my brother's new shop

My brother, John, has spent months putting together his new website Idaho Fly. Click here to go to the site. I am super proud of all of his hard work. I really hope lots of people will go to his site and buy lots of flies. He is located in Boise, Idaho. The website has all kinds of fly fishing goodies, and he is happy to give lessons in fly fishing as well.

john's blog

So, another member of the family has started blogging: John. I am not sure what the theme of it will be...perhaps just rants about this and that. His second post hit home: insurance is one big ponzi scheme. Click here to read more!

babies

I heard someplace, and cannot find the source, that the US is in the midst of a mini baby boom. So many of my friends are having babies, I had a dream last night that I was having a baby. Ok, well I started reading this book recommended by my good friend Krista, The Baby Whisperer, because I recommended it to John.

About John, well his little boy Sean is a mini-John. It is amazing. Can you see the resemblance?

my current thought loop

1. We want to move to Portland, but jobs are hard to find there.

2. Finding jobs is not a problem for me...but now figuring out what I
want to do is hard.

3. I want to be a writer. I should focus on finding jobs with a writing bent.

4. What is Brent going to do there? Work for a firm. Hum..that will mean we will see each other less...I don't like that idea one bit...80 hour work weeks are no good.

5. We want to move to be closer to family.

6. The economy is tanking. We have good jobs making good money and our jobs are secure.

7. Which brings me back to the beginning...maybe now is not the time to move.

8. And then I get stressed because I want to move sooner rather than later to be close to our families.

9. Which brings me to frustration that we have so much debt.

10. Then I think, well we should stay here for a year, move to a studio and save money like there is no tomorrow...

11. So off to craigslist I go to find a new apartment, and I. hate. them. all.

12. And then I think moving is not an option, so we need to eat in EVERY day.

13. Then I get sweaty palms and am not really sure what to do, but I am sure I should do some work, so I don't lose this job.

Dirty Underwear and Parents

The Second to Last Meeting

A high school classroom filled with anxious teenagers and anxious parents listening to a teacher go on and on about a trip to Germany over the upcoming Christmas holiday. It is not the most interesting meeting, but to me it seems important.

Then my Dad gets up and walks out. I thought it strange when he brought the book to the meeting, but then this behavior.

I get up to find him after having waited 5 minutes to make sure he had not just gone to the bathroom. The meetings were mandatory after all.

I find him on the floor leaning against the lockers reading his book.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

“Reading my book. What does it look like I am doing?”

“Why?”

“The meeting was boring.”

He had a point. But the meetings were mandatory and it was mandatory that my Dad behave because the guy I took German for, my high school crush, is in the meeting with his dad.

“Let me know when the meeting is over.”

Thanks Dad. Will do. And no more meetings for you.


The Final Meeting

Thinking that things could not go any worse at this meeting, I am relaxed.

The teacher asks if there are any final travel tips anyone wants to share before the trip. Linda, aka Mom, raises her hand. Yes, this is my chance to redeem myself. My Mom was a flight attendant for 15 years, my Dad is a pilot. We are part of the travel industry. This will be good.

Let me say now, that my Mom would oftentimes tell people that I was adopted.

“Mom, tell them the truth, I am not adopted.”

With a hand in front of her mouth, “She is a little sensitive about it.”

And with her at 5’11” with red nails and platinum blond hair - we did not look alike.

So, Linda raises her hand. I think, “This is good. She will redeem me from the fiasco Dad created.”

“Linda, what is your tip?”

“Well, when our family goes on vacation,”

Let me interrupt her now and also say at this point, that since 3rd grade I packed my own bags.

“Mom, you did not pack my bags the right way.”

“Well then you can pack the bags yourself from now on.”

Now on being the rest of my life. The woman was nothing, if not consequential.

Back to the travel tip:

“we take all of our old, ratty, stained underwear, and wear them one last time. Then we throw them away at the hotel so we have more room to bring back souvenirs.”

Yep, this is what she says to all of my friends and their parents. I try to crawl under my desk and think to myself “maybe I am adopted. How could she do this to me?” Oh, the laughs.

Years later, when I told this story as my most embarrassing story, she felt horrible. She still thought it a good tip. I pointed out that you cannot really save that much room with underwear, our asses were just not that large.

Grammy's Vitauary

In the last week two people near me have lost two people near them, completely unexpectedly. Adding to this loss, are two friends who have relatives who have advanced stages of cancer and one once again realizes the shortness and precarious state of

Life.

So I am embarking on the anti-obituary. It struck me at some point in the last year that waiting until a person is dead to tell the world how great they were is absurd. I will begin with my oldest friends, in chronological order and work my way to the youngest.

This means I begin with Eve M. and end with Erin R., with the many people I know along the way.

Eve M. is my grandmother. She has many names: Kay, Eva, Molesworth, E., just to name a few. Her names seem to have marked the stages of her life as well as her address have. Married twice, once to a soldier who died in World War II and to mister miserable, she bore three children. Her daughter, Linda, my mom, died almost seven years ago. Her next child, Ed E. is a professor and was so big when he was born that Gram had to sit sideways for months. And her youngest daughter, Kate H., is an actress in Chicago.

I can’t imagine having been married at 19 and widowed at 21 with a baby. She delivered my mom just before my grandfather shipped out, being one of the first induced labors ever.

She grew up in the depression, spending time in a children’s home. On Fridays, if their home economics room was cleaned up quickly and they ran to catch the trolley in St. Louis, one driver would give her and her friends a free ride downtown. Then they would have one ride left on their ticket for the return trip. I love the vision of Kay running in her last pair of “real” stockings to catch the street car.

After the war she worked in people’s homes and then meet Ed E. senior. They married and had a pleasant life in O’fallon, IL. They were happy. Ed was an accountant and they had a few stores. As Gram says, she worked in retail for many years. She owned a children’s store. And then Mr. Miserable was sent to the slammer.

After a few years and some time spent in California and a divorce, she changed her name to Eve M. and moved to Georgia. Her daughter Linda was pregnant with me. She then became my nanny while my mom continued to work. We spent five years together. I remember watching Phil Donahue and the Price is Right every morning while she had toast and coffee in bed. We did everything together.

I also remember spending hours waiting for her to get ready…she was fixing her hair piece I later learned.

We went to Disney World and Disney Land together. I loved being with Gram. When my brother John was born, she moved to Houston, TX with Cliff, an architect.

I visited her one summer for a month when I was six. That was my first flight alone. We played and had so much fun. I cried the whole way home. I was so sad to leave Gram.

In high school, after we had moved to Montana, I used to drive by her apartment to check on her. One time, her car was there but I could not seem to get her on the phone. I wigged out. I ran up to her apartment and knocked on the door. No answer. Then I went to the neighbor’s door. When I got to the third door, I was a crying mess. “Hi, my name is Nicole. I am Eve’s granddaughter. Have you seen her? I can’t get into her place.”

Grammy was there visiting with her new neighbor. What a first impression I must have made. She remains friends with Howard and Maureen, the neighbors, even today.

A few years ago, we took a trip to the White River. She has fished there forever. Boy was that fun. We stayed in a cottage and got up early to get out on the river. She caught lots of fish. I let her catch my fish, because I did not want to kill the fish. My brother John is supposed to take her fishing next.

I still worry about her though. A few years ago I called the police because I would not reach her. She lives in St. Louis again now. She had gone fishing and not told me…what a spitfire.