This last Sunday was the first Mother's Day that we celebrated after losing dad. He used to plan the day. We knew it would be a rough one so decided to do something different.
We made quiche and parfaits for brunch for my mother. Instead of going to Pokagon State Park, like we had planned, my mom wanted to go to the cemetery where her mother was buried and peruse the headstones.
It may seem sacrilegious for some, but we bought ice cream and we ate it while we walked among the headstones of those who have gone before us. I only mention this because as I was thinking about my family's life over the last year and a half, it is like we have been walking in a graveyard full of death and are forced to act as if everything is normal - eating ice cream on the graves of those we have lost.
Sometimes we have no choice but to move forward and live life although everything around us seems so bleak. Don't let the shadows of the past keep you from enjoying the sweet things that life has to offer.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 11
Monday, May 3
The Lunatic Burglars
Do you remember when you first held your driver's license in your hand and you thought you could conquer the world? I would volunteer to help my parent's out with anything that required that I drive into town. I wanted to drive everywhere.
I believe I was 16 or 17 years old when, one night, my sister and I were heading home from a youth group function. It was after midnight and I was driving (of course). About three miles from home and in the middle of nowhere, the car died. It sputtered it's last breath and I was able to maneuver the car to the side of the road.
This was before the time of cell phones so we knew we had two options.
1. Walk home
2. Knock on a stranger's door and ask to use a phone.
Instead of braving the darkness and a long walk, we decided to look for the most child-friendly house and beg for help. A short ways down the road we spotted a farmhouse with tricycles and playthings in the yard. We walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door.
It was silent.
I knocked again.
Nothing.
I knocked louder.
From the shadowy recesses of the kitchen we saw a woman, wearing only a long, ugly t-shirt, dive into the next room. Her husband ran across the same way a few seconds later and he was clutching a baseball bat.
I realized that they probably thought we were scary, murderous lunatics who were out to get them. I tried to explain through the door that I was not there to murder them.
It didn't work.
The woman peered around the corner and she had a phone in her hand. Seeing this, I mustered up every ounce of courage I had and after assuring Ashley that I knew what I was doing, I cried fake tears to prove I was serious. I even added a crack in my voice.
"We're teenagers and our car isn't wor-r-r-king. Can we please use your phone? We're teenagers. Can you help us? Ple-e-ease?" And I cried. I was good.
The woman slowly made her way to the door and realizing that we were in fact ignorant teenagers, put down the phone and let us in.
We made it home about a half hour later. I am sure that it took that family awhile to fall back asleep.
Two things changed after that fateful night.
1. I was less eager to run errands for my parents
2. I never ran out of gas again. Never.
I believe I was 16 or 17 years old when, one night, my sister and I were heading home from a youth group function. It was after midnight and I was driving (of course). About three miles from home and in the middle of nowhere, the car died. It sputtered it's last breath and I was able to maneuver the car to the side of the road.
This was before the time of cell phones so we knew we had two options.
1. Walk home
2. Knock on a stranger's door and ask to use a phone.
Instead of braving the darkness and a long walk, we decided to look for the most child-friendly house and beg for help. A short ways down the road we spotted a farmhouse with tricycles and playthings in the yard. We walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door.
It was silent.
I knocked again.
Nothing.
I knocked louder.
From the shadowy recesses of the kitchen we saw a woman, wearing only a long, ugly t-shirt, dive into the next room. Her husband ran across the same way a few seconds later and he was clutching a baseball bat.
I realized that they probably thought we were scary, murderous lunatics who were out to get them. I tried to explain through the door that I was not there to murder them.
It didn't work.
The woman peered around the corner and she had a phone in her hand. Seeing this, I mustered up every ounce of courage I had and after assuring Ashley that I knew what I was doing, I cried fake tears to prove I was serious. I even added a crack in my voice.
"We're teenagers and our car isn't wor-r-r-king. Can we please use your phone? We're teenagers. Can you help us? Ple-e-ease?" And I cried. I was good.
The woman slowly made her way to the door and realizing that we were in fact ignorant teenagers, put down the phone and let us in.
We made it home about a half hour later. I am sure that it took that family awhile to fall back asleep.
Two things changed after that fateful night.
1. I was less eager to run errands for my parents
2. I never ran out of gas again. Never.
Wednesday, April 21
Embracing the Flatulence
Last night we moved into a small trailer on my in-law's property. We had lived in this trailer before moving to Florida and vowed never to live there again. God thought it would be funny to teach me once more to never say never.
