Dear G-d. Please let these suitcases be under 50 pounds.

Look. I honestly admit that I over pack. I couldn't lie about that. One trip with me and you would see right though my ruse. But in the past few years I have tried to be more strategic, packing reusable outfits, less shoes, and when I visit my 'sisters' in NYC, packing little and letting them dress me.But seriously, I am going to Israel for FIVE MONTHS! This is no ordinary, stay in a hotel, relax by the pool vacation! There are needs here! Toiletries, bedding, towels, okay I know I can buy them all in Israel but why spend the money if I have some I can just leave there! And clothes... okay, I need casual clothes for school, dressy clothes for shabbat and chaggim (holidays). I need summer clothes for when I get there and winter/chilly/rainy clothes for a few months in.Basically, the schizophrenia overwhelmed me and there I was with about 6 suitcases worth of clothes, shoes, and accoutrement that had to fit into two bags, under 50 pounds. After much hemming and hawing, we made it! I officially have two checked big suitcases hovering at 50 pounds, one smaller rolling carry on bag, and a backpack carry on... and a pillow. What if they stop me and tell me I can't have the extra carry on. I mean you are allowed one carry on, one personal item. Does my pillow push me over!? What if any suitcase is too big or too heavy?! Everything is carefully packed to the breaking point!At some point it is just out of my hands and into G-d's... and Delta's. My dear brother came with me to JFK... maybe because he wanted to say goodbye but more likely to see if they would actually take the bags."Miss, please come forward." "Yes, uhm, here is my passport and ticket." "Great, put the bag on the scale." (Now running through my head... all excuse to use and tears lined up if it is over the weight...) "Great, next bag." "Wait WHAT!?"I look at the scale. Big Green Bag (heretofore known as BGB) = 50 lbs. ON. THE. DOT.Big Purple Bag (BPB) goes up = 47 lbs.What flashes in my mind? I could have totally packed 3 more pounds of stuff in there! HA! Never overlook an opportunity but the bags slip away into the bowels of JFK to be regurgitated into my plane.My dear brother spends about an hour sitting with me in the cramped and very uncool lobby of the Delta terminal of JFK before we decide to part ways.I, of course, turn into a watering pot while he stays calm, cool, and collected. He waits while I wait in line to security. As I put my things on the conveyor, I look up... he's gone. He was my last thread connecting my physically to my family, friends, and life in the United States. And with that, voila, it's cut. I start my swim out to sea.Next... Traveling Talia for Tishrei, Pt. 1

Living in NYC is nothing like living in Colorado

Okay, I mean yes, that is somewhat of a 'DUH' statement but it really hit us once we were settled into Ronin's new apartment.1. NO AIR-CONDITIONING!! WHAT?! Seriously, like the hottest summer on record and no relief. I would sit on an air-conditioned subway car all day rather than sit in the sticky, hot apartment.2. Teeny, tiny spaces! Bathroom = small. Bedrooms = small. Living room = small. Kitchen = small. Elevator = small. I have to say, though, that I am way impressed with New Yorkers. They really know how to make their space work for them!3. "Hey I have an idea, let's just stick a shower head in the middle of the wall and call it a shower." Yes, it spews water... but really, can we call that a proper shower? Whew! You seriously had to choose a side to shower on because the water stream was perpendicular to the tub... not parallel with it...4. Hey Denver ladies, I know you love your high heels but unless you are a Real Housewife of NYC, you just can't wear heels in NYC... no matter how hard you try. Okay so some women might have callused feet of steel but for the most part you have to walk 5 blocks to get the train, down a ton of stairs, stand in the train for 20 minutes, up the stairs, walk 10 blocks to get to where you are going... no real exceptions. Thankfully, NYers have style and have found super cute, fashionable flats. :)And I could go on but basically, my bro and I had a blast hanging out for a week together and getting to know his neighborhood and neighborhood Pinkberry. It was a really amazing time together and I am so glad I got that special bonding time with Ronin before I left for my long adventure in Israel. As a big sister, I felt good knowing that he was safe in his apartment, knew where everything was, knows how to get places, and will really enjoy his time in the City... continuing to make me jealous that he has a NY, NY 100.. address before me. :)Next up - Dear G-d. Please let these suitcases be under 50 pounds.

