Fiona, with one front tooth:
See? It's loose!
Fiona, with no front teeth:
I think it swallowed.
Fiona, with... hey, wait a minute....
OK, I couldn't resist. (Not that I tried...) These are actually marshmallow bunny teeth that the kids got in an Easter basket.
What's the going rate for the Tooth Fairy these days?
Every night, I tell the kids a story once I've tucked them into bed. The fun part is, I do it the hard way: I take requests.
Requests typically involve things that we've been doing; games we've played, books we've read, floods we've paddled down the street in, cheeses we've bought at the store. To make things more interesting yet, I try to take into account what both kids have asked for.
Last night, we did (1) Everybody in the whole world going to the moon; and (2) pie. (Why, the story just writes itself!)
The story of Pie on the Moon
Once upon a time, maybe a few days ago, Mommy made some pie. [She did, by the way; it was yummy.] This time, though, she experimented with the recipe, and added just a little touch of something special. Little did we know, that that something special made the pie come alive. This pie could walk and talk, and it climbed out of the fridge where it was cooling, and wandered out of the house into the back yard. "Hey, wow, look at all this!" the pie said, "there are trees, and sky, and a wagon, and... IS THAT A SPACESHIP?
Well, it was. It was the very spaceship that Daddy had built out of a dryer, two rakes, and a few parts he borrowed from the old car, and that Fiona and Aiden had flown to the moon so many times. "Cool!" said the pie, "I always wanted to go to the moon!" So, it climbed in, and somehow worked the controls, and it blasted off from the back yard, flying up, up, up, through the blue sky, until the sky turned black and the stars twinkled and shone brightly all around.
On and on the pie traveled, for three whole days. Then, it got to the moon, and gently touched down. It didn't need a spacesuit like the kids did — it was just a pie — so it got out and started walking around, tasting bits of cheese from the various boulders of colby, cheddar, and havarti. "Hey, look, it's an old camera!" said the pie, and switched it on. Moments later, every television on earth showed a picture of a PIE... on the MOON. [The kids were howling with laughter at this point. It's a wonderful sound.] "Hello everyone!" said the pie, "I'm a pie, and I am on the moon!" And everyone on earth looked at each other, and said, "There is a PIE, and it is on the MOON. Let's go see."
So they all got into their rocket ships, and all blasted off to the moon. Three days later, they all landed — all six billion of them! — and started looking for the pie. "Is it an ALIEN in a flying saucer?" some demanded. "Can we EAT it?" others asked. "Can we get its autograph?" asked still more.
But the problem is, six billion people weigh a lot. That made the moon very heavy, and that also made the Earth a lot lighter. And that was very bad, because one started speeding up, and the other started slowing down! All the scientists started running around, yelling and waving their arms! "Oh no!" they cied, "Now, instead of a month, we'll have mon, and instead of a week, we'll have a wee, and instead of a day, we'll have a d! Oh, no!!!
So everyone jumped back in their spaceships, and went back to earth. And the world went back to its normal speed.
Well, everyone went back, that is, except two little kids. They stayed on the moon, and went and found the pie. "Hello," they said, "you look a lot like the pies that Mommy makes. Would you like to come home with us?" The pie said "Sure!" and they all climbed into their little spaceship, and sailed across the starry sky, down into the dark blue of the upper atmosphere, down into the blue of the sky, and down, down down, until they touched down gently into the back yard. They carried the pie inside. "Oh, there's that pie! Where was it? I've been looking all over for it," said Mommy. The kids just giggled to themselves, and then Daddy came, and he picked them up, and tucked them into bed, and told them a story. And then, he gave them a hug and a kiss, and he said, "I love you! Good night! ....the end."
* * *
While I was doing just that, Aiden piped up in the darkness. "What did they do with the pie?"
I paused for a moment. Eat it? No, I can't say that... better go with what the kids know. "I don't know, Aiden, what do you think they did with it?"
"They put it in the fridge." Ah, of course.
"And that's exactly what they did."
