It's a little too bad this is such a catch all catch up because there were some good day/year connections in here. But for now, before setting out for home for Easter with the boy (yay!) I'd just want to touch on them so as to catch up. And honestly much of the days assignments have turned to blogs instead of 'tasks' if you will. I'd like to have done both but time just gets scrunchy ya know?
Okay~
Somehow I'm really the only traveler in my immediate family but I got but by the travel bug very young and wanted to be a flight attendant when I was a little girl. When I was 15 I finally got to really go somewhere and through the support of my church growing up, got to go with the McKenzie family to Israel where they were working with YWAM Jerusalem and living in Bethlehem. There's more to say on this, clearly, but today I'm mostly playing catch up so I won't delve. Sunday I went to Algebra Tea House on my street for an Iraqi kebab wrap and the intent of a glass bottle of coke. In Israel we would go to street stands or bitty cafes for either shawarma or falafel and coca cola in glass bottles. Algebra has both but part of this countdown is bringing past to present so I went with my fav go-to wrap instead. Also Cassie came with me so we could catch up after her house sitting for a week. Sadly they were out of coke so we had root beer instead.
At 16 I worked a summer as a white water rafting guide on the Shenandoah (and a tad of the Potomac) river in Harpers Ferry. I was not particularly good at it but it was an enjoyable experience and I loved being outside and on the water and in the sun. You'd get the weirdest tans because you're sitting all day with your thighs sunward, your calves hidden, your face & arms exposed and the rest of your torso completely covered in a life vest. And this was the year that I discovered the beauty of naps. This is a job that totally wears you out and you'd just come home, eat and sleep. On this trip home this weekend I will most definitely be walking to the river on Saturday morning to give it a good hello.
Then of course was 17 which though the season of such spanned longer then, I decided for this project's purposes to tie to the Gypsy reign. :) Barefooting, pasta making, contra dancing, Shakespeare loving, bunch of crazy wonderful friends. I loved that time and those people.
18 was The Crucible- like literally, the show, not a metaphorical going through~ which I connect with really getting to know my dear friend Bergen more and also with realizing how much actually I really loved and wanted to do theatre.
19 was Americorps which I've written about before and will again.
And 20 was YWAM and these three years, 18, 19 & 20 connect a lot in my journey of pursuing the arts as a Christian. And I'll try and come back to flesh these out better. For now suffice it to say at 18 in The Crucible I recognized how very much I actually did love acting and theatre and how as I was about to go away and do other things I loved for 11 months I didn't know what I would do without it. 2 days after having this thought directly is when I got a letter from A*Corps explaining three specialized teams specific to my assigned Denver base. Teaching/tutoring. Firefighting. And a brand spanking new theatre team. Which I auditioned for upon arriving, got in and became part of a team that a decade later is still part of my life and who I love dearly. During my AmeriCorps year I read Addicted to Mediocrity because more and more I was realizing I loved acting. Through this book I felt like God spoke to my heart and broke through a lot of the very practical and utilitarian way I'd been viewing the arts. Through this book I felt I was seeing that not only was it 'okay' that I love and do this, but that I'd been designed for it. So I looked up a performing arts DTS (discipleship training school~something else I'd wanted to do and was introduced to through YWAM in Israel) through YWAM, applied, and that was my post A*Corps step. And there new knowledge in what it means to be a Christian in the arts, in God's own artistry and beauty, developed and furthered.
And post A*Corps was my first apartment with Bergen then Butera now Howlett. And that, that too was a golden time. Card nights, curry chicken salad, the beginning of Boxing Day breakfasts, Unbirthday Parties( that were possibly a terrible idea. I swore off planning surprise parties after this Bergen. You should always check to see if your roommate has homework first. Also it was completely not her birthday although that was sort of the point.) and filled with bright pink cake, the fun of being a townie in Shepherdstown. Good times Bergen, good times. :)
Friday, April 3, 2015
Monday, March 30, 2015
Grandma (Day 14~Year 14: 30 to 30)
The reactions I sometimes get to going by my middle name are surprising. Some people seem truly offended, it's weird, that they've known me as 'Faith' and my first name is in fact 'Rachel'. Didn't pick the going by my middle name bit folks, just how it goes. Believe me, I've gotten confused myself when as a kid at the Dr's or something, they'd call my name several times before I realized who they meant. My favorite (but not) is when people discover this and refer to Rachel as my 'real name' as if Faith, which I've gone by since I was born, was not my 'real name'. Regardless, I'm grateful to carry my first name, as real as my middle one, because I was named after my Grandma.