It is a temporary move until we find a more permanent place so we are using the furniture that is already set up. This includes sleeping on a full size bed. I didn't think it was that big of a deal to sleep on a full size comforter when I was first married. I really enjoyed cuddling. Now, we have either become too selfish with our space or gained a few pounds, because it was anything but comfortable.
After tossing and turning last night, I woke up at 4:00am to the water softener making swishing noises every five seconds (I am so not exaggerating). In between the sounds, our dog's stomach was growling. Adding to the symphony was my husband's morning flatulence that is louder than a blow horn.
It was driving me mad. I almost went to the couch to sleep. Almost.
Sometimes when you are in a place that you don't want to be, you just have to go with the flow (like braving the dutch oven that is created under the covers after my husband's morning ritual). Other times, it is necessary to break the pattern and try something new.
Right now Lynn and I are in that waiting place, where the road could lead to anywhere. There are more details to come, so stay tuned. We might just be embracing something new.
It is a temporary move until we find a more permanent place so we are using the furniture that is already set up. This includes sleeping on a full size bed. I didn't think it was that big of a deal to sleep on a full size comforter when I was first married. I really enjoyed cuddling. Now, we have either become too selfish with our space or gained a few pounds, because it was anything but comfortable.
After tossing and turning last night, I woke up at 4:00am to the water softener making swishing noises every five seconds (I am so not exaggerating). In between the sounds, our dog's stomach was growling. Adding to the symphony was my husband's morning flatulence that is louder than a blow horn.
It was driving me mad. I almost went to the couch to sleep. Almost.
Sometimes when you are in a place that you don't want to be, you just have to go with the flow (like braving the dutch oven that is created under the covers after my husband's morning ritual). Other times, it is necessary to break the pattern and try something new.
Right now Lynn and I are in that waiting place, where the road could lead to anywhere. There are more details to come, so stay tuned. We might just be embracing something new.
Monday, April 19
My Dad's Birthday
Today, April 19, was my father's birthday.
I didn't plan to be the sentimentally gushy one on this day but here I am- reliving the week he died and every day since. I can't (and refuse to) pretend that this day is as equally important to those of you who are reading this, but it lessens the load a bit, to know that I can share these thoughts with you. That, at this moment, someone is thinking the same thoughts of my father that I am.
The first night my family was back in Indiana after dad's death, we looked through his nightstand and dresser to see all of the trinkets and papers that he had collected.
In his dresser we noticed a small tin that had been sealed with duct tape. Upon opening the tin, we found a wad of dog hair that belonged to Bailey, our favorite dog. For those of you who don't know, Bailey died on New Years Eve last year.
Audra remembered a conversation with dad before he died, where he told her that if cloning becomes common in the future, we could clone Bailey using the dog hair that he saved. Only my dad, Mr. Dreamer, would have thought to save dog hair. I laugh every time I think about it.
Below is a letter that I found in his nightstand. I had sent it to him on his birthday last year. When we buried him, I placed it in his casket and said goodbye.
Dad:
I have been thinking about you a lot over the past few weeks.
I am so blessed to have a father like you. I think back to all the good memories I have of my childhood. I remember when you would let us “raid” your truck- even when you knew we had been sneaking candy behind your back. I remember how you dreamed about building the house in the country and how, because of you, we were able to grow up surrounded by space.
I remember how you always practiced pitching with me. You made it to every game and helped coach my softball team. I remember your kisses and the red IU shorts you used to wear.
I love you dad. I am so grateful for your consistent presence in my life. You gave your time and your energy. When Lynn remarks that I do something that reminds him of you, I count it as a compliment. So many children don’t have the privilege of having a father. You are so much more than that. You have impacted my life immensely.
Thank you Dad. I love you.
Allison
I didn't plan to be the sentimentally gushy one on this day but here I am- reliving the week he died and every day since. I can't (and refuse to) pretend that this day is as equally important to those of you who are reading this, but it lessens the load a bit, to know that I can share these thoughts with you. That, at this moment, someone is thinking the same thoughts of my father that I am.
The first night my family was back in Indiana after dad's death, we looked through his nightstand and dresser to see all of the trinkets and papers that he had collected.
