Sep 30, 2008

Come meet the neighbors . . .

This is our neighbor, Mr. Fancypants. People think he's a stuffed shirt because he never waves hello to anyone. I'm sure he would if he had hands.
This is Mrs. Fancypants and their two kids. The Mrs. was born with one human lady leg. People come from miles around to see her. Behind her is one of the curious onlookers lurking in the background.
The Fancypants family caused quite a stir when they moved across the street from us. The homeowners association had to hire a team of Ghostbusters to keep the riffraff out.

It looks like people are just dying to get into our neighborhood.

Sep 25, 2008

Foto Friday Fiesta . . .

Come take a walk with me down memory lane. I found these pictures in my house photo's collection.That was my bathroom when I was a kid. My parents had this mural painted above the loo. There are many "why's" I had every time I entered this room as an impressionable child.

Like. Why the rabbit? Why was the light switch so high? And more importantly . . . Why?

Why not join in the fun at Candid Carrie's!

Sep 23, 2008

Charmed, I'm Sure . . .

This is the house from the television show, "Charmed".
This is the house to the left of the Charmed house. The roof needs a little face lift. It's like the ugly step-sister from Cinderella.
This is the house to the right of the Charmed house. It's the other ugly step-sister. It's only a partial fixer upper. The top right quarter of the house is finished. It's been for sale for a while. I bet I know why it hasn't sold.
This is the reason why. This house is directly across the street from the Charmed house. This is where the devil lived. For at least one episode on the show. My husband dared me to play ding-dong-ditch at this house. I pretended like I didn't remember how to play the game and asked him to show me. He didn't fall for it. We played rock-paper-scissors to see which one of us would ring the bell and it was a draw. I love that game. Then we flipped a coin. Then we both yelled, "Not it!" at the same time. While I was trying to think of another childhood game my husband came to his senses and said something I can't repeat here and drove off down the street and jumped on the freeway towards home. He said he didn't know what came over him, and why he was sitting in front of the Charmed house playing games when he could be in his own house doing a whole lot of nothing. I told him that maybe the devil made him do it.

the end. . .

Sep 20, 2008

Sunset Strip . . .

The hubby and I took an afternoon drive today in his car.

We left my car parked on the street for everyone to envy.

We stopped and bought this dress for my Fairy Godmother. I'm pretty sure she'll show up any day now.

We went house hunting.

This one comes with a Ferrari in every color.

We stopped to look at the view.

Then we followed this car into their driveway. We couldn't see their house from the street and didn't think they would mind. We got through just in time. The gates almost closed on us. Security helped us find our way back to the street.
We waved goodbye to the city and the naked, fig leaf wearing, one armed guy balancing on a railroad track. I can do that too. I just don't feel like it today.

Then we came home and I made the husband get to work on building a house bigger than any of the houses we saw today. That's him running away. I better go catch him. Tomorrow is our son's birthday and he needs to finish before the guests arrive.

Sep 18, 2008

Foto Friday Fiesta . . .

Like father, like son.

I know, I know. . . this is so wrong. The little goonie on the right did not drink that beer. I think the dog did. Not really. In fact I don't even know those two. I found this picture. Really. In my photo album -under - favorites. I have no idea how it got there.

Go see some other favorite foto's at Candid Carrie's !

Sep 16, 2008

Things that make you go huh? . . .

I drive by a church once a week that has a street pulpit (church sign) out front.

This week the sign says: We don't believe in the same God you don't believe in.


Sep 15, 2008

Charlie the Wonder Dog . . .

Meet Charlie.
He lives next door.
He hung out with us yesterday and today.
His parents had things to do.
It's been a long time since I took care of a puppy.

We compared pedicures.
Charlie won.

We had a staring contest.
Charlie won.

We played "Fear Factor".
Charlie won.

No animals were harmed in the making of this post. The rat liked it and begged for more.

Sep 11, 2008

Foto Friday Fiesta . . .

That's not me.
Really, it isn't.
It is a favorite foto.
This picture was taken for career day at school.
Can you guess her occupation?
If you guessed fitness instructor you would be wrong.

She produces brussels sprouts.

Come play along at Candid Carrie's Foto Friday Fiesta!

Sep 9, 2008

Bible Camp, The Final Chapter. . .

The mess hall was crowded and very loud, full of boys and girls of all ages. We made our way to an empty table keeping our heads down for fear of being recognized as interlopers. I slid into place next to one of the boys.

