off the hook in a totally different way

This evening when I called home I was met by an unusually chatty father. Those familiar with good old Dr. Bill know that "chatty" is one of the last adjectives most anyone would use to describe my father. In fact, I have found he is at his most animated only when describing television shows. I particularly treasure the time he was telling me about an episode of Friends. He seriously hopped from side to side, changing the tone of his voice, acting out the dialogue. It was hilarious. (Hot cocktail party tip: Nowadays he's equally enthusiastic when relating plot lines from The Big Bang Theory...)

Anyway, I always find it a joy to catch my dad in a good mood. Tonight it was because he was working on the family Christmas letter. I know, I know, we were all looking forward to a good old humdinger this year. Though my Dad's efforts will be different than my own, I am happy to be fired. After Billy successfully lobbied to be treated with kid gloves, I found myself dragging my feet getting started. Having never taken well to restriction, even if it is humane and completely understandable, I was virtually uninspired. (I did, at least, pass along the few tidbits I had managed to come up with so far...)

Besides sharing with me his rough draft of the letter, my Dad encouraged me to Tivo a television show (surprised?) and then he passed me off to Mom like a hot potato. It was here that I met with my other chuckle of the evening. It seems that our beloved matriarch, Margaret, does not approve of my plans to attend law school in the fall. She thinks I should have babies instead.

Babies, don't get me wrong, are perfectly fine and wonderful. I know the majority of you have taken the time to have them. And I certainly like babies well enough. I particularly enjoy corrupting them as they get older - you know, teaching them fart jokes and such. But as for having my own, well, it's just not going to happen.

For one thing, I am a horrible mother. Just ask my cats. I send mixed signals all the time. I reward bad behavior. Sometimes I neglect to meet their basic needs, refusing to feed them as required (okay, maybe for just ten minutes or so, as I try to feign sleep - but ten minutes is like a lifetime in cat years...). And besides, becoming a mother would force me to be the grown up. I know, becoming a lawyer is relatively grown up, too, but I dare say it's not as demanding as motherhood.

Besides all that, my eggs are old. I just turned 37. Cooking up my ovum would just be asking for trouble. I don't even like eating chicken eggs when they are past the date on the box. I'm pretty sure my ovaries have a stamp somewhere saying "Best when used before 2001."

Even if I wanted to gamble on the quality of my genes, if I were to get pregnant these days I'd probly end up divorced because, well, it would mean I'd been cheating on my man. Yep, don't tell Margaret, but my hubby's been snipped.

So I guess it is off to law school I go. I am actually getting pretty excited by the reality of it since my recent acceptance by Berkeley. Now I don't have to live in the snow unless I want to. And if I want to it will be because I got in to one of my super fancy reach schools. If that happens, I imagine I won't even notice the snow during my first year because I will still be walking on air. As it is, I can barely wipe the Berkeley grin off my face long enough to tell my stupid stray cat how mad I am he peed on my bed. Doing better than Berkeley, I think I'd be delirious.

It's just too bad to know I haven't got Margaret praying up my Harvard hopes, she's so close with the big Guy and all... But this way I guess I will know I got in on my merits.

I'll keep you all posted...

off the hook

First of all, I am thrilled not to be the only cousin posting on this blog. Not only does it feel less lonely, but it's been simply precious to share in such well crafted and hilarious stories... I've been wanting to answer back with a jaw-dropper of my own (detailing the time my Dad was freaking out having to drive Granddad's Cadillac while totally stoned), but I've got to do some fact checking. I always thought the chronic was supplied by his brother John, but my Mom swears it was my other Uncle John... (Don't tell Margaret...) Oh, and Sis, kudos are totally fine. This blog is whatever we want it to be. And I am also proud that Margaret had a chance to play such a positive role in this historic election...

