Tava's reflection

39 and a half...with a whole eulogy

2011-12-27T20:09:00.000-08:00

Ryan told me that he loved me a few weeks ago and I know that he meant it, because shortly thereafter, he proclaimed it in writing on a small dry erase board with purple marker and told me that we should get married. And although I was flattered that he felt I was worthy of his heart, I was also trying to decide how to respond to such a claim, because you see..... Ryan is 5 years old.

I go and help out weekly in my 5-year-old's Kinder class and I don't know if it was the fact that I've helped him spell a few words here and there, the fact that I know my way around glitter glue and legos, or that I manage to sit down with the kids in their teeny tiny chairs, but for some reason, he took a liking to me....which I think we can all agree is....sweet.

However, after quickly going through all of my interactions with him and deciding that I didn't in fact, need to retain an attorney, I said to him...

"Ryan, that is so sweet... and I appreciate that very much. But you are only 5 right now and it's not time for you to love anyone like that. And by the time you should love a girl, I'll be like...a grandma to you! All old and shriveled up and you'll have to help me walk across the street and find my false teeth and stuff... When you're older you'll find a girl around your age and you'll be a very kind gentleman to her...and a good listener. You'll respect her and love her, but won't let her walk all over you. It'll probably happen in college... a four year University....somewhere with four seasons, but close to the water.... and you'll meet her your senior year...but won't get married right away....Anyway, you understand what I'm saying?" He pondered for a moment, looked me squarely in the eyes and replied, "I'm 5 and A HALF." Fair enough, Ryan, fair enough.

When do we stop tagging "and A HALF," onto our age? Well, I'm going to tell you right now.... I'm not stoppin'. I'm 39 and A HALF. And frankly I feel that it is a marker of sorts.... perhaps not every year, but for some reason this year it is. And I'm trying to be better. And kinder. And more graceful and more wise and more patient...by the time I turn 40....

And this is where I ask you to forgive the the non sequitur as I tell you that years ago I began writing eulogies about people I loved even though they had not died. The first eulogy I ever wrote was about a man named Chris...a remarkable man indeed...and after wishing I had said those things to him before he went to be with his Creator, I decided I'd write my loved ones their eulogies while they were still alive, so that there would be no question as to how much they meant to me. This seemed like a good idea to me then and in fact, still does...and if we're close, chances are I've written one about you. However, I've only given a handful out and sometimes hesitate to do so for fear of appearing morbid. Until, on my 39th birthday, one of my soul-sister Besties... handed me my very own eulogy in a beautiful black box complete with a rose. And it didn't feel morbid at all... And in spite of the fact that she is being very generous in both her description of me as well as her affection for me, if what she eulogized about me is not who I am... then it is most definitely who I desire and strive to be. So, while I'm 39 and A HALF, I'd like to share with you who I hope to one day die as, in,

The Eulogy of: Tava Sue Musial

by: Tennille

Well, I think we can all agree: The World is a Lot Less Sparkly Today.

Tava had a magnetism, a zest and thirst for life, for novelty, for joy that made her larger than life. She appeared to us mere mortals as somehow…I’m tempted to say “Magical” (It’s not magic, Michael, it’s an illusion.”) …Okay, none of you are laughing, but trust me, if Tava were here, she would be dying! (No pun intended) …But that’s just it, in any sort of magic, there is an illusion. And in Tava, there was no room for that. What you saw was what you got. Authentic...full of integrity.

Tava had the unique ability of keeping her feet firmly rooted while also being a soaring dreamer. She was steady, grounded in Christ. She was quick-witted and would keep you laughing long and hard with a risqué joke at every turn ("That’s what she said.”). She could use her beautiful voice to wow alongside the Church Choir or to make a sailor (or airman-specifically Gary Moore) blush. She made a mean mojito. She had a tattered Bible. She never missed a chance to extend grace and share with others the Savior who led her life.

She loved love. And she knew about it. And she lived it. Or rather, let Love live through her. She once said, “Once Love even died on a cross so that I could have life everlasting. My heart knows that love makes it easy to forgive, easy to go without sleep and easy to put another before itself. My heart has been hurt and scarred, but it also been loved more than it’s deserved and sometimes even desired. “ She loved Christ. She loved being HIS child. She was somehow never judgmental of others and yet, unwavering in her choice to glorify Him in all things. She let her light shine that others might see her good works and glorify God. She invested in others. She listened and loved enough to ask the tough questions. She had the courage to say words that might be hard to hear coupled with the warmth to speak those words in love. She was truly beautiful….. she was pretty enough, smart enough, and witty enough that one might just be totally intimidated if she weren’t also truly beautiful in the way that radiates warmth and acceptance.

I am among the many who are better for knowing Tava. To steal a line from Wicked (we really should have written that!) “Because I knew (her), I have been changed for good.” Tava was a mentor who encouraged blatant honesty and courage to face truths. She was a friend who laughed at life even when she had to look hard to find the humor. She was a counselor who guided me to insights about myself then helped me to discover who God intended for me to be and encouraged me to grow. She came to my performances to spur me on. She cheered my successes. She saw my insecurities and didn’t shrink away.

In these kinds of speeches, it’s become somehow customary to say, “So-n-so was the kind of person who…” But Tava was not any “kind of person.” She was her own. Unique. One-of-a-kind. She was a dreamer. She was a “live life to the fullest, not afraid to get messy, stand in the gap, keep truckin’ through the valley, shout from the mountain top, let the wind blow through your hair, grasp every ounce of life” kind of dreamer. She was a wonderfully talented writer who didn’t bury the talent she was given but became the faithful servant who invested it, multiplied it, and allowed God to use it to draw others to Him.

Tava lived a life that is an example to all of us. An example of how to make the most out of every day, how to appreciate and enjoy the miracle of each and every day we are given. She knew that her life was blessed. She once wrote, “But above all, I’m lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I’m lucky to know that my dumb luck isn’t luck at all…”

Tava knew she had a wonderful life. And she knew that it wasn’t chance but a wonderful blessing from God above. He offered her life abundant. She grasped it.

Finally, to those who will take care of her remains, I say this: Don’t put her in a box-she’d hate that. Okay, maybe it’s just us that would hate it since from our perspective she could never be put in a box- as for Tava, I doubt she really cares what happens to this earthly vessel as she is finally tasting the absolute freedom she always pursued.

Whether you're 5 and half or more, take some time out of your day to tell someone what's on your mind and your heart.

meant for the taking

2011-11-18T22:39:00.000-08:00

So you know that you've neglected your blog when you go and in an attempt to pay it a visit, you find it covered in dust, sitting on the floor crying and you can't for the life of you remember its password. (Note to self: the password to your blog is your birthday.) And that's just s.a.d. for me and my few loyal readers who faithfully come for a visit hoping for a reflection of some kind (Tennille) or perhaps a reason why I haven't called....

Well, the truth is I've been very busy..... I recently returned from a 6,500 mile, 4 month road trip... yes, you read that correctly.... filled with, as you can imagine, lots and lots of blogworthy material. However, I've come to realize that dedicating this blog to my reflections, well, takes time....time to reflect. So it really isn't fair if I just share events... I have to reflect. Believe me, better stuff comes after my mind stews on things for a while. Blogs off the top of my head would be mostly top ten lists, comments on the pain of Brazilian Waxes (those Brazilian woman must have incredibly high pain tolerances), and what are the lyrics to Outfield's "Lose Your Love"? What's with that song, and what the heck does it mean?

I wanna tell you about a woman that I met, Judy Cage... and I want to tell you about how much I *heart* Atlanta.... and about the giant Sequoia tree we drove through in the Redwood Forest... and why you don't want to spill pickle juice in an RV..... and the birthday party I went to.... and Glass Beach... and how Yosemite was crazy beautiful, but frankly, I've seen better...with better parking.... and how taking a 6,500 mile road trip with your husband and two small children is both a good idea and a bad idea....much like the automatic flushing toilets... great idea, until it flushes prematurely, or the disinfecting wipes at the grocery stores right by the icky carts....well, I can't think why those are a bad idea, but teaching your two little girls how to talk... that's a good idea and a bad idea...they don't stop talking and they don't. stop. talking.

But lately what I've been reflecting on are some various words of wisdom I've heard over the past few months. Somewhere between here and Atlanta, or here and California, or here and somewhere we were all walking and Orion, running as fast as she can to catch up asks her Daddy, "Can I please be the leader?" To which he responds in what might be called an "ah ha!" moment for yours truly, replies, "Orion, you don't ask for the lead...you take it." That is absolutely right I thought at the time and have not been able to stop thinking about it since. I've been contemplating what other things in life are meant to be asked for and what are meant to be taken. What do I ask for? What do I take?

Hope. I take hope. Hope is something that is always right there in front of us, not taunting us just out of reach, but rather a helping hand...a life preserver... always there, reaching out, ready to be grasped..... always there to take. Hope is there at the end of a heartbreak and at the beginning of a marriage, it waits for you when you find out that you're sick and it's there when you've lost a job or found a new friend or when you suffer from chronic pain or when you are trying a new Thai dish. It stays right beside you when you start a diet or a journey or relationship or when you're at the end of your rope. It makes no difference to hope if you are standing in a place where opportunities abound, or if you have nothing left to lose. All you have to do is take it.... and it will be yours. Hope has come with me to every ultrasound and surgery and job interview and craps table and Macy's sale. I find that in my darkest of times, hope is what has shone the brightest... sometimes, it's the only light around.

Hope is wonderful... and I take it often without hesitation...because it is always there and it never disappoints. Hope truly does spring eternal, even when all things around it are parched and shriveled. But I would be remiss if I didn't tell you that my hope is firmly attached to a rock... the Rock. And without that firm foundation, hope would be nothing.

My hope is built on nothing less,
than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
but wholly lean on Jesus' name.
on Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
all other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
On Christ the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

So my dears....hope. If you're in need of some...don't hesitate. Take it.

exactly like me

2011-07-09T19:59:00.000-07:00

You know those mirrors that magnify your reflection x10 or x50 and have a light all the way around them that are fastened to the wall on those movable, extendable arm thingies? I've seen them at places like IKEA, Restoration Hardware and even Target, I think.... yeah, I've never liked those. Not one bit. The way I see it, if you have to have it enlarged x10 and shine an obnoxious fluorescent light on it, well it's probably best left unseen or ignored. Picture yourself in a full-length one of those and hold that thought... we'll get back here in a minute....

My little 5-year-old asked if she could wear my perfume the other morning. I said, "Of course Baby, just please don't spill it." And then she proceeded to apply it to her neck and wrists ever-so-carefully in the exact manner as I do it.... and then she spilled it. All over. And I yelled at her. And an enormous tear immediately filled each of her big brown eyes and she climbed down off of her hippo step stool and slowly walked away deflated. Totally shattered. By me. And I felt horrible. I immediately stopped her, sat on the bathtub and took her by the shoulders and said, "Oh M., I'm sorry for yelling at you... but what's wrong, why are you so sad?"

"Because Mama, I just want to be exactly like you and I keep getting it all wrong."

And suddenly, there before me was a gigantic magnifying mirror (x50) encircled with the brightest, most unflattering light.... exposing every single flaw from the top of my perpetually 80s hair to the bottoms of my flat feet. There is nothing in the world that has ever made me feel so unworthy, stained and imperfect than when my precious little girl said those words.

And as I looked into her teary eyes through my own teary eyes...I saw me. Then. And a thousand things went through my mind, things I wanted her to know and believe and realize.... I wanted to tell her that I could think of a dozen people off of the top of my head that I'd rather her be exactly like. I wanted to tell her not to be just like me, but so much more. Better. Smarter. Stronger. Kinder. Wiser. And the list just goes on and on. I wanted to grab her and explain all of my mistakes so that she may avoid them.... show her all of my mental, physical and spiritual scars so that she wouldn't have identical wounds one day. I wanted so desperately to point out all of the detours, potholes and traps that I've found along the way so that she would be prepared. I wanted to face her toward the magnifying mirror so that she could see me the way I see myself and all of my imperfections. And perhaps then, she wouldn't want to be exactly like me.

But the fact is, although she is an old soul (the depth in her eyes dates back long before me), she is only 5. And anything I wanted to pass on to her was just too much. Too deep. Too heavy. Too far beyond 5. So when she's a little older and if she still wants to be exactly like me, I'll tell her this....

Lovey, be like me...the good bits. But be better. Get there faster. Don't take the same wrong turns. Don't let your heart make too many of your decisions. Live in the big picture, but appreciate the smallest of details. Be a good listener. Cheer for the underdog. Don't be so hard on yourself. Say what you mean and mean what you say. Wear bright lipstick, sing in the shower, and stick your face out of the car when you're driving. Eat spicy food. Dance whenever you want, however you want. Look up at the stars (and the puffy clouds). Learn to make good decisions. Remember that you teach people how to treat you. Give and accept compliments. Do your best at everything you try and try lots and lots of different things. Live just outside of your comfort zone... but visit your comfort zone from time to time. Be a good friend and a gracious lady. Go explore and discover and know that you can always come home to me to recharge and refresh and to plan your next adventure. Ponder, reflect and think....about who you are and who you want to become. Know that who you are is a direct reflection of Whose you are. And know that you are His. Don't need things. Set all of the earthly desires aside and invest in the things that will outlast this life. And my darling little girl, remember that all of the things in this life that were lost on me can be found in Him and reflected through you. Find those things and be exactly like no one but you. (You'll be enough like me, you already are.) And don't ever buy one of those magnifying mirrors. If it needs to be enlarged and lit up that much... you don't need to see it.

