Golden Birthday! (Part One)

It was my golden birthday, so naturally, we threw a huge party to celebrate! It was quite the turnout, and we had a blast spending time with our family and friends. Thanks to everyone who came (some from out-of-state!) and made the party a fun one!

My sister made me a golden tutu to wear. I also wore a tiara that I purchased at a dollar store and spray-painted gold. Needless to say, the outfit was a big hit! (Thanks, Anna!)

As you may know, we have a pretty awesome chalkboard wall in our house, and it was covered with birthday wishes both from literate guests, and ankle-biters, who were more interested in eating the chalk than drawing with it. There are some pretty charming drawings on our wall now, let me tell you:

We had a bunch of guessing jars that were set up: whoever's guess was closest to the amount of candy in the jar won the whole thing! Anna actually won three, so she got to pick which one she wanted the most and the people with the next-closest guesses walked away with the other two jars. I purchased several different-shaped vases from a thrift store, cleaned them out, filled them with golden candy, and topped with fabric, ribbon, and a freakin' cool seal that my friend, Jeana, designed especially for my party. Check out her blog at u-createparties.blogspot.com to see how awesome she is!

We also had a mix and mingle game available to anyone who wanted to play for a golden prize. I punched out these seals that Jeana G. designed (see above!) and slapped them on these candy bars:

There was also a prize given to the person who showed up wearing the most gold and bling! Spencer took the title with his fancy vinyl trench coat and sexy leggings. What do you think: is it a winning combination?

Kirk and I set up a photo booth complete with wacky props, and it has been lots of fun going through all of the photos on our camera from the party:

We had a rockin' good time, and are still trying to recover. More decoration details and photos to come!

Farewell, Matt!

Kirk's brother, Matt, has just embarked on a two-year journey to Ukraine! Hooray! I'm really excited for him. Thank goodness for self-timing cameras. We took the chance to get one last family photo with everyone in it before he left:

He's going to do good things there, and we're all super proud of him!

Angela's Ashes

This was my first reading of Angela's Ashes by Frank McCourt, and this book went straight to my "Books to Buy" list. I listened to the author read his own work, which is usually bad news (you know, interesting book, but a boring person in real life not to mention a terrible performer...) However, in this case I was completely impressed with the text and the audio track. I think it was because McCourt has had theatrical training, and it was fascinating to hear someone read their own memoir.

This is a fascinating book about an immigrant family's struggles in America and on the dole in Ireland around WWII. More specifically, it's about the author's journey from an oppressive boyhood into a liberating adulthood. It is the sad and thought-provoking story that is Irish history, but has extremely humorous parts to balance out the story.

Some great themes to keep your eye out for while reading this gem are:

• blood and animalism: the same blood is found in every creature, basic nature of humans is akin to all animals, animal imagery and symbolism
• religion: the rain and not piety drove them to church, patron saints, the Eucharist, having a sin that no one else has, the schoolmaster telling his boys what their sins are so that the boys know what they are too, the angel on the 7th step, forgiveness
• straddling time and distance: head born in the new year and ass born in the old, rejected by both the traditional world and the modern one, rejected by America and Ireland, America vs. Ireland, America is where there is room for all sorts of uselessness
• debt: there is nothing worse than to owe and be beholden, living on the dole, there is always someone else worse off
• ownership: owning a song or a story, ownership in poverty, having an electric light and lavatory but no good times
• insanity: having to be dragged out of the asylum instead of into it, grief leading to madness
• death and birth: dying animals, dying for Ireland and faith, dying children, adults who still haven't died for Ireland or their faith, death preferable to cold shoulder treatment, troubles beginning the night she was born
• family: roles of family members, father as provider, brothers to help erase memory, American relatives vs. Irish relatives, paternal vs. maternal extended family involvement, telling troubles to earthly father instead of an angel, takes years of practice to learn how to not talk to people

Gorgeous Gal

Someone turned 15 this last week, so we had a sister-to-sister "this year's going to be the best one yet" get-together. Let me tell you that this girl is super talented and has mad skillz in the creative arenas; I love to see what she's working on in her art class and on her own. She has such a quirky sense of humor and isn't easily embarrassed by our wacky family. Can you say keeper? She has the most gorgeous blue-grey eyes and I love that her face shows her good character. This girl's going to do amazing things, so keep your eye out for her.

