Number Two

So its been a very very long time since my last post. But I'm back and I have so much to share. Since then Z and I got a dog (a drooling boxer we named Blue), got married, moved a couple of times and had a baby! Baby O is what we shall refer to her as and of course the love of our lives and Blue's too I think... All the cliches are true about having a baby of your own, they rock your world, they are so perfect..yadah yadah yadah but what I found more fascinating since having Baby O and what really connected us to everyone else whose had babies was baby poo. Yes, Baby O's bowel movements instantly became the topic of conversation the minute she was born because it was so important that babies poo'd and how it looked and now Z and I would discuss it constantly and I find myself sharing stories with strangers and other moms over coffee about Baby O's latest and greatest number two event. Its not something that I set out to do talking about number two all day. It just happens. We meet up for coffee or dinner, catch up on things and talk about babies and boom! We talk number two. It just happens. It just does. Buts its amazing how far we've gone in our relationships to be able to talk about it so casually like a Sunday stroll. I guess for some it is a Sunday stroll. I know I never really talked about it with anyone pre baby, well maybe on rare occasions with my sisters because BS loves to talk and share and now I know why. Because when you're constantly changing diapers and wiping butts it becomes less of a big deal. It humanizes the whole event. And I love it. Heres a toast to number two because there is no avoiding you.

Greetings from Hawaii

In the past few months I have been living my life like a Gypsie. I have moved from California to Texas to Hawaii. Z got a great opportunity to move to Hawaii so we thought, Why Not? And away we went. I have pictured myself lying on the beach in Hawaii but not actually living there. Especially in Hilo, Hawaii. But its Hawaii so lets not think so hard, said The Middle Sister, so here I am :)
Since I moved to Hilo- “Humble Hilo” as I like to call it, I’ve been spending my free days visiting and revisiting my local Goodwill store. I go at least twice a week. I’m sure the people who work there recognize me by now although I try to keep anonymous. So far they haven’t let on that they recognize me from a day ago. I wonder what they think of me, this girl who shops at Goodwill twice a week.
I wish I could get chummy with the employees there so that I can get the inside scoop of the next big delivery or have them hold some great stuff for me but unlike BS I have a hard time chatting up strangers and making them my BFF in 10 minutes. So here I am at Goodwill, row by row, isle by isle every week hoping to find amazing pieces of vintage clothing for BS’s vintage line, and some great home décor for my new home. What I couldn’t pack or ship to the island I left at home in California or sold it at the Long Beach Flea Market that BS and I held a week before I moved. To my surprise, most of my things sold like hot potatoes at the flea market including a painting and my “Itty Bitty Birthday Hats” that I hand made and paper mache’d for my nephew’s birthday party.
The flea market was the perfect ending to a great era in California. I received a lot of great feed back on my work (the painting I sold was on the Nate Berkus show!) and genuinely had a great bonding experience with my sisters. Being a middle sister wasn’t so bad that week....
And now in Hilo I get a clean start. Everything is slightly more expensive in Hawaii so thank goodness for GoodWill. Its a great excuse to get out of the house and kill a couple of hours. Its not shopping, its Goodwill right?
I miss my boys, I miss my days goodwill hunting with BS and the friends I left behind but I've never been happier here in Hilo.

~The Middle Sister

Oh, Hello...

So in my time here in Austin I’ve seen sunshine, I’ve not seen rain but I did see a certain man riding a bike in a thong. He just breezed by on his bike like any ordinary day, his wrinkly petite buns out for the world to see basically saying “kiss my A**”.
And a couple of months later Z swears he spotted the same man in a thong running at the park. Now that to me is too much freedom of speech. I don’t believe an ass should need to see that much sunshine. An a** should not be seen or heard in public, just admired, felt or grazed from time to time.
A man riding a bike in a thong is something that I would see when I lived in San Francisco so it was a sweet irony that I saw that here it Austin. I never expected sweet ole' Austin to have men in thongs running around too so its almost as if San Francisco is saying “hey Middle Sister, we miss you..” Yep, seeing a wrinkled a** in a thong breezing by will do that to me, another proof that my love affair with San Francisco will never die. And for the man in the thong, I personally would never have the balls to do that but apparently he does (no pun intended of course). Kudos to him. He sure made my day a little more interesting.

