So, I finally scored a treasury on etsy. Go click and make me famous. Pretty please?

This child walked up, waved his hand in front of me, and said, “You will bake something yummy. Thank you.”

You know, it’s the strangest thing. . . but I kinda have an urge to bake something yummy.

There’s nothing like a welcome home. And you have to give our cat credit, she out did herself. New lawn ornaments… they’re EXACTLY what I wanted!

In truth, this is a comedy of errors and not entirely the cat’s fault. Our cat sitter closed off the doors to Snicker’s litter box on Thursday. Snickers, in dire need and I’m sure quite a bit of frustration, used our new couch as an alternative. Six days marinated in cat waste, my lovely couch is now decorating my yard. Later in the day, IZ will rent a truck and make a donation to the landfill. I’m not happy about that, but what can you do?

IZ, an ardent follower of Buddhianity, keeps saying, “Attachment to things only leads to suffering.” The reverse is true too, though—because now that I’m unattached to this couch, my backside is already suffering at the thought of sitting on our old futon. But praise the universe that I had a futon to haul up from the basement as a replacement couch. And praise the universe that we had a rug beneath the couch, so our carpet was spared. And PRAISE JESUS that the cat didn’t pick our bed. Oh. My.

I’m attempting to laugh. But people, it’s hard to laugh when your backside is yelling and your nose is complaining. I am the definition of vociferous! Every pore in my body is assaulted by this. We spent hours yesterday attempting to get the scent of cat pee out of our house. Heroic measures couldn’t rescue the couch. Once we realized this, we hauled it outside and immediately the gross factor inside the house started to abate. But by then, I had the smell of cat pee burned into my nasal passages and so it wasn’t enough to keep me from hauling in arm-loads of lilacs and burning scented candles. IZ steam cleaned the carpets while I walked around Fabreezing the air. Spray, spray; sniff-sniff!

So now, my couch is sitting on the lawn waiting to be hauled off to the dump. And I’m attempting to laugh. It’s hard work, people. Hard work.

You arrived! And you both were simply radiant! Blessings on the journey.

I suspect tomorrow cannot come too soon for you, little brother. It is an express bullet train at rush hour for me. Blurry. I feel blurry. 

There are so many words I should have for you. Wisdom from  an elder sister and all that. But I find, the girl with too may words, that words have quit me in this moment. All I have is what I feel for you. Which, is immensely painful and special and turbulent and fierce. It is FIERCE LOVE. Fierce love does not like to be limited by definition.

And so I give you what I have:  my deepest admiration for the human being you have become. And for the becoming that has cost you. Your arrival at tomorrow was not by accident—but it wasn’t all by your choice either. Sometimes, what defines us as human beings is not what happens to us. But what we do with what happens to us.

You do not realize it now–how could you? You are blurry too, more than ready for tomorrow. Eyes focused on the light that is coming. But I know this.  You will speed through the day and tomorrow will remain for eternity as the marker of the beginning of your new life together with Marie. You will be you and you will be completely reborn. And you don’t even know it.

But I know, I know that the man you will be at your 25th wedding anniversary, the man you will be in 50 years, the man you will be tomorrow— that man arrived today. He arrived in the way he looks at the woman he will hold for an eternity. He arrived in every step he took to get to this moment. He arrived when he made this choice and he arrived when she said, “Yes!”

Tomorrow is coming and while I may not be ready for it, I know deep in my soul that you are.

I love you, Mark. With a fierce and undying love. 

Dear Little Brother,

Change of plans. I’m not coming to your wedding this Saturday. It is going to be 80 degrees out here on the edge of the world that day. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen the sun? Besides, I hear it’s going to be raining in TN. If I come to your wedding, I will miss the one day a year of loveliness the Universe affords this part of the world. I don’t want to miss our “Summer”.

And yes, yes I would stand you up over weather. What’s your point?

Sorry,

Your Sister

This is just a small reminder: tomorrow is the National Association of Letter Carriers Food Drive. This year, perhaps more so than in any year of recent memory, food banks around the country are in desperate need of your contributions. Many warehouses across our great land are empty! With gas prices at a record high, more and more people are relying on local food banks. Working people like you. Food banks are pressed beyond their ability to serve and in many communities people are being turned away.

This food drive is always on a Saturday and I don’t know about you, but I tend to get busy and forget these things. So, this reminder is as much for me as it is for you. Please remember to leave your non-perishables for your carrier tomorrow. Every can helps.

(and just so I don’t forget, I’m leaving mine on the porch RIGHT NOW!)

The postman brought new shoes today. Silver Mary-Janes for me. Grey Sketchers for him. Both in the same size. He is only 11 and I’m not.

My spidey-sense tells me that the next American Idol’s first name is David. His last name is still a bit of a blur.

My spidey-sense  tells me that a certain dread-locked contestant has been inhaling. Just sayin’.

My spidey-sense  also tells me that the remaining female contestant has a man named Tony in her future.

My spidey-sense is on FIRE!