There I was, a Sunday afternoon in, "Up Dere" Minnesota, watching Jake's 12U baseball double header. It started out warm and sunny, and within minutes turned into a grey, cold, and uber blustery day. No unoccupied lawn chair was safe from flight and yet the game played on. Now, I'm not sure because there was a lot of sand and leaves flying around, but at one point the ump called a time out and I think I caught a brief glimpse of a pigtailed young girl, in a blue and white checkered jumper, appearing on home plate, frantically clicking her ruby red slippers and yelling something to the sky about this not being Kansas either. When I looked closer though she was gone, replaced by a chubby kid in catcher's gear named Kyler chomping gum. Weird.
Speaking of weird, normally I am the weirdo magnet in this bunch. I think it's because, much to my chagrin, I actually make eye contact with fellow human beings. I know. It's old fashioned etiquette in an age of anonymity and self-importance but old habits die hard. Anyway, during this marathon afternoon of ball, at some point I had to go make water. Tammy said she would go with me, so we tied the chairs down with shoelaces and headed to the concession stand bathrooms. Turns out they had one for women with only one stall. Um, I'm not sure but I'm guessing Frank Lloyd Wright was not involved in this architectural marvel. So in line we stood. Lo and behold a woman approaches, dressed all in brown, looking Sunday sporty in her headband and matching slacks, and she instantly gloms on to Tammy, who's in line behind me by the way, stating loudly, "Leave it to some dumbass man to design a ball park with only one stall for women!" Being the last two in line ahead of her we nodded politely and I turned away. Tammy made the eye contact. HUGE SNAFU. The woman repeats it again just as loudly and I detect an inflection I hadn't noticed before. Hmm....something's off. Then she goes on to talk about her nephew playing and boy isn't she sure glad to be out on a day like this. NOT! It was soon evident she had some challenges. I nodded and turned away, wanting to be polite but not comfortable with her sailor's language near all the children. Save that for the crowd at the bar where Brandy's serving whiskey and wine, or at night when the bars close down and Brandy walks through a silent town, did you know she loves a man who's not around? Wait I digress. At this point I'm next in line and Tammy's gently tease poking me in the back while this woman is droning on and then I hear loudly, "Hey. I really like your barrette." I know Tammy's wearing one across the back of her hair, layering her curls. I stifled a giggle. Then I hear it again preceded with a louder, "Hey! I SAID I like your barrette!" I glanced just in time to see Tammy half turn and mutter, "Thank you," Just then the woman starts petting her head and barrette. Seriously, Tammy got petted. Right about then the door opened and I walked into the restroom and as I turned to close the door, Tammy pushes right through, slams the door and says, "You're not leaving me out there with her!" Of course I was mortified yelling, "Excuse me! I don't even know you ma'am. LADY! What are you DOING in here?" It was pretty funny and Tammy was saved.
So that was Sunday so we didn't get to see the Favre game winner with :02 left on the clock, or the Twins loss to Kansas City, OR the Bears, but they're rarely on here anyway. But we did get to share a stall that actually still had toilet paper, and watch dirt devils form at shortstop and second base. Jake's team won the first and lost the second.
Saturday was Pearl's 71st birthday (Tammy's mom) so we went to the party at Tammy's sister's house in Fridley. She always makes a feast. I'm still full. Some of the kids, including Pearl, went and shagged balls at the baseball field behind the house but my back is all kinked up so I refrained. I always knew I was kinky but I didn't know it would hurt so much. Such is life and ibuprofin is underrated. I may need to visit the chiropractor but I never have liked going to the doctor.
Friday night we dropped the kids off at the St. Francis homecoming game and went up to Billy's pub to watch the Twins and wait for the call for the pick up. Then Tammy gets a text from Sarah. "STREAKER!" We were cracking up and just as Tammy was texting back, don't look, Sarah texted, "OMG! I just saw grossness!" We laughed so hard. St. Francis lost the homecoming game again for the 28th year in a row and the streaker was subdued by the St. Francis police officer, so all was well.
