The Indigo

So a few years ago...ok I'll be honest, it was 26 years ago...I visited Charleston, SC with my parents.

And there were two things which stood out in my mind, lo these many years, regarding the trip: that many of the historic homes had earthquake bolts which basically screwed damaged houses back together following the earthquake of 1886, and to be perfectly honest in my mind they were due to the civil war, not the earthquake (bc I did not recall that they were called earthquake bolts...I only remembered what they did, not why they did it. Basically I knew enough to be dangerous. Give me a break...it was 26 years ago!). 

But the other thing I remembered was staying at The Indigo Inn.

And most specifically: the concierge at the time named Larry. 

Now before I continue, I have a confession which will not be news to most, if not all, of you lovely people: I live under a rock. 

And have lived under said rock my entire life. 

Which is why my encounter with Larry 26 years ago was memorable; he was the first person I'd truly experienced who was "into fashion".

Do we all understand what that means? Lest you be confused, I mean he was (and most likely still is) gay. 

Now...because I live under a rock, my experience up to that point with people who were "into fashion" was limited. At least as far as I knew...if you were gay in Greenwood, Indiana in the 1970's and 80's, you were probably not overly flamboyant about it. 

Or if you were, you weren't in my social circle. 

Not because I didn't want you there...I don't know the reason exactly. But you just were not. I'm terribly sorry if that offends you.

So when I happenstanced (not really the right word, but it's fun to say so I included it there) upon Larry, it was an impressionable moment. 

And frankly my moment with Larry was brief. I shall set the scene for you: we were in the hotel lobby. My dad had asked the concierge (whose name I did not yet know) about a specific place we were interested in checking out for dinner.  

So the concierge, in what is typical concierge fashion (pardon the pun...I assure you that it was completely unintended) he called the restaurant. 

When the party on the other end of the line answered, our concierge said, "Hi, this is Larry at The Indigo..." 

And I don't have any idea what he said after that but those seven words and the pitch of his voice are etched into my mind and I can recall it as if it just happened yesterday.

Maybe that makes me a horrible person...I hope not. I'm just relaying an experience I had as a teenager.

So...while that might or might not be funny to you, I am not finished with this little ditty. 

Fast forward to this vacation in which we returned not just to Charleston but also to The Indigo Inn. Mostly because my parents had heard this story about Larry and I had shared it with my children, and as an aside, my children also live under a rock but theirs is not nearly as large as the one under which I grew up. 

While we were at The Indigo Inn this time, my parents had trouble with the AC in their room. 

If you've ever been to Charleston, even in October, you know an AC on the fritz is not acceptable. 

So the custodian was checking it over. And my dad was chit-chatting with him. And somehow (don't ask me how...I was not privy to this conversation), it came up that the custodian had been there for 30 years. 

Now...here was an obvious opening. Obvious to some, anyway. 

I probably would have kept my mouth shut (ok, I probably would not have...that's kind of a lie; in many ways I am my father's daughter) my dad barreled right through. He asked if the guy remembered a concierge from 26 years ago named Larry.

The guy did, and even said he'd come back recently for a visit...blah blah blah, those details aren't important.

The best part is that my dad never explained WHY he was asking; I cannot even imagine what the custodian was thinking...

The courtyard where we ate breakfast and had afternoon cocktails...very hoity-toity, right?

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Wordless Wednesday: Reunion of Sorts

Tomorrow is the day! I get to spend the week-end with these two ladies (I'm assuming you can tell which one is me...and if not, just know that one of them is and the other two are not).

They are part of my Chi Xi Delta Fake Sorority (You may or may not recall reading about it...you can go here for a first-time read or a jogging of your memory). Because I know you want to know: unfortunately, this summer didn't work out for most of the girls (yes, I still refer to us as "girls" because in my mind we are...don't judge), but the three of us were able to get together. We know the rest are with us in spirit, but we will miss them!

We are looking at her turtle Emerson...she still has Emerson, but needless to say he's MUCH larger than he was here.

Please don't judge me for the fact that I was wearing a t-shirt that said "Strawberry" and also had a large picture of a strawberry on it. It was the early 90's...it's best not to ask.

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Foodie Friday: I Feel Like a Big Mouse

I like cheese. 