And then we played in my perfume.... all of it... sprayed and spilled and sampled and ran it through our hair... and smelled like French whores for the rest of the day......................

MAJOR Bling...and ground floor investments

2011-06-01T08:54:00.000-07:00

This is Major Bling....

And as of yesterday, this is Major Bling...

When I met him, I thought he looked really clean, really young and somewhat like Tom Cruise (little did I know, he got that A LOT...the clean, young and the Tom Cruise part) and I also wondered if he was capable of growing facial hair. I've been with him through his commissioning, the pinning on of his pilot wings, his butter bars, First Lt, Capt, and now Major. I've been there for his undergrad from the University of Arizona, his Masters from Mississippi State and through countless checkrides, upgrades, acronyms, roll calls and full chem gear exercises. I've moved nine times in ten years with him and watched him all along the way...continually growing and maturing as a man, a leader, a believer, a daddy and husband. And there has never been a time when he hasn't given me full credit and thanks for being with him through it all...that he could not have done it without me. He honestly believes that to be true. But the real truth is, he is one of the most honest, capable, tenacious, admirable and driven people I know. He totally could have done this by himself... but if you tell him I said that, I swear I'll deny it. To look back on all of this, all that he has become and to have been so purposely included and continually be an active part in the planning and successes, (and possibly failures) I have no doubt that this is the best ground floor investment that I have ever been given the opportunity to make. So thanks Bling....for that priceless investment opportunity and for always wanting me right beside you... where ever that may be.

357: Fenced in...revisited

2011-05-25T13:22:00.000-07:00

Ok-I thought that a photo a day was a lofty goal....but apparently it is an unachievable goal and the attempt at a photo every week to ten days would be a much better goal. Honestly. I don't how people do it.... maybe I'll just take a picture of the mound of laundry that remains a mound no matter how many loads I do and just post that every third day or so.... that really would be the most accurate representation of my life... nah, not really.

But on to today's photo. If you read my blog regularly, you'll remember "Fenced in..." it's about sparkly lip gloss and my commitment issues....mostly the latter. After actually typing out all of those things that make me feel fenced in, I realized how many there were.... actually, it was the fact that hours after I posted, my mind was going crazy thinking of all of the others that I had forgotten to add and that most of the ones you added also made me feel fenced in (Thanks a lot for that.) Then I thought that if I added to the list, I'd look even more crazy...so I left them off and decided to really look my commitment issues squarely in the eye and see which of us would blink first. It turns out that I blinked first, but in my defense I have very dry eyes.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present my first attempt at breaking down my fence (or my defense if I'm going to be honest)... I got Isabelle some new digs! Izzy B., as I've come to call her, is happy and thriving in my care and even comes to the surface to greet me... Jay says I can't prove this, but I know in my heart that this is what she is doing. But most of all, she's still alive...

So take that. (That was said to no one in particular... I just thought it should be said.)

362: Friendship

2011-05-20T18:50:00.000-07:00

I've been having girl drama caused by insecurity (mine mostly) this past week. Jay says that I'm a "dude chick" because I don't get caught up in what he thinks "typical women" get caught up in and I take that as a huge compliment. But I got wound up and started spinning out of control and thought that I lost a friend. And I was devastated. So devastated in fact, that I realized where some of my commitment issues stem from. If you don't invest, you don't get hurt.

I've had this card for years and years...around 20 years, if I'm recalling correctly, and I look at it more often than you can imagine...as a reminder I guess.

As life has carried on, I've added a few to this list, of what real friends are or do or allow...things like, don't get mad at you for drunk dialing them in the middle of the night, they tell you if you have something in your teeth, tell you truth in love when you're wrong, listen as you trail on and on about the same thing in your past that you can't shake, make you food when you're pregnant, and they don't dump you the minute someone tells them to, you know, stuff like that. They love you no-matter-what, even when you're spinning out of control in a whirlwind of insecurity. And the friend that I thought I had lost is all of these things and more.... And I'm so thankful.

Let me be deserving of friends like this and let me strive to BE a friend like this.

363: My other car isn't a minivan...

2011-05-19T18:16:00.000-07:00

So this is my other car....a Polaris RZR. The girls and I go everywhere in it (and the dog sometimes) and we all love it, love it, LOVE IT! The wind and sun all around like the freedom of a motorcycle, but the girls get to enjoy it too. And we took it to Sedona a couple of weekends back.... whoever coined the statement, "There's no place like home," MUST live there and drive one of these...

Hotty husband and sweet little daughters sold separately...

39 and counting...down. (364)

2011-05-18T22:52:00.000-07:00

Alright, lots to discuss... But not now... too tired... out of control with the (...) and this could easily turn into rants and ravings that would make little sense to you and less sense to me when I go back to read this in the morning. I turned 39. Just like that. No fireworks. No parade. No Mariachi band. I'll get more into the birthday recap later, but I wanted to get started on my 365 in pictures. My friend Kristen did this last year and I thoroughly enjoyed looking at her year in pictures as it progressed every day, and since this is the last year of my 30s maybe this will hold me accountable to making it a memorable one.

So to start off, here are a few...

First of all, you wanna get completely overlooked and pretty much shafted on your birthday? Try sharing it with this little princess (who just turned 5)...

She's an attention hog to say the least...reminds me of someone I know... However, let it be a testament to how much I love her that I spent 3 *hours* in Chuck E. Cheese which is easily one of my top 5 least favorite places on earth. This one had freshly shampooed carpets with the cleaning agent a definite and unfortunate mixture of panther urine, sweaty socks and burning hair... ugh. She had a ball... and that's what's important, right? Well that, current vaccinations and anti-bacterial wipes.....

When I think back on my 39th birthday, I will happily recall FLOWERS!!! And coconut cake... and gourmet cupcakes! I haven't had this many flowers in my house since my brush with death back in 2005. (Thank you to all of you who sent me flowers in 2005 to show they were happy that I didn't die...meant a lot.) I don't recall enjoying flowers more than this birthday!

And then there's my favorite little 5-year-old who woke up this morning, climbed in bed with me and told me that since she was now 5, she would very much like to make my bed for me and wear my jewelry. And throughout the day requested that we sing, "Happy Birthday" to her just to practice for later on with the cake.

So here I am... midnight on the first day of my 39th year. Over tired. Over sugared. Over birthdayed. Over Chuck E. Cheesed. But thankful. Always thankful. And excited to see what 39 brings. Happy Birthday to me. :)

The most thankless gift...

2011-05-07T22:45:00.001-07:00

I'm a mom. It's been almost five years now since I've become a mom...and yet, when I type it or say it, it still sounds foreign somehow. I decided to wait until I was a little older to have kids so that I would (theoretically) be wiser and more patient and more mature, but considering I'm five years into this, and I still like video games, sparkly lip gloss, have licorice for dinner sometimes and don't have the patience to let my finger nails dry, I'm not sure that waiting was the best strategy. But somehow I manage...

My Mama and I welcoming M. Rhapsody into the world.

Sometimes, "managing" means being awake, alert and completely sober for the entire day. Other times it means spending all day at home playing dress-up and dividing my acting skills between the roles of Prince, Patrice the store-keeper, Ursula the sea witch and a variety of other characters that really do challenge my improvisational talents. Other times, it means getting dirty and sticky outside, chasing critters, sampling various desert flora and fauna, singing in the rain or searching to find the end of a rainbow. And sometimes, "managing" is me acting as a chauffeur, referee and EMT to two small (yet surprisingly strong and fierce) people who cannot seem to understand the concepts of sharing and not using the other as a chew toy or punching bag. (In a scuffle, my money's on the little one though...is that wrong to say? Well, wrong or right, if you're smart, that's where your money should go too.)

M. was so much easier to mother than to grow.

Being a mom is amazing. And tiring. And overwhelming. And joyous. And frustrating. And challenging. And trying. And unbelievable. And so so much more. I teach and learn, listen and play and discipline and encourage. I shout and sing and spank and tickle and repeat, repeat, repeat...REPEAT...until I don't think I can repeat again....and then I repeat. I wonder how I'm doing. A lot. I read about how to be a good mom. I ask the good moms that I know what they do. I pray and look for the answers in the Bible. I look into each of my little girls brown eyes for as long as they'll let me, searching for the questions that will come...today, tomorrow... in a decade, in some futile attempt to prepare myself. I know in ways I succeed and I know in ways I fail miserably. But my highest hope is that I can somehow do for my little ladies what the mom of one of my most treasured besties did for her... "she painted the landscape of my life with wide brush strokes of faith, grace, hope and love." And if I don't or can't, well, that's why I'm already saving up for their therapy....

Little Orion Jai, born in South Korea but due on American Independence Day...the happiest baby I've met.

There are so many things about being a mother that I don't know. And so many I'll never know. But here are a few things about being a mother I know for sure. Being a mom means putting your selfishness and your own needs away...being ready for everything you're ready for and everything you're not...giving your love, your patience, all of your best stuff and your pocket money... sacrificing time for your husband, your friends and often times a shower in order to cater to your child's wants, needs and demands. I love my little lady bugs so very much. And I consider motherhood a gift. These girls have opened my eyes, my mind and my heart to so many new and exciting things. But there are times.... many times, that my job as their mom is very, very thankless. But believe me when I say, that I've never received a more thankless gift that I am more thankful for.

Orion and I

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!!

Say Whats? and Sweet Nothings.

2011-05-05T23:45:00.001-07:00

Ok- so, I should have started this up a LONG TIME ago because... well, because kids (and husbands) say the darndest things... so for the kids, it'll be

Say What? (Or say "wuuuuuut" if you're my friend Kristen.)

Orion
Mom. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.
Me.
Oh, well that's sweet M. if you were just like me what would you do?
Orion
I would laugh all the time and drink Diet Coke.

Hmmm, well, I wouldn't say that I do either one of those ALL of the time, nor would I say for certain that the two of those aren't mutually exclusive...

*I startled the girls the other day in the car.... (not by my road-rage or my driving...geez people, take the white wigs off for cryin' out loud).

M.
Oh Mom. You just scared me to death!
Orion.
Well, you scared me to TEXAS!

Death.... Texas.... eh, Tomato. Tomaahto if you ask me....

*M. and Orion are sitting down to a grilled cheese sandwich and M. inquires...

M.
Mom. ("Mom." is always a sentence to her. Mom *stop* begin statement, request, demand...) Can boys eat "girl cheese sandwiches" too?

*M. has a crush on "The Rock" or Wayne Johnson, Dwayne Johnson....whatever. I'm actually too lazy to switch tabs and find out... I think I've given adequate clues anyway.... So, we're watching The Tooth Fairy, a movie in which he stars. (It's pretty cute and suitable for children FYI.)

M.
Mom. *stop* He is sooooo handsome.... too bad you already have a prince. (That's what she calls Jay...or any one's husband for that matter.) If you didn't have a prince already, you could kiss him. Well, Mom. He doesn't have a princess, so actually even though you have a prince you could kiss him.
Me.
And that my dear sweet girl, is what we call a loophole. Good eye....good eye.....

I don't want to bore you and make you read a billion things my kids say, so I'll put these out a few at a time. I think they are hilarious and that my kids are adorable, but I also realize that you have better things to do with your time.... so, since you're gonna be like that, I'll just move on to the next part.

The next segment is what I refer to as "Sweet Nothings." I am a words person, the person with whom I've chosen to spend the next 40 years with however....is not. This one little differential makes for some very notable...

Sweet Nothings:

When we were dating.... He takes a $20 out of his pocket and says, "I have 20 bucks and I'm not afraid to spend the whole thing on you..."

When I asked him if he still liked to kiss me after 10 years... "If I didn't like to kiss you, I wouldn't do it... You should know me well enough to know that by now."

"Women are such suck-ups...they always go overboard with their compliments to you.... You're beautiful Tava, but you don't look 28."

"I don't know why I have to say, 'I love you,' all the time.... I meant it the very first time I told you and nothing's changed."

When I offered him a magazine to read while waiting or to just visit... "No thanks, I'd like to just be left alone with my thoughts."

"How much longer do I have to pretend to be interested in this conversation before we can have sex?"

After seeing WICKED, when I asked what he thought.... "Well Tava, you know me. I'm a man of few words, who likes to get to the point... so more than someone jabbering on and on... there are a bunch of people singing on and on and on... Let's just say I was ready for them to just get to the point." (And that's 100 bucks I'll never get back... And this is after he gathered his things to leave at intermission because he thought it was over.... thank the good Lord that to my left was my sweet, kindred spirit words girl, Tennille, who teared up with me during Defying Gravity and leaned over and whispered... "You and me, we're gonna write something great one day.")

And those are just a few of the sweet little things he says, that at just the right times....make me fall in love with him all. over. again.

So...I know you must have some too... any Say Whats? or Sweet Nothings. you'd like to share with the class?

Devil with a blue shirt on...