Fiona piped up next while I was giving her the requisite hug. "Hey Daddy, tomorrow, tell a story of a HUNDRED pies, and everybody on the planet going to the moon."
"OK, but that — is a different story, for a different day."
Good night!
Part of the joy/trials/tribulations of moving to Spain was having to learn Spanish all over again. I'd spoken it well when I was a kid in Costa Rica, but we left for southern California when I was seven or so, and that was the end of that. (Supposedly, one needs to be exposed to a language up until age ten to remember it.) Now, I still had the canto, the the song, so to speak, of the language, and I remembered some vocabulary, but I knew absolutely nothing of grammar other than what sounded right.
In many respects, this is one of the few times where I honestly say, "Thank God for television." The news, especially. Here were people who were trained to speak clearly using good grammar and pronunciation. Be that as it may, what I understood on TV, and what I understood on the street were two different matters entirely. Andaluz, the... accent? dialect? ...that they speak in Andalucía, where I was, is a lesson in great economy. I can't tell you how many times I've heard kids contract "Mamá" into "¡Maáa!" as they were yelling up to the second floor for someone to let them in. If written Hebrew gets rid of the vowels, spoken Andaluz gets rid of the consonants. I remember, very early on, one of the guys in the church youth group trying to teach me how to speak "Andalu" ("Instead of 'voy a la casa de Paco' say, "vocapáo'") ...I just stared in amazement.
So it was with a great deal of laughter that I watched this video, "Curso Dandalú." Yes, normally you'd say, "Curso de Andaluz," but we're going for authenticity...
Note: The video may not make much sense unless you speak Spanish.
Note: Even if you do, it may not make sense anyway.
This little game has been going around Facebook, and I had enough fun on my turn that I'll post it here, too.
The essence of the game is thus:
Go to Wikipedia. Hit “random”
or click http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first random Wikipedia article you get is the name of your band.Go to Quotations Page and select "random quotations"
or click http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four or five words of the very last quote on the page is the title of your first album.Go to Flickr and click on “explore the last seven days”
or click http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days
Third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.Use Photoshop or similar to put it all together.
(If you spend more than 5 minutes, you're doing it wrong.)
Now, admit it — if you've been in a record store lately, that's par for the course, maybe even a bit better. I'm thinking they probably sound a bit like They Might be Giants or Five Iron Frenzy. I'd buy it for the album artwork, but I probably wouldn't listen to it all that often.
The full quote, by the way, is classic Dan Quayle: "I believe we are on an irreversible trend toward more freedom and democracy — but that could change."
"Hey honey, did you do any laundry? I haven't got a thing to wear."
"Did you check the couch? I folded you a cat."
Q: How many surrealists does it take to change a light bulb?
A: Bathtub full of power tools.
Just thought I'd share. Feel free do discuss my sanity (or lack thereof) in the comments. (Mom's a psychologist, and she maintains I'm sane. She's such a sweetie.)
They race beds in South Whitley. In fact, they're the bed racing capital of the world — you can pick up a green wedge in Trivial Pursuit for knowing that. Rules? Minimal: One bed. One passenger, four runners, no interference. Safety? Sign a waiver — no brakes or steering mechanisms allowed! The atmosphere? Good fun.
We arrived late in the afternoon, and walked over to main street just as the zero-turn mower square dance was finishing up, and staked out a spot in front of the fire station while I went off to get a few photos.
Hey, sweet mama, wanna go... bed racing?
A real racing bed. I think this is one of the ones available to teams who haven't constructed a bed of their own. Apparently steering mechanisms weren't always disallowed — I wonder what prompted that particular rule change?
Teams this year included Manchester United ...Methodist Church, Night of the Living Bed (my favorites), Team Dynamite (I think these were the sixth-graders), Big Blue (the high school track team, if I'm not mistaken), MSC (Manufactured Structures Corporation), and the TK Bed Sled Team, resplendent in Hawaiian shirts and bike shorts.
Night of the Living Bed, with their entry, the new and improved Grateful Bed II.
