Well, Christmas was rockin' this year you know? I really had a good time. We opened our presents at 12;45 this morning. I got:
Jurassic Park Vol I
Jurassic Park Vol II
Bridget Jone's Diary
Maid in Manhatten
My Best Friend's Wedding
The Wedding Singer
The Star Wars Trilogy [THE ORIGINAL THREE]
George Strait's 50 #1s CD
FM Transmitter for my iPod
Car Charger for my iPod
Isotoner gloveers [the cool kind the chick uses to play piano with on the commericial]
a $15 car charger for my iPod
$200 in cash
and some other stuff but I'm good with that list. My familia left later in the day, and tomorrow's church so I'm gonna jet for now. Peace out!
Saturday, December 25, 2004
Friday, December 24, 2004
I Don't Believe It
I absolutely do not believe it, but it's true, it really is!!
IT'S SNOWING. Yes, I said SNOWING, here, in McAllen, Texas on Christmas. It hasn't snowed here since 1894, this is absolutely ridiculous. And I'm not talking about a tiny little collection of snow flakes or flurries. Oh no, I'm talking about a bonifide White Christmas. I'm not even sure I want to know what this is gonna look like in the morning. My brothers are having a SNOWBALL FIGHT outside and my dog is going biserk. Well, there you go guys, I'll check in laterz!
IT'S SNOWING. Yes, I said SNOWING, here, in McAllen, Texas on Christmas. It hasn't snowed here since 1894, this is absolutely ridiculous. And I'm not talking about a tiny little collection of snow flakes or flurries. Oh no, I'm talking about a bonifide White Christmas. I'm not even sure I want to know what this is gonna look like in the morning. My brothers are having a SNOWBALL FIGHT outside and my dog is going biserk. Well, there you go guys, I'll check in laterz!
Thursday, December 23, 2004
I Hate Tacky Christmas Lights
So I haven't had much time to update the past couple of days - been pretty exhausted. Last night [Wednesday] I got home from work, took a shower, and got dressed just as Andrew showed up. We bailed to Mr. Gatti's for a while where we watched "Ed, Edd, and Eddie". We frappin' love that show! Ironically, those three idgits represent Andrew and his two brothers, Scott and Brian. They aren't exaclty in permament spots though, they kind of rotate places amongst themselves based on whatever is going on at the moment.
So, we saw "A Series of Unfortunate Events" and it was pretty funny - Jim Carey is hysterical. :-) After that, we went to Starbucks where Andrew got into an argument with the first drive - thru sign [ the one WITHOUT a speaker...don't ask]. Promptly after Andrew resolved his inner issues, we went cruisin' for an hour-ish to scam on people's TACKY CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. Top violations are as follows:
1) Using multicolored icicle lights
2) Only wrapping 1/3 - 1/2 of your tree trunk, and neglegting the rest of the tree
3) Using only red lights on your Christmas tree, and opening your window
4) Having cardboard cut-outs of Betty-Boop in your front yard illuminated by Christmas lights [it was so awful you don't even understand]
5) Using a different kind of colored lights on each bush
6) Having cardboard cutouts of Santa at the beach in your front yard
7) Having neon nativity scenes
8) Having cardboard cutouts PERIOD in your front yard
9) AND MY ALL TIME FAVORITE: Barbershop styler trees done in red and white Christmas lights with flashing yellow, green, and blue rainbow lights on the roof. HIDEOUS.
I won $15 in Lotteria when I got home from my Dad and Joshua, so that made up for it.
TACKINESS IS SO OFFENSIVE
So, we saw "A Series of Unfortunate Events" and it was pretty funny - Jim Carey is hysterical. :-) After that, we went to Starbucks where Andrew got into an argument with the first drive - thru sign [ the one WITHOUT a speaker...don't ask]. Promptly after Andrew resolved his inner issues, we went cruisin' for an hour-ish to scam on people's TACKY CHRISTMAS LIGHTS. Top violations are as follows:
1) Using multicolored icicle lights
2) Only wrapping 1/3 - 1/2 of your tree trunk, and neglegting the rest of the tree
3) Using only red lights on your Christmas tree, and opening your window
4) Having cardboard cut-outs of Betty-Boop in your front yard illuminated by Christmas lights [it was so awful you don't even understand]
5) Using a different kind of colored lights on each bush
6) Having cardboard cutouts of Santa at the beach in your front yard
7) Having neon nativity scenes
8) Having cardboard cutouts PERIOD in your front yard
9) AND MY ALL TIME FAVORITE: Barbershop styler trees done in red and white Christmas lights with flashing yellow, green, and blue rainbow lights on the roof. HIDEOUS.
I won $15 in Lotteria when I got home from my Dad and Joshua, so that made up for it.
TACKINESS IS SO OFFENSIVE
Tuesday, December 21, 2004
This One's For You
So, as this vacation has been going by [1 and 1/2 weeks already, u know?], I've been wondering about what it is like to grow up. My mom and dad were married around my age, and soon after [a year or 2 or something] had me. Jon followed just 15 short months after. But, I still come home whenever I can over the holidays because I'm really close to my family, & I like it that way.
I guess what I'm really wondering, is when do you become to old to "come home" and when do you just start "visting"? My dad once told me that home is where you are, and where you can be - not some actual tangible place or location. And although my parents are pretty smart and between the both of them could probably figure out the answer to the Middle East Peace Crisis, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to disagree there. There's something about a place just being home that makes the difference. I really love this house. I've seen it under 22 different coats of paint at least. I've watched it go through different colored carpets to tile to wood. I've seen the kitchen and bathrooms redone, and the new den put in. Pets have lived [and some have died or "left us"] here: I'll never forget having to take my own beloved Siamesse cat to be put to sleep when she became mentally unstable.
I love my church home here; it's so much more than just a place I go. It really is my community of faith - I grew up in it, since I was 8 or so. Not a time goes by @ school when I don't hear the lyrics to "Santo! Santo! Santo!" in my head [in Spanish] when we sing "Holy! Holy! Holy!" I've been to camp with people here, and taken their kids to camp as I grew up and became a counselor. I've worked the sound booth, done MOPS, helped in the nursery & sung @ funerals. I love this place - a place where the people know me when I come home, and I can pick up right were I left off it seems. The people here truly love my family and myself with the love of the Lord. Sure, there are rough and tough times and some people with thorns on them, but what field of flowers is perfect? None, but this one is definately part of God's flower garden...
I've seen Joshua grow up here it seems, and Jon and I too. I've seen my parents grow older in age, but they always look the same to me u know? There's something about the Valley, I love it. It IS home.
