My Brother and his Girlfriend: An Outside Look

Before i begin I should start with saying that writing about my brother and his girlfriend is more dangerous than writing about my mother and my father. My parents, no matter how much my father works with computers and fixing them, the chances of them finding what I wrote about them is so much less of chance than my brother and his girlfriend. But, to be honest, I could care less. The fact is I writing about my brother and his girlfriend because I just had an amazingly fun night with them. It was nothing out of the ordinary. We watch a movie, and then made cookies. However within the time that the movie was done and cookies were being made, three pillow fights were started. Malcolm more’s song, “and we dance” was played along with Jessie’s girl multiple times. I don’t know how to explain what happened without simply doing a narrative, but I really feel like that wouldn’t explain it either. It wasn’t so much of what we were doing. (pillow fights are no stranger in our house.) But it was the way that they looked at each other. They way that we played and messed around it felt like family. Not like my family and his girlfriend. Maybe I’m saying too much. Too much, too fast? Hell I don’t even now how long they’ve been dating, but it’s under a year. I’m not doing a very good job of explaining what I witnessed tonight, am I? Lets see if I can explain it better…

At once point near the end of the third pillow fight, and right near the end of “and we danced” (about the fourth time it was played) we smelled the cookies. And I’m not talking about the warm good smell that cookies make that melt your hearts and soul. No. I’m talking about the horrible, these cookies are almost on fire, they are burnt so bad, smell. The smell that literally just makes your soul die because it was the last of our cookie batter. But it was at that moment that we dropped our pillows, and she (my brother girlfriend) ran to the kitchen. My brother for his part started to laugh. Then I followed. My mother was in the shower, (they would have never been burnt if she was out… nor would we have been playing Malcolm more if she was in the room). With my brother and I laughing, she looked at the cookies, and then at my brother. It was then I saw it in her eyes. My brother must have too because he took off running from the kitchen, he literally jumped over the couch (anther thing that would have never happened if my mother was in eye sight). Then out of nowhere the spatula flew from the kitchen and hit my brother. After the impact he turned and started running to her and they started play fighting. It was about that time that I decided to sit down and write about them. Because it was that look that she gave him, and the one he gave back right before he took off running. That look that so clearly said, this is your fault. You killed the cookies. You did it. I’m mad at you. But yet at the same time, no, I’m not mad, I’m completely happy. I’m having fun. And I love you.

It was that look that made me want to write this, because I can’t explain what was in it. But I know I want some one to look at me like that.

As a side note, as we are now, (mother back in from the shower) watching the show whip-out, they are (or were, because she is now not by him, in a attempt to make him say sorry) talking quietly. They are looking into each their eyes, and are so absorbed with their conversation; they don’t even see me watching them. At first I thought they were talking about something serious. They had to be, why else would they be so absorbed into the conversation. But now; listening I could only hear bits, but my brother finally looked up at me and asked, “meg, are Ewoks, the same thing as little critters, and can be compared to sock monkeys?”  The obvious answer is no.  For those of you that don’t know, (cant believe I’m explaining this) Ewoks are the little bears that kick ass in Stare Wars.  But back to my story; the answer is no; never. What are you thinking? You’re mental.  But I paused; because now I knew they were not talking about anything important. They were looking at each other like that because it didn’t mater what the topic was, they were just having a conversation together, and that was enough. In the few nano seconds of my pause I could see that she wanted me to side with her, and my brother wanted to side with him. I should have sided with her, made some sort of bond that left my brother out because that would just be funny, but no, I couldn’t. Ewoks are nothing like sock monkeys, and are not little critters. Those little bears kick ass, hence not critters. Regardless, I earned a laugh from brother and glare from his girlfriend. Then my brother made this night so much better and turned to her and said: “not only are you wrong about the Ewoks, but you burned the cookies too; what are we suppose to do with you.” There was nothing mean about this comment, and she knows this. But after that she stalked across the room and it sitting opposite of him. They are still playing this game, every once in while glaring at each other. It has become a battle of who can last longer. I would normally say my brother will win, but with this girlfriend, I just don’t know. But I am glad that I can be a witness. Like I said, maybe I’m saying too much too fast. But I like her. And I already consider her my family. Enough said.

Ps. While editing this, she gave in and went back to the couch. 

