Did I tell you that we found him that same morning? Yes. He’s back! And I couldn’t be happier 
What’s more, we went on a picnic Sunday! This kind!
I know, right?! Who does that anymore? As you can see–we do! For such an occasion I put on a puffy dress. This one!
And we put our red picnic blanket down in the shade of an old house near the beach where we ate sandwiches and he told me of his adventure. It was the most beautiful day in Ensenada! Sigh.
I don’t really need to tell you all this but I’m writing it here so that I’ll always remember. Romantic gestures should never be overrated.
This is Nicolas Ieno Urban. He went missing on Monday, November 14, 2011 7:50pm at the Mexico City airport en route to Ensenada and with every minute that passes my heart tears a little more. It’s at times like this when my faith is tested that I realize what a lame Christian I really am. Sure the first day was easy enough to pray, wait, and tell myself “that’s just my capricious boy Nico. Any minute now he will be on the phone or at the door with a grin and an apology; we’ll forgive him in exchange for a ball and chain.” But as the day wears on and I let my imagination take me down horrible paths I start to lose it.
Now the problem here is he’s not related to me leaving me quite helpless to do anything in regards to the legal system. So I’m panicking – with all the trimmings – weeping, pacing, retching, none of which will help him and God knows it doesn’t do me any good either. Bless his family who are dealing with it masked by brave faces. And me? Apparently, I’ve taken to talking to myself by means of this here blog, so with it I’ll add a prayer…
Lord, I know You know how much his family and I love and care for him, and I also know You love and care for him much more than we ever could. So I know You’re looking out for him. You said “What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall have them.” There are a lot of things I’m uncertain of right now but I believe he’s alive. I know that for a fact because I still have hope. So now I’m asking You to care for him wherever he is and bring him home. Amen.
In the end everything will be alright. If it isn’t alright, it isn’t the end.
If you’re like me you probably have a hard time expressing yourself. Hence, I’ve started this, my very own hate club, to convey to you (the world) my feelings so there won’t be any misunderstanding.
I’ll start off with pancakes 
. Yes, that’s right. You eat one and realize that somehow, subconsciously, it has let you down; so you take another and top it off with another delightful topping, but still it doesn’t seem quite right. The process repeats itself on and again until you find yourself chock-full and sickened with disappointment (or is it those #@*$%# pancakes?).
On the same topic we have omelettes 
. Gosh, they look good, don’t they? Every breakfast buffet at their egg counter with their long line of customers leave you more than time enough to decide just how you want your eggs. Or do they? Decisions, decisions, and then the pressure, so you go with the omelet because the guy in front of you did as will the next 3 or so behind you. It’s only when you’re half way through it that you realize just what it is that’s wrong and it’s not all the delicious ingredients inside–it’s the egg casing and it’s sickening. Mental note. In the future just scramble them.
Carrots
. Aside from their exciting color and how cute they look in their mini form, they don’t register. It’s not until you look down and find half the bowl gone and an ache in your jaw from incessant chewing that you realize they’re not a worthy root to be planting in your stomach–not to mention once they’ve been cooked. Ewww.
Next on the roster we have shirts with those crooked seams. Can you believe someone actually designed those on purpose. I couldn’t believe it when I first threw one on and then spent the rest of the day trying to adjust it, because, really, what’s the point?! No, I don’t now look amazing. I look as if there is something off, like as if I wore my shirt inside out, but you’re not quite sure till you see the tag. Also, I believe it reflects your mental stability
. Yes, I am judging you.
Now, if you’ve ever folded a fitted sheet 
you’ll know what I’m saying when I add it here to my hate list. So maybe I have figured how the pros are folding them correctly, but I hate all those hours I’ve spent trying to perfect it, even still it’s just not right. Right is when the corners match up, the edges align, and the finished product lays flat. Perfection is the name of the game and until we’ve achieved such there will always be something to strive toward.
These adorable babies here are allegedly made of chocolate! I know, right?! And now we can heartedly agree with the cannibal who loved children – ’cause I too adore the platter of little feet!
Joy, you’ll never get the recognition you deserve for the 7 years of hard work and tears (yes, tears) you put into this place, but probably a whole lot more than you’ll receive in… well, where you do things that we’ll never talk or hear of. Yet we know that you’re in a better place and we’ll see you again in Heaven.
In the meantime we’re happy for the time we had with you, and happier still to share you – cause when you stock up on Joy there’s enough to go round! Singing…
Kiss all the handsome men for me!
Here they are! The last there will ever be.
An Old Fashioned Christmas…
Santa Baby…
A Charlie Brown Christmas…
A Christmas Carol…
– by Richard Cunningham Emerson and Heather Diamant
Copyright © 2009 LG
I won’t dance, don’t ask me
I won’t dance, don’t ask me
I won’t dance, monsieur, with you
My heart won’t let my feet do things they should do.
When you dance you’re charming and you’re gentle,
And you, oh, what you do to me!
And that’s why I won’t dance, why should I?
I won’t dance, how could I?
I won’t dance, merci beaucoup
I know that music leads the way to romance.
So if I hold you in my arms I won’t dance.
(edited for unedifying content)
Time again for my… Thinking Chair! Right! 
Scientists debate whether or not people dream in color. You’d think they could break it down logically but, no. Here we step in to lead the way on this important discovery…
Now you may be saying “Of course I dream in color!” But the question here is: are you lying to yourself? Think, for example, if you were blind would you then dream in color? Claro que no! And that’s because you’d have never seen it. Point being the only reason you know it’s there is because your mind tells you so. (Here we might add something about a tree falling down in the woods… but let’s stick to the subject at hand.) There. You’re putting way too much emphasis on that brain of yours.
Your mind also tells you you’re in pain or hungry etc… but what does he know? Shut it down with a few nerve killing meds and you forget all about it. What’s more, can you remember it? Of course not! As that would make life unbearable. Sure you remember it hurt real bad cause you can associate it with your tears or cries – ouch! OUCH! OUCH! and in the same way you can recall color with word association but in all reality it probably resembles more of a color by number. 
Where does color come from anyways? Light, right? 
And, unless you have some disturbing third eye, the only way for it to enter is through your eyes which should, during sleep, remain shut. Sure a little can seep through your eyelids but no more than what you’d get on a starless night. 
So now I’ll ask again, and think carefully before responding inoluntarily. Do you dream in color? … It’s all right. You can quit struggling now. You’ve won the victory over yourself. I read this quote that will probably soothe your bewildered mind as it’s more relevant than the original by Kipling. “If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs, it’s just possible you haven’t grasped the situation.” In other words – I’m not the emperor who’s naked. You would be the fool.
Congratulations, Angie! We always knew you’d carry on our line! We are proud to be called Aunts. We love you xxx!
No, those smiles aren’t forced. They come with the joy of having just filled two buckets! And, yes, they really are posing with $#!%. As the saying goes “Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.” And, really, what could be better? Already I find them hanging on my arm begging for the chance to do it again and fighting over who will get to carry the bucket. How simple are the joys of youth.
Copyright © 2009 LG