I am also happy to report that our brother has managed to avoid going to jail for his recent bout of bipolar bad behavior. I'd been waiting to post updates until I knew everything was settled, and now, as of his court date this past Monday, it seems it is. His lawyer convinced the judge to drop all the charges (new and old) so long as Billy stays out of trouble for 90 days. I believe this makes his goal Sunday February 15th, though Billy wisely recognized he really needs to be on good behavior for life - or at least for two years, the length of his original probationary period. I am excited for Billy that he's not in jail, but I'm excited for me that I finally have a chance to add a countdown to this site. A countdown, some may recall, was a planned feature of the original "Don't Tell Margaret." At the time we were going to count down Marybeth's remaining days of living in sin. Billy's days of living without sin seems like a suitable substitute.

Billy's Good Behavior Countdown will end just a week after my planned visit north for the Aquarius birthday season. With Billy & Grace sharing a birthday on January 28th and Mom turning 65 on February 4th, it's a logical enough time to take a trip, but, in truth, I've never made a habit out of visiting during their birthday season. This year my presence is required as Grace has been planning her 5th birthday party for, oh, 8 months now. She's holding it at a bounce house where even grown-ups can bounce, so you know I'm all for that.

Grace has made an additional special request. She wants to have, "a sleep-over, at my house, with my cousins, and with you and Uncle Kevin - just like when I was 3!" I must say, that was quite a bash we had. It started out like any normal slumber party. We watched movies, ate pizza and made art & crafts (involving lots of scissors - those cousins just love scissors). Then it got a little frenzied. We made a huge mess thanks in small part to the apparently disposable pom-poms (which shed worse than Suzanne's menagerie of cats) and in large part to Madisyn (who decided to move everything from Grace's room in to the hallway). Later we read tons of books - potty training books (for Grace) and bedtime stories (five in total - one for each of us). We didn't read enough bedtime stories, it turns out, cuz the bedtime part didn't stick. We soon found ourselves out in the living room, dancing a jig to the tunes on Kevin's ipod, avoiding smashing in to Grace's worldly belongings, until we crashed out sometime after midnight. (Somewhere in between, of course, we had the whole "boo boo cream debacle" which I already blogged about here.)

So it's no surprise that Grace is looking for a repeat of such a legendary evening. Only now we're going to try to convince her to host it at the Great Wolf Lodge, this cool hotel / waterpark where we're planning to stay. We're also hoping to convince Savannah and Maddie that this is a superior alternative to replace their recently cancelled trip to Disneyland. Grandpa TT (as they call him) was going to take them there for New Year's, but it's been a bit of an expensive year (with all the car smashing and whatnot) and he's already making a trip to California (right now, in fact), so he's not really feeling the whole Disney thing. Billy hasn't broken the news to the girls yet but I suggested it's all in the way he frames it. Act excited about the alternative and they will be too. Act disappointed and betrayed and that's exactly how they'll feel as well. Here's hoping they're let down easy...

And, since my folks are in route and due to arrive tomorrow, I suppose I should get back to (or, erm, actually start) cleaning my house. At least procrastination always brings me back to the blogging world.

But before I go, happy belated birthday, Sis. Looks like yesterday was just peachy.

It's 4:28am the morning after a historical election where Americans made a choice for CHANGE and I am so PROUD of Margaret, who, at 93 yrs old, made it to the polls and cast her vote for Barack Obama...She's lived through good times and bad times in this country.. she's seen more than any of us.. and today she voted for the candidate that most of her family opposed.. (except for us radical liberal west-coasters)...and i think that's amazing! (jenni, i know this blog is not for kudos but i wanted to give her some kudos tonight!)

Invisible Ink

First, let me start by saying I'm thrilled to have married into such a large, wonderful, conservative, Irish-Catholic family. I'm also reassured (and more than a little bit relieved) that I am not the only one to have a few bones laying around, just begging for the doggie to drag out.

As I'm sure you all may know, I came into this family with not just a carry on . . . I brought a full array of fancy-pancy luggage. Let's see . . . I lived-in-sin and had not one, but two children out of wedlock. There's the crazy ex, an evil step-mother the likes of which Disney could not even conjure up, and an Irish/Italian mom (no further explanation there). Lastly, I have, as my mom would say, "a sick appreciation for art" . . . Body art that is.