A lot of kids my age [and face it people: we still are all kids for the most part] seem to have this desire to get away from their parents and siblings and other family. And if not that, at least they don't have any particular desire to come home or go home to them. I feel sorry for those people - it bothers me that other people weren't as lucky as I was - as I am. It is my earnest prayer, that I will be the kind of parent to my children, that my parents were to me. They did everything right - I'm a faithful Christian struggling daily to do what I hope is right. But you know what?-they taught me so well I just try to be like them. I'm pretty patient at school and with my Congressmen and my "Freshman" and my friends, I'll handle a lot. But you know what, I've never seen ANYONE as patient as my mom. If I had to spend my day with 20-30 fourth graders like the ones she's got, I'd be on the fast-track to nutz-ville. Kudos mom. U know what else? So, now I'm working from 8-5:30, and I'm tried as crud when I get home. At school I'm tired too, but there's something different now. When I come home at lunch, I'm cleaning up the mess I made in my room getting ready for work. After work, I just want to pass out. It's all I can do to work on a law school application or clean the kitchen or help with dinner, feed the dog or whatever. Now, here's my mom, up @ 5:30 in the morning coming home after school, and cleaning and shopping and cooking and cleaning some more and helping Joshua with his homework [and Jon and me in our day] and decorating and writing cards to people and making presents and sewing and teaching Sunday school and spending time with my dad and like NINE GAGILLION other things, and she never seems to miss a beat. And, when I'm too cranky to do one little thing, she doesn't burn me up with laser eyes, she gives me what I deserve. Man, way to be mom. Way to be. [Then, she'll talk to my aunt, uncle, and grandma too, and cheer them up - like always.]
Then there's my dad. I'm telling you man, my dad knows EVERYTHING [and perhaps his worst and only fault, is making sure you KNOW IT when you CLEARLY seem to know NOTHING.] My dad doesn't just know stuff though - HOW TOOs, he knows WHATs and WHYs. My dad is the kind of person, who seems to command attention. He doesn't say much you know, when he's in a room full of people discussing something. What I mean is, he doesn't talk too much - doesn't make sure everyone knows how smart he is. He ponders, listens, and weighs. But when he does talk, everyone [except sometimes his stupid kids, like me] listens. He's wise u know? And what a source for wisdom. I ask my dad's advice on so many things and I trust him. I know he knows because he just, he just does. If I can grow up to be half as Jedi-Knight as my dad, man I'd be rollin' in the coolness.
My mom and dad are dedicated too, let me tell you. Choir concert, tennis tournament, soccer team: you name it and they're there. At least one of my parents have seen EVERYTHING I've ever done, and my brothers too. And besides that, they were always ready to make a sacrifice so Jon could have those basketball shoes, I could have that dress, or Joshua could have that camp. If we wanted it really badly, and especially if we needed it or it would help us as we grew up, they would do EVERYTHING to make it happen. When we were younger and money was MUCH tighter, they'd cut back on something so I could have new shoes for my 8th grade dance, or so I wouldn't be the only one at Nationals without money to spend or a new suit. They probably think we don't know, or don't care. But I'm telling you now Mom and Dad, if you're reading this, we know. We care, and we wish there was something we could do to give it all back.
Thank you guys, also, for saying "no". There have been so many things I have wanted, and when you said "no" I thought my life was over, and you were just too dumb to know how brilliant I was. [Sound familiar to all you fellow college students out there having epiphanies??? yah...i know it does so don't EVEN try it] But you know what, you were right, and I was wrong. I am so sorry I didn't know that then, but I do now. I guess if I knew that then, I wouldn't have needed parents. But I did and I still do. You raised me right. Mom, I had no business wearing make-up when I was 13, you were right. Thank you for letting me when I was 14 for nationals [see, I was young for my age - most girls after our Freshman year in High School were 15 or 16, but I was still 14, even in the beginning of June. I had made it to Nationals in Debate and that second week in June I'd be competing against girls and guys who were 18 or even 19 and I looked like a child. I had to wear make-up to compete on their level.] But thanks for mostly letting me wait until I was 15. I didn't grow up too fast, and I'm thankful. Dad, you were right in making me drive that ugly Toyota, and taking driving from you. As much as I fought it, I'm a klutz and my hand/eye coordination skils are NILL. You were right to make me learn from you over a period of months, and take the test slowly. Thank you for making me learn and listen when I was being a brat. I'm a really, really good driver now [even though I still can't walk and not spill stuff OFF the road and OUT of the car], and you teaching me to drive so well saved my life last February, and Josh's and Melanie's and Kathleen's. I'm sure their parents thank you too.
Thank you guys, for making the hard choices. Thank you, for finding the balance between making us work for it, and letting us enjoy it. We didn't have to work in high school, even when we WANTED TO, because you knew, we'd be working for the rest of our lives. We just wanted the money to have more stuff - movies and CDs and trips to PATOs. We didnt' need that. We didn't need the stress or the horror of being sucked into the cycle of working for what we didn't need. We grew up appreciating work ethic, and the value of money. We grew up knowing that our job as students was that, and whatever we NEEDED we had. Thank you for that. I had a good time growing up, thank you.
Thank you for finding the balance between two clashing cultures. I always thought that I was lost somewhere, like that movie "in translation" beause Jon, Joshua, and I are different from both of you. We're half and it's hard. But you know something - you showed me the answer. It was there the whole time. Family and God come first - your culture comes out of there first. The rest is elevator music. Thanks dad for teaching me Spanish, and thanks mom, for teaching me it's rude to use it to exclude others from understanding you. Thanks mom for making enchilladas and thanks dad for letting me get my hair cut before I was 15 [because at the rate my hair was growing multiplied by it's thickness, I wouldn't have been able to walk!!!] Thanks for the songs in both languages and celtic music. Thanks for both of my extended families, rich in culture with disclaimers: I'm me - not them or you or a check-box on the census. I'm a child of God and your daughter and whatever I want because you taught me to decide.
Thanks for teaching me discipline. I knew, when I made a C in Medieval and Renn. French Literature, that you'd understand. I knew that you would know how hard I tried, because you taught me that. You taught me to do my homework and do it right and well. But you know something else, you two also taught me, that it's ok to go to sleep if I'm tired, and it's ok not to be good at everything. You didn't expect an "A" unless that was within my reach. If I could do my best and get it, that was what I should strive for. But if not, that's ok too. You taught me a very valuable lesson. It's a lesson I know, and try to pass on while struggling to remember it myself: everyone is different. Just because you expected different things from each of your kids didn't mean you loved one of us less or more: it meant you loved all of us enough to care who we were as people. So, I've learned from you people and God first, stuff, money and grades later.
