I never really get a good night's sleep. At best, I get about five hours of sleep a night. Many nights, I fall asleep watching a game and then wake up to go to bed. At that point, I am up awake. I lie in my bed and read on my ipad or play a few games... Candy Crush and Soda Crush are kind of addictive.
Not to change the subject, but did I hear right that the maker of Candy Crush sold it for over a billion... with a B... dollars. Not to sound like an idiot, but what did the guy that bought it really buy? I mean how do you recoup a billion dollars? I mean there has to be some value in those games, but I don't see it.
There is a reason that people have money and I don't.
Anyway, last night was the worst. It did not start out bad; I actually went to bed early. The Browns were playing the Bengals, but Cheryl and my mom had the television monopolized with a Hallmark movie. If you have never seen a Hallmark movie, you are not missing anything. Every plot is the same.
Let me take a crack at this...
This ruggedly handsome, down-to-earth guy meets snobby girl who is dating a co-worker, corporate fat cat. Both the girl and the Fat Cat think of nothing but their marketing jobs and their money. They put on heirs and take every opportunity to climb the corporate ladder.
Somehow, while Down-to-Earth Guy is delivering coffee to the office, Snobby Girl meets Down-to-Earth Guy for the first time. Thereafter, they can't stop bumping into each other, and they find themselves in various random situations together. Down-to-Earth Guy is cute and charming, but she could never be interested in a coffee delivery boy.
A big job hits a snag and Fat Cat has to leave girl at a restaurant. This is very disappointing because this was their first anniversary of dating. Girl realizes that Fat Cat will always choose his job over his girl. Fortunately, Down-to-Earth Guy just happens to be on his very last coffee delivery of the day to that very same restaurant where Snobby Girl got the boot... and he is there to soften the emotional blow.
As they chat over a nice cup of Jo, Girl realizes that Down-to-Earth Guy is not just a delivery boy, but the owner of the Coffee Shop, and he knows more about coffee than any other human being alive. All he needs in order to become a great success is... WAIT FOR IT... some good marketing. She pitches a few ideas and offers her services. Down-to-Earth Guy politely declines, knowing that she has no time, and he has no money to pay her.
Meanwhile, back on the big job that Fat Cat left Girl stranded for, Fat Cat realizes that he screwed something up... and instead of taking the blame, he blames Girl. The next day, she gets canned... at the very same time, Down-to-Earth Guy is delivering coffee to the office. Again, he is there to soften the blow.
Here is the good news, now she has nothing but time to help out with the coffee business and will be collecting unemployment. She can help get this business up and rolling... and does so for about a month. Things are going great and the coffee business is booming.
Fat Cat, seeing the tides a' turning, is none too happy. He makes himself seem big by making Down-to-Earth Guy seem small. He never misses an opportunity to humiliate and shame our hero.
Man... Fat Cat is a creep. They way he belittles coffee delivery boys... smugly pointing out to girl that he would never be caught dead doing such a menial task.
Well, Fat Cat gets his when the big boss finds out that it was Fat Cat's screw-up that messed up the big project and the only person that can fix it is our girl. She, of course, is a mental heap of jello, what with just finding out that Fat Cat threw her under the bus, enjoying her time with Down-to-Earth Guy and falling in love with him. She enjoys her time at the coffee shop but now she has been given the opportunity to get a promotion and be the corporate giant that she always envisioned for her life... complete with 8o hour work weeks and no time for Down-to-Earth Guy.
She reluctantly leaves the coffee shop to return to the corporate jungle and everyone is very sad. But on a good note, the big project was a success, Fat Cat got fired and Girl got a promotion. And Down-to-Earth Guy still gets to see her from afar in her office... as he makes his deliveries.
About a week later, Down-to-Earth Guy goes to deliver coffee to the Girl's office but she is not there. He inquires as to her whereabouts and is informed that she has resigned. Resigned! Where did she go. Nobody knows.
Heartbroken, he wanders the streets until finally finding his way back to the shop. Guess who is there... the Girl. She realized that money is not everything and true love only comes around once in a lifetime. If he will have her, she will be his new Marketing Director.
They hug and kiss and all is good in the world!
In the background, we see Fat Cat delivering coffee to the construction crew across the street.
Yes, all is truly good in the world.
Ah... Hallmark movies.
Now back to my sleep story. I fell asleep at about 10 p.m. and when Cheryl came up at about 11, I woke up. I could not fall back asleep... either that, or I fell asleep and was having dreams that I could not fall asleep. Either way... it was a nightmare.
I tossed and turned to no avail.
You know it was bout 4 a.m. before I finally got to sleep. You want to know how I finally was able to do it? I started to think that it would be pretty easy to write a Hallmark movie, and so I started to make up a plot in my head.
It wasn't very good though. It involved a Down-to-Earth Guy, a Snobby Girl and this Fat Cat. I nodded off before I could come up with any ideas.
Friday, November 6, 2015
Friday, October 30, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Wait, it's an election year? You don't say...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
In 1980, I turned eighteen and had my first opportunity to vote in a Presidential election. My choice was an easy one... Ronald Reagan ran against Jimmy Carter. I have to admit, I don't recall the primary process running for months and months. And if I recall it correctly (which I do because I just looked it up on Wickipedia), Reagan and Carter only had only one debate sponsored by the League of Women Voters.
It was at this debate that Reagan gave his now famous line Well, there you go again!... and Carter infamously stated that he had consulted with his then twelve-year-old daughter, Amy, about the biggest issue facing our country and she had responded that it was the control of nuclear arms.
In retrospect, she should have mentioned the economy or the hostages in Iran. Actually, in retrospect, the Democrats should have nominated Amy!
Reagan was the best... there I said it.
Voted for him twice and would have voted for him a third time if I could have. He was unapologetic in his positions. He was articulate. He was funny. He was smart. And unlike Donald Trump, he mainly attacked Democrats, and he did so in a fairly non-offensive funny way. For example... A recession is when your neighbor loses his job, a depression is when you lose your job and a recovery is when Jimmy Carter loses his!
It was an election that pitted optimism against pessimism. The results were kind of predictable.
Anyway, I bring all this up because I am completely fed up with Presidential politics. The first primary is still three months away and we have been hearing from these folks every day for the past year. Twelve months of hearing how this candidate is going to lower taxes, create jobs, save the economy, improve our education, defeat ISIS and give us everything we want at no cost to anybody... except the rich guys.
On a side note... has it occurred to anyone that the rich guys are rich for a reason. That they may figure out ways to avoid paying for everybody else's stuff or that if there were no personal incentive (wealth) associated with their rich guy idea, they might just decide to take a pass on the great idea and wait for someone else to come up with the idea... and then take that guy's money!
I digress.
I am sick of the coverage. I am sick of the commercials. I am sick of the speeches. And most of all. I am sick of the debates.
I have a proposal... combine the Republican debates with the Democratic debates. Put everyone up on the stage and make it a battle royal. I know what you are thinking... this can only work if we have a truly neutral debate moderator. If you don't know what I am talking about, then you haven't been paying attention.
For those of you that haven't been watching... or listening to talk radio... let me try to explain through some of my sort of made up questions...
Senator Rubio... I have looked at your tax plan and for this question, I have made up facts about your plan and I will misquote some conservative tax foundation that commented on your plan. Based on my made up facts and the misquoted comments of the tax foundation... your plan gives nearly twice as much of a gain in after-tax income to the top 1% as to people in the middle income scale. Don't you have it backward?
Turning to Senator Bernie Sanders... according to your plan, you figured that the top 1% will pay for all of our health care, all of our college education as well as all of our children's day care... was the math hard? It had to be hard, didn't it? Wow, are all socialists as smart as you?
Speaking of math, Ben Carson... I have had unnamed sources look at your plan and I have to ask... can you add and subtract... quick what is the square root of 78,996,544? You don't know... then why should we trust you with our economy.
Governor Kasich... say something bad about two other Republicans. To be fair, we will waive any time periods for your answer... GO!
Governor O'Malley... are you still here? Sing us a song.
Donald Trump... Are you a comic book version of a candidate? By the way... this one was not made up in any way.
President Clinton... ooh, did I say President Clinton, I meant Secretary Clinton... my bad. You testified before the Benghazi Committee and there were several revelations during your testimony but one thing still remains unanswered... Boxers or Briefs? And I ask that because you are the only woman on the stage and will be, er uh, could be this country's first female President and this is an important issue for many women. What's that? Carline Fiorina is a woman?
Ms. Fiorina, you were fired by a bunch of men at Hewlitt Packard... why would you let all the women of the United States down by being such a disappointment?
Senator Cruz... no sir, you just be quiet... I'll do the accusing here, thank you!
Finally, I would like to allow for all of the candidates to make a closing argument. Republicans, please address your greatest weakness and let the voters know why that weakness would disqualify you as President of the United States... and Democrats, please don't say anything to hurt Hillary's chances.
Man... I wish I could vote for Ronald Reagan again!
In 1980, I turned eighteen and had my first opportunity to vote in a Presidential election. My choice was an easy one... Ronald Reagan ran against Jimmy Carter. I have to admit, I don't recall the primary process running for months and months. And if I recall it correctly (which I do because I just looked it up on Wickipedia), Reagan and Carter only had only one debate sponsored by the League of Women Voters.
It was at this debate that Reagan gave his now famous line Well, there you go again!... and Carter infamously stated that he had consulted with his then twelve-year-old daughter, Amy, about the biggest issue facing our country and she had responded that it was the control of nuclear arms.
In retrospect, she should have mentioned the economy or the hostages in Iran. Actually, in retrospect, the Democrats should have nominated Amy!
Reagan was the best... there I said it.
Voted for him twice and would have voted for him a third time if I could have. He was unapologetic in his positions. He was articulate. He was funny. He was smart. And unlike Donald Trump, he mainly attacked Democrats, and he did so in a fairly non-offensive funny way. For example... A recession is when your neighbor loses his job, a depression is when you lose your job and a recovery is when Jimmy Carter loses his!
It was an election that pitted optimism against pessimism. The results were kind of predictable.
