The Tuesday after Memorial Day is difficult and warranted a really frou frou drink. A banana cream frappucino with a side solo espresso. Bananalicious!

It’s a gift, really. But he started it. That would hold up in a court of law, right?

I’m working on condensing my Fabu Weekend into one post but it’s hard. In the meantime, there are pictures!

Twenty years ago today I was surrounded by my family and a midwife after leaving my algebra class when I went into labor with Mallory. It was a noisy, frenzied day that scared the hell out of me. The look on my father’s face just about killed me because I knew he hated to see me in any kind of pain. It was repeated on my mother’s face and my sister’s faces, too.

When everyone finally left the room I leaned down to whisper to this new creature, “I really don’t want to screw this up.” She didn’t cry, wiggle, or move very much at all. Then, when it finally sank in that this was happening, I started to sing to her. It wasn’t a song that was popular at the time or something that had even been in my head and yet it was perfect.

Isn’t she lovely? Isn’t she wonderful? Isn’t she precious? Less than one minute old…

Happy Birthday, Mallory.

Did you know you can comment in the Cuppa the Day? Yes. You can. Peet’s Coffee this morning in the form of Sumatra which I kept chanting as it was brewing. Suuu-maaa-traaa. Try it. The coffee, not the chanting. Though, the chanting was good, too.

It’s been two years since I’ve laid eyes on my mother and my grandmother so parden me while I get all sentimental. It’s entirely possible that something that has the word menses is on the cusp, but sticking with sentimental works for me, too.

My nephew is graduating from high school this weekend and there will be a mini-family reunion for this huge event. Kyle is my older sister’s eldest child and is unbelievably smart and handsome and fun. He has a touch of silly in him that he doesn’t let all his “cool” friends know about, but when we get to giggling about things there is no stopping us.

[sidenote: The role of Favorite Aunt will be played by me this weekend and no understudy is necessary. My younger sister, Tracy, can't possibly compete for that role since I'm the fun one. She is the Aunt who has really expensive shoes that I'll be borrowing for all the festivities so perhaps I should be nicer to her starting now because she has these really cool Jimmy Choo's that would go perfect with my dress.]

I’ve been mentally preparing myself for this weekend for a while and I’ve also been doing some homework my mother set before me: find grandma some assisted living here in my city where she wants to move her because she knows she is simply living on that borrowed time and mom wants me close when her mother is no longer with us.

Mom has also tapped me to take pictures of the entire event and she wants everyone to take a picture with grandma, who I’ll now call Marguerite since that is her name and it occurs to me that names are so important. Marguerite is still sharp as a tack and I truly can’t wait for her and my mother to come live here. Even if she forgets from time to time who we are then the pictures from this weekend will help her remember.

I used to think that no one in my family really looked alike until I got older and noticed that when I look at a picture of my sister, Erin, upside down we have the same cheekbones and jawline. Our eyes are set the same way, too. In terms of color, we come in all shades, though Tracy and I are most similar in our skin and eye color. No doubt, we’ll tease Erin about being the love child of mom and some Mexican she must have had an affair with years ago.
About 10 years ago Marguerite was taking some classes for college credit (apparently, this need to learn thing runs in the family) and was to do a paper on the history of South Dakota (where she lives) but the professor asked her to write her own life story as a South Dakotan and it turned into a great book which my aunt had published from this very small press. All the things that I didn’t know about her were finally made clear and then, for the first time, I saw her as “Maggie”, not just the woman who gave birth to my mother. It’s important I remember that view of her this weekend and not just see an old lady. Maybe I’ll try to see myself in her and get a picture of what I’ll be like someday.

Four generations will be together for the graduation, a reunion, Memorial Day, Mallory’s 20th birthday, and an early Father’s Day this weekend. My goal is to practice with my camera while doing the massive job of taking several hundred excellent decent pictures and zooming in on the faces of my family and looking for myself in their features.

I’m in there somewhere.