Thanks for listening to me read outloud, to my love for music, and my random stories. Thanks for letting me love Law & Order, and for FINALLY saying I was old enough to watch cheers. Thanks for screening EVERY SINGLE BOY I've ever gone out with: thanx for putting your foot down. I know how important what I read, watch and read is: and who I do those things with. You made the difference in how I make my life's choices.
Thanks for supporting me when I quit cheerleading, track, tennis, soccer and volleyball for speech and debate through the years. Thanks for being there when you had no idea WHY I needed ANOTHER TUB or SIX MORE 31-pocket xpandos @ $15 each, or why Cindy had to be picked up with me in Mercedes, or why it was ok to miss a week of school because of the stomach flu but catch the plane Thursday afternoon to State anyways. You have no idea how much debate means to me, but you care as if you knew. It's wonderful and thanx to you, I know the trophies don't make me who I am, and sometiimes I think I'm the only person at tournaments who knows that.
Bottom line? I know that some people my age have kids, and get married, and they're certainly old enough too I suppose. If they are, they are, u know? What I mean to say is, I've reached the point where I know that I behave differently from other people at school. I'm self-sufficient, and I'm gonna make it. You gave me that. I could do it on my own, all alone and I would be ok. I wouldn't be lost or mugged. I can read a map, shop, cook, clean, take care of my car, sew my clothes, read good books, study, and manage a house. [I'm still working on the checkbook thing...:-)] You know what though, I WON'T do it on my own. That's my choice now. So I hope you guys are all right with that. I'll always call you mom on Saturday, and dad, I'll always call you before work on Tuesday. I'll always be home for Christmas. I'll always take care of you and help you and do what I can, ok? I'll tell you right now, a Human Rights Attorney for the government doesn't make beacoups of money. But I'd give you every paycheck I ever got if I thought that would make up for what I've put you through, and what you've done for me. I can admit without being obnoxious, that I'm pretty bright. The problem is, I was too brilliant for my own good. I learned too many words too fast and learned to read to early: I was precocious. My whole life, especially when I was younger [baby teenager], has been me trying to catch up with my brain. But you guys put up with a 3 year old who had a bigger and more annoying vocabulary than most kids twice her age, a 5 year old who thought she had a constitutional right to Fraggle Rock, and an 11 year old who knew the Bill of Rights by heart and SWORE that the 1st amendment applied to her right to listen to a radio station she shouldn't be listening too. You know, I've actually considered working in a corporate [immigration and labor law mabye] or a defense law firm for a while, to make ACTUAL MONEY. And you want the truth...it's not for me, it's for you. I want to buy you that house you've always wanted Mom, and a life-time supply of Pier One things and paint from Dutch Boy. I want you to have a room like Rachel Ashwell in Shabby Sheek, so you can do whatever you want whenever you want. I want you to have your own antique stores, and I don't want you EVER to worry about what will happen. Dad, I want you to have that barracuda you want, and I want to help you take care of Abuela. I want to pay off your medical bills. And when the time comes, I want you to have the best transplant surgeon money can buy. I want you to have every gangsta movie ever, and a permanent pass to the movies [one for you and one for you movie buddies - acie and mike and etc.]. I'd buy you a kidney if I could dad. I love you both so much.
Just remember this then, ok? Maybe I can't buy you what you want, but I'll alway love you and always be home with you when the time is for family. And every person in slavery I pray for, and every child prostitute I weep for, and every SINGLE PERSON I free from the bondage of injustice is not just for each one of them, and because of God, it's because of you. I love everyone because you taught me to love EVERYONE. I always cry and even though that makes me sensitive, it's because you taught me that every little choice matters. So every time I see a picture of a child who is oppressed I will cry. But my tears mean my heart is moved and I will fight for them, and maybe I wouldn't if I didn't cry. And maybe I wouldn't cry if you had not shown me to care and be vigilliant always, and told me it was ok to care. I will be dedicated and never give up on these people not because I think I'm so great and can help, but because I know how great I'm not. I know that I am nothing without Him, and so that could easily have been me. It is obvious what's right, and you always taught me to find it, know it, and do it. I won't try, I just will. I will love this people, like you loved me and everyone you ever knew or met. I will fight with all the determination you show in everthing you do that's right. I will never give up and I will most of all trust in Him who will help me, just like you taught me. Thank you for making my dream come true; I'm an angel. See, in God's word, he says he will hear the cries of the oppressed, and he will save them. But, the scriptures say that instead of just doing it himself, God will send his servants and messengers to save the chained, and the enslaved, the widow and the orphan and the oppressed. God will call some people to deliver those in his name - angels of justice. You have raised me to grow up loving and serving so much that I just cannot turn away from the injustice, not when God has blessed me with the ability to help. I'm an angel of justice [Layne first called me that, showing me what the scriptures said about the subject], and I'm so excited. Remember mom, when you said not to be so concerned with injustice that i miss the justice? I won't, I'm not. You guys taught me that everything around me is improtant, and more stuff isn't. That being said, I'm so happy and appreciative of every freedom I have and the beautiful flowers growing in the yard and my brothers and just everything, that I want to get what you've given me for everyone. I'll live my life seeking Justice, for God, because of you.
I know I probably won't come back to stay after I graduate law school, this just isn't where I'm meant to be, because more than likely the kind of law I want to practice and need to practice won't find me here. But I will always think of it as home, and someday I'd like to come here to stay.
So, as I make my way there you two: thank you.
This one's for you.
John 3:30
Issiah 1:17
I guess what I'm really wondering, is when do you become to old to "come home" and when do you just start "visting"? My dad once told me that home is where you are, and where you can be - not some actual tangible place or location. And although my parents are pretty smart and between the both of them could probably figure out the answer to the Middle East Peace Crisis, I'm afraid I'm gonna have to disagree there. There's something about a place just being home that makes the difference. I really love this house. I've seen it under 22 different coats of paint at least. I've watched it go through different colored carpets to tile to wood. I've seen the kitchen and bathrooms redone, and the new den put in. Pets have lived [and some have died or "left us"] here: I'll never forget having to take my own beloved Siamesse cat to be put to sleep when she became mentally unstable.
I love my church home here; it's so much more than just a place I go. It really is my community of faith - I grew up in it, since I was 8 or so. Not a time goes by @ school when I don't hear the lyrics to "Santo! Santo! Santo!" in my head [in Spanish] when we sing "Holy! Holy! Holy!" I've been to camp with people here, and taken their kids to camp as I grew up and became a counselor. I've worked the sound booth, done MOPS, helped in the nursery & sung @ funerals. I love this place - a place where the people know me when I come home, and I can pick up right were I left off it seems. The people here truly love my family and myself with the love of the Lord. Sure, there are rough and tough times and some people with thorns on them, but what field of flowers is perfect? None, but this one is definately part of God's flower garden...
