The Mama, the Mama! Tradition!

This is an especially fun week around the Devers house, because both Halloween & Wurstfest (two of my favorites) take place. Personally, I am pretty big on traditions. I’m not sure why I care about it since we didn’t have very many when I was a kid, but the few we had really did it for me. Little things – like the fact that my Mom would always make a big spread of random unrelated snack food items on Superbowl Sunday. I didn’t even like football, but I loved the Superbowl. It was something I could always count on. I also enjoyed celebrating Christmas with my Dad on Christmas Eve and even though we didn’t do anything too extraordinary, I came to count on it and it made it all that more fun (for me – the person who NEEDS a plan).

We have many traditions in our household. For instance on the week of Halloween, the kids and I always take time after school one day to make a “scary” treat to enjoy the rest of the week. This week we make skull cupcakes. I had big fun with my little monsters. On the Wednesday (which is “Family Night” – another Devers tradition of making sure we do something together each week) before Halloween we always carve pumpkins. I really enjoy going back through my pictures of when the big kids were little and Emily thought it was sooo gross to scoop the pumpkin guts.

Attending opening night of Wurstfest is a grown up tradition for us. We decided it would be our one thing (well - there is also Vegas) that we will never take the kids to. And even though there is always fun stuff for kids to do, we thought that drunkfest could be just for us. We rarely drink (Especially MWD), but on this is one night that we cut loose and drink a ton of beer and eat a bunch of crap. No kids allowed. Overnight babysitter is a must. Michael calls it our “No Apologies” night. Which means if we see you and we make asses of ourselves – oh well. We always have a blast and we usually remember it (thanks to my camera). This year MWD’s brother, TJ and his wife, Elzora, are coming. I hope we don’t scare them off for good. But if we do – there are no apologies.

We have more traditions than I could even name. And I like it that way. My kids may even carry some of those on to their families, but even if they don’t I think it will create fun and secure environment for them. But, mostly it’s all for me. Remember – the world revolves around me.

Cupcakes!

This year turned out well!

Emily & Daddy 2003

Wurstfest 2003

It's a new life for me . . . and I'm feelin' good

I don't think I'll even try to cover all the changes that have happened since I last blogged. Amazing. My life and the life of my family is so different now. The really short version is that we sold the business and moved to a new house (same town). I am no longer employed. Taking care of the new house and my family is for sure something that could occupy every minute of my day, but I have another venture in mind . . .

On the morning of Friday July 24th, I woke up in the middle of the night with an idea. It was kind of an idea for a young reader book. Something my pre-teen kids would read, but they would call it a “chapter book.” Basically it was based on a dream I had. I got up and put the first chapter in a document and lay awake in bed continuing to write in my head. By the time morning came I was sure it was just silly. I had MWD read the chapter as soon as he was up and he went crazy for it. He was way more excited than I was and he insisted I had to finish the story.

Later that day we went to look at houses with our realtor. We had looked at quite a few houses and nothing really hit us. I pulled one out of the pile that had never been convenient timing for us to look at (per the owners) and asked her to try again.

The outside of the house was nothing exciting, but I had a feeling that we needed to go inside. Even though the décor was not anything like my taste (very French cottage), almost immediately I was attached to this house. As I looked through the kitchen and opened the pantry, my jaw dropped. I had written about this exact pantry and it was a crucial part of my story. I told MWD – “this is James’ pantry”. Not sure he believed me. But I was so pumped. When we got to the last room the owner was in there working. The room had torn out carpet with paint all over the subfloor and the lady was hunched over a giant art desk. When I realized what she was doing, it was kismet. She was a children’s book illustrator. No Way.

We live in this house now. And I am writing my book. My husband is the real writer of our house, but he is incredibly supportive of this project that he keeps trying to spend my first advance check before I even get through the first 10 chapters. He proofs and discusses and remains interested in the story. I’m a lucky gal.

I am going to try to write something here every day that I can manage. It will be my warm up time. My practice so to speak. Staying home is busier than I thought. I have a big house to keep clean and a family to care for. But I hope to write at least 5 days a week.

Here I go new life. Wish me luck.

Now this is real.

It took a little effort, but I copied all my old blogs over. Now this is real time. Kinda. I haven't worked all day - whoop! Took the kids to a birthday party, made taco soup and surfed the internet. It was nice. I think I'll go play Wii with my shorties.

Here is a video I found while surfing the web. I like. Especially the way they represent the value of photos:

The Hippies and the Freaks

Originally posted on Myspace Monday, January 26, 2009 :

I took my kids to the park by my house today (Sunday). It’s a little neighborhood park with a climb-o-rama, a couple of swings and a backstop in a field. We’ve been going up there more lately, since Jack loves to be outside and we don’t have much of a yard. Usually, we are the only ones there, but today was different. There was a crowd of roughly fifteen kids hanging out by some grills they obviously brought. As we settled in, with my shorties screaming (and chasing and climbing) and me with my Ipod perching near to watch over, I couldn’t stop from studying them.