2011-04-16T22:19:00.001-07:00

So I'm very, very angry. Furious really. And I've been furious for about a week now and I just can't shake it. Let me first say for the record, I don't get angry very often...hardly at all really (except for a tiny issue with road rage, and the 4am barker next door, but we'll save those for another time)... And even more seldom do I get angry with anyone other than myself. Do you ever just grate on your own nerves?? Anyway, I'm seething even as I type this and I've been trying to deal with this anger using my usually effective "anger-management repertoire," thus far without even the slightest bit of success.... Let's see... breathing in the bag, sewing, treadmill, calling a friend, various gourmet cheeses, (laugh it up, it usually works...especially a brie/cranberry combo) praying, long drive... still pissed off. Seriously... mad. Like the deep sighs, stomping around, spitting, "How could you?" through clenched teeth kind of mad. (So unlike me, really. If I had a tail, it would be wagging...constantly.) So I brought out the big guns...I watched a scary movie...and then another one. And after that I was slightly less pissed. Slightly. More like distracted.... and right now I'll take distracted. Both movies had "the devil" in them.... I saw the devil and I laughed... funny. And then I reflected (the last item left in my anger-management repertoire)......

The Bible (Ezekiel 28:17) says of the Devil, "Your heart became proud on account of your beauty and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor..." And then there's John 10:10, "The thief comes to steal, kill and destroy..." So I got to thinking.... if the Devil (who knows beauty) has the ability to take any form he wishes, would he really be roaming around in dry ice (Korn blaring in the background) seeking whom he may devour lookin' like this?? Pffft. This guy couldn't even tempt me to under tip.

Nah. He would be fiiiiiine. And charming. And funny. Then I thought some more.... if the question is who could get me to get up off my knees and lock up my prayer closet door, throw my Bible in my panty drawer, slip into the silky comfort of some deadly sins, cross off the 10 Commandments like a to-do list, and dive bangs first into the lake of fire... well, it's this devil...

That's my devil...with the blue shirt blue shirt on. (In addition to grating on my own nerves, I also totally get my humor...) But it's more than that. If that was all it was, it would be way. too. easy. He would have

<------------these eyes

and smell like this ---------->

Cool Water is also known as: Liquid Yes and Kryptonite. I had another name for it which has now escaped me... Oh shut it, Christi and Katie... I know you two remember. My devil would be funny like Brian Regan and charming like Adam Sandler (Yes, I believe Mr. Sandler is charming....this is my devil, not yours) and always have these babies on hand...
He would be delicious and delightful and a good listener... and most likely play the cello. I know this is pretty specific, but what can I say? I have a type. And frankly, that's the way the devil rolls. Really the only thing I can't pin down is his voice... his singing voice, that is. His speaking voice would probably have an accent of some kind, but just a hint...not like Cockney Rhyming Slang from Yorkshire...but honestly if he had all of this other stuff, I don't think he'd need to talk at all... I'd be hand in hand with him (chocolate covered strawberry in the other) skipping down the road (and not the one less traveled). His singing voice would be either that guy from Nickleback (his voice makes clothes turn to liquid before he even gets to the chorus). I'm just sayin'. Either that guy or possibly the guy from 3 Doors Down... I dunno. I do know he wouldn't sound like John Mayer or Josh Groban...too dreamy or something.....and not like Prince. Definitely not like Prince.

So this helped......thanks for listening. Reflecting on the devil somehow took my mind off of the anger. Who knew? But now it's back. I'm still really angry. Really angry. In fact, I can't even recall the last time I was this angry at a person. However, as I sit here reflecting on my devil, (who is not. too. shabby.) I'm also reflecting on my Instruction Manuel. And it says, "Be angry yet sin not, lest the sun go down on your wrath. It also says, "Let all bitterness, wrath, anger, clamor and evil speaking be put away from you with all malice." (Eph 4:26&31) It's alright to be angry. I should have been angry about this long, long ago. And perhaps if I had let myself be angry earlier, (much earlier) I WOULD NOT have been this furious and WOULD HAVE already "put this away" from me. So, I'm going to be angry for awhile. Spitting mad. Pissed off. And then I'm going to get to puttin' this away.... for good. I'm going to put it away from me... and one day I'll forgive (not today, and tomorrow isn't looking likely either) like the One who came to give me life and that more abundantly has forgiven me. (John 10:10 & Matt 6:14)

So...what's your devil wearin'?

Fenced in...

2011-04-09T15:48:00.000-07:00

So, it's been awhile. Sorry about that. I've been reflecting....a lot, in fact. All I can offer as an excuse is that I took two Tylenol PM after midnight several weeks ago and I'm only slightly exaggerating when I tell you that I woke up face down on the bathroom floor three days later wearing a clown nose with Veggietales blaring in the far reaches of my consciousness. And I just haven't been the same since.... kinda in a walking Dyphenhydramine daze....

Thursday night I got my haircut...a lot....and layered....and straightened. That's not the story here though. A tangent really... but, I'm gonna run with it for a sec... as David was covering his salon floor with wisps and chunks of my mane, he kept staring at my lips. And I mean staring...which of course was making me very self-conscious. Very. Self-conscious. Anyway, just as I was about to ask if I had broccoli hanging out, or maybe if it was time for an upper lip wax, he said (in a very even tone), "Sorry I've been staring at your lips...it's just that they are SO SPARKLY." Hmmm, sparkly anything is usually a compliment in my book, but in a quick flash I recalled M. asking if she could put lipgloss on me before I walked out of the house. So, I let her and of course she chose the most pink, the most sparkly, the most glossy Dora lip gloss in all the world... (can't say that I fault her for this). He bends down in front of me and says, "I'm pretty sure there is actual glitter in there." Yes, there was. And yes, as long as I have little girls to blame it on, I just may wear it again....

As much as I could go on about lipgloss, the real story here is what I came home to after the great hair massacre. I walked in the kitchen and there were two fish. In a bowl. Swimming around. Alive. And my palms started sweating. And my breath shallowed. And I felt a little woozy and nauseous... and for me, all of these familiar symptoms point to two words... commitment issues. (Well...and pregnancy...but for this reflection, they pointed to commitment issues...)

Apparently, Lily Pad and Isabelle (Yes, my girls had already given them names) had been given to us at some military family appreciation night... which is really great, but why does everything given by the military involve some kind of commitment....sheesh. You have access to my husband 24/7, 365, I've moved 9 times in the past 10 years and I've have to say good-bye to good friends every new PCS cycle. So really... something alive? That I am supposed to keep alive? Ay caramba. As you can imagine, this "situation" had little to do with these two fish and a lot to do with my commitment issues. So, after I took a little break from the fish and breathed into a paper bag for several minutes, I reflected. 'Cause that's what I do when I'm being neurotic.

Ok Tava... (I usually only call myself by my first name if I'm acting ridiculous... or if I get too sarcastic... or if I just really need to get my point across, but it is nice to know that we're on a first name basis...) What gives? You've been married 10 years, you have two kids, a dog, a house, two magazine subscriptions, you buy in bulk and you're freaking out about having to commit to two goldfish? This isn't normal. To which I responded, "I never claimed to be normal... and I think I've really come a long way from where I started...so just. back. off."

I quickly took a mental inventory of the things that once made me feel "fenced in." Alright let's see... relationships, memberships, journals, leases, watches and bracelets, sleeping on the same side of the bed every night, car payments, tattoos, checking out library books, RSVPs, address labels, the neckline on t-shirts, plans more than 3 days in advance, buying items in bulk, bumper stickers, seat belts, putting my name on a waiting list, potted plants, owning things that are alive, lay-a-way, enrolling in something, speed limits, watching a show on TV regularly, any type of subscription and the list just goes on and on from there.... Do these sound ridiculous to you? I can assure you that I have a valid reason for each and every one.... You see how bad my problem is?? I even feel fenced in by ending punctuation... which is evident by all of the ellipses that I use when I write... What the heck? I have managed to shave a few of them off of my list (mostly by convincing myself that they are really Jay's commitments).... but I'm a little embarrassed to admit that many still remain...

Well, as much as I'd love to introduce you to Lily Pad, I'm afraid after less than 24 hours in my care, Isabelle is the only one that hasn't been flushed... Sorry Lily P, rest in peace.... and Dear Air Force, how about some stickers and a little thing of bubbles for the kids next time...

So my Dears, please tell me... what makes you feel "fenced in"?

Record Highs and Sunny Skies

2011-01-26T06:29:00.000-08:00

Well, don't I feel sheepish. I mean really. I had my blog all Christmas-y way after the holidays... and you can probably guess in light of that fact, that I have no trouble wearing white shoes well after Labor Day and I still have an occasional shoulder pad in my closet. I'm a rebel, what can I say?

The last few months have been very full. And I really must catch up. But the truth is that I've been spending a lot of time outside. It's been warmer here in Arizona than usual, in fact, there have been days of record highs... lots and lots of record highs. And somehow my life has been following the lead of these sun-drenched days...

In fact, my days have been so filled with sunshine and blue skies, it's almost one of those things you don't want to say out loud for fear of jinxing it.... sort of like when I'm on the phone and tell the person with whom I'm speaking, "Wow, the girls are playing so well and so quietly... we just may get to have a decent conversation." You should NEVER say things like that out loud...

So for fear of making a rookie mistake, I will say aloud for all the (cyber) world to hear (read)... My life is good. Exceptional really. Everything is just flowing along so well, it seems almost too easy. M. and Orion haven't been sick for as long as I can remember. They are growing and flourishing. Marriage is solid. Mentally, physically and spiritually I feel great. Family is good. Love my in-laws. Even my homemade soups haven't been better. So what? What does a girl do when everything around her is in a record high phase??? Well upon reflection, (because that's what I do here) I've realized that it is during record highs and sunny skies that you have the ability to see well beyond what you are normally able to see. And what I've been seeing lately are record lows and cloudy times... of others.

And with this ability to see beyond my record highs, my prayers include not only thankfulness for my own blessings but also requests for some sunshine for others.... for twins, for triplets, for moms with breast cancer and dads with skin cancer, for unsaved children and people who are searching... for themselves and the truth. I'm praying for rest and renewal for one and hope and salvation for a few. I'm praying for the healing of broken legs and broken hearts and broken nations. I'm praying for some with depression and some without jobs. I'm praying for wisdom and grace and chances to share the sunshine that I have been given with those who are sitting in the darkness. And it is my privilege and honor to do so, because I know that I am walking in record highs right now, because others were on their knees for me all throughout my record lows.

Dear Faithful Reflection Viewers,

2010-12-21T21:23:00.000-08:00

Season's greetings! I hope each and every one of you is exactly where you want to be right now...and if you aren't, then I hope that this unfortunate situation will soon be remedied. I will now be taking a short break in my blog posts to bring you a couple of oldies but goodies. The following one is timely and is apparently a favorite of my delightful readers. Thank you for your continuing interest and participation in and of my reflections. Please stay tuned for these upcoming reflections... "Record Highes," "It's apparent envy." and "Cig(regrets)".

Yours Truly,

Tava.

Santa...jolly 'ol philanthropist or scary bearded sociopath?

2010-12-21T21:15:00.001-08:00

Yes- it is in fact, the most wonderful time of the year....although I must say that Flag Day is creeping up to a really close second, especially since that one might be the only one that doesn't get taken over by either the retail market or the secular progressives...but I digress. But alas, during this hap hap happiest season of all, I have stumbled upon a bit of an issue which I admit, I did not see coming.

Even though my girls are very young (2 1/2 and 1 1/2 for those of you just tuning in), I worry for their safety. They are so friendly and trusting, made evident just recently by my eldest when, while our household goods were being delivered, I looked up and panicked when I realized she was out of my visual range. Thankfully, about five seconds later, I saw her coming down the stairs, HAND IN HAND with one of the movers. And so began the Stranger Danger Talk...

Fast forward to the night before our squadron children's Christmas party, when I'm sitting down, eldest daughter on my knee, happily explaining what would be her first encounter with 'Ol Saint Nick. Raise your hand if you see where this is going...

So, after I'd gone into great detail that she would be sitting on this man's lap, telling him her name, whether she's been naughty or nice and accepting whatever gift or possibly candy this "Santa Claus" would offer, I knew the exact thoughts brewing behind those round, espresso eyes.

and then came my stammering soliloquy...

"Ok Lady Bug, everything I've told you about strangers still goes. Don't talk to them. Except at Christmas time..well, only if it's a man and he is giving candy and presents...no, only if he's in a disguise...no, when there are elves around? Crap. It's alright to sit on a strange man's lap if all of the other kids are doing it...no, only the nice kids...no, only if you've been nice?? Crap. Only sit on the lap of of a man who is Santa Claus, although he won't have ID, because he's not real...I mean, he is real... but he will have left his ID in the sleigh... Crap. Only if you're at a mall and he's dressed up like Santa and there's a photographer and he's not holding a bell, and isn't asking for money and doesn't smell like alcohol...and only if he has kind eyes and can name all of his reindeer without hesitation. Crap... (clear throat) Honey, unless Mommy or Daddy say otherwise, don't talk to strangers... "

Luckily she's 2 1/2 and probably only caught the word "candy" out of the whole thing... or else she'll be having nightmares about said scary, red man coming down our chimney...

Letter to the Editor (a blast from the past)

2010-12-21T20:03:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. editor, Sir-
I, well...
I am, uh...
I am writing to say
That there are moments when he makes me smile so hard
That I grind my teeth to powder.
Like last night
When we did a slow groove
Under a blanket full of stars,
Wearing towels that smelled of chlorine and a dry red.
They were warm, moist, and felt nice to drunken skin.
Undulating and pliable like clay
He
Made
Me.
It was the first time
I had wanted
Anything
So
Badly.
He tasted like wet spices and sugar,
Familiar and yet
Exotic
Somehow.
Yearning from under a tangled web of
Auburn
Toward tricky and relentless
Azure eyes
And you know-
Just when my skin felt ready to unravel
Those eyes-
They hid him in a mysterious cloak
Like
Some Forbidden
Prize.