Which bridge is this and why did I just pay a toll?

Knowing that our decision/ need to be in Manhattan by 10am would leave us driving through major traffic, we left early from New Jersey. I think we were both apprehensive about the next leg, the moving into the apartment phase. Before this was just a fun road trip, now reality is setting in.Shira gave us directions and they were very helpful... until we hit the George Washington Bridge. That is when the trouble started. We went to the cash lane only to find out that they weren't taking cash. They told us to call the toll people... but before we could figure this out, the honking started. So we headed over the bridge. We were excited and nervous and then we realized we couldn't find the right turn... and then perhaps we passed it, and then we realized we were in the Bronx and then somehow we got on the RFK bridge. (For those playing the home game, GWB was $8, RFK was $5.50.) Crap. Okay so we are over the RFK and realize we are in Queens heading towards Laguardia. We turn around, go on the RFK again (+$5.50). Then we think we have this in the bag... until Ronin said one thing, I hear another and we end up on the on ramp to the RFK AGAIN! So we have no choice, (+$5.50) and we take the bridge. But instead of going all the way to Queens, I get off at the little island and turn around. Back over the bridge (no toll that time, odd) and we finally get out of our crazy loop! Heading through Harlem, we find the check in office and Ronin runs in to get his packet and keys. Meanwhile, it is after 10 and the movers are waiting for us.Once he was squared away with the check in, we drove one street over to his place on W 118th St. I park in front of  fire hydrant (so NYC, I know) and the guys help us get his stuff into the apartment. Oh, I suppose I am skipping an important part... the leak. So Ronin can't get into his apartment. The door is stuck. He gets is Super to help him and as his Super walks in, he gets a drip on the head. The ceiling is leaking. Turns out, when they were putting a new bathroom in upstairs, they nicked a pipe and all summer the pipe had been leaking. By the time we finished getting everything upstairs, part of the bathroom ceiling was on the floor and they were beginning major repairs. Wonderful. Except, it is a Friday... so they wouldn't finish until Monday.Since we had the minivan until 4, we decided to take it to the new Target in East Harlem so we can move any big items we buy. It is a very interesting experience, this urban Target. Very different than what Ronin and I were used to in Colorado. However, we were very glad to have the car. We got him a desk and chair as well as a bookshelf and some other items that were much easier transported in a car than on the bus. Again, we unloaded the car and went to return it. Ronin decided to drive this time. What an adventure. We are driving down Amsterdam and Broadway to 12th st. (aka very far from 118th st). There was so much traffic but eventually we made it... though we weren't sure how you could have a car rental place in the middle of the city (they use some spots in an underground garage). Once that mission was complete, it felt like one weight had been lifted off our shoulders... only to be replaced with others.We walked up the block looking for lunch (it was after 2...) and found a great organic place where we indulged in fresh beet salad and delish empanadas along with fresh juice. Revived, we set off to catch a 1 train back to Ronin's brand new apartment.Next installment - Living in NYC is nothing like living in Colorado.(Hope to have it out soon but forgive me if it is delayed. Rosh Hashanah is this week and it melds into Shabbis so I will we down and out for 3 days.)

The Sibling Drive(ry)

