Cute up your Corner! Again....

My parents, grew in 'Our Small Town', married and moved away for city life. As a child, I feel in love with this town, while frequently visiting my extended family. I spent 5 days (always 5 days) summering here. I felt safe, comfortable and completely enthralled with small town life.
My cousins, were allowed to ride their bikes several blocks from home! They could walk alone to Grandma's house, went to Bible school with their friends and seemed to have the greatest Fried Cinnamon's for breakfast every morning.
Several years after I began raising my children here, my Pleasantville Love Affair, continues to thrive.
I love to walk uptown or to the Ballfield.
I love attending my nieces and nephews events, dining at Turtles and having our children's Doctor, just a phone call away.
Above all...I love our weekly stop at The Dairy Queen. (occasionally, twice weekly.) We had a Dairy Queen in my town but weirdly, it was not nearly as magical.
Sadly, as with many small towns around this country, our Quaint Oasis, is threatened. As small businesses close, the shine of our downtown is fading, our Park and Recs program has been dramatically slashed and our baseball complex has been left tattered by age plus a pretty angry tornado.
Our community needs an IMPACT.
Several dedicated volunteers including The Commissioner and Grammy, have devoted hours searching their creative core while simultaneously learning a little about politics. They plan to put the Skip back in Our Town's step. If it 'Takes a Village' to bring Our Town back to it's former glory, I am grateful to have them as my fellow residents.

I would like to reintroduce our plan to...
'Cute Up Your Corner'.

There are several towns across America, who have chosen a 'theme'. A nearby town had adopted Pink Petunias. Washington State and Michigan are famous for their tulips, Washington D.C. for their Cherry Blossoms...etc.
I would like encourage this community to pump a cheerful shot of Yellow into our neighborhoods. Put a smile, back into your evening stroll and declare to visitors 'living in Our Town Equals some pretty happy people'.

Please, find a small space in your yard (or maybe even your grandparents!). Your corner, around a tree, your front porch or even a small window box. Splash yellow all up, down and around it.
Imagine:
Yellow Tulips or daffodils, in the Spring.
Yellow Day Lilies/Bright annuals in the Summer
and Big, bushy yellow Mums in the Fall.
Obviously, all participants are not required to follow our flower suggestions. Certainly, inject your color of choice across your curb. Not all of us have the skin tone to pull off yellow! Though, I am positive your yard has the perfect complexion for cheerful.
Picture if you please... driving to work each morning, greeted by hundreds of bright yellow Tulips, waving hello. Strolling in the evening, admiring the warm glow of Day Lilies.
And if yellow Mums, on each corner, does not scream 'Fall Festivals are Awesome' what does?
But why stop there? Our Impact has gained the City Council's approval to 'Adopt' several public locations to Cute Up.
Please contact us, to become the proud adoptive parent of your very own City Corner. Park Entrances, Schools, Nursing Homes, The Pool Entrance, Churches, the Town Welcome signs...the more interest generated, the more locations we will foster out to your family or organization.
Real-Life Pleasantville, can be a dream realized.
I believe, flowers can make any Grump smile, color can inspire a child's creativity and one person can beautify a community with a simple idea and a 'Grass roots' campaign.
Change can begin, at your front porch.

Cute Up Your Corner,
officially Re-implemented.

Lovin Small Town Life

This week, Coach and I are embarking on a few different Summer projects, in our community.
While we prepare....I thought it would be fitting, to celebrate/laugh your tails off, while remembering life, in your small town.

Enjoy.
(following not written by moi, copy/paste from the Internet Abyss!)

