It's up!
So... Since the Future Mr. Two has been off at weddings for the past weekends, I have been the grateful beneficiary of my brothers spoiling in the past few days. Brother Z was my first visitor, and he created delectable edibles. From fresh lemonaid to mustard greens, there are too many things to remember! He was followed by Brother L who brought along Miss E, cheeses from local cheese makers, farm fresh veggies, beautiful steaks and the most amazing Sour Cherry Pie I have ever consumed (Thank you Miss E!). C and Sis in Law N treated me to roasted potatoes, salad with blueberries, goat cheese and pan seared pork loin with a blackberry marmalade. Needless to say, I am SO grateful to have wonderful men inside and outside of my family.
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| Brother Z |
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| Brother L |
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| Brother C and his Eternal Lady Friend N |
On the occasion of turning 80 (but remaining absolutely and eternally young at heart)
If Mimo were a piece of fruit,
Well, I would surely pick her;
And if she were a Popsicle,
I'd simply have to lick her.
If Mimo were a fancy dress,
I'd definitely wear her;
And if she were a chocolate bar,
I might not want to share her.
If Mimo were a movie,
She'd be sold out every night;
And if she were dessert,
She'd taste so rich, yet be so light!
If Mimo were a puppy,
She'd be spunky and behaved.
If she'd been helping Noah,
Unicorns they'd have saved.
If Mimo were a baked good,
She'd be warm and cheesy toast,
(Or chocolate cake, or beigli --
Whichever you prefer the most!)
If Mimo were the weather,
She'd be San Fran in September;
If she were a museum,
You can bet I'd be a member!
If Mimo were a Senate bill,
She'd get 100 Yea's
If she were a fad diet,
She would surely start a craze.
If she were a dictator,
Mimo's subjects would just love her!
And if she were a mountain,
There would be no peaks above her.
If you could see inside her,
The ego would be tiny,
On the other hand, her heart is gold
And very, very shiny.
If Mimo were a star
She would always be True North;
Precious diamonds, pearls and rubies
Can't hold a candle to her worth.
I could go on, and on, and on...
She'd conquer any test.
Simply put, in every way,
Our Mimo is the best!
If Mimo were a piece of fruit,
Well, I would surely pick her;
And if she were a Popsicle,
I'd simply have to lick her.
If Mimo were a fancy dress,
I'd definitely wear her;
And if she were a chocolate bar,
I might not want to share her.
If Mimo were a movie,
She'd be sold out every night;
And if she were dessert,
She'd taste so rich, yet be so light!
If Mimo were a puppy,
She'd be spunky and behaved.
If she'd been helping Noah,
Unicorns they'd have saved.
If Mimo were a baked good,
She'd be warm and cheesy toast,
(Or chocolate cake, or beigli --
Whichever you prefer the most!)
If Mimo were the weather,
She'd be San Fran in September;
If she were a museum,
You can bet I'd be a member!
If Mimo were a Senate bill,
She'd get 100 Yea's
If she were a fad diet,
She would surely start a craze.
If she were a dictator,
Mimo's subjects would just love her!
And if she were a mountain,
There would be no peaks above her.
If you could see inside her,
The ego would be tiny,
On the other hand, her heart is gold
And very, very shiny.
If Mimo were a star
She would always be True North;
Precious diamonds, pearls and rubies
Can't hold a candle to her worth.
I could go on, and on, and on...
She'd conquer any test.
Simply put, in every way,
Our Mimo is the best!
Through a dramatic, but mostly convoluted, sequence of events (I won't go into it [Four threatened to kill someone with a mandarin orange]), Two, Four, Brother Z, and I became stranded in a extravagant Maryland mansion for several days; we had no clothes but the ones on our backs, we all but forgot what a toothbrush looked like, and internet became a luxury of a bygone era. But no fear! We had been to Michaels.