In his dresser we noticed a small tin that had been sealed with duct tape. Upon opening the tin, we found a wad of dog hair that belonged to Bailey, our favorite dog. For those of you who don't know, Bailey died on New Years Eve last year.
Audra remembered a conversation with dad before he died, where he told her that if cloning becomes common in the future, we could clone Bailey using the dog hair that he saved. Only my dad, Mr. Dreamer, would have thought to save dog hair. I laugh every time I think about it.
Below is a letter that I found in his nightstand. I had sent it to him on his birthday last year. When we buried him, I placed it in his casket and said goodbye.
Dad:
I have been thinking about you a lot over the past few weeks.
I am so blessed to have a father like you. I think back to all the good memories I have of my childhood. I remember when you would let us “raid” your truck- even when you knew we had been sneaking candy behind your back. I remember how you dreamed about building the house in the country and how, because of you, we were able to grow up surrounded by space.
I remember how you always practiced pitching with me. You made it to every game and helped coach my softball team. I remember your kisses and the red IU shorts you used to wear.
I love you dad. I am so grateful for your consistent presence in my life. You gave your time and your energy. When Lynn remarks that I do something that reminds him of you, I count it as a compliment. So many children don’t have the privilege of having a father. You are so much more than that. You have impacted my life immensely.
Thank you Dad. I love you.
Allison
Friday, April 16
We are NOT Related
On a recent trip to Headwater's Park in downtown Fort Wayne, I told my sister and mother that I wanted to take a picture, so please act normal. This was the response.
Thursday, April 8
Cigarettes, Freaky-Looking Elves and My Childhood
When I was young my family lived on Urban Avenue in Auburn. It was a lower-middle class neighborhood with small, mostly clean cut houses. I drove by our old house the other day while I was with my mother. It made me think of that time in my life.
One boy on the street was popular because he used to live in Mississippi. Mississippi was hard to spell, so we all thought it was exotic. He tried to get me to kiss him and I refused. He then talked my sister into kissing him with the offer of a necklace. She did it and I told mom and dad. Oh what a wonderful older sister. I think I just wanted the necklace.
We also had a neighbor who filled her yard with trash, tables, lawn ornaments and freaky-looking elves. My only memory of talking to this woman was the day she was sitting outside, smoking a cigarette.
I walked over to her porch and sat next to her. I was six.
"Did you know that if you smoke, you can die?" I said seriously. I wasn't sure if she had been told and felt it was my duty.
"Yeah, I heard that somewhere," she said as she blew a large puff of smoke into the air.
From the looks of the elves and globes in her yard last week, it appears as if she is still alive. She may have taken my advice. I would like to think that six-year-old me had something to do with making sure that her freaky elves lived to grace Urban Avenue with their presence for a few extra years.
One boy on the street was popular because he used to live in Mississippi. Mississippi was hard to spell, so we all thought it was exotic. He tried to get me to kiss him and I refused. He then talked my sister into kissing him with the offer of a necklace. She did it and I told mom and dad. Oh what a wonderful older sister. I think I just wanted the necklace.
We also had a neighbor who filled her yard with trash, tables, lawn ornaments and freaky-looking elves. My only memory of talking to this woman was the day she was sitting outside, smoking a cigarette.
I walked over to her porch and sat next to her. I was six.
"Did you know that if you smoke, you can die?" I said seriously. I wasn't sure if she had been told and felt it was my duty.
"Yeah, I heard that somewhere," she said as she blew a large puff of smoke into the air.
From the looks of the elves and globes in her yard last week, it appears as if she is still alive. She may have taken my advice. I would like to think that six-year-old me had something to do with making sure that her freaky elves lived to grace Urban Avenue with their presence for a few extra years.
Wednesday, April 7
My Husband the Amish Man?
When my husband and I were first married he had long hair- black ringlets that most women swooned over because they would kill for hair like his. (Don't tell him I told you that.)
An Amish relative had passed away and we were on our way to the funeral. I'm worried that I might offend some of the Amish there because of the length of my hair, my husband said. I told him not to worry about it. We wouldn't be at the funeral for very long.
When we arrived at the small white church, we stood in line to pass by the casket and say our condolences.
As we entered the sanctuary, an Amish man in the front of the room took off his black hat. His hair, which had been combed over his bald spot, fell from the top of his head and past his shoulders. It was inches longer than my husband's hair! Our eyes from that point forward were glued to the front of the room where we noticed that most of the older men who had bald spots grew their hair out that way.