Small Town

1) You can name everyone you graduated with.
2) You know what 4-H means.
3) You went to parties at a pasture, barn, gravel pit, or in the middle of a dirt road. On Monday you could always tell who was at the party because of the scratches on their legs from running through the woods when the party was busted.
4) You used to "drag" Main.
5) You said the "F" word and your parents knew within the hour.
6) You scheduled parties around the schedules of different police officers because you knew which ones would bust you.
7) You could never buy cigarettes because all the store clerks knew how old you were (and if you were old enough, they'd tell your parents anyhow).
8) When you did find somebody old enough and brave enough to buy cigarettes, you still had to go out into the country and drive on back roads to smoke them.
9) You knew which section of the ditch you would find the beer your buyer dropped off.
10) It was cool to date somebody from the neighboring town.
11) The whole school went to the same party after graduation.
12) You didn't give directions by street names but rather by references.
Turn by Nelson's house, go 2 blocks to Anderson's, and it's four houses left of the track field.
13) The golf course had only 9 holes.
14) You couldn't help but date a friend's ex-boyfriend/girlfriend.
15) Your car stayed filthy because of the dirt roads, and you will never own a dark vehicle for this reason.
16) The town next to you was considered "trashy" or "snooty," but was actually just like your town.
17) You referred to anyone with a house newer than 1965 as the "rich people."
18) The people in the "big city" dressed funny, and then you picked up the trend 2 years later.
19) Anyone you wanted could be found at the local gas station, drive-in or the town bar.
20) You saw at least one friend a week driving a tractor through town or one of your friends driving a grain truck to school occasionally.
21) The gym teacher suggested you haul hay for the summer to get stronger.
22) Directions were given using THE stop light as a reference.
23) When you decided to walk somewhere for exercise, 5 people would pull over and ask if you wanted a ride.
24) Your teachers called you by your older siblings' names.
25) Your teachers remembered when they taught your parents.
26) You could charge at any local store or write checks without any ID.
27) The closest McDonalds was 25 miles away.
28) The closest mall was over an hour away.
29) It was normal to see an old man riding through town on a riding lawn mower.
30) Most people went by a nickname.

And to think, I moved here on purpose, so that one day my children may also laugh at these.

Best thing I heard today.

Number One was laying on my floor, compulsively texting. Middle of the afternoon, hardly out of his pajamas, not showered, mostly awake.
While talking about the Dreaded 5Mile, Doc asked One if he was planning on joining us in the race.

One, barely glancing away from his phone, calmly replied, "I've had to go pee for the last 20 minutes and am too lazy to get up and walk down the hall to the bathroom. I am sure as heck not going to run 5 miles, for no reason."

He then continued to text.

Greatest reply, I have heard all week.
That boy makes sense.

The girl with Kaleidoscope Eyes.

To our dear number Nine.
You are the sparkle of mischief that twinkles in our big ol' family's eye.
You are full of spunk, sass and silly.
Not to mention tough, talented, tiny and recently toothless.

You can be coaxed with candy and compliments, which is how your God-father finally won a teensy bit of your sunshine.
And you just have to be the trickiest little pick pocket in short-shorts.
We love you so darn much, that if you wake up during a sleep over at 3:00am, I will promise to snuggle you for at least 25 minutes. After that, you are really on your own.
Happy Birthday, Pretty Girl.
Thanks for all the giggles and wiggles. That tiny little bottom, sure can boogie.
CC in the Sky with Diamonds....

I want to throw everything away.

Four out of five of us, were smacked around by the stomach flu yesterday.
It was short lived but brutal.
At this moment, Coach is the only member unaffected. I give him less than 24 hours.
Because I am an utterly positive person, who dances around with hope, rainbows and pixies...I was able to find the silver lining, while tripping around Zombieland.

1. There may have been a few sympathy gags, but no actual sympathy pukes from Coach. Proving, he really is the Bigtoughman, he says he is.

2. Online, Kohl's towels are Buy One Get One for $1. We needed new towels anyway and at some point, in the blinding mania...washing machines and being 'Green' was no longer the right option. Purchase made, around 10:38pm last night.

3. The next day weigh-in. Not for the kids, we do not actually encourage stomach viruses to keep them fit and trim. Now, regarding myself...that weigh in was the best reason to crawl out of bed this morning!