The TK Bed Sled Team, like most, picked the smallest member as passenger. Only the winning team actually had them lie down in the bed — presumably for better aerodynamics. When was the last time you heard "beds" and "aerodynamics" in the same sentence?
I dig the welded rebar "spiderwebs" on the Grateful Bed II. Night of the Living Bed would go on to win the "best theme" prize.
The heats were short, fast, and furious, and the cheering was genuine. Manchester United, Team Dynamite, and MSC fell in the opening rounds. The remaining three teams battled it out. Night of the Living Bed was dominating until they veered off course and had to stop to avoid a collision. TK Bed Sled Team moved on to the next round, the final showdown against Big Blue.
It was a close race, too close for me to tell from where I was standing. In the end, Big Blue got it, and were declared the 2008 Bed racing Champions.
The victors return. There's something poignant about this photo; I'm not sure I can place my finger on it, though.
For the non-bandwidth-challenged, you can see my videos on YouTube here, here, and here.
And... that's it for this year! Anyone want to put together a team with me for next?
Fiona's Hair Salon is now accepting new customers! Hurry in now, for outrageous, over the top hairstyles that will surely get you featured on a family blog! Join now and get a free haircut!
Three years ago, Marti, the customer service manager at Eisenbrauns, bought five Twinkies that had just reached their expiration date, and set them aside in a desk drawer with notes on each of them as to when they should be opened and tested. Does the urban legend of an indefinite shelf life had any truth to it? You can see the results yourself...
I felt surreal and light-headed for about half an hour afterwards. Then I had an apple, and that made me feel better. Thanks to James for recording and posting the video (his first ever!) I think it came out pretty well, especially since I wasn't working from a script!
It was the weirdest idea for a party I'd ever heard of. Our friends wanted to know why we were doing it. Was it someone's birthday? Some event? Why gingerbread houses in June? We did it... just for the fun of it.
And fun it was, although there was a lot of work too. Case in point: If we invite 20 families, and 16 accept, we need materials for 16 gingerbread houses. There are 6 pieces per house, for a total of 96 pieces. That's a lot of gingerbread, folks. I went out and got larger bowls so we could make them three batches at a time, rather than one.
We cleared off the counters completely and set up five stations: two places to roll and cut dough; one to bake, one to cool, and one to store the finished pieces.
Now, the original plan was a cheery summer afternoon in the back yard, with drinks and tiki torches, and kids running around in the grass whenever they got a little too hyper on candy.
Hah.
That plan was scuttled by a thunderstorm the size of Iowa. Then, our supplier of large folding tables called to say he didn't think it was a good idea to bring them over in the rain, as he'd have to put them on an open trailer. Oh. Now what? So... we improvised. A few phone calls netted us promises of four card tables, and we'd just do it all inside. No problem! The slightly worrisome part there is that we'd invited upwards of 40 people. I'm sure I've mentioned it before, but... our house isn't all that big. But we're all friends, right? It'll be cozy!
The adults were having a good time...
Fiona was helping Grandma Kerr...
...but the other kids didn't seem to be having as good a time as I thought they would.
I thought the kids would be all over the candy and the houses, but they were mostly milling about aimlessly, unsure of what they could do.
It was a time for drastic action.
It was time to break out THE KID ENTERTAINER OF DOOM!!!! BWA HAHAHHAHA...
No, wait, that's not right. I meant, the Cart, a.k.a. "Santa's Summer Sleigh."
Man, this thing is great for picking up girls! I had one under each arm for what seemed like an hour or two, just cruising around the island. They were laughing and screaming whenever I rolled up to the door and having a great time.
Eventually, though, my posterior, and the batteries that sit underneath said posterior, were reaching their limit. (I've discovered that you can tell how the battery is doing by checking to see if you can accelerate and use the turn signal at the same time. If you can't blink, you're low.) My passengers weren't too concerned about such things. We had "one last ride" several times, and then "OK, these will have to be short," and then, "really, last time." None of us cared — we were all having fun — but electricity really was in short supply.
"Can we have ONE MORE ride?"
