Best of My Family

I called my mom today, to see what the fam was doing this weekend. I haven't seen her or Seth or Kenneth or the dogs in way too long, plus I have convention swag to give them. She tells me she is going to Stillwater on Sunday to bring Seth food, so I ask if I can come along and join them. I ask her what time - she says she'll have to get back to me after she texts my brother.

Ten minutes later, my phone rings again. She tells me that she wrote Seth (he doesn't often answer phone calls, at least from us) to ask him what food he wanted to bring and that I would drive over and what time should we get there? He writes back "yay bring me my sister." No time, no food (and he LIKES food, let me tell ya), but I made the text. I feel loved.

My mom wanted to tell me that because she thought it was funny as I do. After she said it, I said back "WHAT WHAT!" to let her know that I was happy and excited to be so loved. I think she thought I just said it once with a question mark, because she just repeated herself. When I said it again, she told me she didn't understand. I tried to explain it, saying that "WHAT WHAT!" is kind of like saying "YAY!" Really, it's like saying "HOLLA!" but I knew she wouldn't get that. The explanation didn't work, so I just gave up.

Also, he sent another text telling us to get there "10ish," which is notable because I think he likes sleep as much as he likes food, and there's a game the night before, which means alcohol (and he might like that better than sleep and food combined, as we all should). Mom texted back to say that it was awful early for him, but she was glad that we'd have more time. He wrote back to say that's why he chose it.

WHAT WHAT!

Best of Reuniting

Last weekend, I spent 6 hours in the car to get to Granbury, Texas, for a family reunion. It's a massive group of people on my Dad's side - my grandmother's first cousins and their progeny. I'm on the third-cousin (fourth generation) level, and we have five generations that attend. Here's my level:



When I was little, Garrett and Grant would come to Grand Lake for one week every summer. It was a constant. Sometimes their other cousins or my other cousins would be there, but the three of us always showed up. The first day, we weren't quite sure of each other, but by the last of the week we were inseparable. We played a lot of Monopoly until the middle of the night, slept in our swimsuits, and once Garrett drove my Uncle Kenny's Jet Ski (the stand up kind) into the shore of our cove. I basically worshiped Garrett, even though he is one month to-the-day YOUNGER than me. He is still cooler.

Everyone is so grown up now. I think the fact that I just wrote that makes me old, but I still feel behind. My cousin Corey, who is just a year or two older than me, is married and 8 months pregnant with her SECOND child. Garrett is married and his wife is very pregnant with their first child. That's what I learned this weekend. That I should have a ring on my finger and be knocked up. I'll get back to you on the progress of that. I sure WANT a baby, but I know I don't need one right now. I'm barely grown up enough to take care of me. Give me a few years to get it together, I guess.

The other thing about a weekend reunion is that I didn't have very much time to talk to the people I really wanted to catch up with, and it still felt like the first day syndrome with my cousins I hadn't seen in 8 years. If we would have had a few more days, you would have seen people in their twenties spend five hours playing a very intense and competitive real estate game. Instead, I still felt slightly insecure like I am the gray sheep of the family - not pretty enough, not successful enough, not married enough? One of my second cousins once removed (that's right, I understand that shit) told me I was pretty now. Now?

I think reunions are good for second-guessing life choices, but at least this is preparing me for my 10-year high school reunion next May. Maybe I'll Romy and Michele it - I use post-it notes enough to make it work.

AND there is talk to reunite the parts of the family that consistently came to the originals at Grand Lake, and to spend a little bit more time, and I think that would be loads more fun. Without all the distractions (Can you refer to some members of your family like that? I can.) we'd get to talk, laugh, play games, drink, swim - everything important about the family and summer combination. Also, when I'm a grandmother, and I organize this stuff, I'm going to tell my kids and grandkids that they don't get to bring friends. If I would have brought friends during my summer reunions growing up, I would have never bonded with Garrett and Grant*.

