Leaves

I keep posting pictures because I have not had time to write.

Read this post and this post for why.

That's right, being the appointed class secretary and planning a reunion is keeping me pretty busy. The event is two weeks away and I still have menus to select, decorations to figure out, RSVPs to count, checks to write and Guilder to frame for it. I'm swamped.

Charm

Max gets his charm from me.

It may be difficult to hear but Max says he wants to give the leaf to his mom because it is beautiful just like her.

(Please note no Wyatts were hurt in filming this scene although it appears so)

Is it Sunday Yet?

My fantasy football teams are pretty much in the crapper right now.

How are your teams doing?

The Con

The dictionary defines the word "Con" as :To swindle or trick, to persuade by deception.

A true Con artist is patient and lets the con unfold over time in an effort to gain the CONfidence of the person they plan on duping. Most times a Con artist exploits their victims weakness such as greed or love or vanity.

The Con Artist: Lauren
The Victim: Me
My Weakness: Sausage, Biscuits and Gravy

I love sausage. Any kind, although I prefer the breakfast variety. I would eat sausage for every meal. (I know my brothers are laughing at me confessing my love of sausage and all the innuendo that statement possesses). Now I am going to mess with people's google searches by my next statement. Sausage is like Sex. There is no such thing as bad sex, or Sausage. Sure, some times some are better than others, but either way you are still getting some. Just like Ice Cream.

One of my favorite meals to have is Sausage, Biscuits and Gravy. When we lived in Florida, the South, I could order this meal almost any where and any time. Now that I live back in the North, not so much. There are a few places that try to make it but for the most part the only place that does a halfway decent job is Cracker Barrel. The closest Cracker Barrel to us is in Plymouth Meeting, a 30 minute ride and it is always crowded, so we never go.

A few weeks ago Lauren started to drop hints that maybe we should go to Cracker Barrel for breakfast. Every time she mentioned it we had already eaten and were busy with something else. She was teasing me. She was patient and she started the con early to gain my confidence. She was laying the groundwork. She mentioned it again this past Sunday morning. We had already eaten breakfast and we were busy.

The day went by and all I could think of was having Biscuits and Gravy.

Around 3 PM Sunday afternoon Lauren suggested we go to Cracker Barrel for Dinner. They would have enough choices for the kids and Lauren for a normal dinner and I could have Brinner of sausage biscuits and gravy. She exploited my weakness. I was sold and was excited with anticipation knowing that I would have my favorite meal in just a couple of hours.

Later, as we were packing the kids in the car, Lauren said, "Since we are going out to Plymouth Meeting I figured we could just stop by the IKEA which is right down the street."

And there it was, the greatest con.

I hate IKEA. IKEA is like going to Joann Fabrics. It is like the Pit of Despair. It is like Hell.

Lauren baited me with Cracker Barrel and switched in IKEA. We were in IKEA for an hour. I did eventually get the Biscuits and Gravy but it cost me a piece of my soul.

Observing the changes

Everyone says that the time flies when your kids are young. That "this age will be over before you know it" and all of the other cliches. I know that cliches are cliches because they are true.

Both Maxfield and Wyatt are at developmental phases in their lives and they are both changing. I have been really trying hard to pay attention to those changes so I can remember them in the future. Wyatt is in his terrible twos, full swing, and is speaking in full defiant sentences that both piss me off and crack me up. Wyatt does not simply yell "NO" to tell us he is not going to do something. He explains it to us.

"I do not want to eat my peas. I do not want to eat my meat. I want you to get me dessert. Now. Pleeaaase." Is Wyatt's way of explaining he is not going to eat his dinner.

Every parent knows that the terrible twos is the first phase the child goes through in order to make their own choices and become more independent.

Now Max, on the other hand, knows that he is independent. He is growing up so nicely into a little boy I am afraid I am going to turn around and he will be a teenager. I have been paying particularly close attention to him and the changes he is going through. He is on his way out of that "terrible toddler defiant" mode. I have become so used to some of his tantrums as a toddler that I forgot that Max would eventually be a little boy. Sure he still has his moments of crying and carrying on but they are becoming fewer and farther between.

Over the past few weeks I have been lucky enough to see him in settings I am not used to witnessing. I attended a school trip, a school function, a birthday party and there was Halloween. At each one of the these occasions I found myself in awe of his ability to adapt and fit in and make the right decisions and do the right thing.

On his school trip I was on his turf and he took the lead. He introduced me to some kids in his class. Without prodding or suggestions Max said, "This is my dad. Dad this is Julianna. And this is Andre." I could not stop smiling at how proud I was of him for taking the initiative. The rest of the trip he made the decisions as to where we would sit on the hay ride and what pumpkins we would pick and even when we would leave. He is growing from a toddler to a little boy right in front of my eyes.

At the birthday party he introduced himself to a couple of other kids and he went off to play with them by himself. Some of the older kids were playing wiffle ball and Max got his turn at bat. When he struck out, he did not cry or demand a do over. Max gave the bat the next kid. Max did the right thing.

While trick or treating Max said "thank you" at every house. He is saying the right things. Max is no longer a toddler. He is a little boy.

Like I said, I have been watching him. I am noticing the changes. Max holds conversation with adults and he uses words like "actually" and "prefers" and "condensation" and other words I did not think a four year old would know. He talks about God and "What ifs" and dreams. I am not saying that Max is smart I am just amazed that he is paying attention to us and to himself too. Max is a little boy growing into a big boy.

Lately I have been overwhelmed with mixed feelings regarding how much Max has grown, physically, mentally and emotionally, over the past 10 months. I am proud of his independence but it also saddens me. For the past four and half years of his life I have been his best friend. But now, he is becoming independent of me. I am losing my little guy. He still needs me, but needs me less and less. I know he is now starting down the path where I have to be more of a father to him than his friend. I am sad because I am losing my friend Max.

This morning the whole family went to the playground and I was thinking about how grown and independent Max is when I let him run ahead of me. The invisible tether, in which I have had him leashed to me, is getting longer and longer. I felt sad. I tried to focus my attention to Wyatt who still needs someone to push him on the swing and follow him up the ladders to the slides, who still needs a friend.

I watched Max converse with other kids and he did not need me to steer the conversation. I let Max talk to other adults and watched how he conducted himself and I was very proud of him. I realized that "time was flying" as I helped Wyatt up some tire steps and I thought about how I used to do the same with Max. My heart stung a little. And as I was caught up in my own little world I realized Max was not playing with anyone else. He was sitting by himself in the sand box, his head, looking up at the trees, tilted slightly to one side, his bottom lip slightly protruding from his top lip. He sat there, that way, for a few minutes.