She gets this day, this year because it's when we lost her.Even now, writing so makes me tear up. At the time, for some reason, I thought 'normal' was hiding away the sad part, going and crying by yourself, and then being happy around people. I don't know where I got this except that I like being in control, and crying is not that. It wasn't until a few years after my Grandma died that my Mom and I learned we'd each been crying when we went to sleep for weeks, not knowing the other was mourning too. "Well I wish I'd known that!" said my Mom when somehow, talking late one night with Alexandra at the Burrow, it just came up. We could have cried together, which honestly probably would eventually have meant laughing together too, because of remembering together. And if not, we could at least have comforted each other. Cry together people. And remind me to as well.
Onward~
She gets this day, this year because it's when we lost her.Even now, writing so makes me tear up. At the time, for some reason, I thought 'normal' was hiding away the sad part, going and crying by yourself, and then being happy around people. I don't know where I got this except that I like being in control, and crying is not that. It wasn't until a few years after my Grandma died that my Mom and I learned we'd each been crying when we went to sleep for weeks, not knowing the other was mourning too. "Well I wish I'd known that!" said my Mom when somehow, talking late one night with Alexandra at the Burrow, it just came up. We could have cried together, which honestly probably would eventually have meant laughing together too, because of remembering together. And if not, we could at least have comforted each other. Cry together people. And remind me to as well.
Onward~
My grandma gave us kitchen sink baths when we were babies, and somehow, somehow I remember this. I remember orange measuring cups and using them as bath toys and pouring the water in and out of them. As an adult I've heard Mom say "She'd clean a big old chicken up for dinner and then fill the sink with water and plop one of you in it." Well. We none of us died from salmonella so....
Baths were always a thing at Grandma's, even past sink bath stage. When Lukas was a toddler he had this habit of submerging face first in the water and just floating there, I don't know why, it was fun for him. So one night Grandma's giving him a bath and he's playing around and he does the dead man's float thing and Grandma waits patiently...until she didn't. She grabbed him by the white blonde hair and said "That's enough!!!" and pulled him out of the water to make sure he was still actually there. She was rather a patient woman so it was pretty hilarious.
Baths were always a thing at Grandma's, even past sink bath stage. When Lukas was a toddler he had this habit of submerging face first in the water and just floating there, I don't know why, it was fun for him. So one night Grandma's giving him a bath and he's playing around and he does the dead man's float thing and Grandma waits patiently...until she didn't. She grabbed him by the white blonde hair and said "That's enough!!!" and pulled him out of the water to make sure he was still actually there. She was rather a patient woman so it was pretty hilarious.
Grandma was also an incredible cook and no one makes mashed potatoes like she did. And chicken soup, and lemon chicken, and heaven knows, lots of things.But I really remember those mashed potatoes. I bet my Dad got his stellar cooking skills from my Grandma.
She had seven kids including twins and as my Uncle Danny said at her funeral, when my Grandfather died (my Dad, the third, was 11 I think) she picked herself up by the bootstraps and raised those seven kids by herself.
My Grandma taught me to sew (not that I remember, but we made several dresses with Alexandra which was fun.) and she sewed me lots of dresses and things when I was a growing up. She also used to rock me sleep when I was a toddler which actually meant she would fall asleep and I would wriggle out and run around again. That rocking chair is now at The Burrow (aka, my families house) and has rocked so many babies. My Dad probably got his cooking AND fall asleep wherever skills from his Mom. :)
It seems funny to write about her and to know she was wonderful to me but to not know how to say so. She was a big part of my world and I loved her dearly and I'm glad to have her name. I love you Grandma.