“I’ve been eating a lot of cheese lately…you think that’s an allergy or something? …I feel like a big mouse.” (I totally stole that from “Uncle Buck.” What’s that you say? You aren’t familiar with that movie? Well, it is one of my all-time favorites. Love me some John Candy. If you have never seen it, or if it has been a year or longer since your last viewing, you should prioritize a movie night. But to tide you over, here’s the scene with the line about cheese…we quote it often in our house. You are welcome.)

Anyway…I have been eating a lot of cheese lately. My parents took a little trip up to Wisconsin, and in case you were unaware, they are famous for their cheese. (The people of Wisconsin, that is...not my parents. That was a misplaced modifier. I apologize.)

And the Packers. Wisconsin is also famous for the Pack (that's what you can call the Packers if you are as familiar with them as someone in this household is...) The 11yo wanted me to make sure that you knew about that.

As an aside (because I know you ADORE my asides…they are what make me, me) my parents went to Lambeau Field on this visit…mostly just to go to the gift shop. When they arrived, they were immediately thankful that we (specifically the 11yo, but all of us really) had visited the stadium LAST June instead of this one. It was all under construction. The front entrance, the museum, the restaurant where we ate (and where the 11yo had his Packer Pride hotdog…a hotdog inside a brat wrapped in bacon; aka a heart attack waiting to happen).

Here’s a picture in case you don’t recall.

Last year he was disappointed when he couldn’t go in the Packers locker room…imagine the weeping and gnashing of teeth which would have ensued if he didn’t get to see much of anything had we gone this year instead!

However, when I told him that things were under construction at Lambeau this year, the first thing he asked was, “Was the gift shop open?!?”

He had given his grandparents specific instructions on a particular item he wanted them to buy for him, should they make it to Mecca.

Not to worry…the gift shop was open. And they bought the mousepad.

(Really, dude…all that stuff and you want them to get a mousepad? Ok…)

And I think they did some of his Christmas shopping too…according to my dad, they are just about finished with him for Christmas.

But I have digressed.

I was talking about the cheese. My parents brought to us some cheese. I’m not entirely sure where they bought said cheese.

Last year, we stopped at a “Cheese Outlet” for all our Wisconsin cheese needs.

Don’t judge…it was cheap(er) and still quite delicious.

Anyway…this time, they bought an assortment and split it all with us. Included in the haul was a lovely sharp cheddar, a divine colby-jack, and a beautiful (but slightly salty) white cheese with cherries.

Oh...and some cheese curds. I don't really know what cheese curds ARE but I prefer to be in the dark...I have a feeling I might not care to know.

Ignorance is bliss and all that...

If loving cheese curds is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Anyway...there was one additional cheese purchase which was rather intriguing: chocolate cheese fudge.

Yeah...a little bit of vomit came up in your throat, didn't it?

Well, I delayed a couple days opening it because I just could not fathom how that would work ensemble (read that word with a French accent...makes more sense. Trust me.).

I like chocolate.

I like cheese.

I like chocolate cheese fudge?

Yeah…my brain could not twist that far.

But the PBA were told (by my parents…thanks, Mom and Dad!) about the chocolate cheese fudge and they were asking/begging/demanding that we try it.

Please ignore the fact that my little cutting board is very stained from many years of use…I promise you that it was sterile.

So…I finally got it out of the wrapper. It was very moist and had the texture of a very soft fudge.

It looked like a rich chocolate fudge. With walnuts…those are walnuts. Not flecks of non-chocolate cheese, as I had supposed. Maybe you supposed it too? I wouldn’t blame you if you did.

Rest assured: walnuts...which almost turned me off right there. As with fruit, I like nuts just fine on their own, but I am not a big fan of them being mixed in my food (no need for inappropriate jokes...let's be mature here, people; keeping things high-brow. Always.).

Also note my fingerprint in the chocolate cheese fudge. 

Yuck-o.

So…this was my share of the chunk o’ chocolate cheese fudge. The four of us each got our own piece of it, approximately the same size as the one shown (Note: this cutting board measures about 4" x 6" so it's not a huge piece of "cheese" we're talking about here.) 

And in the spirit of Fruit (or Veggie) of the Week, we all smelled it and tasted it together. No faces were allowed to be made until everyone had been given ample time to assess said sample.