That'll teach me to judge someone based on preconceived notions. I didn't check for earrings though. Hmmm... Should I have checked for hidden earrings?
An Amish relative had passed away and we were on our way to the funeral. I'm worried that I might offend some of the Amish there because of the length of my hair, my husband said. I told him not to worry about it. We wouldn't be at the funeral for very long.
When we arrived at the small white church, we stood in line to pass by the casket and say our condolences.
As we entered the sanctuary, an Amish man in the front of the room took off his black hat. His hair, which had been combed over his bald spot, fell from the top of his head and past his shoulders. It was inches longer than my husband's hair! Our eyes from that point forward were glued to the front of the room where we noticed that most of the older men who had bald spots grew their hair out that way.
That'll teach me to judge someone based on preconceived notions. I didn't check for earrings though. Hmmm... Should I have checked for hidden earrings?
Tuesday, April 6
You Know it's a Bad Day When you Lose your Balls and you Have a Cone for a Head
I spent some time at my mother's house this past weekend. The family dog, Brody, just had his balls chopped off and his dew claws removed so he was forced to wear a cone around his neck. Poor guy.
I don't know what would be worse- losing your balls or having to maneuver around the house with a cone for a head.
He'd run into corners and my mom had to pull the coffee table away from the couch because his head couldn't fit through the space when he tried to walk there. Then frustration set in when he couldn't find a comfortable way to sleep and each time he'd throw himself down as if to say, I give up!
I couldn't stop laughing whenever I heard the plastic cone hit the couch, the window, my legs, the refrigerator....
Poor. Cute. Brody.
I don't know what would be worse- losing your balls or having to maneuver around the house with a cone for a head.
He'd run into corners and my mom had to pull the coffee table away from the couch because his head couldn't fit through the space when he tried to walk there. Then frustration set in when he couldn't find a comfortable way to sleep and each time he'd throw himself down as if to say, I give up!
I couldn't stop laughing whenever I heard the plastic cone hit the couch, the window, my legs, the refrigerator....
Poor. Cute. Brody.
Monday, April 5
Do it for the Children!
I don't have many pet peeves. I can usually understand why people do the things that they do, even if they are kind of annoying. This helps me to go through life with a good attitude.
But I have to say it. I can't stand it when someone throws trash out of their car window. CAN'T STAND IT!
I don't understand the thinking that goes behind this act. The only possible explanation that I can come up with is that the person is lazy.
Last night we were driving behind a vehicle sporting a "Committed to Education" license plate and as we sat at a red light the booger threw a package of cigarettes out of the window. Are you serious? Are you too lazy to take the feather-weight empty package and carry it to a trash can?
When we saw this, my husband honked his horn for, no joke, ten seconds. The car pulled into a gas station a short time later and my sister yelled out of the window, "MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE EDUCATED ABOUT LITTERING FOOL!" Ok, I added the fool part- but come on.
I know that they probably didn't hear what my sister said or understand why my husband was honking but I'd like to think that we did a little something for the world.
We thought about stopping, grabbing the cigarette package and pulling in the gas station to tell the driver that he dropped something. Then we thought better of it because he may have a shotgun. This IS Indiana.
If for no other reason, do it for the children, man.
But I have to say it. I can't stand it when someone throws trash out of their car window. CAN'T STAND IT!
I don't understand the thinking that goes behind this act. The only possible explanation that I can come up with is that the person is lazy.
Last night we were driving behind a vehicle sporting a "Committed to Education" license plate and as we sat at a red light the booger threw a package of cigarettes out of the window. Are you serious? Are you too lazy to take the feather-weight empty package and carry it to a trash can?
When we saw this, my husband honked his horn for, no joke, ten seconds. The car pulled into a gas station a short time later and my sister yelled out of the window, "MAYBE YOU SHOULD BE EDUCATED ABOUT LITTERING FOOL!" Ok, I added the fool part- but come on.
I know that they probably didn't hear what my sister said or understand why my husband was honking but I'd like to think that we did a little something for the world.
We thought about stopping, grabbing the cigarette package and pulling in the gas station to tell the driver that he dropped something. Then we thought better of it because he may have a shotgun. This IS Indiana.
If for no other reason, do it for the children, man.
Thursday, April 1
Friendly Faces and Far Off Places
Last night I went out with three of my best friends from my high school years. We ate Mexican food, talked about life and relaxed at Starbucks. Yes, Starbucks. MUST HAVE STARBUCKS.