Anyway, I bring all this up because I am completely fed up with Presidential politics. The first primary is still three months away and we have been hearing from these folks every day for the past year. Twelve months of hearing how this candidate is going to lower taxes, create jobs, save the economy, improve our education, defeat ISIS and give us everything we want at no cost to anybody... except the rich guys.
On a side note... has it occurred to anyone that the rich guys are rich for a reason. That they may figure out ways to avoid paying for everybody else's stuff or that if there were no personal incentive (wealth) associated with their rich guy idea, they might just decide to take a pass on the great idea and wait for someone else to come up with the idea... and then take that guy's money!
I digress.
I am sick of the coverage. I am sick of the commercials. I am sick of the speeches. And most of all. I am sick of the debates.
I have a proposal... combine the Republican debates with the Democratic debates. Put everyone up on the stage and make it a battle royal. I know what you are thinking... this can only work if we have a truly neutral debate moderator. If you don't know what I am talking about, then you haven't been paying attention.
For those of you that haven't been watching... or listening to talk radio... let me try to explain through some of my sort of made up questions...
Senator Rubio... I have looked at your tax plan and for this question, I have made up facts about your plan and I will misquote some conservative tax foundation that commented on your plan. Based on my made up facts and the misquoted comments of the tax foundation... your plan gives nearly twice as much of a gain in after-tax income to the top 1% as to people in the middle income scale. Don't you have it backward?
Turning to Senator Bernie Sanders... according to your plan, you figured that the top 1% will pay for all of our health care, all of our college education as well as all of our children's day care... was the math hard? It had to be hard, didn't it? Wow, are all socialists as smart as you?
Speaking of math, Ben Carson... I have had unnamed sources look at your plan and I have to ask... can you add and subtract... quick what is the square root of 78,996,544? You don't know... then why should we trust you with our economy.
Governor Kasich... say something bad about two other Republicans. To be fair, we will waive any time periods for your answer... GO!
Governor O'Malley... are you still here? Sing us a song.
Donald Trump... Are you a comic book version of a candidate? By the way... this one was not made up in any way.
President Clinton... ooh, did I say President Clinton, I meant Secretary Clinton... my bad. You testified before the Benghazi Committee and there were several revelations during your testimony but one thing still remains unanswered... Boxers or Briefs? And I ask that because you are the only woman on the stage and will be, er uh, could be this country's first female President and this is an important issue for many women. What's that? Carline Fiorina is a woman?
Ms. Fiorina, you were fired by a bunch of men at Hewlitt Packard... why would you let all the women of the United States down by being such a disappointment?
Senator Cruz... no sir, you just be quiet... I'll do the accusing here, thank you!
Finally, I would like to allow for all of the candidates to make a closing argument. Republicans, please address your greatest weakness and let the voters know why that weakness would disqualify you as President of the United States... and Democrats, please don't say anything to hurt Hillary's chances.
Man... I wish I could vote for Ronald Reagan again!
Friday, October 23, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The king has spoken...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
So if you have been a regular reader of FGF, you know that laundry has been at the center of nearly every disagreement that Cheryl and I have had. Sure, it may start with some stupid comment that I make about homeschooling or the kids or plans to spend yet another evening with her family, but it quickly degenerates to my declaring that I don't have any clean underwear and it is a direct reflection on you!
Not sure how that happens but it does... last week was no different when I was forced to GASP!... wear my son's underwear. It was, of course, a direct reflection of my wife's refusal to provide regularly washed undergarments. I will neither confirm nor deny that I may, or may not have, mentioned this in the heat of battle.
Admittedly, kind of a rough comment but it bore results. Although at the time she may or may not have mentioned what I could do with my direct reflections.
The next day, Cheryl lit into the laundry like a windmill in a tornado. She got all of the dirty clothes into the wash and all of the clean clothes out of the laundry room. Then the next day, we had our once every three months housekeeper show up on the scene and our home was fit for a King!
I mention Kings because once I arrived home, I made a proclamation fit for a monarch. This new-found cleanliness was here to stay!
From this day forward, there will be no clothes left on the floors of the bathroom, the bedrooms or the hallway. All dirty clothes shall be placed in hampers and once the hamper is full, the clothes will be transported down to the laundry room. All clean clothes will be transported to your bedrooms and immediately placed in the appropriate drawer.
I was on a roll so I branched out on my declaration to include another of my pet peeves.
And this does not mean that we can stack everything on the stairs for a later time when we eventually make it up the steps. Nothing shall be stored on the steps. Besides this being a cleanliness issue, it is a health issue... I am going to trip and kill myself one day coming down the steps in the middle of the night and you are all going to be sorry.
There had to be consequences for any violations of the newly instituted law, so I continued...
Any clothes found on the floor or any time found on the stairwell, shall be thrown away, never to be heard from again.
So it is stated... So it shall be!!!
I was awesome... I was clear... I was authoritative... Yet, I was kind, The only thing missing was two guys dressed like fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me.
I was truly a benevolent dictator!
Everyone was present during my presentation so there was no getting around the rules. There would be no pleading of ignorance. I knew that my loyal subjects were well aware that a kingdom without rules will give rise to anarchy.
The citizens were happy and content and all was good in the kingdom... For about 12 hours.
I was shocked and dismayed to find underwear on the bathroom floor when I went to take my shower... THE VERY NEXT MORNING!
My investigation revealed that Matthew was the perp but he had already left for school... he was not there to incur my wrath. But someone had to hear about this insolent behavior. Cheryl was the closest.
How can he do this the morning after I told everyone what was going to happen?
What did he do?
He left his underwear on the bathroom floor!
So what.
So what? Did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I remember something you said about clothes.
And the stairs... I said something about the stairs also!
Well, put them in the hamper.
You don't get it... I made the announcement about this and now I need to throw away the underwear.
Don't do that, put them in the hamper.
No... consequences. There have to be consequences!
That is all that needed to be said.
That seems a little harsh.
Harsh... did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I know you said something... but not sure exactly what it was. You know you leave your suits all over the place... do we get to throw those away.
Maybe I do need those two guys dressed as fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me when I announce new rules.
I have not done that in over 12 hours... you remember 12 hours ago... oh that's right, you don't remember what I did 12 hours ago. That was the old me... now they get hung up.
Based on Cheryl's willingness to thumb her nose at all authority, I should not have been surprised to find her purse sitting at the bottom of the steps.
Consequences, there have to be consequences!
I took her purse and put it in the trash can.
Now to be honest, I placed the purse across the trash can, not actually in the trash can. I said I was a benevolent dictator... not a stupid dictator.
In fact, I called Cheryl to warn her of her consequences just in case she was looking for her purse. You know, two can play this game... you leave your clothes out, they are getting thrown away.
Okay, the game is on... who will be the first to crack? I have been through these wars before with Grace when she took my hair brush. You don't have what it takes to go to battle with me.
So it is game on, and I am winning 1-0. I found a woman's undergarment on the bedroom floor just the other day. To be fair, I put it there when I was sorting socks but it was clearly a woman's undergarment.
I am not sure that this will end well for me, but it keeps things tidy on our house. Our only hope to maintain this type of cleanliness is if our competitive natures are stronger than our sloppy, lazy natures.
Either way, I am in it to win it... even if I have to plant a bra or two around the house!
So if you have been a regular reader of FGF, you know that laundry has been at the center of nearly every disagreement that Cheryl and I have had. Sure, it may start with some stupid comment that I make about homeschooling or the kids or plans to spend yet another evening with her family, but it quickly degenerates to my declaring that I don't have any clean underwear and it is a direct reflection on you!
Not sure how that happens but it does... last week was no different when I was forced to GASP!... wear my son's underwear. It was, of course, a direct reflection of my wife's refusal to provide regularly washed undergarments. I will neither confirm nor deny that I may, or may not have, mentioned this in the heat of battle.
Admittedly, kind of a rough comment but it bore results. Although at the time she may or may not have mentioned what I could do with my direct reflections.
The next day, Cheryl lit into the laundry like a windmill in a tornado. She got all of the dirty clothes into the wash and all of the clean clothes out of the laundry room. Then the next day, we had our once every three months housekeeper show up on the scene and our home was fit for a King!
I mention Kings because once I arrived home, I made a proclamation fit for a monarch. This new-found cleanliness was here to stay!
From this day forward, there will be no clothes left on the floors of the bathroom, the bedrooms or the hallway. All dirty clothes shall be placed in hampers and once the hamper is full, the clothes will be transported down to the laundry room. All clean clothes will be transported to your bedrooms and immediately placed in the appropriate drawer.
I was on a roll so I branched out on my declaration to include another of my pet peeves.
And this does not mean that we can stack everything on the stairs for a later time when we eventually make it up the steps. Nothing shall be stored on the steps. Besides this being a cleanliness issue, it is a health issue... I am going to trip and kill myself one day coming down the steps in the middle of the night and you are all going to be sorry.
There had to be consequences for any violations of the newly instituted law, so I continued...
Any clothes found on the floor or any time found on the stairwell, shall be thrown away, never to be heard from again.
So it is stated... So it shall be!!!
I was awesome... I was clear... I was authoritative... Yet, I was kind, The only thing missing was two guys dressed like fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me.
I was truly a benevolent dictator!
Everyone was present during my presentation so there was no getting around the rules. There would be no pleading of ignorance. I knew that my loyal subjects were well aware that a kingdom without rules will give rise to anarchy.
The citizens were happy and content and all was good in the kingdom... For about 12 hours.
I was shocked and dismayed to find underwear on the bathroom floor when I went to take my shower... THE VERY NEXT MORNING!
My investigation revealed that Matthew was the perp but he had already left for school... he was not there to incur my wrath. But someone had to hear about this insolent behavior. Cheryl was the closest.
How can he do this the morning after I told everyone what was going to happen?
What did he do?
He left his underwear on the bathroom floor!
So what.
So what? Did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I remember something you said about clothes.
And the stairs... I said something about the stairs also!
Well, put them in the hamper.
You don't get it... I made the announcement about this and now I need to throw away the underwear.
Don't do that, put them in the hamper.
No... consequences. There have to be consequences!
That is all that needed to be said.
That seems a little harsh.
Harsh... did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I know you said something... but not sure exactly what it was. You know you leave your suits all over the place... do we get to throw those away.
Maybe I do need those two guys dressed as fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me when I announce new rules.