Apparently, under this peculiar kind of situational duress, TD ladies' nascent (in my case, very nascent) Martha comes out. Two, Four, and I spent the night sketching, snipping, and stitching. We woke up the next morning to massive headaches and a pile of hand-appliqued felt wallets. We all felt better after a glass of orange juice, and were actually quite pleased with the fruits of our little craft bender.
Also, Four and I produced a disturbingly neat birthday cake banner. Few things other than intense sensory deprivation could compel me to create this adorable monstrosity.
Perhaps we'll post a tutorial or two when we remember how we created these little doodads.
Actually. . . don't count on that. We probably won't remember.
While some of my sisters prefer to highlight the provincial side of Austria, I was ready for the nitty gritty. With my fearless companion Miss M by my side, we ventured deep into the underbelly of Salzburg. To the deep dark land of sweat, scandal, straddling and salt that are the Salzbugwerkz salt mines.
Our journey began as they forced us into standard issue white pajamas. Before they herded us down, down into the frigid depths of the salt mines, a place where many have gone, and--if we're being honest--pretty much everyone has returned. We were shoved onto rail cars and wooden slides--I have a fear of splinters, so this was quite terrifying--with nothing to drink but brine--water saturated with 27% NaCl, in case you didn't know--and nothing to eat save the salty walls that surrounded us. We trudged on for hours, over--very small--bodies of water, and across borders--we walked to Germany!--all the while thinking of our loved ones back home, and our fading memories of daylight.
But seriously, the tour was awesome, it felt like an industrial pajama party. Not only did they give us great outfits, but given our surroundings there was a heck of a lot of spooning and straddling going on. (Note to those who might follow in my footsteps: BRING A FRIEND! I was lucky enough to have M mount me, but it very easily could have been one of our fellow tourists from the Slovenian biker-gang)
Our journey began as they forced us into standard issue white pajamas. Before they herded us down, down into the frigid depths of the salt mines, a place where many have gone, and--if we're being honest--pretty much everyone has returned. We were shoved onto rail cars and wooden slides--I have a fear of splinters, so this was quite terrifying--with nothing to drink but brine--water saturated with 27% NaCl, in case you didn't know--and nothing to eat save the salty walls that surrounded us. We trudged on for hours, over--very small--bodies of water, and across borders--we walked to Germany!--all the while thinking of our loved ones back home, and our fading memories of daylight.
But seriously, the tour was awesome, it felt like an industrial pajama party. Not only did they give us great outfits, but given our surroundings there was a heck of a lot of spooning and straddling going on. (Note to those who might follow in my footsteps: BRING A FRIEND! I was lucky enough to have M mount me, but it very easily could have been one of our fellow tourists from the Slovenian biker-gang)
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| I think we look awesome |
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| Pretty friendly... |
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| You can't tell anymore, but they had us straddling like sardines on this baby. |
I've never liked when stories end with a marriage or a wedding or proposal. In my admittedly different mind, it was as if when you get engaged or you get married, that's the end of your tale.
I suppose it's one reason why I was never overly enthusiastic about tying the knot -- or even having a serious relationship. The whole institution of marriage seemed to carry this finality about it -- especially for women -- and it was just too much for me to think about. It's probably why I was never into weddings or wedding dresses or any number of things: because it felt like an ending of sorts.
Now that I am getting married to the wonderful Future Mr. Two (he really is wonderful) I am so excited. But that concern about finality has changed to another kind of ending. As many of you know, I have struggled with my health for almost my entire adult life. My family has struggled along with me and my fiancee has been a wonderful friend through some of the toughest years. We thought that we would have a few years of relative medical calm. But somewhere in the Universe, someone was worried we might get bored. So instead, at the beginning of the year, we got news of some unwanted medical excitement. Unfortunately, it hasn't calmed down yet. And regardless of how hard I work to peace out (I understand the inherent irony in that statement) or how many chemicals my doctors pump into me, I can't figure out how to make my little body take a chill pill.