Susan is an avid traveler and has been to every continent. In another week she is flying to Kenya and then will spend some time driving across Europe. I want to fit in her suitcase. Should I try it?
Rachel is a missionary in Ethiopia and her family is in The States for a few months. Rachel and Argaw, her husband, started an orphanage there and have three children. "It's a risky business making babies, but somebody has gotta do it," she said with a laugh.
Kristen is a home health care nurse who lives in the Fort Wayne area and knows all of the interesting and fun haunts here. The other night before my art museum escapade we couldn't think of a place to eat so we called her up. She is one of the most joyful people I know.
I LOVE that I can keep in touch with these women.
I can't wait to be old and hear what we are passionate about. Last night we talked about God, sex, family, death, traveling and writing. Fifty years from now we will either be obsessed with our dentures or excited about life. From the looks of this group, I am betting it will be the latter.
Susan is an avid traveler and has been to every continent. In another week she is flying to Kenya and then will spend some time driving across Europe. I want to fit in her suitcase. Should I try it?
Rachel is a missionary in Ethiopia and her family is in The States for a few months. Rachel and Argaw, her husband, started an orphanage there and have three children. "It's a risky business making babies, but somebody has gotta do it," she said with a laugh.
Kristen is a home health care nurse who lives in the Fort Wayne area and knows all of the interesting and fun haunts here. The other night before my art museum escapade we couldn't think of a place to eat so we called her up. She is one of the most joyful people I know.
Susan, Rachel, Kristen and Genesis (Rachel's baby)
I LOVE that I can keep in touch with these women.
I can't wait to be old and hear what we are passionate about. Last night we talked about God, sex, family, death, traveling and writing. Fifty years from now we will either be obsessed with our dentures or excited about life. From the looks of this group, I am betting it will be the latter.
Wednesday, March 31
Conversations with Lynn: On Children
While Sitting in Lynn's Studio
Lynn: You know- when we have children we are going to have one child who is an awesome musician and another one who is really good at sports.
Me: Maybe. When we have kids, I want to give them the chance to succeed.
Lynn: With your competitiveness and my love, we'll have well-rounded children.
Me: Did you really just say that?
Lynn: You know- when we have children we are going to have one child who is an awesome musician and another one who is really good at sports.
Me: Maybe. When we have kids, I want to give them the chance to succeed.
Lynn: With your competitiveness and my love, we'll have well-rounded children.
Me: Did you really just say that?
Monday, March 29
Saturday Night Stink Eye
Saturday night my husband, sister and I went to the grand reopening of the Fort Wayne Museum of Art. I pulled out my iPhone and took pictures of the crowd. I didn't see any signs that mentioned that picture-taking was prohibited, so I had fun with it.
While making our rounds in the final art gallery, I told my sister to stand in front of this brightly colored painting. I took the picture and a moment later a tall lady tapped me on the shoulder. "You are not allowed to take pictures in the gallery," she said and pursed her lips. "I'm sorry," I murmured and put the phone away.
Ashley said that from that point on the woman never stopped giving me the stink eye. We noticed that as we left the gallery, she followed us. I tried not to make eye contact and made sure my hands were in view so she knew I wasn't taking the forbidden pictures.
In these particular situations, I keep the mindset that I will probably never see the woman again, so there is no need to worry about what she thinks.
But to be honest, she was kind of scary. I am sure that I will have nightmares of the woman tapping me on the shoulder, wagging her finger and tisk-tisking with her pursed lips.
Below, however, are a few of the pictures that I took which do not include any up-close photos of artwork (notice I blurred out the paintings in the background of the second picture). It is too bad really. Some of the photos with art were pretty awesome.
While making our rounds in the final art gallery, I told my sister to stand in front of this brightly colored painting. I took the picture and a moment later a tall lady tapped me on the shoulder. "You are not allowed to take pictures in the gallery," she said and pursed her lips. "I'm sorry," I murmured and put the phone away.
Ashley said that from that point on the woman never stopped giving me the stink eye. We noticed that as we left the gallery, she followed us. I tried not to make eye contact and made sure my hands were in view so she knew I wasn't taking the forbidden pictures.
In these particular situations, I keep the mindset that I will probably never see the woman again, so there is no need to worry about what she thinks.