To the fun stuff:
1) We got in one round of spades - Oklahoma (Marla and me) vs. Texas (Lori and Garrett). I won't tell you who won, but let's just say BOOMER SOONER! Which is good, because I hate losing.

2) I got to hang out with Audrey Grace SO MUCH! We decided we are Best Friend Cousins (BFCs) for life.


We went shopping together (where I bought a dress she said LOOKED SO GOOD on me), we swam together (where she broke out into Journey's "Don't Stop Believin" - pretty impressive for an almost 11 year old), and we screamed on the Sea Doo together. When I was getting tips from her on working out (she's a gymnast and works out 17 hours a week), and I told her I wanted to lose some more weight, and she said, "YOU'RE NOT FAT!" See, you love her, too.

*The fact that I have a Grant and Garrett in my family, and that I'm dating a different Grant who has a brother Garet isn't confusing AT ALL. When I was at the reunion, and I was telling someone that Grant (my boyfriend) couldn't make it because he had to work, someone overheard and told me that Grant was on his way. Too much explaining.

Best of a Happier Ending

This is Gallagher:



Gallagher has the strongest personality for such a short little dog. He does not realize he is small, so he'll jump right on your belly when you are resting on the couch. He acts tough, but he takes care of everyone. When our calf, Noel, was born on Christmas day, Kenneth had to take care of her and bottle feed her milk. Gallagher stood by and would lick her face clean when she was finished. He loved my lab Daisy, and you may remember that he took her bed after she passed away. After that, though, he started chewing up both dog beds, even after mom safety-pinned the covers down, which earned him a trip to the vet. It also pissed off our boxer, Chester, so he took the big bed back since Gallagher ruined his. But... that's okay. Gallagher just snuggles up to him in the middle of the night on the same bed. He's so big and heavy and stubborn; when he decides to do something, you can't really convince him otherwise. When he stayed with us earlier this year, Whitters was having a rough night, and while she cried in her room, he put his paws on her back and just comforted her for an hour.

On Sunday night, after my mom returned to Kingfisher from hanging out for the weekend with us in Tulsa, he was hit by a car in front of our house. He made it up to the house, and Mom got him inside and realized something was really wrong. She stayed up with him all night, petting him and giving him water, while he was in shock, and they both waited until she could take him to the vet early in the morning. He has a broken hip, and might need surgery, but he is going to make it. As the vet put it, he's a "tough pup." That he is. He's a lover and a fighter. Thank goodness he is a stubborn little motherfucker, and I know he will fight to survive this and live on to take care of my family. Your thoughts and prayers would sure help, though.

Best of Dinners

On Sunday afternoon, I was feeling down. It could have been (probably was) hormonal, because I was in a depressing mood even after the Brunch Committee had finally found a worthy, good-service, not-too-expensive brunch in Tulsa at Lava Noshery on Brookside. That's enough to be happy about, but I wasn't feeling it. In going to the restaurant, which really was fabulous (Grant had the biggest french toast I've ever seen with bourbon peaches), we even braved the intimidating white buildings to go eat there. And now that I figured out that the modern places wouldn't turn us away (think the first shopping scene in Pretty Woman), I'm going to be unstoppable on that side of the street. But enough about that. Because I was still in a bad mood.

I turned down a trip to the bookstore with Whitters, which really had her worried, and for good reason. I never turn down a trip to the bookstore. I got some alone time, though, that I needed, and even though I was not looking forward to the act of getting there, I climbed in my car and drove to Vinita for a Father's Day dinner.

And I'm so glad I did.

Because my air conditioner is broken (AGAIN), I drove the entire way with the top down, just absorbing the sunshine. And maybe sweating a little bit. I sang along to my radio, narrowly avoided a rainstorm, and got there a little windswept and a little bit more content than when I left my house. Dad got me a beer, liked his presents, and Mary Ma came over bearing a TON of food.