I've seen Joshua grow up here it seems, and Jon and I too. I've seen my parents grow older in age, but they always look the same to me u know? There's something about the Valley, I love it. It IS home.
A lot of kids my age [and face it people: we still are all kids for the most part] seem to have this desire to get away from their parents and siblings and other family. And if not that, at least they don't have any particular desire to come home or go home to them. I feel sorry for those people - it bothers me that other people weren't as lucky as I was - as I am. It is my earnest prayer, that I will be the kind of parent to my children, that my parents were to me. They did everything right - I'm a faithful Christian struggling daily to do what I hope is right. But you know what?-they taught me so well I just try to be like them. I'm pretty patient at school and with my Congressmen and my "Freshman" and my friends, I'll handle a lot. But you know what, I've never seen ANYONE as patient as my mom. If I had to spend my day with 20-30 fourth graders like the ones she's got, I'd be on the fast-track to nutz-ville. Kudos mom. U know what else? So, now I'm working from 8-5:30, and I'm tried as crud when I get home. At school I'm tired too, but there's something different now. When I come home at lunch, I'm cleaning up the mess I made in my room getting ready for work. After work, I just want to pass out. It's all I can do to work on a law school application or clean the kitchen or help with dinner, feed the dog or whatever. Now, here's my mom, up @ 5:30 in the morning coming home after school, and cleaning and shopping and cooking and cleaning some more and helping Joshua with his homework [and Jon and me in our day] and decorating and writing cards to people and making presents and sewing and teaching Sunday school and spending time with my dad and like NINE GAGILLION other things, and she never seems to miss a beat. And, when I'm too cranky to do one little thing, she doesn't burn me up with laser eyes, she gives me what I deserve. Man, way to be mom. Way to be. [Then, she'll talk to my aunt, uncle, and grandma too, and cheer them up - like always.]
Then there's my dad. I'm telling you man, my dad knows EVERYTHING [and perhaps his worst and only fault, is making sure you KNOW IT when you CLEARLY seem to know NOTHING.] My dad doesn't just know stuff though - HOW TOOs, he knows WHATs and WHYs. My dad is the kind of person, who seems to command attention. He doesn't say much you know, when he's in a room full of people discussing something. What I mean is, he doesn't talk too much - doesn't make sure everyone knows how smart he is. He ponders, listens, and weighs. But when he does talk, everyone [except sometimes his stupid kids, like me] listens. He's wise u know? And what a source for wisdom. I ask my dad's advice on so many things and I trust him. I know he knows because he just, he just does. If I can grow up to be half as Jedi-Knight as my dad, man I'd be rollin' in the coolness.
My mom and dad are dedicated too, let me tell you. Choir concert, tennis tournament, soccer team: you name it and they're there. At least one of my parents have seen EVERYTHING I've ever done, and my brothers too. And besides that, they were always ready to make a sacrifice so Jon could have those basketball shoes, I could have that dress, or Joshua could have that camp. If we wanted it really badly, and especially if we needed it or it would help us as we grew up, they would do EVERYTHING to make it happen. When we were younger and money was MUCH tighter, they'd cut back on something so I could have new shoes for my 8th grade dance, or so I wouldn't be the only one at Nationals without money to spend or a new suit. They probably think we don't know, or don't care. But I'm telling you now Mom and Dad, if you're reading this, we know. We care, and we wish there was something we could do to give it all back.
Thank you guys, also, for saying "no". There have been so many things I have wanted, and when you said "no" I thought my life was over, and you were just too dumb to know how brilliant I was. [Sound familiar to all you fellow college students out there having epiphanies??? yah...i know it does so don't EVEN try it] But you know what, you were right, and I was wrong. I am so sorry I didn't know that then, but I do now. I guess if I knew that then, I wouldn't have needed parents. But I did and I still do. You raised me right. Mom, I had no business wearing make-up when I was 13, you were right. Thank you for letting me when I was 14 for nationals [see, I was young for my age - most girls after our Freshman year in High School were 15 or 16, but I was still 14, even in the beginning of June. I had made it to Nationals in Debate and that second week in June I'd be competing against girls and guys who were 18 or even 19 and I looked like a child. I had to wear make-up to compete on their level.] But thanks for mostly letting me wait until I was 15. I didn't grow up too fast, and I'm thankful. Dad, you were right in making me drive that ugly Toyota, and taking driving from you. As much as I fought it, I'm a klutz and my hand/eye coordination skils are NILL. You were right to make me learn from you over a period of months, and take the test slowly. Thank you for making me learn and listen when I was being a brat. I'm a really, really good driver now [even though I still can't walk and not spill stuff OFF the road and OUT of the car], and you teaching me to drive so well saved my life last February, and Josh's and Melanie's and Kathleen's. I'm sure their parents thank you too.
Thank you guys, for making the hard choices. Thank you, for finding the balance between making us work for it, and letting us enjoy it. We didn't have to work in high school, even when we WANTED TO, because you knew, we'd be working for the rest of our lives. We just wanted the money to have more stuff - movies and CDs and trips to PATOs. We didnt' need that. We didn't need the stress or the horror of being sucked into the cycle of working for what we didn't need. We grew up appreciating work ethic, and the value of money. We grew up knowing that our job as students was that, and whatever we NEEDED we had. Thank you for that. I had a good time growing up, thank you.
Thank you for finding the balance between two clashing cultures. I always thought that I was lost somewhere, like that movie "in translation" beause Jon, Joshua, and I are different from both of you. We're half and it's hard. But you know something - you showed me the answer. It was there the whole time. Family and God come first - your culture comes out of there first. The rest is elevator music. Thanks dad for teaching me Spanish, and thanks mom, for teaching me it's rude to use it to exclude others from understanding you. Thanks mom for making enchilladas and thanks dad for letting me get my hair cut before I was 15 [because at the rate my hair was growing multiplied by it's thickness, I wouldn't have been able to walk!!!] Thanks for the songs in both languages and celtic music. Thanks for both of my extended families, rich in culture with disclaimers: I'm me - not them or you or a check-box on the census. I'm a child of God and your daughter and whatever I want because you taught me to decide.