I have not done that in over 12 hours... you remember 12 hours ago... oh that's right, you don't remember what I did 12 hours ago. That was the old me... now they get hung up.
Based on Cheryl's willingness to thumb her nose at all authority, I should not have been surprised to find her purse sitting at the bottom of the steps.
Consequences, there have to be consequences!
I took her purse and put it in the trash can.
Now to be honest, I placed the purse across the trash can, not actually in the trash can. I said I was a benevolent dictator... not a stupid dictator.
In fact, I called Cheryl to warn her of her consequences just in case she was looking for her purse. You know, two can play this game... you leave your clothes out, they are getting thrown away.
Okay, the game is on... who will be the first to crack? I have been through these wars before with Grace when she took my hair brush. You don't have what it takes to go to battle with me.
So it is game on, and I am winning 1-0. I found a woman's undergarment on the bedroom floor just the other day. To be fair, I put it there when I was sorting socks but it was clearly a woman's undergarment.
I am not sure that this will end well for me, but it keeps things tidy on our house. Our only hope to maintain this type of cleanliness is if our competitive natures are stronger than our sloppy, lazy natures.
Either way, I am in it to win it... even if I have to plant a bra or two around the house!
Friday, October 16, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Roll Tide...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
About five years ago, my friend, Billy, invited me to join him in Alabama for a University of Alabama football game. Billy's father graduated from Alabama and his family has had season tickets for several years. He goes to three or four games every year and is very generous in sharing any extra tickets.
My first trip was four years ago and I am here to report that it is unlike any other sporting event that I have ever attended. I am a graduate of the University of Maryland and have attended many Terrapin football games. In recent years, while Maryland has had little competition when it comes to the "battle of the uniform," they have struggled on the field. But even when they were playing in... and often times winning big games... the Maryland experience was much different.
Not to be mean to my Alma Mater but a one-word description of Maryland games when compared to Alabama games is J.V.
At least I think J. V. is one word. On second thought maybe it is two words... Junior Varsity.
After my first visit, I thought that if I ever had the opportunity, I would take my two boys. Fortunately, this year, Billy had three extra tickets. In fact, he got his hands on five extra tickets so I asked my nephew if he wanted to take his wife, Jess, who is a big 'Bama fan. Although my nephew elected to stay home, Jess happily accepted the offer and invited her father to join us.
So this year, six of us boarded a plane on Friday morning and set off for a football weekend.
Once we landed, we headed straight for the campus. We hit a few stores to purchase our game day gear. Matthew and I had made the trip before so we have our swag... my sweatshirt has a big "A" on the front. Everyone in Alabama knows this distinctive "A" but just about everyone else in the country thinks that I am a big fan of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
Matthew purchased a new Crimson Tide shirt to go along with his previously purchased sweat shirt along with a baseball cap. Noah went in a different direction. Noah selected a houndstooth hat. Houndstooth is Tuscaloosa's favorite color. Their legendary coach, Paul "Bear" Bryant wore a similar hat while he patrolled the sidelines. Noah correctly pointed out that the hat was actually checkered... please don't tell the folks in Alabama.
If you're not sure if Bear Bryant is a legend, you can go past Bear Bryant High School and get to the campus. Once there, you can make a right on Bear Bryant Way, a left on Bear Bryant Lane, take another right on Bear Bryant Boulevard and then park outside of the Paul Bear Bryant Museum. The woman in the houndstooth skirt will fill you in!
After shopping, we made our way to the Walk of Champions. This is the walkway that the team crosses before every game. Every National Championship team member has their name engraved in the walkway. Great names like Joe Namath, Dwight Stevenson, Lee Roy Jordan and Young Boozer. Actually, I never heard of Young Boozer but his name was in the walkway and I think it is a great name for a college kid!
Then we made our way over to The Walk of Fame at Denny Chimes. Every Alabama captain since 1947 has had their hand and foot prints placed in cement. More great names like Ozzie Newsome, Cornelius Bennett, Derrick Thomas and Drunk Guard.
I have to admit, I made up that last name just to see if you are paying attention.
After visiting Denny Chimes, we searched for our tailgate tent. There are hundreds, if not thousands of tents set up for the next day's game. Wherever there is a blade of grass, you will find a tent. The University provides electricity for each tent so most tents have a flat screen set up for viewing other SEC football games or if you are not one of the 101,000 fans lucky enough to have a ticket to the game, you can watch it on campus.
Once we found our tent, we decided to get ribs at Dreamland. If you think that Dreamland is the perfect name for a nice restaurant that provides a world famous dining experience... you would be wrong. It is a world-famous dining experience but the place is a dump. A dump located right across from a run-down trailer park.
When we sat down, Jess asked about the menus. I pointed to the chalk board and told her... there is your menu... do you want a half slab or a whole slab and do you want a piece of sausage? I will say, they have added sides since I was last here.
Those are the only two dishes sold at Dreamland. They do have appetizers, if you count white bread as an appetizer. The locals rave about the white bread. To me, it tasted just like any other white bread... until you dunked it in the delicious sauce. They could serve sponges as an appetizer as long as they serve them with that sauce.
The food is unbelievable. If you only serve two things, it had better be delicious... and it is.
The dessert menu has only one item... banana pudding. It does not disappoint. I am not exaggerating when I say, from the time that they placed our paper plates in front of us, to the time we paid our bill, about twenty five minutes elapsed.
Dreamland does not disappoint.
Now, at this point we were stuffed and we were tired so we should have headed back to the hotel. But this trip was different... this trip included Jess. Jess is a lot like Cheryl. She always has a smile on her face. She is always upbeat. She always finds something positive about even the worst circumstance. Yep, she can be just as annoying as Cheryl.
At one point, I told Matthew that Jess reminded me of his mother, except she has a lot more energy than your mother.
So after stuffing our faces in preparation for our nap, a nap that I am 100% sure that my lovely wife would have been all in favor of, Jess suggested that we go bowling. We have to do something!
Sleeping is something! Isn't it?
Oh yeah, one difference between Cheryl and Jess that I forgot to mention... Jess is a lot more competitive than Cheryl. Behind that perpetual smile lies the heart of a killer! Our day ended after two hard fought games. Luckily, I was on her team!
Saturday's game started at 6:00 p.m. Which meant that we had to get to the campus by 11:00 a.m. That's right... seven hours before kick off. And get this... we were late! The tailgate parties start early and they run all day long. By the time the game started, we were exhausted. Noah nearly fell asleep in the first half. If I had not sprung for the chips and queso, we would have lost him.
In some ways, the game is anti-climatic. The events leading up to the games are exhausting.
Billy takes great pleasure in setting up the weekend's events and then being a personal tour guide. He enjoys that others have a great time.
Alabama won big over Arkansas. We had a blast. We made it home safe and sound.
Roll Tide!
About five years ago, my friend, Billy, invited me to join him in Alabama for a University of Alabama football game. Billy's father graduated from Alabama and his family has had season tickets for several years. He goes to three or four games every year and is very generous in sharing any extra tickets.
My first trip was four years ago and I am here to report that it is unlike any other sporting event that I have ever attended. I am a graduate of the University of Maryland and have attended many Terrapin football games. In recent years, while Maryland has had little competition when it comes to the "battle of the uniform," they have struggled on the field. But even when they were playing in... and often times winning big games... the Maryland experience was much different.
Not to be mean to my Alma Mater but a one-word description of Maryland games when compared to Alabama games is J.V.
At least I think J. V. is one word. On second thought maybe it is two words... Junior Varsity.
After my first visit, I thought that if I ever had the opportunity, I would take my two boys. Fortunately, this year, Billy had three extra tickets. In fact, he got his hands on five extra tickets so I asked my nephew if he wanted to take his wife, Jess, who is a big 'Bama fan. Although my nephew elected to stay home, Jess happily accepted the offer and invited her father to join us.
So this year, six of us boarded a plane on Friday morning and set off for a football weekend.
Once we landed, we headed straight for the campus. We hit a few stores to purchase our game day gear. Matthew and I had made the trip before so we have our swag... my sweatshirt has a big "A" on the front. Everyone in Alabama knows this distinctive "A" but just about everyone else in the country thinks that I am a big fan of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
Matthew purchased a new Crimson Tide shirt to go along with his previously purchased sweat shirt along with a baseball cap. Noah went in a different direction. Noah selected a houndstooth hat. Houndstooth is Tuscaloosa's favorite color. Their legendary coach, Paul "Bear" Bryant wore a similar hat while he patrolled the sidelines. Noah correctly pointed out that the hat was actually checkered... please don't tell the folks in Alabama.
If you're not sure if Bear Bryant is a legend, you can go past Bear Bryant High School and get to the campus. Once there, you can make a right on Bear Bryant Way, a left on Bear Bryant Lane, take another right on Bear Bryant Boulevard and then park outside of the Paul Bear Bryant Museum. The woman in the houndstooth skirt will fill you in!
After shopping, we made our way to the Walk of Champions. This is the walkway that the team crosses before every game. Every National Championship team member has their name engraved in the walkway. Great names like Joe Namath, Dwight Stevenson, Lee Roy Jordan and Young Boozer. Actually, I never heard of Young Boozer but his name was in the walkway and I think it is a great name for a college kid!
Then we made our way over to The Walk of Fame at Denny Chimes. Every Alabama captain since 1947 has had their hand and foot prints placed in cement. More great names like Ozzie Newsome, Cornelius Bennett, Derrick Thomas and Drunk Guard.
I have to admit, I made up that last name just to see if you are paying attention.
After visiting Denny Chimes, we searched for our tailgate tent. There are hundreds, if not thousands of tents set up for the next day's game. Wherever there is a blade of grass, you will find a tent. The University provides electricity for each tent so most tents have a flat screen set up for viewing other SEC football games or if you are not one of the 101,000 fans lucky enough to have a ticket to the game, you can watch it on campus.
Once we found our tent, we decided to get ribs at Dreamland. If you think that Dreamland is the perfect name for a nice restaurant that provides a world famous dining experience... you would be wrong. It is a world-famous dining experience but the place is a dump. A dump located right across from a run-down trailer park.