It seems funny to write about her and to know she was wonderful to me but to not know how to say so. She was a big part of my world and I loved her dearly and I'm glad to have her name. I love you Grandma.
Sunday, March 29, 2015
That Sam I Am (Day 13~Year 13: 30 to 30)
But that was before I actually met Samuel. And when I did all of that nonsense melted away.
Sam was a lovey little guy from the start and his first word, very early I'll have you know, was "Honey" as he reached for Mom. He was also a quirky little guy from the start and he has a great many fantastic tales in our families story bank. Most I'll leave there for now Sam, don't worry.
He was a story teller too and Sam talked in a slow, deep, monotone and if ever he got somehow offtrack....he'd start over from the very beginning. And these were loooooong tales too. So you'd hold your breath hoping no one moved, though sometimes he'd get off track for no particular reason you could have foreseen and it was back to the beginning. And the thing was, it didn't matter how close to the end you were. And it didn't matter if he'd already started over 3 times. It was back to the beginning and all the way through. Devan, being Devan, learned to use this to his button-pushing, self-entertaining advantage by strategically placing one of his friends on the couch with Sam, "pushing the play button" by instigating a story topic, and then leave the room after distracting Sam near the end of some story session, thus trapping the friend (did they still call him that?) in a loop of story.
This is also the brother who said to Devan one day "Am I a fweaky widdle man?" and, I believe while sitting on the porch 'smoking' a bubble pipe with his cute little toddler Hobbit like curls, greeted him cheerfully "Devan, was your day lucky?"
What a kid! And what a sweetheart.
Sam has had a Dad's heart since he was a wee little thing. I remember a conversation with him when he was just a kid and him telling me how he was going to get married and have a family and how maybe learning to ‘plumb’ as a plumber would be a good career choice. He once drew me a picture of what he thought would be me at my wedding and it sits framed on my desk which is saying something because I don't frame much of anything.
Once when he was nine I remember talking to him on the phone and towards the end of the conversation I said "Well baby cakes, I've gotta go." and then I stopped because I had a realization I'd once had with Lukas, one where my hoped for cool sister status had perhaps been demolished because I'd forgotten how old a brother really had gotten and was treating them younger. With Lukas this was so. So with Sam I stopped and said "Sam, I'm sorry, does it bother you when I say that?" "A little." "I'm sorry Sam. I'll start over, Sam, I've gotta be getting off of here..." "Oh no, no, I don't like it when you have to go. I like it when you call me babycakes." I stayed on the phone for twenty more minutes. ~
I'm going to have to check with him before I post this because we're always telling stories on him and he doesn't always like it. But he's such a neat little guy, and not little anymore by any means, he's outgrown us all. I think I might be the craziest version of myself around him which is kind of hilarious and which he isn't quite sure what to do with. He calls me a fierce koala. And given that I smash chocolate Easter bunnies in his room at complete random I think it's probably a deserved title. Although I also freak him out by making monkey sounds and koala's are pretty quiet sooooo....
Today, I'm going to finally start reading what he sent me of a story he started. And if I get distracted, I can start myself back at the beginning. '
Thursday, March 26, 2015
Journals (Day 12~Year 12: 30 to 30)
On my twelfth birthday my Uncle Danny gave me my first real journal. He and my aunt Jen have always given awesome gifts and this is well marked in my memory. It was a leather bound cover, light brown, with a floral garland imprint surrounding the word 'Journal'. The book inside was removable from the cover so that you can get new blank books and continue to use the leather jacket as a journal cover. Quite clever and lovely and practical and meaningful all in one. Which I love.
I'd had a Lisa Frank diary previous to this occasion, but this rightfully graduated the term 'diary' to 'journal'. I already associated Danny with journaling because when I was a little kid my Mom told me that he'd journaled about his band-following travels. This may have been my first introduction to the concept & I thought that was pretty neat. So much so that not understanding the rather personal nature of such I asked him once if I could read them. In response he gave a Danny particular chortle and said "When I'm dead!" followed by a Danny particular laugh.