Before I get started, my mother has requested that I put in writing and in public that I asked her to force me to cull my belongings when I get home and get rid of a lot because I certainly do not want to move it all again!Now, we left off with the packing of the car and sleeping. Tuesday (Aug 17) morning we woke up, ate, got ready, did last minute things... it was sort of emotion on hold... trying not to get emotional because we weren't leaving quite yet but sometimes the tears just spilled over. Both my brother and I had a difficult time with our tummies... nervous stomachs, you know. After breakfast and some ginger tea we made our goodbyes (I won't say final because we will all be together again soon, imertzah Hashem - G-d willing). It was a bit of a flashback for me. I remember being at the wheel of my car, loaded up so high I couldn't see out the back, leaving in the morning for Los Angeles. My family all in their pjs waiving at my from the driveway... same deal here only I wasn't alone. My dear brother was with me. I offered to start the drive (Kansas is a good way to get my mind of the emotion... or so I thought). Hugs were given, last minute bits and bobs shoved through the windows and my collective family "pushed" the minivan down the driveway and off we went.I, being who I am, started chattering away uncontrollably. That is one way I deal with the stress and emotion. My bro was rather silent (his technique). And we were off.We got ourselves into the middle of nowhere Colorado and had to make a pit stop (one of many to come). It was at that point that I realized we were really on this adventure and would not likely see this stretch of road for a long time. But more than anything, I was looking forward to making it through Kansas and into Missouri where we would spend the night. That first day was a very long one of driving. 12 + hours!I didn't know what to expect when my brother and I were locked into a fully jam packed minivan for four days. As children we had been known to bicker and fight but as we grew older we have grown closer. That doesn't mean that we don't still bicker on occasion. We helped each other navigate and kept each other awake. We also let the other sleep when needed. We got drinks and food for the other and changed the CD when necessary. In fact, we had a great time with the audiobooks! We listened to the whole of a really wonderful book called Shibumi by Trevanian. I cannot recommend this book enough! There are some slow parts but over all, it is facinating!Anyway, we finally arrived in our hotel in Columbia, Missouri (we thought that was pretty funny as Ronin was on his way to NYC to start Columbia University) only to find out that Hotels.com screwed up our reservation. This seemed to be a theme of the trip and I will strongly tell anyone who asks and even those who don't, DON'T USE HOTELS.COM! They did not get one single thing right on our trip.Regardless, our hotel was very nice, if smokey, and we passed out. The next day we were off to Cincinnati to visit some landmarks from our father's side.First we saw our great-grandparent's place of internment. They both were very humble people and chose to be cremated and kept at this location. Here is the only real remnant of these two amazing people.Then, by total accident we ended up on Riddle Lane. That name jogged my memory. Where had I heard that before? Ah, of course, my father spoke of it with such fondness. It was where my great-grandparents had a home. We called our dad and found the address. It was easy to find and we snapped a few shots of the iconic porch... well iconic to our father. He has an image of his grandmother holding him as a baby there, as well, it was where they told her that I was on my way!How does it compare?It is amazing to think that they lived there 60 years ago! It was quite a nice experience.From there it was a short hop to the Hebrew Union College, American Jewish Archives to see our great-grandfather's papers. What a trip!We were brought into this amazing reading room and a cart was wheeled out with boxes of papers that were saved by or for my great-grandpa. Incredible! There were handwritten bills from when he was living in a boarding house in Germany! It had charges for eggs and bread on them! There were also letters that will help us track some family lost in the Holocaust from his side. Ronin and I had an amazing time searching through the papers!We had such a delightful time. It was so sad when they had to close. From there, our next stop was Dayton. Ronin had a friend to visit and I had a date with a beer and a bed. Both of us had a lovely time!Thursday we stopped once again in Ohio to check out one more spot and then made the long trek to New Jersey. Whew! That was another long stretch. Another 12 + hour day but Pennsylvania was just beautiful. I would love to spend more time there. My only issue was that the highway was a toll way! How annoying! We arrived at the Weber's house safe, sound, and sleepy. After some lovely catching up (we hadn't seen them since Ronin was a baby), we headed to bed for a short sleep.Friday was NYC day... and boy did we need our rest!Tomorrow's edition - Which bridge is this and why did I just pay a toll?