Eat, Sweat, Austin

So…here I am in Austin. I’ve been here for two weeks now and I think I am finally acclimating to the heat. The first week and half was brutal. Z’s air conditioning in his car decided to quit in August, the middle of summer! It wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it wasnt 106 degrees outside and if I didn’t sweat so much. In the first 10 minutes of being outside I am drenched in sweat and that is NOT an exaggeration. As dry as pie, Z would look over at my sweaty self and kindly ask if anyone else in my family sweats this much. Perhaps it’s a disorder? Uh, no. Just me. No one else sweats like I do in my family. Even my sisters look at me like I must be from another mother. I wonder too sometimes as I sit here in Austin melting away. The days are too hot to simply take a stroll. I look out the window and see people biking and running in this heat and wonder…ARE THEY CRAZY?
Apparently I must look like the crazy one. By the time we reach our destination I am soaked from my own perspiration. It looks like I just completed a marathon when actually we drove to dinner. Windows down, hot air blowing in our faces Z and I look at each other and just smile. Happy thoughts. Grateful thoughts. COLD thoughts pretending that it doesn’t matter that the air conditioning doesn’t work. We are better than that….yeah…
But I’m happy that I’m here. Minus the Texas heat Austin is an awesome city. The people are very friendly. I love that there is a strong artistic community that is active in supporting local artists and I love how genuinely eco conscious everyone is here without taking it to the next level of pretentiousness. The food is to die for especially the BBQ ribs at The Salt Lick. It has quickly become our favorite spot in the Hill Country of Austin.
For two weeks I am left to fend my own entertainment as Z heads back to work. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with myself but one thing for sure is air conditioning is a must.

AIRPORT

My Chinese Sausage was almost confiscated by airport security. I was pulled aside by a man in uniform and asked to search my bag. With a gloved hand the man shuffled through my carry on bag yet found nothing. Confused, he returned it back to the tech guy in charge of the x-ray machine. A red flag went up again yet the gloved man couldn’t figure out what it could be. Then finally after re-examining the video he found it.

“Ah Ha! Here is the problem!” and he raises my pack of Chinese Sausage in the air.

“What?! My Sausage?? Are you really going to take my Sausage?”

My heart just stopped. My trip to Austin was a long awaited one that has been booked and rebooked. I’ve packed and repacked my life into one suitcase and a carry on bag. Its not easy trying to simplify your life into one suitcase so when you finally do decide what goes with you and what stays there is a possessiveness that overcomes you when someone threatens to take it away like stealing a baby from its mother.

UH UH, DO NOT MESS WITH MY SAUSAGE. Everything in my bag was carefully chosen. The sausage is a staple in my culture. If you ever leave home for more than a couple of days, you always pack one in your bag as a just in case. A just in case there isn’t a China town near by or a just in case you are starving and there is nothing to eat (cause that’s gonna happen in Austin), or a just in case you’re just simply home sick. The sweet and saltyness of the Chinese sausage with some steamed white rice will always do the trick. Anyways back to gloved man who has my Sausage in his hand holding it hostage. Seeing the fear in my face he said he won't take my Sausage but he did see something he has to confiscate: my Bath and Body Works Hawaii scented lotion. Now that was also ridiculous because it was only half full so it should have met the minimum liquid requirement for a carry on but most importantly, how can anything with the title “Hawaii” be a threat?? Alohhhaa!

Whatever, I didn’t want to argue. I just got my sausage back. Which right now was a bigger relief. You just can't go far without your emergency sausage stash. My mom would be very concerned. So good-bye Hawaii lotion, I’m sorry you have to stay behind. I will just have to pick up another bottle in Austin. I’m sure those men are lathering it up back there in the break room right now.

