Poor sheep, poor Piper, poor me ...

A look is worth a thousand words. What do I even need to say about this picture? Except that my niece is adorable. And her mother, the photographer, is a genius, or at least really really lucky to have captured this shot.

To answer the obvious: My niece is standing beside an oddly sheared sheep because (insert drum roll, please) ..... The mutton-bustin' is coming up at the Guadalupe County Fair & Rodeo, of course! And Piper and all her cousins are entered. Come on, really, it would be embarassing if they they took off out of the gate in their helmets and flak jackets, looking like little PBR bull riders, and fell off in two seconds. They need to make a decent showing. There's money or scholarships or maybe a savings bond at stake. Not to mention family pride. You can tell how well I have paid attention to the details, eh? Could this be any more redneck?

To get ready, Paw-Paw had to buy a sheep so they all could practice. I know, this really isn't what I had in mind for my precious, girly daughters. So I let loose a trial balloon to guage interest and they were totally excited. It stressed me out in more ways than one. I'll just leave it at that.

Laboring with love and lavender ...

I know I'm crazy, but I love long weekends like this, especially when we have family in and I spend the entire day cooking and cleaning up. It's so fun, and I'm not being facetious. Right now, The guys went to get a haircut, and somehow, my sister-in-law ended up taking three kids under five to Wal-Mart with her. She had volunteered to take her own, my nephew Pius, but then Catherine asked every so sweetly if she could go. When Caroline found out Pius was going, she could not be left alone...

And so I had to conjole a teenager to go with her just to help. Thank God Mar threw herself on the sword. And so here I am blogging, in silence. Carne guisada simmering on the stove. Beans in the crockpot. Mom on her way to help me hold it all together.

Yesterday, in preparation for the guests, we decided Bambi needed a spa treatment (aka bath). Don't say anything, but she was starting to stink.




Around here, we don't mess around. When someone needs a bath, we only use Hummingbird Farms Aromatherapy Lavender Body Wash No. 152, from Hummingbird Farms, of course, which you can find here. Maybe you've heard of it. :)

Really, we all love giving Bambi a bath, because then she smells so clean and fresh. But to be honest, she really isn't into it until she's all clean and fresh and wrapped up in a towel. See, here she's still looking pretty miserable. But Caroline and Caroline are thrilled with the progress. Also of note: See how their faces are so perfectly lit up, as in a studio, like I planned it. No, that's just the miracle of the sun coming through the window at exactly the right time.

Here, Caroline models the only bath care line our family will endorse.

Awaiting her air fluff, Bambi still resembles a drowned rat. But she's looking more perky.

And finally, she spent the rest of the day, lolling about ... all peaced out and smelling of lavender.

5 Things I Love Today

Ok I know today is Sunday, but this is a list of what really blows my skirt up:

1. Being organized, getting organized. Neatness. That's why I have been such a crazed maniac for the past week. There has been no neatness. I live with four other people who apparently are not interested in the same things as me. And my favorite person on earth just went her own way to find another job. sniff, sniff. Pass me a tissue.

2. Getting stuff done ... GSD. Nothing makes me happier than a lightbulb being put in the light in the pantry.

3. When my honey-do list becomes a priority. This is just plain sexy.

4. The disappearance of clutter. Over accessorization has begun to make me nuts. It is just so unnecessary if it doesn't mean anything to you. If it's something important from an interesting trip or makes your soul happy when you walk by it, great! If not, if it's just filling the space above your cabinets, it's going to make me insane.

5. The thought that tomorrow, Monday, August 24th, will find ALL my children locked safely away in school for the rest of the year. And while they're gone, I can continue to GSD ...

A death grip on my basket

I said when MY kids started kindergarten I wouldn't freak out. Weepy mothers are so cliche'. I dropped my basket when they turned one, but only because I realized I had been a zombie for an entire year. It was all about me, not related to the fact that they were getting older and growing up too fast. Since then, they keep getting older, and I've only had a few scattered times when I was creeping toward a basket-dropping wipeout. Luckily, I've been able to recognize it and head it off at the pass by spending some reflective time alone, out of the fray that is our normal, everyday world.

We went to West Texas. We know the way, and we can enjoy mostly free accommodations. It was the natural choice. And, there's always more to see.