Packing up is a hard thing to do

Note: Inspired by my friend Erin over at Dec-O-Blog, I have decided to post my adventures from the start, despite the fact that I am already at one major end destination. Follow the fun!Probably the worst experience in my whole world was packing up my apartment for storage and packing to live in Israel for 5 months and packing to be driving for 4 days and 7 days in NYC. Now I know what you are thinking, "Duh, Talia, packing ALWAYS sucks!" Yes, you are right. Packing always sucks. This just sucked harder. What goes into storage? What goes to Israel? Oh crap, I don't have enough room for that to go to Israel. No more boxes, just shove stuff into bags... it was madness. In fact, I had hoped to take pictures to post of this whole process but I was just so overwrought, I couldn't deal with that.Finally, on Sunday the August 15, my very wonderful and dear friend Ben joined me to get my truck. Then the very nice movers came and helped me move everything into a Uhaul and then into my parent's basement. Note to my readers: Uhaul has a great service on their website that helps you find movers to help you pack, unpack, load, uload, and/or clean. I highly suggest this to EVERYONE! In Denver it is only $15 per person per hour. I hired two guys for three hours and it was well worth it. (Read: no carrying things down three flights of stairs.) Not to say I didn't walk my butt off on those stairs but it was great. I gave my brother all my non-perishables (rice, beans, pasta, quinoa, etc) and my parents all the rest of my food, ziplocs, foil, cleaning supplies etc. I have always been a horder when it comes to that stuff. I am always worried that I won't find it on sale again so I make sure I am stocked up... hence, a lot of crap to move.The next step was packing for Israel. I thought I had this under control but... no... not even close. When a fourth of what I had planned to take filled up my allotted two suitcases, I knew I was in trouble and in true Talia fashion, I freaked out and called my parents. I hate doing this stuff alone! My mom's sage words of advice were this - throw it all into trash bags and get it to our house, we will help you sort it out. After a few late night trips back to the apartment with and without my mom to finish the last minute stuff and clean the place, I ended up sweaty and dirty at my parent's house ready for a shower... such was not my luck. My step-mom, in her truly brilliant-ness had us all stay up until nearly 3am sorting out the things for Israel until it became a manageable pile. Then shower and bed. WHEW!The next day was more sorting and picking then running around and helping my brother. Oh didn't I mention? He was moving too... to NYC. Yeah, good planning! :) So we got our rental minivan and loaded his stuff up. That night, my father (who is the king of packing) helped me roll my clothes and with the assistance of many space bags, I managed to get my necessaries into two checked bags at 50lbs and one rolling carry-on and one backpack! WHEW! YAY! Then they got shoved into the minivan and we slept.During this whole process I really realized how much I have in my life, not only to be thankful for the good fortune to have things but also that there are many things I am sure I don't need. My Israeli wardrobe consists of a lot less than all I own and a LOT less shoes. It is hard to part with it all but we will see where I stand in January. I imagine it will be a nice homecoming to my closet!Now I know some of you are wondering, Talia, how in the world are you going to manage it when you come home and have a bunch of Israeli purchases?! Here is the answer... much of what I brought will stay here. I am sure I will wear out some clothing but mainly, I brought comfort things for the dorms here. There are none or few hangers, a very hard bed, and no towels. Here's what I brought that will be left here:

1. twin sized jersey sheets (the soft material) - I don't own a twin sized bed anymore
2. mattress pad with a bit of cushion
3. egg crate pad for the bed
4. two old towels (I have literally had them since camp in middle school)
5. a bunch of old wash cloths
6. a small bath mat/rug for near my bed
7. toiletries
   1. shampoo & conditioner
   2. face wash
   3. body wash
   4. toothpaste
   5. lotions
   6. hand soap

Pretty much... I think I might have an empty suitcase on the way back to fill with goodies! No, really, I know you must be thinking that is excessive but when I arrived in Israel it was the nicest thing to have familiar sheets, a soft bed, and toiletries. And I don't mind leaving it for others who might want or need it here. :)Well, there is part 1 of my trip. Look for part 2 tomorrow... The Sibling Drive(ry)!

