on how you count, four graduations -- two high school, one college, one basic training -- and the innumerable trials and triumphs of everyday life.

Here's to the last 12, and to many more.

11 Years Old Today

Love you, Noona Fish.

Neil Diamond and My Favorite Church Song

My dad is a huge dork. Always has been. He paid over $700 for a VCR when they first came out, and spent a good chunk of his life recording everything of even mild interest he saw on television. I think he once figured out he could watch his recorded VHSs 24 hours a day for more than a month before rewatching anything.

One of these low-fi gems is a Neil Diamond Christmas special (we also own the accompanying CD). That special, watched year after year... until he met and married my step mom, come to think of it... anyway, it included Mr. Diamond singing Morning Has Broken. Before I was quite old enough to listen to and "get" the words, I loved that song. It's melody struck me and stuck with me.

Incidently, I don't care at all for Cat Stevens's version of the song. I'm just not a folky girl.

Then, I got to Notre Dame this past summer, and one day in mass, what to my wondering ears should come wafting through the air but another song with that same tune.

Christ be beside me, Christ be before me
Christ be behind me, King of my heart
Christ be within me, Christ be below me
Christ be above me, never to part.

Christ on my right hand, Christ on my left hand
Christ all around me, shield in strife
Christ in my sleeping, Christ in my sitting
Christ in my rising, light of my life.

I now find myself humming it constantly, thinking half the time of Morning Has Broken and the other half of Christ Beside Me.

If you're thinking, "Hey, didn't you blog about another Notre Dame song you're now, like, totally in love with?" You are correct, sir. There's just a lot of reasons I love Notre Dame.

Loo Hoo

December 2008

Sibling Love

Lake Charles, LA
November 26, 2008

Swinging

Lake Charles, LA
November 26, 2008

Dallas Starts

December 26, 2008
Dallas, Texas

Kickin' It Old School

I realized I have about 7,500 pictures on my computer.

Holy. Heck.

Well, they have to go somewhere, and what else is a blog for if not a little intellectual self-indulgence?

So, I'm going to attempt to bring back the quasi-daily photo. We all know I haven't been terribly consistent lately, but I think I can handle a picture and a caption. If I miss a couple days, may my detractors enjoy puffing up with satisfaction.

Let's start at the very beginning of the addiction I've prattled on about at length this week. Below is a scan of one of the very first pictures I ever took and thought, "Hey, that's kinda cool". My brother Alex, sitting on a fence at a rest stop somewhere in... well, I'm not sure where. Probably Washington, since I know we were with our mom. This would be... 2000-ish. Yeah.

Lindsay did it...

...and I'm a sheep, so I am, too.

Last week, fellow ACEr Lindsay posted some Picasa fun on her blog. Coincidentally, I had spent some time earlier that very day doing similar projects, which I now present below.



If you're out for a simple photo managing and/or editing software, I'd strongly recommend Picasa. It's easy to use, pretty versatile, and free!

A Look Back, a Little Early

Just like last year, here's a photographic, slightly epileptic, look back at this year for me. Highlights:

• My 2nd VIDES formation camp, this time having a clue
• My 2nd semester teaching, still without a clue
• The St. Vitus Fools, our drama club, and our production of "Looking Glass Land, which was a sucess largely because no one could tell none of us had a clue.
• More nuns, all indescribably wonderful.
• Leaving the nuns, with a full heart and some tears...
• ...and arriving at Notre Dame to start ACE...
• ...where I met some of the most incredible people ever, and certainly the heaviest concentration of awesome I've encountered yet
• My second convent full of community mates, this time unconsecrated my own age
• My second year of teaching, with a little bit of a clue
• And meanwhile, my family continued to be awesome and weird

Please note: There are two people who were as important in my life this year as anyone else, and more important than most, even though I only saw them once in April for a few hours each (hence the painful dearth of pictures and sinful under representation). You know who you are. This year would not have been nearly as wonderful without your constant long-distance support, laughter, and presence. Thank you. I love you more than I know how to say.



All the pictures in the movie are available here, should you be inclined to take a more leisurely look.