And that, ladies and germs, was my weekend in a nutshell. Take care. Until next time. Love you!
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
If the shoe fits are you an alien?
There I was, driving to work as I have done at least 6,600 times to date. Wow. That's a lot of gas. Anyway, as I passed the Holiday Station store at Xkimo and 169, bragging about its stupid $2.33 per gallon gas prices, somehow mocking me and knowing I had just paid $2.39 at Bill's Superette down the street (who exactly is "Bill" anyway?), I happened to notice a dark lump of something lying right in the middle of the road. Literally right in the middle, balanced on the center line. Assuming it was the usual skunk or squirrel road kill so popular around here I barely slowed from my 60 mph personal min. speed or glanced up from phone texting my novel (texting a novel while driving is often referred to as drivel) when something caught my eye. It was a shoe. No, it was a galosh. Singular for galoshes, this galosh was missing it's right foot. Not that Christy Brown would ever notice. Apparently his left foot was enough, the Irish braggart.
Seeing that galosh got me to thinking. Why it, why now? Why do I even see shoes in the road at all? You never see a pair of shoes, only one. Often times you will drive past a shoe out in the desolate middle of nowhere. Why? Where do these almost anachronisms come from? Do people moving not tie down their shoes and they flip out of the pick-up? Did they just walk there? My mother when in cleaning mode used to scrunch her face up, put her hands on her hips, and actually ask me if I thought my shoes were just going to walk themselves to my room. Maybe I should have waited to find out. Do domestic disputes on wheels often turn to the threatening of shoe-a-cide? (I swear, Jeananne, you stop this car right now or I'm throwing this baby out. I swear, I'll do it! It's a Hushpuppy! It's a Hushpuppy!!" BAM. Gone baby bootie Gone. Is that what happens?
I don't think so. I think it is an alien form of communication. Think about it. When you see one of those lost and lonely shoes do you ever stop to pick it up? Does it cross your mind, hey, is that an 8 narrow? I've been needing a new right shoe, damn you pubescent scoliosis. No, it doesn't. What you hear is your mother's voice saying, don't touch that it's dirty. You don't know who's foot was in there. Then in a whisper, you don't even know if they wore socks. What? Are you serious? Gee, I wonder what kind of shoes Ted Bundy wore? Yes mother, because if I were to don some article of clothing from the Ted Bundy spring break collection I'm sure I would instantly turn insane and develop and unnatural attraction to all things necrophiliac. Aileen Wuornos' thumb ring? No way! Where's the John? Puh-lease. Anyway I digress, or digest as Jeffrey Dahmer used to say. I'm thinking alien "hide-in-plain-sight" theory.
The shoes are out there, they're clearly out of place and yet we drive on, ignoring the fact that someone's footwear is living on the side of a six lane highway. Have you ever seen a shoe actually fall out of a moving car or garbage or Goodwill truck? I didn't think so. Me neither. So what gives? See, the aliens who walk amongst us, well, those with feet, have figured out what we'll ignore, and shoes on the road we'll ignore. Wallets? No. Purses? Never. Alex Forrest? She won't be ignored, Dan! But that's a fatal attraction for another day.
I don't know what it means but I know they may contain messages and probably, not certainly, but probably alien. I'm watching. Tomorrow that galosh will be gone. Have you noticed that as well? Shoe, no shoe, just like that. Someone or something is collecting them. Who? When? It's all so strange and now that I've noticed I will proceed with caution. Am I safe? Can I grab a shoe and understand it's alien meaning? We shall see, we shall see. Until next time....
Seeing that galosh got me to thinking. Why it, why now? Why do I even see shoes in the road at all? You never see a pair of shoes, only one. Often times you will drive past a shoe out in the desolate middle of nowhere. Why? Where do these almost anachronisms come from? Do people moving not tie down their shoes and they flip out of the pick-up? Did they just walk there? My mother when in cleaning mode used to scrunch her face up, put her hands on her hips, and actually ask me if I thought my shoes were just going to walk themselves to my room. Maybe I should have waited to find out. Do domestic disputes on wheels often turn to the threatening of shoe-a-cide? (I swear, Jeananne, you stop this car right now or I'm throwing this baby out. I swear, I'll do it! It's a Hushpuppy! It's a Hushpuppy!!" BAM. Gone baby bootie Gone. Is that what happens?