Now, before you all jump to conclusions . . . I do not have a copy of a 70's Rolling Stones cover running down the length of my arms. I do, however, have a very pretty sunset (designed by yours truly) with a few scattered birds in flight. Very tasteful. The birds represent loved ones I have lost that have had a profound impact on my life. The tatoo is a reminder for me of just how precious life is, how short it can be, and how I have to live my life to the fullest.

That being said, my symbolic body art was for me, so I had it placed where, really, it's only seen if I'm wearing a bathing suit. The very last person I ever wanted to find out about it was my very loving, but ultra-conservative mother-in-law. Now, I know she would not disown me for my love of art. Afterall, I do love her David very much. However, I was sure she wouldn't be jumping through any hoops to have a look-see either.

Now, it just so happens, I do go to the beach from time to time. Many of these moments are spent with my new family. I can't say I ever really worried about any of my hubby's siblings (or spouses) freaking out over my tatoo. But someone, and I am not sure who, let the proverbial cat out of the bag. I never mentioned I didn't want mom to know . . . I just assumed we were all on the same page. (wink-wink)

So one bright, beautiful morning at the bike shop a young lady came walking by. It wasn't until she passed us, going up the ramp to the boardwalk, that we all took notice that she was covered in tatoos. I kind of felt a little ashamed, considering my little secret (which I thought was kept in the "circle of siblings"). It was then, a voice came rising up from behind me, "Look, that's going to be Debbie in a couple of years!" You guessed it! It was mom!

Now, looking back on that moment I just laugh. Mom knew . . . My little secret was out. I could now stop fretting over how to pull off a "retro" bathing suit and just be myself. To mom's credit, she never brings up my tatoo. I guess she just wanted me to know that she knew. That, and the fact that she also knew how much I do love her David. I love him so much, in fact, that I decided to get another piece of art to commemorate it.

So now, no more secrets. I feel loved and accepted into this wonderful family. In return, I love each and every one of them. Just the other day Mare-bear (Marybeth) gave me a great big hug and said, "Thank you for loving my brother." Of course, that goes without saying. I have waited a long time for David. I have honestly loved him since I was 19 years old. So, I gave her a great big hug back and said just that. Then I gave her a wink and said, "I had better love your brother, I have his name tatooed where only his eyes can see." Just don't tell Aunt Kathy!!!!!

Grandmom

And here's a photo of the Thomas Matriarch-

Margaret Ink

Thought I would post a photo of the tribute to Margaret inked by Melanie Nead of Icon Tattoo in Portland, Oregon. If only Kevin wore wife beaters.. we'd be able to see it more often!

Don't Trust Anyone Over 30

Okay, first a disclaimer. I'm putting my full trust in the confidentiality of Don't Tell Margaret. I don't mind all the cuzin's out there hearing some dirt. But if the information contained in the following post ever got out among the assorted Aunts and Uncles, well, lets just say I'd deny everything, blame it all on Jenni, and head for some secluded island where I could earn my living playing happy hours under my new stage name, Master Davidson.

In my family, we've always had a no snitching policy among the siblings. This is a major problem on the streets of Philadelphia these days (my east coast readers should get the reference), but it's always served us siblings well. In fact, in all these years, not one of the four of us has ever violated the pact. Not to my knowledge, anyway.

As a teenager, I believe I benefitted the most from our no snitching pact. Ann was already older and on her own, Ed pretty much did whatever he wanted to anyway, and Mare was still a baby and years away from any kind of shenanigans. So that left little ole' me, 14 going on 40 and up to my eyeballs in all things trouble.

Which brings me to our family vacation to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, in the fall of 1982. Ann was going to college at The Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale (located on the beach on the bottom floor of the Holiday Inn! It's true, you can ask her), and my Mom and Dad decided to visit for a few days. They were probably worried sick about Ann's living situation and wanted to see for themselves what she had gotten herself into. Of course, this is only speculation on my part. My parents never revealed their true motivation for our vacation destination.

