Wordless Wednesday

Twinkle Toes...

You all remember that my hip has been acting up if I Jazzercise or jump or stand still for too long or perch on the edge of a stool for too long, or basically do anything for too long... The neurologist says that it's not neurological. Of course it isn't. The orthopaedist says that there is no reason for my pain, but I should try yoga or some excercise that doesn't involve jumping or pounding on cement or pavement. Ummm... great... My options are - how can I say this nicely - limited.

I could swim, but I don't have a pool and it's too far to the nearest "local" swimming pool.
I tried yoga - I couldn't move for days after. So, that's out.
I started walking 2 miles with the dog. That's okay. No pain. I even run a little bit up the driveway to tire the dog out. Basically I run 3 steps, he runs in circles and then comes back. We do this about 5 or 6 times on our way up the driveway. You all remember that my driveway is almost 1/4 mile long, right? It's also straight up...

Well, my friends, tomorrow I start a new athletic endeavor... I am taking an adult ballet class with three of my friends.
Don't you all pass out at once now...
Yes, I said ballet.
I know... You are all sitting there with your mouths agape simply staring at your screens.
Those of you who know me well, know that I'm the most ungraceful, unathletic klutz on the planet. I almost flunked P.E. - and not because I didn't change into my gym uniform!!
This ballet thing is frightening you, isn't it? Just know that the ballet lady tells me that all will be right with the world and that she's sure that she can handle my inabilities.
We'll see, won't we?

Monday Memories

Monday Memories: Did I ever tell you About Sunday Dinner at Gram and Grandpa's House? I come from an Italian family. I know - I don't look it. I have pasty white skin and blue eyes - just like my Italian grandpa. Every Sunday we went to my Gram's house for dinner - or as we New Englanders say - dinnah. My Grandpa liked to eat - a lot. He liked his family at the table. So, we would sit at the table. It was piled high with different kinds of meat - beef, pork, lamb, and sausages. The gravy (spaghetti sauce) was in a bowl. The Sunbeam bread was piled high on a plate and the butter was the perfect temperature to spread... I'm sure there were vegetables, but I've blocked those from my memory. Gram would dish the pasta out onto plates. Grandpa would tell her to put more on mine - it seems I was too thin and needed fattening up... The dishes were passed, the meat and gravy distributed. My pasta remained white. I put the butter and then the grated cheese. I waited. I knew it was coming. "White spaghetti!", my grandpa would yell from the other end of the table. "Yes." I was quiet - very unlike my cousins. "You need gravy! White spaghetti is no good! Have some gravy!", he'd say. "No thankyou." And then, my Gram or my mom would say something to him to distract him. I would eat my pasta. My only saving grace was that I could eat 3 plates full. He liked that. He did not, however, like it when I lined my peas up under the edge of my plate in a perfect circle that one time. Gram made me eat them cold. They were gross. On the days when we had steak on the grill, we would use the bread and butter to sop up the juice from the serving platter. Grandpa and I would race through our dinner so that we could get to the juice first. (For some weird reason, your plate had to be empty before you could sop up the juice.) There was laughter and loud conversation at that table. I remember the wonderful aroma of Grams' kitchen and her running around shifting dishes in the oven and on the stove in her apron. I remember Grandpa's wild ideas about how things should be done. (Mom and Gram let him talk and then did what they wanted!) I remember the day that my Grandpa tapped his finger on the edge of his empty wine glass. My sister - far more brazen than I - asked him what he wanted. He told her he wanted more wine. She told him it was right behind him on the counter and to get it himself. I stared wide eyed at her with my mouth agape. This was not the man to challenge! Everyone's forks stopped moving. There was an eerie silence. My Gram tried desperately not to laugh as she studied her plate. Fortunately, Grandpa liked Auntie Bug best. He laughed. (She always gave him a run for his money!!) Soon, my children will have their grandparents here to share similar times -- Although, I don't think I've seen my mother wear an apron or ever heard my dad tell my mom how to run her kitchen... They will laugh, tell stories, and be together. That's what family should be all about. LadyBug Click here for the Monday Memories Code, Blogroll, Graphics, & Other Information View More Monday Memories Participants Trackbacks, pings, and comment links are accepted and encouraged!

Turf Wars

Hey, Mom... She's up there on Pumpernicke's crate!


Zebbie: Come on down. Please. Let's be friends...
Angel: No thanks. I'd rather torture you from up here.


Can't catch me up here.... Can you, Shorty?


Pumpernickel is in the pink igloo.
Her thoughts: Get off my crate, you foolish cat!

Saturday Summary

Ernesto came to visit. He dumped a bunch of rain out here.
We had a tree come down across the street and it took out our power for a while. We had finished dinner and were getting ready to hunker down and finish that 1000 piece puzzle when, POOF. We were in the dark.

We ran around and got candles, flashlights, Uno cards and a deck of regular cards. We played a few rounds of Uno. #1 Son kept winning, so we moved on to Balderdash - also known in some families as "Bull Sh*t". (We have been known to call it "Baldershnookie"). After a few rounds of #1 Son creaming us at that, too, and we decided to try poker. We needed something to bet with, so I hauled out my coinage from the laundry room. (I make a good living from what tidbits my family leaves in their pockets.) The last hand - all coins were tossed into the middle of the table. I mentioned that all those coins were to be returned to my laundry room container at the end of the game. This was not for keeps. They all balked. Hah! Guess who won the hand?? Yup - I did!
That will teach them!!

We finished the puzzle this morning.
It was HARD! I mean really really hard...

Who wants it next? I'll mail it to you...

Football Wrap-up

Yesterday was #1 Son's first ever football game. It was a scrimmage.
#1 Son was in the first string. He was absolutely thrilled!
BTW: He looked very good in his uniform - #32. (Hey, I'm allowed. I'm the Mom!!)

The first play...
#1 Son is ready. The ball is snapped. #1 Son blocks the guys. Our team scores!! Yippee!!
Well. That about sums up the game.
The other team couldn't score. Our guys were too good. We marched them up and down the field. It was pretty good!

#1 Son: "Hey, Mom! Did you see me?"
LB: "Yup, I did! You did great! You looked really good out there!"
#1 Son: "Did you see me stop that guy?"
LB: "I saw it all, Dear."
#1 Son: "Good. Just checkin'"

Yes, I was there. Yes, I watched. Yes, I talked to the other parents. When #1 Son was standing on the sidelines, I was yacking it up big time. He was on the sidelines for most of the game. I guess that's what happens when your first play is so effective. That's the kind of football I can deal with - one play early in the game. He gets to play and I get to see him safe on the sidelines. :-)

Oh - did you know that football players are stinky? Now you do. The team had this... umm.... aura... about them yesterday - kinda like Pigpen used to have. Every mother was gagging - almost hurling... Every father was basking in the um... putridity... um, I mean scent... I think the stench brought back memories of their own glory days. Every member of the team took his uniform home to be washed... I bet every uniform is soaking in a washing machine right now.

We brought Zebbie to the game. LLB and her friends ran him around for the duration of the game. He sat on my lap for about 15 minutes while LLB took a break. The rest of the time he was running. He spent the evening passed out on his back - toes up - on the couch. He was one tired dog...

So - No injuries
1 disgustingly stinky uniform soaking in the washer
1 very happy boy
1 exhausted dog

Life is good...

Perfect Post

I have awarded another Perfect Post Award this month.
D from Straddling the Line writes so beautifully. Click the link and you'll go right to my favorite post of hers this month. Check her out and leave her some comment love. Teller LBC sent you, k?