One’s Done, Two’s New

There are certainties that come with the crossover into toddler-hood.

1. Learning to walk is out….riding motorcycles

and jumping (at warp speeds)

is in.

2. Pureed food is through…Kid Gourmet is all the rage.

3. One balloon is no longer adequate, but twenty is acceptable.

4. Luckily, birthday parties are still cool.

5. And so is Mom….for now.

(Although her ugly birthday cakes put her in Coolness Jeopardy.)

Happy Two, Miles!

Sly Daddy-O

Ah, the age-old teenage trick of transforming pillows into a Sleeping Human Look-alike….

Wait…there are no teenagers in our house….

But it looks like….

You didn’t know that dads use this trick on their kids when said children are scared of being upstairs in bed, did you? :)

I Come Anon, Billy SHakes

*Warning: This post is riddled with inside jokes that are meaningless and downright stupid to you, dear reader.  Thus, I dedicate this post to Sheri, Alan B. Home Shea and Nicole’s favorite word.*

My Resident Genie, Alan Bubba, recently granted three wishes.

Hark!  Behold how it went down:

Me: Al, I beseech thee…let us depart hither and hie thither on a mini-vacation with friends for some good VR time.

Al: Poof!

 

Me: Prithee, wherefore and from whence did Christian Bale appear before mine eyes? 

(And who allowed these saucy oafs to stop in Richfield and ‘vend’ HGW?)

Ms. Dew: Sheri Do like that…

but your Virtual Lamp is now half-full.

Me: Al, let us make haste! To the Shakespearean Festival! 

Alack, I’ve missed it two years in a row and that verges on sacrilege.  I miss it.  I crave thespian-ism. 

Al: Poof! Hie thee hence!

Me: Ho!….I’m in St. George!

Al: Dost thou protest, fair lady?

Me: Fie! Art thou mad?

Forsooth,tis not Bora Bora and Nicole is not swimming under the hut, but  St. George is close enough to my beloved alma mater, Southern Utah University

                      

  

(Goooooooooo T-Birds!),

and its Tony award-winning  Festival, so whilst we’re here…

 

Me: Ho hum and hey nonny nonny, I do miss Billy and his plays.

Al: Poof! 

Me: Ho!   BIlly!  Oh, how I’ve missed your little (but oh-so-clever) balding head, my liege. 

 

Zounds! Methinks you’ve lost more hair since last we met.

Me: But Ho!  These plays are fabulous! 

 

So who cares about your hair? 

“There’s a cream for that….”

 

(The 39 Steps: Two of the biggest thumbs I can find way, way up!)

(Merchant of Venice: Five very bright, twinkling stars….)

*Note: We’ve seen A LOT of the Shakespearean Festival productions and have always been blown away. The Festival is not to be missed.*

Touche!

Barbecue and Brawn

America:

Land of the Free,

Home of the Brave….

and the very, very Tough.

Weighing in at varying degrees of unadulterated might,

meet the brute force competing for the title of

All-American Man:

Anger - use it, but don't lose it!

Quit yo Jibber-jabber!

I pity the foo.

As a kid, I got three meals a day. Oatmeal, miss-a-meal and no meal.

I believe in the Golden Rule - The Man with the Gold... rules.

Life's tough, but I'm tougher!

"Don't gimme no back talk, sucka"

I'm teaching fools some basic rules.

Meet my friend, Pain.

Hey, you with the teeth...

I'm gonna bust you up.

Competing for TRIUMPH in the

21 GUN SALUTE,

competitors played rough, played dirty and played…

footsies?

Anxious crowds lined the streets to cheer on (or jeer on) their favorite guys competing in the

Sugarloaf Sprint.

(Does it count if an Aussie wins an American competition? I guess he DID shed blood for the cause….)

Ardent admirers were poised and ready to crown the

Big Mouth American.

and brawn was brought in a fierce Tug o War,

street versus street,

hood versus hood,

sea to shining sea.

But after the competition waned, the awards were bequeathed, and the bragging rights claimed, the oohs and ahhhs of bright lights,

and good, old-fashioned fire inspired the most testosterone- driven male,

bestowed an ample amount of American pride, bravery,

and brotherly love.

Happy Birthday, America!

(Thank you, Mr. T. for your inspiring quotes….)