And this book, that year, was the start of a so far lifelong practice that has filled a small carry~on suitcase with filled up journals. It's something that's helped me keep records of stories, of prayers, of journeys and dreams. Even of recipes sometimes, and quotes, or passages from books and plays and movies and scripture. And it's helped me, Miss Outward Processor, dump my whirling thoughts on a page and sometimes see they're maybe not as bad as I thought, or at least maybe help me to sort them and know better how to think & talk through them.
There was a time when I thought of separating the different things I use journaling for into different books. One for prayer, one for actual record keeping journaling, one for emotional workings out, etc. But my life is my life and I decided that my thankfulness's and joys ought be beside my frustrations and 'dammit's'. So all in one.
As a record keeping process, I used to be much more diligent, but not as much now. I still record things that feel special, or noteworthy, or important, or simply because I haven't in a time~ but this I don't do daily. But the other bits and pieces still make their way to page, not daily as before, but frequently. It's a practice that has often served me well and one for which I'm glad.
Often it feels, honestly like blogging here and even like this project, that perhaps journaling is something too self focused. It seems strange and maybe even narcissistic to want to put down your own personal history. There is of course more to it but the nagging doubt is there. Yesterday I shared this concern with Devan regarding this project. And this is what he wrote back. "Don't stop in the middle...if you're concerned about it being self focused then change the perspective...Your life isn't just about you, it's about you, and the people around you and the people you affect and who affect you...It's about things you were a part of and things you missed. Just because you lived a year doesn't make it your year. You're the person who's perspective we are gaining on the last thirty years. You're a vessel for things God has done in the past thirty years. So get over it and finish your project. :)" Yeah, see, my brother is pretty cool.
Today~ I'll purchase a new journal, as the one I'm currently in has been filled once and I'm now working in upside down/backwards on the backs of pages. So, yeah, it's probably about time.
I'd had a Lisa Frank diary previous to this occasion, but this rightfully graduated the term 'diary' to 'journal'. I already associated Danny with journaling because when I was a little kid my Mom told me that he'd journaled about his band-following travels. This may have been my first introduction to the concept & I thought that was pretty neat. So much so that not understanding the rather personal nature of such I asked him once if I could read them. In response he gave a Danny particular chortle and said "When I'm dead!" followed by a Danny particular laugh.
And this book, that year, was the start of a so far lifelong practice that has filled a small carry~on suitcase with filled up journals. It's something that's helped me keep records of stories, of prayers, of journeys and dreams. Even of recipes sometimes, and quotes, or passages from books and plays and movies and scripture. And it's helped me, Miss Outward Processor, dump my whirling thoughts on a page and sometimes see they're maybe not as bad as I thought, or at least maybe help me to sort them and know better how to think & talk through them.
There was a time when I thought of separating the different things I use journaling for into different books. One for prayer, one for actual record keeping journaling, one for emotional workings out, etc. But my life is my life and I decided that my thankfulness's and joys ought be beside my frustrations and 'dammit's'. So all in one.
As a record keeping process, I used to be much more diligent, but not as much now. I still record things that feel special, or noteworthy, or important, or simply because I haven't in a time~ but this I don't do daily. But the other bits and pieces still make their way to page, not daily as before, but frequently. It's a practice that has often served me well and one for which I'm glad.
Often it feels, honestly like blogging here and even like this project, that perhaps journaling is something too self focused. It seems strange and maybe even narcissistic to want to put down your own personal history. There is of course more to it but the nagging doubt is there. Yesterday I shared this concern with Devan regarding this project. And this is what he wrote back. "Don't stop in the middle...if you're concerned about it being self focused then change the perspective...Your life isn't just about you, it's about you, and the people around you and the people you affect and who affect you...It's about things you were a part of and things you missed. Just because you lived a year doesn't make it your year. You're the person who's perspective we are gaining on the last thirty years. You're a vessel for things God has done in the past thirty years. So get over it and finish your project. :)" Yeah, see, my brother is pretty cool.