Sir, I am writing to say,
Well...
About the whole affair,
He and I,
Me and...
Him-
Bent back, doing a rounded tangle of pretzel pirouette
On a too red, too overstuffed couch like two
Broken
Ballerinas...all the while talking about that one song,
What was it? Or that painting or
Apples.
Yes, we talked and it was like
Cold water falling nervously and anxiously on a
Desperate
Tongue.

I remember
As if it were stained henna on my mind.
We were in a church
Upstairs under a low, dingy ceiling
Walls with words celebrating Christiandom.
He introduced himself
And when I told him my name
I could feel the warmth of the word as it left
His lips.
I don't think he breathed...when he said it.
I think he sang it,
Notes that dripped from his tongue like something flammable
And he...
Set.
Me.
On.
Fire.

Uh, Mr. Editor,
You see,
That was then
And this is 6 years since
And my heart has diced through countless red lights,
(Didn't want to see 'em.)
Blown through intersections and cut all caution to pieces.
It is accelerating somewhere between 90 and a stroke,
And all of it just to be back where I was
6 years ago.

He is James Bond in a martini-
Except,
I'm shaken...stirred.
I'm giddy and dizzied and maniacal
And he,
He surrounds me like tightly woven bamboo poles
As he pretends not to stare at the fabric of my blouse.
But he does and it's slow, ivory seduction
As he falls onto my cherries jubilee lipstick.
He is
Absolutely
The same
After all this time.

But his eyes,
They're tricky and relentless
and azure.

I can feel the passages of my heart collapsing,
The blood evaporating into every deep breath that I take.
I am worse than nervous,
I am triple-dip terrified
In a waffle cone.

Yesterday was
The day after
The day
That something happened between us.
I don't think that I know what.
And the moment is tear gas tricky
I am having thousands of minute heart attacks
Jerking around my good sense
Looking every couple of seconds in the rear view mirror
Just to make sure that
I haven't
Disappeared.
I don't remember my name, or the day or
Why
This man makes me feel like smooth cognac
But he does
And then he does it-
He does
And I am stupefied.

You see, Mr. Editor,
Sir, I am writing to you because I am not quite sure
How to tell him
That his
Capital I, capital L,
Little o, little v, little e,
Capital Y
Little o, little u

Isn't enough.

I've heard that one.

We had a connection.

Mr. Editor, the problem is,
His eyes,
They're tricky azure.

The 'J' is for Juggernaut

2010-11-18T06:02:00.000-08:00

The Juggernaut. That's what Cody calls you. And when you arrived into this world, three and a half short and messy years ago, that's exactly what you were....a massive unstoppable force that crushes any opposition in its path. Every thing you do is... full throttle. When you smile, you do it with your entire face... your entire being. You're so rough.... if it's breakable, you break it. If it spills... you spill it. If it's off limits... it's ~game on~ for you. You're always bruised and scraped and dirty and sticky and when you come to love on me, I brace myself and guard my internal organs and soft tissues. You're so loud. When you sing and talk and whisper and even when you sleep. And you're so very funny.... What an enviable disposition you have been given! I adore it.... and I adore you.

Orion J. ~my sweet, little curly girlie...please hold onto that zest for life. Please continue to soak up your surroundings, your inspirations, your experiences, your passions with all of your senses... jump in, get dirty and sticky and bruised and bloody. Fall and fail and jump in again. Be exactly who you are at the top of your lungs and with all of your strength. And for as long as I am able, I will pray a hedge of protection around you and I will have plenty of wet wipes and princess bandaides available. I am here. With you... I

I haven't missed a single minute. Watching and listening and learning (and cleaning up after) and so unbelievably thrilled to be part of the unstoppable force that is you.

I should've known at "Kool".

2010-08-13T07:07:00.000-07:00

I should've known. When I chose a kids' dentist office whose very name is misspelled (albeit on purpose, in an attempt at being clever I suppose) Kool Smiles. I should've known. When I chose a dentist that was sandwiched between a carniceria and a check cashing/loan shark business. I should've known. When I chose a kids' dentist who strangely decided that rap and an unusual (not in a good way) hybrid of Mariachi and Tejano music would be a nice mix for their patients (who are 10 and under). I should've known. When I chose a dentist that close to the Air Force base. The South side of Tucson is in some ways similar to the South side of Chicago, except that it has better Mexican food and fewer crooked politicians. I should've known. When we go inside and the really great jungle gym, slide, rock climbing, play area thingy appears to have been dipped into a Rotavirus/H1N1 cocktail, followed by a layer of melted popsicle and then topped off by a light coating of dirt and granulated sugar. Yuck. I should've known. When they call the 3 and 4 year-old patients to come back and insist that I wait in the lobby. A part of me thought, "You're crazy if you think I'm going to let my 3 and 4 year-olds go back there by themselves. That will be mayhem for them AND you." The other part of me (the more sarcastic one that lives her life with tongue-in-cheek) thought, "You're crazy if you think I'm NOT going to let my 3 and 4 year-olds go back by themselves. That will be mayhem for them AND you. Good luck with that..." In the end, the sensible me won (in addition to being sarcastic, the other one tends to throw in the towel way too soon in my opinion) and I did accompany the girls back. However, this was not before they insisted that I NOT accompany them, but rather peer through a two-way "interrogation mirror" while they were being seen. I should've known. When I chose a dentist for my children that uses two-way mirrors....

I will be returning to our previous dentist who sports the lime green Easy Tone Reeboks and Lily the lovely hygienist who was born to work with kids. There is no playland and the music is unremarkable, but I don't feel like I need a shower when I leave. I will however, be returning to that carniceria for their specials on chorizo and queso fresca.

Sir Lancelot and a life plan

2010-07-21T21:14:00.000-07:00

Ahhhhh....so many reflections, so little time to sit down at a keyboard. Maybe I'll start putting out my posts via my cell phone.... you should see how fast my thumbs can go...... Ok, fasten your mental seat belts faithful readers, because I'm going to be posting like a madwoman here pretty soon.... or not. I don't know. Probably don't fasten your seat belts just yet...in fact, go grab a frosty beverage and watch a little something on TV. I'll post when I can. That being said, I'm going to tell you a little story (100% true) about a boy, a bike and a life plan....

A couple of weekends ago we attended a wedding of sorts... OUTSIDE... in ARIZONA... in JULY. Who gets married... OUTSIDE.... in ARIZONA... in JULY? It was like I was burning alive. The only things that would have made that experience hotter would have been if the ushers had been passing out pashminas and hot cups of cocoa to all of the guests... but that's not the story here. After the wedding and after the big flaming ball of fire finally set behind the mountains, there was a reception and there was dancing. And what transpired was straight. from. a. fairytale....

Under a twilight sky, Sir Lancelot comes riding toward the dance floor on his trusty steed, the breeze in his hair and a weathered, determined look on his face. Ok- in full disclosure, Lance was 5, he rode in on a little red bicycle complete with training wheels and a horn and probably what made his face look weathered were the remnants of wedding cake and frosting trying desperately to avoid ending up in his mouth. But his name really was Lance and that has to account for something, doesn't it?

Our handsome knight proceeds unrestrained to the dance floor and no sooner than you could say, "destiny," he locks eyes with the fair little maiden M. Rhapsody. And then they embrace. And they dance and dance and dance... And it's as if the knight and the fair little maiden are the only ones who even exist in the entire world.... Until in a Shakespearean-esque twist, there is suddenly another enchanted moment between little Sir Lancelot and who else but another fair little maiden...Orion.... Oops... And so begins the centuries old love triangle.... But as a courtesy to Little Sir Lancelot, I would like to recommend that he not mess with the Musial sisters... they are part Mexican and part Puerto Rican and they will cut you.

As I am watching this from a safe distance, ("safe distance" in this case being close enough to not miss anything but far enough to not interrupt anything.) I can see it all going down as though I'm watching a movie without sound.... and then (from stage left) I see the maidens' father walking toward the trio with an expression that looks as if he's got some plans for the little knight's sword and they don't include cutting the wedding cake....

And if you had been lucky enough to have been privy to the conversation that ensued, you would have heard the following....

Protective Father (of both maidens): (slightly annoyed) Hey Boy, I saw you dancing with my daughters out there.

Sir Lancelot: (also slightly annoyed but for entirely different reasons) Yep.

Protective Father: Are you asking for trouble?

Sir Lancelot: Nope.

Protective Father: How did you get here?

Sir Lancelot: My bike.

Protective Father: Do you have a life plan?

Sir Lancelot: What's that?

Protective Father: What are your plans for the future?

Sir Lancelot: I wanna drive monster trucks.

Protective Father: Really. Does that come with a 401k?

Sir Lancelot: I dunno.

Protective Father: You tell your dad I'm watching you. And I'm watching you HARD.

Sir Lancelot: Ummm..... Ok, I will.

And as quickly as he had come, Lance was gone again.... on his trusty steed... wind in his hair and determination on his face.... In search of a life plan perhaps... or possibly just a nice big glass of milk to wash down the wedding cake....

And there on the dance floor stood two sad little maidens and one protective father with the beginning of an ulcer and a strong desire to start cleaning his shotgun.

This is just bitchin'.

2010-06-18T15:45:00.001-07:00

And by "bitchin'," I mean complaining.... not awesome or rad or wicked or any of the other outdated things that people say that mean, "good." And yikes. You know you're in for an awful blog post when the title is a play on words that L-A-M-E.... so consider that a warning.

A long time ago someone once said to me, "Tava, your down-in-the-dumps, depressed times are the majority of people's best-day-ever moments." Now either that was a compliment or he really thought I was maniacal, which now that I think about it, makes a. lot. of. sense. But he did have a really nice car. Or something. Suffice it to say, if he could see me now... Well, I guess you could say that I'm "down-in-the-dumps". I tell you this not to get your pity, but more I suppose to explain why I haven't been posting lately. You see, my reflections as of late, are pretty much downers and I don't wanna bring ya'll down with me. See, "ya'll down with me"? Who says that? You know who doesn't say that? Me. At least when I'm myself.

Now onto why I am not myself.

First and foremost, I blame the JC Penney "Fitting" Room, which should really be called the "You've GOT to be KIDDING" room. Speaking of reflections, if that was mine in their mirror.... Do they WANT you to buy their stuff? Could they have worse lighting? More unflattering mirrors? Grosser floors? Ok, the floors really don't matter that much when it comes to buying, but really? They may as well send a mean little person in to not only point out your flaws to you, but circle them in marker on the mirror, the way a football announcer does over a football play. Luckily, I brought my own two little people to do that.

Secondly, I said "good-bye," to both my inspiration and my naturally curly hair sometime in late February and I must say that the absence of both really stings. Although I've said, "good-bye," to that particular inspiration in the past, it was the first time I said it to my curls. Now this is important. If you have a long surgery or are under anesthesia for a considerable amount of time, (in my case, 12 hours) it will CHANGE YOUR HAIR. Mine was curly. Perpetually 80s admittedly. But never once did I complain about it, try to permanently straighten it or even wish it was straight. Anyway, it's gone. And I will one day accept the fact that when people see Orion's curly hair, they ask me who she got the curls from. (sniff)

Finally, I have lost myself somewhere in motherhood. Now, I suspect just by this statement alone if said in person, I would hear a collective, "Amen Sista." from moms around the country and the world who, without my going any further, know exactly what I'm talking about and feel the same. Can I get a witness? (Note: I attended a gospel church for years, so if I'm losing any reader on these statements, I apologize.) I think that generally speaking, I do a pretty good job maintaining Tava as her own person, but really? There are only so many Dora and princess coloring book pages I can color, leftovers from kids' meals I can eat, only so many brightly colored books under 15 pages I can read, only so many trips to the potty I can make with two little ones, only so many cartoons, computer animations and obnoxious kids' show hosts trying their best to teach lessons and instill manners (God bless 'em), and only so many mysteriously sticky messes I can handle before I am unrecognizable... to even myself. Whew. Felt good to get that out.

I know these things seem trivial. They are. They are not however really what has me down-in-the-dumps. Maybe I'll get to that later. But I have been a single parent now for about 2 months and I guess I'm getting a little... hmmm... let's call it, "punchy," shall we? In the near future, I will be going out by myself to find some adult conversation, some spicy food served on breakable dishes and I will then treat myself to some time to catch up on some Leah posts and maybe a book.... with lots of pages. And no pictures. And sprinkled with multi-syllabic words. And I will wear shoes that are in no way sensible. And a white shirt. And I will not bring wet wipes. See, I'm feeling better already.......

buried alive.

2010-06-03T09:52:00.000-07:00

Dear Buried,

It's amazing the way two little words in the subject line of an email can really affect me. I am often affected by your words, but usually in more of a belly laugh sort of way rather than a heart-wrenching, cry-my-eyes out way. The body of your email explained and expressed where you are right now and what you are going through, but your two little words were well more than adequate.

And in this time, between reading and responding, I sit here full-hearted but empty-handed with the "thing" or "stuff" or "answers" or "cure" to what it is that has you buried alive. Sure, I know that "I'm sorry." or "Put it in God's hands." or one of my all time favorites, "It will be ok in the end, if it's not ok, then it's not the end." are all well-intentioned and no doubt appreciated... but you and I both know that no number of heart-felt and empathetic platitudes come anywhere close to easing, nevermind anesthetizing this seemingly insurmountable pain. And it is for this inability for which I apologize to you right now. I'm sorry I don't know what you are going through. I'm sorry that the rain that began trickling down upon you has become a torrential downpour. I'm sorry that every direction in which you turn, there is grief and loss and heart ache and while trying to console and encourage those around you, you must also grieve and manage yourself. I'm sorry that I am not there right now and in the upcoming days and weeks ahead.

