Dear Aunt Emma,

The last few years it has been wonderful to have you living a few blocks away.

I've enjoyed seeing you for holidays and family gatherings.

I loved visiting with you.

We will all notice the empty seat where you should be, but I am grateful you won't have to endure any more surgeries, rehab, or pain.

Love you, Aunt Emma. Rest in peace.

Leap Day Adventures!

I spent the last half hour sitting here trying to figure out how today became such an entertaining anomaly. And then I remembered... it's because of that once-ever-four-years phenomenon called Leap Year.

While subbing for a photo history class, Jason Alexander popped in and told me I needed to demand the prorated price from the teacher I was subbing for (who apparently asked Jason to just say "hi"). There's something about a celebrity reminding you to not undervalue your services that makes you stand a little taller. As for the demands... I'll just let my teacher buy me lunch sometime. Or remind him how helpful I was right around grading time.

Then there was the about-to-be-infamous Chester the Best-er driving incident. You know... the one where she was in MY car driving to the gym with me in the front seat and rather than turning into the drive, she decided to go against traffic, in the bike lane... on the far left side. *sigh* Asian Drivers.

And, of course, the continual urge to go up to Mr. Right and say "Marry me. Marry me now. Or at least help me find a hot Irishman." It worked for Amy Adams, right?

Leap Day...

              You...

                          Are...

LEGENDARY!

Upgrade in Status

Friday, my sister called me.

"I kinda need help on something, but I'm not sure if you can... maybe?." She sounded nervous with a dash of apprehension and a bit of phlegm.

"What is it?"

"Well, Cory and I are in art history--" my ear perked up "--and I just can't figure out a few things."

So she started it, tentatively, with a piece by Cimabue. I corrected her pronunciation and she seemed surprised and elated to finally know how the name was said (Sim-uh-boo-ee). She started to describe which piece.

"Madonna and Child?" I asked.

"Madonna Enthroned," she corrected.

"So, you have Mary holding Christ in the center, with angels around them, prophets below in a really odd use of space," I analyzed as a basic overview.

"You know this one!" Apprehension gone (though still with the phlegm... I think she may have a cold?), the relief that I actually would be able to help seemed to become a reality to her mind and she made her way into asking more questions... about more pieces... each one surprised at the idea that I knew the image and, perhaps, some information about it.

We decided that the quick run through wasn't quite enough and set up to do another session in the morning on Skype. The next day, somewhere between baby talk with my niece and nephew, and actually getting down to business, I told Megan, "I'm excited about this! Here I always kind of thought I'd just be the freak in the family that was way into art history."

"Oh, you're still a freak," she made clear.

"Yes, but now I'm a helpful freak!"

We went on from there, having discussion of Giotto, the proto-Renaissance, tempura, and halos (if you got giddy over any of those terms, you may be a freak like me), and it all helped to reaffirm something I've been figuring out for a while now:

I love teaching!

So the next time you need help with art history, you know who to call. Because no one will be quite as helpful of a freak as me :)

Mini Me

The one on the left is me at 5-6 months, the one on the right is my niece Ava (4 months). Can you tell who she looks like? Somehow she picked up on those recessive Mason genes. As a result, if I never have kids of my own, the stunning good looks will at least continue on!

Baby Names

Our family is infected with needing to find a scheme for baby names.

Mom and Dad went with the M&M theme.... (Mike, Melanie, Mihkel, Marie, Megan, Matthew)

If you think that's bad, Mom's parents did not only all M's, but rhyming middle names. (Michael Layne, Melanie Jayne, Mitchell Dwayne, and Marla Shamayne)

My sister and her husband are taking advantage of the last name Arling by making meaningful initials. Like Christopher Isaac Arling (CIA) and Ava Daphne Arling (ADA). I'm pretty sure FDA, HOA and MIA are in the works.

After a conversation with a friend, I have decided on my own quirky naming scheme. Let's see if you can figure out what it is:

Twin boys

Cole & Brett

Jacques & Henri

Twins (boy and girl)

Leigh & Lander 

Girl names

Julia Margaret

Joyce (this one has a duel reason)

Avadawn

Boy names

Ansel

Sherman

Sergon Hershel

Names that can't be rocked in the 21st century 

 (though I'd wouldn't mind otherwise)

Dorthea 

Alfred

And last... one name I would totally use, except it would be tempting fate ... Diane. 

If you understand the theme and have any other ideas, I'd love to hear!

 

And now I get a little Romantical...

I'll admit that I'm generally the sensible gal who moves forward in life, not in need of a man to make life fulfilling... but sometimes the want comes into play and those times get a little sappy, even for my taste.

Lately I keep having really vivid dreams about having a guy in my life. Sometimes it's just his arm around my shoulder while we're watching a movie, or talking, or (like last night) discussing details with a fiance about our upcoming nuptials whilst boxing up my things to move into his house. (Cheesy, cheesy dreams)

My subconscious is trying to tell me something... and I don't like it. Frankly, the last time I was feeling this way, I ended up dating someone I wasn't as interested in as he was interested in me and I broke up with him when he was in Oklahoma, getting trained to be deployed to Afghanistan. (I'll bet any of you who thought I was nice are coming to the realization that I'm a terrible, awful human being. Now, at least, you know the truth.)

That said, I think back and remember what didn't work for me in that whole dating situation. He was a sweet guy. Probably sweeter than I deserved. He said all the right things--you know... the whole "you're beautiful" bit--bought me flowers, took me to dinners... but it all felt stale. The one thing I remember loving was when he wrote a note or card and gave that to me.

Perhaps I have a very different idea of what romance is. I find it once in a while in lyrics or lines of a play, or a saying. The most recent one I've been hung up on is a part from the book East of Eden. It's when Adam is describing his feelings for Cathy Ames and what she meant to him. He tells Sam:

"A kind of light spread out from her. And everything changed color. And the world opened out. And a day was good to awaken to. And there were no limits to anything. And the people of the world were good and handsome. And I was not afraid anymore."

Wouldn't it be wonderful if someone felt this way about you? And you actually deserve it??? (Anyone who has read East of Eden will know Cathy was definitely undeserving.)

*Sigh* Oh the romantic inside that just won't let go.

What makes you go all Romantical?

Stupid Cute

I consider myself to be fairly smart. Smart enough, in fact, to have pulled off 5 A's, an A-, and one B+ within a 21 credit semester at school. I can carry a conversation about pretty much anything with comparable ease (with the exception of sports... don't try sports with me, because you'll only end up with a humoring smile from me and, I've heard, a headache of monumental proportions).

Somehow, though, a little two month old has the capability of making even the most intelligent people seem completely idiotic. Like when I'm holding my little niece, Ava, trying to get her to smile, and all that seems to work is "A-a-a-a-bu-bu-bu-bu... A-a-a-a-a-bu!" I even stoop to crossing my eyes and blowing raspberries on her chubby cheeks.

Or take my dear, old mom, for example: 2007 Teacher of the Year, Masters' in Educational Leadership, and new Vanaema (grandmother) of twins. Instead of the dignified speech and composure, this woman sings old childrens' songs with lyrics that have neither rhyme or reason, trying to fit everyone in the family--including the dogs--into said song as though they would be offended should they realize Christopher didn't hear their name one of those times.

And then my sister, who's positively lost her marbles since pregnancy and the subsequent lack of sleep after birth, comes up with words to describe her children such as "grump-o-potamus". This is in between absolute memory lapses that render her exhausted.

Yup, it's true... cuteness can make you dumber...

...but it's totally worth it to see a face like this, don't you think?