I handed Wyatt off to Lauren and I walked over to see if everything was okay. Part of me knew he was thinking of something profound about God and the trees changing colors and the chilly November winds. Part of me was hoping he was going to ask me to play with him. And maybe I got a bit of sand in my eye and a little lump in my throat because I was missing my little boy immensely when I finally asked him if everything was alright.

He turned his head towards me and I could see the sun glistening off his face.

"I'm fine dad. I am just trying to eat my snot." He said and he licked his upper lip.

I smiled from ear to ear. My little boy was back for a few minutes at least.

Costumes

Halloween was fun. Max was a robot.

Franken-Wyatt ...


...and I dressed as a cowboy, or as my brother Kevin would say since I have so much grey in my beard, Kenny Rogers.

Lauren made the kid's costumes and some awesome Eye Ball Treats.

The recipe for the eye balls and more pics can be seen at Lauren's site GigglePotamus.

Favorite Son

I was my dad's favorite son.

No really I was. Well, not all the time, but there was the fall of 1986 and the fall of 1987 when I was his favorite son. He would admit it and my seven brothers knew it too.

When I turned 16 and I got my driver's license there were 4 kids of legal driving age that lived at home. Plus my parents, there were a total of 6 drivers with only two cars. The kids were always asking to use the car. My dad always wanted to have one of the cars at home so that left 1 car for 4 kids. The old policy was whoever asked first got first dibs on the car.

We, of course, would argue over who got to use it and when. We were all different and hung out in different crowds so there was rarely any sharing of the car. Besides, having the car meant that you could actually go out on a date. It would be awkward to try and go to "inspiration point" while your brother was in the back seat waiting to get driven home from a party.

That was when my dad came up with the Favorite Son Policy.

His policy was quite simple. Whoever was involved in an extracurricular activity that would entertain my dad (sports) would have first pick of using the car. If two of us were involved in the same sport, first pick would go to the person that was either on the Varsity squad or who actually started in the game.

That was why I was the favorite son in the fall of 86 and 87. At that time there were really only two of us fighting over the car, my brother LawnWhisperer and myself. I played football and LW played basketball. The early part of the fall of 86, my junior year, I was not on the varsity team, so LW and I would argue every weekend over the car. But then, Tim A, the starting wide receiver became academically ineligible (he was failing Spanish I think) to play football and I got to start on the varsity team. I did not care that I was now the starting wide receiver for the football team as a junior, I was more excited that I was officially the favorite son.


I got the car whenever I wanted it. LW would ask to use the car on a Friday night, I could invoke the Favorite Son Rule and get the car instead of him. I can still remember the chilly nights after the games, with the stadium lights glowing down on us, my dad would throw me the keys to the car and occasionally slip me a 10 dollar bill and tell me to have a good time. My social status amongst my friends shot up because now I could drive to get Slurpees after the game. I was the favorite. LawnWhisperer would have to ride a bike to see his girlfriend or bum a ride from someone else. It was good to be the favorite.

Of course right after Thanksgiving, football would end and basketball would start. I was no longer the favorite. The title went to LW. My social status in school plummeted. I was now the one riding my bike to see my girlfriend or friends. Basketball being the winter sport and all it was quite cold on my bike. I think LW got the better season to be the favorite.

The fall of 87, with LW away at college and my younger brothers not old enough to drive, there was less competition for the car. Occasionally my mom would want the car for something but I would trump her request and invoke Favorite Son Rule and I usually won.

Sound it out

"Wua...Wua...Wua. Wa...wa...wa. One." Maxfield said as he stared at his alphabet and number place mat sounding out various letters and words. "The number one starts with W."

He was very proud of himself.

"Actually Max, when you spell the number one, it starts with an O." I corrected him. "It makes the W sound but it is an O."

Max stared at me with a confused look as his lips pursed making a W sound. Grasping the English language is challenging to a four year old.

"Actually Max," Lauren chimed in from across the room. "The word won, as in, I won the game, starts with the letter W. So you are kinda right."

Max beamed as his mother confirmed his spelling and word sounding skills. Lauren walked over and rustled his hair. Max looked up at her and smiled.

"Mommy," he said. "You are more smarter than Daddy."

Wait until he finds out that the Knuckle Sandwich I give him starts with the letter K.

Candy Corn

"Bill, you are not allowed to buy candy corn ever again."

"Okay. Why?"

"I can't stop eating them."

The next day.

"Bill, where are the candy corn?"

"I ate them all."

"You ate the whole bag?"

"Yes. You said you didn't want them in the house."

"No. I said you shouldn't buy any more. Not that you should eat an entire bag by yourself. "

"I was just trying to help out."

Best Team Ever Phillies

The Fighting Phils.

Morning conversation

Every morning, around 5:30, as I am waiting for the coffee to brew, Wyatt and I have this exact conversation. Every morning.

I have written about the show Yo Gabba Gabba before and I am amazed that he is still addicted to it. It is the first thing Wyatt asks for when he gets up.

Dewey Decimal Dilemma

A few weeks ago I started taking Maxfield to the library on Saturdays while Wyatt naps. We read a couple of books while we are there and then we pick out a few books to take home with us. Sometimes we even take out a few movies.

Every week we ask the librarian for suggestions based on our previous weeks likes. For instance we read Ted by Tony DiTerlizzi and the next week the librarian suggested Jimmy Zangwow's Moon Pie Adventure also by DiTelrizzi (we also discovered that Diterlizzi wrote something called the Spiderwick Chronicles which I am sure Max will like in a few years and we learned that one of DiTerlizzi's influences is Maxfield Parrish which is very cool with us).

This past Saturday, I was flipping through the movies and I watched Max a few aisles away pick out his books from the picture book section. He took his time making sure he would like his selections and then he came over to me to choose his movies.

This was his selection this week.




Max is fascinated with Lauren's pregnancy and when he saw this he had to have it. I have no idea what it was doing in the kid's section. I think the Dewey Decimal system is messed up.

Grundle

For the most part, I handle giving the kids their baths. Some nights I treat them like pots and pans that have crusted burnt cheese stuck to them and I just let them soak. Other nights I give them a good cleaning making sure I scrub all their nooks and crannies.

Maxfield has been testing his independence lately and has been asking to wash himself. I started a little game with the kids to make sure that Max washes every part of his body as I wash Wyatt. I ask both Max and Wyatt where certain parts of their bodies are and then he uses the soap and wash cloth to clean that part.

"Where are your shoulders?" I ask.

I clean Wyatt's shoulder and then Max scrubs his shoulders.

"Where is your collar bone?"

He will then scrub his neck and upper chest.

"Where is your arm pit? Good job. Where is your bicep? Okay now wash your elbow pit. Now wash your forearm and your wrist?"

Elbow Pit? Yes. That is what I call the area between the bicep and forearm? Is there a name for it?

The other night we were playing this game and I was introducing new words to them. Instead of saying leg I told them to wash their shins and then their calves.

