Pieces of Me

I know it's been a while since I posted.  That's mainly because in order for one to blog about their lives, one must have a life-and I haven't had much of a life lately.  Lately, my existence has consisted mainly of waking up, taxi'ing everyone around, going to my 3 million jobs (not really, but it feels like it), and then coming home and doing the dinner/homework/bedtime routine.  Come evening, I just don't feel like talking to y'all.  

No offense.  

Anyway, a better writer would be disciplined and sharp enough to sit down and turn their mundane experience into interesting stories, but you all know that that's not me.   I'm happy to be a mediocre writer who's kind enough to have saved you the pain of reading about my boring life and who waited to document it until I had something worth sharing.  

Like the Dia De Los Muertos altar that I created in our home last weekend. 

Don't freak out- I'm not going all pagan on you guys.  I'm not even going to pretend that I know enough about Dia De Los Muertos to even have made an authentic altar.  I learned enough in my college course on Cultural Sensitivity to know that any true Mexican may look at this white girl's altar and become deeply offended- but to be honest, I spent that entire course biting my tongue and fighting the urge to tell people to LIGHTEN UP ALREADY.  

With that in mind, here's why I made a Day of the Dead Altar:  

1) because my friend Lisa had one in her house last year and it was really cool

2) because I like the idea of having a place in my house where family members who have passed on are remembered, even if it is only for a couple of weeks.

3) because I'm the boss and I can if I want to

Seriously though, the farther along I got in the process, the more important #2 became to me.  

For instance, here's a picture of Billie, my mom's mom, and her mom- who I called Mama Kay.  I never knew Billie because she died before I was born, but my Mama Kay lived until I was 8 or 9.  She was a Southern Belle who wore Coral colored lipstick everyday.  

 She had many husbands and a ton of secrets.  In fact, I should probably do some research on her.  It'd probably make a good novel.  

If you're wondering what that shot glass is doing there, many altars
include objects that were favored by the deceased.  They also feature food and drink to give to the "spirits" on their journey.  I figure I'm just killing two birds with one stone.  It was no secret that my grandmother liked to party- so there you go, Billie.  Cheers! 

Here's a picture of Mr. C's grandparents: 

Nuts, you can't see.  Look down towards the shadows and you'll see that there's a tool there from his grandfather, who was a do-it-yourself-fix-it-man.  

Do you have time for a short ghost story? 

One time Mr. C came in from the garage kind of spooked.  He said that he was thinking about his grandfather when, all of a sudden, this one tool that happened to belong to his grandpa rolled off the table and fell onto the floor.  Mr. C said he hadn't been touching the table or anything.  

I love that kind of story.  Gives me the best kind of chills. 

The other thing in the picture there is a cork screw that grows out of a dog's butt.  I didn't ask why that was one of the "favored" objects that Mr. C chose to include, and I don't really want to examine what it means that it's included.  The answer could be scarier than any ghost story. 

That's my grandfather- my mom's dad.  He helped Boeing engineer the fuel-injected jet plane, but ended up being buried on Potter's Field.  Long story that I really only know a bit of. 

I really should write a novel, I tell you. 

There's some more pics of Billie. 

And finally, 

some more pics of Mr. C's Hungarian relatives on the left.  On the right is my great- grandfather when he was a boy with his parents, who (I think) were direct immigrants from Wales.  

Neat-o.

Also, the picture is too small for you to see, but the lady sitting in the picture on the left is Matt's grandmother. If you look real hard, you can see that Princess G has the same wide cheek bones and face shape.  Except for the blond hair, the resemblance is a little astonishing.  For this reason, we like to tell her that she's a Hungarian Gypsy.  

She loves it.  

So that's it.  That's my post on my Dia de los Muertos altar.  You all may think I'm weird for even putting one up, and truth be told, it started out as mainly being another way to decorate the house for Halloween.  But since I've put it up, I keep finding myself drawn over to that corner.  I'll spend long moments staring at the pictures and making observations.  I'm noticing that I've got Billie's chin, my great-grandfather's nose, and my Mama Kay's face shape.  I'm looking at my grandfather's proud stance and wondering what aspects of his personality I've inherited.

Physical DNA aside, I love mulling over what I know about these people while at the same time, wishing, wishing, wishing that I knew their stories.  After all, these are the people who're responsible for my existence- as well as those of my children.  It seems fitting that I have a corner of my house set up for a few weeks to honor them.  

You all have a good night!