I don't think so. I think it is an alien form of communication. Think about it. When you see one of those lost and lonely shoes do you ever stop to pick it up? Does it cross your mind, hey, is that an 8 narrow? I've been needing a new right shoe, damn you pubescent scoliosis. No, it doesn't. What you hear is your mother's voice saying, don't touch that it's dirty. You don't know who's foot was in there. Then in a whisper, you don't even know if they wore socks. What? Are you serious? Gee, I wonder what kind of shoes Ted Bundy wore? Yes mother, because if I were to don some article of clothing from the Ted Bundy spring break collection I'm sure I would instantly turn insane and develop and unnatural attraction to all things necrophiliac. Aileen Wuornos' thumb ring? No way! Where's the John? Puh-lease. Anyway I digress, or digest as Jeffrey Dahmer used to say. I'm thinking alien "hide-in-plain-sight" theory.
The shoes are out there, they're clearly out of place and yet we drive on, ignoring the fact that someone's footwear is living on the side of a six lane highway. Have you ever seen a shoe actually fall out of a moving car or garbage or Goodwill truck? I didn't think so. Me neither. So what gives? See, the aliens who walk amongst us, well, those with feet, have figured out what we'll ignore, and shoes on the road we'll ignore. Wallets? No. Purses? Never. Alex Forrest? She won't be ignored, Dan! But that's a fatal attraction for another day.
I don't know what it means but I know they may contain messages and probably, not certainly, but probably alien. I'm watching. Tomorrow that galosh will be gone. Have you noticed that as well? Shoe, no shoe, just like that. Someone or something is collecting them. Who? When? It's all so strange and now that I've noticed I will proceed with caution. Am I safe? Can I grab a shoe and understand it's alien meaning? We shall see, we shall see. Until next time....
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Tommy Guns, Gangster Molls and More...
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife. E-I-E-I-O
And with his wife there came a gun. E-I-E-I-O
With a rat-a-tat here
and a rat-a-tat there
Here a tat, there a tat, everywhere a tat-a-tat
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife E-I-E-I-O
Huh? Ok, so the Tam and I went on the St. Paul gangster bus tour with Cathy and Andrea on Saturday afternoon. First of all, yes I am coming to grips with the fact that a bus tour would actually light me up. I age before my own eyes. They often call them cotton tours because when the miked up leader gazes down the seat filled rows, all they see are fields of white cotton tops. Yesterday was no exception. I think we were the youngest foursome on the two hour adventure.
You probably didn't know this but during prohibition, St. Paul was THE hot spot for gangsters due to the O'Connor layover law. This law, started by the St. Paul police chief, sumptin sumptin O'Connor, stated if you were a wanted criminal you could come to St. Paul any time with no hassels, but there were three rules that had to be followed. One, you could not commit any crimes while you were there (speakeasy partying not included). B. You had to sign in and out with the police so they would know who's where. And three, you had to make a donation to the policeman's retirement fund. Anyone following those rules could hang out in St. Paul with no fear of arrest. And hang out they did. It was a pretty cool tour and our leader, her photo is included, did a fabulous job. Her real name is Dawn Brody and she was leading as Catherine "Kitty" Kelly, Machine Gun Kelly's wife. Turns out she purchased her first Tommy gun from the Sears and Robuck mail order catalog. Once prohibition ended they all went into bank robbing and kidnapping and those tommy guns worked great. Anyway, we had a great time, saw parts of St. Paul's history and had a great fun time.
BEARS WIN! BEARS WIN! OMG. We looked good today. I had the game taped because Jake had fall ball at 10 and 2 today (who thinks up these schedules, I ask?) I'm beginning to think taping is not so bad after all. Fast Forwards rock. I'm just in time for the Emmy's, broadcasting in the background as I blog. Blog. It really is an onomatopoeia isn't it? Blog. Written vomit. But who will hold my fingers?