4. Hearing Tink, say the word "Pukes" was by far the cutest and most pathetic thing, I have ever heard.

Also, at one point, The Kid said "Mom, I know you probably hear this all the time, but you are a really great mom for taking such good care of me."

Actually, I never hear that...you normally say you hate us. But I'll take it where I can get it.

5. Coco, was a one puke only. Again, proving she is the easiest of the bunch.

6. By far, the brightest...it only took down one parent at a time. Otherwise, we would have paid a taxi, to collectively check us into the hospital for 6 hours.

7. Coach cleaned, non-stop. Love that. There were several times last night, he seemed more attractive to me...I'm sure the feeling, was not reciprocated.

Most negative:
I hate the smell of Germ X.
Oh, and my poor little babies in pain...but mostly, the smell of Germ X.

Creepy

At our Sock Hop, we ordered several bins of Bazooka Gum. Tink has taken to chewing this gum, All Day Long.
She chews like a teenage Pink Lady and we have had zero negative issues, with gum in hair or carpet. She will chew the same piece for hours, put it in the garbage and then chew another.
I can hear the gasps! from the mothers, who cannot believe we allow our 3 year old to chew gum, but hey...some like a passie, some like a bottle, some like a smoke and our girl likes some pink gum.
You win some, you lose some.
However, this morning, when I finally went to drag Little Miss from her bed at 9:00am... she awoke, chewing the same piece from the night before.
I was immediately repulsed and begged her to get a new piece. She very politely and Tink-like, declined my suggestion and continued with the same piece, now a minimum of 13 hours old.
Friendly reminder, Bazooka gum is awesome...but only for the first 16 minutes. Afterwards, it is immediately void of all flavor.



The very idea of that bland taste, has inspired:
Things that creep the bleep out of me.

1. Chewing cheap gum for 13 hours.
2. When you do not eat your Captain Crunch quick enough, and a film begins to cover your milk.
3. Waking up with a spider bite and realizing that at some point of your peaceful slumber, you were spooning an eight-legged vampire.
4. When Coach, licks his hands/shoes/back to lick/shoes again and then wipes sweat off forehead/finish with shoes again. Before each free throw. Sick.
5. Stepping in something wet, on the kitchen floor, with socks on.
6. Eating Peeps.
7. The moment you slip on your gardening gloves, totally convinced, there is a black widow spider, lurking deep inside.
8. Cleaning the bottom of the kitchen sink drain.
9. Cleaning the toilet, your very distracted, 8 year old son uses.
10. Drinking warm Pepsi.
11. Baby formula puke.
12. The minute, you realize your baby just ate a bug, off the floor.
13. The blond guy, that used to play the guitar in the Saturday Night Live band.
14. Getting food, on the book you are reading.
15. Tiger Woods' text messages.
16. The sound of Styrofoam.
17. Accidentally, touching old gum, under a fast-food table.
18. Cranberry sauce from a can.
19. Not shaving your legs, before a pedicure, or the Oscars....lookin at you, MoNique.
20. Girlfriends who enjoy popping their boyfriends pimples. Ick.

Sunshine and Sweetness.

To my second and third. My beautiful girls.
No sentiment, could more perfectly describe, the path that led me to you.



If nothing ever changed, there'd be no butterflies.-Author Unknown.


Happy Spring, my daughters.
I love watching you bloom.

Parenting like a team.

A quick exchange, between parents.

Me: If you serve Coco cheerios, one more time, without first cleaning off her tray...I am going to serve you dinner, on dirty plates.

Coach: Point taken.

End scene.

I'd like to rain all over your green parade.

It is possible, a few of you, are regretting your celebration last night. Which is why, the day after St. Patrick's Day, feels the most appropriate for my 'Things I don't get'.
If I had done this yesterday, I may have been a spoiled sport.


Things I do not get....

1. Corned Beef and Cabbage. Yuck, my eyes and ears have both tasted this dish and no thank-you. Christmas gets cookies, Halloween gets candy, Thanksgiving gets pies, Easter gets Cadbury Cream Eggs and St. Patrick's Day gets....Cabbage. I'm not sure the Irish really thought that out.