Thanks for teaching me discipline. I knew, when I made a C in Medieval and Renn. French Literature, that you'd understand. I knew that you would know how hard I tried, because you taught me that. You taught me to do my homework and do it right and well. But you know something else, you two also taught me, that it's ok to go to sleep if I'm tired, and it's ok not to be good at everything. You didn't expect an "A" unless that was within my reach. If I could do my best and get it, that was what I should strive for. But if not, that's ok too. You taught me a very valuable lesson. It's a lesson I know, and try to pass on while struggling to remember it myself: everyone is different. Just because you expected different things from each of your kids didn't mean you loved one of us less or more: it meant you loved all of us enough to care who we were as people. So, I've learned from you people and God first, stuff, money and grades later.
Thanks for listening to me read outloud, to my love for music, and my random stories. Thanks for letting me love Law & Order, and for FINALLY saying I was old enough to watch cheers. Thanks for screening EVERY SINGLE BOY I've ever gone out with: thanx for putting your foot down. I know how important what I read, watch and read is: and who I do those things with. You made the difference in how I make my life's choices.
Thanks for supporting me when I quit cheerleading, track, tennis, soccer and volleyball for speech and debate through the years. Thanks for being there when you had no idea WHY I needed ANOTHER TUB or SIX MORE 31-pocket xpandos @ $15 each, or why Cindy had to be picked up with me in Mercedes, or why it was ok to miss a week of school because of the stomach flu but catch the plane Thursday afternoon to State anyways. You have no idea how much debate means to me, but you care as if you knew. It's wonderful and thanx to you, I know the trophies don't make me who I am, and sometiimes I think I'm the only person at tournaments who knows that.
Bottom line? I know that some people my age have kids, and get married, and they're certainly old enough too I suppose. If they are, they are, u know? What I mean to say is, I've reached the point where I know that I behave differently from other people at school. I'm self-sufficient, and I'm gonna make it. You gave me that. I could do it on my own, all alone and I would be ok. I wouldn't be lost or mugged. I can read a map, shop, cook, clean, take care of my car, sew my clothes, read good books, study, and manage a house. [I'm still working on the checkbook thing...:-)] You know what though, I WON'T do it on my own. That's my choice now. So I hope you guys are all right with that. I'll always call you mom on Saturday, and dad, I'll always call you before work on Tuesday. I'll always be home for Christmas. I'll always take care of you and help you and do what I can, ok? I'll tell you right now, a Human Rights Attorney for the government doesn't make beacoups of money. But I'd give you every paycheck I ever got if I thought that would make up for what I've put you through, and what you've done for me. I can admit without being obnoxious, that I'm pretty bright. The problem is, I was too brilliant for my own good. I learned too many words too fast and learned to read to early: I was precocious. My whole life, especially when I was younger [baby teenager], has been me trying to catch up with my brain. But you guys put up with a 3 year old who had a bigger and more annoying vocabulary than most kids twice her age, a 5 year old who thought she had a constitutional right to Fraggle Rock, and an 11 year old who knew the Bill of Rights by heart and SWORE that the 1st amendment applied to her right to listen to a radio station she shouldn't be listening too. You know, I've actually considered working in a corporate [immigration and labor law mabye] or a defense law firm for a while, to make ACTUAL MONEY. And you want the truth...it's not for me, it's for you. I want to buy you that house you've always wanted Mom, and a life-time supply of Pier One things and paint from Dutch Boy. I want you to have a room like Rachel Ashwell in Shabby Sheek, so you can do whatever you want whenever you want. I want you to have your own antique stores, and I don't want you EVER to worry about what will happen. Dad, I want you to have that barracuda you want, and I want to help you take care of Abuela. I want to pay off your medical bills. And when the time comes, I want you to have the best transplant surgeon money can buy. I want you to have every gangsta movie ever, and a permanent pass to the movies [one for you and one for you movie buddies - acie and mike and etc.]. I'd buy you a kidney if I could dad. I love you both so much.
Just remember this then, ok? Maybe I can't buy you what you want, but I'll alway love you and always be home with you when the time is for family. And every person in slavery I pray for, and every child prostitute I weep for, and every SINGLE PERSON I free from the bondage of injustice is not just for each one of them, and because of God, it's because of you. I love everyone because you taught me to love EVERYONE. I always cry and even though that makes me sensitive, it's because you taught me that every little choice matters. So every time I see a picture of a child who is oppressed I will cry. But my tears mean my heart is moved and I will fight for them, and maybe I wouldn't if I didn't cry. And maybe I wouldn't cry if you had not shown me to care and be vigilliant always, and told me it was ok to care. I will be dedicated and never give up on these people not because I think I'm so great and can help, but because I know how great I'm not. I know that I am nothing without Him, and so that could easily have been me. It is obvious what's right, and you always taught me to find it, know it, and do it. I won't try, I just will. I will love this people, like you loved me and everyone you ever knew or met. I will fight with all the determination you show in everthing you do that's right. I will never give up and I will most of all trust in Him who will help me, just like you taught me. Thank you for making my dream come true; I'm an angel. See, in God's word, he says he will hear the cries of the oppressed, and he will save them. But, the scriptures say that instead of just doing it himself, God will send his servants and messengers to save the chained, and the enslaved, the widow and the orphan and the oppressed. God will call some people to deliver those in his name - angels of justice. You have raised me to grow up loving and serving so much that I just cannot turn away from the injustice, not when God has blessed me with the ability to help. I'm an angel of justice [Layne first called me that, showing me what the scriptures said about the subject], and I'm so excited. Remember mom, when you said not to be so concerned with injustice that i miss the justice? I won't, I'm not. You guys taught me that everything around me is improtant, and more stuff isn't. That being said, I'm so happy and appreciative of every freedom I have and the beautiful flowers growing in the yard and my brothers and just everything, that I want to get what you've given me for everyone. I'll live my life seeking Justice, for God, because of you.
I know I probably won't come back to stay after I graduate law school, this just isn't where I'm meant to be, because more than likely the kind of law I want to practice and need to practice won't find me here. But I will always think of it as home, and someday I'd like to come here to stay.
So, as I make my way there you two: thank you.
This one's for you.
John 3:30
Issiah 1:17
Here's A Thought...
Ok, so I have a guestbook on my blog, but onlly my cousin and myself have signed it. I have had over 200 visitors here since Thanksgiving Vacation, but NO ONE WILL SIGN MY FLIPPIN' BLOG. It is muy irritating, k?/ So SIGN IT ALREADY. That is all.
Rockin' @ Atlas & Hall
So work this week is way more fun that last week was. Luke is back from the University of Arizona, and Chago's sister is here from St. Edwards [Ester, your shoes rule!], and Dameon and Sam are off from McHi, so we're having a blast again. The old school crew only needs good ol' "Dubbya" to get us back to the way we used to be.