On the bright side, I've stopped stressing out about the wedding. Really, it's the last of my concerns. For all I care, The Future Mr. Two and I don't need a wedding. (TFMT would say that's been my opinion from the start, which is true). We were going to have a big bash with all of our friends; if you're reading this blog, you were probably on our original list. But as my health has failed to stabilized, our plans have gotten smaller. From 600 to 60 -- only our families.
I am extremely fortunate to have a life jam packed with love: from my family, friends (hi!), colleagues, teachers, conductors, mentors, readers:) the list literally goes on and on. But I don't want my story to end any time soon. I rather enjoy being in it. And I look forward to it long after marrying TFMT.
Even though it's with a certain level of consternation, there is something I have learned about endings and love and about each of us: Regardless of religious belief (I've got enough for a few congregations) love is eternal. Whether through stories retold by friends, children, grand children and great grandchildren, or though some mystical bond, it reverberates through time and space, echoing from generation to generation into eternity. It is not limited by sickness or by distance or death. It's not amorphous. It is why we go on living, go on hoping and go on being. It is because deep within our souls, there is a glimmer of faith that somewhere, someone can or does or will love us. And it is that glint that gives us the strength to go on -- whether we know it or not.
It is the reason why so many stories end with love or marriage. It doesn't have to be romantic. But it does necessitate change. It makes us less selfish and more selfish. It makes us want to continue forever and through it, we can. Because while stories end, love doesn't. It is immortal.
And in some way, that is what we all want. Through love, we achieve it.
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| From the time I was a little girl, I felt I had PLENTY of love in my life. |
I suppose it's one reason why I was never overly enthusiastic about tying the knot -- or even having a serious relationship. The whole institution of marriage seemed to carry this finality about it -- especially for women -- and it was just too much for me to think about. It's probably why I was never into weddings or wedding dresses or any number of things: because it felt like an ending of sorts.
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| T(wonderful)FMT made me happy to have EVEN more! |
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| Some of the people I love best during the last serious round of medical drama. |
On the bright side, I've stopped stressing out about the wedding. Really, it's the last of my concerns. For all I care, The Future Mr. Two and I don't need a wedding. (TFMT would say that's been my opinion from the start, which is true). We were going to have a big bash with all of our friends; if you're reading this blog, you were probably on our original list. But as my health has failed to stabilized, our plans have gotten smaller. From 600 to 60 -- only our families.
I am extremely fortunate to have a life jam packed with love: from my family, friends (hi!), colleagues, teachers, conductors, mentors, readers:) the list literally goes on and on. But I don't want my story to end any time soon. I rather enjoy being in it. And I look forward to it long after marrying TFMT.
Even though it's with a certain level of consternation, there is something I have learned about endings and love and about each of us: Regardless of religious belief (I've got enough for a few congregations) love is eternal. Whether through stories retold by friends, children, grand children and great grandchildren, or though some mystical bond, it reverberates through time and space, echoing from generation to generation into eternity. It is not limited by sickness or by distance or death. It's not amorphous. It is why we go on living, go on hoping and go on being. It is because deep within our souls, there is a glimmer of faith that somewhere, someone can or does or will love us. And it is that glint that gives us the strength to go on -- whether we know it or not.
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| Love comes in all shapes, sizes and types. |
It is the reason why so many stories end with love or marriage. It doesn't have to be romantic. But it does necessitate change. It makes us less selfish and more selfish. It makes us want to continue forever and through it, we can. Because while stories end, love doesn't. It is immortal.
And in some way, that is what we all want. Through love, we achieve it.
Mr. One is a lawyer. But I love him anyway.
He's been licensed in New York since we were newleyweds, but just got around to doing the paperwork for the D.C. Bar.
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| I brought the kiddies down to the Court to watch him take his oath. |
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| They were really sweet and charming. |
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| Probably because they slept through the entire ceremony. |
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| After everyone left, we took a few pictures. |
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| And then we celebrated! |