You're a smart girl. And I wise one. You know Who holds the future and you know the promises that He gives to us in His Word. So do your loved ones. And that is tremendous. We both know that. But if I were with you now, I would give you my entire set of brand-new Villa della Luna Pfaltzgraff, discontinued dishes, take you to a raquetball court and hand each individual piece to you to shatter against the wall of your choice. (I would insist on protective eye wear, however.) We could yell and destroy and perhaps get in a couple games of raquetball. I wouldn't tell you that I know what you're going through, because I don't. I wouldn't quote scripture to you, because I already know you're in them. I wouldn't try to console you or tell you that it's going to be ok because I don't if the "ok" that it's going to be, is the "ok" that eases your pain. And I'm so so sorry for that.

You and I. We're words people. And I don't have any. To make it better. And for that I'm sorry. I'm a phone call away. To cry. To vent. To distract. To listen..... shovel in hand and on my knees.

Ready to dig,
~Tava

defenseless.

2010-05-22T15:59:00.000-07:00

There are three things in this world to which I am utterly defenseless.

This little face is one.

(That nasty public bathroom that we are in is NOT another one....)

On the upside, my birthday suit still fits.

2010-05-17T06:57:00.000-07:00

So anyway, (I'm starting out this way to make it seem that there has been no long break between posts...let me know how well this strategy is working, would you?) Welp... it is the end of another birthday for me and I felt that I would be remiss if I did not capture some of the highlights and pass them along to...well...myself and Tennille...who informed me the other day that I needed to post blogs, "way more often" which I took to mean, "Don't call me on the phone...nothing good can come from us talking on the phone."

This has been quite a year... and all I can say is that I am so abundantly blessed. I have a brand new, pain-free back, a great house, a town that is almost eternally sunshine, two little ladies that make me smile from the inside out, a generous selection of the most quality friends of which I am most undeserving, a sister who is one of the rarest people I've known, in-laws that I couldn't even have dreamed up, and a rock star husband, 5 years my junior who I've fooled into believing that he should spend the next 50 years with me. And to think, all I really wanted for my birthday was a day off from my two, 3-foot bosses and the resignation of Nancy Pelosi.... And as I blew out the candle on my cake at lunch and the candle on my flan at dinner (which would explain why I feel like I'm about to fall into a hypoglycemic coma) I had absolutely nothing to wish for. (Incidentally, I did throw one out to the universe at the risk of seeming greedy.)

Thank you to those I spent time with today, either in person or on the telephone. Thank you to those with whom I am eternally connected. But thank you most to my Creator who "has searched me and knows me! Who knows when I sit down and when I rise up; who discerns my thoughts from afar. Who searches out my path and my lying down and is acquainted with all my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, He knows it altogether. He hems me in, behind and before, and lays His hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high; I cannot attain it." ~Psalms 139~ It's been a tough year in many ways, but hopefully the nicks and scratches, the pressure and the roughening I've endured has produced a more polished and refined gem. As one of my most treasured "Besties" puts it, "You know you are in God's hand, but isn't it nice to sometimes feel His fingers wrapped around you."

38 is GREAT!

beFOUR you...

2010-04-08T06:36:00.000-07:00

Before you grow another inch, learn another word or gain one more bit of independence. Before you stop calling your chin, your "chinny chin chin," and before you stop wanting to be a mermaid princess. Before my kisses stop healing your owies and before my silly stories stop making you giggly and wide-eyed. Before I can't carry you on my hip and before I can't throw you on the bed and before I can't scoop you up and cradle you in my arms. Before your hand no longer fits in the palm of mine and before your feet don't drown in my high heels. Before "Mommy" becomes "Mother" and before I stop being able to answer your questions. Before you stop pretending and playing and dressing up. Before you stop riding your rocking horse buck naked with cowboy boots and your Easter hat. Before you stop eating from Dora plates, flower utensils and drinking from princess cups. Before you stop mimicking me, wanting to be just like me and before I stop being your hero. Before you stop wanting me to tuck you in and kiss you goodnight and before your prayers of thanks stop including rainbows and fireworks. Before you have one more birthday and before you have one more first. Before who you are right now becomes who you were.

Before you turn 4, I want you to know. I loved you even before I met you. I loved the hope...the promise of you. You were a miracle when I first saw you and you are a miracle every single time I look into your big espresso eyes. You have brought me so much joy and wonder and perspective and pleasure and magic and laughter and there is not one day that has gone by that I haven't humbly thanked our Creator for selecting you for me to raise and mother. You are sweet and loving and affectionate. You have a tender heart and soft spirit. Sometimes when I'm with you, I get a tiny glimpse of who you are becoming and will be and I'm just overwhelmed... little you... overwhelm me and amaze me and inspire me.

Before I forget the details of your little face and the subtleties of who you are right now, before the daily and even hourly transformation of you creeps in and steals the little you from my arms and my eyes and just a few short weeks before your birthday, I want you to know. I LOVE YOU so very much. I want you to know that your name, Rhapsody~ "an effusively ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm," fits both you and my love for you, perfectly.

dumb luck.

2010-03-16T13:47:00.001-07:00

HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!!!

Dumb luck is in my opinion, the best kind. The kind that you don't wish for, plan for or hope for...the kind that just shows up in your life unannounced and often times unappreciated. So, in honor of St. Patrick and all that his day has come to mean and the fact that I've clearly walked booty backwards into a pot of gold, I am humbled and am hugely aware of all my dumb luck...

I'm lucky to have been born in a country which I adore and to have had the opportunity to explore its depth and breadth from sea to shining sea. I'm lucky to have friends who always make me laugh, and friends that have always been with me when life's punches make me cry. I'm lucky to have been afforded an education, and I'm lucky to be able to stay at home and "mommy". I'm lucky to have a love who not only tolerates my "idiosyncrasies" but finds them attractive or amusing...(very lucky). I'm lucky to be able to view the vast expanse of the heavens right outside my front door. I'm lucky that my two little beauties are healthy and rambunctious. I'm lucky to have been given choices that have ended in success and ones that have enriched my character. I'm lucky to have seen the "big picture" at a very young age. But above all, I'm lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I'm lucky to know that my dumb luck isn't luck at all...

Lucky me.

Ride Sally Ride.

2010-03-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

Dear Sally,

I won't pretend to have known you like the rest of them. Your family. Your friends. In fact, when I showed up in the story of your life, you'd already lived 59 years worth of experiences, relationships and memories. But what I will say, is that the Sally I met and knew and loved, was no doubt a more solid and stable, wise and seasoned, relaxed and confident woman than the girl she came into the world as. You had made your mark. You were unapologetic about who you were...truly authentic. And what's more, you accepted all of us...just the way we were....unapologetically.

There are so many things about you that I will have the pleasure of remembering. The way you listened when you didn't seem to be listening. The way you laughed down to your inner most core. The way you held my newborn baby girl with such love and excitement while speaking what was most likely German to her. I will always remember that you were the first person Jay called to share the news of our engagement...and your excitement didn't disappoint. You introduced me to the Bear Pit BBQ restaurant and a form of unconditional love I'd never known before. No matter what was going on in your life, you always had time to hear what was going on in mine. In pain and amidst all kinds of health problems of your own, your first question regarding my upcoming back surgery was, "When can I come and help?" I will always remember the way you treated me like part of your family...close family. I will always remember your flaming red hair and your matching personality that would set any room on fire.

You would have loved your memorial. It was strange for me being there, around all of your people...those who loved you. I kept thinking to myself, "Aunt Sally should be here...." But you weren't. And I missed you. We all did. You would have loved all of the attention and stories and fun being poked at you. There was laughter and there were tears and there were ice cream bars. But what I would like to share with you is this. You made a difference. You affected people. What a testament to the person you were, when everyone in your life thought that they were your very favorite. What a gift! And you had it. Filled up, pressed down and flowing over. When you spoke the words, "I love you," we knew it...and believed it...and were comforted by it. The impact you had in your too short 69 years will have eternal affects and that, I thought you should know. I thank you Aunt Sally. For the pleasure of your company (not nearly enough), the ease of your conversation, and for the gift of your two precious and unconditionally loving daughters who I adore because I can see so much of you in them.

During your memorial, a little pink and red paper heart was given out to each person that would then be placed with your body before you were laid to rest. And on this paper, we were told to write a message to you. The thought made me smile, as I thought about what I would say to you if you had been sitting there right next to me.... A couple of dirty jokes entered my mind. And then a brief memory or two. And then some thought provoking quotes that I thought you might have enjoyed. But as I sat there thinking, it occurred to me that whatever I put on this little heart would in essence be the last thing I could say to you. My dear Aunt Sally, if you were sitting right here next to me now and I could only say one more thing...well this is what my real heart (and the little pink paper one) would say. Thank you for loving and caring for so many people in my life who I love too and have shown me so much love in return. The impact that your love had surrounds me every day.

Until we meet again,

Tava (your favorite)

P.S. I miss you already.

Head meet Heart. Heart....Head.

2010-02-16T20:57:00.000-08:00

This was supposed to be a Valentine's Day post, so please forgive my tardiness. However, I did feel that I needed to actually experience this Valentine's Day and then of course, take time to reflect because...well, without reflecting there really are no reflections, you follow? Let me preface by confessing that I didn't get roses, chocolates or even lucky this Valentine's Day, yet this holiday remains my favorite of the year (surpassing St. Patrick's Day for the 8th year in a row). (I do find it worth mentioning that what I did get was a full night's sleep, because my Valentine got up four times during the night with the girls' um, what were they... runny noses, cold arms, scary monster and the "just checkin' to make sure you're there" needs.)

As I reflected in uninterrupted silence for 2 hours (what I consider another V-day gift), during our weekend ski trip I found myself contemplating love. Love...I'm fascinated by it...the way men are fascinated by Angelina Jolie's lips and women are fascinated by fat-free, low cal foods that actually taste great... but, those are topics for another time. Those of you who know me well, know that my nightstand, light reading is almost always some kind of book about love and relationships. Husband/wife, mother/child, friendships...whatever. I find the dynamics and the intricacies of love in human relationships just...amazing and...bewildering. I suppose one reason for my fascination is that I just don't understand love. And in my attempt to try and understand, I've filled my head with far too many books to name regarding every aspect on the subject. I've read experts' opinions, Shakespeare's Sonnets, the Bible, and even the lyrics to all of Richard Marx's songs and yet love's essence still escapes me.

Perhaps this is because the English language uses the word 'love' so generically and would do better to follow a language like Hebrew that has different words for different types of love. I love God. I love cheese. I love my husband. I love my girls. I love freshly washed sheets. Not necessarily in that order and how could those all possibly be considered 'love'?

Maybe it's because love is a concept that has been so over-examined and dwindled away to nothing more than little sayings and song lyrics and greeting cards. All you need is... What is... I will always... It's a many splendored thing... It stinks...

But I think my lack of understanding love is that on this subject, my head and my heart haven't met yet.

L-O-V-E (according to Head): Head knows that love is necessary. And good. And healthy. And fun. Head appreciates the euphoric feeling of romantic love, the intricately woven bond of motherly love, and the warm glowing love between friends. However, Head thinks love is moody, unreliable and sometimes criminal. Head wishes it could control love more so that it didn't take up so much space in its gray matter. Head has seen love kill and destroy and hop in the car to make a non-stop drive to Florida with the intent to kidnap (and possibly do away with) its romantic rival. (Note: The astronaut woman who did this was not wearing an actual diaper...it was a piddle pack which makes a lot of sense on a long road trip. Additional note: Heart thinks that if you've never loved someone enough to hop in the car and make a non-stop drive to Florida with the intent to kidnap (and possibly do away with) your romantic rival... then you really haven't loved...) Head needs to understand love. She refuses to wrap around something that is so elusive.

L-O-V-E (according to Heart): Heart loves that the feeling of "falling in love" actually feels like spiraling backwards into infinity. Heart knows that the more it loves, the greater the capacity it has to love. Heart has a greater understanding of what God's unconditional love of His children is like after unconditionally loving two children of her own. Heart knows that love is more of a verb than a noun. Heart knows that it's usually best to leave love undefined and unharnessed than try to dissect and quantify it. Heart knows that love hurts, love exposes and love takes logic and throws it out the window. However, Heart also knows that love is the one thing that lets the light in, that moves mountains and makes us human. Heart knows that love comes over every Wednesday after back surgery with a meal and some quality time, that in its wide-eyed innocence, "I wuvvv you, Mommy," is totally genuine, that it changes flight plans to help cart two toddlers and a dog all the way from Korea, that it somehow grows deeper and wider even after 10 years together, and that once love even died on a cross so that she could have life everlasting. Heart knows that love makes it easy to forgive, easy to go without sleep and easy to put another before itself. Heart has been hurt and scarred, but she has also been loved more than she's deserved and sometimes even desired. Heart doesn't need to understand love. She doesn't even want to.