"Wash your thighs. Good Job. Now your knees. Okay, wash your shins. That is the front part of your lower leg."

"Shins?" Max asked.

"Yes. Shins and the back part is called your calf. Now wash your ankles. This part on your ankle is called the Achilles." I said and I pointed to it. "Now wash your knee pit."

We were finishing up when I told Max to wash his groin.

"Gwoin" He said. "What's that?"

"That's the area between your legs around your penis. And the area under your penis, that is your grundle."

"Gwundle? That's a silly word. I will call it my penis pit."

Its not the question but the facial expression that goes with it

"Bill, when you got the boys dressed this morning, did you pick out their outfits or did you let them pick them out?"

"I picked them out. Why?

"I was just......(sigh)...checking."

Mean spirited

If you were at pumkin patch this past weekend and you just happened to be standing next to one of the parking lot guys as he said into his walkie talkie to another parking lot guy (he was speaking about the orange flags they were waving), "Stick it up in the air and wave it so people can see it." what would you say?

That's what she said.

If you were at the same pumpkin patch and the blue grass band that was playing said "If you have any requests just yell them out." What would you yell?

Freebird

We went on a hayride and there were about 15 people on the ride, 8 of which were kids. The guy driving the tractor stopped to tell us about certain aspects of the farm. At one point he went on for a very long time about how many pounds of feed could and would be stored in one of the silos. He went on for a 10 minutes. The kids, not just mine, were getting antsy. I said to Lauren, maybe a bit too loud, "If I knew this was going to educational I would not have brought the kids." Which got me looks from a few of the other folks on the ride. Was what the guy was saying interesting? Yes. But not to children under 5. I was bascially saying "let's speed this up" without trying to be rude.

Sometimes I just say the stuff that comes to my mind which causes an eyeroll from Lauren. Most times I am trying to be funny but other times I am merely speaking what is on my mind and it can be interpreted as mean or mean spirited.

On the drive home Lauren and I discussed the fine line between funny, mean spirited and honesty.

"Do you know how many times I wanted to kill you, when we were dating, for things that came out of your mouth?" She asked.

"Really?" I asked back.

"Yes. There were many times you have said something to somone and I was mortified."

We laughed at the various circumstances Lauren could remember.

Later that day I was looking for my sunglasses.

"Lauren do you know where my other pair of sunglasses are?"

"What's wrong with the glasses you have in your hand."

"I like the other ones better."

"What's the difference. They are both ugly."

Was she being funny, mean spirited or honest?



That is not a pumkin under there.

Compound

I live 6 miles from my mom's house. I am the closest child who lives outside of the "compound". The "compound" is my mom's neighborhood. Somebody started to call it the "compound" when my brother Jim (AKA The Favorite) bought a house 5 blocks from my parent's house. In an effort to try and out-do Jim and become the favorite, my brother Mike bought a house 4 blocks from my parent's house. My parent's neighborhood is now called the "compound" by the rest of us.

Since Mike and Jim live so close to my mom they are the first ones to be called when something needs to be done. A foot and half of snow in the driveway, they get called to shovel. Water in the basement from a heavy rain, they go and shop-vac. Mom needs help moving furniture, they are the first to be called. When I lived with my parents, last year, I was part of the "compound". I felt kinda of special. I mean, I was never really accepted as one of them because the living arrangment was temporary but it was cool to fit in for a bit. I knew that my mom loved me a little bit more than those that did not live in the compound.

And then, even after I bought a house in the same town as my folks, It was deemed too far away to be part of the compound. I no longer felt special. I felt like I was demoted. I was not as loved as Mike and Jim.

Last Saturday the "Compound Kids" were away and I got the call. It was about 9PM and I had just put on my pajamas and was eating a bowl of ice cream when the phone rang. I answered.

"Bill." The other voice on the phone said, "I need you to do me a favor. Well it is not me who needs the favor, it is Mom that needs the favor. You see I am at work and Jimmy is out of town and Mom needs a favor."

The way that he asked it almost seemed like he was using a code. Almost like he was ashamed to ask me, a non compound person, to step in.

"What do you need Mike?" I asked.

"Mom is watching Jim's kids overnight tonight. She went outside to check on something and saw that there was a dead rabbit on the driveway. She does not want the kids to see the rabbit if they go out to play in the morning. She needs someone to go and clean it up."

"A dead rabbit? Really?"

"Yeah. I would do it when I get done work but that would be at 2 in the morning."

"Okay. I will go over there now." I said and I hung up the phone.

I put together my "dead rabbit clean up kit" which consisted of a shovel, two trash bags and a pair of garden gloves and headed over to my Moms. I made quick work of the clean up and put the rabbit's body in two plastic bags, tied them securely, and put the bag in my mom's trash can. I went inside her house to wash my hands and to also bask in the glow of her love knowing that I was for a few minutes her favorite son and the most loved.

"Where did you put it?" she asked in a hushed tone so the kids would not overhear.

"It is in your trash can."

"What? No it can't go there. You have to get rid of it. I don't want the bugs and trash day is next Friday. You have to take it with you."

"Where am I going to take it?"

"I don't know. Just not here."

"Fine. I will take it to the Sunoco Station and throw it in their trash can."

"Yes. That would be better."

"I can't believe I am going to be driving around with a dead rabbit in my car. You know I am going to blog about this right?"

"Yes. That's fine. Just get rid of the rabbit."

Wailing Sirens

One of the local volunteer fire departments held an open house to celebrate Fire Prevention Month. The event included tours of the trucks, the station and the equipment as well as the educational materials and lots of snacks and candy for the kids.

What we learned:
-Max screaming at the top of his lungs, because Wyatt stole his lollipop, is louder than the sirens on the fire trucks.

-I can say "Don't touch that." 37 times in the span of two minutes as the kids were inside the truck. I hope fire department does a check of all switches and valves and buttons before they start up the trucks.

-Teaching a four year old Stop, Drop and Roll is very difficult if they can't get past the fact that they may be on fire. The thought of that was very scary.

-Fire stations DO have bathrooms. Before we left for the event Lauren and I tried to convince Max to go the potty. Max refused. Lauren said something like, "Max you should go now, before you leave, in case they don't have a potty there." Max's response. "Where do the fire fighters go?" Good Point. The first question Max asked the fire fighter. "Where is your potty?"

The kids did enjoy themselves.

Knowing where I stand

Wyatt has some type of ear infection. Trying to put him to bed was a disaster. He only wanted his mother. Lauren eventually brought him into our bed and he settled down and quickly fell asleep snuggled up to her.

In the middle of the night I tried to move him to his bed. At first he seemed happy with having his own space but after a minute or so he started fussing. Since Lauren is sleeping for two, and I was already awake, I figured I would do my best to soothe him. I carried him downstairs, gave him some medicine and tried my best to snuggle with him and rock him to sleep until the meds kicked in.

