I'm having to do a lot of bio writing and talking these days.  Came up with this to try to cram into a Facebook field:

Home: NW Austin (Oak Forest)

Spouse:  John Watters
Toddler: Johanna (2.5)
Steps:   Ellen (17)
         Jay (15)

Pets: Morgan (female G.Shep)
      Josie (female tortycat)
      Cally (female calico)

Fish: Angelfish, bottomcats,
      pleicostamus, mollies,
      crawfish named Buddy

I think that sums it up.  I live a rather rich life!

The latest news is here. News8Austin has been giving the best coverage, based on my comparison of what I'm hearing from my aunt and what I'm reading in the media. Although the fire is "out," the firefighters are still dealing with hot spots, and 25% of the affected area, including the road where my aunt's house was, remains closed to homeowners. My aunt and cousin talked their way into the area today, but were only allowed to spend a brief time at her place.

Of note is that Suzie's was the ONLY house on her road to burn down. The firefighters were able to save every other house, but my aunt lives at the end of a long, narrow, secluded drive, and the firefighters were afraid (rightly so) that they could become surrounded by fire. The rest of the houses on her road are fine, and there are many trees on her property (5 acres) -- I'm guessing even *most* -- that did not burn. That's good because it means she might rebuild (because her property is not ruined), but it's also bad because it means there is plenty of fuel if a hot spot flares up. That's why they're still not letting people in to that area.

Suzie's insurance company is giving her a housing allowance that should get her through until she either buys elsewhere or rebuilds on her property. She says it smells very bad there. I am sure she's utterly conflicted about what to do. It will take some time to decide, but in the mean time she has a pile of chores and to-do's: forward the mail, close out all of the utilities, forward or cancel phone service, buy necessities (she was annoyed that she forgot her toothbrush)...the list goes on. And of course there will be daily communication with the insurance company for some time, I am sure. And every move she makes right now needs to be documented -- like the receipt for that new toothbrush? Gotta save that. Gotta save it all. If there's one thing insurance companies like, it's documentation.

Everyone in my family is feeling great sorrow. Suzie's place -- the place as we knew it just two days ago -- will never exist again. When I sent the news via email that her house was threatened but she was safely out, my cousin, Suzie's nephew, responded, "That's awful news...I love that house." For many years, we held our family Thanksgiving at Suzie's, and it was one of the events I looked forward to the very most. Her home was always cozy. It smelled nice. She decorated it with family art and knickknacks that always seemed to be placed in exactly the right spots on the walls and around the rooms. (My mother has the same skill. I wish I'd gotten that gene.) Suzie has a green thumb like no one else I know so she always had gorgeous, huge plants in her living room, which looked out over a big, wrap-around deck that she and several other family members installed themselves. We have so many family photos of people sitting on that deck, enjoying the gorgeous weather we get almost every Thanksgiving. The pine forest in the background is beautiful, but ironically is also why the area is under such threat of fire during drought conditions.

For me -- for everyone on my mother's side of the family, it seems -- attachment to houses is unavoidable. A place, a home, our nest. The way I put it to my husband was that my senses are accustomed to our house the way my feet are happiest in old, worn shoes. My eyes get used to the colors, the height of the walls, the way the sunlight streams through the skylights, bounces off the mirror over the mantle, and makes a rainbow on the floor. I walk across puddles of moonlight at night when the moon is in just the right position in the sky. To me, and probably moreso to guests, the smell of our home is a mix of baking (baking, baking...we do it every day), and pets, and us, and unavoidably the house itself. The wood, the paint, the dust all add up to one unique smell that would change if someone else lived here -- and yet if we lived in a different house it wouldn't be the same, either. And of course there are the sounds -- they way some rooms echo a little and others feel close, the creak of the fifth and sixth stairs, the muffled sound the garage door makes -- and they are familiar and comforting. I feel great sadness that the home my aunt spent almost 30 years creating and enjoying is, in one sense, gone forever.

I was talking to my mother today, and we voiced our worry that people will not understand why we are hurting when it wasn't our home that was destroyed. Yet I've been overwhelmed by how many of my friends and family members do understand, and have expressed genuine sympathy. This is one place where this tragedy has reaped great blessings. I don't think I knew before this weekend how emotionally intelligent, kind, and gracious my spectrum of friends is. Shame on me for underestimating them -- but how lucky I am to learn how great the people are who surround me.

