gratias agimus vobis quod non fumatis.

today is christy jane stine's 50th birthday. i like her an awful lot. and in honor of today i have compiled a list of reasons why. (this list is in no way exhaustive or conclusive. im sure her husband, son, family and friends could add to it.)

1. she sings. all the freakin' time. she sings old hymns, songs from her youth (the monkees, anyone?), songs from everywhere. some of my favorite childhood memories include our long walks around Durham singing "Lord of the dance" or the peter, paul and mary songbook.

2. she makes stuff. cool stuff. for instance- diamonds. diamonds is a snake we made from my socks that had mysteriously lost their mate. mom made a mouth and i picked out tacky diamond buttons for the eyes. Diamonds is still around by the way. she also made cotillion dresses for her amazonian daughter.

3. she has never made me be anyone except lani. even when it would have been easier for both of us. when i was in elementary school i was damned and determined to wear a pinafore to school like the one alice wore in alice in wonderland. she let me. she also let me wear combat boots to vocal competitions-even after a oh, so helpful school teacher had suggested against it.

4. she read to me. every night. we read the chronicles of narnia. we read fairy tales. we read everything. but every night after zach was asleep we read.

5. she lets me cry. and she gives amazing hugs.

6. she gets excited about the little things. and is okay when you are also easily entertained.

7. she loves her 6th grade students and loves what she does for a living.

8. she loves my dad with a ferocity that frightens and wonders me all the same. her love for him is a high standard.

9. she is an amazing friend.

10. she has always prayed. before it was "cool" to pray. before there were books about being a "prayer warrior." she still keeps her journal beside her bed and prays for all of us.

11. she still has all of her joni mitchell records. she wants to grow her hair out again. and still feels bad about wasting water.

12. she threatened to run me over with her blue mini-van if she ever caught me smoking in high school. she would have. she still hits me whenever i casually confess the misdeeds of my mispent youth.

13. she's my mum. im her muppet. and thats all that really matter anyway.


for you mum...

Woke up, it was a chelsea morning, and the first thing that I heard
Was a song outside my window, and the traffic wrote the words
It came a-reeling up like christmas bells, and rapping up like pipes and drums
Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll wear it till the night comes
Woke up, it was a chelsea morning, and the first thing that I saw
Was the sun through yellow curtains, and a rainbow on the wall
Blue, red, green and gold to welcome you, crimson crystal beads to beckon
Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
There's a sun show every second
Now the curtain opens on a portrait of today
And the streets are paved with passersby
And pigeons fly
And papers lie
Waiting to blow away
Woke up, it was a chelsea morning, and the first thing that I knew
There was milk and toast and honey and a bowl of oranges, too
And the sun poured in like butterscotch and stuck to all my senses
Oh, won't you stay
We'll put on the day
And we'll talk in present tenses
When the curtain closes and the rainbow runs away
I will bring you incense owls by night
By candlelight
By jewel-light
If only you will stay
Pretty baby, won't you
Wake up, it's a chelsea morning