Upon the first whiff, I immediately thought “dog food”.

My brain could not compute this: “Surely it can’t really smell like dog food…”

And then I smelled it again,“Yup…dog food.”

And yet…I decided to try a bite…because even though it SMELLS like dog food, it can’t possibly TASTE like dog food, right?

I tasted it…and it had the texture of cheese. Finally something positive to say about the chocolate cheese fudge!

But then I quickly assessed the flavor; it was kind of, well, vile. I don’t even know what to say about it other than that…

Mr. Always Random, and both members of the PBA, however, enjoyed it thoroughly. Mr. AR even ate the rest of mine.

My head is still reeling from the experience: It wasn’t the flavor of chocolate, cheese or dog food (NOTE: not that I have eaten dog food, but I can imagine what it might taste like).

I don’t even know what to add to this post other than: cheese should look, smell and taste like cheese. Anyone else agree?

(I hope this post wasn't too cheesy for you...)

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Awards All-Around

It’s a major award. And no…that joke never gets old…especially with Christmas just around the corner.

Never.gets.old.

Here’s a clip in case you are confused:

So…I know you’ve been waiting hours, dare I say DAYS, to find out our winner of the poetry writing contest. But I am not telling you quite yet.

Sorry. (But not too sorry.)

Yes I shall get to it in this post, but not at the beginning.

Christine…no skipping ahead; I know how you are.

First I must toot my own horn…I’m like that, you know. Poets aren’t the only ones receiving major awards around here.

Miss Bloggypants has nominated me for the highly-acclaimed Liebster Award (I don't really think it is highly-acclaimed; if you've never heard of it, do not fret.). And if I am not mistaken, I believe that perhaps Lizzi nominated me for the same thing weeks (maybe even months) ago and I totally spaced it until now. (Sorry about that, Lizzi!)

Regardless, I never do such things according to the rules, but I instead make up my own. I am unaware of any bloggy-police out there who will arrest me or give me a ticket for failure to comply so I’m going to risk it.

(And if there ARE bloggy-police, please advise and I will cease to be so flippant; I'll only be a little bit flippant.)

So here’s how it works: I have to name 11 Random Things about Myself (this was not a challenge for me in any way, shape or form, lest you be concerned).

1. I haven’t been able to share clothes with my mother since I was in fifth grade (she’s tiny…it’s not that I am an Amazon; topping out at a massive 5’ 2.5” does not make one Amazonian).
2. Much as I love sugar, I would much prefer a breakfast of eggs and sausage instead of pancakes or waffles.
3. I never understood why people would put clothing on their dogs…until I had a dog. Don't judge.
4. I actually enjoying working out.
5. While I say that I would like to live elsewhere, if push came to shove, I’m not sure I would leave Indiana.
6. If I had to choose no coffee for a week or no chocolate for a week, it would be a very difficult decision.
7. Even though I L.O.V.E. the Broadway production of Les Mis, I really have no desire to see the movie, and I have come to a grinding halt on the book…this in spite of the fact that I skipped the 200+ pages about Waterloo; I just can’t.get.through.it.
8. I often wish I was British and try to goad Mr. Always Random into speaking with a British accent, merely for my entertainment. He can’t hold the accent for very long and usually ends up sounding somewhat Australian.
9. I’ve never broken a bone (knock on wood…)
10. I love to wear dresses (sorry, Kari…I know how you hate them)
11. I married Mr. Always Random for his dashing good looks, as well as the fact that he’s almost a foot taller than me and can reach things on high shelves without need of a step-stool (*swoon*)

Next I have to answer 11 Questions which Miss Bloggypants is asking me:

1. What is your favorite cartoon character? Why? Charlie Brown (ok, the whole Peanuts Gang, because I can’t really choose one…don’t want anyone’s feelings to be hurt! If I had to say to which one do I relate…probably Lucy, because I have been known to be a little bit bossy…so I’ve been told.)
2. If your house were burning down, what three objects would you try to save? Mr. Always Random and the PBA (since there are 2 of them, that makes up my three things)…notice I did NOT include Indy in my short list.
3. Name a gift you will never forget.  OK, I can’t possibly answer that one…there are too many. And for someone who’s love language is “Gifts”…both giving and receiving…that’s too difficult of a task. I’ll take a pass on that one (again, notice my devil-may-care attitude toward the rules…)
4. Name one thing you really like about yourself. My friends and family. (Sorry...that's two things...)
5. Does your name have a special meaning and/or were you named after someone special? It means “Follower of Christ” but I don’t know that it’s the reason it was given to me; I think my parents just liked it.
6. What is your favorite season (winter, spring, summer, fall) and why? Yes…which is why I live in Indiana. I don’t have a favorite season because I love them all when they arrive, and am usually glad for them to move along after a few weeks.
7. What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten? Umm…we’ve had a few weird fruits and veggies via the Fruit (or Veggie) of the Week with the PBA…but I have to say the Buddha’s Hand.
8. Do you have siblings?  If so, how many? (brothers? sisters?) Nope.
9. If you had this week to do over, what would you do differently? I would begin at Friday instead of Monday…and not look back.
10. What was the best vacation you ever had? Um…well, the trips to Hilton Head have always been lovely. Twice we went with my parents, both of MY grandmas and one of MY grandpas, and my aunt & uncle. So memorable for sure. We’ve been to Disney with the boys twice. And we went to London for our Honeymoon. And when I was in college my parents took me to the Bahamas (where I was about 10 feet away from Nelson Mandela...jealous, right?). And of course we had our two-week tour of the Western States just this past summer. How can I choose?!? Sorry…maybe I’m passing on this one too.
11. Have you ever been told you look like someone famous? If so, who? Yes, but I didn’t recognize the name. But before you presume that it wasn’t a terribly famous person, please know that I am not real hip when it comes to things like celebrities so that doesn’t mean a thing. I can tell you that it wasn’t Oprah...I do know that for sure.

Then I have to nominate 11 bloggers with followings of 200 or less. Fuddy-Duddy alert: I’m skipping that part. If you want to participate, please post your answers in the comments below. I know that I’d love to hear from some of you who don’t even write a blog (Cathy, Mary Ruth, Nancy, Casey, Krissie, Cindy, Penny…ok, there are MANY more of you but that smattering of names just came to mind; don’t disappoint me, ladies!)

And here are the questions I would like answered (and yes, I blatently stole some of these from the list of questions Miss Bloggpants had to answer...don't judge):

1. What is the craziest thing you’ve ever done?
2. What is your all-time favorite TV show?
3. Whom do you most admire?
4. What is one thing on your bucket list?
5. What is your favorite snack food?
6. Paper or plastic (or bring your own)?
7. What was the worst vacation you ever had?
8. Beer or wine (or something else or nothing else)?
9. What is your favorite animal?
10. What is your earliest memory?
11. Do you collect anything? What?

___________________

OK, now for the moment you've all been waiting for...the unveiling of the poetry contest winner. It is none other than: Jen at http://overholt8.wordpress.com/.

For those of you who may have missed it, here it is again:

Math is stupid

scalene is not square

and I don't care

baleen keeps me from getting eaten

when at the beach i am seaten

saline comes from my eyes

especially when i cries

homeschoolers are cooler

especially when they choose my poem

as they do work from home

And yes, the PBA were TOTALLY swayed by the title...as Jen predicted they might be; in fact, her exact words were "I needed a title and figured it might get a vote from the judges IF they also do not like math!"...and we all know that math isn't really their favorite subject.

Well played, Jen, well played. And congratulations for your big win! You can have all the bragging rights you'd like (if I knew how to make a button I would...maybe someone can help us out? Hint, hint to anyone who is capable of this...)

Thanks to everyone who participated...it was big fun and the PBA didn't even roll their eyes too much when I told them they had to/got to judge the contest.

Have a fabulous day!

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Back Out

So…imagine my surprise that when I took a break from my blogging this afternoon (ok, to be honest, I had the idea for my blog but had not yet put proverbial pen-to-paper…my as-yet-undiagnosed ADD may be why I am having trouble getting my writing done; or perhaps it simply due to the high levels of sugar from the Salted Caramel Pretzel Bark I made a couple hours ago…thanks so much to Lizzi for mentioning it to me today so I HAD to make it. Again.); I saw that my blogosphere friend Dyanne had posted about getting older. 

