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We interrupt this hiatus to express condolences to Joshua Claybourn on the loss of his mother. Your family will be in my family’s prayers, Josh.
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It was a bad idea to let my brother move his computer to his room. Lare, who happens to be quite the EverCrack junkie (EverQuest for the uninitiated), spends most of his time playing when he isn’t at work or school. Since he moved his computer to his room, I haven’t seen a peep of him unless he’s hungry. I sincerely hope his computer suffers a Denial of Service attack from which it will never recover one day.
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I guess there won’t be any dancing at the wedding after all.
It’s going to be a very small ceremony, with only immediate family in attendance. The way Mir and Brian had originally wanted it.
On Valentine’s Day.
Woohoo!
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There’s a storm brewing amidst supposedly happy plans. It started tonight when my sister Mir, her fiance Brian, and both sets of parents met to discuss the upcoming wedding.
Mir dropped the bomb then: she wanted to dance at the wedding reception. That might not seem like such a big thing to most people, but being the socially conservative Christians that they are, my parents did not take this very well. In fact, Mom had a huge fit. And the only thing Dad said was that this was not a tradition at his wedding or any other Christian/relative wedding he’d ever attended.
The first thing that came to mind when I heard THAT was that this wasn’t about his wedding or someone else’s - this was about my sister’s. Their daughter’s. My mother maintains that because my father is a minister at his church, to dance with his daughter at her wedding to any sort of music is too worldly. I merely told my parents that I disagreed with them on this issue and left it at that; to give my full opinion would have meant having to sit through a Lecture and getting lots of Looks, and I wasn’t in the mood to receive either.
And what’s my opinion, anyway? Well, I’m not a dancer - the first time I’d ever been on the dance floor was last June at a friend’s wedding, which was an experience in itself. And this is not my wedding. I did have fun and I wouldn’t mind dancing at my sister’s wedding, if that happens, and ultimately, I don’t see the harm in dancing, period, to Christian music or otherwise. Of course, now that I think about it, dancing to Christian music would be weird since the lyrics are supposed to be about God in some way…
Anyway - we seem to be an impasse here. Mir’s unhappy, my parents are unhappy, and there’s no telling at this point who’ll throw in the towel first, them or her. (IMO, I don’t think it will be Mir.)
As to dancing itself - is that so bad or is this just a misunderstanding between the socially conservative elders and not-so-conservative youth of the respective families and churches? I wish I knew.
P.S. The dancing that’s being referred to here is not the sexually provocative kind that might be found at high schools. I mean the kind that’s done for fun. Just so you know.
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It sure is gonna be weird having another boy in the family when my sister marries in a few months. Everybody’s growing up way too fast around here.
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Happy Birthday, Hannah! Don’t study too hard today, gal…
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…at the weekend, that is.
There was a neighborhood block party for all the folks in my parents’ cul-de-sac, and now that I think about it, I realize just how much my neighbors, when gathered together, mirror my dad’s side of the family.
Strained conversation, fake smiles, so much syrupy politeness oozing around that after awhile you want to scream.
Yeah, it was one of those gatherings.
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I’m paraphrasing here.
U: I might go see Tomb Raider 2…
R: That one looks a lot more exciting than the first one. Did you see the first one?
U: No.
R: Me neither.
U: Then how could you tell if this one was more exciting than the first one?
R: The previews for the second one looked more exciting than the previews for the first one!
U: Ahh. I see how it is…
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39 years, plus 9 more and counting.
I love you!
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Well, maybe there’re a few.
This weekend was memorable in many ways:
1. I finally got to meet my XO! (I love his hugs.)
2. I also got to meet my XO’s daughter. She’s one of a kind and very rowdy, especially after downing some Dr. Pepper. (Lion King, anyone?)
3. I reaffirmed ties with a wonderful brother in Christ.
4. I got to pick on Ashley for the entire weekend! WOOT!
5. I finally tried Thai food - very delicious (especially the chicken kebabs dipped in peanut sauce).
6. I walked down Hollywood Boulevard for the very first time. Frankly, the only difference I saw between this street and Market Street in downtown San Francisco was that Hollywood Blvd. has gold stars on its sidewalks, and Market St. doesn’t. This was still memorable, however, because it was my first time in Southern California, in L.A., and especially my first time in the Land of the “Rich and Famous.”
More details soon, after I catch up on things around the Blogosphere - though this “vacation” was a good break from all the blogsurfing and IMing that’s part of my daily routine nowadays.
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You know how those online translators sometimes muddle the original query when you translate it back into English?
Dad (to Mom): Could you tell Vic when she comes home to clean up her room a little?My parents don’t need a computer to mis-translate anything.*LATER*
Mom (crossly, voice raised): Victoria, your dad wants you to clean up your room, RIGHT NOW!
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Dear Victoria,
I was thinking of embarrassing you in front of my readers, but decided getting a glare from you on your birthday would not be a good thing. (Yes, I’m kidding.)
So I’ll wax sentimental instead: I thank God for blessing me with the family I have, and I’m glad you’re my little sister. Happy 18th Birthday! I love you.
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I guess I shouldn’t keep my dad out of the loop when it comes to important things…
Dad: Do you still have the Black Hawk Down and We Were Soldiers DVDs?Me: Uh, no
Dad: WHAT!?
Me: I gave them away.
Dad: Why?
Me: I was done watching them.
Dad: Can you get them back?
Me: Dad, I gave them away as Christmas gifts!
Dad: *sigh*
Me: You can always go rent ‘em from Hollywood Video…
Dad: What were we talking about before I brought this up?
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Some people just aren’t meant to have pets.
My brother, for instance.
A friend of ours went on a trip this weekend, and we’ve been charged to take care of her cat and dog while she and her family are away.