2. Green Beer. Why would anyone find that appealing? For future reference, I do not get, Green Skittles, green fruit snacks, green jello and green Kool-aid. They all taste like freshly cut grass.
Green, is the color associated with mold.

3. 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' shirts. Really, after all the green beer you have been drinking...aren't you just going to try and kiss somebody anyway? Why bother wearing the shirt.

4. The snake myth. I found the following on the Internet...

The patron saint of Ireland was born to a wealthy British family in the late fourth century. When he was 16 years old, he was kidnapped and sent to Ireland, where he was sold into slavery. For six years, he worked as a shepherd and turned to Christianity in his isolation.

It was during this time he had a dream God told him to flee from his captors. St. Patrick’s time in captivity left a tremendous impression on him and he studied to become a priest. While serving in France, he had more visions, to return to Ireland. He returned to the island country, where he was consecrated as a missionary bishop in 432.

Back in Ireland, St. Patrick worked to abolish paganism. Sensitive about his lack of education during his time in slavery, St. Patrick set up learning centers in the church for slaves and the poor.

One thing he did not do, although he is often given credit for it, is rid the country of serpents, the island likely was never inhabited by snakes and the myth developed as an explanation for it.

Today, people associate St. Patrick’s Day with shamrocks and leprechauns more than the bearded man who is believed to have died on March 17. St. Patrick is frequently pictured holding a staff and a shamrock. The reason for the shamrock, the three-leaf clover, was to explain the concept of the Trinity: the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

In Ireland, March 17 is a Holy Day and a national holiday. In the U.S., St. Patrick’s Day is a day of both worship and celebration for many Catholics.

After reading that, I'm sure next year, my husband and his buddies will meet up at church, after work.
Also, next time Coach appears nervous around snakes, I'll tell The Kid, his ancestors did not live amongst them. You can't fight your bloodline.


In our home, this holiday is an actual, legitimate reason, to showcase the clover attire we own. We have a stupid large collection of shamrocks. It is the one day of the year, they look festive, like other children....rather than a walking advertisement for their Father's Fan Club.

HAPPY SainT PATRICK's birthDAY

To our dear Godson, Saint Patrick.
Daddy got his wish, of never again celebrating this holiday, without his boy!
As with my Eleven, I am so very proud to be your god-mother. The title is truly an honor.
You are a guy's guy and we will be spending many hours at your athletic events. You have really taken to Coach and it burns me a little, every time I have to hand you over. I plan to change that, this summer.
I look forward to many years of loving you. It is a joy to have you and your super cute siblings, in our lives. I just hope you boys, do not break my girl's hearts.

(The following poem was given to Saint Patrick and his brother, for their birthdays. I admit, I stole the idea but rewrote the entire poem.)



Play Like a Champion, Ditta’s Boys

Papa John and Daddy, have a great, big giant wish.
For me to storm The Grotto, with the Fighting Irish.

First, I’ll have to grow
like all good Catholic boys.
Say my prayers, eat my veggies,
and clean up all my toys.

Listen to my mommy,
cuz I’m told she’s always right.
Honor ‘God, Country, Notre Dame’
and never start a fight.

Daddy tells me stories,
which will make my heart grow bold.
Of Rudy and The Rocket,
who wore the Blue and Gold.

Each night as I sleep,
I’ll ride The Horsemen in my dreams.
And cross my tiny fingers,
Lou will sign me to his team.

Every chilly Saturday,
Sunbury will proudly take their seats.
As I ‘win one for the Gipper’
with Michigan choking on my cleats.

Until that day, I pray God,
will bless our Duffy home.
And keep us safe and warm,
Cuddled beneath his Golden Dome.

Happy First Birthday, Saint Patrick.... the most perfect reason to celebrate this day. I hope your bright blue Irish eyes are smiling!

Motherhood is magical.

This past weekend, my baby, my very last little baby, was officially weaned.

That said,
in the last 9 years...