Last week, I took some time with one of my bestest friends ever, the one who gave me the verbage "dropped my basket" in the first place, and my other favorite person in the world, my oldest daughter. (Hint: everybody is my favorite. If I'm talking to you, you're my favorite. Each one of my daughters is the most beautiful girl in the world, depending on who's in my lap). Anyway, we took the plunge to take some time away, at the most inopportune time, and with not a lot of funds to fund the time. The intention was to take some time away, spend some time together, see something new, and restore our creative energy. I have therefore not dropped my basket ... yet.

My oldest daughter, who is 14, actually had a good time with a couple of old broads who can be pretty silly and who really like to share their wisdom, according to us, such that it is. She did not jump out of the car, she saw some new things, she did not complain, and she actually started reading a book. Mission accomplished!

My daughter is the master of self-portraits. Notice: she's smiling!

I realized that the funny thing about time is: you have to take it. Steal it. Be really really greedy with it. You'll never get it back. It will never be a better time.

We went to two baseball games. Go Big Bend Cowboys!

Then, it was back to the real world. A world in which my husband works in the mortgage indusry and my painted groove is dependent upon construction and remodeling and extravagant purchases. These are challenging times. But seriously all you can do is get up everyday and go do what it is that you do really well and be fair to people. So far that been a very effective policy. The days go by and all is basically well. It also could be so much worse.

So the moral of the story is, despite all of this, I have a whacky sense of peace. All the trials and tribulations make my sweet little babies going to school (and our nanny who I love like one of my own going her own way, too), seem manageable. A stressful distraction. Diversion? I have faith it's all good. Apparently, this is what faith is all about. It's easy to have faith when life is gravy.

You won't find any gravy around here, but we have lots of love and faith. Oh my gosh, but there's so much freedom in that -- if you can get past the fact that current circumstances are kind of scary and not real luxurious. So I'm smiling, teeth-gritted, with a death grip on my basket.

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.

Passion & Photography: Delary Harborth

It can't all be about paint. Sometimes other media captures my fancy and I just have to share it with you. So today's subject is photography.


This particular story began a few years ago when my youngest brother, Shay, introduced us one Christmas Eve to an interesting and beautiful young woman named DJ. She was really hip and cool and played Pink songs for my daughter and nieces when they were still young and impressionable (now we learn things from them). My daughter Mary connected with her right away, so much so that she told me that if I was to die suddenly that she'd want to go live with CJ and Shay. I could understand that because DJ is full of that mother-hen nervous energy that Mary would recognize and feel comfortable with.

DJ has an intense amount of energy all bundled up in her body, so much so that when I am around her I feel that my hair is blowing back like I'm in a wind tunnel. Anyone who out-nervouses me is a force to be contended with, I say. I just love her and am so happy that she is realizing her dream, just like I am.

Getting back to the story, as you might imagine, she and my brother fell in love and got married. And all along the way through these last six or so years (maybe more), she has been transforming herself into an amazing photographer. You all know how dedicated I am to transformation, so that's why I decided I had to share her with you. First I must disclose I don't know much about photography. I only know it's good when I see it. But I am an expert in passion and big hearts and genuineness and that's what I think Delary (her real name) instills in every photograph. She's amazing, simply because she is seriously and genuinely interested in discovering the truth and beauty in every person.


She took this photo one day of some girl named Mary. Oh yeah... she's my daughter, looking a little disturbingly mature.




As a mother, I like this one a little more.

This was our Christmas picture for 2008. What's amazing here is how relaxed my girls are. Every personality is captured. The blonde one on the right is historically difficult and uncooperative at picture time. But look at her. Somehow DJ brought out Miss Personality.



In the picture below, DJ photographed Lizeth at my request, according to my ulterior motives. I think Lizeth is the most beautiful person. She is so loving and kind and peaceful, all qualities I admire immensely because I don't consider myself loving and kind and peaceful. Lizeth has cared for my girls for four years now, as if they were her own, without ever making me feel like less than a mother.




I wanted DJ to take Lizeth's picture so I could show Lizeth how beautiful she is. Somehow Lizeth didn't get the memo that she's beautiful. And this was my way of showing her how wrong she has been all these years.

DJ also captures ordinary, everyday occurrences because she's obsessed with photography, just like I'm obsessed with paint. She brings her fancy schmancy camera to every family get-together. And we are all so fortunate because of it. I will treasure these pictures forever. In the picture below, my two girls and my little niece Piper were swinging in their Paw Paw's porch swing.