Here is yet one more example of a Minnesota moment. So the Twins are still in the AL Central hunt, so the games are getting more intense and anxious to watch, etc. Well, Friday night we packed a cooler and headed over to Bruce and New Nancy's to hang out. [Insert bad segue here] If you couldn't tell this was the weekend the kids went to their dad's until today. [Back to topic at hand] We didn't know what the evening would look like, we just knew we were going to get together. So we get over there and they have chairs set up on the deck. Oh and let me tell you this is a nice deck. It's an upper level deck that overlooks the ten heavily wooded acres they dwell on. If you are quiet you can hear the brook babbling in the background. Kind of like if you sat near my table in a bar. Babbling away... So Bruce had already hooked up a nice sized TV out on the deck, complete with cable hook up so we could all watch the game while hanging out. It was great. It got dark out and the weather was perfect light jacket weather, not too windy, not stagnant or mosquito infested. What a blast. I mean, we only have so many weekends left before the snow flies and up here it can get bad, so when it is nice out you want to be outside no matter what. Even some of the restaurants and bars up here will do whatever it takes to claim themselves as having outdoor seating. They'll knock out a wall with a sledge hammer, throw a card table out there and viola, outdoor seating. Many come complete with a view of the non-moving rusty semi trailer, usually parked next door to a place like Mike's Fish, or the local retention plant. You get the picture.
I guess that's about it for this week. We've been hanging out and having fun learning Facebook. I'm back in algebra, pretty much daily now. Sarah's in 8th grade "enriched" algebra so that means lots of homework. Enriched. So what, I found the yellow cake Uranium or something? Ugh. Or should I say I mean Ugh = Y + NYAH / BOO. It's actually been kind of fun. Sarah starts Confirmation classes on Wednesday so there's a whole new flashback of trauma for me to look forward to.
Take care everyone! I love you all!
-DIane
And with his wife there came a gun. E-I-E-I-O
With a rat-a-tat here
and a rat-a-tat there
Here a tat, there a tat, everywhere a tat-a-tat
Machine Gun Kelly had a wife E-I-E-I-O
Huh? Ok, so the Tam and I went on the St. Paul gangster bus tour with Cathy and Andrea on Saturday afternoon. First of all, yes I am coming to grips with the fact that a bus tour would actually light me up. I age before my own eyes. They often call them cotton tours because when the miked up leader gazes down the seat filled rows, all they see are fields of white cotton tops. Yesterday was no exception. I think we were the youngest foursome on the two hour adventure.
You probably didn't know this but during prohibition, St. Paul was THE hot spot for gangsters due to the O'Connor layover law. This law, started by the St. Paul police chief, sumptin sumptin O'Connor, stated if you were a wanted criminal you could come to St. Paul any time with no hassels, but there were three rules that had to be followed. One, you could not commit any crimes while you were there (speakeasy partying not included). B. You had to sign in and out with the police so they would know who's where. And three, you had to make a donation to the policeman's retirement fund. Anyone following those rules could hang out in St. Paul with no fear of arrest. And hang out they did. It was a pretty cool tour and our leader, her photo is included, did a fabulous job. Her real name is Dawn Brody and she was leading as Catherine "Kitty" Kelly, Machine Gun Kelly's wife. Turns out she purchased her first Tommy gun from the Sears and Robuck mail order catalog. Once prohibition ended they all went into bank robbing and kidnapping and those tommy guns worked great. Anyway, we had a great time, saw parts of St. Paul's history and had a great fun time.
BEARS WIN! BEARS WIN! OMG. We looked good today. I had the game taped because Jake had fall ball at 10 and 2 today (who thinks up these schedules, I ask?) I'm beginning to think taping is not so bad after all. Fast Forwards rock. I'm just in time for the Emmy's, broadcasting in the background as I blog. Blog. It really is an onomatopoeia isn't it? Blog. Written vomit. But who will hold my fingers?