Anyway, our traveling party consisted of me, Mom, Dad, and Marybeth, who was only about 17 months old at the time. Ed was 17 and stayed home to have a party on Palm Road (but you didn't hear that from me - remember, no snitching). So there I was, a teenager stuck in a hotel room with his parents and his baby sister. Needless to say, I was restless and bored, not to mention suffering from nicotine fits as I had taken up smoking the year before. I was desperate for a little freedom and looking for any excuse to break away from the pack. I found the perfect opportunity one night when my parents were dropping Ann off at her apartment after dinner.

"Please Mom, please can I stay at Ann's tonight" I begged. "I don't want to stay at the hotel. The bed's not comfortable and Marybeth wakes me up in the morning and Dad snores and I'd love to catch up with Ann some more and ..." or some such shit. I really don't remember what I said to convince my parents it was a good idea to stay at Ann's that night. All I know is that Ann (God bless her) said it would be alright with her, and my parents relented and agreed. And this is where the story gets good...

Surprise # 1 - Ann did not live alone. My parents had come in briefly to see Ann's apartment before returning to the hotel. This is when I did all my begging and pleading. When they finally left, to my utter astonishment, a man jumped out of the bath tub screaming "What the fuck!!". It turns out that Ann was living with her boyfriend, Tim (who later became her first husband), and had neglected to tell anyone. When Tim heard all of us coming down the hall, he panicked and jumped into the bath tub to hide. Everything was cool, though. Tim turned out to be an awesome guy, he offered me a beer and a cigarette, and I thought "Thank God I escaped the prison that was a hotel room with Mom and Dad!".

Surprise # 2 - Ann was expecting company. We were hanging out for about an hour, drinking beer, talking, and listening to music, when we heard a knock at the door. Tim seemed excited, jumping up saying, "There he is!". Ann went to answer the door, and a moment later came walking into the living room with - wait for it - Uncle John Thomas! (I'll pause a moment to allow you to pick up your jaw from the ground .......okay) It turns out that Uncle John had been in Fort Lauderdale for about a week at a convention for Scott's Paper and had hung out with Ann and Tim the previous few nights. They made plans to hang out that night, too, but they hadn't counted on a certain 14 year old kid crashing the party.

Needless to say, Uncle John acted weird when he saw me. He didn't really know what to do or say, and the first fifteen or so minutes that he was there were awkward, to say the least. There was a lot of eye contact and hand gestures between Ann and Uncle John when they thought I wasn't looking, and I could hear hushed whispering between them all when I went to the kitchen for another beer. Ann was the one to finally break the tension. "This is ridiculous", she said out loud, "I'm telling you, he's cool". Uncle John looked skeptical. "Are you sure?", he asked, and I could tell he was nervous. "Trust me, he's cool". And before I knew it, Uncle John pulled out a big bag of weed and started to roll a joint on the coffee table.

What a fun night. After we smoked a couple joints, Uncle John loosened up immensely. He was actually very cool to hang out with. Warm, funny, engaging, he didn't treat me like a kid at all, which meant alot to me. The night ended with handshakes and hugs and promises to keep this night just between us. I left Fort Lauderdale with the impression that me and Uncle John had a new understanding, that our relationship had somehow reached a different level.
Boy, was I wrong.

The next time I saw Uncle John was about a year later. We came to Prospect Park to visit Grandmom and Grandpop (big Bill was still alive then), and Uncle John came by the house. I knew something was wrong right away, just by the way he acted around me. It was the same way he acted in Florida when he first arrived; nervous, cagey, unsure. I wanted to reassure him, to put him at ease, to promise him once and for all that I wouldn't tell Margaret. I waited until he went out to the garage by himself, and I followed him out. "Uncle John", I began, "about that night in Florida....". That was as far as I got. He turned around, grabbed me by my shirt, threw me up against the wall of the garage, and got right in my face. "Listen, you little shit. There was no night in Florida! Got it? Never happened. And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, I'll find you and kick the shit out of you!".