On Friday night, Lare went over to her house to feed them, and didn’t realize till he’d dumped a can of beef in the cat’s dish that he’d given her (or him, I don’t really know if the feline’s male or female) the dog’s food. Yesterday I made sure not to make the same mistake.
I mean, how can you feed the cat dog food when the can of beef clearly has a picture of a dog on it?
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How many 22-year-olds do you know who don’t have a driver’s license, much less experience of any sort behind the wheel?
Well, you’re looking at one.
(You may pick up your jaw now, the floor is quite dusty.)
I took the permit test Friday and passed. Saturday afternoon, my mom and I are cruising towards my parents’ place after a shopping jaunt in this monster when my mother says, “You’re driving home.”
Silent protest: You’re making me drive this THING home?
My palms start getting clammy. I swallow hard as we pull towards the curb, and slowly get out of the passenger’s seat to trade places with my mother.
Put seatbelt on.
Check mirrors.
Release parking brake.
Shift gear from “Park” to “Drive.”
Keep foot on brake pedal.
Make sure no innocent pedestrians or other drivers are nearby to watch this humiliating endeavor.
Go.
End result: I didn’t crash into anything. I didn’t have to slam on the brakes. I even parked the Monster in front of the house with no problem.
I drove a car.
(Okay, I drove a van.)
But rest assured that from now on, no matter how nice it feels to be that high off the ground in such a huge vehicle, I am sticking to learning how to drive in my sister’s little Accent.
And I will not let my mother play driving instructor ever again, either. Not when her instructions go like this: “Follow the line, keep steering this way…yes…now step on the brake! Step on the brake!…Remember to signal. Yes. Good. Reverse and park now. I said reverse! Watch out for the curb!”
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Rachel, Aaron=cousins
Miriam, Victoria, Larry=siblings
Chris, Stacy, Nicole, Mike=friends
The original goal of leaving my folks’ place last night was to go hang out at the mall as bored students on winter vacation are wont to do when boredom creeps upon them. So me, Miriam, Victoria, Rachel and Aaron (poor guy, he was stuck in a car full of chicks, and none of them he could date either) pile into the car, a Mazda Protege that was yellow enough to be seen even in the dark, and head out. We get to the mall, and much to our disappointment they’re closing early because it’s a holiday and the mall employees are tired of putting up with whiny customers trying to return gifts for their loved ones that they should’ve never bought in the first place. So we take the back way home.
Miriam calls Larry on the way there, finds out he’s actually awake, and he asks us if he wants to see a movie. We can’t agree on which one to see, so Miriam suggests we meet at the Hollywood Video to rent some flicks instead. Okay, to Hollywood Video we go.
(Minor digression for this leg of the story: There was this short Asian guy there in the following attire: black beanie, baggy khakis, t-shirt, sports jacket. Aaron’s attire: black beanie, baggie khakis, t-shirt, sports jacket. I’m in the drama section and I see something that prompts me to turn to the beanie-sporting dude beside me and ask if he still watches the History Channel. “Um, are you talking to me?” I turn around; this beanie dude is not my cousin. From here on after, Aaron’s lookalike avoids whatever section of the store I happen to be in. Okay, back to your regularly scheduled programming…)
Larry arrives and informs us he’s going to see Antwone Fisher. Rachel and I decide to tag along.
We’re in the theatre parking lot and somebody’s trying to flag my brother down. Enter Chris, Nicole and Stacy, who’ve come to see Catch Me If You Can. We all talk a little bit before parting ways to go get tickets. Unfortunately, Antwone Fisher is sold out. While we’re deciding what to do, Larry suddenly gets a call from Mike, who wants to know if my brother wants to join him in a game of pool. Rachel goes with him, and I stay behind after deciding to see the movie with Nicole, Stacy and Chris.
(Twenty minutes before the movie starts, Nicole locks her keys in her car. Stacy calls her mom for a ride, they go back to Nicole’s house to get the extra key to open up her car, they’re twenty minutes late.)
End of the story: I got to see a movie and friends I haven’t seen for two or three weeks, my sisters get to watch their rentals in the cozy warmth of the house, Larry gets his daily intake of cue and eight ball. Everyone goes home happy.
All this to prove networks work. Yeah!
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There’s somethin’ about the first day of the year that reminds me of every single time we have a rainy do-nothing day. Okay, okay, I guess we should give all them party-into-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning people a break since they have to make up for the hours of sleep they lost the previous night one way or another. Watching somebody fall asleep at the dining room table is just too funny, though.
And yeah, someone in my household is currently doing that. My brother has collapsed on his end of the table, in front of his computer. I’m not sure he’s even aware he keeps kicking the table, but I’m glad he’s not snoring, at least. Yet.
The moral of this story is to try to find a couch if you know yer tired. Feeling the table shake every time the sleeper’s foot connects with one of the table legs earns him a Look because suddenly I’ve got a scrawl of ink in some unintended spot in my notebook. (’Sides, ain’t the couch more comfortable than the table anyways?)
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My sister Murm (er, Miriam, that is) dropped a bombshell on me last week: she’d wanted to join the Army right after she’d graduated from high school. She admitted to me last night that that was partly why she’d graduated early - heck, she could’ve graduated with me, just to get out of high school faster. Her ultimate goal was to become a Green Beret.
And you know what? I think she would’ve made a very good one.
“Would’ve.” Why isn’t she in the Army, then? you ask. Two things: our mother, and old P.E. injuries (hairline fractures on one kneecap and hipbone) that could’ve worsened during the Army stint.
I still think she would’ve made a great Green Beret, though.
And speaking of the military, visit Operation Dear Abby and send an e-mail to a serviceman overseas. You’ll be glad you did.
(My thoughts go out to Luke, who, last time I checked, was stationed somewhere in Afghanistan. Buddy, you are always in my prayers.)
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