Here is yet one more example of a Minnesota moment. So the Twins are still in the AL Central hunt, so the games are getting more intense and anxious to watch, etc. Well, Friday night we packed a cooler and headed over to Bruce and New Nancy's to hang out. [Insert bad segue here] If you couldn't tell this was the weekend the kids went to their dad's until today. [Back to topic at hand] We didn't know what the evening would look like, we just knew we were going to get together. So we get over there and they have chairs set up on the deck. Oh and let me tell you this is a nice deck. It's an upper level deck that overlooks the ten heavily wooded acres they dwell on. If you are quiet you can hear the brook babbling in the background. Kind of like if you sat near my table in a bar. Babbling away... So Bruce had already hooked up a nice sized TV out on the deck, complete with cable hook up so we could all watch the game while hanging out. It was great. It got dark out and the weather was perfect light jacket weather, not too windy, not stagnant or mosquito infested. What a blast. I mean, we only have so many weekends left before the snow flies and up here it can get bad, so when it is nice out you want to be outside no matter what. Even some of the restaurants and bars up here will do whatever it takes to claim themselves as having outdoor seating. They'll knock out a wall with a sledge hammer, throw a card table out there and viola, outdoor seating. Many come complete with a view of the non-moving rusty semi trailer, usually parked next door to a place like Mike's Fish, or the local retention plant. You get the picture.
I guess that's about it for this week. We've been hanging out and having fun learning Facebook. I'm back in algebra, pretty much daily now. Sarah's in 8th grade "enriched" algebra so that means lots of homework. Enriched. So what, I found the yellow cake Uranium or something? Ugh. Or should I say I mean Ugh = Y + NYAH / BOO. It's actually been kind of fun. Sarah starts Confirmation classes on Wednesday so there's a whole new flashback of trauma for me to look forward to.
Take care everyone! I love you all!
-DIane
Sunday, September 13, 2009
It's Bears versus Packers. WELCOME NFL 2009
I'm sitting here on my blog-a-lizer counting the ticks until kick off 2009. Bears Vs. Packers, the Sunday night game. What a way to begin the season. Wait. What's a blog-a-lizer you ask? A blog-a-lizer is a contraption that takes all of the energy required for blog creation and turns it into a total calorie and fat burning barc-o-lounger, complete with a television remote control built into the arm. It's very Star Trek. Whattya mean you want to see it to believe it? Call QVC for goodness sakes. You think I make this stuff up? I'm asking you sugar, would I lie to you?
In the meantime you will notice the photo I have added this week. It should appear to your right facing the page. That is my 16 year-old niece Taylor (no relation to Taylor Swift or Jonathon Taylor-Thomas. Oh, and where is he Mr. Lance Kerwin?) sitting in her 1976 re-furbished Chevy Camaro. It is cherry red. Although all I can see when I look at it is sour apple green but maybe that's the jealousy raging. Is that the coolest teen car or what? Seriously. That car has been in the Bruce-Christy life since Christy got it in 1976 when she turned old enough to drive. Justin's had it since. Kirby had the opportunity for it and now Taylor. They just gave it a new paint job and tires and wheels. How sweet is that? A '76 Camaro. Sweet. Reminds me of Rose Hartman and softball in my youth but hey, that's just me. Tay lives in Oklahoma, is a junior, and has no trouble filling that passenger seat.
Poor Jake. What a weekend he had this weekend. First of all on Thursday I scored my company's tickets to the Twins for Friday night. Second of all he was supposed to get his musical instrument in band class on Friday. Thirdly, his fall baseball season started this morning with a double header against Andover. Or Bendover as my friend Ken likes to say. So what happens? The poor guy wakes up with a fever Friday morning. A fever. Lord knows what that might do with all the H1N1 fear mongoring going on. So no school, no Twins, and he tried to go to his games today as his fever is gone, but he felt like crap. After warm ups he just didn't feel good. It is hot and super humid here today. In July we are in blankets seeing our voices and now it's like 90 in Mid-September. The seasons are changing but the calendar is not, that's what I say. Anyway, none of it happend for him. We gave the Twins tickets to Tammy's nephew which was cool because he really likes the Twins and the seats I scored were prime. I'm sure he had fun, though we watched and the Twins got thumped pretty badly by the A's. How do you even get beat by a team that is only a letter? What is this, Sesame Street? Tonight we thump you. Brought to you by the letter A.
