#175 He Believes in Me

                                                                 Weekend I’d Forget

These events are in no particular order.

1. I ate nachos.

Hubby has a running list on his phone of places to go to eat. It ranges from local places to places in New York and LA. This is partially to due to watching far too many episodes of Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives, but also due to the fact that we love trying new places.

Since we were in the area, 10th Avenue Burrito ended up being our lunch option on Sunday. I had sworn off any form of Mexican food because of the 7-layer-nacho experience, but didn't want to be a party pooper.

I can't say that I have had a better nacho in my life. They are obviously homemade as they have a greasy delicious crunch to them that you just don't get out of the bag. They were loaded with cheese and meat and all other necessary nacho delights. I could have used a little more sour cream though, maybe some salsa, too.

The burritos, however, for which the restaurant is named, weren't all that. I ordered the chicken stir fry burrito thinking it would be a milder burrito.

No. Not at all.

I could only take about two bites because the spice was so overpowering. If you like spicy, I suppose you would be thrilled.

Our waitress was pretty horrible too, but I'll save you from that description and leave it for my Trip Advisor readers.

2. I cut my hair.

I have been cutting my hair every six to eight weeks for the past year, so that isn't so exciting. But I did get a completely different style and color this time. Blonde, even just highlights, have been too much upkeep for me so I decided to make a change. But apparently I can't resist color...so I asked my hair stylist to throw in a little purple.

My thoughts?

Where has this been all my life?

3. I celebrated the start of Spring Break.

I heard tell of the deliciousness of the Cucumber Basil Smash at Seasons 52. It tasted like I was drinking the healthiest cocktail ever, Prairie Organic Cucumber Vodka will do that, I suppose. I know what you're thinking--is that good thing or a bad thing? In this case it was definitely a good thing! If you are a cucumber fan, as I am, and can enjoy a hint of basil, this is a drink for you!

4. I went to see Cats with my SIL, Sam, and Jonathan.

If I hadn't been familiar with the music, I might have been a little confused. Afterwards I did a little reading and realized that because T.S.Eliot's book, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, is the inspiration and text of most of the show, Andrew Lloyd Webber was given permission by the Eliot Estate only to use the original poems as the text, which from the start of the show in 1981 caused confusion among cast members over the plot.

Regardless, the performance was well-done for a local theater group. The costumes and scenery looked comparable to any pictures I have seen of the show on Broadway.

5. I spoke to a woman with a 56-year-old brother with Down syndrome. She just so happened to be sitting behind us for the entire show.

Jonathan loves shows. He is, let's say, overly enthusiastic about them. He isn't disruptive, but he does like to bounce with excitement, gasp enthusiastically, and shake his dolls back and forth to the music. We've never had a problem in the theater (we have in church, but that is a different story for a different time), but I'm always overly cautious and as considerate as I can be of those around us. Translation: I spend half the night trying to make Jonathan 'like everyone else'.

Boo to that.

When the play finished, the woman behind us said, "Is he your brother?" She then told me of her brother, how he is nonverbal but would have been enjoying the show just as Jonathan did. We both felt it had been meant to be that she was behind us. I told her that I was one of Jonathan's guardians and she excitedly told me that she was for her brother also.

She gave me a positive outlook on what aging will be like for Jonathan.

Like everything else with those with Down syndrome, it looks like it will be awesome.

6. I took an obnoxious number of pictures with this cutie.

Speaking of obnoxious, I made the mistake of quoting the seahorse from Finding Nemo who says, "I'm obnoxious" when introducing himself to Nemo. To which Jonathan proceeded to say, "I'm obnoxious" for the entire ride home from the show. However, it slowly transformed from "I'm obnoxious" to "I'm noxious" to "I'm nauseous".

Thankfully, it was just an interpretation issue and not literal.

7. I was spoiled with a new violin by Hubby.

You might recall two years ago when I went with my friend, Amy, to help her pick out a violin. Ever since I came home from that experience, apparently, Hubby had been planning on having me return to the same violin shop.

When I decided I wanted to go to college for violin, I began the dreaded task of auditioning for schools. When auditioning for my top pick, in front of the associate concertmaster of the Philadelphia orchestra no less, I was advised to major in music education (which later caused me to switch to a music minor) and to get a new violin.

The best argument to get your parents to shell out cash on a new violin is to say the associate concertmaster of the Philadelphia Orchestra told you to.

That was more years ago than I want to admit. I finished school. Time passed. I stopped playing. I played here and there. I stopped playing. I taught beginner violin lessons. I played for church. I stopped playing.

Until I decided enough was enough and started taking private lessons again.

This naturally spurned the desire for a new violin, but it also brought up realization of mistakes and improvements I needed to make in my playing.

It has been a little under a year and I am still going strong with taking lessons. I have learned so much more in this short amount of time than throughout all my high school or college years combined. Even though I would have said I'm not worth investing in a new violin, I have a husband who still wanted to do so.

My new violin is beautiful, it has character, history, and will only continue to help the progress I have begun. It is also a constant reminder of how much my Hubby not only loves me, but believes in me.

#162 He Gives Me Girl Time

Weekend I’d Forget

The worst thing about my life growing up was that I was an only girl.

Goodness, if life now could be as simple as it was then.

It turns out, I was made to be an only girl.  Even today I can only handle being around females for so long.  Boys are far less fussy, they tell it like it is, and they talk a lot less.  Plus, I never had to share my dress up clothes or Barbies with anyone but my friends.

Though I never had the sister I wanted as a child, as an adult I have been blessed with three sister-in-laws who I truly consider now as my sisters.

I wrote a little about them last year in this sibling overview.

Because of my recipe challenge on my other blog, this weekend I decided to host a girl's dinner just like Pioneer Woman did in one of the chapters of The Pioneer Woman Cooks.  The idea to have the girls over was sparked more on the fact that the menu items were things that Hubby would have wrinkled his nose at.

I knew my sisters would better enjoy the varied menu of burgundy mushrooms, rosemary potatoes, olive cheese bread, wedge salad, roasted beef tenderloin, and crème brûlée .*

This was the first time my three sisters and I spent a meal together without any of the men around.  

I liked it.

We spent the night laughing, sharing stories, and eating delicious food.  They were overly sweet about the quality of my food despite the fact that the meat was rare (PW said it was okay though!) and the crème brûlée didn't set properly (the flavor was still incredible!).  

*Naturally, I'll be covering this in more detail over at The Orange Strainer.

I can't believe I waited so long to have a girl's night with my sisters.  I'm a creature of tradition, so I can't say for certain, but I feel like this is something I want to make happen on a yearly basis--at the very least.

#97 He Has a Sister

This is my first time growing old.

What?  It's yours too?

When I was younger, I always thought that the older people had it all figured out.  Now that I am older I realize that no one does.  The younger ones just happen to be the more content because they are usually oblivious to the fact that none of us truly know what is going on.  After all, every person is in a first time experience of the stage of life they are currently in.  Some hide their confusion better than others, some are self deceived, some just follow modeled expectations, but we're all in this for a first and only experience.

In the movie, "Confessions of a Shopaholic" (personal confession, this is one of my favorites), Rebecca Bloomwood's father offers to sell the RV he purchased with his life savings to help pay off her debt.  She says to him, "I will kill you if you sell it.  It completely defines you.  Completely."

He responds, "Nothing defines me, except you and your mother."

Our family does define us.  It makes us who we are.  Although it might not always be good, I'd much rather be defined by people than by objects.

A family filled with children takes this idea to a whole new level.  Growing up (and still today) I was one of four children.  Wait, let me rephrase that, I was one girl with three brothers.  One sister to three brothers.  Three boys and a girl.

Yes, whatever way you say it cannot make it sound any better.

One girl against three boys...that was my life.