My Aunt Suzie's house burned to the ground last night in the Bastrop forest fire.  They took a few photos this morning.

I suppose it helps if you know what the house looked like before.  Suffice it to say, it was a lovely, 3br/2bath, pier & beam home.  It had a metal roof, which is why there's all that corrugated metal lying around in the photos.  Apparently the roof held the heat in so the fire was very hot and burned absolutely everything.  All that remains is the roof and the stone work.

My aunt is an amazing person.  She is taking this unbelievably well.  She was ready for just such an emergency, and had a list of her most beloved and precious things tucked away in her address book.  She calmly gathered everything, loaded them into her car and her son-in-law's truck, and left, warning a few neighbors on her way out.

My cousin Carrie and her husband Carl have been so great throughout this ordeal.  Carl drove to Suzie's, took measures to try to save the house, and helped her load heavy boxes and sculptures (she's an artist) into their vehicles.  Carrie activated the family network, making sure we were all up-to-date on the latest news.

Nothing like this has ever happened in our family, to my recollection.  The only thing that comes close is when our garage burned down in the early 80's, but that was nothing compared to losing your entire home to a fire.  I dreamt last night that the house was saved.  I woke up with the sensation that I was absolutely right, and feeling very happy.  Then I slept again and dreamt that it burned, much in the way that it actually did.  I woke feeling sad and I haven't shaken that feeling all day.

My aunt keeps saying, "They're just things." I agree, but I'm not sure I'd be able to display the grace under pressure she's shown. It's a lesson to me that I need to detach a little from all the detritus of my life. I'm grateful that I've never been forced to do so, under terms not my own.

My mom is so cool.  :)

You know, when I started this blog I thought, "I'll always blog." I knew that blogging was something that would stay a part of me.

Oops.

I'm not saying I'm quitting, but it's funny how I don't make time to write any more. Not sure why. I'm busy? I was busy before. I'm disinterested? No...I still write entries in my head all the time. They never make it to paper.

Dunno. But here's a mini-update.



We've been making regular trips to Oma & Opa's. Here are two recent photos, with more on Flickr of course.





That is all for now!

Johanna is growing her last four teeth -- the pointy, mean cuspids -- before the final set of molars arrives in a few months. She is MISERABLE. But we went to Zilker this morning anyway. Had fun with friends riding the Zephyr, feeding the birds, playing on the playscape, and eating lunch. Took only a few photos, but here's evidence of our newest achievement: hair clips!



In other news, A&M is seeking a new Reveille, and for the first time in many years ever, they're open to appointing a golden retriever as their mascot, rather than a collie. I think this is terrific, but I bet there's some debate in ol' Aggieland about this. If there's anything Aggies love, it's tradition. The last six Reveilles have been collies. [Clarification: Only the original, which was a mutt, was anything other than a collie.] To me, it'd be cool to see some other kind of doggie take the spotlight. (Ah yes indeed, the A&M rag, the Battalion, has plenty on this issue. Finer points of the pros/cons here, and a "pro-mutt" article here. Aggies crack me up.)

Last but by no means least, today is my fourth wedding anniversary!  I've been married to the most wonderful man on the planet for four blessed beautiful years.  Happy anniversary, darling!  I love you!  (That last bit was just for John.)

For the rest of you, happy Friday!  And for my fellow SciFi junkies, happy SciFi Friday!  Whee!

Not much time today, so I'll make this one quick. Four things to tell you.

(1) Today's object? If you like vintage furniture, you'll be envious. We got my grandfather's office chair reupholstered. It's gorgeous!!



(2) I got two really cute photos of Johanna & her sister Ellen. This one is sweet. 



And this one totally cracks me up b/c of the look on Johanna's face. So funny!!  Captures exactly how she feels about tummy time.  I see a new userpic in my future.


(3) I make my bed every day. Not because I'm virtuous. Not because I'm a good housekeeper. Not because I'm AR. No... here's why.  If I don't make the bed they'll get all in my sheets with their fur, and their dander, and their kittylitter-paws...ugh!