The Cast***
Hector: The Head File Clerk, 30 years old, Catholic and Mexican [and when I say Mexican, I mean MEXIcan-Cheech and Chong + a Ghetto Pick-Up + Luther Vandross + a funny laugh]. He's hillarious. He cracks down if you're lazy, but he's totally cool.
Norma [Mother of Sam}: Secondary file clerk. She's sweet and kinda quiet, and really hard working.
Chago: Secondary file clerk. He's 25 and is in school part time - he supports his Grandma and is helping to put his sister through college @ St. Edwards. He's quiet and hard-working. We call him "the Zen Master". Picture this:
*Luke: "Oh NOOOO!!! There are at least 25 FAXES in each machine and the confirmation box is overflowing, the copy jobs are stacked to the cieling and the mail has to be metered and second-checked. OH NO, ROSA WANTS ANOTHER EMERGENCY FAX. Wait, Anne just called and she's mad - WHERE'S THAT AFFIDAVIT FOR REX? CRAP - MARIJKE IS COMMING! OH NO! I'm all alone and it's already 4:25"
*[Walking in from running an errand]Chago: "Hey, go take this fax down the hall, and I'll handle this."
When Luke comes back, everything is done, 4.62 [we timed Chago once - just kidding] minutes later. TA - DA, Chago the Zen Master.
Sam: @ McHi, Sam is a character - he's got quite a mouth on him and is kinda spacey, u know the type. He's really easy going for the most part though.
Luke: Luke cracks me up - he's a Freshman @ the University of Arizona, and he's like the funniest guy I've ever met. He's very Connan O'Brien and he, Dameon & I pretty bunch bounce comments off one another all day and entertain the entire file clerk crew [the FCC 2623] and the FLEET OF SECRETARIES who work at this RIDICULOUSLY LARGE LAW FIRM.
Dameon: Hey, this guy is my buddy, is @ McHi and he helped me close files last summer. He is huge [six foot three and a solid 245 lbs] - a football player, and he good easily beat up a lion or an iguana [a lion has prowess over an iguana, or a monkey]. He and I love to score El Pato on break, under the code name "Larry".
Janet: Office manager. In an office with like 27 attorneys and a herd of secretaries and legal assistants, she's like for real "IT". Unless you're a "SPECIAL PARTNER" she OWNS YOU. She's tiny but scarier than a democratic majority in the house & senate and I swear she could run the pentagon. She has this thing about safety hazards ['DAMEON, pick up that paper clip on the floor, it's a safety hazard." "Luke, move that box, it's a safety hazard." "Sam, that child is a safety hazard - DESTROY IT."
So, in the mornings, Sam shreds in the file room with his headphones out, completely zonked. Dameon, Luke, and I go back to the old STCC building the Law Firm owns behind the massive building they actually have their offices and law library in. D & I close files and Luke shreds while we jam to my iPod jimmy-rigged to a stereo. Sometimes, we wonder what happened to Ashlee, who just disappeared a month ago...hmm [Hector says she got involved in an underground Chinesse boxing league].
Usually, we take our 15 minute break [honestly, the 30 minutes we SEEM to have spent in the break room is a figmant of your imagination, I promise...] around 10.
After lunch [which Hector gives to us 15 minutes early unless you're Daniel Crane, who isn't home this vacation], Dameon and I close files for about an hour, then head over to file room to help with rush copy jobs, general refiling and FAXES [DOOM DOOM DOOM!!!!! - insert scary music here]. Luke joins us @3:30 when Sam goes home with his mom [they open the office @ 7:30].
Today was pretty funny as days go, topic of the day: why Star Wars episode one is pathetic. More later.
Secret Squirrel Out
The Cast***
Hector: The Head File Clerk, 30 years old, Catholic and Mexican [and when I say Mexican, I mean MEXIcan-Cheech and Chong + a Ghetto Pick-Up + Luther Vandross + a funny laugh]. He's hillarious. He cracks down if you're lazy, but he's totally cool.
Norma [Mother of Sam}: Secondary file clerk. She's sweet and kinda quiet, and really hard working.
Chago: Secondary file clerk. He's 25 and is in school part time - he supports his Grandma and is helping to put his sister through college @ St. Edwards. He's quiet and hard-working. We call him "the Zen Master". Picture this:
*Luke: "Oh NOOOO!!! There are at least 25 FAXES in each machine and the confirmation box is overflowing, the copy jobs are stacked to the cieling and the mail has to be metered and second-checked. OH NO, ROSA WANTS ANOTHER EMERGENCY FAX. Wait, Anne just called and she's mad - WHERE'S THAT AFFIDAVIT FOR REX? CRAP - MARIJKE IS COMMING! OH NO! I'm all alone and it's already 4:25"
*[Walking in from running an errand]Chago: "Hey, go take this fax down the hall, and I'll handle this."
When Luke comes back, everything is done, 4.62 [we timed Chago once - just kidding] minutes later. TA - DA, Chago the Zen Master.
Sam: @ McHi, Sam is a character - he's got quite a mouth on him and is kinda spacey, u know the type. He's really easy going for the most part though.
Luke: Luke cracks me up - he's a Freshman @ the University of Arizona, and he's like the funniest guy I've ever met. He's very Connan O'Brien and he, Dameon & I pretty bunch bounce comments off one another all day and entertain the entire file clerk crew [the FCC 2623] and the FLEET OF SECRETARIES who work at this RIDICULOUSLY LARGE LAW FIRM.
Dameon: Hey, this guy is my buddy, is @ McHi and he helped me close files last summer. He is huge [six foot three and a solid 245 lbs] - a football player, and he good easily beat up a lion or an iguana [a lion has prowess over an iguana, or a monkey]. He and I love to score El Pato on break, under the code name "Larry".
Janet: Office manager. In an office with like 27 attorneys and a herd of secretaries and legal assistants, she's like for real "IT". Unless you're a "SPECIAL PARTNER" she OWNS YOU. She's tiny but scarier than a democratic majority in the house & senate and I swear she could run the pentagon. She has this thing about safety hazards ['DAMEON, pick up that paper clip on the floor, it's a safety hazard." "Luke, move that box, it's a safety hazard." "Sam, that child is a safety hazard - DESTROY IT."
So, in the mornings, Sam shreds in the file room with his headphones out, completely zonked. Dameon, Luke, and I go back to the old STCC building the Law Firm owns behind the massive building they actually have their offices and law library in. D & I close files and Luke shreds while we jam to my iPod jimmy-rigged to a stereo. Sometimes, we wonder what happened to Ashlee, who just disappeared a month ago...hmm [Hector says she got involved in an underground Chinesse boxing league].
Usually, we take our 15 minute break [honestly, the 30 minutes we SEEM to have spent in the break room is a figmant of your imagination, I promise...] around 10.
