Ay dios mio!

So, I'm going to be an aunt. Again.

Yup, my eldest sis is preggers, which will bring her count up to three. My other sis just had her bebe, Charlie, and at three weeks old, he may be the cutest and most advanced boy I've ever seen (I swear to god he sighed "Oh yeah" as he was nursing the other day). Dennis and Emma, Misty's kids, are also suitably adorable.

In Oregon, and leaving for NY again on Sunday. Didn't realize just how much I missed the Northwest, but...surprise. I do. The trees and the clear air and the sheer awesomeness of Powell's Books. Hrm.

Also, my parents have really great cable. In honor of fall premieres, watch the season 2 opener of Friday Night Lights. Sigh over the cuteness of Matt and Julie. Relive the awkwardness of high school. Enjoy! http://www.tv.yahoo.com/falltv2007/friday-night-lights/show/38958/videos

Forgive me, fam ...

... but this is simply too good not to blog about.

My grandfather has decided, for reasons unknown, that he wants to be baptized. Which is cool, you know, I respect his decision, and he wants it done on our family property (through which the Tuolumne River runs), so I suspect it will be a rather beautiful occasion.

But he was talking about it with my mom (Grandpa: "Daughter, would you also like to be baptized?" Mother: "Hell no!"), and my stepdad, a former Mormon mucky muck of some repute, steps into the conversation. "You know, when I was in the church, I used to do that; maybe I could be of some help."

So now, my stepdad is officially baptizing my grandfather. As if I needed MORE to talk about in therapy.

Clothing the color of feces

So my brother-in-law (BIL) saw my pictures from Kila Raipur and decided to comment upon color and sartorial style. He writes:

Women need clothes that are unique, personal and to their taste, in a way that the dress becomes an extension of their personality. How can something so drab, like the universal bark-coloured trouser reflect the bewildering difference of nature between each woman's personality? Most men would be understandably content to dress in denim or khaki, but I think it's criminal to constrain women's fashion with such horrible colours in spite of the great design.

It's an interesting perspective, and undoubtedly one my colleagues at work share. (Upon my wearing a rose-colored kurta to office today, no fewer than five people exclaimed, "You're looking beautiful! Why don't you wear color more often? It is looking so nice on you!") But see, the thing is, I don't *see* my clothes as an extension of my personality. In fact, I see my clothes as almost an anti-personality: I use them to engender respectability and deflect from my youth and otherwise play games with the world at large.

I forgive the lovely BIL for imagining that women somehow require clothing to express their true natures any more than men do. I do, however, want to defend my countrywomen. I know we look boring and businesslike and we don't have any of the novelty and loveliness that Indian women really capture in their saris and silks and kurta pyjamas and dupattas, but our clothes can't be equated with our personalities. I once was at a function and there was a beautiful young girl who was wearing a glittering gold sweater, and I told her she looked quite nice; she responded, "It's sparkling, just like my personality!" I've never been able to be that forthright, and I've always admired the girl.

However, not all that glitters is gold; conversely, not all that is gold glitters. Or something.

9/11: Officially carbon neutral

Now, I'm not too political, but it's worth noting that more of my countrymen (and women) have died in Iraq (2,974, at last count) than did in the Sept. 11, 2001 (2,973), attacks. Does the number mean anything? Well, if you're trying to weigh it against the political justification for entering Iraq, one might say that the two had nothing to do with one another, and if you're trying to build an argument about the need for us to withdrawal, I might support you.

But if you're me, it means that your brothers (and some dudes you knew in high school) have been deployed to the Middle East about a half a dozen times in the past five years, and you're more than a little (selfishly) thankful that they are not among the bodycount.

I am allergic to being too serious, but this hits home. Luck doesn't last forever, and as much as my family jokes about the boys entrepreneurially selling sex toys to their comrades in the war against terror, it is pretty fucking frightening to have two people you really care about repeatedly risking their lives for a cause that is so....opaque. Here's to a hope that in the new year, a miraculous solution to this whole conundrum will be birthed from the soil, just as the baby Jesus was delivered to the Virgin Mary. Uhhh...totally.

(Insert slogan shouting ['Bring them home! No war for oil!'] and yellow ribbons here.)