Today~ I'll purchase a new journal, as the one I'm currently in has been filled once and I'm now working in upside down/backwards on the backs of pages. So, yeah, it's probably about time.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Sunshine Man (Day 10 ~ Year 10: 30 to 30)
Any form of normal didn't really come to the Whitacre house until Lukas Whitacre. Lukas was born when I was 10 and I was sooooo excited to be a big sister again and have a baby around. And this baby was suuuuper cute. He had white blonde hair, thick eyelashes, and blue blue eyes. When I was a baby my Mom had to keep a bonnet on me until I was 2 so people would know I was a girl because until then I was essentially bald. With Lukas she had to put on overtly "Boy" shirts and with his curly, golden locks people still commented on her 'girl'. It was these golden locks that caused my Mom to deem him the sunshine man and every morning we sang to Lukas,
"Good morning merry sunshine,
"Good morning merry sunshine,
Why did you wake so soon?
You scared the little birds away.
And shined
away
the moon."
Which is, yes, an actual song.
Which is, yes, an actual song.
Along with being adorable, Lukas was, from day one, extraordinarily headstrong. I got into a fight with him when he was 18 months old. Like a battle of the wills fight. I don't remember what it was about. I do remember thinking "this is ridiculous. I'm fighting with the baby." And I do believe he won. Which is unsuprising.
And, yeah, he was so normal. And the poor baby felt it in a sea of weirdos but perspective is a funny thing and so being the odd (normal) man out, he felt like the odd one, and with some kind of incredible intuition as a toddler. He used to cry that he "didn't fit" and he wanted brown hair. Poor kid. He got over it later. ;)
He also used to say, with great confidence, when asked how old he was at 3 ,"46." He'd come up with a new big number each time but say it with no lag, like he actually believed it.
And one day, I came home from some stint away, and suddenly this golden haired child was taller than me. And that was a very strange thing. And now he knows music, and taught himself guitar and brings sunshine that way. So I wrote him on his countdown day, to say I loved him and I'm glad he's my brother. And that his defense of the pronunciation of "armadillo" would always stick in my mind (It's a cruel irony to not be able to pronounce the first letter of your own name as a toddler and Luke's 'l's' were ever 'w's' at that age. In one memorable conversation he was talking in the car about 'armadiwows' and oh so kind and helpful older brother Devan said "Don't you mean armadiLLo's?" to which Lukas said emphatically "That's what I said. 'armadiiiiiiiiiiiiwows.'"
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Sunshine, Sunshine & Pencil Points. (Days 9, 10 & 11~Years, 9, 10 & 11 : 30 to 30)
Here's what I remember about 11: the birthday party part sucked because the original plans failed and at my sleepover with Alexandra that night (that part didn't suck, also the present about to be mentioned with which we were playing didn't suck. ) at approximately the modest hour of 2 am I sat on a Very Sharp pencil and the point broke off in my foot. It's still there. (oh. The present was not a A Pencil. It was some cool fun kit full of things that kids think are fun and Grown Ups get bored by, like office memos, pencils...actually that's all I remember. Gox. what else was in there? It was like a Girl Friday, grown up office and daily life things that now I'm sure I'd want to get away from. Except that actually I like lists.) Thankfully they no longer make these out of actual lead and I've lived to see other birthdays. :) I screamed. And cried. It really, really, really hurt, and probably I was pretty freaked out too. We must have been in some healthy food phase and not a Count Chocula rules one because Mom soaked my foot in a bowl full of water and seaweed. She was really nice for being woken up at 2 in the morning. And she said that her eleventh birthday sucked too. Somehow this was helpful, felt like this is just the way this one was gonna go. So yeah, I have nothing else for this day and I'm pinning 11 and pencil tips with finishing writing up on the slacking I've done the past two days. Which is not actual slacking, I've just been Busy.