(BTW Today is her birthday so please stop by her blog and wish her a happy one!)

I wish my post was half as joyous. Mine, too, deals with the issue of getting older. And while Dyanne is apparently getting better as the year go by, I am simply falling apart.

I could not be kidding you less.

I am 2 ½ months shy of turning 40 (no parties please; but I will accept cash and/or gift cards to Target or Starbucks…just in case anyone’s asking…), and there are days when I am not entirely certain that I am going to make it…in one piece or even in multiple ones.

I have some issues; some of which are not fit to print, so I shall not even allude to them. However, there is one I feel compelled to share. This is a very serious subject so put on your “about to receive somber news” face right now before I begin.

My back…it’s really not what it used to be. (Think: The old grey mare, she ain't what she used to be...same idea.)

You know you’re getting old when you throw your back out.

To be honest, it is something I thought could never happen to me (until it did about 7 years ago for the first time and has happened a few more times since then; once when I picked up a gallon of milk from the trunk of my car. No laughing…I told you this is serious.).

It has happened again this year.

Not just once but twice.

And honestly not just twice in a year.

I have thrown out my back twice in the span of about two months.

Twice.

TWICE.

In two months.

Want to know how?

By sitting.

I am certain that those of you who know me in real life will be surprised that I sit much at all, other than at my computer. And to be fair, I do tend to sit at my computer kind of a lot.

But it’s not the sitting at my computer…because that is rarely (if ever) for long stretches of time.

These injuries are from (you may have guessed it already, you astute readers, you) sitting for long stretches of time.

So…let’s think back to my calendar for the past couple months…when have I spent copious amounts of time sitting? That’s right…I did spend quite a bit of time in the car on vacation.

Now, I LOVED vacation (Feel free to search my posts for the 16...yes 16, posts I wrote about this year's vacation; it was a quest...a quest for fun...movie reference anyone? It's kind of a gimme, actually...). I had a lovely time and wouldn’t have changed a thing; OK, maybe I would have made it longer so we didn’t have quite so much time in the car on some of the days. But at the time, that’s not what I would have said. When I’m ready to get somewhere, I don’t stop and take the scenic path…I take the direct, no unnecessary stops route.

If you know me at all, you know this is truth being spoken right here. I would never be anything but forthright.

And I know Miss Jackie & Bill (who took care of Indy...and yes, there are 22 posts including Indy...but I only included the most recent...while we were gone) probably did not want us to extend our trip; in fact, I am quite certain of that.

But looking back, it might have been a back-saver.

Might.

But doubtful...considering what happened just a few weeks later.

The second injury was just a couple weeks ago, during the course of our Foster Care License training. 

Those two days of several hours each (9-4:30 one day and 9-6 the other) …sitting in hard, plastic, unforgiving chairs.

Perhaps I should have taken a pillow to provide myself with the lower lumbar support to which I have apparently become accustomed…or maybe just simply need. If I were accustomed to it, I probably would have thought to bring a pillow…but I digress.

Now…are you ready for this? It’s not so much that I have thrown out my back. I have knocked my …drumroll please…my tailbone out of alignment.

My tailbone.

Out of alignment.

TAILBONE.

How is that possible?

The second time my chiropractor snapped me back into place (ok, not really…it was through a series of precise manipulations based on knowledge he has learned over many years of school and practice…but it still feels like he’s just snapping it back in place), his question to me was, “So, are you taking a break from sitting for long periods of time now?”

He got an eyeroll.

On an unrelated note, I’m not sure where the PBA get their insolence.

I’m sorry…I can’t talk about this anymore.

Best that I put it all behind me.

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Wordless Wednesday: 10yo's Vacation Photos

Since this is a Wordless Wednesday, I shall make this brief...but I got to thinking that lest you think the 10yo was ONLY about quantity of photos vs quality, I decided to show off some of his work as well.

Feel free to encourage him, too, as you see fit. Thanks!

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Lessons from Vacation

I promise (and promises were made to be broken so don’t hold your breath or anything here) that this will be the last post in which I throw myself whole-heartedly into vacation.

I have been back for a week and I should probably give myself back over to a “real life”.

