Monday, July 25, 2005
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Currently Reading
The Book of Three (Pyrdain Chronicles)
By Lloyd Alexander
see relatedMy family is a strange thing, a crazy group of phenomena, a conglomeration and amalgamation and headache of individuals. My dad's brother is best friends with my mom's mother. Complicated - a bit.
To me, my mother is Mama. Always has been, always will be. Same thing with Daddy. My brother, recently turned 18 (not that recently... time flies too quickly), has been experimenting with Dad and has almost made the switch, but he's enough of a man to know that it's okay sometimes to call him Daddy.
My brother's Andrew. We watched the Jetsons sometimes as children, and I call him sometimes RoyBoy, or just Boy. My 20-year-old sister, Laura, is alternately Lola, Yoda, or Dammit, and we affectionately call each other Seester. My dad calls me Milly-Bait (my siblings being L-Bait and Drew-Bait), my mother calls me Slave-Child, and the siblings call me Jumby, Umbi, and other such things. The dog is Milly (not related to "Milly-Bait," actually) and cats are Panda and Bamboo. Mostly, because they're fairly new to the family, I call them both Cat. Well, Good Cat and Fat Cat, as long as I'm being honest.
I'm surprised I haven't written about Grumpy Grandpa yet. Daddy's father, REB Senior, a constant fixture in our home from Thanksgiving to the day after Christmas from my first year to Christmas, 1998. A cantankerous, politically-conservative man with a mouth too big for his own good, ours was the home he was most welcome in. He and Grandma called it quits sometime after their youngest left the house, and though the other three children loved him dearly, he's the sort of man to get on your last nerve. For me, he was a surrogate father at times. Brusque and scratchy, with blonde hair that flew all over his head, he always had a cookie and a smile... and an admonition not to get fat
. He took each of his first three grandchildren Christmas shopping individually for the family about a week before the big day - we'd go in with our little savings and pick out stuff for the other members of our immediate brood. He introduced us to red creme soda and rye bread, C-SPAN and my red Pontiac Fiero. He taught us that all Democrats are lazy and evil, but we've forgiven him that 
. There's much more to be said about him, but I've written it all before, in an essay that was my catharsis, my eulogy, and my way of scraping through two classes' assignments and my college admission essay.There's more to write, as there always is, but I think I'll get back to work. There are plenty more individual relations, all with quirks and stories, and when the Muse demands, I'll try to comply and treat them well. Love to all!
~ Emily
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Comments (6)
My grandparents on my mom's side were always "Ma-Maw and Paw-Paw".
I think everything else is pretty standard. I'm a mom and dad guy.
My brother married into the mormon church and movied to salt lake city.
He's still just my brother that isn't as mature but happened to get born 3 years before I did.
Sorry buddy, you are a controller, you are an accountant. The fact that ten years ago you were a DBase programmer means nothing to me and probably means you know less about current IT issues than the average joe in the office but you seem to think you are on par with me.
We're fighting to get the IT department liberated from the various other aspects of the company and made its own department as our formerly small business grows and becomes more 'traditional' and definately more professional. For now we are, somehow, under the oversight of the accounting department... its a source of headaches.
I don't usually look down on the people who have no clue about computer things, but when I show someone how to do something three times in a day I don't expect to have to show them three times the next day too. A few simple steps is not too much to ask you to learn, especially when I patiently show you multiple times. My biggest problem with the 'non-technical' people is that when things go well they question why I'm employed here (seriously, when something doesn't break for a week they think I'm unnecesary and wonder why I even show up to work to just sit at my desk playing around online all day) and when things break they want my blood.
Its hell being an IT guy, makes me wish the summer would end sooner so I could just go back to school.
i like your family and wanna hear more!!!! :)
Dear Emily,
I'm at the point in my "Xanga life" where I tend to "miss" people someitmes, so I just subscribed, although my subscription list is getting a bit topheavy these days, and there's just no physical way I can keep up with all the blogs I promise to read. (And I'm always planning the entries on my own blog, which sometimes take up to four or five hours to construct.)
I just "caught up" with you since the last time I commented. I love reading about your family. The entry about your "Dad's brother's wife's" funeral was very vivid, and brought back lots of surreal memories about the funerals I've attended throughout my life. Interesting side data about the old Subaru and how you can take the keys out of the ignition when the car is running.
All your "name-calling" is fun. I called my Mother "Mommy" almost up until the end, and I was 21 at the time. I can't remember, but I think I called my father "Dad" at the end of his life, but he was "Daddy" to me for most of the time he was around.
I liked the poem you wrote on July 19 esp the lines: "sandstorms and sandpaper; the ocean in a bucket".
Michael F. Nyiri, poet, philosopher, fool