"Well, I don't know. The invisible reindeer are getting pretty tired."
They just looked at me.
"It's almost out of juice."
They wanted to know what kind of juice it needed.
I tried again. "The batteries are low and it needs to recharge."
"So where's the charger? Can we have one more ride?"
"Will you help push when it stops moving?"
That, they understood.
They still excitedly clambered in for the slow, hundred-foot crawl back to the carport to plug in, though.
With the cart exhausted, they set out to answer another question I hadn't thought to ask: How many kids can you fit on a porch swing?
Start with, oh, five or so.
(Every now and then, you snap a photo, and look at it later, and you somehow realize, "This is going to be important later..." — perhaps as a sign of things to come, perhaps important for some other reason. This is one of those photos. It gives me hope and joy about the years ahead.)
He's not heavy, he's my brother... well, yeah, actually, he's heavy. Oof, get off!
Can you spot all eight kids?
Meanwhile, back inside, marvelous creations were taking shape:
Lots of creativity going on.
Maybe once the party is over, Deborah and I can make one, too!
Wash my bike? Pshaw. I have a team of cute girls in pink swimsuits to do that for me!
The average age of these hotties is 18.
There's a saying among motorcyclists: "If she washes your bike, marry her." Deborah trains Fiona in the proper technique...
Fiona has taken to beautifying the world around her. This includes things that I might not have otherwise considered candidates for beautification, like work boots.
Perhaps when she gets older, I'll find she's knitted me a nice motorcycle cozy. That would be nice.
Dinosaurs get cold, too. So they need a scarf.
Somehow, I think if one has that much neck, you need a more substantial scarf — think Doctor Who — but I can't deny this dinosaur looks dashing and dapper.
Aiden, on the other hand, knows what dinosaurs are good for.
Seriously, Aiden has never seen a B-movie creature feature in his entire life, and he knew exactly what to do with a dinosaur and a car. No one taught him that.
Isn't it weird how we're wired?
Much is being made about Domino's new Pizza Tracking feature, and now there's news that a group of Papa John's stores in Alabama now uses GPS to let you track your pizza delivery driver in real-time.
This is all well and good (and a little silly) but as a former pizza delivery guy, I can see a few pitfalls.
For one thing, are they giving the poor drivers the advantage of the GPS system, as well? It's great to see your pies streaking towards their goal, but watching your pizzas circle the block for the fifth time, looking for your address... that can't be good for business. This is compounded by the fact that a lot of the databases we base our mapping on are terribly innacurate. All the major mapping systems put my boss's house on the wrong side of the lake, for example.
So, perhaps, we need to ditch the navigation systems, and just go with raw GPS data, a la geocaching. Please deliver my pizzas to 41°13'36.62" North, 85°49'28.04" West.
Payment and tip are at 41°13'36.74" North, 85°49'36.11" West...
Always tip the delivery guy, by the way. Especially if you make him swim for it.
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Tomatoes have long, pointy noses, not flat rounded ones. Come on, people, get it right. Get with the program!
I suppose there's a possibility that we found Bob's brother in the garden last night. With that nose, I'd say his name was... Bill. ;-) It's all moot at this point, though, 'cause Bill's salsa now. Really, really good salsa.
Fiona keeps telling us she wants to go climb a tree. The odd thing is, we can't find any good climbing trees around here. Apple trees would be perfect. Most citrus trees are great ('cept for the thorns) but just about all we have around here are maples. The mulberry tree in the front yard might be good, but the lowest branch is six feet off the ground. Not so good for someone in the three-foot-something range.
Fortunately, that's what uncles are for. (Daddies aren't off the hook, not by a long shot. But when having your head sat on is a daily phenomenon, you sometimes forget to inject some creativity into the situation.) So the impression has stuck: Uncle = Jungle Gym.
Personally, I think Paul brings that on himself...
Just so you know, you can do shading on a Magnadoodle. You just have to hold the magnetic stylus at a very low angle.
And now, on to my third impossible thing before breakfast...
