Do you ever start thinking about something, then it leads you to thinking about something else, which leads you to thinking about something else, which leads you...well, you get the idea.

Tonight, as I was driving home, I randomly started thinking about knots. Why was I thinking about knots? I have no idea. It was just a bizarre, random thought that popped into my head. I started thinking that other than your usual granny "knot," I really only know how to tie one other knot. That is the knot you use to tie a hook to a fishing line. Then, I started wondering how many girls actually know how to properly tie a hook to a fishing line, and started thinking about how my kids have never been fishing. Now, I realize, a lot of people have probably never been fishing, but if you grew up like I did, not knowing how to fish is VERY strange. You see, my dad was an outdoorsman. He loved camping, hiking, hunting, fishing, etc. We used to camp...a lot. It was a running joke in my family that all you needed was a river and you had the perfect camping spot. At least, that was my dad's idea. Thankfully, Mom eventually convinced him that while she loved that he loved camping so much, she really needed showers and a toilet. Yes, we used to do that kind of camping. Pull over on the side of the road, in the middle of the forest, pop up a tent, pull out the fishing poles, and we were camping. No toilets for miles.

So, anyways...I was thinking about this knot that I knew how to tie, and remembered the evening my dad taught me how to tie a hook to a fishing pole. Up until then, he had always gotten my pole ready. All I had to do was stick the bait on, cast it, and reel in the fish. However, the next day, I was going on a field trip. We were told that if we wanted to, we could fish off of the pier at the place we were going on the field trip. I wanted to catch a shark. I thought that would be beyond cool. Up until then, I had really only fished in lakes and rivers. Fishing in the ocean off of a pier...way cool. So, my dad pulled out my fishing pole that night, taught me how to put the pole together, put the reel on, string it up, hook on the weights, attach the hook, and then how to take it all apart again. The next day, I was ready to go...the only kid that brought a fishing pole. I didn't care. I was going to catch a shark and come home to tell my dad how cool it was and how I did it all by myself. I didn't catch a shark that day. I didn't catch anything. I DID, however, see someone else catch a small shark and got to help him take it off of his hook, which was pretty darn cool.

All this thought of that day, made me start thinking about the day my dad took me to buy my first fishing pole. It was my birthday. I was SO stinking excited. I was getting MY OWN PERSONAL FISHING POLE!!!!! It was something I had wanted for a long time. It was something none of my siblings had. It was something that was special...that Dad and I were going to go out together and pick out and buy for me. So stinking cool. It's strange, how even now, the memory of that night is as clear as though it had happened just yesterday. He took me to Tri City Sporting Goods and we looked at poles. We took them down, we thrashed them about, seeing if they were flexible enough, he showed me how to grab the top and bottom and make sure it could bend because if if didn't bend well, it could snap at the weight of a fish (yeah, because I was going to be catching fish big enough to snap a pole! LOL) We finally found it...the perfect pole. It was sleek. It was black. It was going to be mine...all mine. We found the perfect reel. It matched the pole. It was awesome. We took the reel to the counter to get fishing line put on it. The man asked my dad what pound test he wanted for my pole. Dad asked me what the biggest fish I thought I was going to catch with that pole was. I told him I had no idea and asked him what he thought. He told me I probably wouldn't find a fish bigger than 8 pounds where I'd be fishing with that pole. So, Dad asked for a 15 pound test. "Why?" I asked, figuring if I wasn't going to catch a fish larger than 8 pounds, I only needed an 8 pound test line. Dad laughed and explained that he has seen me fish and I tend to get the hook caught on the tulies more often than I catch a fish and he didn't want me losing my lures in the tulies, so he was going to get me a heavier line so the line wouldn't break when I tried to get free of them. So, the man at the counter filled my reel with 15 pound test, Dad paid for everything, and we went home. That was honestly one of the happiest days of my life. Growing up with a lot of siblings, there weren't that many times that we were able to go out with just my mom or dad and no other kids along. This was a special night. It was Dad and me doing something together that we both enjoyed. It was perfect.