Well, I never did breathe a word to anyone. Until now. My relationship with Uncle John was never the same. He tried more than once since I became an adult to warm up to me, but the damage was done. I can forgive, but I'll never forget. Years later, at Jimmy O'Malley's wedding, in fact, I was standing at the bar with Ann, Ed, cuzin' Marty, Uncle Mike, and Uncle John, when Uncle John himself told the story of that fateful night in Florida. When he was finished, Ed and Marty both said in unison, "I never knew that". Uncle John looked at Mike, and he just shrugged his shoulders. "I never knew that either". Uncle John was incredulous. He leaned into me and said, "So you really never told anyone?" I simply said, "No", and walked away. I wanted to say, "No asshole, I can keep a secret. Didn't Ann tell you I was cool?", but I didn't. I had learned my lesson from this a long time before. Sometimes, a 14 year old kid is more trustworthy than a 30-something adult.

christmas in october

Okay, so I previously mentioned that my family has some juicy stuff going on that will have to wait for the Christmas letter. It's just, if I'm really hoping all of you will share the good dirt, it feels hypocritical to hold back on my own. So here goes...

Perhaps you've already surmised from our newest poll that one of my siblings was recently in jail. Poor Bad Boy Billy, my bipolar brother, was in the pokey - again. His adventures with the authorities began a mere four months ago when he inadvertently went off his meds for a number of weeks. This oversight didn't come to light until the month ended and his bottle of Abilify was strangely still full... Anyway, he was ultimately hauled away in handcuffs for smashing his work truck into his family van - something he did to punctuate the end of a marital spat. It turns out it is a felony to significantly damage your own property (who knew?) but the felony charges were ultimately dropped and he was excused with probation and a course in anger management.

So he quickly got back on his meds, started going to his classes (having our dad help him with his homework - just like in school - Dad liked to joke that having to do Billy's anger management homework was making him angry...), and everything was fine and dandy. Or so we thought. We've heard since that he had confided in friends that his meds weren't exactly doing the trick anymore. He finally shared this with his doctor on Thursday and his doctor upped his dosage and recommended a bit of R&R in the loony bin. Well, before he had a chance to check himself in, Billy got sidetracked and angry and, well, downright scary and so he ended up in the back of a police cruiser again.

I haven't talked to my brother yet (he just got out last night), but if he had any advice to offer any of his potentially felonious cousins, I'm pretty sure he would recommend that you avoid getting arrested on a Friday. Had he been taken in on Thursday night he could've been arraigned Friday. Instead he had to wait until Monday. Hopefully he got plenty of rest at least...

My husband, who works with the criminally insane, offers one more piece of advice - taken straight from the mouths of his patients. If you're going to be both crazy and criminal, it's best to move around a lot. Accumulating a lot of charges in one state is way worse that collecting various charges in a number of states. They would know. That's how they all ended up under court ordered hospitalization. Somehow, though, I don't see Bad Boy Billy pulling up his roots and relocating so I must say I'm more than a wee bit worried for his future.

But for now we're back to normal. Sounds like the charges were dismissed, though he was already on probation so I'm not sure how that works...

In the meanwhile, it seems like we may soon see our first east coast bloggers. I've just got to send out an instructional email and wait and see. Exciting times.

don't tell aunt kathy...

Okay, clearly this whole Don't Tell Margaret thing is off to a slow start. But that's okay. I'm not giving up. I understand. I barely find time to maintain my own blog, and I have all the time in the world. And I recognize that not every family was raised to over-share as my own family does. Further, I totally get it that certain things just should not be broadcast over the internets. Right now, my own clan is weathering a bit of a juicy crisis, but it will just have to wait for the Christmas letter. Even there I will have to choose my words carefully. Talking to my mom, I told her I was begged to leave this particular topic out of the letter, and she responded adamantly, "Oh, no, it's going in the Christmas letter, all right!"