Sarah spent the weekend with her friend Mariah (they have horses of course) and I have been reminding them all week that all homework MUST be done prior to kickoff Sunday night. Think it will happen? Last text I got she has 28 math problems and her dad is dropping her here at 5. I hope once we get those problems going she'll pick it up as she's in "enriched" algebra this year. Enriched. When I was in school it was called advanced or honors math. Enriched. What is this a milk supplement? Milk it does a body good. Maybe I'll just have her sit in the blog-a-lizer for a bit. Enriched. I used all my phone-a-friends last week on math help for her. You think I remember this stuff? Yikes. It is kind of fun though. You know I love learning. I'm better now then when I was trying to learn it the first time, thank goodness.
Anyway, not much else to repot. Hanging out. GO BEARS. Take care all. Until next week. I love you all.
Love,
Diane
In the meantime you will notice the photo I have added this week. It should appear to your right facing the page. That is my 16 year-old niece Taylor (no relation to Taylor Swift or Jonathon Taylor-Thomas. Oh, and where is he Mr. Lance Kerwin?) sitting in her 1976 re-furbished Chevy Camaro. It is cherry red. Although all I can see when I look at it is sour apple green but maybe that's the jealousy raging. Is that the coolest teen car or what? Seriously. That car has been in the Bruce-Christy life since Christy got it in 1976 when she turned old enough to drive. Justin's had it since. Kirby had the opportunity for it and now Taylor. They just gave it a new paint job and tires and wheels. How sweet is that? A '76 Camaro. Sweet. Reminds me of Rose Hartman and softball in my youth but hey, that's just me. Tay lives in Oklahoma, is a junior, and has no trouble filling that passenger seat.
Poor Jake. What a weekend he had this weekend. First of all on Thursday I scored my company's tickets to the Twins for Friday night. Second of all he was supposed to get his musical instrument in band class on Friday. Thirdly, his fall baseball season started this morning with a double header against Andover. Or Bendover as my friend Ken likes to say. So what happens? The poor guy wakes up with a fever Friday morning. A fever. Lord knows what that might do with all the H1N1 fear mongoring going on. So no school, no Twins, and he tried to go to his games today as his fever is gone, but he felt like crap. After warm ups he just didn't feel good. It is hot and super humid here today. In July we are in blankets seeing our voices and now it's like 90 in Mid-September. The seasons are changing but the calendar is not, that's what I say. Anyway, none of it happend for him. We gave the Twins tickets to Tammy's nephew which was cool because he really likes the Twins and the seats I scored were prime. I'm sure he had fun, though we watched and the Twins got thumped pretty badly by the A's. How do you even get beat by a team that is only a letter? What is this, Sesame Street? Tonight we thump you. Brought to you by the letter A.
Sarah spent the weekend with her friend Mariah (they have horses of course) and I have been reminding them all week that all homework MUST be done prior to kickoff Sunday night. Think it will happen? Last text I got she has 28 math problems and her dad is dropping her here at 5. I hope once we get those problems going she'll pick it up as she's in "enriched" algebra this year. Enriched. When I was in school it was called advanced or honors math. Enriched. What is this a milk supplement? Milk it does a body good. Maybe I'll just have her sit in the blog-a-lizer for a bit. Enriched. I used all my phone-a-friends last week on math help for her. You think I remember this stuff? Yikes. It is kind of fun though. You know I love learning. I'm better now then when I was trying to learn it the first time, thank goodness.
Anyway, not much else to repot. Hanging out. GO BEARS. Take care all. Until next week. I love you all.
