If not now then when?

Change 

is written 

in the hearts of men.

Society tells us it isn't, but our Spirits tell us something different. Mine tells me that no matter how blood red my soul becomes, there is One, he is the Son. He will make them white again, so that I can return home. I embrace change, I fall into it; heavy laden, after a weary day, falling deep into that warm, dark down comforter. I relish the ache that change brings to my sinews, the tears that it draws from my eyes, and the DOUBT it assuredly brings. Oh lordy, the doubt; may that doubt take me out into the wilderness, lead me to the mountain tops, tear a cry from my bosom! I'll shout from the top, and I'll watch the world change below me, because nothing ever stays the same. And sometimes that light from the top of the mountain pours down golden upon the land, pools in all the valleys, and shines like Christmas morning. But there are other times, when the mountain seems to split, and through the cracks and crags comes a deep dark burgundy that drenches the land. There are always two sides to the coin; but it doesn't matter, because there is only one way: Onward, Brothers and Sisters!

So in this season of change, take a moment to breathe it in. I wish you knowledge, joy, peace, charity, and adventure.



Mumford and Sons - The Boxer (Simon and Garfunkel Cover) from curicuis on Vimeo.

When I was Young

When I was a a young gun, I read a lot of inappropriate books. I have an inappropriate relationship with books, period. So many books devoured raw, beastially (not a real word); not even a hello, or a thank you. I consume, I destroy spines, I steal. I once kept a copy of W. Somerset Maugham's The Razor's edge for a whole year in high school, because I couldn't bear for it to go back to the school library, probably to never be picked up again (heathens).

When I was young I loved anything extraterrestrial, evil, or supernatural. I read every book our library had on witches, aliens, the lochness monster, ESP, and unexplained phenomena. I once read a reference book, on the history of witches, when I was 7 or 8, it told me that some believed a witch became a witch when she fornicated with the devil. That was a doozie.

I read Uncle Tom's Cabin in the 6th grade. Inappropriate. What in my little 11 year old brain thought that my comprehension was there?

I took a 400 level Russian Literature in Translation class as a freshman in college...for fun. Ha HA.

What is it about books that make me maniacal. The smell (I almost never buy new books, only used, or from the library), the notes and names written in throughout, the sense that your history was written right here in this book, maybe over a hundred years ago (Dr. Zhivago?). It lives, it breathes, it waits patiently for you to come along, and then it opens like a lotus, like a uterus, dilating to deliver a new being to you. It's true, I've found new worlds in paper and ink. I've changed as a person when reading the likes of Ayn Rand. I will probably even bow down to the likes of Judy Bloom in heaven. (She was never really my thing, you know, not much time between conspiracy theories, but 'Are you there God? It's me, Margaret', can help anyone).

Raise your hand if you used to fantasize about those pages at the very end of an old paper back. The ones that told you a price and an address, and the would mail you the newest and best, or the first and the golden of this author, or a similar theme by an author you've never heard of, exciting! I used to yearn to send away to those addresses in New York. Many of my books were published long, long before my coming to this earth though, but, I wondered what would happen if I sent that form off. Was there anyone still there? Were they still selling copies of Ray Bradbury serials? Would someone in a dark, beautiful, old corner, send me spiralling into a beautiful mystery by sending me an ancient Neverending Story?

When one needs to escape from reality, the book is always waiting. I took advantage at a much too delicate age. I am Captain Ahab now, and I will never be satiated with the smell of the sea!!!!(of books)!!!!!

I named my son Royce SOMERSET Lyons.

Thank you,  Brother Maugham. Thank You.

Vida Bida

Vida is sick.

That's her on July 5, the day we found out she has Nephrotic Syndrome, caused by Minimal Change Disorder. In a short order: her kidney's be broken. She went on a heavy course of steroids for six weeks, with another six week weaning process after that. She just finished earlier this week. They don't know what causes it, or what could trigger a relapse. Basically, she has a 70% of it never happening again. But, if it does happen again, she then has a 90% chance or relapsing over and over, until she will most likely grow out of it as a teenager. We're hoping that it will never happen again, and we're using garlic as a homeopathic method to fight of further relapses. The swelling should never happen again; but,all the proteins in her body get flushed out, leaving her body nothing to build all the important things, like an immune system. Prayers and good vibes accepted now.

She put on six pounds of water weight, and couldn't fit in any of the clothes we took to the lake(where we found out about the MCD).

The prednisone made her a crazy town for a while, like, absolutely incoherent. It was really sad; it also made her lethargic. This is her under her blanket, I watched as the shorts she was wearing slowly inched there way off her body, and out from under the blanket. NO CLOTHES!

Sad Belly

By her birthday in Aug, she was doing pretty well, just chubby steroid cheeks.

We go Nov 13, to the specialist, for a check-up. Let's do this!

ROYCE

I feel bad, this guy hasn't gotten any of the cool blog posts that Vida received, I'm sure he'll be super kvetched when he's thirty. But this dude rocks! He just turned 11 months, and he's walking up a storm! He won't clap his hands, or wave unless I do it like 8 million times, but he still earns his keep somehow. He's very even keeled and doesn't care a bit that Vida snatches every toy of "her's" that he takes. They love each other so much, and love to play together, sometimes they sit in the back of the car and just laugh and laugh at each other in their carseats. Royce has almost eight teeth, weighs 23 lbs, and I don't know how tall, I just call him fat hobbit. He's also got an angel smile. We're in love with this sweet, sweet little man who loves to give us big open mouth kisses, and cuddles.

EPIC PHOTO POST summertime!

Summer was fabulous, and chaotic, and a bit startling/sad, more on that to come...here's a photo montage to go with that episode of bachelor pad you're watching, you filthy animal.

Ro Ro is a gangsta

the perennial lake

the boat tied up is Brandon's new lover

this awesome town called Yak

Vida hiding

my family came to the lake this year!

our little lily of the valley

after our first triathlon

Royce and Dior learning to eat

this is how Vida wears every helmet

BAM