For the remaining years of my life, I have no doubt that Head will continue to try and unravel the mystery of love while Heart expands and grows, hurts and heals, loves and loses. In the meantime, I've done my part. I've made the introduction. Whether or not Head and Heart sort it out, well, that's up to them.

it's just a walk in the (trailer) park

2010-01-26T23:30:00.000-08:00

Spot #79. Agave Gulch Fam Camp. That's where you'll find me these days. That is, if you're wanting to deliver me a pizza or just drop by for a visit. What I have called home for going on 6 months now is a 5th wheel, toy hauler trailer. Yes, it's a camper. No, I'm not joking. I've had so many inquires about said living arrangement, that I decided to just go ahead and make it official by adding the experience to my reflections. For me. For the curious. And for some time in the future when trailer life will be just a distant memory....

Let me begin by mentioning that...I LOVE it. Yes, I LOVE it. No, I'm not joking. I love the fact that it always feels like I'm on a camping vacation. I love the 5th wheel itself. (Those who have pitied me have come by to find that this really is hardly "roughing it".) I love that we have 3 flat screen TVs in 39 feet. I love that it only takes me about 30 minutes to tidy up the place, including bathroom, kitchen, beds, and floor. I love that I finally have a place to put my, "If the trailer's rockin', don't bother knockin'" bumper sticker. I love that when I open the door I can see the bone yard with all of its retired aircraft standing like soldiers in the not-so-very distant distance. I love the noticeably absent yard work. I love that I can get six loads of laundry done at once in the beautifully maintained laundry mat for about $10. I love the sound of the rain against the fiberglass siding. I love the creative storage space. I love the girls' motorized queen-sized bunk beds. I love the fact that I can yell at the top of my lungs and still not be within earshot of a far-lefty. I love the way this lifestyle simplifies things in such a way that I can take my girls all over to explore and experience and not be tied to...housework. Stuff. Things. Belongings. Simply put, anchors.

Now keep in mind, lady and gentleman... (I don't want to presume that anyone besides Katie and my husband read this.) this is no ordinary "trailer park". I certainly couldn't go toe to toe with 'ol Marshall Mathers living on the 8 Mile stretch. Nope. When I sit out on my slab of pavement along with all of the others to watch the desert sun set, I see over a half a million bucks sitting on almost every spot. RVs that cost more than a decent house. Motorcycles, corvettes, scooters, Segways and one ton duallys, with clever witticisms plastered anywhere they fit... "gone4good, eat.sleep.jeep., C.U.LTR, Spending Our Kid's Inheritance, and the list goes on and on.... In my park, the average age of the other campers is about 3 decades older than I am.

But one particular evening, when the girls and I were out paying respect to the sky, I realized what I love the most about my current living arrangement. It was 5 o'clock. People had already been congregating on their designated slabs for some time because as one man told me, "When you're retired, every day's either a weekend or a holiday, depending if you can buy beer." And as the crackly speakers began to play aloud for all to hear one of my very favorite songs, our National Anthem, there was a hush. Everyone I could see around me got up, removed their hats, faced the music and proudly placed their hand over their hearts (including my two little ladies) and I had an overwhelming wave of emotion. Pride...maybe. Appreciation...most definitely.

This is what I'll take with me in my heart and in my memory when my trailer park life is finished. I had the pleasure and honor of living (quite literally) right smack dab in the middle of the greatest generation. To my right and to my left. Up the roads and throughout the park. I looked over at the Vietnam Navy pilot in front of me and the Korean war hero across the street and next door the retired marine who I swear I hear, "oohrah," faintly every time we pass. I looked at the group of ladies who constantly give me understanding looks about this military lifestyle we have in common, what it's like to be a single mom most of the time and having a husband with whom you share 70/30 with Uncle Sam. (For those of you who aren't familiar with military life, Sam gets the 70 and you're prying the 30 out of his greedy fist more often than not.)

It was then, at this sunset that I saw these people for who they really were. These were the people who helped to preserve all that I adore about my United States and made the life that I most often times ungratefully enjoy now possible. These are the people who did the work without whining about what they weren't getting and without the sense of entitlement that I've grown to despise in my own generation. They went where they were called. They served. They sacrificed at a time when serving was unpopular in wars that would never be won. And they did this for the chance to be part of something greater than themselves. These are the people who display limps and war wounds and horrible memories of war like the medals of honor they are, ever grateful for the unique opportunity to have participated in everything wonderful that was and is America.

Yes, it's cramped at times. Yes, it's extremely difficult to shave my legs without contorting into some seriously advanced yoga positions. Yes, meal time preparation isn't quite what it was in the enormous kitchen I had gotten incredibly accustomed to. Yes, I do miss my stuff. And yes, I do prefer to live in an actual house. But without a doubt... These are the days to remember.

three coins in a fountain...

2009-12-19T21:30:00.000-08:00

As I dug in my wallet for pennies tonight for at least the fifth time this week, my two little beauties peered up at me anxiously (alright... impatiently) awaiting and certainly planning the wish that could only be granted with the sacrifice of a coin to a totally oblivious fountain of water. Under the enormous night sky which only the desert seems to be able to flaunt, four little eyes couldn't have been closed more tightly and two little hands couldn't have been more careful to aim and toss the unsuspecting coins into the water in exchange for the mere possibility of their simple wishes.

I was impatient. I was irritated. Why did wishing have to take so long anyway? Then I stopped. The real question was when did I lose that magic and mystery from childhood? In that instant, while waiting on wishes, I realized that I didn't remember feeling the magic and mystery from childhood. When I contemplate my youth, I remember stress, difficulty, fighting and a general feeling of helplessness. I remember feeling overwhelmed and scared and the last thing that my young mind would have thought to help was throwing a stupid coin in some water. Whoa...

And then before me, wishing away, were my two reminders. Of innocence. Of hope. Of possibilities. Of magic. Of mystery. There is something about looking into two pairs of eyes that reflect portions of your own soul that is just...mystery. These little girls are secure and confident. They are loved. They are cared for. They are innocent to the hard, cold realities of life. They are safe. And I get to be part of that. I have the opportunity to explain and explore, imagine and create endless possibilities and unbelievable opportunities. And that is just...magical. For them and for me.

So next time there is a bucket, a pond, a fountain...or a wishbone...or that first, brightest star, I will dig in my wallet for a third coin...grab what I hope is the largest side and pull...close my eyes and wish with all my might that my two little Lady Bugs will cling to the magic, mystery and innocence of their youth and will somehow manage to hold on to at least a teeny bit of that before it vanishes as quickly as their youth itself.

Next time, two coins each. Take your time, girls. And when you wish...wish BIG...

Some things I know for Sure (and a few things I'm currently hashing out)

2009-12-12T23:25:00.001-08:00

Life is a journey... blah, blah, blah. Each day, most days unknowingly, we live out cliches, quips, quotes and proverbs that those who have gone before us have so generously taken the time to pen for us (sometimes even in iambic pentameter). I truly believe that if one were to adhere to some of these well, life just might be a bit more simple... saving our hearts a little pain and our heads a little confusion. However, I also believe that sometimes you just have to cowboy up and learn the lesson for yourself. Here are a few things that the rodeo of life has taught me.

~If it's not worth sweating for (physically, mentally, spiritually or emotionally) then it's probably not something to waste your time on.

~When you say, "Good-bye." to a bad habit, a bad influence or a bad relationship... mean it, move on and don't look back... Not doing so wastes lots and lots (and lots) of valuable time.

~Forgiveness and restoration.... not the same thing.

~If you're going to a function and you don't know how to dress... don't call all of your friends to find out what they are wearing. Wear whatever you want and whatever makes you feel great. Who the heck really cares if you're over or under dressed anyway?

~Jesus Christ is The Way, The Truth and The Life.... when you accept Him, life will not be easier... but you will have an abundant life that you never knew before and you will see a "big picture" you never knew existed.

~Chicken McNuggets may arguably be "nuggets," but they certainly are not chicken and are most likely not fit for human consumption.

~If the person who you think is your soul mate doesn't feel the same, then he is not your soul mate and you should be careful not to try to convince him (or yourself) that he is.

~Time may heal all wounds, but if you keep picking at the wounds and slamming your heart in the car door to see if it still hurts...well let me just say, that's a tall order for Time to heal...

~If the grass seems to always be greener on the other side, then you CLEARLY are not taking care of your own grass. That doesn't make the other side better, it just makes you lazy. Tend to your grass and watch it flourish... and perhaps you won't have the need to peep over the fence.

~I have absolutely no idea what, "Starve a cold, feed a fever." means and no one who has ever mentioned it to me knows either.... That being said, I think we should do away with it once and for all.

~If you had a terrible childhood.....good news! It's over.

~Show grace every single chance you get. It's the one truly amazing gift you can give to people living in a world in which there is so little.

~You never ever know who will save your life...and you never ever know when your life will need saving. Treat people accordingly.

...seeking friendship

2009-11-30T21:46:00.001-08:00

Now what seems like a lifetime ago, life was simple. I loved life and loved people and something I enjoyed most was the diversity in both. I had friends of all types and all walks of life. Granted, some were closer than others, deeper and truer, while others were passing and more superficial. But the point is, I enjoyed each and every friendship and the impact that it had on my experience no matter how temporary or enduring. And in retrospect, the one thing I took for granted was how easy it was to find and enjoy these friends...

Today. As the last decade literally BLEW by, I take mental inventory of my life and friendships and am astonished at the changes that have happened while I apparently wasn't paying attention. So what have I learned? Two life changes (marriage and children) totally change the friendship experience. When it was just me, I could be friends with anyone... and the only ones that could say how far that friendship would take us were said friend and myself.

before...

SWF seeking friendship. Male or female accepted. All religious and social affiliations appreciated, but like-minded a bonus. Location not a factor as I am willing to travel.

add a ring and some vows and suddenly I became....

MWF seeking friendship. Couples preferred. Will accept singles, but males makes it a bit awkward on road trips. Both parties in the couple must be of sound mind and equally enjoyable. (We all have the couple friends that have an obvious "better half" who is more pleasant to be around and the other you would admittedly prefer to take their time parking the car.)

add a couple of tiny people into the mix and BAM! I'm...

MWFWK seeking friendship. Singles welcome but must be able to tolerate little kids oozing all sorts of bodily fluids and asking an incredibly enormous amount of questions, sudden changes in plans, not finishing a conversation and overall chaos without warning. Couples preferred. Similar interests a bonus. Both parties must be compatible with the two of us. Kids appreciated, preferably the same ages and genders as ours, although babysitting age would be greatly valued. Similar or extremely compatible religious and social affiliations would be greatly appreciated as I'm just too tired to argue these issues right now. Living close by not a requirement, but a huge plus as we are working around 4 schedules not including yours. Like-minded parenting a must. Smokers, vegans (I'm not trying to pick out tiny bacon pieces from a salad for you), crazies, non-disciplinarians and swingers need not apply.

So to my friends (and you know who you are), whether you're single, married or married with children and whether you're new or have hung on through the chapters with me... thank you... truly... thank you. Oh and please don't leave me because the vetting process is way too difficult and I'm way too tired to try to make new friends.

I Need A Hero

2009-11-12T22:22:00.001-08:00

I do. Need one. But at very least, I suppose that I want to believe that there is one.

As I've grown up and out of my childhood fantasies of marrying Prince Charming, being a professional Ice Capades ice skater and living in a house made of cheese, I've come to realize that my perception of what a hero is has changed dramatically. No longer do I envision a spandex clad superhero swooping in at the last second, rescuing the damsel/kitten/elevator full of innocents only to wave, smile for some photo ops and disappear off into the sunset on his horse, web or Batmobile. I don't even imagine the suave James Bond, shaken (not stirred) martini in hand, helping the young (and always attractive) lady just long enough for a quick roll in the hay, all the while imparting his witty little one-liners to whomever will listen.

Nope. Those aren't heroes, those are distractions. All of the showiness and the huge, daring feats have their place, but once the crowd dies down and the mess is cleaned up, what are you left with? A man in spandex, ready to vanish without warning to the next crisis. In his attempt to save the world, you are left alone watching and waiting for his next grand entrance, not knowing when or if there will be one.

So then what is a hero? And this is what I answer... A hero says what he means and means what he says. A hero tells you the truth even when you want him to shut up, holds your hair when you throw up, and gives you the one good reason not to give up. A hero makes you want to be better and helps you figure out how to make that happen. A hero steps out of his comfort zone and learns how to feel comfortable in yours. A hero is the first to say I'm sorry and the last to say something that he knows he'll regret. A hero realizes the impact he has on those around him everyday and doesn't take that responsibility lightly. A hero under promises and over delivers. A hero doesn't wander in and out of your life, he is there days, weeks, months and years whether he's appreciated or not, because there's no where else he'd rather be.

Thank you. For knowing I was the one for you the moment we met. For your insight. For your friendship. For your omelets. For teaching me quadratic equations. For sharing your last name with me. For wearing pink princess band aides because two little girls put them on so lovingly. For being the anchor to my sail. For your graphs, spreadsheets and percentages. For your great big smile. For knowing that I'm a wild fire and choosing to continually fan the flames.

Thank you for being a hero... my hero.

I smell money.

2009-10-17T00:37:00.000-07:00

The smell of money is fascinating to me. I'm not talking about the grimy $10 bill, crumpled in a pocket or the wad of ones caressingly slipped into "Velvet's" g-string. I'm talking money with a capital M. For me, distinguishing the unique and individual scents that comprise its smell is done in a similar fashion to distinguishing the fragrances of a full-bodied red wine. Just as I slowly inhale the rich scent of a deep merlot and am able to pick out its distinct hints of oak, grapes and nuts, I am able to close my eyes and identify some of the individual and complicated aromas that together become the smell of money.

