Nathalie's Notes

National Handwriting Day

It is crazy stupid what motivates me but last night I stayed up working until one a.m. because I wanted to be able to use my new calendar and track my work. I am stuck at outlining chapter six. I'm not sure if I'm stuck because I took a few days off to go to Walla Walla or if I'm really just stuck but either way I've got to figure it out and keep going because I want to be outlined through Chapter 13 by month's end. And you know I'll want to check off that little box on my January Goal Page!

Yesterday, according to my writer's calendar was "National Handwriting Day." Seeing that gave me a flashback to when I was at McCarver Elementary and learning cursive. My mom was in the hospital and Dad was trying to help us with our homework. It was a very frustrating night. Also, my dad did not make macaroni and cheese the Kraft way. Instead, he thought he was doing a good thing by making us a special dinner with baked mac and cheese. We did not appreciate his gourmet treatment and couldn't wait for Mom to get home. Not just 'cause of the cooking thing, though.

I had really sloppy handwriting. Or, I didn't care. Either way, Dad would check our homework before bed and if mine was really sloppy he'd tear it up and I'd be back to the drawing board. I guess it was worth it because I get compliments on my handwriting now. But damn.

A shout-out to Mean Mommies of the Planet

Did you hear about the mom in Iowa who sold her son's new car because he broke one of the rules: no alcohol in the car? When she found the booze in the car, she promptly placed an ad in the paper and sold it. The son, you'll be surprised to know, is not so happy about this and claims the bottle did not belong to him. Like that's not the oldest excuse in the book. I think my answer to Sam on that would be, "well, this will help you not be the kid who's parents are so cool they use you to help them get away with things."

It's hard to face the fact that someday I'll have to throw my hat in the running for "Meanest Mom on the Planet" but I respect women like Jane Hambleton who are paving the way. And, I suppose, a medal should be sent to my own mother in place of the "I hate yous!!!" from my teenager years. I'm hoping that turning out to be a decent human being was worth the tantrums she put up with but I'm sure I won't know exactly what it felt like until little Sam Man turns on me.

One of my mom's ingenious moves that I admired even at the time, but naturally, couldn't admit was when she totally beat me at my own game.

I was in college and home for the summer. I was old enough to smoke and did. A lot. Against my parents wishes and despite the articles helpfully left on my desk highlighting the dangers of smoking. It was a constant battle. In retrospect I realize that I even picked fights for an excuse to storm out of the house and have the cigarette I was jonesing for. Sometimes I would offer to walk the dog, who I was not particularly attached to. I would be half way down the drive way when my mom would come out, give me a knowing look and suggest I take the leash. And the dog.

So after a couple weeks of this disharmony my mom finally decided Bastante! {enough}

I came home from work to find a newly installed closet rod on wheels. In the garage. With all of my clothes carefully hung on it. Hmm.

"Um. Mom?"

"Yes, Natashka?"

"All my clothes are in the garage?"

"Oh, yes. Well, I decided you're right. You can smoke if you want to; I can't stop you. But I don't have to let your stinky habit into my house. And, since your clothes all stink, and your room is located in our house, you can change here in the garage where things can air out a little better. Also, you can't smoke on our property so you'll have to park the car across the street."

Score one for Team Parent. I stopped smoking. At least for that summer. And eventually completely 'cause she was right it does stink.

for mami

You were meant to be my mother.

i wish i'd known then

that i would feel this way today.

maybe it would've been easier between us.

but maybe if it had, i wouldn't feel

so grateful for our relationship now.

i wish i could say we always got along.

i wish i could look back without regrets.

for all the times you drove to pick me up

when i couldn't sleep at the slumber party i was at.

for all the times you packed a healthy lunch

for the hours you spent arguing with me in

various dressing rooms teaching me taste and style

for the patience and consistency it took to teach me

the manners which give me confidence today to enter any situation

with grace and ease.

for the times you let me fail so i could learn

and for the times you stayed up late

to help me meet my goals.

for understanding when my heart was broken

and for promising it would heal.

for every time you turned down my bed

to welcome me home.

for the countless paperwork you did

to enroll me in camps, lessons and classes

and for driving me to the library

for teaching me to return my books on time.

for letting me go to grow into my own person

for loving me with all my hair colors

and also for paying to strip my hair

when i came to and saw goth was not a good look for me

for teaching me to be kind - to write thank you notes

and to ask for what i want - for teaching me

to give my time to help people - to smile at

strangers and to see beyond the surface of people

i know i will continue to realize more things

i learned from you for the rest of my life but

for now i want to thank you

for all that and more.

you were meant to be my mother

because there could be no other

who knows and loves me the way you do.

Christmas Past (part 3)

1989: Mazatlan - you have no idea how cool i felt in this outfit. And many happy memories of playing in the ocean in Mexico.

