The sweetest thing I've ever seen

Caroline & Catherine

Today I witnessed the sweetest thing I've ever seen. And the best part was I was able to immediately recognize it, and feel it and enjoy it, as the sweetest, most loving gesture anybody could ever see. It was one of those moments you just have to cross your hands across your chest over your heart and say "ahhhh."



That we ended up in church today was in itself a whole other story. I will spare you the hilarity of that for another day. Anyway, we sneaked into church late and sat in the back. We usually sit in the front, up on the right. I've been a right-hand-side-of-church-sitter my entire life. I learned last week that my brother is too. Of course. Toward the end of the service, my husband and I walked with our two little girls up to the altar rail and kneeled for communion. In our church, you kneel there at the altar and the priest comes by and gives you communion in your cupped hands, saying: "the body of Christ, the bread of heaven."

You take the body of Christ, bread of heaven, which is really a little tasteless wafer, and put it in your mouth. Then, along comes another guy (or gal) and they say something about the wine. I drink from the cup because I don't think God's going to let me get sick and die from drinking wine in a silver cup. Some people who are more squeamish dip their little bread of heaven into the cup. Now the one cool thing about Episcopal churches is that the wine is real. To me, grape juice and a cracker is just ridiculous. I'm already going out on a limb trying to think this is the body of Christ, the bread of heaven. Don't insult me with grape juice and a saltine.



The other cool thing about the Episcopal church is that kids who want to join the rest of the body of Christ by getting a little piece of the body of Christ can take communion whenever they want to take it. Second grade is not the magic age. You do not have to take a class and get a white dress, like we all did in Catholic church. Now, if the little kids are really young, and/or their parents have decided they shouldn't take the body of Christ yet, then the priest will give them a nice little blessing on their sweet little heads. Even the blessing is touching, especially if they really mean it, like our old priest Jay did.



Anyway, back to my story. As you might imagine, my little girls were not content getting a nice little blessing on their heads. They wanted to get a piece of the body of Christ and would holler as much, right up there at the altar. "Hey, why can't I have the body of Chriiiiiiisttttttt??" Caroline whined on a couple of occasions. So finally, to save myself the embarassment mostly, and also because I really didn't like the excuse that they weren't old enough to join the rest of the body of Christ in taking the body of Christ -- like second-class citizens or something, we relented and taught them how to hold their little hands out and say "Amen."



Today, things were a little off. A new, interim priest they didn't recognize was bringing the body of Christ, bread of heaven, so instead of putting her precious little hands up, cupped all cute together, Caroline just bowed her head. My guess was she did it more from shyness than anything else. The priest gave her a blessing on her sweet little head and then turned to Catherine.



Catherine, kneeling at the altar, in a very fancy dress and her curly hair pulled up in a high ponytail, held her little hands up. The priest placed the communion into her hands, saying "the body of Christ, the bread of heaven." Then, with her right hand, she picked up the bread of heaven and immediately, without a minute's delay, broke the little wafer in half and handed one piece to her sister.



Oh my gosh. My heart just melted! It was just the most loving, precious thing I had ever seen. I always hear people refer to "God moments," and this morning I most certainly experienced one. That kind of love ... it's amazing.

Hours later, it occurs to me (again) that we can learn a lot from little kids. You know, when we're not yelling at them to stop fighting or to eat their dinner or whatever else they do when they're being kids and we're being frazzled parents doing the best we can with what we have. Our job is only to be aware enough to find the lesson.

Sappy Salute to Kuhny ... Happy Father's Day

Tomorrow is Father's Day, and I couldn't think of anything better to blog about than the guy who loves me, supports me in this crazy painted groove of mine, and, most of all is my kids' father. Throughout my life, I can think of so many times I found myself standing in front of all the Father's Day cards and no card seemed to fit my particular father, or my particular husband for that matter. Then one day, I met the guy we call Kuhny, and he totally fit the bill, and the card. Buying Father's Day or anniversary cards for him is a snap.

So in lieu of a card, here's my sappy salute to my husband and the father of my girls. He certainly is a keeper.


He loves his Mama, which is always a good sign when selecting a man. I can't say I've always paid attention to such important details as family dynamics and how the father treats the mother and how the son feels about his mother. I generally used to look for things like chemistry, a nice backside, and other equally short-term attributes. But somehow this go-around, I got it right. He loves his mother, but not so much that he's a mama's boy. His father loves his mother -- you get the idea. His dad is kind, and he's kind. From the first day he met my daughter Mary, he liked her but not too much to be creepy. To this day, he still loves her through her teenager years, even though she doesn't quite know how to show him love back. She'll get it one day. I have faith.



Not only is he kind, but he is fun. The bonus is he is kind and fun, yet responsible and dependable. He likes good music, and for some reason likes me even when I look like a corpse in need of lipstick (like in this picture taken at a Ray Wylie Hubbard show). We met at a Gary Stewart concert. That says a lot, right there.


