May 22, 2010

A Favorite


...I spend a few moments wishing Dallas had an H&M.


"Anyone who says they have only one life to live must not know how to read a book."
-- Author Unknown

"Always read something that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it."
-- P.J. O'Rourke

Reading is the cheapest form of travel. Just this morning, as I finished up "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" (a cheap copy I picked up at an estate sale months ago), I was in a sunflower field in southern Louisiana, sucking crayfish heads and drinking bourbon.

I'm always a little more emotional during and immediately after finishing a book, drawing bits and pieces of the characters that I loved and trying to make them traits of my own. It's a silly habit, probably not very healthy, but I can't help it. Sherlock Holmes and James Bond and Danny Ocean and Jason Bourne and have ruined me-- I'll never possess their cool-wise-confidence: a mental library of explosive powders, the ability to say the right thing at the right time, dead-on aim...

My favorite book is a bit of a cliche, "Pride and Prejudice," as I'm sure every girl thinks she relates to Lizzie, but I really do, you see! She dearly loves to laugh, she adores books more than people, she's loyal to her family, and she'd rather be alone forever, with herself, than tolerate. That's feminism.

I hate the idea of this.

May 9, 2010

Isn't she lovely...

Mother's Day is here. The only problem is, I'm not with my mother. I miss Tammy Faye King, and I wish I could hug her. And make her a meal. But instead, I had to send a card on a cross country trip and will be making numerous phone calls, trying to fill the void my absence no doubt has left.

So here's to Mom, my mom, with her beautiful smile and sparkly eyes. I love you for so many reasons: your goofy jokes and resulting laughter (even when you're the only one laughing), your pretty handwriting I grew up wanting so badly, your talents in the kitchen I obviously didn't inherit, your willingness to be a band mom year after year (and the cool one, at that!), the fact that you're still alive and sane after having three children in a year and a half, your patience with said smart-mouthed, stubborn children...

I love watching you be a great aunt, a patient, loving wife, a supportive sister and daughter...and I'm honored to be your daughter.

But most of all, I love you. Thank you.

And I can't forget the other two women in my life: my nanas.

To Nana Green, at whose home I spent the night more times than I can remember, who used to give me toaster strudels every morning, who has rescued my entire wardrobe from countless stains (and wrinkles), who understood my desire to be cool growing up and did everything she could to help me: thank you for everything you've done for forgetful me, whether it be giving me your lunch when I didn't have one, getting my cheerleading uniform ready, running home to grab something I needed, or playing taxi and turning your house into a diner between school activities. I hope I'm able to be someday be as selfless as you.

And to Nana King, who taught me that loveliness isn't just an extravagance, who taught me to make my bed so that the pretty sides of the sheets were always touching me, who opened her home to me (and my friends) for the best summer of my life, who makes herself available for midnight phone calls, who understands and encourages big dreams (even if they might be a little unrealistic), who used to listen to "As the Deer" on infinite repeat in her car just because I loved it: thank you for your endless prayers and for being a living example of faith. You'll never know what your confidence in those prayers taught me.

I'm a blessed girl.