So 9 was cool~ yes I realize I'm jumping but I wanted to write "Sunshine, Sunshine" and you'll see why but Sunshine Man's post is gonna come next round because, again and like Alexandra, I don't want him lumped in~. Anyway, 9 was cool because we went for our first Florida visit. It was me, Mom and Devan (Dad came later. Which was a surprise.) and we loaded the car up with a laundry basket full of books from the library (have I mentioned that we grew up with an Awesome library system?) Most of which I'm sure were Devan's. As a kid I remember being so much less sure of what my interests were than Devan was. His brain was like a sponge and he'd just gather facts from books about animals and weather and science generally and I felt like stuff went through my brain and didn't stick. I was like a sponge another way. I took on what I was around, who I was around, what was going on. Which much later I realized made me empathetic, relational aaand, and actress. And a storyteller. But I didn't know that then (and sometimes don't really know what that means now.) and was both in admiration of my brothers knowledge and frustration at my own lack of....topic of interest. Anyway, laundry basket full of books, out of which I remember an ocean topic Magic School Bus~ cause you gotta love that Ms Frizz~ and probably several DK like, kid encyclopedia type ocean creature books. Oh and field guides! Like I said, Devan probably read most of these.
We were going to visit Brother and Theresa, Lora and David~ our Uncle, Aunt, and cousins on my Mom's side. We drove the 18 hrs there and I remember that being fun. I also remember that including the now hall of Whitacre family stories fame tale of a conversation about Gator's and zig zags. It went like this: As we are discussing Alligators in Florida Mom mentions that our Aunt Donna who once lived in Florida told her that if an Alligator were to chase you, that you ought run in zig zags because it couldn't follow you well. I have mentioned that Devan and I were worrisome children. I didn't give this much thought except to log away the necessity of zig zag running were an Alligator to actually chase me. Devan, however, apparently and unbeknownst to us until half an hour later had wheels turning at this statement. At that particular time mark he let out thoughtfully from the back seat "I'm gonna buy us three of them zig zags with my allowance." LOL
So yeah. I remember arriving and stopping at a payphone to call and ask for further directions. Yeah, they still had those then. :) It was at a gas station and we got fried Gator nuggets too. It really did taste like chicken, only fishy and tougher.
And the next couple of weeks were a grand old sunshiny, gecko catchin, ocean loving, snorkel going, seafood eating, going fishing, lotsa swimming, trampoline jumping time. Devan had other gems too this trip including smashing with a hammer the Sand Dollars my uncle risked his life diving for and was bleaching in the driveway, not out of malice or even mischievousness but because "It makes more!" He'd read in one of the many laundry basked books about multiplication of certain sea creatures that lose limbs. And boy did that seem true with the hammer in the driveway.
And catching geckos? That was the best. We were taught how to make a catch with a stick and some fishing line~ essentially a noose, but not one that would harm, just make an anole catchable. Because anole's are all over the place in Florida and catch them we did. And if you happened to catch it just by the tail and not the middle or the head, sometimes it's tail would break off and it would go free. And like Devan's hopeful Sand Dollar experiment, their tail would grow back later.
Devan's other story gem this trip was when we went fishing. Poor kid caught a huge freaking fish and it was j u s t barely under the legal limit for that particular kind. Telling a 6 year old that the fish half his size "isn't big enough", not an easy job. But we all know it happened and YOU caught it dude! :)
We also went to an aquarium and pet stingrays for the first time and it was AWESOME. They're like puppies that feel like raw chicken. It's weird. They really, really like the attention/affection/whatever b u t they definitely feel like raw chicken.
There was so much coolness on this trip and we loved it. And so on this day I was meant to call Theresa~ who has hosted us since and always makes it a grand time. And I haven't yet, but I will. :) Thanks for the sunshine Theresa. We love you.
And now the next Sunshine in a new post....