After lunch [which Hector gives to us 15 minutes early unless you're Daniel Crane, who isn't home this vacation], Dameon and I close files for about an hour, then head over to file room to help with rush copy jobs, general refiling and FAXES [DOOM DOOM DOOM!!!!! - insert scary music here]. Luke joins us @3:30 when Sam goes home with his mom [they open the office @ 7:30].
Today was pretty funny as days go, topic of the day: why Star Wars episode one is pathetic. More later.
Secret Squirrel Out
Sunday, December 19, 2004
Legally Blonde and Vivian
You know what people? I have recently watched Legally Blonde with my parents, and I have to say, my favorite character is Vivian. The whole time you're watching this movie, you're meant to think badly of her, that she's evil and she's a man-stealer and a jerk. But you know what, I think she deserves major props because she had to make the hardest decision there is: dump your man and be friends with his ex-girlfriend - YOUR MAN IS NO GOOD. Notice throughout the movie, she is realizing that Warner is a jerk, such as the time he tells Elle to only think about herself and not to worry if she gave Brooke her word or not. Basically, it took guts for Vivian to tell Warner tht he really wasn't what she once though he was, and definately not what he thought he was. She sands up for herself and makes friends with Elle. That's guts right there.
She's my favorite because it's hard to say that your boyfriend/fiance isn't worth your time of day. It creates a feeling of wasted time and effort in you, and makes you feel mean. It's not easy, but she did it. She gets five daises [because I like daises more than stars.]
She's my favorite because it's hard to say that your boyfriend/fiance isn't worth your time of day. It creates a feeling of wasted time and effort in you, and makes you feel mean. It's not easy, but she did it. She gets five daises [because I like daises more than stars.]
Tirade
So let's talk about today's adventure. This is my blog, so if you don't like the following, get your own.
It REALLY REALLY annoys me when people think that they are the ONLY ONES who are entitled to be obnoxious or have their own opinion. Furthermore, it really bugs me when they would rather demean your response patterns than discuss the issue, because they know
1) They can never win [if changing your mind is their goal]
2) They realize the futility of their arguments.
Well, it stands to reason, that if you want to start an argument or discuss something controversial, you should limit the frame of reference and audience to those with whom you'd like to discuss it. [Most of you remember the Jeff McCain/Jake Roseberry e-mail circulations of 2004??] If you don't want to have a discussion with more than one person on an issue, a market place of ideas if you will [props to John Stuart Mill, the man was pretty smart u know?], THEN DON'T SEND AN EMAIL TO A BUNCH OF PEOPLE. You start the discussion, you pick the audience, you have infinate prep time. You don't want them to hear my reply - YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE INCLUDED THEM IN THE CONVERSATION. PERIOD.
Bugs me, just bugs me.
Furthermore, you want to make me read e-mails about how we should all be so quick to reply to your original e-mails, and you want to start the incinuation that one of your friends is doing well to pay you more attention, then you best be ready for a reply. It's not obnoxious or evil - it's in jest - the same as your original statement. DON'T tell me how upset someone else is because of my response - they have a problem - let them come and talk to me.
Bugs me, just bugs me.
So u know what, to those of you who are concerned with this, I'm sorry if you're upset about my attempt to continue your own conversation patterns, and I'm sorry if it embarrasses you to have my reply circulated amongst those who were privy to the original conversation. If it truly is a problem, then I'm sorry becuase I don't like confrontation and I definately don't like to upset my friends. Sorry. I'm sorry because it upset you. But don't misunderstand me, my interpretation still stands.
Finally, I think I've had enough of this conversation period. I won't change my mind on race relations and that's it. Am I closed-minded - maybe. Or maybe, closed-mindedness is the assumption that just because I'm a first generation american I have to think a certain way, and that I have to join some over-inflated, self-important, underground minority revoltuion. Closed-mindedness is a double standard that only I can care about my being hispanic, or black, or native american, or Irish, but if anyone else does - WATCH OUT!! DARN THOSE RACISTS! Close mindedness comes from saying that only I can make deroggatory comments about my ethnic group, but OTHER PEOPLE WHO AREN'T LIKE ME can't. Close-mindedness is saying racisim is bad and evil without recognizing that every time I group people into "white people" as a category and decide they are all the same and all against me, I am practicing the worst kind of racism there is : the kind with a double standard that only goes to display my ignorance and willingness to incite passion in the minds of others. Real closed-mindedness is when I am allowed and even encouraged to associate myself with people who are the same color as me or the same ethnic group as me because that means they are like me and will be my friends - by my "own people"! And then, as a group, we decry segregation. Ironic, isn't it?
Finally, closed-mindedness is that perception that all statistical minorities which do NOT subscribe to the idea that oppression is huge and alive today in all aspects of life, and that outrage is the answer are sell-outs, dumb, or "missing the point". I think it is you who miss the point, oh race-monger. Untill you quit telling everyone what color you are, and how important that is to who you are, no one will be able to forget, because YOU won't let them. The only reason your race, heritage or ethnic group works against you is because YOU DEMAND THAT IT DOES. Let them be and they'll let you be. And if you can't, let me be. Because I'm very busy relying on other dictators of my fortune, because I don't believe in fortune, and I don't believe in chance. Life isn't fair, or didn't you get the memo? I'll get you another copy. But I'll tell you something, it's unfair TO A LOT OF PEOPLE, ALL AROUND THE WORLD. And until you are being forced to work as a prostitute at the age of 9 with 15 customers a day, I don't want to hear about it, ok?
So what, the lady at the Minnessotta airport wanted to know my country of origin, and so what if she didn't believe me when I told her America? Yah, that sux. And yah, it angers me and hurt my feelings. But you know what, she did it to protect this country from threats from abroad, and I'm darn lucky to sit in my house and tell you on my brand new iMac over broadband internet al about it, and not get thrown in prison. Shoot, I'm lucky to be INSIDE instead of UNDER A TREE like my dad was when he was little in Mexico before he came here. Let me give you a piece of advice, it's stupid to come to America to continue to live in Mexico. So don't come here to live in your own prison, and then complain to me about it. When you quit oppressing women and other statistical minorities or unpopular groups with your DAILY speech patterns, music choices, and consumption patterns, you can give me a call. Untill then, muse to someone else, because I'm busy working in America, dreaming in America, thankful to live in America.
It REALLY REALLY annoys me when people think that they are the ONLY ONES who are entitled to be obnoxious or have their own opinion. Furthermore, it really bugs me when they would rather demean your response patterns than discuss the issue, because they know
1) They can never win [if changing your mind is their goal]
2) They realize the futility of their arguments.
