It seems that everything in Paris is tiny.  I suppose because space is at a premium here.  The chairs are tiny, the tables tiny, stores, cars, etc.

The one thing that I couldn't handle being tiny for an entire year was my morning coffee cup.  The cups that were here are small, the handle is barely big enough for me to fit two fingers through.  It just won't do, what I needed was "a mug".

I emailed my Dad and asked him to pick out a mug for me.  I wanted a little piece of him in Paris.  Mom said that he took my task to heart and looked high and low for the perfect mug.  Guess what?  He found it!

When I opened the package, "I ooohed and ahhhhed" when I saw the "G" and the size, thinking; "How sweet that this came from Dad".  I was picturing him spotting this mug and thinking "that's it".  As I held it closer I saw the phrase inside the mug "Love the Moment".  Perfect. 

I can guarantee you that I will certainly "Love the moment" in Paris.  Thanks a hundred times over Dad, I love you to the moon and back!

My father is one of eleven siblings.  He is the baby and has had to watch many of his siblings pass away.  HIs brother, Uncle Lou has been very sick and passed away last night.  

He died in my fathers arms, surrounded by his daughter, a beloved companion, and a nephew.  The visual of the four of them surrounding him as he drifted off to meet Jesus brings me to tears. 

I will forever remember Uncle Lou with a cigarette in his mouth, a cup of coffee(with 10 spoonfuls of sugar) in his hand, and a gravely voice.  

When I was a little girl, Uncle Lou was a weekly fixture around our house, along with many of my Uncles.  Most of them were in the landscaping business and often times one of them would park their truck in front of our house, and then another would spot it and park his truck, and so on and so on.  They would all congregate on the side patio smoking cigarettes and sipping coffee.  I loved looking out the kitchen window seeing all of them chatting in their work clothes.  I would run out with the pot of coffee refilling their mugs.  Every single one of them, including Uncle Lou, would light up with a smile and make me feel like they were happy to see me.  They always sneaked a silver dollar or quarter in my hand as well.

Whenever I think of you, I get a smile on my face.  You are my Pa from "Little House on the Prairie".  I always thought you looked like Michael Landon when I was growing up. 

I have always loved to be near you.  It didn't matter what we were doing, I just wanted to be in your presence.  I was secretly jealous of all the fishing and duck hunting trips my brothers got to go on.  I am sure I let my feelings known because I can remember a few fishing trips that I got to tag along on with you and my Uncles. 

I loved driving down to Newport Beach early in the morning sandwiched in between you and Uncle Rick sipping your coffee from a thermos and listening to 50's music.  Even more fun was sitting in the tiny motor dingy that you rented and cruising the bay searching for just the right fishing spot.  I delighted in sitting with you and whoever else could fit into the boat and listening to your stories.  Looking back, I think of how sweet you and my Uncles were to allow the little curly haired girl hang out with you.  They were rough around the edges but were so very sweet and kind to me. 

I can remember one trip when I was in second grade and you insisted I stand up in the little blue dingy and recite a poem that I had recently won a blue ribbon for in a speech meet.  I was absolutely mortified but you and my Uncles insisted.  There I was standing up, trying to keep my balance, reciting "The Butterfly and the Caterpillar"; hand motions and all.  Everyone sat watching  intently, eating their tuna sandwiches with huge smiles on their faces.  You were beaming with pride for your little girl.  A thunder of  applause filled the bay when I finished. 

I have many memories of spending time with you and they are all tucked away in my heart.  (Fathers don't realize the impact that they have on their little girls; it is huge.)  I remember hopping into your truck and bidding jobs with you, going up to "Stoovies" for rootbeer floats, Sunday drives to the beach, eating at The Jolly Roger, Vegas trips, you piling our entire neighborhood into the back of your truck and driving to Farrel's Ice Cream Parlour, the sound of your truck roaring up the driveway and me running out to greet you (you always saying "be careful, I am so dirty" when  I could have cared less), a special lunch at the mall where you bought me a gold necklace with a "G" for the charm, my first soccer practice in 5th grade; I was so nervous but you just said "Go on Gina and get in there" while you chatted with the coach,  you never missed a game.  I don't think you ever missed any of my sports games, cheerleading meets, speech meets, etc.  You  always made an effort to support me from the sidelines. 

I am so blessed to be the daughter of a hard working, intelligent, kind, compassionate and warm man.  You mean so much to me Dad and I am  blessed and honored to share a piece of you.  I hold it carefully with delicate hands protecting it.  I hope your year is filled with health, happiness and love.  Happy Birthday!
 

Did I actually write an entire essay about you without mentioning your Los Angeles Kings?!   Horrors!  Go Kings!!!!

You are "my kind of wonderful" Mom!  I count one of my biggest blessings in life as having you as my Mom.  You have made life so fun for all of us growing up.  Our days were spent playing outside in our little neighborhood or swimming in our pool.   Once a week you would pile as many kids as you could into our car and drive to the beach.  You loved the beach as much as we did and hated to go home.   So began my love affair with the ocean and it still continues to this day. 

You are sunshine and warmth wrapped in the most beautiful package!  I laugh when Sophie and Max "ooooh and ahhhhhh" about me when I dress up.  You would  think I was Miss America.  Funny thing is,  I DID have Miss America (or close enough) as my Mom and I didn't even notice it.  You were just my Mom.  You were that steady that kept the boat from rocking too hard, you always tried to shield me from the storms that blew at our home. 

