Working backwards-- we went to a party on Sat. night at my girl Cindy's. Cindy is this meek woman who teaches Tassy piano and also works with me on the newsletter for TN Writers Alliance. The woman wears skirts, bakes brownies and plays the tamborine to hymns. So when I tell you she has the best parties around, you might tend to think I am in my dellusional phase again. But no doubt, they are great. The people are always artsy hang-on-the-perimeter-of-society people and the guitars and keyboard get dragged into the back yard where the wine is flowing and people are laughing. Except for one tiny disagreement over the benefits of soy, it was an immaculate night. I carried on the interpretive dancing that I learned in Bennington under the tutelage of Andrea. "Daniel" by Elton John was a hit, what with all those twinkling stars and tears in the eye.
Prior to that though, we weren't going to go. We didn't have a babysitter. My parents only live here 6 months of the year and it is the six months that no one invites us to anything.
So I called Cindy to decline. Within a few hours she called back telling me she had procured a babysitter for me. A sweet young girl named L.
This girl has a great family, experience with little sisters and plays soccor for her high school soccer team. And she only has one arm. Frankly, she proves that we only really need one arm in life and therefore saps the "intelligent" out of the intelligent design debate.
So when I talk to the midgets in the morning, I ask them what they did. Oh, they had great fun and played games. Oh, what games? Twister. Twister? So then I wonder if my oldest has a bit of a competitive streak. Of all the Candy Land and Strawberry Shortcake games, the MouseTrap and Hungry Hungry Hippos, which game is going to make the babysitter lose when the little spinny wheel lands on "Right hand on red?"
To start the weekend, my family and I enjoyed a moving ceremony at the Nashville courthouse where my husband became "naturalized." He is now a citizen of America, as well as Australia.
We took Tassy out of school so we all could go. It was a solemn affair and neither Colin nor I thought that it would affect us as much as it did. The speech written by the judge was very inspiring, and as I watched each person, one by one, stand and say their name and what country they were leaving to come here, I got a little teary. Granted, Australia is not a horrible place where people shack up in freight containers to escape from. But when an old Iraqi man can barely stand to say his name and a young Chinese girl next to him helps him to his feet, it is really moving.
Afterward, we went out to celebrate. So there we were, an Australian-American sitting with his half Cuban wife (whose father still celebrates the day he naturlaized fifty plus years ago) with one stark white-haired girl and other curly-top girl, eating knishes and blintzes in a jewish deli in downtown Music City restaurant called Noshville. So natural.