They both kept saying, "I thought you were bringing Grant," and while the amount of food she brought over was a lot for just the three of us, it also would have been a lot for the four of us. We dug in and did our best, eating steak (medium rare - YUM), pork chops, a bean salad, green beans, and a really tasty squash casserole.

Dad asked for the squash casserole as his only request for "his" meal, and Mary Ma said she'd make cheese grits, and he could grill zucchini outside. I think that gave him pause, and then he countered saying, "But that's not squash casserole." Mary Ma responded with saying that grits and a squash casserole would be two heavy dishes, so... I'm guessing Dad won.

At the end of dinner, with no dessert necessary, the three of us sat in Dad's living room. My great-grandparents built the house, and he is renovating it after it was in the hands of people outside our family for some years. I have a few scattered memories of the place, and one of the most vibrant is eating lunch with my Grampsie, because the after-lunch activities were a little frustrating to this little girl. He wanted to take a nap. I wanted to play. In the dining room, he'd put his feet up on his dining room chair while lying on the floor and cover his face with his handkerchief. And then go to sleep, or at least try to, with me right next to him. I'm not patient as an adult, and I sure wasn't then, so I'd keep asking if we could wrestle or read yet. I'm sure it was a satisfying siesta.

But after the big dinner we had Sunday, I can see the appeal. Instead of lying down in the dining room, I chose the couch, and Dad made me coffee for my drive back. We all talked and watched the storm out his big windows. I love getting to spend that kind of time with my family.

Dad went into the kitchen, and my Mary Ma asked me if I had a tattoo. I said yes, and she asked me where, and I told her it was on my hip. She said that wasn't so bad, and she told me that her grandmother used to think the same things about ear piercings and ankle bracelets that she does about tattoos. I explained that the three stars had meaning to me and represented Orion's belt, one of the first constellations my Dad taught me about in the car rides we took together across the state. That constellation has always been a constant in my not-always-stable life and comforts me whenever I see it. Orion is a hunter, and his belt is a symbol of strength, and I'm glad I have it permanently represented on my body. Not to mention, Seth has three stars tattooed on his back, so it really reminds me of family. My family.

I told all this to Mary Ma, and told her my mother's reaction to the same explanation. When I talked to Mom about it, Grant and I were talking to her in the living room in Kingfisher. She said she might as well go get the same tattoo since it represented family. I told her she should, and she said, "COURTNEY." as only a mother can. I'm guessing that meant she was joking. Grant told her that nothing would make Seth regret his tattoo more than finding out his mother had the same one. Probably true. When I related this story to my Mary Ma, she said that the only way SHE'D ever get a tattoo was if she went with me. Isn't that the best compliment?

Best of Dads

This is mine. He's the best. I call him Dird, which he doesn't like so much, so it stuck. At my 26th birthday party, also known as Court-a-palooza, he came and after much encouragement from Whitters and other friends, built a bonfire in my backyard. I was more worried about it than he was, which kind of describes our relationship. He taught me to cook tortilla soup and gooseberry pie, taught me to fish (though I hate it), taught me to tend bar, and is still trying to teach me how to drive the boat and effectively manage money.

I used to spend my summers with him in Tulsa, and I love being back near the places we frequented. He'd take me to Steve's Sundry in Tulsa, where I would beg for more and more books, and we'd share a float. He finally began to make me put back books that weren't at least 300 pages (so they'd last more than a day and maybe help his pocketbook). He'd always let me buy a Sweet Valley High or Babysitter's Club super edition book, because they stayed partially read for a longer period of time.

We also went to Woodward Park where I would climb in the waterfalls and splash him. I'm sure he loved it, because one time I wanted to go to the pool, and he said he'd take me, but then he just took me to one of those big fountains in front of a huge office building and got in it. I sat in the car and fumed (I'm not much of a rule-breaker with those types of things), but then he looked like he was having so much fun, and I was so hot, so I got in. It was awesome for all of five minutes before the security guard kicked us out.