When we sat down, Jess asked about the menus. I pointed to the chalk board and told her... there is your menu... do you want a half slab or a whole slab and do you want a piece of sausage? I will say, they have added sides since I was last here.
Those are the only two dishes sold at Dreamland. They do have appetizers, if you count white bread as an appetizer. The locals rave about the white bread. To me, it tasted just like any other white bread... until you dunked it in the delicious sauce. They could serve sponges as an appetizer as long as they serve them with that sauce.
The food is unbelievable. If you only serve two things, it had better be delicious... and it is.
The dessert menu has only one item... banana pudding. It does not disappoint. I am not exaggerating when I say, from the time that they placed our paper plates in front of us, to the time we paid our bill, about twenty five minutes elapsed.
Dreamland does not disappoint.
Now, at this point we were stuffed and we were tired so we should have headed back to the hotel. But this trip was different... this trip included Jess. Jess is a lot like Cheryl. She always has a smile on her face. She is always upbeat. She always finds something positive about even the worst circumstance. Yep, she can be just as annoying as Cheryl.
At one point, I told Matthew that Jess reminded me of his mother, except she has a lot more energy than your mother.
So after stuffing our faces in preparation for our nap, a nap that I am 100% sure that my lovely wife would have been all in favor of, Jess suggested that we go bowling. We have to do something!
Sleeping is something! Isn't it?
Oh yeah, one difference between Cheryl and Jess that I forgot to mention... Jess is a lot more competitive than Cheryl. Behind that perpetual smile lies the heart of a killer! Our day ended after two hard fought games. Luckily, I was on her team!
Saturday's game started at 6:00 p.m. Which meant that we had to get to the campus by 11:00 a.m. That's right... seven hours before kick off. And get this... we were late! The tailgate parties start early and they run all day long. By the time the game started, we were exhausted. Noah nearly fell asleep in the first half. If I had not sprung for the chips and queso, we would have lost him.
In some ways, the game is anti-climatic. The events leading up to the games are exhausting.
Billy takes great pleasure in setting up the weekend's events and then being a personal tour guide. He enjoys that others have a great time.
Alabama won big over Arkansas. We had a blast. We made it home safe and sound.
Roll Tide!
Friday, October 9, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The ol' gray gal...
She feels that this will free her from expensive dye jobs and constant upkeep. More than that though, she just wants to be who she is... just be herself.
I have heard of men going through a mid-life crisis and doing whatever they can do to recapture their youth, but I have no explanation for a woman assisting nature with speeding up the aging process.
Cheryl sees herself as a trendsetter, and I must admit, I have heard several women wish her well... as if she were getting ready to embark on a battle with some life changing illness or something.
Personally, I am delighted by her decision because it makes me look much younger than she. People think she is a cougar going after a man nearly half her age. They all say... Man, her husband looks good, and she is lucky to get a man that is half her age.
They haven't actually said that stuff, but I am pretty sure that they are all thinking it!
The other day, I called Cheryl from work and she told me that her sister had just left our home. Cheryl mentioned that said sister had just gone the beauty parlor and had had her hair done with highlights and a series of other "tune ups" which made her look very pretty and young as ever, Cheryl joked, knowing that I tease her about her growout.
She looks 'young as ever'? She just wants to look good for her man.
Oh sure, by keeping herself looking young. Good thing I don't have to worry about that. Wink.
Well, you may be singing a different tune when I take off with some twenty-four-year-old hottie.
You think so? Are you still taking the boys to Alabama this weekend for the big football game? ... an obvious attempt to change the topic from the uncomfortable thought of losing me to a younger woman.
Yeah, we leave Friday, why are you asking me that? You know we are going.
When are you coming home?
Sunday morning. Why all the focus on my schedule?
Because I want to be sure that I would have enough time to pack up all of your and your mom's stuff and put it out on the curb! You know... if I had to.
Wait... wait... why would you pack up my poor ol' mother and boot her out of the house? That hardly seems fair to her.
Well, I thought that your twenty-four-year-old would love the opportunity to take care of you... and your mom. Plus you'd need your mom along to do your laundry.
Noah reported that Cheryl smiled and winked at him when she said all of this, but I am not sure. I think that she thinks that my leaving her for an imaginary twenty-four-year-old would not work out very well for me. This, of course, got me to thinking about some of the other stuff that my imaginary twenty-four-year-old might not do that Cheryl does.
Here is a short list:
She wouldn't iron my shirts every morning. Cheryl, and all of her gray hair, gets up every morning and irons a shirt for me. Cheryl is very nice!
She wouldn't be able to help Matthew with his Algebra II/Trig and Chemistry homework. Remember, my young girlfriend is a hottie and I did not fall for her for her mind. To be fair, I can't help Matthew with his homework and I am amazed that Cheryl can. She looks at Matthew's books and learns the material well enough to teach it. I am not sure that she ever took those subjects in high school or college. The old gray gal is very smart!
The fake girl wouldn't homeschool Noah. Same reason as why she can't help Matthew. In fact, my girl can't add or subtract which is good because I am going to keep telling her that I am only ten years her elder.
She wouldn't be able to give my daughter any insight on any problems that she may be having. Cheryl is pretty wise about girlie stuff and always gives great advice. You know, when you think about it, my fake girlfriend is only five years older than my daughter. OOOH! That is gross!
Alright, I have changed my mind, I am staying with Cheryl.
Besides, I really do love the gray.
But this is nothing new. Do you remember the movie the Ten Commandments when Moses left Egypt and in doing so also left beautiful dark haired Nefretiri? Moses ended up marrying the shepherd's eldest daughter with her salt and pepper grayish hair... which she probably put up in a bun with a number 2 pencil... much like some other gray-haired girl that we all know and love.
Anyway, I always thought that the shepherd's daughter was way prettier than Nefretiri. I would have chosen her every time.
The fact is, I will love Cheryl no matter what she does with her hair. I am content to grow old... but not at the same pace as Cheryl... with my cougar wife.
Did you know that the woman who played Moses' wife was Yvonne DeCarlo. Did you know that Yvonne DeCarlo also starred as Lily Munster in the TV show The Munsters.
Can you imagine what people will think if Cheryl ends up looking like Lily Munster. I will tell you what they will think... Man her husband looks good and she is lucky to get a man half her age.
This gray hair thing is working out well for both of us.
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| Sephora, The Ten Commandments |
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| Lily Munster |
Friday, October 2, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The Lunch Date...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
I feel bad. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. I never thought I would be "that guy."
Fortunately, I am always honest so I immediately confessed my transgression to Cheryl. I certainly would not ever want to hurt her, but I have discovered that some things are just out of my control... some things are just bigger than... well, bigger than my relationship with my wife.
There I said it!
What did I do that is causing me so much angst... I went on a lunch date with someone other than my wife. And the worse part was that I had a great time.
To be fair, I did not intend to go on this date. I did not even initiate the date. I didn't even want to go on the date. But I did... and now I fear that there is no turning back.
It all started about three months ago when we hired two young gals to work as associates in our office. Both Karen and Stephanie are smart, pretty young attorneys that had clerked for two of our county's circuit court judges. I had interacted with them on several occasions before hiring them but never really had the opportunity to spend any significant time with them. One thing I can say for sure is that everyone that meets them, loves them. We are lucky to have them, and we are sure that they will be a great addition to our office.
Part of their training includes having to follow me around and help me with my cases. They have gotten to see how I maneuver my way through the legal field, and I don't want to brag or anything but... I can be quite impressive.
Not really. I am pretty ordinary, but they are new and don't know any better!
As you might guess, over the past months, having spent so much time with both of them, we have gotten to know each other pretty well. We seem to be getting along and working together quite succesfully.
Typically, after handling our morning cases, we go our separate ways for lunch, but this last Wednesday, as they were heading out to grab a bite, they asked if I would like to join them.
Honestly, I really did not want to go, but they had asked... and we had been working pretty hard over the past few months. I thought it would be a good gesture to join them. It also thought it might be a good opportunity, outside of the office, for them to ask me any questions that they have been contemplating or voice any concerns that they may be facing.
Before we left, I had to meet a client, so I told them to go on ahead and I would join them as soon as I finished.
When I finally entered the restaurant, I was a bit surprised to find a third person sitting at the table. A person that I had never met. Had they not seen me, I would have turned around and walked out... but it was too late. Now I felt like I was kind of intruding.
This third person was similar to the two associates... young, attractive, and seemed pretty smart. I said hello and complimented his outfit.
That's right, I said his outfit. "She" was a guy and it was pretty clear that he was interested in one of the girls. It then dawned on me that I was the fourth wheel in this luncheon. Typically, this would be called a double date with four people, but in this case, I was just a fourth wheel... an old worn out fourth wheel.
Over the next forty five minutes, I had to figure out what in the world was I going to talk about with these three people who were young enough to be my children... and two of the three were on a real live lunch date.
I don't remember the new kid's name... I think it was Carl... but I do remember that he was wearing his Redskin hat backwards (a sure sign of youth) and a Redskin shirt.
Nice outfit! I actually said outfit because that is what my wife would say. I have now become the old guy that starts to sound like his wife. No single guy would ever refer to another guy's get-up as an outfit. I regretted my choice of words. I should have led with... Wasssup brah? but I didn't.
Huh, oh yeah. You a fan?
Yeah, but it keeps getting tougher and tougher to hang in there with them.
Gotta hang in there.
Thanks for the sage advise whippersnapper. Let me tell you something... I suffered through more losses in my day than you can possibly imagine, so don't lecture me on the proper fan etiquette. Keep your little advice to yourself.
I didn't say all that... But I was thinking it!
I was going to tell him how great it used to be back in the day when they were winning Super Bowls, but I quickly changed course when I realized that reminiscing about the "good old days" was the last thing that I wanted to do at this point. This joker probably wasn't even alive when the Redskins won their last Super Bowl.
So what do you do? I politely asked... trying to make some small talk.
I am a firefighter.
Wow, that seems pretty cool. I could see my son doing that someday. Out of curiosity, did you take any special classes or do any special training to become a firefighter?
Well, not really... I played baseball in college.
Wait... What? Where did you go to college?