Of course, all of this led to me thinking about my dad. I have so many wonderful memories with him. Oddly (or maybe not so oddly) enough, the majority of them involve fishing. lol I miss him. I miss him a lot. The grief hits me at the oddest times...like when I'm driving down the road, thinking about knots.

One year ago today, my family was forever changed. One year ago today, too many people learned the hard way that life is too short to not hold the ones you love close. One year ago today, my little brother, Isaac, was shot and killed. As far as I know, the police are no closer to finding who did this to him than they were a year ago. So many people claim to know what happened, why it happened, and who did it, but no one talks to the police. It's frustrating.

I didn't learn of his murder until one year ago, tomorrow. One year ago, tomorrow, we were celebrating my daughter's second birthday. One year ago, tomorrow, Sera was playing with her birthday gifts when my mom called me. One year ago, tomorrow, my mom told me that she had really bad news and that my little brother had been shot and killed. One year ago tomorrow, I felt sorrow that I hadn't felt since my dad had passed away. Only this time, it was coupled with guilt...the guilt of not being the best sister I could have been; the guilt of not telling him enough how much I loved him; the guilt of letting him draw away from the family and not fighting harder to keep him close; the guilt of not knowing if he died, not knowing how much I loved him. I should have done more. I should have been there the few times he did reach out to the family. I should have been a better sister, and now it's too late. I can't be that for him. I miss him.

This past weekend, my little brother, Louis, got married! He and Melissa have been dating for about eight years now, so really, marriage was just a formality...Melissa has been a part of the family for a long time now.

My mom, sister and I (and our respective families) rented a house literally just steps from the beach for the weekend. It was beautiful. My family left Thursday afternoon to make the five hour drive to Oceano. About an hour and a half in, we realized that we had forgotten Ethan's tuxedo and Drake's clothes in our wardrobe at home! Drake's clothes, we could replace when we got up there, but Ethan's tux (he was the ring bearer) wouldn't be so easily replaced! So, much to my dismay, we had to turn around, drive home, then start the journey all over again! We got up there around 1 in the morning on Friday. When we woke up that morning, Drake took the kids to the beach while I hung out at the house with AllieGayle. Later that evening was the rehearsal and rehearsal dinner. The dinner was at Del's Pizzaria and I had their rosemary chicken provolone ravioli with pesto sauce. It was SO good! Saturday, the wedding was held at the Avila Beach Resort. The weather was perfect and everything was gorgeous! The kids danced the night away and crashed as soon as they got home. Sunday was a day for packing, then spending some time with my family at the beach.

We got to see a side of Cole that we didn't know existed!!! Earlier last week, he came to me, concerned about the reception because he didn't know how to dance. He asked me how to dance. Now, if you know me, you know I can't dance. Well, you probably don't know that, because you've never seen me dance. That's because I don't dance. That's because I can't dance. I once took a hula class and the instructor called out to me, "Katie, you're Hawaiian...what are your hips doing moving like a white girl?" Sadly, that was giving me way too much credit and giving "white girls" a bad name. It's honestly just that bad. lol So, anyways, I told Cole that you just feel the music and move your body the way the music tells it to move. Now, see, I know this in theory. In practice, it's a whole different matter! Cole seemed content with that answer. So, he seemed to take my words to heart because as soon as the music started, he was out there on the dance floor, dancing the night away. He was sweating like crazy and was just AMAZING. I didn't know that boy could move like that! It was raw talent, baby! He must take after his aunty, because he sure didn't get that from me! I did go out and dance once. (Go, me!) Ethan asked me to dance with him to a slow song...how sweet is that? Apparently he asked his Uncle Jay to dance with him and was told that he needed to dance with a girl. lol So, I danced with him...rather awkwardly. I like to think people thought I was dancing badly because I was slow dancing with a four year old. Yeah, that's it.

We had such an amazing time! I love when I get to spend time with my family. It doesn't happen anywhere near often enough!

Some pictures from the wedding and reception. These are obviously out of order, but I don't feel like taking the time to reorder them:




Pictures of my kids at the beach to follow at a later time! :)