But to be honest, she was kind of scary. I am sure that I will have nightmares of the woman tapping me on the shoulder, wagging her finger and tisk-tisking with her pursed lips.
Below, however, are a few of the pictures that I took which do not include any up-close photos of artwork (notice I blurred out the paintings in the background of the second picture). It is too bad really. Some of the photos with art were pretty awesome.
Wednesday, March 24
Conrad the Stilt Walker
This last weekend my sister, mother and I drove around Fort Wayne and window-shopped for houses in a particular neighborhood. As we got out of our vehicle to look inside a house that was for sale we noticed an older gentleman walking down the sidewalk.
The man, we later learned to be Conrad Teff, was guiding a boy who was shakily balancing on stilts. He yelled out, "This here is a nice neighborhood if you are looking to buy." His movements were slow because the boy was a beginner.
"Where did you get the stilts?" we asked.
"Oh, I used to be a stilt walker."
"Why'd you first decide to learn?"
"Well, it was either do bad and evil things or learn stilts."
Personally, I went to youth group to stay out of trouble. Stilts could have worked. To each his own, I guess.
The man, we later learned to be Conrad Teff, was guiding a boy who was shakily balancing on stilts. He yelled out, "This here is a nice neighborhood if you are looking to buy." His movements were slow because the boy was a beginner.
"Where did you get the stilts?" we asked.
"Oh, I used to be a stilt walker."
"Why'd you first decide to learn?"
"Well, it was either do bad and evil things or learn stilts."
Personally, I went to youth group to stay out of trouble. Stilts could have worked. To each his own, I guess.
Monday, March 22
Evil Worm Fish = Uncontrollable Urination
When my sister was little, she loved animals. Along with multiple hamsters, Ashley collected exotic fish and creatures for her aquarium. She had albino see-through frogs, really cool fish that had bulges and the worm fish.
The person at the store assured Ashley that the worm fish was vegetarian and that all of her fish would be safe. But, from the first moment I laid eyes on that worm, eel-like thing, I called it evil. I hated it. I just knew that when I slept it would find its way up to my room to bite me.
My mother arrived in Ashley's room one day and found that the worm fish was half way out of the tank (on its way to bite me). My mother, who herself was freaked out by the devil fish, sent Ashley to retrieve a glove so she could poke it back in the aquarium. While Ashley was on her errand, the eel fell on the floor and my mom, after a scream or two, peed her pants.
She couldn't blame this on age. It was from pure fright. I think if a grey, squirming creature was attacking me, I would pee my pants too.
After Ashley found a glove, (and rubbed in the fact that her mother, a grown up, had peed her pants,) they somehow shoved the eel back in the aquarium.
Sometime later Ashley started noticing that her fish were disappearing. My family couldn't figure out which of the fish were eating the others. They had it in their heads that it was the bottom feeder. Duh.
One day one of my siblings caught the evil thing with an albino frog leg hanging out of its mouth. We placed it in a different bowl and it died a day or two afterward from reasons unknown. I think it was possessed.
RIP devil fish. Good riddance.
The person at the store assured Ashley that the worm fish was vegetarian and that all of her fish would be safe. But, from the first moment I laid eyes on that worm, eel-like thing, I called it evil. I hated it. I just knew that when I slept it would find its way up to my room to bite me.
My mother arrived in Ashley's room one day and found that the worm fish was half way out of the tank (on its way to bite me). My mother, who herself was freaked out by the devil fish, sent Ashley to retrieve a glove so she could poke it back in the aquarium. While Ashley was on her errand, the eel fell on the floor and my mom, after a scream or two, peed her pants.
She couldn't blame this on age. It was from pure fright. I think if a grey, squirming creature was attacking me, I would pee my pants too.
After Ashley found a glove, (and rubbed in the fact that her mother, a grown up, had peed her pants,) they somehow shoved the eel back in the aquarium.
Sometime later Ashley started noticing that her fish were disappearing. My family couldn't figure out which of the fish were eating the others. They had it in their heads that it was the bottom feeder. Duh.
One day one of my siblings caught the evil thing with an albino frog leg hanging out of its mouth. We placed it in a different bowl and it died a day or two afterward from reasons unknown. I think it was possessed.
RIP devil fish. Good riddance.
Friday, March 19
60-Year-Old Zeus
When Lynn and I were first married we took a trip to Florida with my family for vacation. One evening we walked the beach and passed by one of the most interesting men I have ever met.