We'd go to Utica Square, to have dinner at Olive Garden (my-then VERY FAVORITE RESTAURANT), where I'd have minestrone soup and manicotti every single time. I'm not proud of my past love for chain restaurants and menu-adherence, but my taste buds and palette hadn't evolved yet, OKAY?

Anyway, my dad has always encouraged me and believed in me, from letting me read in the car when he'd drive 6 hours across the state to pick me up (and I read for the entire 6 hours back) to changing his registration to be a Democrat when I worked on my first presidential campaign (even though I had to, in return, shoot a gun). He's funny as all hell, with a very dry sense of humor, and he makes me giggle in church and get in trouble from Mary Ma. He's lucky to have found a very wonderful companion, V.V., who is also hilarious, and it makes for fun family meals. He's currently remodeling his house, and loves to hear suggestions from the entire fam-damn-ily about exactly what and how he should do next. I'm sure he'd love to hear your advice, too.

During the weekends I spent with him at the lake in college and after, he loved to try to wake me up for Meet The Press around this time every Sunday. I love MTP, and I love my Dad, but in the OKC area it comes on at 10AM, which is more doable. I'm not a very easy person to get out of bed, so I slept in more than I should have. I wish I were watching Tim Russert grill politicians with him right at this moment.

I wrote this post a few days early, and honestly wrote the above paragraph about two hours before I found out Tim Russert had died suddenly and unexpectedly of a heart attack. I am extremely saddened by the news, and I know my dad is heartbroken, because our country lost an objective and REAL political analyst who challenged all politicians (no matter the party), and my family's living rooms lost our Sunday morning friend.

Best of Weekends

Why couldn't mine have just one more day?

I'm at work, looking at the rain fall on downtown Tulsa, and right now all I ever wanted was to be in my own bed, under the covers, reading a book, and drinking hot mint tea. I feel like I should have called in sick. I can't lie, but I'm in desperate need of a personal day, and I have cramps. Those are two reasons enough to escape the working world for a day.

One of the reasons I wanted my weekend to continue today is that I had such a good one! Friday night, Grant and I went on a date at Local Table in Brookside. The concept is cool - only serve what is in season and use local ingredients, but it kind of sucked, especially for the amount of the bill. The company was great, though, as per usual. It was Grant's idea to make sure we go on a real date every week, even though we live together, and I must say it has been a fabulous idea.

We got up early on Saturday morning to go to the Farmer's Market in Tulsa on Cherry Street, and it was worth not sleeping in. We found tons of fresh produce, and it's now a date for every Saturday morning. We had green beans with lemon and shallots for lunch, and felt like we had the entire day to conquer. I'm glad I found a way to make the weekend last just a little bit longer.

On Sunday, the brunch committee had planned an outing, but after a surprise 10 am phone call from AUDREY, those plans got changed. The Stillwater Ruarks showed up at our house about 10 minutes later, and Grant finally got to meet them. Audrey and Andrew met Henry, she jumped on the trampoline, Marla (with the help of Why Bother) discovered the true lyrics to Smack That, and we went to eat lunch at the riverwalk. And Audrey, Whitters and I were brave enough to run through the fountain. And then hug everyone else. After they left to go to Andrew's baseball game in Glenpool, I fell asleep with Henry in the hammock reading David Sedaris. Perfect.

And then raindrops hit me, so I headed inside.

Best of Dogs

As I wrote earlier, I had a sudden urge to be home in Kingfisher this week with my family and dogs. I'm glad I went and was able to say goodbye, although I didn't know it was goodbye at the time.

My dog from high school, a beautiful yellow lab named Daisy, was put down yesterday. My mom called me last night, and I did not handle it well. I snapped at Grant and his friend, pulled away, shut down, and built up some nice big walls. I don't know why I act this way. When I am hurting the most, and needing other people to comfort me, I push them away as hard as I can. Sometimes I'm not a very good person. Sometimes I'm not good at life.