It turns out, he went to the same college as a couple of kids that I had coached. And it turns out that not only did he know them, he roomed with one of them. They are the best of friends. And it turns out, that he was home-schooled and played high school baseball for a long-time friend of our family. And it turns out that through his firefighting and baseball, he was familiar with many of the same people that I knew, including my brother and nephews. And get this... the more we talked, the more we had in common. It turns out that when he was 12 years old, he played for a team that I coached against.
What a small world!
It turned out that he and I talked throughout the entire lunch. Ol' Karen and whatshername could not get a word in edgewise. Apparently, they did not have as much in common with Carl as I.
The four of us spent an entire lunch together... at least I think that Karen and Stephanie stuck around... and I saw no evidence of any connection between Stephanie and Carl.
Frankly, I am ashamed to admit, I sat and monopolized all of his time. I did not think of Stephanie or Karen one bit.
Here is what I do know... Carl and I had a great time.
When we finally got back to the office, I inquired as to what was Carl's deal. It turns out that he may have been a teensy bit interested in Stephanie and arranged for that lunch date. Whatever!
I apologized for hogging him, but I've got to be honest... he never even glanced her way the whole time we were talking.
After my sincere apology, I did try to clear one thing up... I asked Stephanie if she were not interested, would she mind if I went out to lunch with him again.
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
In fact, I apologized again today and Stephanie said no problem. She told me that he thought that I was pretty cool.
Wait, did you ask him... or did he just out of the blue just say that I was cool. And did he say pretty cool or really cool?
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
I am a happily married man and have plenty of friends. And if all that goes up in smoke...
I can always look back and fondly recall... The Lunch Date!
I feel bad. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. I never thought I would be "that guy."
Fortunately, I am always honest so I immediately confessed my transgression to Cheryl. I certainly would not ever want to hurt her, but I have discovered that some things are just out of my control... some things are just bigger than... well, bigger than my relationship with my wife.
There I said it!
What did I do that is causing me so much angst... I went on a lunch date with someone other than my wife. And the worse part was that I had a great time.
To be fair, I did not intend to go on this date. I did not even initiate the date. I didn't even want to go on the date. But I did... and now I fear that there is no turning back.
It all started about three months ago when we hired two young gals to work as associates in our office. Both Karen and Stephanie are smart, pretty young attorneys that had clerked for two of our county's circuit court judges. I had interacted with them on several occasions before hiring them but never really had the opportunity to spend any significant time with them. One thing I can say for sure is that everyone that meets them, loves them. We are lucky to have them, and we are sure that they will be a great addition to our office.
Part of their training includes having to follow me around and help me with my cases. They have gotten to see how I maneuver my way through the legal field, and I don't want to brag or anything but... I can be quite impressive.
Not really. I am pretty ordinary, but they are new and don't know any better!
As you might guess, over the past months, having spent so much time with both of them, we have gotten to know each other pretty well. We seem to be getting along and working together quite succesfully.
Typically, after handling our morning cases, we go our separate ways for lunch, but this last Wednesday, as they were heading out to grab a bite, they asked if I would like to join them.
Honestly, I really did not want to go, but they had asked... and we had been working pretty hard over the past few months. I thought it would be a good gesture to join them. It also thought it might be a good opportunity, outside of the office, for them to ask me any questions that they have been contemplating or voice any concerns that they may be facing.
Before we left, I had to meet a client, so I told them to go on ahead and I would join them as soon as I finished.
When I finally entered the restaurant, I was a bit surprised to find a third person sitting at the table. A person that I had never met. Had they not seen me, I would have turned around and walked out... but it was too late. Now I felt like I was kind of intruding.
This third person was similar to the two associates... young, attractive, and seemed pretty smart. I said hello and complimented his outfit.
That's right, I said his outfit. "She" was a guy and it was pretty clear that he was interested in one of the girls. It then dawned on me that I was the fourth wheel in this luncheon. Typically, this would be called a double date with four people, but in this case, I was just a fourth wheel... an old worn out fourth wheel.
Over the next forty five minutes, I had to figure out what in the world was I going to talk about with these three people who were young enough to be my children... and two of the three were on a real live lunch date.
I don't remember the new kid's name... I think it was Carl... but I do remember that he was wearing his Redskin hat backwards (a sure sign of youth) and a Redskin shirt.
Nice outfit! I actually said outfit because that is what my wife would say. I have now become the old guy that starts to sound like his wife. No single guy would ever refer to another guy's get-up as an outfit. I regretted my choice of words. I should have led with... Wasssup brah? but I didn't.
Huh, oh yeah. You a fan?
Yeah, but it keeps getting tougher and tougher to hang in there with them.
Gotta hang in there.
Thanks for the sage advise whippersnapper. Let me tell you something... I suffered through more losses in my day than you can possibly imagine, so don't lecture me on the proper fan etiquette. Keep your little advice to yourself.
I didn't say all that... But I was thinking it!
I was going to tell him how great it used to be back in the day when they were winning Super Bowls, but I quickly changed course when I realized that reminiscing about the "good old days" was the last thing that I wanted to do at this point. This joker probably wasn't even alive when the Redskins won their last Super Bowl.
So what do you do? I politely asked... trying to make some small talk.
I am a firefighter.
Wow, that seems pretty cool. I could see my son doing that someday. Out of curiosity, did you take any special classes or do any special training to become a firefighter?
Well, not really... I played baseball in college.
Wait... What? Where did you go to college?
It turns out, he went to the same college as a couple of kids that I had coached. And it turns out that not only did he know them, he roomed with one of them. They are the best of friends. And it turns out, that he was home-schooled and played high school baseball for a long-time friend of our family. And it turns out that through his firefighting and baseball, he was familiar with many of the same people that I knew, including my brother and nephews. And get this... the more we talked, the more we had in common. It turns out that when he was 12 years old, he played for a team that I coached against.
What a small world!
It turned out that he and I talked throughout the entire lunch. Ol' Karen and whatshername could not get a word in edgewise. Apparently, they did not have as much in common with Carl as I.
The four of us spent an entire lunch together... at least I think that Karen and Stephanie stuck around... and I saw no evidence of any connection between Stephanie and Carl.
Frankly, I am ashamed to admit, I sat and monopolized all of his time. I did not think of Stephanie or Karen one bit.
Here is what I do know... Carl and I had a great time.
When we finally got back to the office, I inquired as to what was Carl's deal. It turns out that he may have been a teensy bit interested in Stephanie and arranged for that lunch date. Whatever!
I apologized for hogging him, but I've got to be honest... he never even glanced her way the whole time we were talking.
After my sincere apology, I did try to clear one thing up... I asked Stephanie if she were not interested, would she mind if I went out to lunch with him again.
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
In fact, I apologized again today and Stephanie said no problem. She told me that he thought that I was pretty cool.
Wait, did you ask him... or did he just out of the blue just say that I was cool. And did he say pretty cool or really cool?
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
I am a happily married man and have plenty of friends. And if all that goes up in smoke...
I can always look back and fondly recall... The Lunch Date!
Friday, September 25, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Of popes and orange juice...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
When Matthew was six or seven years old, one day after church, we went to Cheryl's parents' home for brunch. My mother-in-law served us some juice and got us a plate of food. Matthew was uncharacteristically grumpy and out of sorts. I asked him what was bothering him, but he had no good answer.
When Matthew was six or seven years old, one day after church, we went to Cheryl's parents' home for brunch. My mother-in-law served us some juice and got us a plate of food. Matthew was uncharacteristically grumpy and out of sorts. I asked him what was bothering him, but he had no good answer.
After a few minutes, I had had enough of his attitude and asked him to step into another room. I asked him what was bothering him...
I hate the Pope!
What? You don't like the Pope?
Nope.
Why not?
I dunno... I just don't like the Pope.
The head of the Catholic Church... You don't like him?
No... not that guy... the stuff in the orange juice.
Okay... that is called pulp... and you can go get yourself some milk.
Problem solved.
Now I have my own Pope problem. He came to town and I was completely shut out. The Pope came to town and I did not get a sniff of the guy. No Masses, no speeches, no glimpse of His Holiness in his little Pope Mobile.
No sir... I did not get the Willie Wonka ticket!
And if Facebook is any indication, everyone else did get the golden ticket and had the opportunity to hang out with Il Papa.
Seriously... friends, neighbors, and fellow parish members were all over the place,
And you can say what you want about his agenda (which I will in a minute) but he makes himself available to the people. It got to the point that I thought that the folks were passing around the church's cardboard cutout of the guy.
He even left all of those powerful politicians on the Senate floor and had breakfast with the homeless. My guess is that he wanted to go someplace quieter where people weren't begging him for money!
Seriously, this dude is like a rock star playing venues in Washington, D.C., New York City, and Philadelphia. Like an old, slow talking, energetic rock star. Picture Mick Jagger with an accent... a Spanish accent, not his regular British one.
I don't understand why I did not get selected to attend any of the three days' worth of events. I attend church every week. I give money every week. I even run that stupid Labor Day Festival for the church every year. That has to be worth something.
You know, I was even at the church the night that they picked out the lucky winners of the tickets to attend the Papal Mass. I specifically told them how to spell my last name. Still... nothing!
It has to be Cheryl... clearly, she is not doing enough.
Truth be told, it could be my fault. You see, the Pope and I don't see eye to eye on everything. Ever since he was selected, he has stopped consulting me on various issues. As a result, he has said some things that I do not agree with.
Some folks tried to attribute these statements to "getting lost in translation." And I accepted that... the first time. The third, fourth and fifth time, I came to my own conclusion that he really meant what he was saying.
Now don't get me wrong, I am not out there declaring that the Emperor has no clothes. I am just saying that I don't like all of the clothes that he wears and... I wish that he would wear more of the clothes that I like.
And I have to admit, I am really struggling with this.
Like all Catholics, I go to confession once a week, er, uh month.... Okay I go about three or four times a year. One thing that I have discussed with the priest is that I get frustrated with things and want them to be the way that I want them. I am always reminded that it is not my will that shall be done but His will that shall be done.
God has seen to it that this Pope will have this position at this time, and God has his own plan, whatever it may be. I just wish that the Pope was more direct about the life of the unborn when he spoke before Congress.... Dang it! There I go again!
Truth be told, I am sure that in D.C., he made almost every politician squirm just a little bit and that's not such a bad thing.