He was miserable. He tried to cuddle with me as we were laying on the couch but he kept waking up every 15 minutes and he would start to cry. I thought maybe I was crowding Wyatt and so I nudged Luna, the dog, out of the way and I laid on the floor and I reached up to the couch and I rubbed his back and held his hand. He would calm down for a few minutes but then he would start to cry again. This went one between 12:30 and 3 AM. I was at a loss. Bewtween the dog's snoring and Wyatt's sobs I barely got a wink of sleep. I was exhausted and I felt so bad for Wyatt. I just wanted him to feel better and get some rest.

At some point I must have drifted off. I woke up to Wyatt climbing off the couch and trying to nudge me. I thought he was still feeling bad and wanted some comfort. I tried to hug him but he wanted none of it. He was nudging me away from where I was laying. He cleary did not want me to be where I was. I stood up and Wyatt quickly laid down on the floor in my space.

Wyatt then took a deep breath, rolled over, put his arm around the dog and quickly fell asleep for the rest of the night.

Wyatt would rather cuddle with the dog than with me.

Couldn't Shake It Off

Before Lauren's father passed away he was in the hospital for 5 or so days. Lauren went to the hospital every day, sometimes twice a day for hours on end, to visit with her dying father and to support her mom. Every day, as she would leave, Maxfield would ask Lauren where she was going.

"I am going to visit Pop-Pop in the hospital." She would tell him.

Max being the typical three year old would ask "Why?" to everything. We would answer, "Pop Pop is sick and the hospital is where sick people go."

Everyday that Lauren was away Max would ask for his mother and I would explain that Pop Pop was sick and in the hospital.

When Lauren's father passed away we explained to Max that "Pop Pop went to live with God."

Three weeks later, before my father died, he was in the hospital for 5 or so days. Every night that I would leave to go visit him Maxfield would object. "I don't want you to leave."

"I know Max." I would say. "But Pa is real sick and I need to go see him in the hospital."

Everyday I was at the hospital Max would ask Lauren where I was and Lauren would explain "That Pa was in the hospital."

After my father died Max asked a lot of questions. We explained that "Pa went to live with God."
Being a typical three year old he asked "Why?" to everything. We explained that people who get sick and do not get better eventually go to live with God.

That was almost a year ago.

Tonight while Max was playing with some of the neighborhood kids, he fell pretty hard and did a good job of scraping his knee. I told him to "shake it off" as I do every time he gets hurt. The mother of the other kids looked at his wound. Max was being very dramatic about how bad the boo-boo hurt and the mom, playing along with Max's seriousness and being very kind and sweet, asked him if he wanted to go to the hospital.

Max became very quiet and asked me to carry him home. I told him I couldn't because I had Wyatt to manage. He jumped into my arms and started sobbing and begged me to carry him home. I did.

Max cried into my ear, "I don't want to go live with God, Dad. I don't want to go to the hospital and I don't want to live with God.

It broke my heart and I couldn't shake it off.

Seek and Find

Wyatt has a habit of losing his jucie cup. He just leaves it wherever. When he then gets thirsty he asks either Lauren or myself to help him find it. Like all items designed for children, his juice cup is brightly colored plastic and it blends in with everthing else Wyatt owns. So we often play seek and find.

It rained all weekend. We played inside all weekend. We played seek and find all weekend.

In the below photo see if you can find:
1.-Juice cup
2.- Spiderman guy (There may be more that one)
3.-Baby Jaguar
4.-A Little Peoples Sheep.
5.- An Elephant
6.- A soccer ball
7.- A Croc like shoe
8.-My patience
9.-Lauren's Sanity
10.-Wyatt's feet.

Jimmies or Sprinkles

Maxfield and I argued over the jimmies on his oatmeal. You may be asking yourself what are jimmies? And on oatmeal?

A while back, in an effort to get the kids to eat their oatmeal, Lauren started putting various things in the oatmeal. Besides some healthy stuff like ground flax seed she would also put in raisins or bananas or applesauce. One day she decided to top their oatmeal with some rainbow jimmies. She and the kids call them sprinkles. I call them jimmies.

Yesterday I made the kids their breakfast and I topped their oatmeal with rainbow non-pareils. There is a significant difference between the two. Jimmies are long and tubular and non-pareils are just dots. Of course Max noticed the difference.

"Dad, mommy puts sprinkles on the oatmeal."

"That's what I did."

"These are NOT sprinkles. I don't like this kind."

"Maxfield they are the same thing."

"No they are not."

"Yes they are."

"No they are not."

"Yes they are. They are both made of sugar. They are just different shapes."

"They are not the same."

Knowing that I could have a logical conversation with a four year old, I grabbed the container of the jimmies and threw some on top of his oatmeal.

"There." I said. "Is that better?"

His rolled his eyes and placed his spoon next to this bowl clearly as a sign he was not going to eat the oatmeal.

"What?" I asked."That's what you wanted. Now eat the oatmeal."

"But I wanted chocolate sprinkles." Max whined.

"We don't have chocolate, only rainbow sprinkles."

"These are not rainbow sprinkles." Max said as he picked through them.

"Yes they are."

"No they are not." Max said confidently. He picked up a brown colored sprinkle. "This is brown." He then picked up a white sprinkle. "This is white. Here is another brown one. Rainbows do not have the colors brown and white in them. These are not rainbow sprinkles."

A minute ago I questioned his logic, now I had to question mine.

What do you call them? Sprinkles or Jimmies?

Now I Just Need a Trough

I spent the weekend Begatting. When we moved into our house a year ago we had a white birch tree removed form the front yard. The tree was about two feet from our front walkway and was infested with ants. After the stump was ground out we had a rather large bare area directly in front of our house. This empty space begat some shrub removal in the same area.

I think I have dug up and removed about 15 bushes and shrubs from our front yard in the past year. The shrub removal has begat a new garden project.


I used a Mantis rototiller to dig a rather large area for our walk way garden.
Of course the kids helped with sifting the dirt. Notice their brown shirts that help hide the dirt for our many trips to Lowes. The only thing of interest we found sifting was a about a dozen worms and rusty quarter.
The new garden begat a "cosmetic fence" to the front of our house. Lauren took pictures to document the progress. It was right at this point that she said, "Wow. The first two posts went in so easy. That wasn't bad at all.", which then cursed me to have the last post take twice as long to set.
We are half way done our landscaping project and now I feel comfortable that if we have any visitors to our house that ride a horse, they will have a place to tie up reins.

Dorito Diet

"Bill?" Lauren calls out to me from the kitchen while I am sitting at the computer in the other room. "Where did this bag of Doritos come from?"

"I just bought them tonight." I yelled back. "I wanted to try their new flavor combo."

