The Pink Teddy Bear of Victory

My earliest memory is of this pink teddy bear. My father’s co-workers pooled their money together to buy it for my older sister.



Heather contracted bacterial meningitis when she was three. Her condition worsened rapidly, and doctors feared that she wouldn’t live through the night. My mother remembers that they let me into the room to see her. Heather was poofy with steroids, and I ran to her, trying to say her name. “Heaf-her! Heaf-er!” I cried. My mom remembers that the nurses were crying, too, at what they thought might be our last good-bye. Heather put her arms around me, and said “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Thankfully, Heather lived. The doctors called her a “miracle baby.” Seeing this picture always reminds me of how close we came to losing her, and how grateful I am to have had such a wonderful friend all these years.

Think Tink

My daughter is uber-excited for Halloween. We have a ticker running on her Daddy's laptop, and it looks like we're down to 44 excruciating days. Of course, she already has her costume. She begs to wear it or her sequined-pumpkin Halloween shirt every day.

Pronouns, Pronounced

Violet informed me the other day that she is a girl, and I am a girl. But Daddy is a boy, and therefore, a “he.” She then completed the thought by saying we were “sheses.”

Why-no-ning

My daughter is thrilled that we are finally in the Wyoming (pronounced: Why-no-ning) house. And I am thrilled that it’s an old house (built 1915). Don’t tell my husband, but I am in love with the laundry chute. I don’t want him to get suspicious as I linger in the hallway, excitedly throwing the socks and underwear through and listening to the dull thud as the clothing hits the basement floor. I am also in love with the natural lighting in the house.

Violet is looking forward to flying her kite in the Wyoming wind. I am looking forward to getting all of our stuff (some is being sent from Korea, some is in storage in South Dakota, and 17 boxes have arrived from Boise). Then again, I’ll be sad when we have furniture again. That means the toilet won’t purr at me anymore, because Nermal will have better places to hide and won’t be cowering behind the fixtures…