I don't remember his name, but this middle-aged man wore a leopard print Speedo, had long wavy hair, a hairy chest with beads dangling to his belly and his cheeks were freckled from the sun.
We learned that he was walking the beach because he loved watching the turtles lay eggs.
"I love all living things," he said. "I am Zeus, Buddha, Jesus, John the Baptist and Paul. I died on the cross. I control the seas. I love all creatures."
We asked him what he meant by that. He said that he is eternity and he has been reincarnated hundreds of times.
"It is all about the love, man. Love. I would never harm a single person. I have never hated anyone."
As the conversation continued, we realized that this man may have some issues. Lynn, finding his rantings ridiculous, said, "So, what if I punched you right now? Would you still feel the love?"
The man just smiled.
He made me think. Love is not all gumdrops and rainbows. Love can be difficult to do.
It is an action.
When someone punches you in the jaw, it could mean turning your cheek to him also. Or, if it was my sister, it could mean a wrestling match. I am just sayin'.
I don't remember his name, but this middle-aged man wore a leopard print Speedo, had long wavy hair, a hairy chest with beads dangling to his belly and his cheeks were freckled from the sun.
We learned that he was walking the beach because he loved watching the turtles lay eggs.
"I love all living things," he said. "I am Zeus, Buddha, Jesus, John the Baptist and Paul. I died on the cross. I control the seas. I love all creatures."
We asked him what he meant by that. He said that he is eternity and he has been reincarnated hundreds of times.
"It is all about the love, man. Love. I would never harm a single person. I have never hated anyone."
As the conversation continued, we realized that this man may have some issues. Lynn, finding his rantings ridiculous, said, "So, what if I punched you right now? Would you still feel the love?"
The man just smiled.
He made me think. Love is not all gumdrops and rainbows. Love can be difficult to do.
It is an action.
When someone punches you in the jaw, it could mean turning your cheek to him also. Or, if it was my sister, it could mean a wrestling match. I am just sayin'.
Wednesday, March 17
The Inappropriate Lunch Lady
So, my husband told me yesterday that he had an interesting interaction with the cafeteria lady at work.
Upon arriving up at the counter, the woman said to my husband, "I've been meaning to tell you that you have beautiful hair. It makes me want to run my fingers through it."
My husband, Mr. Quiet, was like, "Um... I get that a lot." What else is he supposed to say? Here! Run your fingers through my hair right over my tray of food and while you are at it, pinch my cheeks like an annoying extended family member.
It reminded me of the time that we went to Applebees and the waitress arrived at our table for the first time. She looked at me and said, "Whoa! Your eyes! They are like, seeing right through me. I can't even look at them."
Awkward.
I can just imagine what our children will look like. Someday people will have the unexplainable urge to run their fingers through our children's hair while at the same time be unable to look at them in the eyes.
I am sorry future child of mine.
P.S. Whenever I think of a lunch lady I think of Chris Farley on Saturday Night Live.
Upon arriving up at the counter, the woman said to my husband, "I've been meaning to tell you that you have beautiful hair. It makes me want to run my fingers through it."
My husband, Mr. Quiet, was like, "Um... I get that a lot." What else is he supposed to say? Here! Run your fingers through my hair right over my tray of food and while you are at it, pinch my cheeks like an annoying extended family member.
It reminded me of the time that we went to Applebees and the waitress arrived at our table for the first time. She looked at me and said, "Whoa! Your eyes! They are like, seeing right through me. I can't even look at them."
Awkward.
I can just imagine what our children will look like. Someday people will have the unexplainable urge to run their fingers through our children's hair while at the same time be unable to look at them in the eyes.
I am sorry future child of mine.
P.S. Whenever I think of a lunch lady I think of Chris Farley on Saturday Night Live.
Monday, March 15
My Own Personal Banana Boat
While riding in the car this past week, my mother said, "Do you remember that yellow car you used to drive? We should never have let you use it. That thing was a boat."
The car in mention was my first car, a 1976 Buick Century Special. I called it my banana boat (not to be confused with banana hammock). It was a beast of a car.
My friend Lena from Germany thought it was so unique looking, she wouldn't go back to her country without getting a picture in front of it.
The exterior was bright yellow with the occasional rust spot. The interior was black and white checkered. My sister refused to be seen in it and even though she would have had a ride to school, she chose to take the bus.
I thought it was awesome.