I have spent 26 months nursing my children.

Not to mention, approximately, 27 months pregnant.

Giving a total of 53 months (or 4.42 years) physically nourishing my beautiful children.

A number, I shall never forget.
Nor, shall Coach.

Because....
I am pretty sure, I will never let him.

Life imitating Art

I know a man,

who...

- is the last one to leave each and every party.
- has never heard the phrase, 'over staying your welcome'
- likes to 'close his eyes' just real quick, for a minute.
- will leave his wife stranded at the door, while he very slowly extends just one more goodbye.
- will call a family member, for just 3 minutes, because he heard something funny.
- will rearrange several calenders for a basketball game.
- will rearrange several calenders for a softball game.
- believes that viewing Warhol's art on a bar wall, is the next best thing to The Louvre. And really replaces the need to ever travel there.
- is pretty sure everything that is important will happen within 65 miles of here.
- would help a complete stranger, get a ride to the nearest gas station, while forgetting he left his very own wife, home alone waiting on him.
- would never take Oprah's, 'No Phone Zone' pledge. Otherwise, how could he possibly make a five minute drive without calling Flag girl.
- thinks Coach is superflyawesome.
- is ready for something sweet, upon finishing the last bite of dinner.
- thinks The Commish, is practically running this town.
- thinks Doc is really a doctor.
- is happy to start a home repair project and solidly finish 86% of it.

Question:
Is the man I am describing....
A.) Grandpa
B.) Coach
C.) Both of the above.

Re-read the list. The superflyawesome comment is more funny now.

I appear to have married a man that is quickly morphing into his father. I could be just a tiny bit creeped out by this revelation, except there are much worse things that could happen.
Grandpa, is a wonderful, friendly and loving man. He is a friend, grandpa, father and uncle to many. He has raised children who are funny, brilliantly out-going, charitable and obnoxiously helpful. I can honestly say, that the community is just a little bit better due to this man living amongst us.
I appreciate every blizzard, sarcastic quip at my expense, text message and extra dessert snuck my way during the fish fry.
On this day, I will honestly admit...Grandma and I are pretty lucky ladies.

But seriously, do you guys always have to ditch us at every single social event?
Happy Birthday, Grandpa.
We love you.

March showers bring...or something like that.

Remember a little while back, when I asked if we had been cast in The Day After Tomorrow?
Well, have we?
Immediately, following the ice falling from the sky, the clouds have unleashed 2 days worth of rain.
Know what?
I'll take rain, hail and wind...as long as it is not snow.
That said, if the weather continues to get creepy...who is ready to gather our belongings and head to Mexico?







FYI- Photographs taken by The Kid. Who may not be the genius, we thought. We held him back, from racing out to play in the chunks of ice, falling heavily from above.

I just want to look better in a bikini, not be a role model for my children.

Coach's family has established a summer tradition.
Running a 5Mile on the Fourth of July.
Awesome, clap, high five.

Why can't we, start a Garden club?
Or meet for ice cream on Father's Day,
or start a Saturday afternoon Kite Flying Club?
All sound more reasonable.

This is Clark's doing. No one claims he is the brightest member of our family and this Gem is not earning him any brownie points from my corner.

He roped his wife and Flag girl first. Easy score, those girls would jump off a cliff together, holding hands and giggling.
Then, he convinced The Commish and Two.
After I dared Coach, those guys were way bigger jocks than him...Coach reluctantly agreed.

Last year, they woke up obscenely early and ran a 5Mile.
No one paid them.
There were no prizes.
They just ran, in the rain, for no darn reason.

Now, the hippity dippity good time, is gaining momentum and more members of the family. Including cousins. Everyone wants a piece of the mind bending fun.

Here is the thing.

I hate to Run.

I don't want to be friends with Running.
I don't want to invite Running over for a cookout.
I don't want to hook up with Running in a bar and give it my phone number.
I don't want to email Running a funny chain letter.
I don't want to know Running, talk to Running, send Running a Christmas card and I sure
...do ..not ....want ...to Run a 5Mile.