A whistle blew and the room grew silent. An imposing man who strongly resembled Grizzly Adams, without the bear, stepped up on a chair towards the front of the room and held his hands in the air. The camp followers raised their hands. I wasn't sure what to do. I decided that I would hold my hands in a half raised position thus not fully supporting the religion that I didn't belong to and not fully denying my own. I looked like I was being held at gunpoint in a bad western. It was better than nothing and I wanted breakfast before I was discovered and thrown out. He led the group in prayer. A long prayer. I thought he was going to thank the Lord for each and every person in the room when the cook stepped out of the kitchen and imitated a slicing motion with a wooden spoon across his throat. It ended abruptly. I clapped. The lone clapper in the camp. I pretended that I was doing a cheer to save myself from embarrassment. "Jesus, Jesus, he's our man . . . if he can't do it no one can!"

Another toot of the loud whistle thankfully silenced me and the food was brought out on carts by a battalion of efficient kitchen help. They looked like they were pushing dim sum carts at a Chinese restaurant. It was then that I noticed a handwritten menu board placed on either end of each table. Not only were pancakes on the menu but there was also bacon, and eggs and juice. I was in heaven and couldn't wait to chow down. Our cart arrived, bringing with it the aromatic smell of breakfast. The server asked us what we wanted as he lifted the domes off the plates. The boy next to me ordered for all of us. "We'll have some Penance Pancakes, some Bible Bacon, a few Sacrificial Sausages, a pitcher of Old Testament O.J., and you can leave the Coffee Chalice here on the table." The girls and I stared at our plates. I wasn't so sure I wanted to eat Sacrificial Sausages, or anything that started with the word "Old" but beggars can't be choosers so I decided to go with it. It didn't take much to convince me of anything in those days.

The food didn't look any different to me than normal stuff so I figured the names were probably part of a Bible vocabulary lesson at the camp. I asked the boy across from me to pass the Second Coming Syrup and Bible Butter which were already on the table. I heard somewhere that Sacrificial Sausages tasted better that way or so I said at the table to make some conversation. The boys ignored me, eating as if this was their last meal. I guess reading the Bible worked up an appetite. I dug into my plate and ate the delicious pancakes, all the while asking God for forgiveness for being such a traitor. Our church pancake breakfasts were nothing like this one. Our food was named after famous people; Aunt Jemima pancakes and Jimmy Dean sausages. Various thoughts swirled around in my head. Maybe they were saints or martyrs or something. We hadn't studied that yet in school. I ate and drank until I was in a semi-comatose state.

That shrill whistle blew again and Grizzly Adams stood on the chair. He asked for the Prayer Warriors to join him. A war cry erupted from the crowd as they pounded on the tables with their fists and stomped their feet. That woke me up in a hurry. My spidy sense was in full alert. Two of the boys from our table got up and made their way to the front of the hall. If they started speaking in tongues, I was out of there. If snakes came out of a basket, I was out of there. If the image of Jesus appeared behind them, I was out of there. Nothing like that happened. The Prayer Warriors put on a skit about Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden. The closest thing to a snake was a neck tie borrowed from the Preacher to act in its place.

Our time at Bible Camp soon came to an end. The nuns and teacher had sent out a search and rescue team when we didn't come back from our walk and they stormed the hall looking for us. Grizzly Adams thanked us for joining them. The Bible Boys thanked us and all in all it was an enlightening experience. They weren't so different after all.

When we sat down at the table for dinner that night back at our cabin I thought about the different names that the Bible Camp used for their food. I looked at our food and decided to bring a little of what I learned at the Bible Camp to our table. I looked at Sr. Gertrude and asked her to please pass the Messiah Meatballs. Sr. G. looked at me and said, " They were all out of those at the local store, so I bought Mama Gina's instead." And I said, "Well then, pass those and some of that Sainted Spaghetti!"

the end . . .

Sep 7, 2008

Bible Camp, Part Deux. . .

With 852 hours to go and two nuns and a teacher in our presence we decided that the typical games one might play like, Truth or Dare, Twister and Strip Poker, would not be half as fun with the present company.

Instead we sat around complaining of boredom until the nuns suggested that we all gather round and pray the rosary for the all of the poor pagan babies living in pagan baby land. That idea would certainly fill up all the hours left in our trip but that wasn't what we had planned. Our plans were to have fun, not spend the entire weekend feeling the Catholic guilt that permeated our lives.

I suggested we take a walk and maybe get lost and then get found by a cabin full of fun people who had never heard of pagan babies or guilt. Everyone ran for the door at once yelling, "Last one out has to buy the next pagan baby and insist on naming it after them." We pushed and shoved and shrieked and made it outside in one piece. Pagan babies were expensive and everyone knew that you never named them after yourself. You named them names like, Peg N. Bebe and hoped the nuns didn't catch on.

It was snowing and cold outside. We immediately made a snowman, shoveled the driveway in case we wanted to go out later and had another snowball fight. Someone looked at their watch. Only 851 and 3/4 hours left.