When my third brother was born my world collapsed.  I had convinced myself that it would be a girl.  Finding out the baby was a boy devastated me.  Children are resilient, and I was no extraordinary specimen of a child.  I soon got over it and somehow became satisfied with how life was playing out with my three boys.

My oldest brother, Justin, helped to define me from the start.  He was born two years before me, so growing up I walked in his shadow.

Note: I did not say lived in his shadow.  That would not have been cool.

Justin and I did everything together, played outside together, shared the same friends, and had the same house rules to adhere to; a two year difference did not give any cause to adjust house rules.  This continued well into our teen years.  When he learned to drive, I was learning to drive by watching.  When he got his license, I was the first he got lost with.  As we got older, and the fun of playing outside wore off, we spent a lot of time watching movies together.  One night during our high school years, I was sick and throwing up every half hour or so.  Justin sat up with me all night, and, between barfs, watched the entire first season of 24 with me.

Justin was my first friend ever.  During those years he made a deposit into my life that makes up a percentage of who I am today.

The years I was dating and first married to my husband drifted into a deposit of time and influence with my younger brother, Joel.  Oddly, Joel, who is five years younger than me, felt the need to constantly chaperone his 17-year-old sister and her boyfriend.  He clearly felt a little threatened.  Yet, this deposited in my life a clear admittance of his love for me which only grew into a relationship I never expected I would have with a brother, especially a bratty younger one.  Throughout the end of my high school years and until I married my husband, Joel, my youngest brother Jonathan, and I all slept in the same room.  We all had our own bedrooms and if we had been forced to share a bedroom, we probably would have wailed constantly about how unfair and cruel our parents were.  Yet, this situation was unique and special because we created it, and it was our very own.  During the week we would sleep on the bunk beds in my room and Jonathan would sleep on the floor.  Eventually we ended up sleeping only in the living room.

I'm sure this situation sounds out of whack.  In fact, you might question why my parents allowed such nonsense.  Children making their beds in the living room when they have their own beds to sleep in?  Preposterous, right?

For whatever reason my parents allowed it, when I look back on those bedtimes spent with my brothers, I wouldn't trade them for a million peaceful nights sleep.  We would slowly drift off to the sounds of "I Love Lucy", sometimes watch a late night movie together, and many times Joel and I would have late night conversations about life from our separate couches that we had fashioned into the perfect beds.    

No matter what happens in life, I'll always have that deposit of time and relationship made with my brother Joel.

That youngest brother, Jonathan, the one who should have been a girl, has made the largest deposit in my life.  Being born with Down syndrome did not hinder him from becoming a person who can inspire and influence those around him.  He has given me my focus in life, many of the good moral qualities I possess, as well as many of the goofy carefree ones.

I may not have been given the sister I had hoped for when I was growing up, but God still had a plan to bless me with sisters.  Three, in fact.  My first sister came through my marriage.  I didn't realize this at first, but through the years she has been everything a sister should be.  She has made fun of me, she has laughed with me, and most importantly, she has always had my back.  The biggest deposit she has ever made in my life is to love me unconditionally and for that I can never pay her back.

My second sister came to me when my brother Justin got married.  An only child herself, I never realized how important Justin's three siblings might be to her.  We are her only siblings.  She put up with a lot of sibling nonsense to get accepted into our family, but had I realized what having a sibling meant to her, I might have made an effort to make it easier on her.  She has deposited perspective into my life.  Until she came along I lived in the little world of my family and my family only.  Our way of life, our way of doing things, our way of seeing things.  I have learned to see and understand the world through other people's viewpoints because of her.

My third sister will be born on August 17th this year.  I know she will make deposits into my life that will continue to define me.  I can only hope to be the big sister to her that many, though not through marriage, have been to me.

I refuse to take complete credit for the person I am.  I am composed of the countless number of people and situations that have crossed my path during my lifetime.  My only goal is to weed out the negative influences that many have to offer and to allow myself to be open to the positive influence of those who deposit thoughts and motives that I value and want to shine through in my life.