I say they were kids, because they were early 20s and I am now 35 (uggh). The scene reminded me so much of my youth. They were dressed in smart thrift store finds and funky layers. A couple of them had handmade musical instruments and they had three dogs running in circles around the group. I kept drifting back to the days of hacky sac at the tennis courts with so many of my A-Town friends or football in the park with Brad, Ricky and some of my Lubbock peeps. To giant stop-and-go soft drinks and good Thai food. To Randall kids and Canyon kids and Einstein’s and Denny’s. To the skate park and the parking lot across from high school. To Tara Holt’s house or my back house.

I continued my unabashed people watching while listening to music. I always have these heightened sentimental moments in connection with music. Citizen Cope was playing and he (Clarence Gatewood) is probably the same age as these “kids”, so it couldn’t have been that (maybe though - d'artagnan's theme). The group drifted over to the backstop and started a game of kickball. A few of them were smoking and chatting – some were really playing. All of the sudden I felt invisible. Like they didn’t realize I was once like them. At first I wanted them to know. “Hey, I was once like you. I didn’t always dress sensible and shout for children to be careful or they might impair their vision by swinging upside down (can you even do that?).” I got over that urge though and I enjoyed my secret identity.

It seems that until today, I always thought I would go back to that. You know, in the back of my mind. That I was just “taking a break” from those things. I realized today that I am in a new phase of my life now. I’m ok with that. Of course I will have cookouts or go to parks and shows with my friends, but it’s not the same.

These memories serve me well. The guy with the shaved head and the army jacket was Brad Hoover for just a second. And the big head of fuzzy red hair and freckled cheeks had Timmy’s profile. The girl in the colorful beanie was so close to Lauren Moore it was uncanny. That one guy wearing baggy long shorts on a cold day could have easily been Justin Able. That smiling-shy chick with the tattoos and black hair was so similar to Becci Brewer. One by one they all reminded me of someone and sometime. I wonder about these people sometimes. Where they are and what they are doing. I even wonder if they wonder about me.

Now I have park adventures with my family and I enjoy these days just like the ones many years ago. I don’t long for those days (how exhausting that would be). It is nice though. It’s nice to have a reminder of my youth.

Currently listening: The Clarence Greenwood Recordings By Citizen Cope

A Family Business

Originally posted on Myspace Monday, November 17, 2008 :

I was listening to Whiskeytown on my way home from an exhausting weekend with all three shorties in the back. That CD (Pneumonia) always makes me contemplative and sentimental.

We are moving the warehouse back to the store, since it is kind of redundant without any other locations. Trying to tighten up until the economy gets a little better. MWD and I have been working on it for days (him even more than me). It is a lot more work than one would think. We have sooo many CDs and "stuff" to get them shipped. We had all three kids up there all weekend and they were really helping us out. Well mostly the "bigs" were. They were actually taking it pretty serious when I told them it was a "family business" and I was proud of them. Jack wanted to help, but other than putting things in the trash (including things that don't go there) he isn't quite there. My babies are growing up (right).

I'm a lucky gal. My little family is exactly what I had always hoped for.

The store is pretty sweet these days too. All my gals are excited about the changes, pitching in and seem happy to be working there. It's a good feeling.

Currently listening: Pneumonia By Whiskeytown

Gone but not forgotten (sensory overload)

Originally posted on myspace Monday, July 14, 2008:

I had a sensory overload moment this weekend. I have pretty heightened senses. Usually I can find a memory in a song (ask Carra). Michael and the kids call me rabbit ears, because I hear every little comment even when I'm in another room. It's impossible not to overhear most conversations in a restaurant. My true super-power is my sense of smell. Each scent seems to take me to a person, place or thing.

This weekend, I bought a pair of boots. My first pair of actual cowgirl boots since I was a youngster. Like most things I pick for myself, the boots are plain. Nothing fancy, just some boots to call my own. As soon as I got in the car I pulled them from the bag and had my "Mary-Catherine" moment. I put the new leather to my nose and huffed at it like a teenager in a drain tunnel.

Immediately I was filled with memories. Memories that were my own, but completely forgotten. I have three paternal Grandfathers. One that I never knew (met once) and he means nothing really to me. My current one, Papa, that I consider my closest Grandfather figure. He has been constant in my life since my early teens and he loves me and really loves my Grandmother. He's a good man that entered the picture with some serious resentment, because he had big shoes to fill. Those shoes were boots and they belonged to my Grandpa Bill. He was the head of our family and he died when I was about 8.

Grandpa Bill married my Grams when she already had 4 kids. He raised them as his own and added two more to the family. All six of those kids still love that man. Obviously he influenced them in ways that lasted for generations. Some kids in our family that were born after he died, speak of him as if they knew him. He grew up in Minnesota and he and Grandma moved the family to Sunday Canyon (outside Amarillo) after Grandma fell in love with the area on a visit in the early 70s. Grandpa built a house, with his own two hands that was amazing. Really it should have been part of his legacy, but it's not in our family anymore.