We set off on our walk. We ate the snow that didn't have a speck of yellow on it. We picked up errant pine cones and threw them. We ambled along at a leisurely pace and didn't pay any attention to where we were going and ended up getting lost. We did not find a cabin full of fun people. We found a Bible Camp instead. A Bible Camp with boys! We had landed in heaven. We quickly made a pact with each other not to mention that as Catholics we knew nothing about the bible. We were smart. We could fake it. After all, we were already way ahead of ourselves in the fact that each of us had actually seen a bible once or twice in a hotel room drawer. Someone whispered loudly, "Just remember that the bible has something to do with Gideon somebody or other." We all shook our heads in agreement. The boys approached carrying their black Bibles under their arms. We shivered a little with anticipation but mostly from the freezing temperatures. One of the girls asked, " Are we supposed to make the sign of the cross or genuflect when they get closer?" Another girl smacked her. The boys were upon us. In front of us. Flesh and blood. Alive. Real.

We were beside ourselves. They spoke first. "God bless you." A couple of the girls answered in unison, "and also with you" like we were in church. They looked at us oddly. We stood wide-eyed and anxious hoping we had not just blown our cover. I don't think they cared. They probably saw an opportunity to save us now that I think back on it. They invited us to join them for breakfast in the bible hall. A couple of the girls hesitated. "Is this a sin?" one of them nervously asked. "Only if the food is bad," another one answered. "Will there be silver dollar pancakes?" the girl next to me asked. One of the boys said, "There won't be anything if we don't hurry." We fell into step behind them as they marched to a large building in the middle of a clearing with pine trees surrounding it.

I wasn't so sure this was the best idea. We had just escaped the nuns back at our cabin and now we were headed into the unknown with 3 boys and some bibles. This was not my idea of fun but we had a few hundred hours to spare so I went along. The pancakes were calling my name.

to be continued . . .

Sep 4, 2008

Foto Fiesta Friday . . .

I had a Tupperware Party.
This was my Tupperware Consultant.
Named : Dixie Longate.
It was not your Mama's Tupperware Party! It was a few years ago and everyone still talks about it to this day. Dixie's a dude. At the time he was the top selling Tupperware Consultant in the United States. I thought I'd share a few of my favorite photo's from that night.

Join in the fun at Candid Carrie's Foto Friday Fiesta!

"One time at Bible Camp" Part II will post this weekend.

Sep 3, 2008

The time I ended up at Bible Camp . . .

When I was in high school I belonged to the drama club - a club that lived up to it's named. One of the girl's in the drama club had a family cabin in the mountains. To unify the group we all took a trip up to this mountain retreat for a weekend of frolicking fun. Our chaperone's were two nuns and a male teacher who was the director of the drama club. The cast of characters included students from all grade levels and assorted levels of maturity.

I drove up to the mountains in a cool little maroon Corvair with a couple of the seniors. They had no idea I was there or they would have kicked me out. I hid in the back seat on the floor until we were well on our way and it was too late to get rid of me. The look on the driver's face when I popped up in her rear view mirror was priceless. She almost drove right off the side of a cliff. They spent the rest of the ride asking me what I had heard them talking about and made me pinkie swear not to tell any of their secrets. I didn't feel like walking 90 miles in the snow so I told them their secrets were safe with me.

We got to the cabin. Jumped out of our cars screaming with excitement. Had a snowball fight. Toasted marshmallows over the open flame on the kitchen stove with rusted wire coat hangers snatched from the musty hall closet. Burned 3 Jiffy Pop pans in the fireplace, told a couple ghost stories and then looked at the clock. Ten minutes had passed. We still had 935 hours to go.

The nuns turned in for the night. The poor male teacher pitched a tent in the cabin garage with a hibachi stove for his sole heating source and turned in for the night. The nuns would not allow a man to sleep in the house with all the girls. They had to protect our virtue. In a protective frenzy they locked him out and hid the key until morning when we all begged to see whether he had frozen solid in the night or survived. The odds of finding him frozen were 10 to 1. He was kind of a pansy. The nuns said a quick prayer as we unlocked the door.

He had survived the night wearing all of his clothes and burning a set of oars and some old wooden fishing poles. I collected a hundred dollars from all the naysayers who bet against him and slapped him some skin. It cracked the ice surrounding him. He thanked me and then asked if he could borrow some of the money to go into town and get a room at the local Inn. I told him we could double down if he could hang in there for one more night. He moaned and staggered to the fireplace to warm his frostbitten fingers dripping a trail of melting ice as he walked. His teeth chattered so loud we thought someone was knocking on the door. We quickly lost interest after we realized he was not such a pansy after all and looked at the clock. Only 852 hours to go.

to be continued . . .