They were captured, at that moment, so honest and happy. And so content to just be swinging, together.





This picture makes me all teary eyed now. Just imagine how I'll feel about this picture when Caroline is grown up and Paw Paw and his crazy place in the country are just memories. This photograph froze in time, what had been a whole lot of crazy, energetic motion. Caroline had been running up that little dirt pile and down, over and over, like a horse, because she pretends she's Spirit. She stopped, for just this moment, when DJ got her attention. And her four-year-old little self will never be just this way ever again. Lucky for me, I'll always have this picture.


DJ also is a big music fan, and her work reflects that love:






This couple is having such fun. Can't you just see it in their body language?

Dont' know the band, but I like the drummer...

Sometimes photographers capture personalities, when their mothers are hoping for more traditional shots. Often, I think these kinds of pictures turn out to be the best.

Diamondbacks or Decor ... take your pick

Last week I could barely contain myself because we had plans to visit friends who live on a ranch in the center of Texas and take the kids to the Diamondback Jubilee in Lometa. I realize generally rattlesnakes and jubilees don't really go together, not nearly as well as rattlesnakes and shotguns. Just know visiting the Joneses makes anything fun. And, to be truthful, seeing all those snakes rounded up and in big wooden boxes is kind of exciting. Besides, the fewer rattlers rattling around ready to bite my kids is a good endeavor I can support.


Besides just being blessed to be in the company of the Joneses for an entire weekend, we got to see their beautiful new house. I knew it would be neat, because Maggy is a really interesting person with a lot of style, but I wasn't expecting it to be this nice, or daring.



This is the formal living room that you see when you come in the front entryway. The formal dining area is to the right. There are a few touches still to be completed, such as logs in the fireplace, and maybe a nice rug.

I especially like the detail on the marble flooring. Some details are not quite complete, such as the gas logs for the fireplace, and a rug. My friend has so carefully put her home together and just to have it finished to this extent with three kids and her responsibilities on the ranch and for their businesses ... I don't know how she does it. When I asked about a table I especially liked in the more informal living room near the kitchen, Maggy replied, "oh, I found that in a barn," and then explained their home is just a big collection of pieces they've gotten from family and here and there through the years. Did I mention she's gracious and lovely, and not at all pretentious? She really does remind me of several lovely ranch women who retained all their gracious womanly charms. It's true that you can come from the country and not be a hayseed.


Here's another look at the formal living area. I especially liked the gray risers on the stairs.


A closeup of the flooring in the formal living area. No wonder this house took 21 months to build.


Maggy has one daughter, Marla. Her room is painted a dark, dusty pink. It actually looks more Pepto in this picture than it does in real life.

I wonder if Marla puts her bed back together this nicely every morning before school...? My guess is not. If my daughter had that many pillows I would be sure to break a hip tripping over them, on the floor, in her room.

This window seat was a nice touch. I loved how the trim is this dark putty gray, almost mushroom, color throughout. In this picture, you can just barely see the crown moulding as well. The color combination actually matures the pink. Had the trim been white ... the effect would have been so much more cutesy.

What's so awful is these are not even my most favorite parts of their home. My little impish angels snagged my camera and took picture after picture of themselves, their nostrils, the kids playing upstairs, everything -- and wore down the battery in my camera before I realized what was happening. So I guess now I'll have to invite myself back just so I can take more pictures.

As a sneak peek, however, let me just tell you this: the guest bath had the most interesting, almost tangerine- and cantaloupe-colored onyx tile as a vanity backsplash and inlaid in the travertine floor and shower surround. I had never seen anything in that color range and I fell in love with it. The walls were a cantaloupe color. It was awesome. Sounds odd and interesting, but trust me it was beautiful and peaceful, and very subdued in a colorful way.

Then, in her kitchen, she had this beautiful granite in a brown and cream combination atop cream-colored cabinetry that was very lightly antiqued. And the whole house was trimmed out with above-average crown moulding and baseboards. Maggy totally paid attention to the details. All the beds had great linens and exceptional pillows. It's a wonder they got rid of me on Sunday!