On the road

My brother and I are on the road to NYC right now... A nice brother/sister road trip before I leave for Israel. Don't have much time or energy to write right now but once we land in NYC, I promise to update. And be ready... there is a special friend joining the adventure!Before I leave you, we stopped in Cincinnati today to visit my great grandparents' internment, their home from 70 years ago (I have a picture of my Nanny (great grandma) holding my dad as a baby on that porch and that is where they told her that my mom was pregnant with me), and the archives of correspondence, pictures, and writing that they donated to the American Jewish Archives at the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati. It was pretty incredible.Here are some photos we took today -

Family in all it's glory

This past long weekend I visited my aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandmother in Kansas with my family. We wanted to squeeze a visit in to my grandmother before both my brother and I go off on our adventures. It was an incredible visit. I enjoyed seeing the younger cousins growing up and, as my aunt pointed out with the older ones, the age difference doesn't see quite so huge as we get older (though 30 and 15 are still quite different!).Seeing grandma was heart-wrenching in the best way possible. In fact, just writing that sentence and I got a lump in my throat and started tearing up. My relationship with my father's mother is fairly unique, even in relation to my brother and cousins. You see, I was the first grandchild and for the first six or so years of my life, we lived in the same house with my grandparents. One of my very first memories in my entire lifetime was being not quite two, in my great grandmother's room with my grandpa, grandma, and father the day she died. From my first breath, we were all a family. No lines were drawn between generations. We were all one. On my hardest days I find myself pulling on the memories of us all in that giant house in White Plains, New York. The deck out back where I would swim in a baby pool, the dining room and dining room table where I stole freshly washed grapes laid out to dry, hitting my head on the marble table my uncle hit his head on when he was little, the double attics where my small part of the family lived, feeding the ants on the sidewalk out front with grandma, getting into trouble with my faux 2 year old boyfriend Ricky, stuffing freshly made meringue cookies in my mouth illicitly, or planting MY garden grandma had made for me where the concrete path had cracked. For me, that time in my life is the touchstone. Nothing else ever lived up to the idyllic days of White Plains.Grandparents (both sides... I was the first grandkid all around) were best friends. So losing them has been some of the hardest moments in my lifetime. I remember each one. I remember losing Nanny too (great grandma). And (shhh don't tell) I still talk to them.So this weekend was pretty hard. I came home feeling brittle. Just talking to me could break me. I am straddling this line of adulthood and adventure with the want and need to crawl into grandma's lap and be 3 again.However, despite the difficulties, there were so many joys. My nephew turning 13, watching Mimi and Jonathan interact as very independent 8 year olds, being the passenger for 15 year old Zahava while she drove, and interacting with everyone as an adult. My Aunt Kay and I discovered we were kindred genealogical souls. We both love genealogy and have joined forces to fill out our family trees. It is all so exciting. We made so many discoveries this weekend and it was twice as good having each other to share it with. We found pictures of great great grandparents and lots of papers. But at this moment, I find myself staring at a ring. It was part of what I was given this weekend. My Nanny's college ring. Rose Hentel Cronbach, class of 1914. I remember the day I said, "She's in my heart, poppa," when she died. She's in my heart and on my hand and always with me.Family is just amazing.

My Tatti Taught Me A Little Shuckel…

Okay, I admit it... I don't have the best memory in the world but there are a few things from my childhood that stick out clearly. I have mentioned some of them before, here in this blog, but with Father's Day rapidly approaching, I have asked my team to write about their father's and how they shaped their Jewish life. And so, I thought I would talk about the memories from my childhood of my dad.

My dad and me, 1983ish... these were called "Tali-Ups"

The men in my life have always figured prominently. Not sure why. Maybe because I was the first grandchild, a little girl, and they all felt protective of me. But either way... I was always close with the men... my grandfathers and my father. I think another thing that factors in is that my men were also always my rabbis. From birth I was dressed up and my picture taken for the newspaper... in my grandfather's ark, lighting candles with my father, you know what I mean.