"How are they?" she asks.

"Pretty good."

"I thought you told me last week you were gong to try and lose ten pounds." She says, reminding me of my goal to lose ten pounds.

"I am." I said. "Thats why I only at HALF the bag."

Poop and Boogies Bump

I received an invitation in the mail to go see Brad Meltzer at a book signing in the Philadelphia area(read posts about Brad Here Here and Here). I planned on attending the signing anyway but the fact that I received and invite just meant that they wanted me there. I am sure no one else actually received an invite. Sure it was not addressed specifically to me but they knew who they were sending it to. Right?

I have been to a few book signings but never for Brad Meltzer. The guy is one of my favorite authors and it was a perfect opportunity to meet him and talk to him and you know...stalk him.

I arrived a little early and staked out my seat in the middle of the goup of folding chairs the book store had set up in front of a podium. I did not want to be too close to the front because then I would seem too eager, too dorkish. I did not want to be too far back because I did not want to seem like I was not interested. My seat was perfect.

I met a lovely couple, John and Joanne, who were there to get a book signed for their son Dennis. They were not fans of Brad but were willing to muddle through the event for their son. I chatted with them for a bit before Brad arrived.

Brad spoke for about 30 minutes about his book, his writing, his television projects and comics. He was very funny. Joanne and John seemed like they were entertained. I did not see too many people there taking pictures so I was not sure if I would look like the biggest dork in the world if I started snapping photos. When Brad sat down to sign some books I decided to sneak some pictures in.

That is him there signing away.


The above picture was so I could have a picture of Brad and me together in case they were not going to allow it. I stood in line for about 10 minutes trying to come up with something witty to say but I knew that once I started talking I would sound like Chris Farley interviewing Paul Mc Cartney. Again Iwanted to avoid the whole dorkishiness.

When I got to the table I said hello as Brad asked me if I wanted to have the book personalized.

"I'm Bill, from Poop and Boogies." I said.

Brad jumped up from the table. "I am so glad to meet you." He said. "Thanks so much for coming tonight. Give me a hug."

He hugged me and said. "I really love your blog."

Then we chatted for a few minutes and I do not remember what he said after that,because I could not get past the fact that he told me that he loved my blog.

I aksed him if I could take a stalker picture with him and he said of course. He thanked me for the review and again for attending the signing.

This is how he signed my book.

I was relieved. I was not a dork at all. I did not embarrass myself.

The Book of Lies is now #2 on the New York Times best Seller list. Do you know where it was on the list before my review? It wasn't. I like to think that my review boosted his book to the number 2 position. Poop and Boogies bumped his sales up.

I hung out for a while after and listened to other people talk about his books and I listened to his responses. He was genuinely gracious and appreciative of every person there. He was also very, very funny. I was enjoying listening to him crack jokes. Then, I realized that I was the only one sitting there besides Brad's friends and family. I suddenly felt quite awkward and weird. I was the only person there that was not part of his group. Should I just get up and leave? No, that would be strange, like why was I just hanging out and then get up and bolt out of there? Should I say something else to him? No that would seem waaay too stalker-ish. I was stuck. His friends were kind of giving each other looks, but referring to me, like "yo what's up with this dude?"

I sensed the complete awkwardness of the entire moment. I stood up and shook Brad Meltzer's hand and I left.

All the efforts I took to avoid me being a total dork...gone.

Rule Clarification

Just say you had a rule in your house (relationship) that stated If one person cooks dinner, the other person does the dishes, and that rule works well, but then one day a person cooks such a big meal that it is used for the next nights meal, and even though the other person heated it up shouldn't they be responsible for doing the dishes since the other person cooked dinner originally?

Name Brand

I have posted before that I think that store brand products are just as good as the name brand. There are a few exceptions. Doritos and Oreo Double Stuff are examples of the exceptions.

I have added a new exception to my rule. Lipton Onion Soup mix. I don't use it to make soup. I don't know anyone who uses it to make soup. Most people use it to make dip (or Scoop).

Recently I bought the store brand onion soup mix to make my dip. For some reason the little bits of onion that they use in the store brand do not soften in the sour cream like the Lipton brand. The little tiny crescent shaped pieces of onion stay crunchy.

While I was eating my chips and dip I could not help but feel I was eating a bowl full of sour cream and toenail clippings.

Now can you imagine if I was eating Frito's, which to me always smell like dirty socks, with my dip?

Cemetery

While driving to a party we passed the cemetery where my dad is buried. I mentioned to Lauren that it has been a while since I went to visit his grave.

I went a few times not long after he died. The rectangular plot was still just dirt and pebbles and stark and raw. The grave was fresh, like my sadness, and it reminded me of how I felt because of his passing. But it was still nice to have a place to go and "visit" him. In the spring my brother, the LawnWhisperer, went to cemetery with his rakes and fertilizer and grass seed and even though there is a grounds crew to take care of the plots, he made sure that my dad would have the best looking "lawn" out of everyone there.

I said to Lauren, "I really should go and visit him. It's been a while since I "talked" to him."

Lauren and I discussed the concept of having a place to go to visit our departed loved ones. She told me that I really didn't need to go to the cememtary to talk to him. I could talk anywhere. I agreed with her but I like having a place to go to feel a connection.

Lauren said the she feels more comfortable going to one of her dad's favorite places in order to feel connected. That if she wants to talk to her dad, she could go to the lake where her dad liked to fish. She finds that more comforting. It would be a more happy place. She suggested that maybe I could do that, instead of feeling the need to go to the cemetery.

My dad had many favorite places. I thought about it for a minute and I told Lauren, "I think you are right. I am going to go to Philly Park (horse racing) or maybe the casinos the next time I want to talk to dad."

Visiting dad may become expensive.

Cicada Party

These things are all over our backyard. The only thing we can do is make them part of the fun.

Honey

If you were sent to Sam's Club to pick up 5 lbs of honey, what aisle at Sam's do you think the honey would located?

The aisle marked cereal?

The aisle marked peanut butter and jelly?

The aisle marked spices and sugar?

The aisle marked condiments?

Or the aisle marked tea?


If you were sent to Sam's Club, to get honey, and you were already there for, like forever, and you ask the 90 year old lady wearing a hairnet and plastic gloves, who works at Sam's handing out samples of mint jelly, for assistance in locating the honey and the conversation goes like this:

Me: Excuse me. I am looking for honey.

Her: You are looking for a honey?

Me: No. Just. Honey.

Her: Well if it was A honey. You found one right here.

Do you pretend to flirt with her just so she will direct you to the correct aisle that much quicker?

There is a word for it but I am not sure what it is

Maxfield and I had an argument tonight. He refused to eat his dinner and I refused to give him anything else for the rest of the night. He begged me for milk. He begged me for a snack. I kept telling him his dinner was on the table and that if he was hungry he could eat that.