Daisy was always good at life, and really was a "Best of Dogs." I got her the summer before I was a junior, when I was 16, which was a very tumultuous time for me. She was an adorable puppy, who really took to the farm, and was a great guard dog if you are afraid of being licked to death.

To get her to come inside, I used to sing out the side door at the top of my lungs:

"DAISY, DAISY, GIVE ME YOUR ANSWER DUE
I'M HALF CRAZY ALL FOR THE LOVE OF YOU
IT WON'T BE A STYLISH MARRIAGE,
I CAN'T AFFORD A CARRIAGE,
BUT YOU'LL LOOK SWEET UPON A SEAT
OF A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO."

And she would come running. When I left for college, I could not take a full-grown lab with me to live in the dorms or subsequent apartments, but she would not have left the farm for anyplace in the world. She became Kenneth's best friend, who would patiently wait for him at the door, and not understand if he went to do anything with the cattle without her. If she were allowed, she slept next to his side of the bed any chance she got. And she licked everyone.

Other dogs showed up, Chester, Gracie, Gallagher, and Daisy mothered them all (most of all, Gallagher). Because she had a bad hip, Mom got her a really nice dog bed that the other dogs KNEW they were not for them. Still, though, Mom said even though Daisy was the only one on the bed at night, in the morning when everyone got up Gallagher would be snuggled up against her. She mothered everyone around her: the cows, the dogs, and my family.

Before I got home, Mom told me she was worried about Daisy because she would not come inside, which never happened, especially if Kenneth was in the house. I pulled up and saw her almost in our neighbor's yard, so I yelled for her, and she just kept circling. Mom and I went to get her, and I led her into the house to her bed, where I sat with her, and got to tell her I loved her and play with her ears, my absolute favorite part of Daisy. She licked me the entire time.

The next morning, when I left, Kenneth and I were talking about her, about the weird circling, and we thought she just couldn't go to the bathroom. She was headed to the vet that day, where they found out why she could not go to the bathroom; her whole body was riddled with tumors. Surgery would not help. My mom and Kenneth made the difficult decision to relieve her pain and put her to sleep, and had to call me and tell me last night.

I will miss her, and as I write this, Henry (who looks almost exactly like the little Daisy the sixteen year-old me held and adored) is jumping around the living room. I wish that they could have met. She would have taken care of him, and taught him about being the best dog. Somehow she already taught him about the licking, though.

Best of Weather

Last night, I had a sudden desire to be home with my family and dogs, so instead of staying the night in Norman, I drove to Kingfisher to stay with Mom, Kenneth, Daisy, Chester & Gallagher. We also have a calf named Noel.

I got home late after a late-night meeting, but everyone had waited up and Mom and I had a drink and then I told her stories and made her laugh really hard. I wish I could share them with you here, but most of them are not blog-appropriate. (I can't tell you how grateful I am to have a mom who I can tell inappropriate but hilarious stories, and who laughs as hard about them as I do.) Anyway.

We had plans for the next day involving the Festival of the Arts. I also have a mom who thinks art is important enough that she would take Seth and me out of school for a day to go to this. I love it, and all the memories I have associated with it, so I like to share it with special people. Hence, Grant and Whitters were going to drive down to enjoy the art and the food, too.

Mom woke me up this morning to tell me that we might have to literally raincheck because of the weather.

First, I was pissed. I was ready for a spring-time activity with my friends and family, and Grant had never been. Then I was disappointed.

As I was cycling through these emotions, I talked to a friend about it online. When he said that he hadn't heard anything about it, I went all caps on him and said "YOU'VE NEVER HEARD ABOUT THE ARTS FEST? IT IS THE COOLEST!" I misunderstood. He had heard about it, he just hadn't heard anything about it lately. (If you clicked on the link above and noticed the dates, you also might get what he was hinting.)

He hadn't heard about it, because IT STARTS NEXT WEEK.

I'm not going to hear the end of this anytime soon.