(4) Johanna is TEETHING. I can't believe I asked, several months ago, "Could she be teething early...?" Uh, no. This is teething. I now know. She's cranky. She cries and fusses and obviously is very uncomfortable -- sometimes even in pain. We gave her Tylenol last night after 30 minutes of inconsolable fussing and chewing, and she went *zonk* to sleep 20-25 minutes later.  Almost an hour after her normal bedtime, totally exhausted. My poor little babe! I hope this doesn't last long. Photos of the toofers will be posted the nanosecond they emerge....

That is all!  Yay for Tuesdays!

I'm in a crummy mood. I'm sure it's hormonal. Not scary, Brooke-Shields hormonal. Just typical, monthly hormonal. Still. *sigh* and *bleh* Just...*sigh* and *bleh*.

Here's an artsy-fartsy photo of the GORGEOUS flowers John got me for our anniversary. He knows I love carnations. The arrangement was byooooteeful! But I couldn't get a good photo of it. This was the best one I got and the colors are all wrong b/c I accidentally had the white balance all screwed up. So I'm calling it artsy-fartsy. Which is my way of saying it probably sucks but whatever.

 

Speaking of John, I must say, even though I'm in a bad mood I've been thinking a lot today about how much I love my husband.  He keeps me laughing.  He has the best sense of humor.  I'd tell you how he makes me laugh, but it might not be funny to you, y'know?  But what the hell.  The baby is asleep, and I'm in the mood to write (why does being down sometimes make me want to write, and sometimes make me NOT want to write??), so here goes.  This is a really simple, recent example.

Yesterday morning I made cookies for a party we attended that evening.  The standard recipe, which is such a hit around here I bet I'll never make another kind of cookie again, sheesh.  Anyway, when I was done, I put the fresh new cookies in a tupperware to take to the party.  There were about 10 extra that didn't fit, so what did I do?  Like any good former food-service worker, I took all the older cookies out of the cookie jar, put the fresh ones on the bottom, and loaded the older ones back in on top.  It's called rotating stock.  It's important.

So I announced this, proudly, to John when he came into the kitchen.  He said, "Oh!  So no one ever gets a fresh cookie! Brilliant!"  I protested that he, Ellen, and I had all had a shot at piping hot fresh cookies, so what was he complaining about?  He said he was just kidding, and yes it was nice of me to be so conscientious about these kinds of things.

Later that afternoon we were in the kitchen, talking about...I don't know.  Just something random.  He flipped open the cookie jar, got out a cookie, took a big bite, and went, "BLEAH!"

It was so funny!  I laughed and laughed.

I love it when he makes me laugh unexpectedly like that.  Just now I had a cookie...and I smiled.  I'll probably think of that the next 14 times I have a cookie.  And I'll smile.

But still. My negative mood persists on this day. I'm having a lot of depressing thoughts.  Like, I was nursing Johanna before her afternoon nap and I got so sad thinking of all the children in our culture who don't get the kind of care I'm able to give my daughter. I feel pretty confident that one reason Johanna is such a delightful child is because she has a calm, predictable life; she gets so much affection and positive attention; she is thoughtfully cared for; and her family has strong, loving relationships.  And of course...we all laugh quite a lot around here.  Laughter is important.  But some children have to cope with unbelievable stresses and traumas before they're even able to walk.  Others have parents who are adequate...but ill-equipped, or overwhelmed, or just plain disinterested.

I don't mean to brag.  I'm not the perfect mother.  But I am extremely lucky to have a healthy child, and to be in a situation where she can benefit from the full force of my desire to do the best job I can at caring for her.  How many people can say that?  How many people are so stressed by the very real problems life so often dishes out that they don't have the energy to give their kids the best of what they've got?  Even though they want to?  Sometimes I'm so damn tired that I desperately want to crawl back into bed and sleep for days, but I'm able to push off that desire and focus on whatever I'm doing (changing Johanna, playing with her, feeding her, bathing her, cooking dinner, doing laundry...the list goes on) because I'm secure in the knowledge that eventually I'll get a break.  My husband and my step-daughter help out all the time.  Thanks to my family, I have an amazing support structure that gives me the luxury of making Johanna my full-time job.  How unbelievably fortunate does that make me?

I dunno.  I'm spoiled.  Raising a child is the hardest job I've ever had.  I don't know how people do this alone.  Heck, I don't know how the women of my parents' generation -- upper-middle class, privileged women -- did this without the support that today's dads provide.  