But here is the memory I was alluding to earlier. My father, though he was an ordained Reform rabbi, was a bit more observant than typical. He liked to have Saturday morning services. He would always try to get a minyan together but it didn't often happen. I remember one Saturday morning, going to shul with my dad. There were a handful of men there and we were davvening the shachrit service. I was half-focused and maybe all of 9 at the time. I would play with my dad's tzitzit, crawl behind the behemoths that stood on the bimah... and when we got to a part I knew, I would daven. Well all the men were rocking back and forth and so I did too... thus began my fascination with and love of the shuckel. Shuckling is a "ritual" swaying front to back and side to side. In fact, I find myself doing it right now as I write this. Anyway, I had the shuckel down pat! I overheard one man say to my dad, "Well she's got the moves right, now she needs to learn the words."

Fast forward a few years to four months before my bat mitzvah. I am 12 years old and we are on an El Al flight for our first trip to Israel as a family. I was a fairly intense kid and felt my Judaism strongly. (This is shortly before I began wearing a kippah everyday as well as a talit katan - the tallis undergarment that Orthodox men wear.) I had all sorts of plans for Israel, including but not limited to dressing as a boy and sneaking onto the men's side of the Kotel, the Western Wall. (I assure you, I have figured out an appropriate way to express my enthusiasm for Judaism... 18 years later.) The flights to Israel are very long (around 13 hours) and inevitably, it comes time to davven either shachrit (morning), mincha (afternoon), or maariv (evening) services. When the time came, Orthodox men went around asking men to join them in the back of the plane for a minyan. I told my father that I wanted to davven too. He told me to grab my siddur (prayer book) and come along. Out of a level of respect, I didn't jam myself into the back where all the men where (many sects of Orthodox Judaism forbid men and women from praying together or touching) but I stood alongside my father while we davvened. I was not spared the dirty looks though and one man said to my father, "she isn't allowed to do this." To which my dear, sweet abba (father in Hebrew) replied, "If you were truly focused on your prayers, you wouldn't even notice she was here." Chastised, he harumphed and went back to davvening.

That is how my relationship has always been with my tatti (yiddish for father). He has always been my staunchest ally and defender. But not blindly. He has always challenged me to think for myself and perhaps rethink some things. He never expected, commanded, or demanded much from me in so many words. He was always gentle and kind and treated me like an adult. He explained things to me with more patience than I currently explain technology to him (sorry, tatti) and he showed me by example how dear Judaism was to him.

One thing that I can never thank my parent's enough for was the way the kept my brother and I engaged in Judaism. I never recall being forced to be Jewish, rather they showed us the beauty of our faith in every sector (from Orthodox to Renewal) and educated us in other faiths (I have been to dozens of churches and mosques). During the Passover seder, when the Four Children ask their questions, I was always struck with the answer, "It was because of what G-d did for me in the land of Egypt." That was how my parents approached Judaism. This is what is important to ME, how does it feel to YOU.

I remember one defining moment as a teen. My aunt and uncle were badgering me, much to my dismay. At one point they made the statement, well of course you will marry a Jew. And just to spite them (and without much thought) I said, well I don't know. Maybe I won't.
They immediately ran to my parents and told them what I had said. My dear father came to me and we had a talk. He expressed how important all the holidays were to him and how much he enjoyed them as a family. He expressed that he hoped I one day had a family and that we would all share in these traditions. And he reminded me that at that point in his career, he didn't perform interfaith weddings and could not do my ceremony if that was my choice (he has since altered this policy, having nothing to do with me). I was heartbroken. How could my thoughtless words have hurt my father so much? How could I have said these things that I wasn't sure I meant? There were repercussions that I hadn't thought of.

I am thankful for my lineage. I am thankful for my grandfathers, on both sides, who both held their families together in difficult times and gave me my parents. And on this father's day, I am thankful for my Tatti/TattiSan/Abba/AbbaSama/Dad/Daddy/Father.

My dad and me. 2010.

Dad - Thanks for passing on your love of all things odd to me. Thanks for tolerating my teenage inability to listen. Thanks for trying over and over to teach me Hebrew. Thanks for being my favorite rabbi. Thanks for always looking at all sides of an issue and helping me do the same. Thanks for answering the phone at 3am when I was calling collect from a public phone booth on the top of Mt. Masada in Israel.

And thanks for imbuing in me a love of Judaism, my people, my homeland (Israel), and pride. Love you, Ta. Love, Twe.