Anyway, I can't wait until the day I discover the first post from the East Coast. In the meanwhile, perhaps I can entice you with some appalling evidence about just how under informed your West Coast cousins are.

For instance, though I knew that Aunt Mary's recently had back surgery, I had no idea that Aunt Jane's been fighting thyroid cancer - that is, until my parents decided to mention her recent efforts to address her brain aneurysm. This, of course, I also knew nothing about. I figured she got all of her health troubles out of the way with her whole breast cancer thingy. And even that I scarcely followed, I just know it was more of a duct issue than a classic tumor situation. I feel particularly bad I am so behind on the details as I've become a bit breast-centric myself, having just recently joined the ranks of the mammogrammed.

Anyway, thanks in part to Aunt Mary's incapacitation, it seems that Aunt Kathy has been spending more time taking care of our beloved matriarch, Margaret. This is where today's story begins.

As most of you know, my dad is the family Democrat. I know, it's kind of strange, as so many Catholics remain staunchly Republican if for no other reason than that whole pesky abortion angle. But my dad, he's very good at compartmentalizing. So it works for him. And frankly, it works for me. I have not been bitten by the political bug like my dad and my brother (who mock me for my very loose association with current events), but I went to Berkeley. I love myself a good liberal.

So, of course, this is a very exciting time around the Thomas household. If my dad and Kevin could will Obama into office using their very large brains they would totally do it. In fact, I sort of think they believe they can, cuz trying to talk to them about anything else is pointless these days.

What you might not realize is that Margaret herself is actually an Obama fan. I know. Shocking, right? Except it's not shocking to me at all cuz I swear I once interviewed Margaret (18 years ago when I was an undergrad) about her opinions on women's rights and, specifically, about abortion. I was surprised then to find that she was more than a wee bit pro-choice. My dad insists I must be wrong about my recollection or that she must have misheard the questions, but I swear to you it was very clear at the time. Perhaps my dad got his compartmentalizing skills from Margaret? Besides, even if Margaret totally openly embraced abortion, I'm sure God would forgive her. She's totally on his good side. Anyway, I suspect the truth is that my survey questions were inherently flawed. I'm pretty sure they were structured in such a way that you either had to answer pro-choicedly or come off sounding like a total douche bag.

Whatever.

So, as the story goes, my dad recently mailed his mom a photo of Obama. When he called her (as he does, I think, practically every night), he asked her if she'd received it yet. She was, it turns out, in the presence of Aunt Kathy. Not wanting to upset her daughter, Margaret answered that, yes, she had gotten it, but she, "had to H-I-D-E it." Um, don't tell Margaret, but I'm pretty sure Aunt Kathy can spell. And if she can't spell, well, then don't tell Aunty Kathy, but Margaret's voting for Obama.

i confess

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been nearly two decades since my last confession. Covering all that ground could really take a while so I'll just stick to the highlights.

I totally corrupted my little brother. I taught him curse words when he was a toddler, got him stoned before he turned 12, convinced him to bite a soap fish in a store for a dollar (which he promptly had to use to buy a soda to wash the taste town), and I once recruited him to help me steal a McDonald's Teenie Beanie Baby from a thrift store.

I do not think there are enough Hail Marys in the world to save me.

I also totally plan to lie about my weight when I renew my driver's license and passport.

If you've got something you want to get off your chest, but you don't want us to know which cousin you are, feel free to log in to our fancy new anonymous gmail account. It's "donttellmargaret@gmail.com" (of course) and I'll send you the password if you email me.

Too tired to think of a good title...

Hey cousins!

Well it's 5AM and I have been at work for 11 hours... finishing up 5 of 6 work nights in a row.. my shift, when I return tonight, will be my last one for 19 whole days! It's vacation time at last... It's been a relatively slow night so I just checked my email and saw what my sis has been up to.. I really hope you East coast cousins participate! I feel detached from everyone these days and would love to read about any cool or mundane stuff that is going on in your lives.. I unfortunately have few memories of the "Don't Tell Margaret Night" in that lovely Center City Philly Holiday Inn- I believe I missed out since I retired early because I wasn't in the mood for drinking..Oh well.