Arriving at a girls' night out last night a little early, I found myself sitting and waiting at a rather upscale restaurant and thinking to myself, "I smell money." I knew the smell in an instant and immediately closed my eyes and began to recall other times I had the same olfactory experience. Inhale....leather. Leather bags, leather shoes, leather belts, leather wallets and leather interiors. Inhale....Chanel. No. 5, Mademoiselle, Coco and Allure. Inhale...meat. Prime rib, fillet mignon, Kobe, shrimp and lobster. Inhale....insecurity. Not having the newest one, the best one, the most coveted one. Inhale...exhaustion. Working, blood, sweat and tears, for what? Inhale.....emptiness. Buying, collecting, hoarding things that will not withstand the test of time. Inhale....jealousy. Of colleagues, ex's, trophy wives, friends and enemies.

It was last night it occurred to me the smell of money and the smell of wine share a commonness... a wonderfully, delicious aroma with bitter and fermented undertones.

Strange Relationship

2009-10-03T18:56:00.000-07:00

"You're such a part of who I am,
please don't disappear," you say
But you're the one who always vanishes
and goes so far away.

And again I stand in disbelief,
holding broken heart in hand.
Bleeding, wrestling, racking my mind
trying to understand.

Your love and our connection draw me in,
not just part, but all.
But as quickly as you come, you go
before you have chance to fall.

Time after time and page after page
we do this very dance,
Who we are stays in place, the change?
our circumstance.

And now that we've nowhere to go,
your safety net's in place.
You know you will never give in to the need,
you will always have your space.

I'll never be "the one" for here,
now something I know for sure,
But this masochistic addiction I have,
remains without a cure.

So I'll soak and bask in every second we have,
until you suddenly grow cold.
And then again I'll patiently wait
for "forever" to unfold.

But this time when you leave,
and I know you will,
Please run fast and far and then
run further still.

And with you take my memory
of every loving tragedy
and all the promises you kept or broke
and all the passion you felt or spoke.

And when my heart heals again,
and I begin anew,
Congratulations...I'll continue being Mrs. Him
while she'll go on being Mrs. You.

Funny facts about me... by Cody

2009-04-22T22:25:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when you forget who you are, it's good to have someone who really knows... remind you.

At least nine interesting facts about Tava (also some precautions) by Cody

1) 4 out of 5 doctors would put her in a psych ward--the other guy is not really a doctor.

2) If personality is a sapling, Tava is an oak.

3) Tava likes gold and silver because they're shiny...in a pinch try tinfoil.

4) She learned to talk from a sailor in a panama city hump-hump bar.

5) Tava can cook anything without a recipe, yet never the same thing twice.

6) If Tava complains, she is likely moments from the emergency room.

7) The song 'wind beneath my wings' is terrible and has nothing to do with her.

8) Tava puts everyone at ease, unless she is bored...seriously...watch out.

9) Tava could be a professional anything, as long as it only required a 40-45 second attention span.

10) She once stood in for the wife of the prime minister of Paraguay and even the PM didn't realize it.

11) More people casually tell Tava she is gorgeous than other other girl west of Kentucky, but it's all just part of an elaborate real-estate scheme.

12) No matter how cold it is in Antarctica, Tava's hair is an effective oven.

13) Tava has trouble remembering the 134th digit of Pi.

14) She is devoutly moral and intelligent, but has a tendency to falter and watch FoxNews.

15) Tava is confused why the wadded up $5 bill in her bra wasn't accepted at the Korean market.

16) Tava once threw rotten pears at Tom Daschle and only felt a little bad.

17) Every once in a while, Tava could use a good cigarette, even though she has never smoked.

18) Because of several years of home-schooling, Tava cannot differentiate between "mac and cheese" and "tortellini".

19) Tava loves a good book, especially one that will occupy M and O for an entire morning.

20) The phrase "fight fire with fire" can be attributed to merchants in Beijing struggling to keep up with her nearly Jewish bartering skills.

21) Tava is safe for kids- 7 active ingredients with all natural preservatives.

22) She will halt the launch of her missile in exchange for oil, rice and a good merlot.

23) In celebration of Dominican Independence day, a special edition of Tava
should be on the shelves this Christmas.

24) Tava is not responsible for daylight savings, and she always sets her watch to Swaziland local time--just in case of an emergency.

25) If you rearrange the letters of Tava’s full name you get- “Jumbalaya stained my left nipple”…trust me on that one.

Monkey see, Monkey doo doo...

2009-04-09T07:28:00.000-07:00

My diaper days are numbered thanks to big sister... YAY!!!

I'm a Taurus, but I eat ribs, play pool and flip-flop like a gemini...

2009-03-15T22:34:00.000-07:00

As much as I adore having the opportunity to be a stay at home mom without the consequences of abject poverty, I must admit that the days of complete thoughts let alone sentences have vanished into a distant time... along with some of my sanity and all of my ripped jeans from the 80's. That being said, one of the few selfish pleasures that I have (writing in this blog) doesn't get the attention that I believe it deserves. It isn't that blogworthy and interesting things don't happen or that I don't embark on mental excursions on which I would like to include you all... it's just that the end of my day usually involves some version of staring blankly at a wall often times with drool oozing from the side of my mouth trying to disengage Elmo, primary-colored legos, and the reasons that eating Play Dough is bad from the ever-shrinking gray matter in my head. So, on the days/weeks/months that I can't piece together a completely coherent blog, I will share with you the inner workings of my mind... displayed by tangents, fragments, rants and ravings... just the way they frolic around in my mind...

1. Crayola colored bath tablets are AWESOME.... although when the girls add yellow, it just looks like a bathtub full of pee.

2. The left lane is for PASSING...not camping out in 10 miles under the speed limit.

3. Hot wings are messy, difficult to eat and you can't get that smell off of your fingers for an entire day.

4. I don't know how the world was populated after Adam and Eve were banned from the Garden of Eden.

5. The "Gusher" fruit snacks really "gush" and therefore shouldn't be given to children or served when it's hot.

6. Listening to Jellyfish, Sade or Jesse Cook while I cook is just not the same when I have two toddlers...no matter how hard I pretend.

7. When you are in the Sand Dunes, do NOT use diaper cream. Orion's behind appeared to have a sugar/cinnamon coating on it and sand as she learned that fateful day...is abrasive.

8. Orion's new phrase is, "I did it!" which she yells at the top of her lungs whenever she does anything... pooping, playing, eating, biting her sister... And after she bites her sister, I say, "Orion, don't bite. What do you say to M.?" to which she responds, "Thank you."

9. M., who is no stranger to the spoken word, comes up with all sorts of good one liners. Here are a few samples:

Greeting her daddy at the door after work, "Hey Big Guy! Do I have some hickups for you!"
"Mommy, does your back hurt, because my booty sure does."
After spinning around a number of times and tumbling to the floor, "Mommy, I got really, really busy!"
"Mommy, you don't like Barack Obama and I don't like Bill O'Reilly....why don't you like Barack Obama?"
Almost every morning she comes into my bedroom, "Mommy, it's a BEAUTIFUL day." And when she says that, it always is.

10. This is just one of many reasons that it's fun to have two girls...

dumb luck

2009-03-15T21:24:00.000-07:00

Dumb luck is in my opinion, the best kind. The kind that you don't wish for, plan for or hope for...the kind that just shows up in your life unannounced and often times unappreciated. So, in honor of St. Patrick and all that his day has come to mean and the fact that I've clearly walked booty backwards into a pot of gold, I am humbled and am hugely aware of all my dumb luck...

I'm lucky to have been born in a country which I adore and to have had the opportunity to explore its depth and breadth from sea to shining sea. I'm lucky to have friends who always make me laugh, and friends that have always been with me when life's punches make me cry. I'm lucky to have been afforded an education, and I'm lucky to be able to stay at home and "mommy". I'm lucky to have a love who not only tolerates my "idiosyncrasies" but finds them attractive or amusing...(very lucky). I'm lucky to be able to view the vast expanse of the heavens right outside my front door. I'm lucky that my two little beauties are healthy and rambunctious. I'm lucky to have been given choices that have ended in success and ones that have enriched my character. I'm lucky to have seen the "big picture" at a very young age. But above all, I'm lucky to know that the great fortunes of my life have not been dependent upon a charm, a clover or a horseshoe, but instead a Creator whose warm showers of love and grace cover even undeserving me. I'm lucky to know that my dumb luck isn't luck at all...

Lucky me.

A Rose by Any Other Name.

2009-02-01T21:56:00.000-08:00

Now that winter is drawing to an end here in the Sonoran Desert, (and by winter, I mean it took at least 40 additional minutes to brew my sun tea) I guess I have come to terms with a few things that have been vexing me for awhile now. Not just little things either, like the fact that I will never be able to properly fold a fitted sheet, (unless you consider the appearance of a gigantic piece of wadded up gum properly folded) I'll never be able to spell bougainvillea (the pretty bush with the bright flowers) by memory, but I will without a doubt always go for the cheap haircuts even though the range of results varies a great deal. I just can't spend that much money on hair that recovers from any wrongdoing in a matter of weeks. As it turns out, I can accept these things. I can live with a closet filled with clean, crisply folded sheets on one side and huge pieces of wadded up cotton (600 count I might add). I can function nicely without spelling the "b" word-afterall how many times have I ever actually needed to spell that word? I can even rock the bi-level/90-10 haircut every few months if it means saving that much money. What I'm having trouble letting go is something much worse....something I've brought upon myself and my daughters.

When I became pregnant with my first daughter, there was no question what her handle would be. I've thought Rhapsody was a beautiful word for years and the meaning would be even more fitting for a daughter that I would love to mother. Rhapsody: an effusively or ecstatic expression of feeling... The "M." came later in my pregnancy when I realized that I would be giving a person whom I had never met a lifelong name that they would need to grow into. A name is an important thing to give...and I wanted it be a thoughtful name of which she could be honored and answer to proudly. I decided that once she knew who she really was, she could come up with the name that encapsulated those characteristics...the only stipulation was that it had to start with the letter 'M,' which in my opinion is one of the most beautiful letters and flowed nicely into Rhapsody and frankly, lots of words start with 'M' so it would give her enough choices. There it was M. Rhapsody Musial... fun to say, fun to write, fun to ponder what the M. would ultimately come to stand for in her own time. I took some heat, some strange looks and comments, one of my favorites being, "That's ridiculous" but in the end I felt that it was a small price to pay for something so important. Considering what teasing kids might come up with and how it would look in Broadway lights, I thought I had covered all bases. Nope. Totally overlooked the initials. You know, on every form in your whole life- you have to put first name, middle initial.... so what once was a beautiful, melodic and feminine name was now butchered and destroyed to MR Musial. Perfect. Sorry Lady Bug. When her social security card showed up in the mail, Jay thought it was addressed to him.

When I found out that I was expecting another daughter, I was at a loss. I didn't think I would have more than one child in the first place, always thought I'd have boys, and used up the best and only girl name I had ever thought of. What did that mean? Jay's turn? But then what would she end up being called up to on her graduation day from Harvard Law? Louise Galactica? Tequila Petrone? Tava Jr.? I love my name, but it's mine. She needed her own and it had to be good. My final cut was J. Lyric... went well with M. and was also melodic and to tell you the truth, I'm hoping for a singer. This time, the 'J' would be after her Daddy. Maybe if I gave her his name, she'd grow to have some of the many traits I've learned to admire. Jay liked the idea of having her named after him, but Lyric? Not so much. Since we both love the nighttime firmament and all of its splendor, it wasn't difficult to assume that we would agree on a name from the heavens. But when you start looking into star names, Alpha Centauri, Procyon and Fomalhaut just aren't that fitting for bouncing baby girls, unless they happen to be from the planet Romulus. Likewise the name xy4986l.203 wasn't what either of us had in mind. At a little boy's birthday party, Jay decided on Orion, one of the most beautiful and most recognizable constellations in the heavens combined with Jai, a feminine version of the name of one of my most favorite people...hmmm. I liked it. Fast forward to now when people constantly pronounce Orion Jai- OR-EEE-UN HIGH (as in Jai Alai, I suppose) and proceed to look for a little boy instead of a little girl. Well, not exactly what I had expected, but would work itself out in time...however, don't get me STARTED on how many people have never heard of the constellation Orion... Anyway, it didn't take long for me to realize in naming this little one, I had DONE IT AGAIN!! Her initials... O.J. Not so heavenly...

Well, it is what it is I suppose. I acquiesce. On the upside, my friend told me last night that they've both really grown into their names. That being said, I think I'll take MR. Musial and "The Juice" to the park before naptime.

Santa...jolly 'ol philanthropist or scary bearded sociopath?

2008-12-10T20:43:00.000-08:00

The Campaigning Blues

2008-10-09T23:51:00.001-07:00

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To Vote or Not to Vote-That is the question...

2008-10-09T23:23:00.000-07:00

In honor of election season, I would like to submit to you all that it is not a right to vote. It is a privilege. And for women, a hard won...one. As I watch the news and the election updates, I am once again seeing a frantic race to "get out the vote, or "rock the vote," or whatever trendy little platitude that the campaigners/candidates/zealots/patriots have come up with at the time. In these times it is terribly easy to register. In some states you can register and vote on the same day...and they wonder why voter fraud runs rampant...but I digress... In light of this, I would like to commit to your consideration my top ten reasons that a person should not cast his/her vote in this election.