So 9 was cool~ yes I realize I'm jumping but I wanted to write "Sunshine, Sunshine" and you'll see why but Sunshine Man's post is gonna come next round because, again and like Alexandra, I don't want him lumped in~. Anyway, 9 was cool because we went for our first Florida visit. It was me, Mom and Devan (Dad came later. Which was a surprise.) and we loaded the car up with a laundry basket full of books from the library (have I mentioned that we grew up with an Awesome library system?) Most of which I'm sure were Devan's. As a kid I remember being so much less sure of what my interests were than Devan was. His brain was like a sponge and he'd just gather facts from books about animals and weather and science generally and I felt like stuff went through my brain and didn't stick. I was like a sponge another way. I took on what I was around, who I was around, what was going on. Which much later I realized made me empathetic, relational aaand, and actress. And a storyteller. But I didn't know that then (and sometimes don't really know what that means now.) and was both in admiration of my brothers knowledge and frustration at my own lack of....topic of interest. Anyway, laundry basket full of books, out of which I remember an ocean topic Magic School Bus~ cause you gotta love that Ms Frizz~ and probably several DK like, kid encyclopedia type ocean creature books. Oh and field guides! Like I said, Devan probably read most of these.
We were going to visit Brother and Theresa, Lora and David~ our Uncle, Aunt, and cousins on my Mom's side. We drove the 18 hrs there and I remember that being fun. I also remember that including the now hall of Whitacre family stories fame tale of a conversation about Gator's and zig zags. It went like this: As we are discussing Alligators in Florida Mom mentions that our Aunt Donna who once lived in Florida told her that if an Alligator were to chase you, that you ought run in zig zags because it couldn't follow you well. I have mentioned that Devan and I were worrisome children. I didn't give this much thought except to log away the necessity of zig zag running were an Alligator to actually chase me. Devan, however, apparently and unbeknownst to us until half an hour later had wheels turning at this statement. At that particular time mark he let out thoughtfully from the back seat "I'm gonna buy us three of them zig zags with my allowance." LOL
So yeah. I remember arriving and stopping at a payphone to call and ask for further directions. Yeah, they still had those then. :) It was at a gas station and we got fried Gator nuggets too. It really did taste like chicken, only fishy and tougher.
And the next couple of weeks were a grand old sunshiny, gecko catchin, ocean loving, snorkel going, seafood eating, going fishing, lotsa swimming, trampoline jumping time. Devan had other gems too this trip including smashing with a hammer the Sand Dollars my uncle risked his life diving for and was bleaching in the driveway, not out of malice or even mischievousness but because "It makes more!" He'd read in one of the many laundry basked books about multiplication of certain sea creatures that lose limbs. And boy did that seem true with the hammer in the driveway.
And catching geckos? That was the best. We were taught how to make a catch with a stick and some fishing line~ essentially a noose, but not one that would harm, just make an anole catchable. Because anole's are all over the place in Florida and catch them we did. And if you happened to catch it just by the tail and not the middle or the head, sometimes it's tail would break off and it would go free. And like Devan's hopeful Sand Dollar experiment, their tail would grow back later.
Devan's other story gem this trip was when we went fishing. Poor kid caught a huge freaking fish and it was j u s t barely under the legal limit for that particular kind. Telling a 6 year old that the fish half his size "isn't big enough", not an easy job. But we all know it happened and YOU caught it dude! :)
We also went to an aquarium and pet stingrays for the first time and it was AWESOME. They're like puppies that feel like raw chicken. It's weird. They really, really like the attention/affection/whatever b u t they definitely feel like raw chicken.
There was so much coolness on this trip and we loved it. And so on this day I was meant to call Theresa~ who has hosted us since and always makes it a grand time. And I haven't yet, but I will. :) Thanks for the sunshine Theresa. We love you.
And now the next Sunshine in a new post....
Sunday, March 22, 2015
Alexandra (Day 8 ~ Year 8 : 30 to 30
And the best part was that after a childhood and adolescence filled with sleepovers, late night talks, walks in the woods, "Crabby Sisters" (our made up restaurant. We still have menus.), so much time, through so many seasons up on our little mountain, once we got older, moved away, moved back, moved away, did other things...we still keep up. And we can go for a long while without keeping up but once we're together, we pick it up again. She's my oldest friend and knows me better than most. She's always there for me and is one of the most fiercely loyal people I know. For this amazing, beautiful, responsible, funny, intelligent, woman I'm so grateful. <3
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