OK, now that I've told you all that about design & decorating, etc., back to the Diamondback Jubilee, which actually just celebrated its 39th year. Yes, for 39 years they've been rounding up rattlesnakes around Lometa. And apparently they need to given all the snake stories I heard over lunch. This year's Jubilee was miserable: Saturday morning it was about 40 degrees and the wind was blowing about 30 mph. See? Look at Maggy's hair. She's holding my daughter Caroline for warmth. Caroline isn't even looking at the rattlesnakes because she's too cold!

Even Mary can't give me a glamour girl pose. Also, we live in Texas and are generally unprepared for coldness.

Here's Catherine looking down into a big box of snakes. Her hair is a fright as well. Her jacket is also inadequate.

And these are the snakes. See, these Jubilee people are really doing a good deed, getting these snakes off the streets, or the pasture, whatever. Apparently they milk them for their venom and then also get their skins and their meat. Blek. They say they didn't have an exceptional roundup this year because it got so warm so early in the spring and the snakes left their dens before the snake finders (or whatever they're called) could get there to catch them. That means more of them are out there, just slithering around.... sssssss .......

In praise of Wisteria & shopping online

I love shopping online. It's 10:30 and I just made a major dent in my Christmas list. Times must be hard. It's a little more than a week before Christmas and the sales are incredible. You must go check out http://www.wisteria.com/. Their holiday clearance sale is amazing. And I didn't even come close to buying all the things I wanted. Here's a peak at what I couldn't pass up:

First I fell in love with these charming little ornaments, handmade with antique silver beads. I wanted them for myself, but since this is the season for giving, I refrained. I also think they would be beautiful stitched to a stocking.

Earlier in the week I wondered what to get our godchild, Kyra, for Christmas. What could I get her that would have a lasting impact and not just clutter up her house (like mine)? An ornament seemed a thoughtful, yet easy gift. Since she's only one year old, by the time she leaves the nest she'll have a nice start on her very own tree. Fabulous. I could start a tradition and ease the pain of thinking up an idea for the next 20 years. These days I am all about streamlining.

Then I had a brainstorm: why not start and carry out this same tradition with my nieces! And then what about my daughters? I can't leave them out in the cold. My two nephews are on their own. One day they'll have wives and you know how women are. I can just hear it: "Some old aunt is going to tell me what ornaments to put on my tree....." I'll spare them the drama.

Anyway, that's how much of my Christmas list was conquered in about 30 minutes. Starting this year, I plan to get each kiddo something fun, like the Hannah Montana wig I got Aschlen last year. She clutched it to her chest and with all the emotion of an Academy Award winning actress, almost whispered, "I needed this." Obviously I was filled with joy because I had nailed the perfect gift.

The kids won't care about the ornaments, or understand their significance, at least not now. But after their mothers do a good job raising them, hopefully one day they will appreciate my crazy aunt Christmas legacy. I think I am getting old and nostalgic.

Originally I thought I would get a range of ornaments because there were so many beautiful contenders on sale. These beautiful glass ornaments in green were in my shopping cart for a while:

Although they are stunning, the lightbulb went off that everyone should get the same ornaments. That way, when I'm long gone, having worn out my broken down earthly body, there will be similarities among all my girls' trees. One Christmas, many years from now, won't it be cool when my niece Aschlen passes by little Piper's tree and remembers "the year crazy old Aunt Sami gave us these ornaments?" That will make me very very happy from my afterworld perch.

Having snatched up at least 8 sets of four ornaments for just $7.60 a set, (what a bargain!!!!), I couldn't pass up this handy contraption designed to contain all those Christmas cards currently in a pile on our buffet. Several lucky families are getting this:

At $14.50, and 41 inches tall, I think this Christmas card holder is amazing. Can you tell none of my family members read this blog? I'm giving away all my secrets.

And check out this wreath! At $14.50, I mean who could pass this up? It's made from birch wood. I must say, however, that this bow is ghastly. What the heck?

I don't know who is getting this wreath. I decided to buy it for that "just-in-case-I-forgot-someone" present and if that never comes up, I can keep it for myself.

Peace & Love all over the place

There was peace and love just coming out our ears. Seriously. Yesterday, Thanksgiving, was a wonderful day. It could have gone horribly wrong, but it didn't. I was really happy.

