Detour: Houston, Texas

CHARLES, PUT SOME PANTS ON, THEY'RE HEEEEERE!

The brilliance above comes from my grandmother and was more or less the first thing my mom, sisters, and I heard upon arrival in Houston on Sunday. Words cannot express how genius I feel for the decision to go to Houston to see my grandparents and write unfettered by Austin things like friends and fun. Houston is a cesspool of sucky swampitude, but I have never been so focused in my life. Six medical articles written in a 24-hour period! (Do they give Pulitzers for raw productivity?) Plus, I continue to stomp on my former-picky-eater inner child, who never would have gone anywhere near my grandmother's corned beef and cabbage last night. Granted, the amount I ate would qualify as a drive-by at best, but I'm going to pat myself on the back anyway. As they say in Braincandy, it's the little things.

And speaking of the little things, I took a writing break yesterday to go to a neighborhood playground with Mom, Shannon, and Colleen -- and I ended up writing anyway. I couldn't help it. Our girls-only tetherball tournament was something to behold. And it is so awesome spending time with my sisters, who have been amazing people since day one, but are suddenly witty, beautiful teenage firecrackers. They were in diapers, faces caked in mushed plums and animal crackers just the other day, I swear!

SHANNON, 14, defacto tournament rule enforcer: "You can't touch the string, Colleen!"
COLLEEN, 12: "The string touched meeeee!"

SHANNON, three games later in the tournament: "You can't let the string touch you, Colleen!"

Colleen is my youngest sister, born when I was a senior in high school and statistically more likely to be my own daughter than my mother's, since Mom was 45 when she got pregnant for the fourth time (no drugs, just silly old nature!). Once at the Armadillo Christmas Bazaar in Austin in about 1996, a fellow shopper noted "Aw, how sweet, three generations!" That was all the abstinence education I needed.

My faux-daughter is sensitive and brilliant, a quiet writer/thinker type. And as is often the case with such kids, Colleen's also got some challenges -- namely dyslexia and major trouble with the motor skills most of us take for granted (and around which elementary school sadistically revolves -- jumping rope is like brain surgery for her and she uses scissors like NO ONE you've ever seen, trust me).

This is all background for my favorite tether ball moments, which always happen when my mom tries to encourage Colleen without blatantly playing favorites or making it seem like she thinks her youngest daughter is physically challenged (which she isn't, at least no more than her oldest sister, who stubs her toe on a daily basis). More classic moments from yesterday ...

MOM, watching Shannon kick her little sister's butt in 3 seconds flat: "It's OK to move your feet, Colleen!"

MOM, to me, trying to be politically correct and sports-based at the same time (and failing spectacularly): "We should give her some kind of head start, you know like in golf -- what do they call it?"
ME: "A handicap."
MOM: "Oh."

The reality is that all the women in my family (including my other sister Meg, who was missed, as she lives in North Carolina) are probably about equally skilled at tether ball. When a rubber grapefruit comes hurtling at our noses, we will yelp and try to block it.

I think I like Shannon's comment to Colleen the best: "YOU'RE JUST LOSING TO BE CUTE!"

Hee. Aren't we all?

LOVE & GUITARS,
Erin

P.S. -- Parting quote from my mom, who I love more than even I can say in words: "I heard you, I just didn't know it was something I was supposed to understand."