It all started a long long time ago. My mom (the cute blond on the right) was raised in Mexico with her three siblings. In her early teens they moved to San Antonio, Texas.

She was (and still is) such a pretty woman, and athletic too... ok.. so sometimes athletic ;-)

My father, shown below, was stationed in Fort Sam Houston.

They met, and the rest, as they say, is history...

The odd circumstances concerning their wedding and such should have been a clue. A big clue. The family story is that my mom got into a fight with her mother and wanted to run away to prove her point. My dad offerred to take her to visit his folks for the weekend in Missouri. When my grandmother found out, she called the FBI on my father for kidnapping. (Can you say she didn't like him at all? I like the way you say she didn't like him at all ;-) hehehe) So, they married with the intention of getting it annulled as soon as possible just to avoid the charges. My father, needless to say, changed his mind and refused to allow my mother to annul the marriage. So, she decided to try to make the best of things and get on with her life.

Here is the family, complete with Joe (age 6) and me.

I had a few early talents in life *grin*

Wonder why my mom always thought I would become a journalist or a gardner hehehe Just kidding... she knew I lacked the green thumb even then ;-)

But things were not as well as they seemed. By the age of 2 we split for the first time. These pictures are of who we refer to as The Lost One. She was the birth child. The first split formed four people. Below, Tears tries to avoid a picture and a cameraman whom she feared.

Chapter Two: Next exit--Splitsville

The story behind this picture is that my brother and I sometimes had to celebrate our birthdays at the same time because they are only five days apart. Here is a cake made for him and me, with my name badly butchered (have *you* ever met a Ginniffer?). We just thought the split cake was fitting for the next chapter.