First of all, I don't care how old you are, divorce in a family is going to screw things up. I'm sure there are some parents that need to be gotten rid of, but in my case, it's been terribly inconvenient for me and my siblings. Divorce fractures relationships, divides families at holidays, and otherwise just leaves somebody out in the cold, no matter what. Except for yesterday when our humble gathering included the following:

My biological mother. My biological father. My stepfather I call Dad. My sister from my Mom and Dad (Stepdad) who was adopted and is a Sioux Indian. Three half brothers, two of their wives and one new girlfriend (Miss Alaska). Two nieces from my brother's first marriage. Two nieces whose parents are still married and one cute little three-year-old nephew who was driving his harried mother crazy. We couldn't understand why, he seemed perfectly normal to us.

Then my husband, who was raised in a very normal, All-American home with two married parents had his Mom and Dad here, plus his 90-year-old grandmother, and a his uncle Wayne, who is blind. Oh, and then there were our kids: Mary, from my first marriage, and Catherine and Caroline from my current and last marriage.

While all this was going on I was texting with my former husband's current wife who I went to high school with about Mary going to visit them and the arrangements for that since he is very ill and not doing well at all. I had to keep making stops in between to say a prayer for the poor guy. We have a lot to be thankful for this year, starting with that he's even alive. We also have to be thankful for the fact that if the two of us were talking and texting, it's proof that God is alive and at work in our big old extended dysfunctional family.

So today my other brother Clay came to see Dad, who's visiting from Arizona, and brought his precious one-year-old little boy named Pius, and his other son, who is actually from his wife Heidi's first marriage. Does anyone have a headache?

Amazingly, everybody got along just fine. A good time was had by all. The best thing about it all is that all my parents were in the same place at the same time for the first time since our wedding. And I didn't feel stretched or fractured. I wasn't even stressed. What a blessing.

It's official: I am crazy

I told my husband today I couldn't decide what I wanted to do. Part of me wanted to have a big Thanksgiving dinner and invite all our mish-mash of family from all sides. It's so fun, and welcoming and fills us with peace and love.

Another part of me said that was crazy and we have no business inviting everyone over here for Thanksgiving: We should just go to someone else's house. Then, when we're sick of all the dysfunction and peace and love, we can just go home to our own dysfunction, peace and love.

And then there was another part of me that said I don't even want to be anywhere around so let's flee for the hills like we did last year. Last Thanksgiving was magical. We fled to West Texas and IT SNOWED!

So this year when I dared to bring it up, my darling husband declared I must be suffering from multiple personality disorder, or something. Later this afternoon we caved and decided to throw a big bash at our house. One of my brothers is hosting his new girlfriend we like to call Miss Alaska, and he needs somewhere respectable to bring her to introduce her to the family, after all.

Just like every holiday, everyone will offer to bring something. And then I'll fret that we'll run out of food, which we actually did one Easter. I was horrified, given that I come from a long line of cooks and eaters who take great pride in cooking delicious food in copious quantities. We strive to create the best dish everyone raves about on any given holiday. But in recent years, I have discovered not every family is like mine, which can be good and bad, depending on how you look at it.

In recent years, I swear I have eaten fake mashed potatoes on Christmas (Jesus would not be happy about this, I know) and one year at Easter, someone brought a dozen boiled eggs, undecorated, with some chips. I promptly made deviled eggs, in a feeble attempt to fill everybody up.

It occurs to me that not everybody views a holiday gathering like my family does. Average, normal people don't realize you need to cook 10 pounds of potatoes or 5 pounds of green beans even though you're only one person. They don't know you can't bring a two-person serving to a 30-person gathering, or one dish if you've got five, big-eating kids.

Then there was the year everybody brought their dishes stone-cold and were all vying for stove and microwave space while patient old people and kids sat around, glassy-eyed and starving. Good times. The next year we employed subtle suggestions to at least bring the food at room temperature or in a crock pot or warmer. My father-in-law, who is the most precious man ever, always arrives just in the nick of time, takes over the kitchen and makes gravy. I've learned to just glide on outside for pre-dinner glass of wine.

How can people look at the same issue and see it so completely differently? It's baffling. I've thought about this a lot in the past few months, during the past election, when millions of voters did not share my insightful view. How can I be so right and they're just so blatantly, blindly wrong ? And how can they think the same thing about me when I'm so obviously right?

And then there was the time when I lovingly interjected there would be 30 people at the Thanksgiving gathering. And the invitee replied "well the recipe makes a 9x13 pan." End of discussion.

All of it is just fascinating. And here we go again.