Marvels of my Mother

You know sometimes I marvel at my mother. I am so impressed and sometimes surprised at how strong she is. Growing up I always said I was going to make a lot of money. That I wanted a lot of money, as much as I love buying things, the real reason I wanted to be rich was because I wanted to live castle. I want to live a multimillion home, have a huge garden and library. A grand kitchen and ballroom. The older I get the more I want it and the more I realize that what everyone wants. Maybe not those exact thing, but we all want more. A bigger house, more money, maybe just some debts paid, one less credit care bill to worry about. My mother has never said what she wants. In the three homes that we have moved in to, never once does she complain about wanting more. At least not to her kids. My family rented homes for most of my life. But for as long as I can remember, my mother has treated every home that we have rented as her own. Painting the walls, redoing the bathroom in little ways that make it feel more like ours. My mother never asked for more; but by her actions, I am only just now realizing that she truly wanted so much more. Dreamt of so much more.

            We have just moved into our fourth home, and this one , my parents have bought. They are finally homeowners, and at the nineteen, I can see how much my parents love the feeling of fixing up this house and making it theirs; and actually having it be theirs. How it is more apparent now than ever, that while my mother is not asking for more, she wished she had more.; just like everyone else. She just doesn’t say it. And that why I am so impressed by her. She had dreams as kid. She was just like me once. Just starting out life and imagining how great it can be. Maybe she wanted castle. Maybe she wanted a white house by the beach. But instead she lived in homes that they only borrowed. Now that they own a home, half way through their lives, I can tell, not by here words, but her actions, that she feels trapped. That she wants more.

            The house is a great house, honestly. But I can see she feels restless. In every other house we had, we were borrowing it. (unlike how this one is permanent),by borrowing homes it meant  her dreams of more could still be met some day. However now that she owns a home that doesn't fit her dreams, living in her dream home, seem further away. She always did the best she could to give herself a garden. Mother like daughter, she wants a big garden too. She never said it but I can tell. And this house; it has no room for a garden, though she is trying.

For the first nineteen years of my life (I am almost 20) my parent have never owned their home, but they have a land in Pensacola, Florida. I never understood why they never sold it, we weren’t using it and at times we could have used the money, but while I would over hear them talking about, they never did. When we first bought the house, just few month ago, they said they would only be here about ten years, just enough to save money because the mortgage is less than our rent was. Then they said they were going to move again. They didn’t say where, but I’m old enough to understand now. They don’t want to live here. They never did. Their dreams did not have them here. It has them on their land in Florida. In a home they built themselves. That’s why they never sold their land, selling their land would be like selling their dream. but just like in the movie UP, referring to the dream of paradise falls, life got in the way.

            Despite having this dream, knowing that it will still be years before they get there, they live on and make the best of each situation they are in. And my mother continues to make every house, as close to the one she dreams about. Close, but never how she pictures it. And still she doesn’t complain or ask for more.

And that’s why I marvel at her. For that strength is something I don’t have. I think I would have given up on my dream along time ago. And she hasn’t, they haven’t, and that why I am so impressed, that for every house we get into, she starts all over again, trying to make it that much closer to the house she still dreams of, but doesn’t have.

love Fey

Getting started!

Hey!

So this is my first post, and I’m talking to no one, but something tells me that I will always be talking to no one, but that ok.

I guess what I first want to say is that I have no clue where this blog will go, (if it even does go anywhere)

My life is full. Literally. I am a full time student-athlete, a volunteer as a middle school church leader, and a part time worker. Add in schoolwork and the fact that I am writing a trilogy equals I have no time.

And yet, I still wanted to make a blog….

 My blogs might be about cool things I found, links, videos; I will probably end up putting my pictures on here. And I know I will end up ranting about life in general. But i will try my hardest to put up interesting things, but I'm not a very normal person, so my interesting things might just be weird, or even boring to you guys...but then maybe not.

As a note, my name is not Elizabeth Fey, and I will not use any of my friend/family names on here, but please do not think because I am changing the names that I will ever lie, because I won’t.

I believe that the written word should always be the truth, lies can slip from mouths without much thought, but they cannot be written without thinking.

Another note, I going apologize now, Editing is not my strong suite, nor will it ever be, so please bear with the mistakes.

            Love Fey