All this rambling to say, I wanted to share with you a few of the little nuggets I gleaned from the trip.

Some are totally new insights, and will serve me well at a later date.

Some of these are simply reminders of things I had already been taught but had maybe forgotten.

And some of them are merely reinforcements of that which I knew and HAD NOT forgotten.

And then there are the few things which I did not know, nor did I need to know…they do not, in any way, shape, or form, contribute or benefit my existence. And yet I now know them.

And now you.will.too.

But before I begin, I must mention that there are a few things…and I assure you that I limited myself to a few…there MANY more I could, and maybe should, include…but I am not.

Try not to cry yourself to sleep or anything. I have plenty of mindless, worthless information to dispense…plenty for ALL.

You’ll see.

In fact, you may not even need to cry yourself to sleep because I may bore you to sleep with this post.

Of course I hope not…but it is always a possibility.

I realize I’m not as engaging to the reader as I am to myself.

Some people call it “narcissism”…I simply call it “playing to the true fans”.

I’m certain I have piqued your attention so I shall get on with it; I give to you, in no particular order and without any rhyme or reason: the things I learned/was reminded of/could do without ever knowing from vacation.

1. Listening to PBA playing a game in the backseat I have some insight into how I sound via my 12yo’s comments to his brother: “Um it would be helpful if you'd notice that the cards are sliding everywhere.”
2. When the person with the remote start key fob gets out of a running car, the alarm emitted by the car sounds like a child repeatedly hitting the same note on a Casio keyboard.
3. DQ is basically the same everywhere…just more expensive. This was a happy surprise, as dinner on one of the nights in which we partook of DQ (yes, there was more than one…don’t judge) left something to be desire.
4. Which brings me to the next learning point: just because the deck of a restaurant right in the heart of town is crowded every night, do not presume that the food is good…the place might just have a good location, great mixed drink specials, or a combination thereof.
5. I truly only need to do 3 (maybe 4) loads of laundry in the course of 2 weeks, because boys don’t mind wearing dirty clothes as much as one might hope they would.
6. One disposable razor is not enough to shave my legs every day for 2 weeks.
7. Hotel fitness rooms are not crowded…in either the morning or the evening. And anyone who IS in there, is C.R.A.Z.Y. skinny. Except for me…I am probably in there but I am not C.R.A.Z.Y. skinny…or skinny at all; I am simply C.R.A.Z.Y.
8. A van traveling at a high rate of speed can stop quickly when a deer unexpectedly runs out in front of the van from the steep side of a mountain.
9. When going hiking, if a trail is clearly a horse trail at beginning, it's probably a horse trail the whole way through. While you might not see much of the glorious scenery surrounding you, you will become quite adept at dodging horse poo, as well as announcing it to those around you.
10. Most people don't understand trail etiquette…it’s just like driving, people: stay to the right. If the trail is only wide enough to accommodate two people, and you are walking two across, but you are approaching people walking in the opposite direction, then ONE of you needs to either move ahead or fall back so both parties can easily pass one another; do not expect the oncoming party to step completely off the path so you can continue, unencumbered. That’s rude. In any language.
11. Lots of people can't read ...pack out your trash instead of throwing it on the path or in the water, and stay on path provided for you…do not attempt to create your own. There MAY be a reason why you need to stay on the path that does not involve people simply trying to be controlling.
12. A trail marked as an “Easy” trail in the Tetons is different than one marked “Easy” in Indiana…and you should probably adjust your lungs accordingly.
13. When your 12yo orders a Kobe beef sandwich for lunch, or selects an outfit at Eddie Bauer without regard to the price tags, you just might have a child with expensive taste buds. (Side note: I hope he will some day have a checkbook to keep up with his high-end taste…and to support his parents as well. I'm nothing if not optomistic.)
14. Not every family we encountered appeared to be having as much fun as we did.
15. The Hampton Inn gets you addicted to their mid-afternoon “free” cookie fix.
16. Between the water in the hotels out west and the constant wind outside, the conditions we endured were not conducive to good hair days. As I became fond of saying, “I look like I’ve spent some time on the prairie.”

As you read this, please picture Stands with a Fist from "Dances with Wolves"...you know who I mean...the woman who was adopted by the Native American tribe, who Kevin Costner's character ends up marrying...remember her hair? Oh yes...now you've got the picture.