Watch out, world! This one's coming straight at you, ready or not!

A Most Influential Book

Recently, I finished reading what I consider one of the most influential books in the world, the Old Testament. Not only is it a religious base for Christians, but for Jews as well. Plus, how many other works of literature reference stories and ideas that originate in the Old Testament? The literary canon, my friends, know it and love it.

I'm pretty proud to say that I've read every word, including the Mosaic Law and role-call of Israel (I know, not the greatest plot-line), and I was reminded of a couple of things this time around. The first is that I'm really glad that the Old Testament God is different from the one I am familiar with. Otherwise, I would have been zapped a long time ago.

The second is that reading about the struggles that ancient Jews went through reaffirms in my mind the sad and beautiful history that the Jewish faith carries with it. Theirs is a history full of meaning and tradition, of sorrow and the sublime, and I feel reading the Old Testament has impressed that on me even deeper.

Third, I love the book of Isaiah. His writings can make sense to me and my modern perspective just as it did to the people of his time. His gift for writing anachronistically really speaks to me and I appreciate his poetic writing.

Those Crazy Poets!

My most recent read is a book of poetry by LeRoi Jones called The Dead Lecturer. It's poignant and a bit bitter, which always cheers me up because it adds some substantial flavor to my day. (Interesting note: The author changed his name several times, and is now officially known as Amiri Baraka.)

His poetic themes are powerfully controversial and include the huge topics of religion, race, philosophy, roots, and hatred.

It turns out that after 9-11, Baraka wrote a scathing and politically controversial poem about the attacks, which won him the award of Poet Laureate of New Jersey. The NJ Governor tried to strip the title from Baraka, but had no authority, so after new legislation was passed the following year, the title was officially removed. Baraka filed for legal action but was told that state officials were immune from such lawsuits, so his case was dropped, and the Supreme Court refused to hear an appeal. That would make me livid! I'll bet he has some good poems about that experience.

So, in the spirit of passion that LeRoi Jones was already exhibiting in his earlier work and under an earlier name, I present my favorite poem from this book, "The dance." It totally gives me the chills! (The good kind, like the kind that you get when you glimpse your true potential for a split-second.)


The dance.
               (held up for me by
an older man. He told me how. Showed
me. Not steps, but the fix
of muscle. A position
for myself: to move.

Duncan
told of dance. His poems
full of what we called
so long for you to be. A
dance. And all his words
ran out of it. That there
was some bright elegance
the sad meat of the body
made. Some gesture, that
if we became, for one blank moment,
would turn us
into creatures of rhythm.

I want to be sung. I want
all of my bones and meat hummed
against the thick floating
winter sky. I want myself
as dance. As what I am
given love, or time, or space
to feel myself.

The time of thought. The space
of actual movement. (Where they
have taken up the sea, and
keep me against my will.) I said, also,
love, being older or younger
than your world. I am given
to lying, love, call you out
now, given to feeling things
I alone create.

And let me once, create
myself. And let you, whoever
sits now breathing on my words
create a self of your own. One
that will love me.

Little Burrito

While my sis and her little family were in town for the holidays, we tag-teamed her burrito to get a picture of him smiling. It takes a lot of work, let me tell you: one person to hold him, one to entertain him with the apparently-hilarious garbage bag dance, and one person to (wo)man the camera. Now we can prove to the world that he isn't always The Royal Screaming Burrito, but that he actually has a smile and a giggle. I think we got some pretty sweet shots: