Genetic Garbage

This winter I started wearing a brand new, never before worn coat that’s been hanging in my closet for…the last decade. I know this is extreme. I blame it on what my husband likes to call “genetic garbage.” It makes me who I am, and marks me as a member of my own little tribe of weirdos.

A couple years ago, I was at an event with my two sisters. Two of us couldn’t stop cooing over the dress our sister was wearing.

“You look so chic!”

“How come we’ve never seen you wear that before? Is it new?”

Our sister sheepishly confessed that it wasn’t new, but she had never worn it before. It had been hanging in her closet for a while.

“I have this thing about wearing new clothes…I’m too embarrassed to wear things right away when I buy them. So then when I eventually do wear something and someone asks me if it’s new, I can honestly say: No, I’ve had it for a while.”

“I DO THAT TOO!!!” I shrieked.

“SO DO I!!!” our other sister said.

We’ve made other discoveries like this over the years. Once my sister told us that she would hate it when people sang Happy Birthday to her, because it always made her tear up from embarrassment. Until then, I thought I was the only who had that weird reaction.

A few years ago that same sister and I realized we share yet another genetic garbage trait. For years I suffered from the feeling that my legs were burning hot. One day I texted my sisters to ask, “Does anyone else feel like their thighs are as hot as curling irons?” To my surprise, my sister immediately texted back “YES!” She went on to explain that her natural instinct to research the problem was hampered by her fear of googling “hot thighs.” She eventually diagnosed our issue as a kind of neuropathy, for which there is nothing to be done but to commiserate with one’s sister and fellow sufferer!

The classic example of genetic garbage on my husband ‘s side of the family is “concentration tongue.” Whenever my father-in-law, husband, son, or daughter are performing a task that requires focus, their tongues slide out of their mouths. If the task is really demanding, the tongue starts to waggle back and forth. The harder the task, the faster the waggle:

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Ping-pong induced concentration tongue: barely detectable, but present.

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Impossible to miss concentration tongue

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“I think I almost have it…”

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It’s like the swoosh…

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…concentration tongue makes you run faster.

Anybody else share “genetic garbage” traits with their family members?

Happy Weekend! It looks like we’re going to get walloped with snow in our corner of the world. Good thing I have a coat to wear! ; )

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ten years ago

Shutterfly has jumped on the “Memory” wagon and I love it…Last week they emailed me these photos from a Christmas card photo shoot ten years ago!

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We’re going to see that no-longer-little-sprite-on-the-right very soon…I just bought his train ticket. He’ll be home for the holidays from his first semester of college by the end of the week!

Weekend Snapshots 65

Friday

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Off to school…dressed for her We the People presentation.

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Zephyrus Christmas concert…Missing my old camera!!!

Saturday

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The most stressful day of every semester – the dreaded Recital Day – is DONE! PHEW!

Sunday

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The snow was supposed to miss us…

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Monday

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It didn’t. Poor tree!

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Snow day for the kids, and late day for the parents!

 

Thanksgiving Weekend

Waiting for the rest of the family to arrive…

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What a joy to see our college boy…

So thankful for my sis.

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Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life…

Skyping with our niece in Edinburgh…

Showing her my mom’s inexplicable “Man Lady” purse.

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Big cousins appreciating their little cousin’s creative efforts…

Sad to say goodbye to this boy until Christmas.

After we dropped Grandma & Grandpa off in Arlington, this guy drove us almost all the way to Charlottesville.

…and home, sweet home.

Hope

It was pouring rain this morning when I asked my trusty sidekick to get dressed and go vote with me, even though she hasn’t been feeling well. Just a couple weeks ago, she had played the role of Leslie Cockburn in a debate for Civics class and had won the mock election. I wanted her to be there when I cast my vote.

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Go, Leslie, go!

Despite the wide grins…IMG_6810

…we’ve actually been feeling like this all day:

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But the future is NOW…and we are going to live in hope. Even on a cold and wet day, there is beauty to be found…

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We live in hope.

 

Weekend Snapshots 64

On Friday my daughter and I traveled south to Virginia Beach for a soccer tournament. My husband traveled north to pick up our college boy at the train station for his first trip back home since starting school. Boy #2 had a jam-packed weekend of activities that kept him at home in Charlottesville.This girl was thrilled that her very first and most beloved soccer coach got to see her play one and a half games on the first day of her tournament before driving back home to Charlottesville with his dad. Their mama was pretty darn happy too.img_6641-1

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Tournament Champs!

This morning the younger siblings had to say goodbye to their big brother before leaving for school. As we made our way back to Union Station in D.C., I tried to convince my son that it would be a fabulous idea to stop off at the barber’s and the pharmacy for a flu shot. Guess which one he agreed to?

With arms still a bit sore from our flu shots, we stopped off at Grandma and Grandpa’s for lunch before heading to Union Station. They managed to extract a promise from the boy to get his hair cut by the end of October.

“Mom, Dad, I think you’re shrinking!”

In the midst of a very dark time, it was a balm for the soul to see my happy, thriving, shaggy-haired college boy.