10- If you can't name the current president, vice president and speaker of the House (must be all three)

9- If you think that it is Obama bin Laden who is running for president

8- If you don't know at least a few main differences between socialism and capitalism

7- If you have ever watched any reality show involving Paris Hilton (One Night in Paris of course, doesn't count...that could possibly be nothing but morbid curiousity)

6- Your actual source of news and current events is any one or combination of the following:
Jon Stewart, The Colbert Report, Saturday Night Live, anything on the E! channel or any
show on MSNBC

5- You can't name all 50 states and know that Puerto Rico is a territory (come on people!)

4- You can't name the candidates on both tickets as well as their running mates as well as be able to know what office each currently holds

3- You can't name which war McCain was held a as POW

2- You can't name 3 U.S. allies

1- You didn't know there even was an election until you saw an ad on MySpace 2 days ago

Ladies and gentlemen, if you can't vote smartly, don't vote at all. The Tuesday night line up may not be great, but there are plenty of other things that you can certainly find to do.

Here's to the Elephants and the Donkeys!!
(if you don't know what that is in reference to, don't vote)

Thank you for you time.

Eggs for sale (uterus and placenta not included)

2008-10-05T09:22:00.000-07:00

Well, my dear friend (and by dear friend, I mean soul sister) informed me the other day that she was in the process of selling her eggs (and by eggs, I mean ovums, not farm fresh).

Since this information was passed on to me, I have actually been toiling over what that means in the big picture and what the ramifications would be more than I ever thought I would. Now if you knew this friend, you would know that she is just the type of person to give of herself, although not usually in such a literal manner. You know...the kind of girl who is there for you day or night, laughs with you, cries with you, votes in every election, always returns her grocery carts to those corrals, tips at least 15% even if the service was terrible. To give you one specific example, this is the same friend who just several weeks ago, spent at least 8 minutes trying to rescue drowning bees from my pool. Unfortunately, I was quicker at doing the drowning...

Therefore when she began telling me that she had found a way to help a family and also supplement her continuing education, I knew I would be proud and worried simultaneously.
Before I give any more details or opinions, I would be very interested to hear what those who read this blog feel and think about this. To narrow down your thoughts, here are my main questions that I have been pouring over.

1- how much are ones' eggs worth?
2- should it be anonymous?
3- if the procedure works, is that the donor's baby out there?
4- is it ok if the fertilized eggs that aren't used are frozen for use later?
5- wwjd- not to be corny, but how does this tie in with your faith?
6- would you do this?
7- if you have children, would your thoughts be different before you had them?
8- is it the same as sperm donation?

Thank you for your thoughts and opinions as I am really trying to work this out. After I receive some comments, I will finish the blog on my thoughts and what was agreed upon in the actual arrangement (assuming I have permission from said friend).

Greetings and bellybuttons

2008-10-01T21:59:00.000-07:00

Well hello all...I've sure missed our chats. So, much has happened since we were last together, I'm scrambling to decide where to begin to catch up. I could take it from where we last left off and review the 14 hour flight with the two toddlers, the dog, the bags, the car seat, the stroller, the diaper bag and the purse...or I could move on to the weeks of living out of a suitcase, visiting family and friends we haven't seen...but instead, I believe I'll take it from my most recent excursion to the wonderful little town of Bountiful, Utah.

Just a few days after commenting to a friend on how much fun I am on a roadtrip, I found myself on said trip, from Montana to Arizona with my letters...J, M and O (thankfully Hammy opted out of this particular journey). There we were tooling right along, listening to Elmo describe in detail using the eloquent poetic prose that only a red monster could, to describe what he was thinking about that day, when we stopped for a quick fill-up and bladder drain when all of the sudden I had the WORST STOMACH PAIN.

Long story short, myself and the aforementioned letters, J, M, and O ended up touring the emergency room at Lakeview Hospital in Bountiful, Utah for several hours, an ultrasound, CT scan and various bloodtests to find out that I had an umbilical herniation (there was something caught in my belly button). Yep...emergency surgery on my belly button 2 days into a road trip. Who gets this stuff. Notice that I did not end the last statement with a question mark, but rather a period. It was said with a sigh at the end and not really as a question. I will say that after the letters scampered off to a hotel for the night, the nurse hooked me up to a morphene drip, I was rolled up to my own quiet room, void of distraction, children, demands, sticky fingers and responsibility, it might as well been the Turtle Bay Resort on the North Shore of Oahu. Frankly, I could have used a couple more nights in that place. And don't even get me started on the anesthesia... after that good sleep, I found myself thinking of other potential reasons I could give the surgeon for putting me under again.... do you think I need a vacation?

About 2 hours after I came to, the letters and I hopped back in the truck (and by "truck" I mean a huge, Ford F-250, 4-door Diesel-this detail really had no impact on the story, but I thought it was worth mentioning to those who really visualize as they read) and we were on the road once again. So, I think that it goes without saying, if you are ever planning a roadtrip...please keep me in mind.

So, with my bad back and now my bad front, I am trying to keep afloat with my two little ladies while J finishes his time on the sunny little penninsula of South Korea. Good Times.

The good news is that I now have my computer back, a home phone and a cell phone so please know that I will be ready to catch up to you...and you know who you are.

I've missed you. And it's good to back. In the USA, in my own home and with a repaired belly button. More soon.

P.S. For KS- I'll tell you more about the flight back, but just please tell me that when you cross the pond you are not going to be alone with the two boys. If so, MAKE A NEW PLAN.

Orion's 1 !!!

2008-07-06T01:51:00.000-07:00

My beautiful little, COMPLETE surprise has been with us for one whole year today! Well, actually I personally had her hanging around me for an additional 10 long and painful months before that, but I think you know what I mean. I could write so many things and recap so much that has happened with her, but instead I will share with you a wish and a prayer from me to

My sweet, little Orion Jai,

I wish you health and energy.
I wish you intelligence and grace.
I wish you passion.
I wish you sunny days and stormy nights.
I wish you early discipline and inner tenacity.
I wish you tender strength. I wish you true friends and easy solitude.
I wish you adventures and stability.
I wish you empathy and compassion.
I wish you creativity and logic.
I wish you successes you deserve and failures from which you can learn.
I wish you depth of character.
I wish you a zest for life and an appreciation for death.
I wish you wisdom.
I wish you faith.
I wish you everlasting love.
I wish you lots and lots of laughter.

My dear, heavenly Father,

Thank You for this precious blessing for whom You've chosen me to raise and mother. I feel neither worthy nor adequately prepared for this awesome task. But I know that through You all things are possible and I will look to You and Your Word always for wisdom and guidance. Bless her. Keep her close to You always. Let her yearn for You and become a woman after Your own heart. Fill her with love and compassion and wisdom. Protect her body, mind and spirit from any and all things that are out to harm her. Let her learn from her mistakes and take other people's word on danger. Keep her close to her sister. Let them love each other without ceasing and be a spiritual encouragement to one another until they go to be with You. Show me how to love her and her how to love. Watch and protect her when I am unable.
Let her find You and know You and see You through me.

In Your Son's precious name,
Amen

My darling Orion,

I look at you and I couldn't love you any more. In Hebrew "Ori" means "my light". With your easy smile, you light up my life. I love you and I will always be your biggest fan. I am thrilled to have the privilege and honor of leading you on your journey.

Love,
Your Mom

Flight 7859-Korean Airlines

2008-06-29T22:43:00.000-07:00

Don't be on it. That's my advice to you if you have any hopes of staying sane or having an enjoyable flight whatsoever. This is the flight that I will be getting on in the very near future. Correction- myself, a one-year-old, a two-year-old and a little dog will soon be getting on that flight. Those of you who know me, understand that I am not a math person, but even I can tell that I will clearly be outnumbered to the point that either I or the rest of them will have to spend some/all of the flight drugged/drunk in order for us to arrive in one piece and possibly the remaining passengers as well. A friend mentioned that stickers kept her little guy busy in an airplane for a good 20-30 minutes... any tips for two kids for a 12 hour flight? Any at all? Is this mike even on?? You can get back to me...

DRUM ROLL PLEASE...

2008-06-23T17:25:00.000-07:00

no- i'm not pregnant for those of you who have bets going... if that were going to happen, it would have been 6 months ago. the news of today is... we'll be heading to tucson, arizona for our next assignment! if you're family and you like us, then you'll be happy-most of you live out west. if you're friends, you'll be happy because you are so dispersed, it doesn't make that much difference where we are to you! at any rate, compared to our current location- south korea (for those of you who are really out of touch) we are much closer to all of you! i'll be coming back stateside 25 july and jay will be coming home sometime between oct and dec.... one cannot keep track of that boy's comings and goings. so, now we know and so do you!

Welcome-please put your coat in the back bedroom...

2008-06-18T16:45:00.000-07:00

well, after much anticipation from myself as well as my friends who have been encouraging me to start this thing up...here we go. numero uno. it's been difficult to jump into this, much like jumping into a preexisting double jump rope game. wait...wait...wait...NOW! no, NOW! no, wait... NOW! WHACK! WHACK! game over. this feeling comes from a few places, i suppose. although i'm a gregarious and outgoing person, i'm also extremely private and reclusive. that being said, putting my thoughts and feelings out for all to read makes me feel kinda...naked? and let me tell you...it's cold out there! second, there seems to be a rumor out there that i am a talented writer...translation, great expectations. to put it simply, i write the way i think...sometimes it works... other times, not-so-much. finally, when so much has already happened which has formed who i am, where in the world do i begin? walk with me. on this journey, i'll be doing most of the talking, but please let me know what you think and feel... it's important to me and i would love your company.

Tava's reflection

39 and a half...with a whole eulogy

meant for the taking

exactly like me

MAJOR Bling...and ground floor investments

357: Fenced in...revisited

362: Friendship

363: My other car isn't a minivan...

39 and counting...down. (364)

The most thankless gift...

Say Whats? and Sweet Nothings.

Devil with a blue shirt on...

Fenced in...

Record Highs and Sunny Skies

Dear Faithful Reflection Viewers,

Santa...jolly 'ol philanthropist or scary bearded sociopath?

Letter to the Editor (a blast from the past)

The 'J' is for Juggernaut

I should've known at "Kool".

Sir Lancelot and a life plan

This is just bitchin'.

buried alive.

defenseless.

On the upside, my birthday suit still fits.

beFOUR you...

dumb luck.

Ride Sally Ride.

Head meet Heart. Heart....Head.

it's just a walk in the (trailer) park

three coins in a fountain...

Some things I know for Sure (and a few things I'm currently hashing out)

...seeking friendship

I Need A Hero

I smell money.

Strange Relationship

Funny facts about me... by Cody

Sometimes when you forget who you are, it's good to have someone who really knows... remind you.

At least nine interesting facts about Tava (also some precautions) by Cody

1) 4 out of 5 doctors would put her in a psych ward--the other guy is not really a doctor.

2) If personality is a sapling, Tava is an oak.

3) Tava likes gold and silver because they're shiny...in a pinch try tinfoil.

4) She learned to talk from a sailor in a panama city hump-hump bar.

5) Tava can cook anything without a recipe, yet never the same thing twice.

6) If Tava complains, she is likely moments from the emergency room.

7) The song 'wind beneath my wings' is terrible and has nothing to do with her.

8) Tava puts everyone at ease, unless she is bored...seriously...watch out.

9) Tava could be a professional anything, as long as it only required a 40-45 second attention span.

10) She once stood in for the wife of the prime minister of Paraguay and even the PM didn't realize it.

11) More people casually tell Tava she is gorgeous than other other girl west of Kentucky, but it's all just part of an elaborate real-estate scheme.

12) No matter how cold it is in Antarctica, Tava's hair is an effective oven.

13) Tava has trouble remembering the 134th digit of Pi.

14) She is devoutly moral and intelligent, but has a tendency to falter and watch FoxNews.

15) Tava is confused why the wadded up $5 bill in her bra wasn't accepted at the Korean market.

16) Tava once threw rotten pears at Tom Daschle and only felt a little bad.

17) Every once in a while, Tava could use a good cigarette, even though she has never smoked.

18) Because of several years of home-schooling, Tava cannot differentiate between "mac and cheese" and "tortellini".

19) Tava loves a good book, especially one that will occupy M and O for an entire morning.

20) The phrase "fight fire with fire" can be attributed to merchants in Beijing struggling to keep up with her nearly Jewish bartering skills.

21) Tava is safe for kids- 7 active ingredients with all natural preservatives.

23) In celebration of Dominican Independence day, a special edition of Tavashould be on the shelves this Christmas.

24) Tava is not responsible for daylight savings, and she always sets her watch to Swaziland local time--just in case of an emergency.

25) If you rearrange the letters of Tava’s full name you get- “Jumbalaya stained my left nipple”…trust me on that one.

Monkey see, Monkey doo doo...

I'm a Taurus, but I eat ribs, play pool and flip-flop like a gemini...

dumb luck

A Rose by Any Other Name.

Santa...jolly 'ol philanthropist or scary bearded sociopath?

The Campaigning Blues

To Vote or Not to Vote-That is the question...

Eggs for sale (uterus and placenta not included)

Greetings and bellybuttons

Orion's 1 !!!

Flight 7859-Korean Airlines

DRUM ROLL PLEASE...

Welcome-please put your coat in the back bedroom...

23) In celebration of Dominican Independence day, a special edition of Tava
should be on the shelves this Christmas.