1990: Sunriver - another place full of happy  memories with the Borbeks, and especially Mel. This was the start of a particularly awkward phase as the mushroom do gave way to something far more hideous.

1991: Finding us on the slopes in the winter was pretty common. Especially on Sundays. I remember asking dad why it was okay to miss church in the winter. We were riding on the chairlift and he stretched his arms out and asked, "Can you imagine being closer to God than this?"

Christmas Past (part 2)

1984: Tacoma waterfront ... many memories of us walking, biking and eating at at the waterfront. Enjoying the view and the Tacoma Aroma.

1985: Cascades - Rainier probably. In our pseudo-twin outfits. Definitely represents my childhood. Also the mushroom hair cut was a staple.

1988: Cascades - are you getting the twin theme? We did a lot of hiking ... I'd forgotten about that.

Christmas Past

Every year I want to write a witty, newsy Christmas letter - and I swear one of these years I will (followed by a blog post in defense of the Christmas letter that so many folks think is cheesy and boring - I, for the record, LOVE to receive and read them). But instead, I'm scrambling at the last minute to get my cards out. In keeping with the Oravetz family tradition, I usually pick a picture representing a highlight from the year and send a photo card because I love, love, love getting those in the mail as well. This year, however, I am a total slacker - or nothing that interesting happened this year (?!) and at the last minute dug out a picture from six years ago and used that since it's one of my most favorite pictures of us, and then added a picture of Little Lucy because she is certainly a highlight! Going through the motions of putting the cards out, I realized how much a part of this time of year it is for me. So much so that even though I'm doing no tree, no decorating and no baking, the cards are still going out. They might be Happy New Years cards, but I'm still doing it. It's one way to say, even though we don't talk as much as we should, or see each other near enough, I love and care about you and am glad you're in our life.

Here's a little trip down Oravetz Family Memory Lane:

1980: Taken at the Tacoma Lawn Tennis Club - very representative of where we spent our summer days.

1981: Le Snack Cafe Espresso - our restaurant. Also very representative of where we spent a lot of our time. I do NOT know how my mom handled two little kids, a restaurant, a home and still put delicious meals on the table three times a day. My dad was working full-time as an anesthesiologist, on-call. Good times.

Singing out

This is the little boy who surprised his uncle and everyone else riding on the electricka in Bratislava one morning in the early 80s, by spontaneously belting out the United States National Anthem during a time of heavy communism and anti-American sentiment.

What possessed him that morning, we'll never know. But, the fact that it happend is no surprise. He's always been a kid who pushed boundaries. A person with courage and confidence in the Truth.

Keep believing in yourself, bro.

The question isn’t who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me. – Ayn Rand

Vesele Vianoce

So maybe 300 words a day, every day, was a little drastic. This chunk of the story is nearly finished. I have the begining, middle and end and just need to work out some transitions, come up with a title and do some heavy editing. My goal is to at least edit the draft over the weekend.

My last post until after Christmas - so a Vesele Vianoce to you! The photo on the left, in addition to featuring my super cool rainbow belt - captures one of many Slovak Christmas traditions I will miss this year - the sparklers on the tree. Matt being the practical American doesn't believe that we actually put lit sparklers on our tree but here is proof. Sure, it's a fire hazard, but oh! the memories!

Christmas Memories

When my parents moved, they gave me boxes of old family photos knowing I would keep them safe, as well as treasure them - this morning I came by a few that got me tripping down Memory Lane. I love the peripheal details in all these photos. I forgot exactly what certain rooms looked like. Seeing pieces of furniture peeking out in the background of pictures takes me back to other memories. I love that I have the butcher block from our old kitchen and the dishes we used for our holiday and special meals - and this tablecloth would be on the table downstairs as I type this if our dining table wasn't on display at Matt's booth!

Here's my dad sampling sauce - putting his stamp of approval on the meal mom spent all day making - I am really sad I'm not going to get to eat this the Oravetz Christmas meal this year, carp soup and all!

A brother's love

One of my favorite Christmas memories came back to me at school the other day as I overheard kids discussing gifts they were buying their siblings.

I remember my brother, Martin, walked to the store, PayLess or something, and was there for a very long time before coming home with what he said was "just the right gift." He was very pleased with himself.

On Christmas Eve, after Jezisko came and the Angel rang the bell for us to come out of hiding - because only my parents were allowed to see the Baby Jesus - we exchanged gifts. I was thrilled to open the package of a dozen coordinating lipstick and nail polish colors. Martin shook his head, shrugged and said, "I looked everywhere and couldn't find the little brush things you use to put the polish on."

Sadly, in exchange for his thoughtful gift, I think that was the year we watched In Living Colour a lot and I got him a "Homey the Clown" shirt and thought he'd like it. Not so much.