Confession Sessions with O

I miss Oprah. After 25 years she ended her show with a bang. This was a bang that was watched around the world and even talked about in the nightly news. Every last show banged with surprises, tears and lots of hugs. But what I missed most was MY chance to hug it out with Oprah, to cry on her shoulder as I shared with her my journey as a Middle Sister. The struggle of being in the middle, of having an older sister who thinks MMR (men, marriage and relationships) is as simple as an oil change while also trying to maintain my “cool” status with the little sister who is convinced now that she is older that she is way more cooler than I am. I have become more of a vintage form of “cool” if I can even be considered cool at all. Well if you ask me, cool is not even cool anymore.

In my desire to be cool I am sometimes reminded of that strange lady at work who I share the elevator with from time to time. Without disappointment this lady takes me back to the 90's. Every time I see her she has on the classic ½ inch pumps and a bad perm that she hairsprays and teases into a big puff 3 inches high above her head. I am amazed every time I see her. I wonder where she gets her hair done and importantly I wonder what is going on in her head! Does she not see that no one else has that hair do anymore or that color eyeshadow? I admire her and yet sadden at the same time for her. She is definitely an example of someone who has not been able to move on and let things go. So it brings me back to LS. I don’t want to turn into the 1990s Lady from work just to impress LS on how cool I can still be. The last time LS thought I was cool was the late 90s so I gotta just let that one go and keep it there otherwise I will become the next miss 1990s and I would rather let the special lady shine in all the glory herself. She definitely deserves to.

But if I did have a chance to have dinner with Oprah what would I share? How about the time BS threatened to cut my long beautiful hair when I fell asleep (which to this day she still maintains a slightly evil snicker as she shares the story). Its almost scary that it seems to be her most favorite memory with me that she likes to share. The beauty of having sisters are the memories we cultivate and share growing up together yet I just don’t know how beautiful of a memory that story is BS.. My memories of BS growing up always had Madonna playing in the background. A little Melrose place and Beverly Hills 90210 about sums it up. Oh, and I can't forget the Keri Lotion that she generously lathers on her thick calves every morning in my cousins Toyota pick up truck as he drove us to school. She would place her legs on the dashboard and me being squished in the Middle (as usual) couldn't see anything but her thick legs until we arrived at her school and dropped her off.

I need Oprah in my life. I have two sisters, great times, great memories, yada yada.. but the only Sister that I ever felt that could really appreciate this Middle Sister was Oprah. Maybe that's a slight exaggeration but its partially true...There are a lot of things I could make into a show for Oprah. She just hasn’t heard it all yet. Good news is shes done (with the show) not dead so I still have a chance. We can call it “Confession Sessions with O".

The eve of a New year...

There is only a few more hours left of this year, 2010 and I am spending it with Charles...(Shaw that is), a delicious, heat in your own oven Chocolate Lava Cake from Trader Joes and a chick flick. It can't get any better than this. The only thing really missing is Z.

Despite being self convinced that this Middle Sister is sh** out of luck as far as love goes in the earlier part of '09 and settled to the fact that maybe I was just meant to be an Aunt to 3 nephews as my life calling, this Middle Sister found herself in a relationship despite it all. It is still not as easy as a cup of coffee as BS makes it sound but he is a great guy. I approached the earlier stages of our relationship a little rough around the edges (having never attended the warm and fuzzy school) yet Z has shown me patience and affection and has been my constant amist my chaos for the past year and a half.
But as 2011 rolls in I have mixed feelings about this new year. Z's job is out of state so now I worry about our state: Will we make it with the distance or will we become GU (Geographically Undesirable)??

I have no idea what is in store for this new year. All I know for sure is that there is always Trader Joes and Charles Shaw and this delicious Chocolate Lava Cake to calm the jitters and warm the soul. 2011, what will be, will be. I had a great 2010. Its bitter sweet to say good bye but its time to say hello. Happy New Year and a great one to all. May there be lots love, wine and good food.

Love,

Middle Sister