You were and are such an amazing example of a Godly wife.  You and Dad always seemed so in love.  You two have this connection and an understanding of one another that is very unique.  You were such a good team and it always appeared that you were a united front.  It was a beautiful thing for a child to grow up with parents who love each other.   What a sense of security that brought  to my life.  Now that I am married and I know the work that goes into a marriage, I still am in awe of you.  You make it seem so effortless.    

I treasure our times together as adults.  I loved our trips to New York and Boston.  Our "girl get-away" trips to Mendocino and La Jolla.  There is nothing like having a close relationship with you as an adult.

Thank you for the love that spills out of you when you look at me.  You don't know you are doing it but I see it.  You are that soft spot for me and I know when I fall and need  dusting off, I can go  to you.  I will be given Godly advice, just enough love (I don't like to be too coddled), and just enough of a push to get me back on my feet again.  

You are the wife that I want to be, the Mother that I strive to be, the cook that I will never be,  and the creator I admire.   You are the quiet, elegant, graceful, feminine,
women that movies are made about.  You are goodness and grace tied up in a pretty package.  I wish you the happiest of Birthdays!

Scottish firecracker, swing dancer, fashionista, and health nut.  These are the words that flood my mind when I think of my Great Aunt Marguerite.   She passed away at 85 years old on October 10, 2009.  We had the honor of coming together yesterday to celebrate her life.  A life filled with laughter, love, tolerance, and compassion.    Your sparkling eyes will be missed along with our  kissed stained cheeks. 

 

Isn't he adorable???

It has become somewhat of a routine this little dance we do, to and from the airport.  It is our special time.  This is how the story goes.......

I get off the airplane, grab my bags and call Dad.  He tells me "I'll be there in five minutes" and I wait.  I try and stay away from the traffic cop we have named "the traffic nazi" because she will not allow anyone to linger more than 60 seconds while waiting for there loved one.  He pulls up in his white pick-up truck and I throw my suitcase in the back and jump into the front seat grabbing a quick hug and kiss.  His truck smells of wood chips and life savers.  He is always dressed in his Levi's, boots and white t-shirt.  We talk about life and the weather as he maneuvers through LA traffic.  Then, the radio gets turned on and 50's music fills the air as he says "remember this one"?  "Of course I do".  Thinking to myself, you have been playing 50's music for as long as I can remember.  He seems surprised as he turns up an old favorite and I belt out the lyrics right along with him. 

I can remember, when I was a little girl, sitting next to him as close as possible.  ( He seemed so big to me).  We would sit right next to the stereo and I would hand him his "eight tracks" and he would listen to his music.    He was lost in another world, another time, another era.  He  has the best voice and would belt out the lyrics to his favorite songs.  Some songs were upbeat and he would say "remember this one"?  Others brought tears to his eyes.  I watched this love affair with music feeling honored to be a part of such emotion.

Dad, thanks for taking the time to "dance with me".  It's the little things in life that matter and all of the little things my Dad has done  for me over the years could fill the Grand Canyon. 

As I am writing this my brother is celebrating his 42nd Birthday by running  the Long Beach Marathon.  How cool is that?  He has been a runner as far back as I can remember.  He learned early on that he would need to have endurance and speed to run from my mother who was always chasing him after getting into trouble.

Growing up as his little sister was a bit of a pain.  I must admit that I wasn't crazy about him growing up.  He was always teasing and torturing me.  Somewhere around the "tween years", he seemed to come around.  (Personally, I think it was because he got one look at my cute friends and thought that he needed to change his game plan).  He was right.  I fell in love with him as did a number of my girlfriends.    I still hold a torch for him in many ways.

He has grown into an amazing man.  He is a family man through and through.  He adores family and will do anything and everything it takes to come together and celebrate family.  

One time, after moving to Texas, he surprised the kids by ringing our doorbell on their Birthday.  He stayed for the day and had to fly back home.  Who does that?  He makes it a point to try and get our family together in the summers when he rents a beach house.  The days are filled with shell hunting, sandcastles, swimming, long walks, bike rides, kite flying and the nights are filled with campfires (in the driveway) and marshmallow roasting.  He is a  rock star when it comes to children, not just mine, anyones children.  It is amusing to watch.

Today I celebrate you Tim.  My love for you, although not spoken as often as it should, is endless.  I love you for loving my children so unabashedly, respecting my husband, honoring Mom and Dad, being the buffer between my Mom and Dad in times of conflict, the loyalty you have for Ana, your love for the Lord, your energy (it's contagious), your desire to want to spend time with me,  your acceptance, your generosity,  and the history we share together.

The memories are rich and full and I thank you for every single one of them.  From the days as a kid in Sierra Madre, riding our bikes on Ramona Street, playing dodgeball in the street, being banned from "the boys" treehouse, shirtless boys, go carts careening down Lima Street, raft races in the pool, carpooling to PCS and you tormenting poor Mrs. Green, the days at the beach, summer vacations spent on Balboa Island, riding on your handlebars, video games, visits from you at Heidi's Frozen Yogurt, crying on your shoulder about a boy in Dad's office, camping out at the Rose Parade and cruising Colorado Blvd. in the back of Dad's "tough truck", helping you on your pool routes in the summer and jumping into the customers pool's to cool off,  pushing the lawnmower and edger up Lima street to help you with some of your gardening jobs, house sitting with you after stocking up on junk food at Albertson's, all the concerts you took me too, trips to Vegas, Kings hockey games.  I could go on and on. 

Enjoy your day and always know deep in your heart that I am so proud to call you brother.