We argued some more. Bad moods surfaced. Max wanted to watch his show and I wanted to watch the Phillies.

Right before bed time he picked up his toy cell phone and dialed a number.

"Hello is Ethan there?" He asked loud enough for me to hear. "Hi Ethan. This is Maxfield. What are you doing?"

He paused as if he was listening to an answer from his friend Ethan.

"Oh really?" Max said into the phone even louder making sure I hear him. "You are drinking milk and watching T.V. Okay. I was just checking."

Ordinary

I have written here before about my history with comic books and superheroes. Superman is considered to be the first superhero.


In highschool I dressed in Superman shirts.

My brothers, at my wedding, dressed as Superman and superheroes.

Here is a cool video sent to me by my buddy Brad about the house where Superman was created. Save the Superman House.

But what I think is even cooler is this site. Ordinary People Change the World Go and surf that site and be Ordinary.

Today's post brought to you by the letter Z

I received an email a couple of weeks ago informing me that Sesame Street launched a new website.

Sesamestreet.org


The email pointed out all the new features that the site has; Games, Videos, Character Bios (did you know Oscar the grouch is a Gemini?)Etc.


My favorite section is the video archive of all celebrity guests. Seeing a young Billy Joel, before his third chin, or a pre-dead Johnny Cash singing to Oscar is great. And this ONE is for Susie over at What Was I Thinking.

And this ONE is for Lauren at Gigglepotamus. I am just sorry that it does not include the new man her life, Timm Gunn, even though I think he resembles a muppet.

Book of Lies the Review

Oh the pressure.

The last time I had to write something even remotely close to a book review was when I was in 11th grade, in Mrs. Bray's English Class, and I had to do a 500 word essay on Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises. It started something like this: "The Sun Also Rises, a book by Ernest Hemingway, is very,very,very, very, very, interesting. I really, really, really,really, liked his use symbolism."

Brad Meltzer, through his publisher and marketing people, made sure I received an advanced copy of his latest novel The Book of Lies. The book is not out in stores until Spetember 2nd. I received my copy on August 9th. I had visions that if I read the book that weekend and sent in my review that,maybe, on the back cover of the store copy dust jacket it would say something like: William from Poop and Boogies. com says "An action packed thriller. A true page turner." But a couple of things prevented a quick read. One, I am a very slow reader. And two, I just started reading a book about the Battle of Gettysburg which, is no big deal because I often read more that one book at a time. Oh, and three, I also have two kids to raise, a wife to spend time with, work to do, Project Runway to watch and Guilder to Frame for it. I'm swamped.

I also wanted the excitement of getting a preview copy to wear off so I could give it a fair review. It took me a few days to even attempt to start it. Then something else happened. General Longstreet did not agree with General Lee's plan for Pickett's charge. I had to finish those chapters in "The Killer Angels" first.

The premise of The Book of Lies is that the weapon that Cain used to murder Abel is never mentioned in the Bible and is lost to history. In 1932 Jerry Siegel's father is killed, a murder that is never solved, as a result Jerry goes on to create Superman, one of the worlds most recognized icons. What could these two crimes have in common?

I know it sounds a little strange and somewhat nerdy. I finally found some pieces of time to actually read the book. I kept a little notebook on me so I could make some notes for my review. Guess what? I did not write down one note. I was immediatley caught up in pacing of the book. The Book of Lies has short chapters, so from a pratical level, for someone who is busy like me, it is very easy to read on breaks, during lunch, or in between innings of the Phillies' games

The main character is Cal Harper, a former federal agent, who now works for a homeless shelter, patrolling the streets helping the needy. One night he finds his father, who he has not seen in 18 years, one the side of the road with a bullet wound in his side. Cal's father quickly garners Cal's help in the chase for world's first murder weapon. Not strange or nerdy at all. It reads like The DaVinci Code but instead of the Holy Grail, the characters seek Cain's murder weapon. And instead of clues being left in DaVinci's paintings, the characters are seeking leads from the works of another creative genius, Jerry Siegel. The Book of Lies is very good.

There is a reason why Brad Meltzer is one of my favorite authors and with this book he proved it again. Meltzer does not tell the story. He lets his characters tell the story. Cal, and Lloyd and Serena and Ellis tell this story.

Go to Brad's website and read more about The Book of Lies, you can even read the first chapter. Then go and get the book and read it and then comeback and tell me what you thought.

Oh and Brad, if you happen to read this review, leave a comment just so I can prove my friend Nilbo wrong.

The Book of Lies

Last year I wrote about my slight fascination with the New York Times Best selling author Brad Meltzer. If you go back and read that post, in the comments, you will see that Nilbo somewhat mocks me and doubts that I kinda had an email exchange with a best selling author. I emailed Brad and asked him to read the post in the hopes that he would comment on Poop and Boogies just so I could prove to Nilbo I did not make up my story. Brad never posted a comment.

A couple of weeks later my friend Aly, who reads my blog, told me that her husband's sister is married to Brad Meltzer's roomate from college. I was six degrees separated from one of my favorite authors. That was all the incentive I needed to stalk Brad Meltzer. I sent him another email directing him to my original post and explaining that he and I were practically best friends via his college roomate's wife's brother's wife's highschool friend. He never commented but he did reply saying that he read the post. I was grateful for email but it was not enough to prove to Nilbo I was buddies with a 6 time N.Y Times bestseller.

Some time has passed since then. I am not sure of the exact details (I know that I emailed Brad or commented on his blog a few times) but somewhere along the way I was asked by Brad Meltzer to review his latest book "The Book of Lies." That's right, stalking him has its privledges.

This is me in my best stalker look holding the advanced reading copy.
Here is a picture of the advanced reading copy. See the red circle? That says "Advanced reading copy. Not for resale." Look I even zoomed in on the red circle in the picture below.
And yes, I snickered when I zoomed in that it looks like the book is called Bra Melt.

Needless to say I was very excited to have the oppotunity to review his newest book.

Then I got nervous. What would I write about it? I never have done a review before. What does one say? What if I did not like it? What if Nilbo still doesn't believe me that I kinda know Brad Meltzer.

Oh the pressure.

To Be continued.....

Fries

I try to teach my kids the right things. I really do. Sometimes I feel, no matter what I do, that they just don't get it.

Lately Maxfield has been requesting that I put ketchup directly ON his fries. He used to want his ketchup in a nice pile next to his fries so he could dip his fries and get the proper ketchup-to-fry ratio. Just like his father.

The past few weeks he wants me to squeeze the ketchup, all willy nilly like, back and forth, directly on his french fries. Some fries have lots of ketchup and some barely have any. I don't know where he learned this behavior. Not from his mother. She likes the little pile of ketchup next to her fries also. Maybe he is just being defiant.