Love,
Diane
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Hummingbird Legs and the 4th Dimension
G'Day mates. Does anyone say that now that Crocodile Dundee has been uncovered as Greg Norman's alter ego? Or since Steve Erwin got spiked by a sting ray? Steve Erwin, not to be mistaken for Lance Kerwin, our favorite James at 15. Whatever happened to Lance Kerwin anyway? Oh wait. I just Wiki'd him. He's preaching in Hawaii. Sweet. Tell Kirk Cameron hey.
Enough about Lance Kerwin. This blog is all about me, and I just got back from a long weekend in Oklahoma at the lake house (I did not see Keanu Reeves or Sandra Bullock BTW). I did get to see my dad and Ann, Bruce and Christy, my nieces Kirby and Taylor, my nephew Aaron and his wife Hannah, Aaron's brother Daniel, and I met Toni and Jimmy, Ann's daughter and Toni's hay farming boy toy. (No, not Jimmy from the Mickey Mouse Club but that would have been cool....well, if he wasn't dead. That would just be creepy.) Unfortunately, Tammy and Jake and Sarah didn't make it this time and I went solo. That was a void. But the weather was great and tubing and wake boarding and much back porch talk time occured.
Since there were so many Cannon's running around we took meal shifts. Hannah and Aaron and Daniel took Saturday night's dinner. We knew the shifts ahead of time and we eaters were told we would be having a gourmet meal. As meal time approached and preperation began, Aaron proceeded to remove this giant foil bowling ball sized item from the Coleman cooler, forever known as "the human head". It was a large stuffed cabbage. Stuffed with what you say? Jury's out but the butcher who sold them on it better than Billy Mays sold OxyClean said it was a sausage meat blah blah stuffed thing. Like I said, human head. Aaron grilled it while Hannah and Daniel made a yummy shrimp bisque-type soup course. I'm not a huge Basil fan unless it ends in Rathbone and sports a Sherlock Holmes hat, but it was good nonetheless. The head never quite lived up to expectations however. It refused to be grilled. If we were cannibals we'd have had to let it go free. It quit while it was ahead. Buh-dump-bump. In the end most of the table at least tasted it. It was too Fear Factor for me so I stuck to the soup and corn on the cob (after all that was my soak the husks method they used).
Sunday night was mine and Christy's turn, and very wise older women are we, we did a buffet style chicken, chops, and steak option meal with baked potatoes and salad. Go USA! My grill master skills are still rockin'. Christy's sides, to die for (not you Jimmy Mickey Mouse Club guy!) And people could eat whenever. The kids were back out in the boat etc. It worked swell.
But for me, one of the highlights of the weekend was to get to sit with my brother and dad for hours, just talking the way we Cannon's talk. The zig zaggy off-the-wall topic jumping group we are. At one point Bruce was trying to convince me, tongue-in-cheek, that hummingbird's do not have legs. I gave him the "seriously" look. But actually I then had to think about it. I had never actually seen hummingbird legs as they are always in flight when I catch a glimpse. So could I prove it sans Google? Not immediately, though I knew it wasn't true. But did I? Did I really? So when one confronts and demands, "A-HA! How do they land then Mr. Smarty pants?" His quick reply is, they rarely do, but if they have to they balance on their chest cavity. So basically he's telling me hummingbirds are Weebles with wings. He said yes, they wobble but they don't fall down. Just then one LANDED on the iron arch post holding the hummingbird feeder in the back yard. Yes, they have little legs and feet. Classic. After all that Bruce just shrugged and said, "Made you think." To which I replied ala Dorothy Parker, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink and you can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her think.
The other thing he's tossing around is his theory that if a three dimensional object leaves a two-dimensional shadow (length and width) then we are the shadow of the fourth dimension since that would leave a three dimensional shadow. I can't disagree totally with his logic but the holes make a fence post digger jealous. Don't even get me started on our discussion surrounding the concept of time.
So I got back last night and the kids started school today. Yay. If only they would roust that easily mid-term. But their day went great and we are back in action, a whole pack. When I got home last night they had decorated the kitchen with red white and blue streamers and made signs saying Welcome Home! We missed you! How freaking awesome is that? Even when they know I'm the homework enforcer. I'm in the process of makin' me a new switch now. They was so sweet. Life is good.
