I went to college to become a teacher. My current pupils and their recent lessons:
*Pearl the dog: no barking at the mailman (she's having a hard time with this one)
*Shiloh: crawl, you can!
*Mike: dirty dishes go into the dishwasher (or, yes, the dog can lick them instead)
*Me: stale popcorn is not for consumption, even if it is free sea salt popcorn
In recent news, our mailbox keeled over and died about 6 weeks ago. Seriously, one day it was, you know, being a mailbox, and the next, it was giving the bushes a high-five. After 6 weeks of looking at it and saying, "We should do something about that" we finally decided to do something about it and called our landlord. He came to the rescue within a few days' time and now! Our mailbox is in a sturdy square of quick-dry cement, and so proud it stands! Our mailman will be tickled that he won't have to reach his entire arm and shoulder into the box just to retrieve our outgoing mail. Speaking of our mailman, last Christmas, he gave us a Snoopy Christmas card. How kind! (I am not jesting here.) Mailmen/women don't have a USPS chief-in-command telling them to give their routes Christmas cards. And our mailman added such a personal touch by thinking of little old us. Hmm. I've never sent out Christmas cards. Well, maybe in high school. But never as the matriarch of my own"family" have I done what some households in America do. I've thought about creating a Christmas website where folks could visit to read up on our antics, but then if somebody stumbled upon it that I didn't know, that would be weird. So, no Christmas website. And no Christmas cards, either.
When my parents-in-law first came into town to spend time with my side of the family for Thanksgiving, they were surprised. Not mildly surprised--an "I need personal space because you're up in my face" type of surprised. Why, you ask? My grandmother chose her fine china and real silver silverware for the day's festive occasion. Lovely creamy linens were on the table. We ate a grandiose meal of roasted turkey, marshmallowy sweet potatoes, crunchy green beans, cornucopia rolls and melted butter, and the like. None of these caused the uproar. It was after the meal that we proceeded to carry on a favorite family tradition...let the picture speak my words...
Yes, friends, that is a spoon. I hope you know that I do all of my own stunts. (That is my mother-in-law in the background laughing.) Back to my story. So, my family all grabs their spoons and *huff*huff* breathes their warm breath onto each of their shiny spoons, and away we go! The entire table is caught up in this tradition...so Nola Mom joins in...then John Dad! What fun! Every formal dinner should end in such a manner.
Shiloh makes me laugh, uproariously, every single day. Without fail. Here are some reasons why:
She is such a gem. I am very, very thankful that I get to stay at home with her.
Guess that's all I've got.