I am not writing this post to inspire myself and others. I do not need blog followers to encourage me with peppy emails. There will be no real training. I simply lack that spark in my brain that triggers people to 'run fast'.

Last summer, Coach did not train. At all.
He is in fine shape, but not running shape.
He bought a new pair of shoes, did not brake them in, did not stretch and with NO support from his family (actually, we were all hoping he would lose and we openly told him such) he still beat every other member who had been training for weeks.
Coach confessed, even though his body wanted to walk, his mind said no. As strangers ran with him, his brain would convince him to run faster. He could not lose, not to anyone, not even to a person he had never met and would never see again. His brain is not wired for defeat.

Now, my brain.
My brain, says quit.
Not in life, not with my family or my health or in seeking joy.
But if I tried to run to the end of my very own driveway.
After 3 seconds, my brain would respond..
"What the bleep are you doing? The driveway is not going anywhere. Just walk. Dang, girl...we nearly lost our breath."

This morning, I got on Amazon to purchase Running for Dummies.
I clicked the book and Amazon suggested, "A Woman's guide, to Training for a Marathon, Get out of that Chair Already".
Honestly, that was the name.
I felt the title spoke to me, and I clicked that to my cart.
Then, the site suggested, "The Very Beginner's Guide, to Training for a 5K. A Woman's Guide to Run, Jog or Walk a 5K."
I clicked that to my cart, deleted the other two and purchased.
Seriously, even Amazon knows I lack the gumption. The Internet understands, I can barely get out of my chair and should just shoot for walking.
I already quit running, just while shopping online for books. I should feel disappointed in my own lameness or even slightly embarrassed.
And yet, I do not.

Therefore, here is my promise.

I promise to participate (participate, does not spell run) in the 5Mile.
I promise to buy cute shorts, new shoes and fashion a smart ponytail.
I promise to, at the very least, walk quickly.
I promise to take the pre-race, yoga more seriously, than the actual running.
I promise, to try not to swear or throw things at the crowd as they kindly push me to run.
(I said, I will try not to swear.)
I promise to be encouraging and happy for my other family members as they compete. If it is important, to run down a street at 8:00am, without masked men chasing you. I can pretend that your goal, is important to me.
I also, promise to be one more person, you will beat.

You are welcome.
It is my pleasure, to be your loser.

We lobe da Cawgo!

On Monday, we yanked The Kid out of school and headed to their favorite place on earth!
'Da Cawgo!'
We had planned a mini pre-Spring Break trip up to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. The kids were bouncing off the walls with excitement. For 14 solid hours, before take off.
The trick, is to pick a day when other law-abiding citizens, send their children to school. At that time, the Aquarium is near empty and you may mill around each exhibit, at your fancy.
The night before, the kids were presented with a stack of quarters and were given one chore at a time, until they had filled their piggy banks. Early, Monday morning, they marched into the bank, to exchange their change. We entered the gift shop first, with their baggies of dollars, ready to purchase their treats.
Sharks for The Kid.
Dolphins for Tink.
A mini stuffed Turtle for Coco.
(See, we taught a lesson about earning and spending money. Who needs school?!)

We skipped onto our first tank and Tink was literally shaking from the awesomeness.
Throughout the Shedd experience, the kids were polite, sweet to each other, hugging their parents, thanking us for the day, looking super cute out of their pajamas. It was a perfectly pleasant day.
Just drive your children to Chicago, drop 100 bucks and they are the children you have always dreamt of.








When your baby starts to look like this...
(how cute is she holding her Turtle?)


And the big kids start to mellow like this....



It is time to move onto our next destination.
We drove South for awhile and stopped at Daddy's old College pizza job.
The Kid is VERY interested in anything from 'the History' of his family and this trip down memory lane, was the icing on his cake.



Sorry, but is Coco getting cuter every single darn day that passes?
I believe, yes.