I'm sure that I was able to share something to help improve your quality of life...and now you are even MORE thankful for my trip.

You are welcome....that's the kind of writer I am. Giving. Self-sacrificing. All in the name of lessons learned.

Have a fabulous day!

Salute to America: Photos from the 12yo

So...I shared some photos a couple days ago and talked about our trip to Green Bay. And about my 10yo.

Today I wanted to share with you a tiny bit about my 12yo. I know, I just wrote a whole big bunch about him a couple weeks ago when it was his birthday, but that was mostly just stuff he had no control over...his birth.

This is about him and his photography work.

As you may recall, I mentioned at the beginning of our vacation that my dad is a photographer for the IMS, and he's cultivating (or at least attempting to cultivate) this interest in the PBA.

The 10yo is more about quantity than quality.

The 12yo seems to really have a knack for this photography thing, however, and will even work to get a more "artsy" kind of shot.

So, without further delay, I give you Mrs. Always Random's "Salute to America: Photos from the 12yo"

Feel free to share your thoughts either below or send me a message...any young, budding artist needs encouragement, right?


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Wordless Wednesday: G.R.O.S.S.

Just for frame of reference, this is, HANDS DOWN, the GROSSEST thing I have seen in a long time...and keep in mind that I had to share a bathroom with the PBA for a good part of the vacation.

Can everyone see what is so UTTERLY disturbing about this? I don't know how her pedi looks (it might be awful too, but I'm not here to judge that today)... but her camcorder...you know, that thing which would probably/potentially be up next to her face (or close enough!) as she is recording, is sitting on the floor of a public bathroom at Mount Rushmore.

Words cannot describe the level of my gagging. However I clearly was able to stop the gags long enough to snap a quick photo.

I couldn't miss an opportunity to share this with you. I am professional if nothing else.

And, I must say, it truly added to the overall "Mount Rushmore Experience"...


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Above the Pack

As you may or may not know, my 10yo is a die-hard Packers fan.

It began when he was 4 years old. Brett Favre was #4. For the Pack.

And my 10yo somehow, at some point, noticed the large “G” on the Packers helmets. And being as how his name begins with this very letter, he somehow, in his mind, decided that it was all for him.

Divine intervention, perhaps. But probably not. I call it “chance”.

Regardless, following our visit to his Mecca, aka Lambeau Field, (I’m certain you saw the pictures in the post from the other day, but here are some more…taken by my expert photographer father, so they are clearly better quality), my 10yo and I had the following conversation; at the time, he was wearing the same jersey shown in the picture…the one with stitched-on numbers and letters. And yes, I did buy it big so he could wear it for a good, long time.

Heading into the tunnel...the VERY tunnel the Pack use on game days...ooooohhh, aaaaahhhh.

10yo: I'm going to save this jersey to give to my children ...if I ever have children. (Note: He’s not saying this in a sad sort of way…just making a realistic comment.)

Me: If you find a girl who's willing to marry you? (Note: I'm nothing if not supportive. And let’s be honest, folks…he’s a sweet boy but it’s going to take a special kind of girl who can see through the goof-ball. I figure she’ll either be off-the-wall-crazy, or be a saint; I’m clearly hoping for the saint.)

10yo: Yeah so long as she's not a Bears fan... (Note: this would be the worst sin she could commit, as far as my 10yo is concerned)

Me: Well I wasn't a Steelers fan when I met your Daddy (Note: Mr. Always Random is a HUGE Steelers fan…back from the 1970s…the Steel Curtain era…and when there was no team in Indy)...in fact, when I met Mr. Always Random, I wasn't really a football fan at all. I still don't L.O.V.E. it but it is entertaining to watch. When it's not my child potentially getting clobbered. Other people's kids don’t bother me quite so much...well actually adults playing doesn’t bother me. Kids playing kind of bothers me...but I realize that for an adult to play well, he has to play as a child. I'm getting all tangled up so I'll quit right there.)

Then the 10yo continued: "But if that's who God has for me I guess it will be ok. Football doesn't ALWAYS bring people together."

See what I mean? Sweet boy…

Have a fabulous day!

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