Until next time. I love you all! ENJOY LIFE!!!!!
Diane
Enough about Lance Kerwin. This blog is all about me, and I just got back from a long weekend in Oklahoma at the lake house (I did not see Keanu Reeves or Sandra Bullock BTW). I did get to see my dad and Ann, Bruce and Christy, my nieces Kirby and Taylor, my nephew Aaron and his wife Hannah, Aaron's brother Daniel, and I met Toni and Jimmy, Ann's daughter and Toni's hay farming boy toy. (No, not Jimmy from the Mickey Mouse Club but that would have been cool....well, if he wasn't dead. That would just be creepy.) Unfortunately, Tammy and Jake and Sarah didn't make it this time and I went solo. That was a void. But the weather was great and tubing and wake boarding and much back porch talk time occured.
Since there were so many Cannon's running around we took meal shifts. Hannah and Aaron and Daniel took Saturday night's dinner. We knew the shifts ahead of time and we eaters were told we would be having a gourmet meal. As meal time approached and preperation began, Aaron proceeded to remove this giant foil bowling ball sized item from the Coleman cooler, forever known as "the human head". It was a large stuffed cabbage. Stuffed with what you say? Jury's out but the butcher who sold them on it better than Billy Mays sold OxyClean said it was a sausage meat blah blah stuffed thing. Like I said, human head. Aaron grilled it while Hannah and Daniel made a yummy shrimp bisque-type soup course. I'm not a huge Basil fan unless it ends in Rathbone and sports a Sherlock Holmes hat, but it was good nonetheless. The head never quite lived up to expectations however. It refused to be grilled. If we were cannibals we'd have had to let it go free. It quit while it was ahead. Buh-dump-bump. In the end most of the table at least tasted it. It was too Fear Factor for me so I stuck to the soup and corn on the cob (after all that was my soak the husks method they used).
Sunday night was mine and Christy's turn, and very wise older women are we, we did a buffet style chicken, chops, and steak option meal with baked potatoes and salad. Go USA! My grill master skills are still rockin'. Christy's sides, to die for (not you Jimmy Mickey Mouse Club guy!) And people could eat whenever. The kids were back out in the boat etc. It worked swell.
But for me, one of the highlights of the weekend was to get to sit with my brother and dad for hours, just talking the way we Cannon's talk. The zig zaggy off-the-wall topic jumping group we are. At one point Bruce was trying to convince me, tongue-in-cheek, that hummingbird's do not have legs. I gave him the "seriously" look. But actually I then had to think about it. I had never actually seen hummingbird legs as they are always in flight when I catch a glimpse. So could I prove it sans Google? Not immediately, though I knew it wasn't true. But did I? Did I really? So when one confronts and demands, "A-HA! How do they land then Mr. Smarty pants?" His quick reply is, they rarely do, but if they have to they balance on their chest cavity. So basically he's telling me hummingbirds are Weebles with wings. He said yes, they wobble but they don't fall down. Just then one LANDED on the iron arch post holding the hummingbird feeder in the back yard. Yes, they have little legs and feet. Classic. After all that Bruce just shrugged and said, "Made you think." To which I replied ala Dorothy Parker, you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink and you can lead a whore to culture but you can't make her think.
The other thing he's tossing around is his theory that if a three dimensional object leaves a two-dimensional shadow (length and width) then we are the shadow of the fourth dimension since that would leave a three dimensional shadow. I can't disagree totally with his logic but the holes make a fence post digger jealous. Don't even get me started on our discussion surrounding the concept of time.
So I got back last night and the kids started school today. Yay. If only they would roust that easily mid-term. But their day went great and we are back in action, a whole pack. When I got home last night they had decorated the kitchen with red white and blue streamers and made signs saying Welcome Home! We missed you! How freaking awesome is that? Even when they know I'm the homework enforcer. I'm in the process of makin' me a new switch now. They was so sweet. Life is good.
Until next time. I love you all! ENJOY LIFE!!!!!
Diane
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