God's plan will be revealed and I need to be open to whatever that plan may be. Pray for me. Pray for Pope Francis.
No sir... I did not get the Willie Wonka ticket!
And if Facebook is any indication, everyone else did get the golden ticket and had the opportunity to hang out with Il Papa.
Seriously... friends, neighbors, and fellow parish members were all over the place,
And you can say what you want about his agenda (which I will in a minute) but he makes himself available to the people. It got to the point that I thought that the folks were passing around the church's cardboard cutout of the guy.
He even left all of those powerful politicians on the Senate floor and had breakfast with the homeless. My guess is that he wanted to go someplace quieter where people weren't begging him for money!
Seriously, this dude is like a rock star playing venues in Washington, D.C., New York City, and Philadelphia. Like an old, slow talking, energetic rock star. Picture Mick Jagger with an accent... a Spanish accent, not his regular British one.
I don't understand why I did not get selected to attend any of the three days' worth of events. I attend church every week. I give money every week. I even run that stupid Labor Day Festival for the church every year. That has to be worth something.
You know, I was even at the church the night that they picked out the lucky winners of the tickets to attend the Papal Mass. I specifically told them how to spell my last name. Still... nothing!
It has to be Cheryl... clearly, she is not doing enough.
Truth be told, it could be my fault. You see, the Pope and I don't see eye to eye on everything. Ever since he was selected, he has stopped consulting me on various issues. As a result, he has said some things that I do not agree with.
Some folks tried to attribute these statements to "getting lost in translation." And I accepted that... the first time. The third, fourth and fifth time, I came to my own conclusion that he really meant what he was saying.
Now don't get me wrong, I am not out there declaring that the Emperor has no clothes. I am just saying that I don't like all of the clothes that he wears and... I wish that he would wear more of the clothes that I like.
And I have to admit, I am really struggling with this.
Like all Catholics, I go to confession once a week, er, uh month.... Okay I go about three or four times a year. One thing that I have discussed with the priest is that I get frustrated with things and want them to be the way that I want them. I am always reminded that it is not my will that shall be done but His will that shall be done.
God has seen to it that this Pope will have this position at this time, and God has his own plan, whatever it may be. I just wish that the Pope was more direct about the life of the unborn when he spoke before Congress.... Dang it! There I go again!
Truth be told, I am sure that in D.C., he made almost every politician squirm just a little bit and that's not such a bad thing.
God's plan will be revealed and I need to be open to whatever that plan may be. Pray for me. Pray for Pope Francis.
Please understand that unlike my son, I do not hate the Pope.
But before I conclude I have to be completely honest about one thing. Although I am working on being less judgmental and open to God's will, I have to come clean on one thing...
I am not that crazy about the pulp!
But before I conclude I have to be completely honest about one thing. Although I am working on being less judgmental and open to God's will, I have to come clean on one thing...
I am not that crazy about the pulp!
Friday, September 18, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Can we please stick to the schedule?
Funny Guy Friday is written by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
I have to admit, it has been five years and I am still trying to figure out how homeschool works. Cheryl used to have all three of our kids home, but now there is only one... Noah. You would think that it would be easier... but I don't see it that way.
First of all, with only one kid, there should be less to plan. If you also thought that, you too would be wrong. The generals that planned the attack at Normandy Beach did less planning than Cheryl does for Noah's school day. She has worked for weeks tinkering to come up with the perfect schedule.
The schedule that she developed is not only functional... clearly laying out what days they will study what subject and at what time... but it is also beautiful. That baby is color-coded with eight separate colors, and as if that is not enough, it is laminated to add additional certainty.
I have reviewed the schedule, and Noah's days include such classic subjects as Math, World History, Geography and Music. But they also incorporate other non-conventional and grueling subjects as Play Time, Stretch, Quick Tidy and Quiet Time... and my personal favorite: Grocery Store. Not exactly sure what Grocery Store is but I like it... I think it means that Noah is making something good for dinner!
But those are not the only off-beat subjects. Noah starts every day at 8 a.m. with Morning Basket. I really don't know what Morning Basket is, but I think the "Basket" in Morning Basket is our bed. Why, you ask?... because every morning at 8:15 when I leave for work, both Noah and Cheryl are lying in my bed showing no signs of starting the day any time soon.
Noah actually starts his day at 7:15 a.m. when his new alarm clock sounds. That thing sounds like a bomb getting ready to blow. It only stops when I enter his room to turn it off because he sleeps right through it. The other two kids were able to sleep through their alarm clocks also... but not until their teenage years. Noah is only eleven, so he is advanced. I am so proud.
Sleep is important, so I usually don't wake him for another half hour, at which time he staggers into our room and lies in the spot previously occupied by yours truly. Both Cheryl and Noah claim that this is the beginning of an action-packed school day.
I am not so sure about that...
The other day, I came home early and both Noah and Cheryl were still lying in my bed. In fairness to Noah, he did have on different clothes so I have to assume that he got out of bed at some point during the day. As for Cheryl, let's just say that I cannot make that same assumption.
As I walked in the room and gave both teacher and student "the look", Noah looked up and said... Oh, Mom, we forgot to do school today!
And they wonder why I worry! I can only hope that he was kidding!
As I type this at 11 p.m. on Thursday, Noah and Cheryl are doing Math at the kitchen table. This cannot be! The schedule ends at 5 p.m. Well not exactly. From 5:00 until 9:00 he has Evening Basket.
Who knows... I stopped asking what this stuff is.
Whether the day ends at 5:00 or 9:00, Math at 11:00 is not part of the schedule.
I have tried to explain to anyone that will listen that the schedule only works if you stick to the schedule. If we disregard the schedule, we have home school anarchy!
They try to tell me that the beauty of homeschooling is the flexibility that it provides.
So why, then, do we need a schedule?
We have friends coming over tomorrow, so we want to get everything done tonight.
Wait, where is that on the schedule? There are no friends scheduled for tomorrow!
Oh Dad, you will never understand Home Schooling!
This is true. I may never understand Home Schooling. At least not tonight because it is late and I am tired.
It is 11:30 and my own personal schedule calls for some Evening Basket.
Two can play at this game!
I have to admit, it has been five years and I am still trying to figure out how homeschool works. Cheryl used to have all three of our kids home, but now there is only one... Noah. You would think that it would be easier... but I don't see it that way.
First of all, with only one kid, there should be less to plan. If you also thought that, you too would be wrong. The generals that planned the attack at Normandy Beach did less planning than Cheryl does for Noah's school day. She has worked for weeks tinkering to come up with the perfect schedule.
The schedule that she developed is not only functional... clearly laying out what days they will study what subject and at what time... but it is also beautiful. That baby is color-coded with eight separate colors, and as if that is not enough, it is laminated to add additional certainty.
I have reviewed the schedule, and Noah's days include such classic subjects as Math, World History, Geography and Music. But they also incorporate other non-conventional and grueling subjects as Play Time, Stretch, Quick Tidy and Quiet Time... and my personal favorite: Grocery Store. Not exactly sure what Grocery Store is but I like it... I think it means that Noah is making something good for dinner!
But those are not the only off-beat subjects. Noah starts every day at 8 a.m. with Morning Basket. I really don't know what Morning Basket is, but I think the "Basket" in Morning Basket is our bed. Why, you ask?... because every morning at 8:15 when I leave for work, both Noah and Cheryl are lying in my bed showing no signs of starting the day any time soon.
Noah actually starts his day at 7:15 a.m. when his new alarm clock sounds. That thing sounds like a bomb getting ready to blow. It only stops when I enter his room to turn it off because he sleeps right through it. The other two kids were able to sleep through their alarm clocks also... but not until their teenage years. Noah is only eleven, so he is advanced. I am so proud.
Sleep is important, so I usually don't wake him for another half hour, at which time he staggers into our room and lies in the spot previously occupied by yours truly. Both Cheryl and Noah claim that this is the beginning of an action-packed school day.
I am not so sure about that...
The other day, I came home early and both Noah and Cheryl were still lying in my bed. In fairness to Noah, he did have on different clothes so I have to assume that he got out of bed at some point during the day. As for Cheryl, let's just say that I cannot make that same assumption.
As I walked in the room and gave both teacher and student "the look", Noah looked up and said... Oh, Mom, we forgot to do school today!
And they wonder why I worry! I can only hope that he was kidding!
As I type this at 11 p.m. on Thursday, Noah and Cheryl are doing Math at the kitchen table. This cannot be! The schedule ends at 5 p.m. Well not exactly. From 5:00 until 9:00 he has Evening Basket.
Who knows... I stopped asking what this stuff is.
Whether the day ends at 5:00 or 9:00, Math at 11:00 is not part of the schedule.
I have tried to explain to anyone that will listen that the schedule only works if you stick to the schedule. If we disregard the schedule, we have home school anarchy!
They try to tell me that the beauty of homeschooling is the flexibility that it provides.
So why, then, do we need a schedule?
We have friends coming over tomorrow, so we want to get everything done tonight.
Wait, where is that on the schedule? There are no friends scheduled for tomorrow!
Oh Dad, you will never understand Home Schooling!
This is true. I may never understand Home Schooling. At least not tonight because it is late and I am tired.
It is 11:30 and my own personal schedule calls for some Evening Basket.
Two can play at this game!
Friday, September 11, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... In my dreams...
I rarely post stuff on Facebook, but this week was Cheryl's birthday, and I decided to post a little birthday shout out. I commented that I woke up mad at her on her birthday as a result of a recurring dream that I have had since the beginning of our marriage. In the dream, Cheryl refuses to go out with me... or we are dating, and she refuses to marry me.
It is always a different dream but with the similar theme.
In last night's dream, we were dating but she refused to commit to me for a lifetime. I finally decided that enough was enough, and I was going to give her an ultimatum. While she was waiting in line, I was going to tell her that she had to say yes right then or that would be that... I was going to be moving on... with or without her.
I am not sure what the significance of the line was... but I do recall that she was very happy to be in that line... which, for some reason, really irritated me.
Anyway, as I approached her, I started to waiver and instead of the ultimatum, I told her that no matter what she said or what she did, I was always going to want to marry her and I would always be there for her.