Until this weekend, I didn't have very many memories of Grandpa Bill that I trusted as real. No memories that I didn't feel were placed there by stories family had told me. Now I do. While smelling the new leather boot, I had a sensory overload! It was like in the movies when your life flashes before your eyes in snapshots and moments. First it was a saddle. My Grandparents had horses. Actually they had their own stable. They also owned a place called Six Gun City outside Palo Duro Canyon. We all had chances to be part of the background of the simulated gunslinger town. There was everything from my cousins and I riding bareback horses around town to our parents participating in gunfights. Good times.

Most of those memories, I will keep to myself, but I have to admit it was great to remember the feel of his enormous hand enveloping my tiny fingers. He was a big man. We are talking more than size here. Grandpa Bill and I had a special bond. My Dad says Grandpa liked that I had such an attitude already at a young age. I don't know what he means though. I don't have an attitude. I do have some pretty cool boots, though.

Grandpa Bill

Grandpa Bill and Grandma (Circa Six Gun City)

Six Gun City Postcard

My Papa this year

No attitude from this Angel. . . My good smellin' boots

Currently listening: Ultimate Waylon Jennings By Waylon Jennings

Life is hard & I yelled at an old man in a wheelchair

Originally posted on Myspace Sunday, June 29, 2008:

I totally wigged out on this guy yesterday and it's been bothering me ever since. He was in a wheelchair and I thought I was having some kind of guilt for that, which isn't normal for me. I worked with "Handicapable" people for almost 4 years and I look at them the same as everyone else. They can be as good of a friend or as big of an asshole as anyone else.

The actual situation is irrelevant, but just to let me rant . . We took the kids to see WALL-E yesterday. It was really packed in the theater. The kids were all very well behaved (unlike some little shit behind us) and seemed to enjoy the movie. Jack drank about 25 of my 32 ounce soda and took full advantage of the pull up he was wearing (gross). I don't usually let him drink soda, but it was keeping him quiet - so I acquiesced. As usual we were the last ones out of the theater - you know we have to pay our respect to the people who made the movie and when that comes to a Pixar movie that's no small commitment. MWD took Noah and I took Jack and Emily. We hit the ladies room and I realized there was no "diaper changing station". So I went out in the hallway and noticed we were going to need to use the "family/handicapped" bathroom which is apparently the only place to change a diaper without laying your kid on the bathroom floor or trying to get him to step out and into a clean pull up. I could write a whole blog on my last movie theater/pull up changing experience from last time. This time I was using a designated area.

While in the process of relieving Jack of his 25 ounces, someone tried the door. Not too weird. The immediate silence led me to believe the person had moved on. A moment later there is a loud bang on the door, three actually. My reaction was just to say "occupied" loud enough for them to hear. Immediately I heard this nasty creature shout "well, I'm in a wheelchair, so get the HELL out of there." I put hell in all caps because he YELLED it. My first thought was guilt. Then all the sudden I realized that I hadn't done anything wrong. I was changing my kid in the designated area and the guy was cussing at me in front of my kids. "I'm changing a diaper, this is the only place, I will be right out" that was my only response. I put Jack back together & washed our hands as quick as I could. The whole time I can hear this guy mumbling about people using the handicapped bathroom and he is in a wheelchair and it is bullshit and on and on. At this point I was furious.

I flung the door open to this small man with a giant beard and no legs. He was kind of dirty and had this almost stereotypical look of a war veteran, military cap and all. He also had a giant thug in a poorly chosen red shirt standing behind his wheelchair looking like a bouncer for Red Robin. I looked the nasty little man directly in the eye and yelled at him. OK. I didn't yell, but I raised my voice and told him this was the only place for me to change a diaper and that I thought his cussing at me (in front of my children or not) was unnecessary and rude. His only response was even louder "well I'm in a wheelchair, so I have to use that damn bathroom." I was getting nowhere (except more pissed) so I stormed off and waited for Michael.

The whole thing only took place in a couple of minutes, but I was so angry. I couldn't figure out if I just felt sorry for him (for being such a hateful nasty person, not being in a wheelchair) or angry at him for taking his frustrations out on me. Then I came to a place where realized that I should be thankful for what I have: my health, my family, my LEGS. But, by the time I went to bed I decided "f**k that." The guy was just a jerk.

The moral of the story?
Life is hard for everyone. It's what you make of it. There are days when my life is easy and days when it is hard. All of those days are a result of choices I have made. When something bad happens to you regardless of the scale, you get to choose how you handle it. I know people who have (or had) major health issues and are the most positive people in the world (Bunny & Chad for example). They didn't choose to have the problems, but they did decide how they were going to handle it. So again - f**k that. The guy was just a prick.

Currently listening: Nothing’s Shocking By Jane’s Addiction