For the past three nights, I’ve dreamed that I am either starring in or auditioning for The Sound of Music. I’m not actually having the same dream over and over- there are different “plots” with different people and different settings each night. However, in every dream, I burst out of somewhere singing “Climb Every Mountain,” which is not even a Maria song, but is still pretty great. As you can imagine, it’s been difficult to get out of bed each morning, especially since the kids generally discourage me from singing to them as they’re getting ready for school. To quote Ella, “TOO LOUD.” Holly’s response: “Ella is four years, going on five years- she can be really mean…” Seriously. The other day, she sang the theme to the Smurfs 16 times in a row, and I didn’t say a word.
On September 29th, my baby brother had a little boy. Or rather, his wife did, but he was there. Then, this past Sunday, another nephew was born to John’s brother and his lovely wife. If baby Zavier was born to my brother Joshua, and baby Joshua was born to John’s brother Richie, then according to the laws of syllogism, Zavier was born to Richie. And this is why math is stupid.
When Zavier was born, I asked myself this hard question: Do I love my baby nephew enough to spend $300 on a plane ticket to Norfolk? The answer: Yes. Yes I do. But I have stuff to give him, so I think I'll drive instead.
Now that I've pretty much raised my own children, I can devote myself to being a doting aunt, which is why I’ve gone and purchased myself the following t-shirt:
|Zavier Paul (Picture brazenly stolen from his maternal grandmother's Facebook page.)|
|Joshua Thomas happily sleeping in his aunt Holly's arms.|
I will miss Jefferson stories. Jeff was part pointer, and would stand and, well, point when he spotted a squirrel or some other creature while walking. Then, he would refuse to budge, making walks difficult.
Jefferson had a tough beginning and initially hated other dogs. To this day, John holds a grudge against Jeff for trying to eat Kiah. My husband is the kind of person who holds a grudge even in death. (He has many other good qualities.)
Personally, I don't blame Jeff. There are days when I want to not eat Kiah, but send her to darkest Peru or Siberia or somewhere. However, Jeff excelled in his anger management classes, changed his ways, and ended up getting along nicely with his beagle housemate, Maizie.
And, of course, my nephew and niece adored him. And he adored them.
Nate wrote this lovely poem commemorating the life of Jefferson the dog:
We loved you so much, we adopted you twice.
You hated other dogs, but to us you were nice.
At your anger management classes, you introduced us to Maizie;
Sometimes you managed to drive us all crazy.
Your boisterous, unconditional love we'll remember the most.
... And all the other things we'll miss can't fit in this post.
You were alone when you were born, but not when you died.
I hope we gave you the best year of your life.
Rest in peace, dear friend.
Jefferson the Dog: c. 2007 - 10/5/11
I never said he was Keats. Still, it teared me up.
Jeff is in a better place now- a place where the hills are alive with the sound of music, where silver white winters melt into springs, where he can follow every rainbow until he finds his dream.
(Fact: you can always write a compelling eulogy based solely on songs from musicals. Tomorrow, I will commemorate the life of Steve Jobs by using song lyrics from "Showboat.")
At this moment, my own 45 lb Aussie is curled up at my feet beneath my desk. She makes my life so hard, but I think maybe I love her, because it's hard not to love someone who truly adores you.
And how blessed my new nephews are, because they are already so very loved by so many people.
A good week.
(This is my 301st post.)