This was hardly the ultimatum that I had intended. In fact, it made me look kind of pathetic. Of course this made Cheryl smile and tell me: That's nice.
Ughhhh!
Cheryl then turned to the folks in line, none of whom I recognized, and began joking around and having fun.
Double Ughhh with a two fisted dang!
So, now you understand why I get mad at her. I mean she just ignored me and joked around with a bunch of people that I did not even know.
This is totally unacceptable behavior.
Several years ago, she irritated me in my dreams when she told me that she could not marry me because she was interested in dating some guy who was sitting at the bar where we were having dinner. She pointed the guy out and it was Joe Torre... the then-manager of the New York Yankees. At that time, the real-life Yankees, not the dream ones, were in the World Series.
I was completely taken by surprise by her revelation. In fact, I chuckled because clearly she had no idea who he was. I asked her if they had ever dated and she told me no, but that she just wanted to try it out.
I pointed out a few things... first that it was, in fact, Joe Torre... which I have to admit, even in my dream, was kind of exciting to me. But she had to know that he had a lot going on... what with his team in the World Series.
Second, he is old. He is not a baseball player but a baseball manager.
On a side note, even the "dream me" realized it was not a good idea to point out that he was, at one time, a pretty good player in the major leagues. I mean she was already attracted to him, and she did not even know this crucial piece of Joe's life.
Third... I was sitting right in front of her wanting to marry her and she was going to risk that for some pipe dream of dating Joe Torre.
Finally, I dropped the bomb that Joe Torre was married. I had just watched a show and I recalled that he had a younger wife. Admittedly, this was counter to my second observation about his age, but give me a break, I was sleeping the whole time.
"Dream Cheryl" just smiled and said that none of that mattered... she could not marry me until she explored the Torre option. This was devastating because I knew she must've been under some spell if she somehow were willing to break up his marriage.
As I sat broken-hearted, just staring at Joe Torre, he turned and noticed me. I will never forget what happened next. That S.O.B. turned and raised his glass at me.
Who does such a thing?
I am completely serious when I say that since that dream, I have never liked Joe Torre!
One other thing about these dreams... Cheryl is always soooo happy in them.
No matter what I say or how much I plead with her, she just has a big old fat smile on her face. Whether she is in line with a bunch of strangers or breaking up Joe Torre's marriage, she is always just happy as can be.
It drives me crazy!
Like I said, there have been various versions of the same dream and each ends the same. I wake up and gather my thoughts and realize that Cheryl is lying right there next to me. I would like to report that she is lying next to me and all is good... but I can't.
You see, when I wake from these dreams, I want to wake Cheryl up and punch her... but I don't.
At least I don't punch her...
But I do wake her up. I may rub her arm, I may squirm and adjust my pillow... or I may put my arm around her. Cheryl, in a semi comatose state, will roll over and ask... Did you have the dream again? Honey, I chose you! and with that, she rolls over and goes back to sleep.
As if her little groggy apology is going to make up for the hurt that she constantly causes. I am here to tell you that it does not. I am awake and I am still mad at her. In fact, I am even more irritated that she so cavalierly rolls over and goes back to sleep when our marriage is in such a crisis.
I swear, the only reason I stay with her is the kids.
So, why do I have these dreams?
One friend, a so-called therapist, opined that I perceive that there is something that I am not giving Cheryl that she needs. I immediately dismiss this as psychological gobbledy gook. If that were the reason for the dreams, Cheryl would be dreaming that I would not marry her... not vice verse!
Another theory is that I lack self-confidence and am afraid that Cheryl will leave me due to my inadequacies. Again, I dismiss this out of hand. I was not a major leaguer, but I was All Met in 1981 in both the Washington Post and the now-defunct Washington Star! That has to count for something, doesn't it?
Was Joe Torre All Met?... I think not!
Come to think of it, when I was studying for the bar exam, I had a recurring dream that the Incredible Hulk was chasing me. I would run and run and try to get away, but he would always catch up to me... and when he did, he would tell me that I wasn't doing enough studying. Maybe the therapist with her Ivy League education is on to something. Maybe, just maybe, I need to do more for Cheryl.
Nah. She's not right. It is all Cheryl's fault.
Like everything else in my life that is goofy, I blame Cheryl. Unfortunately, I cannot come up with a plausible theory as to why she is to blame... but she has to be doing something wrong.
I would say it takes about half of a day for me to finally forgive Cheryl for her dream transgressions. I am happy to report that her birthday was not totally ruined, as I was able to overcome her latest transgressions and take her out for a nice sushi birthday dinner.
I am not the biggest fan of sushi, but this is what she loves. And, in the off chance that our counselor friend is correct, I will try to give Cheryl everything she needs. Besides, I don't mind going out to eat at Sushi restaurants because you know who does not like sushi... that's right... Joe Torre!
Happy birthday to my wonderful wife.
I could not imagine my life... my real life, not my dream life... without you. I thank God every day that you agreed to marry me. Your wisdom, your faith, and your love set such a great example for anyone that meets you.
We have a great life together and I love you more than you can possibly imagine!
So with all that, I have to ask... why can't you, just one time, agree to marry me in my dreams? We would both rest so much better if you would!
It is always a different dream but with the similar theme.
In last night's dream, we were dating but she refused to commit to me for a lifetime. I finally decided that enough was enough, and I was going to give her an ultimatum. While she was waiting in line, I was going to tell her that she had to say yes right then or that would be that... I was going to be moving on... with or without her.
I am not sure what the significance of the line was... but I do recall that she was very happy to be in that line... which, for some reason, really irritated me.
Anyway, as I approached her, I started to waiver and instead of the ultimatum, I told her that no matter what she said or what she did, I was always going to want to marry her and I would always be there for her.
This was hardly the ultimatum that I had intended. In fact, it made me look kind of pathetic. Of course this made Cheryl smile and tell me: That's nice.
Ughhhh!
Cheryl then turned to the folks in line, none of whom I recognized, and began joking around and having fun.
Double Ughhh with a two fisted dang!
So, now you understand why I get mad at her. I mean she just ignored me and joked around with a bunch of people that I did not even know.
This is totally unacceptable behavior.
Several years ago, she irritated me in my dreams when she told me that she could not marry me because she was interested in dating some guy who was sitting at the bar where we were having dinner. She pointed the guy out and it was Joe Torre... the then-manager of the New York Yankees. At that time, the real-life Yankees, not the dream ones, were in the World Series.
I was completely taken by surprise by her revelation. In fact, I chuckled because clearly she had no idea who he was. I asked her if they had ever dated and she told me no, but that she just wanted to try it out.
I pointed out a few things... first that it was, in fact, Joe Torre... which I have to admit, even in my dream, was kind of exciting to me. But she had to know that he had a lot going on... what with his team in the World Series.
Second, he is old. He is not a baseball player but a baseball manager.
On a side note, even the "dream me" realized it was not a good idea to point out that he was, at one time, a pretty good player in the major leagues. I mean she was already attracted to him, and she did not even know this crucial piece of Joe's life.
Third... I was sitting right in front of her wanting to marry her and she was going to risk that for some pipe dream of dating Joe Torre.
Finally, I dropped the bomb that Joe Torre was married. I had just watched a show and I recalled that he had a younger wife. Admittedly, this was counter to my second observation about his age, but give me a break, I was sleeping the whole time.
"Dream Cheryl" just smiled and said that none of that mattered... she could not marry me until she explored the Torre option. This was devastating because I knew she must've been under some spell if she somehow were willing to break up his marriage.
As I sat broken-hearted, just staring at Joe Torre, he turned and noticed me. I will never forget what happened next. That S.O.B. turned and raised his glass at me.
Who does such a thing?
I am completely serious when I say that since that dream, I have never liked Joe Torre!
One other thing about these dreams... Cheryl is always soooo happy in them.
No matter what I say or how much I plead with her, she just has a big old fat smile on her face. Whether she is in line with a bunch of strangers or breaking up Joe Torre's marriage, she is always just happy as can be.
It drives me crazy!
Like I said, there have been various versions of the same dream and each ends the same. I wake up and gather my thoughts and realize that Cheryl is lying right there next to me. I would like to report that she is lying next to me and all is good... but I can't.
You see, when I wake from these dreams, I want to wake Cheryl up and punch her... but I don't.
At least I don't punch her...
But I do wake her up. I may rub her arm, I may squirm and adjust my pillow... or I may put my arm around her. Cheryl, in a semi comatose state, will roll over and ask... Did you have the dream again? Honey, I chose you! and with that, she rolls over and goes back to sleep.
As if her little groggy apology is going to make up for the hurt that she constantly causes. I am here to tell you that it does not. I am awake and I am still mad at her. In fact, I am even more irritated that she so cavalierly rolls over and goes back to sleep when our marriage is in such a crisis.
I swear, the only reason I stay with her is the kids.
So, why do I have these dreams?
One friend, a so-called therapist, opined that I perceive that there is something that I am not giving Cheryl that she needs. I immediately dismiss this as psychological gobbledy gook. If that were the reason for the dreams, Cheryl would be dreaming that I would not marry her... not vice verse!
Another theory is that I lack self-confidence and am afraid that Cheryl will leave me due to my inadequacies. Again, I dismiss this out of hand. I was not a major leaguer, but I was All Met in 1981 in both the Washington Post and the now-defunct Washington Star! That has to count for something, doesn't it?
Was Joe Torre All Met?... I think not!
Come to think of it, when I was studying for the bar exam, I had a recurring dream that the Incredible Hulk was chasing me. I would run and run and try to get away, but he would always catch up to me... and when he did, he would tell me that I wasn't doing enough studying. Maybe the therapist with her Ivy League education is on to something. Maybe, just maybe, I need to do more for Cheryl.
Nah. She's not right. It is all Cheryl's fault.
Like everything else in my life that is goofy, I blame Cheryl. Unfortunately, I cannot come up with a plausible theory as to why she is to blame... but she has to be doing something wrong.
I would say it takes about half of a day for me to finally forgive Cheryl for her dream transgressions. I am happy to report that her birthday was not totally ruined, as I was able to overcome her latest transgressions and take her out for a nice sushi birthday dinner.
