you guys.... are the best. here's why.

Because in one day I have already collected over $100 for Kate Granju and her family.
Because I spent today worrying I made a faux-pau in putting up my Paypal, that
people would be concerned I'd steal the money.
Because instead of people worrying that, they gave money, in a time when money
is short for everyone.
Because when Kate receives every penny of this money, it will be a way for us to say
that you are not forgotten, that your suffering matters to us.

I'll keep collecting until the end of week and let you all know the total.

let's help this woman and her newborn baby

Remember my post on the very recent death of young Henry Granju, Kate Granju's son- our fellow blogger and writer... Henry died at age 18. Kate has three other children and this week has had her baby girl, Henry's sister.
What I'd like to do is gather $100 to give to her for the new baby. Sometime back, not too long, she had posted a list of To Do's to get ready for the baby girl's arrival, and the list included things she needs to buy. I know from comments on her blog they don't have much money. I have a Paypal account, and if everyone can donate whatever amount they can here, I'm sure we can gather $100. My email is beezus 74 @ hotmail.com ( without the spaces, obviously ) I thought I'd accept money until next weekend, and then send it to Kate however she sees best, through Paypal or a check or money order. I haven't asked her- I don't know her. If we get together more than $100 in that time, great.

Thank you. xo

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Trailer

This comes out days from Ever's due date. YIKES We go religiously, the whole family, to the opening weekend, since Lola was tiny. I hope Ever stays in long enough because Harry Potter movies rock my world.

fuck that because it's a true thing i hate

The lack-ness ( when lack just isn't enough to express ... _) of the entirety of my little blue pills is causing me to cry daily. My oldest son doesn't like this, understandably, and, because he is sixteen and a boy in our culture, cannot find a way to express how distressed and uncomfortable this makes him, so instead he gets pissy, irritable, rude. Being a teenager who neither drinks nor smokes dope just sucks. High school is a place where 90% of the population drinks every once in a while. We drug test, alcohol test, so he's in a no fuck up zone. He's dealing with other things to, other difficult and painful emotions. Tonight he blew up at me and left the house against my explicit advice to do no such thing. And ended up spending the night with his biological dad. It is the mother in me that instead of feeling angry or hurt at his bad behavior, I'm wracked with guilt and worry over him. I know he's struggling and I hate that I can't be 100% for him right now. It makes me feel horrible.
And I'm getting worse every day, face it folks. I cry more and harder. Please don't give me advice: My mother does that daily. I am exercising. I AM taking fish oil. I am doing every goddamn thing I can but nothing can change the fact that I have severe anxiety disorder and won't put a hole in my Ever's heart so that I can get through this pregnancy with a smile on my face. At this point I'd be happy not to depress my entire family by the time it's done. And my marriage has been awesome, my husband so incredibly sweet the last five months, working 6 days a week and 10 to 12 hour days because it's his busy season, and then coming home and cooking dinner and kissing my cheeks and telling me how beautiful I am and putting the kiddos to bed and trying to get in my pants. Nothing cheers up a girl like her husband trying to get in her bloomers, especially when they are size Large and she's not feeling so hot these days. But he's having a hard week and the last two days been distant, not a crime but a reality in long marriage, the need for space, but something I can barely handle when I'm so .... fragile barf Fuck that because it's a true thing I hate. And also it's possible he might be struggling with bipolar. Too soon to tell. It scares the living daylights out of me because for both of us to be bonkers at the same time.... I am making a therapy appointment for Mr Curry and I, hopefully for next week, and Dakota and I will be seeing his therapist next week too. Modern family, modern weapons, oldest problems in the hills.

The problem seems to be cellular. I was juiced young. Electrified, see. And so when the fever rises and the crazies begin, all my cells juice and release the electricity of past wounds horrors and fears. And the anxiety is like this great big pulley, this horrible machine with ropes and chains and great giant wheels that spin and drag the entire thing- me, see- down the hills of crazy and lonely and scared right until I'm about five years old and standing at my Daddy's brown loafers, sick with misery.

Ah.

I'd have a stiff drink, but.

Yes, all those buts.

So- onward Christian soldier. **I've always wondered where that expression came from.

BBQ

Da Birthday Boy Self



Robert (brother of my bestie since 5 years old, so I was there when he was born), Nick (Dakota's friend), Evan (his bestie), Dakota holding cousin Reef, cousin Andrew and Ian holding cousin Jacob


Before


After


Mr. Curry, cousin Andrew, D, I, Uncle Carl and Grandpa Curry


They made Dakota spin art :)


Playing washoos. What? At least we got the dog poo picked up.



18 weeks


Jacob the redheaded cutie. Maybe our Ever will have red hair?


We love you Uncle!


The Poker Players- Gma Curry, Andrew, Ian, Gpa Curry, Mr. Curry and his sister Kristi


Bodie contemplates his next hand


Roughhousing at the end of the day

Sweet Love

through the God ring

do not cross blood.
the crushed and blistered kind,
the leaves of bitter.

i will not be soft or feathered
i am the purpling beak which gouges
your open palms- i am not free.

dark things fly with dark things
the cloud of sky that is flock
this the home of my heart-

that which does not deny this wild ugliness
dress it in ribbons and lipstick
pink panties over the stink puss.

longer look with sentimental eye
longer my fangs, claw, the ripping
of scar and lancing boils:

who are you on this battlefield?
the doctor palm to finger
inside the rib of man

or the far off call of transmission:
a simple reporter, a secondary recounting.
i flew in the flame of the torch

tasted the tip of the arrow
into the ever open eye:
flew through the God ring

to shudder in cast and cloth
underneath that merciless gaze.
do not call me

dark make small of what you fear.
the world is alight in my eyes.

