Of Visits and New Blood

My parents visited this weekend.  It was lovely to see them, but even lovelier was one of the reasons for the visit.  They had brought my new baby with them.

Her name is Ele and she is a 7 month old schipperke.  She joins my 7 YEAR old dwarf schipperke and brings my family to a happy and comfortable four beings.  I hope she brings new blood and new hope and joy into our lives.  I think she is.  She is already a joyful little girl who is oh, so happy, with all of the toys in the house that no other babies steal away (Mum is a breeder, and had six puppies this last go around).  Specka is dealing with this intrusion by hoping it goes away, but I know that they will come round.  They played together at Mum’s when we visited them.  Specka just needs to get used to it.

She is also ALWAYS on the move.  No good photographs to pop up yet, but take my word for it.  You will DIE of the cute.

It was also exceedingly excellent to see my mother.  She suffered a heart attack almost a year ago (another underlying cause in my sudden interest in all things fit) and I cannot adequately describe how it feels to be a day and a half away from a sick parent.  Especially when the child and parent are as close as we are.  I was amazed at how she looked.  She  had lost so much weight and her face, formerly diagnosed as a form of rosacia, was a normal colour for the first time I had EVER seen.  My mother has always had a red face.  Gentle readers, my mother was pink. She lost so much weight, we had to go to the Maul and buy her a whole new wardrobe.  The ladies in Lane Bryant were completely gobsmacked by the amount of clothing we hurled on the counter.  And also, completely helpful; there will be a nice letter going out to the company once I am done here.

My father relaxed and did some serious damage to a case of beer while Sacco sipped margaritas and bonded with his FIL.  We had home cooked meals every day and scrapped plans to go here, here, here, here, and here.  We just hung.  We drank beer and wine and tequila and laughed and told stories about my brother and I that I had forgotten.

My mother told me one of my honorary little brothers was an artist.  A REAL artist.  One who has sold things and everything.  Go take a peek at Mr. Paulson and, ladies, watch out because he is a muscly little thing!!

I had enough wine to drink so I called and yelled at the not so fantastic Mr. Fox.  “How could one of my honorary little brothers be an artist and you not tell me?!?!??!?!  You let me order photos from Budapest, but not pimp out your buddies shiznit?”  For his part he pretty much just giggled at me and gave me Coop’s website address.  I am so buying some of those photos.  I bet the cool face thing is out of my pocket range.

In fact, fuck it.  I am buying ALL the photos.  So pretty.

As the Fox said in his soul stealing post, my family ties are tight as hell.  Is it because of the years where family really only did mean four people alone in a foreign country?  We try to figure it out.  Why, when so many other families are completely fucked, are we growing closer and keeping the customs of our time in the military?  The older I get, the less I care about the “why” honestly.  I just care that it IS.  My family is my world.  My little one here in the south, and the rest in the north.  We are all important and glued together by the cement of blood and tears and hey this bastard has been at our house for literally years at this point if you add up the hours of his visit so I am calling him my brother.

My parents left this morning.  I received a text a minute ago that they were in St. Louis.  They travel further away, but not impossibly so.  My love and thoughts are in that car.  My love and thoughts are in two little cages at home.  My love and thoughts are with a man swinging from a ceiling here in KC stringing a light.  And they are in NY, with all my little brothers and sisters.

Love ya’ll.  It is goopy and schmoopy and I am full of it.

Hugs and light and bright blessings from a very perky goth today.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s