Well, it stands to reason, that if you want to start an argument or discuss something controversial, you should limit the frame of reference and audience to those with whom you'd like to discuss it. [Most of you remember the Jeff McCain/Jake Roseberry e-mail circulations of 2004??] If you don't want to have a discussion with more than one person on an issue, a market place of ideas if you will [props to John Stuart Mill, the man was pretty smart u know?], THEN DON'T SEND AN EMAIL TO A BUNCH OF PEOPLE. You start the discussion, you pick the audience, you have infinate prep time. You don't want them to hear my reply - YOU SHOULD NOT HAVE INCLUDED THEM IN THE CONVERSATION. PERIOD.
Bugs me, just bugs me.
Furthermore, you want to make me read e-mails about how we should all be so quick to reply to your original e-mails, and you want to start the incinuation that one of your friends is doing well to pay you more attention, then you best be ready for a reply. It's not obnoxious or evil - it's in jest - the same as your original statement. DON'T tell me how upset someone else is because of my response - they have a problem - let them come and talk to me.
Bugs me, just bugs me.
So u know what, to those of you who are concerned with this, I'm sorry if you're upset about my attempt to continue your own conversation patterns, and I'm sorry if it embarrasses you to have my reply circulated amongst those who were privy to the original conversation. If it truly is a problem, then I'm sorry becuase I don't like confrontation and I definately don't like to upset my friends. Sorry. I'm sorry because it upset you. But don't misunderstand me, my interpretation still stands.
Finally, I think I've had enough of this conversation period. I won't change my mind on race relations and that's it. Am I closed-minded - maybe. Or maybe, closed-mindedness is the assumption that just because I'm a first generation american I have to think a certain way, and that I have to join some over-inflated, self-important, underground minority revoltuion. Closed-mindedness is a double standard that only I can care about my being hispanic, or black, or native american, or Irish, but if anyone else does - WATCH OUT!! DARN THOSE RACISTS! Close mindedness comes from saying that only I can make deroggatory comments about my ethnic group, but OTHER PEOPLE WHO AREN'T LIKE ME can't. Close-mindedness is saying racisim is bad and evil without recognizing that every time I group people into "white people" as a category and decide they are all the same and all against me, I am practicing the worst kind of racism there is : the kind with a double standard that only goes to display my ignorance and willingness to incite passion in the minds of others. Real closed-mindedness is when I am allowed and even encouraged to associate myself with people who are the same color as me or the same ethnic group as me because that means they are like me and will be my friends - by my "own people"! And then, as a group, we decry segregation. Ironic, isn't it?
Finally, closed-mindedness is that perception that all statistical minorities which do NOT subscribe to the idea that oppression is huge and alive today in all aspects of life, and that outrage is the answer are sell-outs, dumb, or "missing the point". I think it is you who miss the point, oh race-monger. Untill you quit telling everyone what color you are, and how important that is to who you are, no one will be able to forget, because YOU won't let them. The only reason your race, heritage or ethnic group works against you is because YOU DEMAND THAT IT DOES. Let them be and they'll let you be. And if you can't, let me be. Because I'm very busy relying on other dictators of my fortune, because I don't believe in fortune, and I don't believe in chance. Life isn't fair, or didn't you get the memo? I'll get you another copy. But I'll tell you something, it's unfair TO A LOT OF PEOPLE, ALL AROUND THE WORLD. And until you are being forced to work as a prostitute at the age of 9 with 15 customers a day, I don't want to hear about it, ok?
So what, the lady at the Minnessotta airport wanted to know my country of origin, and so what if she didn't believe me when I told her America? Yah, that sux. And yah, it angers me and hurt my feelings. But you know what, she did it to protect this country from threats from abroad, and I'm darn lucky to sit in my house and tell you on my brand new iMac over broadband internet al about it, and not get thrown in prison. Shoot, I'm lucky to be INSIDE instead of UNDER A TREE like my dad was when he was little in Mexico before he came here. Let me give you a piece of advice, it's stupid to come to America to continue to live in Mexico. So don't come here to live in your own prison, and then complain to me about it. When you quit oppressing women and other statistical minorities or unpopular groups with your DAILY speech patterns, music choices, and consumption patterns, you can give me a call. Untill then, muse to someone else, because I'm busy working in America, dreaming in America, thankful to live in America.
Dumb Cowboys
Well, first of all, I'd like to apologize for not posting a while. I've been busy with work and law school applications and sleep etc. Also, my brothers and my dad were wicked sick and by Wednesday, so was I. I'm gettin' better now though...
So, the Cowboys just blew another game, and I'm saddened by yet another loss to the undefeated in the NFC East Eagles (Darn you Donavan!). If we won the game, we still couldn't be in the playoffs, but we coulda stuck it to the Eagles, denying them home field advantage for the playoffs which they have now securely grabbed. Darn it.
****I HATE THE EAGLES - CASEY YOU STINK!****
Oh well. I'm enjoying my vacation thus far (minus the sickness part) and have already had many great adventures. However, it seems rather pointless to write about them on days when they don't happen. So, I'll just write about them as they happen from now on, I promise.
My knitting project for the week is a blanket for my mom out of super soft White TLC Yarn, it's so pretty with little eyelets and stuff, looks like lace. I guess I could take a picture when I'm done. Also, I'm making a scarf for Andrew out of burnt orange and white volour (go UT) for when they play in DC for the inauguration. I'm excited about the scarf - it's got the SHAZAAM stripes (thank you Mrs. Denman for that fantastic description) they have on their uniforms. I get way to happy about knitting, you know it?
So, the Cowboys just blew another game, and I'm saddened by yet another loss to the undefeated in the NFC East Eagles (Darn you Donavan!). If we won the game, we still couldn't be in the playoffs, but we coulda stuck it to the Eagles, denying them home field advantage for the playoffs which they have now securely grabbed. Darn it.
****I HATE THE EAGLES - CASEY YOU STINK!****
Oh well. I'm enjoying my vacation thus far (minus the sickness part) and have already had many great adventures. However, it seems rather pointless to write about them on days when they don't happen. So, I'll just write about them as they happen from now on, I promise.
My knitting project for the week is a blanket for my mom out of super soft White TLC Yarn, it's so pretty with little eyelets and stuff, looks like lace. I guess I could take a picture when I'm done. Also, I'm making a scarf for Andrew out of burnt orange and white volour (go UT) for when they play in DC for the inauguration. I'm excited about the scarf - it's got the SHAZAAM stripes (thank you Mrs. Denman for that fantastic description) they have on their uniforms. I get way to happy about knitting, you know it?
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