The kids filled up on spaghetti, they continued with their hugs and thanks to the greatest parents in the world and we took our tired babies home.
It was a wonderful day.
The kind that reminds you, all three kids fit perfectly.

Our only Tink moment?
When I said, "Wave goodbye to Chicago, kids!"

Don't say dat! Don't wabe to da buildings! Don't leabe da Cawgo! Libe here! I lobe da Cawgo!

Repeat, for 10 minutes, until she fell fast asleep.

Feeling 22? Not so much.

Last weekend, Coach went out for a bit.
I stayed home with the kids.
Standard.
A friend, asked Coach, where his wife was.
He replied, "She's at home, with the kids, where she belongs."

Admittedly, that was probably funny at the time. Everyone near him chuckled.
When I received the replay later, it felt a little less funny.
It was way past time, for me to get out.

This weekend, several opportunities presented themselves and we went out...twice. Two nights in a row! We made several stops, at multiple gatherings and felt 22 again!

Well, at 10:00pm, while deep in the fun-ness, we felt 22. About 7:00am the next morning, with three kids, we felt more like 80-ish.

Occasionally, we like to play a game called, "What would we be doing right now, if we were one of those crazy couples, married without children?"
If we were...
We would have slept WAY in, ordered Chinese for lunch, rented rated R movies...or at least PG-13 and napped. Several times.

Instead,



We rented 'Where the Wild Things Are' and the kids cuddled in their chairs, with their own copies of the book, to reference.



And while I cleaned the kitchen, The Kid and Six somehow, stood innocently by, as Coco obtained TWO thin mints, at once.



Resulting in an emergency bath.



While our time 'out' was very much, extremely, laugh out loud fun. And we are grateful for hilarious friends and family. Not to mention, all the invites.
Alas, we were painfully, made aware, that we are not,
in fact,
22.

Oh well, movie nights with movies, made from books, while holding books...is pretty fun.
And Coco, looks pretty darn cute...covered in coco.

Flashback Friday, 1986

I was recently told, that my blog felt a little like being cast in a funny play.
I consider this, a very high compliment.
My Company is Eighty percent, Coach's family. I very much appreciate, what great sports they are. Without you, I can not imagine how lame this blog would be. I could not have cast a better group, if I had held auditions.

Coach, recently cleaned out several boxes of treasures (old junk) from his parents' home. After diving in (throwing out) much of the goodies, we began to discover several items were his siblings. Reports cards, old newspaper clippings, a few applications for the DQ.... so very much dirty laundry for a blogger to receive.
I considered a post, devoted entirely to his family's old clippings but quickly thought the better of it.
If anyone, were to post old pics of me, without proper veto privileges...
I would just die.
Slowly and painfully.
Then, I found the golden nugget. The most precious and sought after, of all Flashback Fridays.
This post is not meant to humiliate or poke fun.
As a matter of fact, I am now just a bit more taken with the subject.

The eldest of Coach's clan, is Warhol. A graduate and pristine product of the 80's. In this one yearbook photo, I have NEVER and I mean never, seen such a perfect, shining example of the decade of decadence.




Am I the only person flashing, happily back to Christian Slater, in Gleaming the Cube? A younger, cuter Nic Cage of Valley Girl..or Kevin Bacon in Footloose?
How perfect, are those bandannas?
He is beyond rad.
He is totally, tubular.
I love it.

All this time, I thought I had nailed, the cutest brother.
Strictly, my opinion....Jackie, may certainly, disagree.

Who's on your list?

Coach and I, pass our time, asking each other 'listing games'.

Cuz, as you know, we are a very deep and intellectual couple and are always up in each others brains. Just hanging out in our psychological garbage, mushing it around and knowing each other better every day, of our emotionally connected marriage.

Anyway, you have already participated in our game...Who would you Jack?
(post date: November 12, 2009)
And I am sure that provided, you and yours, with hours of deeply personal conversation.

Here is our game, this week.

Question: If you had one day, to prepare to be dumped on this deserted island, for the rest of your life...and could only take Twelve people with you....who would you take??