We got married in April 2001. A few years later, my doctor told me our chances of having kids the normal way were slim to none. As I bawled my head off after the doctor's appointment, trying to tell him the grim news via cell phone, he was very matter of fact: "we'll figure it out." A short year later, God helped the best doctors and nurses in the world help us create Catherine and Caroline. And that's when my husband really showed me the kind of man he is.

For him, his kids are not an imposition. He does not "babysit" his kids. When I feel the need to get away from the house and hang out with my girlfriends, he doesn't give me a minute's grief. We're in it together. It' so refreshing.

Oooh, and does he ever loves his girls! Here, he's dancing with Catherine at a Two Tons of Steel show at Gruene Hall.

And those girls love their Daddy. Here, he and Caroline walk to the car after my cousin's wedding. This is one of my favorite photos. Caroline has her Daddy's hand in one hand, and her puppy in their other.

He can light a chimenea like nobody's business. And, he humors me and loves West Texas too. He also gets attached to stuff. For example, he will not turn loose of this Bush/Cheney t-shirt from the 2004 election. I've implied it may disappear one day. "You better not even think about it," he has warned me.

He balances life with business. Throughout our entire dating and married life, he's been on this cell phone, helping people buy and refinance their dream homes. He really, seriously, cares about the mortgage business and helping his clients finance their dreams. One time back when he worked for Wells Fargo, there was a delay in closing a loan for a single, older female client. It wasn't even his fault, but I swear he actually helped move her stuff from a moving truck into a storage unit, and put her up in a hotel for the weekend. I thought he was crazy at the time. Now I can see how that kind of dedication to his clients has paid off.

He likes my crazy family and all its extensions. Here he is at The Oak, listening to a tall tale told by Jason Pence. Isn't he adorable?

Teaching Catherine to play Uno. Yes, I realize she's not wearing any clothes and it's January (the year is wrong on the date stamp). Did I mention he's understanding of idiosyncracies?

I don't know how many men are avid readers of my blog: I'd guess more of you are of the female persuasion. But just in case there's a stray male here and there, can I let you in on a secret? Being a stand-up husband and father is very attractive to a woman. It goes a long, long way toward creating a loving, happy wife who isn't resentful and bitchy. He's not some kind of wimp. He still drives me crazy and leaves his underwear in this strange little pile in one corner of the bathroom. But he also proves there are still good men out there, and men have the ability to be good men if they decide to be good men. It's a decision. And thank God he made it.

So Happy Fathers' Day Kuhny. We all are blessed to have you.

In praise of 6-hour car rides, handy husbands & wild West Texas storms

My name is Sami and I am addicted to West Texas. I have many issues. You might remember in March I developed a new cloud neurosis. Today on our way home from our 24-hour trek to West Texas and back, Ryan pulled my nose out of my magazine to point out some seriously ominous clouds.


I immediately reached for my camera, and then proceeded to get all wiggly and freakish when the pictures turned out really great. I could not wait to get home and share them with the world:

I saw the clouds above first. Check out all the variations of dark bluish gray, and that one little white puffy cloud.

The following clouds were to the left of our car. I'm saying these would be to the north ... For at least 50 to 75 miles, we drove right alongside this storm system, which kept nicely to itself on the left.

Over to the right, pretty whitish clouds and blue skies.

This exit sign shows all you other West Texas freaks right where we were. I captured this picture rolling along about 85 mph... Pretty good huh? Now you see why I was getting all wiggly and freakish.

Every so often, we had some good lightning, so the storm could show us it was serious.

Did you realize you can be a cracker-jack mortgage guy, talk on the cell phone, and drive through storms on I-10 and make your wife really, really happy with 24-hour treks to West Texas? Who says men can't multi-task? Cell service on I-10 is greatly improved! Back in the day we lost service in Kerrville.

Some people think we're nuts for going on long 6-hour trips to West Texas together, but can I let you in on a little secret? This is the only time we get to think, plan, talk and strategize about our life, our marriage, our kids and careers. The rest of the time we're just making it through the days. Moral of the story: trap yourselves in a car for six hours and see what happens.

OK so then, I turned my attention to what was going on behind the car. Dork alert! The wind was blowing pretty hard, which is normal even without a storm because this is all in the vicinity of the wind farms.

And now for the object of all my affection, and the destination for our 24-hour West Texas trek. See that hideous aluminum window to the left of the electrical boxes? Well, it's going bye-bye. We had to go out there and get good measurements for the new windows! The house is set to get its new paint job in July, and efficient husband doesn't think it will be efficient to paint the whole house and then later rip out the windows and then put up new trim and repaint the trim. He has a point, and since I got to go to West Texas, I was an enthusiastic supporter of his plan.

Notice the beautiful blue paint color Abbey Branch (the famous designer) helped me select. SW Oceanside -- I love it. To the right of the hideous brown, wood-rotted trim board, you can see the future paint color for the body of the house -- SW Crater Gray.

And while you're admiring the door, did you spy the fabulous landing/mini-deck my super-handy, hunk of a husband built a few months ago? If only I could show you the previous way you got into the house. Let's just say it involved a homemade step and a wooden pallet. Very classy.

Life is good, y'all.