If you want to see God laugh, tell Him your plans.
Oh come off it. After a build up like that, you don’t really expect me to get right to the surprise, do you? Let me guess, you read the last page of a mystery first. Fine, here it is. We’re haunted.
Yup, that’s right. My Mom is haunting us, and she’s back to painting. Beautiful paintings, too, and no one can tell them from an original Candice Alien – well, I guess they are Candice Alien’s.
Well, you’re not going to buy stuff from a bull, I can tell. No, that’s not really my surprise. But Mom has been coming around a lot to see her grandkids. My little boy Vulcan has grown into a, well, lanky and awkward teenager. I think his Grandma has taken it on herself to whip the boy into shape. I don’t remember her having quite that sharp a tongue when she was alive.
Isn’t that the wrong way around though? The strict, stern parent is supposed to turn into the indulgent, kind grandparent. I’ve never heard of it working the other way around. But Vulcan seems to be responding well to it, better than he does to my own chiding.
On the other hand, when it comes to work, he taken more after his Uncle Pak.
There is an art to the building up of suspense. That’s Tom Stoppard, from Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead. Anyway, no, I’m not quite ready to reveal my big surprise, though it wouldn’t shock me if you’ve already guessed. Or looked ahead.
Charlie, my sweet lovable husband, has gone on an utterly insane gym kick. I mean, we all have our hobbies, but please. Well, it makes him happy, so why not?
Oh, all right. I didn’t have a girl. I had a boy. And a girl.
My little ones. Tholian and Horta. And they’re green. Like me and their grandpa.
I’ve been scouring the skies looking for clues to our origin, but I have not been quite as diligent as I might have been. When they were born I realized this. For them, I make my vow that I will fly every day to search out clues that can help them. Neither Hell not high water shall stand in my way.
They are, however, cute little handfuls who’ve grown up so very quickly. Tholian takes after his grandma, and his Uncle, I suppose, in his interest in art. I’ve already caught the little tyke playing on Dad’s piano – of course I let him, Dad would be thrilled beyond words to have one of his grandkids follow him into music.
Horta has a love of books that rivals her Daddy. Charlie started out reading to her, and she devoured every word. Before I knew it, she was reading to me. She has the brains of the family, though it boggles my mind where she gets them from.
The twins get along beautifully with each other, so much that I sometimes worry they’re up to something. If so, well, I know where they get that from. All my fault.