Originally posted at Patheos' Modern Midrash blog.

Love/Hate

Things that I love -

• Rainstorms
• My family (even if they are crazy)
• Clean sheets
• Squash (... I'm not even a little bit kidding, and yes, I mean the veg)
• A night out with friends
• Learning new Jewish "stuff"
• Catching Sherlock Holmes/Hercule Poirot/M*A*S*H*/Murder, She Wrote on tv randomly
• Making new friends
• Writing letters and postcards by hand & using the postal service to mail them
• Benefit blush (shallow, I know... but I do love it) & mascara
• My besties that I rarely see because I live by mountains and they live by oceans
• Friends who step up and love you when you need it
• People who do random acts of kindness for no reason
• Honest compliments
• QUOTES!

Things that I hate -

• Food that is so spicy that is makes my mouth burn
• When people abruptly stop talking to me
• Intolerance
• Restaurants that don't serve anything that doesn't have pork or shellfish in it (SOME PEOPLE CAN'T EAT THAT STUFF!!)
• Unanswered text messages
• People who hold grudges
• Being judgmental
• Lies (especially the ones that hurt)
• Short rainstorms
• Men who can't grow up & treat people around them like crap
• People who don't know that bacon is pork (okay, it is pretty funny... but seriously!)
• People who you trust but then treat you like crap
• People who manipulate you
• Not being able to let go of the hurt

I saw this quote forever ago and I hang onto it
because I need to remember it -

Never make someone a priority
who makes you an option.
Let the filtering begin.

Kids are funny

Sorry that it's been a long time... life got REALLY busy!

Okay so, I have these awesome friends. They live down the street and their daughters go to ballet at BNC. Really fun and sweet family. I will give them fake names to protect their anonymity (but frankly, if you know me or BNC, you will see through my ruse). So Phad and Sen have 4 little girls. They are 8, 6, 4, and almost 2. Really smart and cute kids.

So I knew the 4 year old (we will call her... uhm... Poxy) since she was very little. When she was a toddler, she was so afraid of these primary colored plastic bugs that you could put the in a circle around her and she wouldn't cross it. SO funny. It was a pretty effective baby gate. But I have to say, I think the youngest (we will call her... uhm... Kaherazade) is the funniest.

Disclaimer, I think Sen is pretty much the best mom I have ever met. She is SO giving me mom lessons when I have kids.

So Kaherazade says many funny things. Lately it is "Bunnies, kill me." What she means is she wants her dad to go out and knock off the bountiful bunnies that have taken over their neighborhood. The girl is serious about this. She found a slingshot and gave it to Phad to get the job done! Tonight, we were getting their house ready for Easter while the three older kids were sleeping and making Easter baskets for all four. Kaherzy saw the stuffed, pink and purple, bunnies for the baskets and she kept saying "outside, outside" like we needed to put the stuffed ones outside and kill them! She was so serious! We had to take the bunnies out of sight.

So Kaherzy gives us many band names when she babbles... we like "Bunnies kill me beyotch." Don't steal it. It's ours. Kaherzy says sh*t, beyotch, a**hole, and my fav... c*ck when she means to say talk. Sorry if anyone is offended but it's hilarious and those words are off limits when she gets old enough to remember.

Beyond anything, my favorite is when she knows they are going to ballet or when she sees me and says "Tayah, Tayah." That sweet voice, blue eyes... dude, I am a big puddle.

The coolest thing about hanging with little kids is how in the moment you become and have to be. You can't worry about bills or problems or tomorrow or yesterday... you are right there, right then. Same thing with animals, I think.

I love kids. :-)
And lordy, I have so many good stories to tell at these girls' weddings. :-)

So, Sen said I could spill the beans and anyway I am doing a superior job of protecting their identities... HA HA... but... Sen is pregnant again! Totally unplanned and she didn't know until the middle of last week but she is almost 6 weeks. I am actually hoping for a boy... Phad needs some support in that house... but you know that kid will be dressed in girl clothes because that is what they have on hand! :-)