as far as the eye can see

from Ryan Register's flickr

Last night I dreamed that I was in a van with a few people, riding on the bridge to St. George Island. The sea on either side was full to the horizon with dolphins, leaping and diving. As we neared the shore we could see people walking into the water, splashing in the shallows, hugging and petting the large animals, laughing with joy over the amazing gathering.

My sister Jessie wanted to join them but felt afraid. I urged her into the water. "Go!" I told her, "Go! When will you see this again?" and she smiled and went.

So, Jess, I don't know what you're feeling unsure about doing right now, but I think I'm in favor of whatever it is.

Sunday and a ham.

Bottle tree at Mama's house, new and improved.

Granny, Jessie, Lily, Owen, and sweet ol' Pearl dog.

Mama and Kathleen, taking the breeze.

Mama always takes the pictures, so I felt like I'd put her in a few instead.

Where Mama holds court.

The Ma and the Pa.

Mama making rolls and swapping stories.

To me, this looks like Owen is at a cocktail party, but really May just got off work and hasn't changed yet.

Jessie, looking very mama.

May and Mark, smokin' menthols.

Granny, Jessie, Mama, eating hummingbird cake under the trees.

Owen enjoying his Uncle Mark's company.

Mama, communing with the chickens.

Sorry, I didn't get any pictures of the ham.

Mr. Owen Curtis

9 pounds, 4 ounces. Born 9/26. 42 hours of labor. My sister's a badass. Welcome to the world, little man!

a good day to be born

Looks like the time has (started to) come! I'll let y'all know what's up next time I get on a computer.

waiting for the baby

Well, it looks like we're coming up on the big event. My sister Lily is headed to the hospital with her husband and our mama, and words like "induce" and "ripened cervix" are getting thrown around. (How do they ripen a cervix? Put it in a paper bag with a banana?)

I've had so many text messages this afternoon from sisters and close friends that my cell phone ran out of charge. I keep saying, no, it'll be hours and hours before anything happens, but after waiting months and months that doesn't seem like such a long time.

Lily's a hell of a woman, pink velvet around an iron will. I don't know if she's looking at two days of labor or just enough time to call in the troops and push Owen into the world, but either way I know she's got the strength to get through.

A friend just asked if we should bring presents to her in the hospital. I said, "No, she'll have a present - a baby!"

the family that blogs together...

So, one of my many sisters has stuck her toe in the Ocean of Blog. Roll Up the Rugs

And, of course, my mama's blog is always lively and worth reading. Bless Our Hearts

Just in case you wanted some new reading material.

roll it up

You know how there are certain activities that seem to require certain statements when performed? Evidentially, when you make sushi you have to say, "It's like rolling a joint." At least, that's what nearly everyone came up with as we put together all sorts of delicious fish and veggies and mango slices with rice and seaweed last night to celebrate Mother's Day.

Food and drug comparisons aside, you know what I think I love best about our family? We are just so damn funny. Maybe not to anyone else, but you get all us kids together with mom and dad, and we can crack each other up for days. Lily's sly, May's the actress, Jessie just jumps in sometimes with a line that puts you on the floor. I nearly got out of breath helping to make dinner, just from the jokes going around the room.

Thanks, mom. I sure love you.

you were a little baby very long ago

As most anyone reading this knows, I come from a sprawling bunch that's sort of half Addams family and half Louisa May Alcott's March family. 3 sisters, me, mom, stepdad, dad, stepmom, uncles, aunts, cousins, shirt tail cousins, best friends, former bandmates, grannies, friends we didn't know were cousins until years after we bonded - you get the idea. With this many of us, we've got birthdays and odd little celebrations scattered throughout the year. But for my core group, the folks I sat down to dinner with most nights growing up, birthday season is upon us.

Today, my baby sister hits 19 and granny's marking 81. Sis is a bright, smiling, singing girl. I believe she once called herself the white sheep of the family. She got dad's natural physical abilities - no training wheels for her bike, no sir, and the day she got her first rollerblades she was going up and down stairs in them. (Me, I think if man was meant to roll on wheels we'd been born with them.) As a preschooler, she used to like to do pull ups on whatever was handy - the freezer door, monkey bars, my outstretched arm. Well, it turns out that translates to musical ability, too. I can't carry a tune in a two handled bucket, but she took to the mando like a hamster to cheery tomatoes. She's aced her first year at FSU. All this, and she's so damn sweet natured that you can't hate her for it.

Granny's on the other side of life, looking back. And, I tell you what, I know people in their 50s that aren't half as healthy or on top of things as she is. She still drives her little red nu-bug around town (although, to be honest, she is the only person that I, grandpa driver that I am, have ever been behind in traffic and found myself thinking, God damn it, please speed up!). She could stand on her head into her 60s, and would for her grandkids' entertainment and delight. She walks daily, travels the world when she can, and tells crazy stories about my alcoholic biograndfather when I take her out to lunch from time to time.

Next up in the birthday play list comes my sister May (guess what month), then myself two weeks after. One of my greatest pleasures comes from throwing great big parties, complete with a keg of beer, a table of food, show-style fliers as invitations, and usually some theme I can force on my friends. (Pirates for my 30th, for example. I need to figure out what I'll throw together for this year.) And so on, through the summer.

When we were kids, birthdays always involved spreading a sheet on the lawn for an outside supper; juicy juice (a real treat for us hippie kids); a friend or two over to spend the night; books and outdoorsy toys; and a cake by request. One year May figured out she could get two key lime pies from mom - one for her own pleasure, one for the rest of us.

Birthday season, I love it! Bring on the shrimp salad and red velvet cake!

Always Thankful

Now that's how Thanksgiving should go. Rolling Stones songs and bluegrass waltzes on fiddle, mandolin, and guitar. Beer and oysters on ice. Laughing until tears squirt out of your eyes and you have to lean against the door frame to keep your knees from giving out. Family and friends and not really being sure where the line between the two could be drawn. Casseroles named for veggies but mostly made up of cheese and canned cream soup. Eating dinner on tables in the yard while the dogs try to beg without being obvious.

Not much else to say, except that I'm a mighty thankful guy.

The Bounty of Our Land

Dad caught a mess of bream, and mama dredged them in cornmeal and fried them with fresh okra in her gleaming, black skillet. He and my kid sisters woke up at six on Sunday and beat the crowd to St. Marks, bringing home (at the expense of bright red sunburns) and shucking sweet scallops, enough for us all to have our fill once mama married them to butter and garlic. Tomatoes, green beans, and cucumbers grown right there in their Lloyd yard filled the salad with Florida sunshine. Fresh squash, chopped and molded into croquettes, and grits more cheese than corn filled the plate to overflowing. The whole meal started out with freshly made salsa (mason jars full, lined up on the kitchen counter from canning the day before) and ripe cherries and finished up with sliced fruit poured over angelfood cake and lemon squares from a friend.

All of us on a Sunday night, in and out of the bright kitchen, sisters dancing in the high-ceiling hall, my best friend and his wife telling stories and smoking cigarettes on the back porch while trains boom past, dad half asleep and smiling from all the hunting and gathering, mama slinging pans and doling out hugs and advice and gossip. So many blessings.