When you eat french fries with ketchup, do you pour the ketchup NEXT to the fries or directly ON to the fries?

Money Sharing

If a man is married, and let's say he wins some money playing the lottery or something, is he obligated, morally, ethically, legally to share or split the winnings with his wife?

I am sure most of you that read this site just thought to yourself, "Well, hell yeah he should split it." except for a select few who may be thinking the "I broke even." rule could take effect here.

And if you answered the above question with a yes, does the wife have the same obligation to the husband if she won some money at Bunco night?

Scar

I had this "thing" removed from my neck.

It was a cyst but the definition for cyst is: An abnormal membranous sac containing a gaseous, liquid, or semisolid substance. I find that definition pretty gross so I refer to it as a "thing".

The dermatologist did not lance the "thing" she had to cut it out of my neck. This left an inch and half gash across the center of the front of my neck, right in front of my adams apple. She had to give me four stitches to keep the wound closed. She said the scar would "fall nicely into the crease of my neck" and should not be visible. I say it is placed nicely at the bottom of my slowly forming second chin.

I had to keep the sutures for a week. During that time, I attended a wedding and knew that people may ask questions about the small zipper staring at them from my throat. I told Lauren I was going to tell each person that asked a different story about what happened.

This is what Icame up with.

"I was held at knife point during a robbery and this is where the knife was held."
"I was choking and Lauren performed and emergency tracheotomy."
"I was running with scissors."
"When I was a kid, my brother shot me in the neck with a BB gun and I finally had the BB removed."

Lauren came up with "You woke up with a bug bite on your neck and it grew and when the doctor took it out it was filled with spider eggs."

At the wedding I only got to use two of my stories. The stitches were not as visible in the dim lit reception hall as I thought they would be.

I had the stitches removed and now I have a small scar which is more visible than the doctor claimed it would be. I need more stories to tell in the event that some one asks.

I have an inch and half scar across the front of my neck, tell me a good story that I can use in case someone asks.

Somewhere over the...

Telling You Y

Go here and read the quick post.

We were driving home from the ultra-sound and Lauren said, "Maybe I just can't produce a girl. Maybe there is something genetic that prevents me from having a girl."

I chuckled and said, "Or, maybe, there is something genetic in me that I can't produce a girl."

She smiled. Then she said, "Oh I can get around that."

Signs That Someone in my House is Pregnant

--2, 3, 4, times a night someone gets up in the middle of the night to pee.

--The gallon size jar of pickled artichoke hearts in the fridge.

--2, 3, 4, times a day someone says "I need to take a nap".

--I am gaining weight

--The fact that I, the anti-pet person, am now cleaning the cat's litter box. Because there is some rare disease, toxoplasmosis (which I am sure some pregnant woman invented), that can come from cat litter. ( I am sure there is a labratory filled with pregnant women looking for rare diseases associated with doing dishes, vacuuming, laundry and mowing the yard as well.)

--The various number of magazines scattered through the house that are dog-eared to pitcures of "cute" decor for a baby's room.

--The phrase and rule "Don't jump on Mommy" is now strictly enforced with the kids...and it now also applies to me as well.

Wyatt Sings

I have watched this a hundred times and it makes me smile every time.

Robots Vs. Zombies

My friends and I have have debated this topic in the past. It is a conundrum with logical arguments that cannot be answered until after the fact. It is kind of like discussing who should be picked second in a fantasy football draft. There is no real correct answer until after the season is over.

I am taking a break for a few days so in my absence I will Leave you with this question.

In the future, when the world ends in an apocolyptic war, who wins in a fight between zombies and robots?

Discuss amongst yourselves. I look forward to reading everyone's arguments.

Predicting a Headache

You know there is a headache, a backache, a pain in the ass, as well as a ton of aggravation in your future when you turn on the DVR to check that you recorded last night's season premiere of Mad Men and find that some else also recorded an episode of "Bathroom Renovations" from the DIY network.

Archaeology

A small leak in our laundry tub has begat me re-doing the floors in our laundry room and our powder room.

The plumber came out and removed the old tub/sink and I removed the old floor using a hammer and a chisel/scraper thing. I wanted to put the new floor down under the new sink/tub while the basin was gone. I also had to remove the ugly faux tile from the wall.

As with all begats projects, it was not that simple. I must have used 20 tools and 30 curse words for that little space under the sink.

You can see in the second picture here the new floor and new tub.
I then had to tackle the rest of the floor in the room. Lauren, who should have her own home improvement show, told me to use an iron and a wet towel to heat up the tiles. It worked like a charm. It made the whole process so much easier.

I felt like an Archaeologist, discovering layer upon layer of the past. As you can see in the bottom half of the picture (below) the pale octagon patterned tile that is circa 1980s. The orange tile that is underneath it is definitely from the early 1970s or as some scientists call it the Bradybunchzoic period.

And in this last picture (the yellow tile) you can see the original asbestos tiles from when the house was built in the 1960s. If you look closely at the wall you can see the yellow flower wall paper that I have not been able put into a time period but I am sending out for carbon dating.

Guest Post

Today I did a guest post for Nicki over at I, Wright. Go and check it out.

Plagiarism

My next door neighbor is a good a guy. Although we are a generation or two apart, I enjoy his company. We help each other out with various home projects. Like, if I need a precision cut of wood or some advice regarding a specific tool or assistance with an analytical problem I ask him for help. If he needs something heavy carried, he asks me.

One day I was helping him move some equipment to his backyard which he needed to landscape the area around his pool and perfectly cared for garden railway. He explained that he needed to do something or other to the pool because his homeowner insurance required the change.

"So I have to reface this area." He explained.

"Why?" I asked.

"Well the insurance company considers this" he said pointing to the pool and railway, "an attractive nuisance."

Following the comedy trail and the perfect set up I said, "Oh, just like my wife."

He laughed.

A couple of weeks later, Lauren, my neighbor, and I were chatting and he was explaining to Lauren the changes he made. He used the phrase 'attractive nuisance' again. He stopped himself and told Lauren about the joke I made, which I already told her.

He turned to me and said, "I use that joke all the time now with my family or friends."

We laughed.

I was kind of happy that he was using some of my material. But after thinking about it for a bit, I have to wonder if he is telling his family and friends that his wife is an 'attractive nuisance' or is he saying that he thinks Lauren is the 'attractive nuisance'.

New Pet

We haven't named it yet. Any suggestions?

I've been duped

Last week, Lauren asked me to take the Maxfield and Wyatt to either Lowe's or Home Depot for the kids workshops they hold on Saturday mornings.

I arrived at the Lowe's promptly at 10 AM. I checked in with the customer service center and went through the store, to the back, where they hold the kids workshops. There were already a few parents and their children waiting in the back. A gentleman wearing the maroon apron with a Lowe's logo asked me if I was there for the kids workshop.