I guess when my dad opened up the hood of the car for the first time at our house, a rat with a giant parasite infected hole in its side jumped out into the field. The door handle would not latch so, picture this, whenever I made a right hand turn I had to hold the door shut otherwise it would fly open. It took skills to keep the car running.
One day as I was driving through Auburn, the light turned red ahead. I stepped on the breaks and realized that they didn't work. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing to no avail. Lucky for me there was a brand new pickup truck stopped at the light just ahead (not). I rammed into his bumper twice. Being the wise teenager that I was, I started weeping like a baby so the man with the $35,000 pickup would be less likely to yell at me.
My boat didn't have a scratch on it, but I did $1,700 worth of damage to the pansy pickup truck. Take that, Ford.
They just don't make them there vehicles like they used to. It wasn't too much later that we got rid of the boat. I think we might have paid someone to take it off of our hands.
The car in mention was my first car, a 1976 Buick Century Special. I called it my banana boat (not to be confused with banana hammock). It was a beast of a car.
My friend Lena from Germany thought it was so unique looking, she wouldn't go back to her country without getting a picture in front of it.
The exterior was bright yellow with the occasional rust spot. The interior was black and white checkered. My sister refused to be seen in it and even though she would have had a ride to school, she chose to take the bus.
I thought it was awesome.
I guess when my dad opened up the hood of the car for the first time at our house, a rat with a giant parasite infected hole in its side jumped out into the field. The door handle would not latch so, picture this, whenever I made a right hand turn I had to hold the door shut otherwise it would fly open. It took skills to keep the car running.
One day as I was driving through Auburn, the light turned red ahead. I stepped on the breaks and realized that they didn't work. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing to no avail. Lucky for me there was a brand new pickup truck stopped at the light just ahead (not). I rammed into his bumper twice. Being the wise teenager that I was, I started weeping like a baby so the man with the $35,000 pickup would be less likely to yell at me.
My boat didn't have a scratch on it, but I did $1,700 worth of damage to the pansy pickup truck. Take that, Ford.
They just don't make them there vehicles like they used to. It wasn't too much later that we got rid of the boat. I think we might have paid someone to take it off of our hands.
Tuesday, March 9
Starbucks, God and Vampires
I spent the day yesterday packing. Again. And the rest of the day I traveled. Again.
I don't mind traveling, but honestly I prefer the open road to the airport. I can't even count how many airplanes I have been on and to my ever-expanding thighs the comfort level lessens every time.
My mother and I arrived at Spokane, Washington last night at 11:00pm to visit my brother (that is 11:00 pm West Coast time- 2:00 am Indiana time). I still have not caught up on my sleep from my drive from Florida to Indiana.
I thought about this fact this morning and how I KNOW that God placed a million Starbucks in Washington just so I can stay awake this week.
I used an IPhone application to search for the nearest Starbucks locations. I found eight within a two mile radius of our hotel! If that isn't direct evidence of God's love, I don't know what is.
After spending the morning exploring my brother's university, we are off to Western Washington to stay in Port Angeles. And for all of you Twilight fans out there, we are going to Forks. Yes, the vampire infested, werewolf ravaged, Forks.
See you there.
P.S. I flew through Phoenix and as I was sitting at my gate, I thought, "Bella ran right down this hallway. I bet she escaped from Alice and Jasper in that restroom right over there."
I don't mind traveling, but honestly I prefer the open road to the airport. I can't even count how many airplanes I have been on and to my ever-expanding thighs the comfort level lessens every time.
My mother and I arrived at Spokane, Washington last night at 11:00pm to visit my brother (that is 11:00 pm West Coast time- 2:00 am Indiana time). I still have not caught up on my sleep from my drive from Florida to Indiana.
I thought about this fact this morning and how I KNOW that God placed a million Starbucks in Washington just so I can stay awake this week.
I used an IPhone application to search for the nearest Starbucks locations. I found eight within a two mile radius of our hotel! If that isn't direct evidence of God's love, I don't know what is.
After spending the morning exploring my brother's university, we are off to Western Washington to stay in Port Angeles. And for all of you Twilight fans out there, we are going to Forks. Yes, the vampire infested, werewolf ravaged, Forks.
See you there.
P.S. I flew through Phoenix and as I was sitting at my gate, I thought, "Bella ran right down this hallway. I bet she escaped from Alice and Jasper in that restroom right over there."
Wednesday, March 3
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