The Name Game

But first, a quick re-cap:

Spring Break

• We spent the first three nights at my grandmother's house near Galveston. Highlights included rolling around in her bluebonnet-filled yard, strolling through one of TWO cemeteries(!) down the street from her house, eating entirely too much food, and taking Peach to see this. Quite wonderful, BTW. I also completely organized my cousin's nursery for her 3 month old twins. How can such little people have SO many clothes?


• We spent the next two nights at my cousin's new country house in Round Top. Highlights included rain, playing every board and card game known to man, rain, eating entirely too much food, cleaning up muddy dog prints, and, let's see, what else? Oh yes, rain.


• We spent the last three nights lounging about Casa de Bone, which was lovely. Highlights included my first SXSW event in forfrigginever with Karla May and T-Bone, getting Peach her first real haircut by someone other than my mom, prepping another huge ass flower bed in the front yard, and eating entirely too much food.

Which brings me to last night. My brother and SIL are expecting their first bambino next month, so I spent the better part of 6 hours yesterday putting together and organizing the nursery. What is it with me and the wee folks' rooms? Anywho, this is before:

And this is after:

Can't you just picture the lil' buckaroo snoozing in the crib? My SIL and I have similar taste, and she was very tolerant of my insistence that my nephew have a cowboy room. She was happy to put her swollen feet up for a while and let me go crazy, and she and my brother both were thrilled with the result. We're still shy the real bookcase and chest of drawers that are on the way, a twin bed for the tired mama, and a rug, but other than that, that girl is sufficiently nested.

In other news, they told us the baby's full name, and I am pleased to announce that my brother strayed away from the tradition in my dad's family of naming first born sons after their dads. My parents didn't fall for it either, and while being a "Jr." is not a bad thing necessarily, my dad's "people" don't call anybody "Jr.," they call them "Little," or, more accurately, "Lil." And thus, the dads are called, yes, "Big." My dad is one of five kids, so I have 17 first cousins, and here's just part of the roster: Big Johnny, Little Johnny, Big Dave, Little Dave, Big Mike, Little Mike, Big Robby, Little Robby, Big Tommy, and Little Tommy. And mind you, some of these Littles are over 40. Also, my grandmother had a brother called "Son." I grew up thinking his name was really "Sonny," but it was Joe. And his wife's name was PeeWee. And guess what - she wasn't.