Extra Details:
The island will have all of life's pleasures.
Better, than the pleasures you currently have.
There is a grand estate, with swimming pools, tennis/basketball courts, a library, a garden for all your food and private bedrooms.
You will also be provided; One maid and One housekeeper.



Rules:
No guilt invites.
You can not list your parents, 'just because that would be the right thing to do'.
If you would like to take them, because they are cool....then by all means.
You can not list your children.
Participants must be 18, or older.
If you invite, your friend, cuz she is fun...you do not have to invite her boring husband. Couples, are not a guarantee.
No famous people.
No dead people.
No people you hope to meet or dream to hook up with.

You have to pick 12 separate people, you would want to have fun with, eat your dinners with, hang out on the beach, talk too and just be island buddies with...for the rest of your life.

Start play.



Disclaimer: If your spouse is not on your list...you may not want to tell them. My blog cannot be blamed for marital spats.
I would also recommend, NOT posting your list, in the Comment section.
If you want to privately tell me, I am on your list...feel free.

Just cuz...

Why, does every single person in this picture...
including myself...
think they are gettin down, like they are on an episode of American Bandstand?



What makes, every day folk, think they have morphed into Michael Jackson, after 11:00pm, on a Saturday night?

This picture makes me happy, in my belly.

Merry Wednesday, to you all!

Green, brown or purple?

Tink and her daddy have 'bluuu eydes'.
If you were unaware, she will tell you.
This began, well over a year ago.
At first, it was very cute. Another sign, of how truly gifted she is. She not only knew her eye color, but could recognize her daddy matched.
Then, it got a little redundant...we get it...you have blue eyes, yada yada.
She later realized that her mommy, Grammy and 'broda' all have 'black eyes, like Dora'.
Again...they are actually brown, but after her preschool screening, the entire world is aware that she will only call brown; black.

In the beginning, we thought the Dora reference was a compliment. We were just like Dora, her Number One Fav! How lucky are we!?
Now, we are getting the feeling, we are not so lucky.
Dora is no Cinderella.

Like a 'not so popular' man in history, Tink has taken to listing the eye color of those around her, in a judgemental and not so complimentary tone. Declaring 'bluuu eydes da winner!'
Making the cut:
"I gots da bluuu eydes, Daddy dos, Uncle Commish, my cousin Eleven, Granma, Granpa, Aunt Doc!"

Clap your hands for the beautiful people!! You are safe.

Those making the 'Black Eyde List':
"Mumm, gots da black eydes, Grammy dos, The Kid dos, Abereee, Aunt Jackie."
No Clap, no exclamation points. Boo, hiss...you are hideous.

A very large chunk of our family has Green eyes. I'm sorry, you are not making any list. She will not even mention green eyes and will not participate in listing your name. I am unsure what that means for all of you, but it's not a good sign. You are worse than ugly, you are Nothings.

The very hot topic of debate is her 'sista's eydes'. They have yet to settle on a color and her older siblings have been arguing since before her birth, what team she will be on. Coco is the family tie breaker.

There are days her eyes are a bright blue, which would vastly improve the superior race's chance at taking over our family majority.

Occasionally, we spot a tiny dark fleck, at the bottom of Coco's eyes. Her brother will jump at this opportunity and declare, the baby...'One of ours! Just like Dora'. Snatching up the baby would really be a 'get'. Because, who doesn't love Coco? That has to help our cause.

Secretly, I am hoping her eyes are green. I realize, that green does not even register on Tink's radar. Coco, may have a lifetime of never earning the respect of eye contact from her older sister. (though, really, how often have any of us received Tink eye contact?)
If Coco had green eyes. She would give a voice to all of those ostracized greenies out there. Not to mention, she would stay comfortably in the middle of our family war.
I have high hopes for this child being our sweet, gooey center.
We really need one.


While, I was working on this post, Tink walked by and glanced at the picture.
She exclaimed:
No, I not want dat picture! I want da bluuu eydes!

We know, hater, we know.