People In Your Neighborhood: Photographer George Downing

Visit George's work here
First found here

family pictures

Lola was a flower in her end of year school play. A very, very energetic flower.


Ian Dakota and Lola at TGI Fridays on Dakota's 16th birthday. His party/BBQ is this Saturday
I feel guilty because the primary thing on my mind is not the family and friends and my son's ascent into manhood, but the work and chores and shopping and organization Mr. Curry and I have to do in preparation. He is working 12 hour day ( ! ) and I am working full time to come home exhausted and lately, feeling ill.


Mr. Curry is working his way through the Harry Potter series with Lola. Aren't his Irish boxers cute? His wife bought him those. He is from a large ( his Dad is one of 12 ) Irish Catholic family.
Our family is non religious but absolutely devoted to Harry Potter, down to each and every child.


Lola took this picture of me. My bra strap is so lovely, don't you think?


Ian's 8th grade graduation- with honors and awards for this brightest boy. He works so incredibly hard and we are so incredibly proud.


Ever, in utero, 16 weeks. I'm 17 now :)


Wolfgang is very scared of balloons. He has been keeping a close eye on this suspicious floater, protecting the family in case it tries to bob near us.

Dakota Wolf, 16

Everything Good About Dakota I Can Think Of Right Now

This beautiful boy was born 16 years ago, and so was I. Born into the world together. It is an amazing truth of human life that the simple existence of a life can heal another. In this photo he stands with my Uncle Robert, last month on the Eastern waters. He is incredibly emotionally intelligent, and adults have always, and still do, express their surprise and enjoyment in the depth and scope of conversing with him. I've had many people tell me he has a self-possession and confidence unusual for a teenager- and he always has been that way; I've always heard those words, since he was two. I can't help but assume that some of this is the constant ever steady presence- given in words and action- of unconditional love. Dakota's father said to me once after a disagreement over our son, One thing I know...Dakota knows he is loved in a way I never had. He has always known that with you. I think this is my greatest gift to my children. It matters to me who they are- I want them to be smart, kind, strong, etc- but my love does not rest on those qualities, or any qualities. For better or for worse, even if they were to somehow someway end up terrible, selfish and cruel people, I would love them, and find a way to their hearts. I have a determination to lift my children's hearts that comes through in every choice I make and the words I use. I feel this from the day they are nursing at my breast and looking into my eyes, sleeping next to me, keeping time with my heartbeat. I do everything I can- no spanking, little screaming, baby carrying, nursing, co-sleeping, kisses, hugs, weekly family nights ( Friday ) constant talking, listening, to feed that connection: nurtured throughout childhood, it is the most powerful tool in the years of raising a teen.

Dakota has a physical and spiritual grace that reminds me daily of the simple words young man.
He is, to my mother eyes, the epitome of a young man: strong, generous, stubborn minded, a bit impulsive, intelligent, curious, funny, quick to grin, quick to anger, forgiving, adventurous, and beautiful. It is the great trick of love that I am sure even if he were completely different than this, I would find those qualities the epitome of a young man. It is because he is my child and my son that I can see the greatness in him, and I have always viewed it as my spiritual obligation to always let him know that I do see and believe in the best in him, even when no one else- himself least- can see it.

Dakota once saved Lola. Mr. Curry, baby Lola and Dakota were out front of this very house, when Dakota pushed the button to close the garage door. At that moment, Lola ran past the truck and into the garage. As the door came down on her crawling self, Dakota threw himself on top of Lola, taking the brunt of the door, and Mr. Curry was there to lift the door and let them both out. He was nine.

Dakota thinks deeply and carefully about all of his opinions and interactions with the world. He has never been a bully. He has been in a handful of fist fights, always provoked. He came home after being jumped by three boys in middle school with bruises on his face. The school suspended him for punching the main guy in the face instead of running away, and Mr. Curry and I called and complained to them about their stupid ass policy and took Dakota to dinner.

Dakota told me my favorite joke. How do you make a tissue dance? You put a little boogie in it!

Dakota cut Lola's umbilical cord. He wrote to Mr. Curry this Father's Day Thank you for guiding me through my teenage years. He is the best big brother to Ian Oliver that you could imagine or hope for- fiercely protective of his younger brother, he will not allow even himself to joke meanly at Ian's expense ( the way brothers often can and do ), and despite their huge differences ( Ian is a straight A student who loves school while Dakota middles by and is bored, Ian is Republican, Dakota is straight Democrat, Ian likes gun shooting and Dakota likes skateboarding, Dakota is cutting edge and Ian could care less, Dakota is a big talker and Ian is quiet, etc ) Dakota has always found ways to connect them and although they are not blood brothers ( Ian is from Mr. Curry's first marriage ) Dakota considers this irrelevant- they are brothers, in the truest meaning. They love each other deeply and spend every moment Ian is here- two days and nights a week- together.

I feel a sense of reverence and awe about the birthdays of my children. They mark a day- something that rarely ever happens- when you can pinpoint: This day is when my life changed forever.