V is for Vanessa

Vanessa, Brian, and their babies

Last of my siblings (only because she has a V-name, which is neither her fault nor mine) is Vanessa, the fourth of four girls, fourth of six kids, and the best-traveled of the lot of us. Vanessa was the first of us girls to figure out that diet and exercise can make even an Ambrose girl thin, and married at the oldest age (I'm pretty sure--I stopped keeping track of my siblings' ages when I started needing a calculator to remember my own). She is also the only child of my parents who was given a name that could be easily shortened--Dad had this thing against shorten-able names.

Vanessa was born on Father's Day way back in the days before ultrasounds were common. I remember staying with Denise and Heather at a neighbor's house while my parents went to the hospital. When dad came back, he had us guess the gender of the baby. The winner got to hold it first. I was the only one who guessed that we had a fourth girl. She was so cuddly!

As soon as Vanessa had some independence, she started traveling. While the rest of us remain relatively home-bound, Vanessa has taken trip after trip to exotic locations. Fortunately, she found a husband who also loves to travel, and the two of them are constantly leaving their beloved dogs with the grandparents so they can travel some more. Someday, when I have more money than I've ever had, Vanessa is going to be my personal travel guru.

Vanessa is stylish, fun, down-to-earth, and unfailingly supportive. When I had my third child, she traveled all the way up here to visit while I was still in the hospital. She's the kind of woman you can count on in a pinch. She's a wonderful sister and a tireless friend. She's going to make one heck of a mom someday soon.

Love you, sis!

S is for John...'S birthday

So for those of you who have been here all month, you might have noticed that my big sister's birthday was on April 1st, and you're thinking "Wow. That family ate a lot of cake in April."

You don't know the half of it.

Of the eight members of our immediate family (not counting spouses, children, etc), seven of us had birthdays in April, May, and June. Seven. Dad was the only original birthday boy, with his birthday about as far removed from the rest of ours as it possibly could be. Mine was fifth in line, so I stopped asking for cake and started looking for more creative birthday desserts. Contrary to popular belief, you can actually eat too much cake.

Lance and Ray, the first two brothers-in-law to join our family, share a birthday, a month removed from dad's. My own husband's birthday is within a week of theirs. Brian, my other brother-in-law, has a birthday within three days of my dad's. Yup, that's now five birthdays in November and December. Really good thing we don't all live together anymore.

And then there are the girls my brothers picked. Instead of continuing the very respectable trend of putting the spouse birthdays six months away from the April-June glutt... they thought they'd add to it. Mark, as I may have mentioned, is dating Kelly, whose birthday is in June, within 2 weeks of his.

John is married to Jenny, whose birthday is within a week of his. Actually, her birthday was this last Sunday.

John's birthday is today.

John and Jenny. Cutest. Couple. Ever.

Sometimes I think John is the coolest of all of us. He's unfailingly charismatic. He's unstoppable when he wants something. He knows the value of hard work and is willing to work hard to get what he wants. He's the most athletic (though lately Denise and Heather have been giving him a run for his money) and, I do believe, he was the most popular in school. Because who can hate that face?

Like Mark, John grew up mostly after I left the house. I remember being amazed when I visited home during college breaks when I realized that John was actually funny. It was such a strange concept. He was always the smallest--though he might be taller than me and Heather, now--but that didn't give him short-man syndrome. It made him scrappy. In a friendly sort of way. (It probably helped that he had a wonderful friend his age, also named John, who was even smaller than he was.)

John is the only one of my parents' children who didn't catch the fiction bug--I believe that, when he reads, he's more likely to read non-fiction like my dad--but that's okay. I love him how he is. I love that he's always happy. I love that he has such great taste in women. I love thinking of how he'll be with his children.

I just love him.

Happy Birthday, John!

M is for Mark (the baby)

I love all my siblings, and could never pick a favorite. Really. I couldn't. And wouldn't. And you shouldn't, either.

But if I had to, Mark would be in the running. Definitely in the top five.

Yeah, I think this pic speaks for itself.

Though my parents succeeded in turning five out of the six of us into readers, only Mark seems to be as obsessed with books as I am. Like me, he'll always have a book nearby and he devours them. He mostly reads epic fantasy and sci fi, two (of the many) genres I adore.

Mostly, though, I love Mark because one day, when I was visiting over the holidays, he got all excited telling me about the guy who was picked to finish Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series. Yanno, this guy named Brandon Sanderson. Who? I asked. He was quite appropriately shocked and I left with the first two MISTBORN books in my hot little hands. (Mark, if you're reading this, I totally returned those to you. Like, ages ago. I'm not up here, years later, ignoring who they belong to while I loan them out to all my friends. Nu-uh.)

Since then, I can depend upon Mark to text me whenever there is any awesome Brandon news. He's content to talk books with me far into the night.

Also? Best. Uncle. Ever.

He did most of his growing up after I left home, but from the day I got to help with his home-delivery (which was awesome) to the day he got taller than all of us, my "littlest" brother Mark has been a constant source of delight.

Which can only increase when he proposes to his girlfriend already. *waves to Kelly* *is glad she's so far away* *is now worried that she'll see them in three weeks* *still doesn't delete the paragraph*

Any of your siblings share your obsessions?

G is for Graham (aka Dad)

My father is English (see "E is for England" on April 5th). He has the accent to prove it and is constantly mispronouncing words like tomAHtoe and GAR-age. (He's been in America longer than I have, so I'm sure he's doing now just to be backwards.)

Dad recently took a trip to England to visit with his family upon the event of his father's funeral. (We all would have loved to go, obviously, but it's dang expensive to travel that far!) He's a photographer, so of course he came home with bunches of pictures. This one, obviously, was taken by someone else:

My dad. Isn't he handsome?

When he posted it on Facebook, dad said this about the picture:

Me on top of a fell (large hill) in Lancashire that Philip [his brother] and I climbed together. It was cold, misty and remote... just what I was looking for!

Notice the stylish hat, compass, and grey sweater / green slack combo. This is where I get my instinct for comfort and practicality over fashion. (Though I would never consider slacks to be good hiking gear.)

Growing up, Dad was always wanting to take us on nature walks, scenic drives, and "let's try to get ourselves lost" adventures. Now that he has oodles and gobs of grandchildren, whenever we get together he disappears with the lot of them like a daddy duck with a herd of ducklings. They seldom get lost, but they do come back pink-cheeked and usually saturated in dirt, snow, or water. I did not inherit dad's wanderlust, but I married a man who also loves nature (so my boys get plenty of fresh air despite mommy's homebodyness).

My dad is a huge reader and critical thinker. So many of the twists and turns my brain can take (and which must often be edited out of my writing) are easily traceable to him. Unlike me, however, he reads exclusively non-fiction. If When I publish my own work of fiction, he'll probably read it to be nice, but I don't really expect him to enjoy it. I DO expect him to sit me down and ask me to explain myself, why I included each element, and what I think about my theme, etc.

There is no letting down the mental guard around my father, folks. :) Thinking is required and enforced.

What parts of your dad do you carry around?