I am not the biggest fan of sushi, but this is what she loves. And, in the off chance that our counselor friend is correct, I will try to give Cheryl everything she needs. Besides, I don't mind going out to eat at Sushi restaurants because you know who does not like sushi... that's right... Joe Torre!
Happy birthday to my wonderful wife.
I could not imagine my life... my real life, not my dream life... without you. I thank God every day that you agreed to marry me. Your wisdom, your faith, and your love set such a great example for anyone that meets you.
We have a great life together and I love you more than you can possibly imagine!
So with all that, I have to ask... why can't you, just one time, agree to marry me in my dreams? We would both rest so much better if you would!
Friday, September 4, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Rest in peace, Mrs. Smith...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
On our third day of vacationing in Hawaii, I received a text message from my best friend, PJ, advising that his mother was not doing well and that the end was near. This was followed up by a text a day later advising that she had passed away.
Obviously, the news was upsetting, but her health had been failing and her passing was not so surprising. Mrs. Smith left behind nine children, the youngest of which, I spent nearly every day of my childhood with. As a result, I spent much of my childhood at the Smith house. In fact, when I received the text, I was concerned that I would not make it back in time to attend her funeral in Florida. PJ said he would understand if I could not make it and I should not worry about it.
I told him that I had to make it because, beside my mother, she made me more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches than any other human being!
Fortunately, I was able to make it Florida along with two other friends.
One of them knew PJ very well, but had never met his family. I was telling her that we grew up across the street from each other and I spent part of nearly every day at the Smith house. She asked me if the Smith children had been nice to me. This brought a smile to my face. I wanted to say yes, but I couldn't.
In fact, to be honest, there were times when they scared me. I wouldn't jump right to the word nice, unless comments like... Are you here again! Do you have a home? Are you still here? Hey Moo Moo (my stupid nickname that only my brothers and the Smiths ever used) GO HOME!
They didn't really mean it... at least I think that they didn't mean it. I am pretty sure they didn't mean it. Tough love. That's what it was... tough love.
In fact, tough is a pretty good word to describe all of the kids. Barry, one of the brothers, gave a eulogy, and he talked about the games we played as kids. And as he started to describe the games, I smiled and mouthed the words Get Tough!
I think the Smiths invented the game of Get Tough! If they didn't invent it, they perfected it.
Get Tough was a football game of sorts. One guy had the ball on offense and the ball was placed near the goal line. Every other kid was on defense!
Once the offensive guy moved the ball, the other defensive players tackled him, beat him, pounded him, crushed every fiber of his being! The dude had to Get Tough!
Occasionally, the games would lead to tears. But Barry noted that his mother rarely reacted. He was wrong about that... she never reacted. I never saw her lose her cool. I never saw her yell. I never saw her upset or irritated.
Personally, one of my most vivid memories of Mrs. Smith has her sitting in a chair reading a book and occasionally looking up to find PJ crying as one of his brothers was swinging him around by head. She would calmly call out... Kerry, Barry, Terry, Timmy, Mike (it could have been any one of them and occasionally two of them) put your brother down!
Barry commented that often times, other mothers might call the Smith home to complain that their child was sent home from a day with the Smiths in tears. The call typically would end with Mrs. Smith telling the other mother... in a very kind voice... Maybe your child shouldn't play with my kids.
Even the girls were tough; although, I have to admit, I remember them being bigger than they really are. Perhaps it was just their personas. I was a bit shocked when I saw them at the funeral... they are tiny little things.
I am sure they were bigger when I was a kid!
I was also asked if any of my siblings were good friends with PJ's siblings. Initially, I said not really but then I started to think about it. Almost all six of the Palumbo children were within one year of at least one of the Smith children... and sometimes a Palumbo fell right between two Smiths. And every one of his brothers and sisters asked about my siblings.
When I first saw PJ's sister Sandy outside of the church, she held out her arms and went to greet me by calling me by my brother's name. Joey! she started, but quickly realized I was the much younger more handsome brother and the Joey was quickly changed to Moo Moo! God you look like Joey!
I don't think that any of them were as close as PJ and I, but their lives were always intertwined with ours. Of course, PJ and I were both the youngest in our families, so we may have missed a great friendship or two along the way.
After the funeral, we went to lunch where we viewed a slide show. A very small part of that slide show was pictures of my mother and father. My mother took great glee when I called and reported that she made the cut... not once, but three times. Heck, I was over their house all the time and I only got in there once!
We ended the evening over to PJ's sister Shelia's home. I then had more of an opportunity to visit with all of PJ's siblings. Each appreciated that I was able to make it to the funeral, and each thanked me for being there. Quite a contrast to Hey Moo Moo... GO HOME.
There had been no question that I was going to attend.
In fact, I should have thanked them.
I should have thanked them for the hundreds of meals that I ate at their house, for the number of sleepovers that I spent in their home, or for the thousands of times I was allowed to hang out in their home. I mean, where else was I going to see PJ getting swung around by the head. I should have thanked them for all of that but I only thanked them for the great hospitality that they showed throughout the weekend.
I have always believed that the greatest legacy that a person leaves is their children. Mr. Smith, who passed away several years ago, and Mrs. Smith have quite a legacy. Every one of their children has been successful in their professional lives, and they have all produced beautiful, smart Smith grandchildren... kids that are more than capable of carrying on a decent conversation with some guy who grew up with their uncle and that they either just met or met a time or two when they were younger.
Mrs. Smith, I am sure, was proud of each and every one of her kids... even if they occasionally scared Moo Moo!
May she rest in peace!
On our third day of vacationing in Hawaii, I received a text message from my best friend, PJ, advising that his mother was not doing well and that the end was near. This was followed up by a text a day later advising that she had passed away.
Obviously, the news was upsetting, but her health had been failing and her passing was not so surprising. Mrs. Smith left behind nine children, the youngest of which, I spent nearly every day of my childhood with. As a result, I spent much of my childhood at the Smith house. In fact, when I received the text, I was concerned that I would not make it back in time to attend her funeral in Florida. PJ said he would understand if I could not make it and I should not worry about it.
I told him that I had to make it because, beside my mother, she made me more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches than any other human being!
Fortunately, I was able to make it Florida along with two other friends.
One of them knew PJ very well, but had never met his family. I was telling her that we grew up across the street from each other and I spent part of nearly every day at the Smith house. She asked me if the Smith children had been nice to me. This brought a smile to my face. I wanted to say yes, but I couldn't.
In fact, to be honest, there were times when they scared me. I wouldn't jump right to the word nice, unless comments like... Are you here again! Do you have a home? Are you still here? Hey Moo Moo (my stupid nickname that only my brothers and the Smiths ever used) GO HOME!
They didn't really mean it... at least I think that they didn't mean it. I am pretty sure they didn't mean it. Tough love. That's what it was... tough love.
In fact, tough is a pretty good word to describe all of the kids. Barry, one of the brothers, gave a eulogy, and he talked about the games we played as kids. And as he started to describe the games, I smiled and mouthed the words Get Tough!
I think the Smiths invented the game of Get Tough! If they didn't invent it, they perfected it.
Get Tough was a football game of sorts. One guy had the ball on offense and the ball was placed near the goal line. Every other kid was on defense!
Once the offensive guy moved the ball, the other defensive players tackled him, beat him, pounded him, crushed every fiber of his being! The dude had to Get Tough!
Occasionally, the games would lead to tears. But Barry noted that his mother rarely reacted. He was wrong about that... she never reacted. I never saw her lose her cool. I never saw her yell. I never saw her upset or irritated.
Personally, one of my most vivid memories of Mrs. Smith has her sitting in a chair reading a book and occasionally looking up to find PJ crying as one of his brothers was swinging him around by head. She would calmly call out... Kerry, Barry, Terry, Timmy, Mike (it could have been any one of them and occasionally two of them) put your brother down!
Barry commented that often times, other mothers might call the Smith home to complain that their child was sent home from a day with the Smiths in tears. The call typically would end with Mrs. Smith telling the other mother... in a very kind voice... Maybe your child shouldn't play with my kids.
Even the girls were tough; although, I have to admit, I remember them being bigger than they really are. Perhaps it was just their personas. I was a bit shocked when I saw them at the funeral... they are tiny little things.
I am sure they were bigger when I was a kid!
I was also asked if any of my siblings were good friends with PJ's siblings. Initially, I said not really but then I started to think about it. Almost all six of the Palumbo children were within one year of at least one of the Smith children... and sometimes a Palumbo fell right between two Smiths. And every one of his brothers and sisters asked about my siblings.
When I first saw PJ's sister Sandy outside of the church, she held out her arms and went to greet me by calling me by my brother's name. Joey! she started, but quickly realized I was the much younger more handsome brother and the Joey was quickly changed to Moo Moo! God you look like Joey!
I don't think that any of them were as close as PJ and I, but their lives were always intertwined with ours. Of course, PJ and I were both the youngest in our families, so we may have missed a great friendship or two along the way.
After the funeral, we went to lunch where we viewed a slide show. A very small part of that slide show was pictures of my mother and father. My mother took great glee when I called and reported that she made the cut... not once, but three times. Heck, I was over their house all the time and I only got in there once!
We ended the evening over to PJ's sister Shelia's home. I then had more of an opportunity to visit with all of PJ's siblings. Each appreciated that I was able to make it to the funeral, and each thanked me for being there. Quite a contrast to Hey Moo Moo... GO HOME.
There had been no question that I was going to attend.
In fact, I should have thanked them.
I should have thanked them for the hundreds of meals that I ate at their house, for the number of sleepovers that I spent in their home, or for the thousands of times I was allowed to hang out in their home. I mean, where else was I going to see PJ getting swung around by the head. I should have thanked them for all of that but I only thanked them for the great hospitality that they showed throughout the weekend.
I have always believed that the greatest legacy that a person leaves is their children. Mr. Smith, who passed away several years ago, and Mrs. Smith have quite a legacy. Every one of their children has been successful in their professional lives, and they have all produced beautiful, smart Smith grandchildren... kids that are more than capable of carrying on a decent conversation with some guy who grew up with their uncle and that they either just met or met a time or two when they were younger.
Mrs. Smith, I am sure, was proud of each and every one of her kids... even if they occasionally scared Moo Moo!
May she rest in peace!
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