And WTH?  Why am I glum thinking of all this?  Why aren't I celebrating my good fortune?

Hormones.  And ...*sigh* and *bleh*.  Sorry people.  Today...that's all I got.

Or something like that.  A long time ago, Gardener Mike made a comment to that effect regarding his kids: boy first, then girl.  This is apparently the preferred order for most Westerners.  I'm only having one, so it's not a question for me, but I've still been thinking about it lately, for no good reason.  Here're my thoughts.  (Although I have stepkids, I just want to mention that my opinion is based on all the kids I've met over the last few years, plus my own experiences growing up.)

Having a boy first is better.  Why?  Because when you have a girl first, if the kids are even remotely close in age, the girl will seem soooooo much more mature than the boy for at least three or four years.  Here's the deal.  Girls mature earlier than boys -- way earlier -- and it seems like the average onset of female puberty is getting younger all the time.  Some girls start menstruating as early as elementary school, and along with all those (damn) hormones comes physical puberty.  But boys?  For the most part, they don't start showing outward signs of puberty 'til 7th grade or so.  They sure as heck don't start shaving until high school, for the most part.  Point is, to my experience, boys don't start looking like young men until well into high school.  

Let's say you've got an oldest girl, and she starts looking and acting like a young woman in, say, the 6th grade.  Or...she tries to, anyway.  And she successfully presents herself as an honest-to-goodness young adult by the time she's entering high school.  Her little brother, two or three years behind her, hits the sixth grade...and he's still making you crazy with his seemingly immature behaviour.  Uh-uh!  Unfair!  He's not scheduled to hit puberty for several years.  Still, he suffers by comparison.

To give a counter example, and really I'm very sorry if this is TMI (consider yourself warned and stop reading now!!), I started menstruating when I was in the 5th grade.  My brother, who is three years older than me, didn't hit his growth spurt 'til the next year, when we spent a year in the Netherlands and he was in the 9th grade.  So there I am, having to buy tampons, but my 3-years-older brother is still a little shrimp.  (When we left for NL, he was a kid.  When we got back to the States a year later, he'd grown, like, a foot.  For serious.  He's 6'3" now.  Heh!)

I don't know why I'm preoccupied with this right now.  Perhaps it's yet another way for me to convince myself that I'm okay having one child -- you know, telling myself that I wouldn't want a girl-then-boy birth order, sour grapes kinda thing.  Nor would I want two girls.  But...neither of those things is true.  I'd be thrilled with a girl-then-boy, or two girls, or a girl and two boys, or five girls!  I love being a mother.  But I am learning to accept being the mama of an only, and the stepmama of two.

I feel like I should reiterate, as if you didn't already know, how completely and totally thrilled I am with Johanna.  Sometimes it scares me how much I love her.  And I'll admit it...I wanted a girl.  When I got pregnant, I told myself that either would be fine.  And either would have been fine!  But...not so secretly I was overjoyed when I learned I was having a girl.  I knew even then that it was very likely that I'd have just one, and if that was to be the case, I wanted that one to be female.  I think the main reason is that I have such a wonderful relationship with my mother -- really , it is one of the most special and important parts of my life, to this day.  So I think I wanted to try to re-create that to some degree.  I know I need to be careful about trying to relive the past -- but it's also true that a child who is mothered exceptionally well, as I was, will often turn into a similarly good mother, which I hope to be.  If I'm even 1/5th the mother my mom is, I'm doing really well.

Anyway, back to the order of kings.  Don't get me wrong.  In the long run I don't think birth order matters all that much.  Nor do I think the mix of boys/girls matters.  The most important thing is having healthy, happy children and nurturing them carefully and joyfully -- treating parenthood like the most important job you've ever had in your life.  The order they're born in, or the sign they're born under, or the difference in their ages won't make a spit of difference if you don't get those other things down first.  

Nevertheless, it is interesting to think about.  For me, at least.

---

PS -- I'm pre-posting for the weekend since we'll be out of town.  LJ doesn't appear to hold, then post, and the next few entries will be out of order, but oh well.  I want to have a post for every date, damnit!  This is my Mother's Day post.  So...read it on Sunday if you prefer.  :)