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I beat Barack's score by 30 points*...

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So as it turns out I don't like to bowl. Not one bit.
In all fairness, this might have something to do with the fact that I'm terrible at it. And when I say terrible, I mean really, really bad.
It's often said that the Polish have a natural gift for bowling. This gift was not passed on to me. Perhaps I have a little to0 much Irish in my blood.
I scored a 67 in my first game. This is 30 points better than Obama's infamous bowling debacle. Though, it should be noted he scored 37 points over only 7 frames and at that rate he would have ended up with 53 points. So, perhaps I only scored 13 better, but unless someone gives me a hard time, let's stick with the 30.

My aunt did much better than me. She's in a weekly bowling league and has her own ball. I consented to go so as to aid in her practice. Not by choice. I'm a good niece. Well, sometimes. Until I start complaining...
And become distracting with my mad flash-photography skills.
Naomi, this shot is for you. My size 10 feet look somewhat clownish in bowling shoes (another downside to the game). But Jonathan, I did think of you in picking out my socks (this picture doesn't do them justice--they have pink toes and heels).
My second score was slightly better at 84. But I felt this screen sums up the experience  better than I ever could:  Stop! Game Over. 
You don't have to tell me twice.
However, one should note that I am a fantastic bowler when it comes to a pick-up game of cricket. I discovered this skill while vacationing in Australia and shocked my male counterparts (don't pretend you don't remember this, Greg. Connor). Clearly, I grew up in the wrong country. So if the you ever need a bowler, you know who to call. But don't try to take me bowling. Unless there's a lot of beer involved--that my Irish genes could handle.

Banner Day...

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Naomi added me as a link on her page. This is kinda big, considering it was my love of her blog that got me going on this thing. I'm so excited and honored.

Speaking of my little "shot of happiness"...

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This is my beautiful photo album. I've even painted a light switch plate to match it. That has yet to arrive from Texas, but I'm sure when it does I'll take a picture and put it on here. (Yes, I'm addicted, I know).
My brother being baptized (3 1/2 years before I was born). Lets take a moment to marvel at my parents amazing fashion sense.
Now for my baptism. My dad looks happy, no? Oh, and my brother wanted to name me January. Thanks, Connor.
Speaking of family in alternative terms. Mr. Marsh joined us on our family vacation when I was about two. He worked with my father and tagged along without even asking. But you know what, my parents love him to this day because he did just that. Connor and I called him the Marshmellow man.
All the cousins. I was the only girl for a while. Needless to say, I was spoiled.
Grandma Jane, Aunt Sue, and Uncle Bunk. And my infamous Adrienne Vittadini outfit. I refused to take it off for the entire trip (or so I'm told).
I get a good chuckle out of this, my second grade project. I never understood why teachers didn't consider me a very bright student--that is, until I found this photo.
To this day my mother makes me a bunny cake for my birthday. I don't know when it started, but I don't ever want it to end.
Ariana and I performing one of our operas. Pretty sweet costumes.
With Jill after we sang "Sisters, Sisters" at the Rice Shepard school of music. I love these two lades very, very much.
And my adopt-a-family (sans Jonathan). I think I might just be the luckiest girl in the world!

Family in the best possible way...

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The two who brought us all together. And the beginning of what we affectionately call, "the congreg zone"
 
 
Goofing around one Christmas.
 
 
"Connor, why so serious?" 
 
 
Burger Lake outing. At this point Stace and Greg were actually living in the Four Seasons hotel. Man was life good!
 
 
All of us together for a good 80's Christmas portrait.
 
 
Greg and Connor off to the Christmas dance. 
 
 
At the infamous Lupes. 
 
 
Robyn and Stace made a quick stop in NYC on their around-the-world ticket. Unfortunately, Stace was sick, I was heart-broken, and we were all exhausted out of our minds. One of these days we're gonna have to try that again.
 

 

Stace in her gorgeous dress with husband Nick and the rest of the fam. Robyn, domestic goddess,  actually made her own outfit. Yes, she's that good.
 
I'm not quite sure what has possessed me to blog on this topic today (oh my gosh, I really am becoming a blogger). I think it has to do with suddenly having a lot of time on my hands to scan pictures (I told you there was no stopping me now), but also having that time to reflect on what's important.
I'm suddenly starting my own life, staking a claim, making it my own. And so, okay, I'm not sure what I want to do, I'm not sure I want to be an actor. And that's okay. I'm happy. Really happy, and I haven't always been. After making the choice to spend my summer at home with my family (ghasp) I spent some time culling through the family albums (stealing all of Mom's best photos--I keep waiting for her realization) and making my own. I wanted to bring something with me for those moments of when I felt most alone. Essentially I was trying to bottle a shot of happiness. I put in pictures that remind me of those people I love most and of the moments that have shaped who I am at this very moment.
One of the great luxuries in life is that we get to choose those people that populate our life.
Christmas of '06 I spent down under with my family (in the conventional sense of the word) and my family (in the best sense of the word). Stace was getting married.
Okay, maybe I need to back up and give a little history. My brother, Connor fell in love at the ripe old age of three with Greg (come on boys--you know I'm using the term "love" loosely, don't get your panties in a twist). When my parents went in for Connor's parent teacher conference they learned of Greg and of how the two would kiss each day before parting ways (and yes, this time I mean "kiss" literally--I can't wait until one of them gets married and all the good stories come out!). Well, because of this my parents met Greg's parents, Russell and Robyn and it was quickly learned that my dad and Greg's dad worked (and still do work) for the same company. So a simple twist of fate brought our two families together: Russ, Robyn, Stace, and Greg. And my dad, mom, brother, and me. However, our families constantly missed living in the same city. We would move to Dallas just as they would return to Houston. We would then leave Dallas for Houston once more, just as they planned to move to Dallas. But somewhere along the way we would make time for ski trips, Burger lake outings, and some old-time Christmas chaos.
Okay, so back to Christmas of '06--Stace was getting married to Nick (who we approved of immediately seeing as he is just divine and the two of them are perfect together). It had been a long time since I'd been to a wedding and its a very different thing witnessing vows as a nine-year-old versus seeing it at the age of twenty-one. For the first time, I began to think about the kind of things I will want people to say about me and about the man I've chosen to spend my life with. It was enlightening. But the other great learning part of the trip is that we were surrounded the entire time by people who did nothing but laugh at themselves. If you can't laugh at yourself, then I'm quite sure you've missed the point completely.
So all this is to say: I want to spend my life laughing and celebrating the small things with everyone I love: my parents, brother, friends, adopt-a-family, surrogate family--the list goes on an on. Because what all those people have in common is this: when I'm with them, I feel like I'm home.