"Yes." I replied.

"Well, you are at the right spot." He said.

"Good. I am hoping that you can get this one" I said, pointing to Max, "to eat his vegetables and the shorter one is in his terrible twos, so I am hoping you can fix that."

The guy just stared at me. He then pointed to a box filled with small wooden go-cart kits and hammers and safety goggles.

"Ooohhhh." I said. "By kids workshops, you mean that the kids get to build stuff. Here I thought it meant you were going to fix my kids."

Happy Anniversary

Go to my wife's blog, I think I need to blame the aliens (3rd paragraph last sentence).

Lawn Circles

I made the joke with this post about a UFO landing near Lauren. Well, yesterday, I discovered this Lawn Circle in my backyard. I am pretty sure that it was caused by a small scouting ship looking to abduct someone from my house (keeping my fingers crossed they want the cats and the dog and if they take the cats they have to take the litter box as well).



Some people may say that the circle was caused by my lack of experience with my Scotts' broadcast spreader and how much Weed and Feed I used. But seeing that the lawn circle is right next to the path that leads to my back porch I am thinking the UFO landed right there for easy access to back door. Its eerie.

Blogging Milestone

Some time this past week, one of the stat counters I use to track visits to Poop and Boogies registered that this here blog had its 500,000 page view. Since March of 2005 this blog has been viewed half a million times. I know that that number is nothing compared to what other blogs get, but it made me smile to see that number on the site meter.

One of the tracker services I use has a map that shows where certain visits come from. Sometimes I click on the pushpin icons to see "who" is visiting. I am always curious to see where they are from. I get visists from the offices of Dupont, USA Today, The Department of Justice, The State of Texas Attorney's General Office, Nicholas Spark's agent's office (psst, call me) LaSalle University, The US Post Office and various other businesses.

Some of the pushpins I can tell are from other bloggers. I see one from Portsmouth VA I immediatley think it is Bogart. I see a push pin from Denver I think it must be GreebleMonkey. If I see one in DC I think it must be Cat or RudeCactus. The pushpin from Rome has got to be the Pope, because I am sure one day he was doing some ego surfing and was googling his name and what not and he fat fingered the keyboard and accidentally typed "poop" and found my blog and now he is a regular reader.

I have not reached 500 K visits yet (just pageviews) which is my next goal. Hell, I may be reading my stats all wrong but a half million hits by the end of the year would be pretty cool. I know there are people out there that link this site over the past few years and I want to say thank you to them. I really do appreciate it.

I do not do a blogroll but, every now and then, I list some of the blogs I am currently enjoying.
Besides the ones I mentioned above here are some of my current reads.

A Year Here and Year There , Eclectic, Gigglepotamus, Bossy, Klog, Raising the Boys, Rattling the Kettle , Cynical Dad, Creative Type Dad, April, The Donovan Clan, Practically Wisdom, Mindy.


I want to express my sincere gratitude to everyone who stops by here. I am always amazed at how people have found this site. I know it is difficult to remember what brought you here but if you could leave a comment and tell me how you found me, where are you on my pushpin map I would love it.

And again Thank You.

Awkward recipe

Lauren makes an awesome anti-pasta salad. I was sent out to pick up some of the ingredients so she could make it for our 4th of July celebration.

When I got home from the store she pointed out that I picked up the wrong type of the main ingredient.

I went back to the store to return the item. This is the conversation I had with the guy behind the deli counter.

"I need to return this. My wife said I picked up the wrong thing for her recipe."

"Okay. What does your wife need?"

"She needs a harder salami. Apparently the one I got is too soft."

He turned red. So did I.

"What's the difference between a hard salami and soft salami?" I asked.

"Are you setting me up for a joke?"

"No. I looked out here." I said pointing to the prepackaged meats in the aisle."But they are all the same brand."

I then paused and composed myself and accepted what I had to ask. "Do you have hard salami back there?"

He paused and composed himself and then answered. "Yes. How much hard salami does your wife need?"

"I don't know. Can I see it?"

Ring

My mom was and is very proud of her high school. Go Cardinal Dougherty Cardinals. Seriously they are the Cardinal's Cardinals. That is like having General MacArthur High School Generals. Redundant somewhat.

When my mom got married, she gave her class ring to her father. In the 50's this was some type of tradition (as was getting class rings and knowing your high school fight song and pep rallies). She was his odlest child and the first to get married. The idea being that she would replace her class ring with her wedding ring.

I can picture my Pop-Pop asking her, "Barbara, what am I supposed to do with this?"

"You are supposed to wear it dad. It will indicate that your daughter is married."

My grandfather's response was something like, "Barbara, I have ten daughters, if each one gets married I will have to wear ten class rings. I can't do that."

But my grandfather promised to hold onto the ring for my mom. Over the years the ring disappeared. Misplaced and forgotten. But not by my mom. Every now and then she would ask her father if he still had it. He did not know where it was.

Misplaced and forgotten.

My grandfather died 6 years ago. His wife, my Mom-Mom died two years ago. My aunt, who lived with them and cared for them, was responsible for settling their affairs. Slowly but surely she made sure that their final wishes were handled. She took her time removing their belongings, giving some items to charity and also making sure that each of their twelve children received the mementos that they each wanted.

Settling the affairs of two people who lived into their late 70's/early 80's, who had twelve kids and 37 grand children, and 30 plus great grand children, takes some time. The last thing my aunt needed to do was to clean out the basement of all my grandfather's tools. He had quite the collection. My aunt scheduled an "open house" for February 2008 for all of Pop Pop's grandchildren to come and take any tools they wanted.

A bunch of the grandkids and many of my siblings showed up to take various gadgets and tools. My siblings and I were still mourning the passing of my dad and the "open house" provided a good distraction. My grandfather was very organized and had multiple light switches and plates and outlet covers and connecters still in their orginal packages. He had every type of screw, nail, nuts, and bolts in little containers each marked with its contents. There was a ton of stuff.

My brother Jim eyed a clear container that was not makred and that was packed with fabric of some kind. He asked my aunt if he could open it and she said yes. Inside the container were old boy scout and girl scout patches that my aunts and uncles had all received. At the bottom of the container, wrapped in a patch, was my mom's class ring.

My dad, my mom's husband of 44 years, had died a month before. It was a very trying time for my mom. As the wedding vows go "til death do us part" and she was no longer a wife but a widow. She was no longer married. My brother Jim brought the class ring to my mom. She was thrilled. Like the ring's shape, it had come back full circle.

My grandfather, my mom's dad, did not misplace the ring. It was not forgotten. He was waiting for the right time to return the ring to my mom.

His timing was perfect.


My mom's birthday is July 4th. Happy Birthday Mom. I love you.