I think that trip was the last time I was out East..And it was the same visit where my sister accused me (and still does) of dragging her on a 'Death March'. I remember it was really hot and we walked down to South Street for some Philly cheesesteaks. There was supposed to be a big purple tourist bus that was free (or cheap) that I planned on taking back to our hotel.. but we never saw it.. even though I thought it ran 7 days a week ..Erik had Grace on his back for the trek and wasn't happy about it. They still don't believe that I didn't intend for us to walk so far.. but I never saw a cab and that purple bus was nowhere to be found. I also remember visiting the Liberty Bell and I have a picture of Cousin Bob sharing gelato with Grace. Sadly, I can't remember if these memories are from the same day or not! (Nanny's alzheimers or sleep deprivation?... time will tell)

Next week Grace and I will be touching down again in the City of Brotherly Love...(can't wait to eat an authentic Philadelphia pretzel!).. I am excited that we will get to see Margaret again. I was worried her 90th Bday would be the last time- and she proved me wrong. I am happy she will get to know Grace as a kid instead of a baby. Because Grace is a pretty cool kid..

Our time in PA will be limited however as we are jetting off to visit NYC and then London! You may think "wow, that must be nice" but I have only ever stayed overnight in NYC once when I was a teen and stayed in the hotel where Sid Vicious killed his girlfriend Nancy. I remember the cockroaches all over the walls scurry when the lights were turned on. This time I am staying 4 nights in a decent (hopefully) apartment on the Upper East Side near Central Park and will be spending quality time with my oldest, dearest friend Sheila (who happens to also be Cousin Bob's sweetie).. And I haven't been to London in 19 years.. The London part of this trip came recently when I decided it would be worth it to see a favorite musician perform there.. The timing was right- I am already on vacation and halfway to London.. Of course the musician (Kimya Dawson) lives in Olympia, Wa (yes, a mere 40 min away) but to me this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. So we are going to spend 4 nights in London and go to the London Zoo, the London Eye, go on a double decker bus tour, check out the Camden Markets and see Kimya Dawson perform. Needless to say, I am EXCITED!!!

Well my replacement will be here in minutes so I better sign off....

xoxo
Cousin Suz

better late than never?

Greetings, cousins.

I'm sure you all recall our beloved matriarch's 90th birthday party? But only the precious few who made it to the after party will recognize this blog's name. For it was there, in the Philadelphia Holiday Inn, that the idea for Don't Tell Margaret was born.

At its inception, Don't Tell Margaret was meant to be an elaborate private website with various password protections (to keep the parents out) and festive graphics (such as the widget that would count down the number of days of living in sin Mary Beth had left before her wedding). It was meant to be a clearinghouse for all sorts of cousinly information - complete with family tree, favorite quotes, and a private confessional. What fun is it, after all, to be part of such an entertaining extended family if you don't have a forum for sharing your secrets?

Though my enthusiasm for the idea never faded (I even bought the domain name right away), as it turns out I don't actually know how to build a website, at least not one worthy of not telling Margaret about... Never one to be deterred by a lack of talent, I held on to my dream. In fact, I still have the original plans - though some are simply illegible thanks to all the wine we were drinking - and thus, when I stumbled across the team blog feature this evening (while actively avoiding my law school applications) I said to myself, "aha," or, more in tune with that fateful evening, "aarrrgggghh!"

I do hope you'll join me in posting here. All matter of content is more than welcome. As your far off California cousin, I feel particularly removed from your everyday affairs...

Seems like, as the administrator, I've got to send you an invite to contribute. I have a handful of cousinly addresses (or "numbers" as my mom has been known to call them), leaving me, oh, only about 39 cousins shy. So spread the word (email me at justjenni@gmail.com to get listed) and get to posting.

Perhaps Kevin will get us started with a photo of the other great idea spawned at the after party - the Margaret tattoo? After all, he's got law school application essays to avoid too.