To steal a line from one of my all-time favorite television characters, Lucy Ricardo, I say,
WAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!
Suddenly my house is too quiet. Suddenly my house is too empty. Suddenly my heart weighs a ton. I will miss these three like crazy. My saving grace is knowing that I will see them again in only a couple of months. So--so long, farewell, adieu, . . . for now. Gosh, I love this little family with all of my heart! My feelings exactly.
So our F.R.I.D.A.Y. attendance was stellar on this particular hoohah! If you include Aldolpho (can you spot that cad in the pic below?), we had enough participants to form our own musical nonet! I know. I'm such a nerd. Nonet. Good grief. Who says nonet? Truth be told, we were really just an octet since one of our party of nine who shall go unnamed {it is me} possesses not a lick of musical talent and this person {it is me} has absolutely no right to be belting it out in public, thus causing embarrassment to him or herself {it is me}, as well as to the rest of the ersatz nonet. So, in reality, an octet it was. (By the way, did you know that lip synching is awfully fun? Not that I would know. Except that I do know. Unfortunately.)
[Full disclosure: There was no actual singing taking place but had there been, someone {me} would have put Milli Vanilli to complete and utter shame in the lip synching department.]
Kimball better watch out; Aldolpho is psyching himself up to dive-bomb right onto the top of little Kimball's noggin!
Were you guys looking at this picture thinking that Aldolpho and I had been banished to the "timeout-get-a-grip-it's-time-to-just-calm-down booth?" You'd be wrong. So, so wrong.
Actually, we were merely practicing up for this maneuver, cuz you just never know when this particular skill set might come in handy dandy:
My brain is rattling around in my head again, scheming up some new shenanigans for my family. Uh-oh. I think my family can already sense the urgent need to suddenly flee far, far away with the excuse of, ahem, "a prior engagement." Truth be told, the fam's eye-rolling skills need a good workout, so I thought I would happily oblige.
What have I got up my sleeve, you say? Well, this sure ain't it.
Neither is this. Oh, you guys are so silly! Which reminds me, does anyone remember the pushmi-pullyu from that horrid Dr. Doolittle movie starring warbley Anthony Newley? If you haven't seen it, don't bother. Seriously. Yawn.
Uh, no.
Hot dog! Now you're speakin' my language! Isn't this the cat's meow? The last time* we hopped upon one of these tandem bikes, I thought I was going to flat-out die of laughter. I haven't had that much fun since that one time when I was in the fifth grade and my friend, Kathleen Oaks, and I were rolling around inside of a huge refrigerator box, and I ended up wetting my pants from laughing so hard. Ha, ha, just kidding! Psst! Not really kidding. DO. NOT. TELL.
I'll be back with photo evidence of the latest in epic family shenanigans, so gear yourselves up for a good laugh at our expense!
In the meantime, I was perusing the website of the joint which will help me in my latest plot to once again spectacularly embarrass my family, and I noticed that not everyone is required to abide by those annoying rules designed to keep us from harm. Huh. It seems like letting this little detail slide is just asking for trouble, but whatev. BTW, what is that adage that people say? Practice what you preach? Who can spot the "oopsy daisy" in the screenshot below?
Did you spot the "jeepers, guys!" discrepancy? *The ghosts of shenanigans past:
Sean, Christian--your hair!
Isn't this adorable?! My mom was ALWAYS, ALWAYS up for some fun
Remember this? Don't we look like quite the Julia wannabes!
{There's that darling boy of mine. Have I mentioned how much I miss his happy little self?
Give me strength, people.}
I just adore this woman! Watch how Julia simply rolls with the punches as she ends up feeding David Letterman completely raw hamburger in the clip below. She didn't miss a beat. She is my hero! Wish I could be that unflappable whenever I end up serving my family raw beef. Whoa! Uh, uh, just disregard that, guys. Humina, humina, humina, er, um, raw beef? Me? You? Heh, heh. Oh, jeepers. Busted again.
Revisit our other Julia Child loopiness here and here.
Remember this missionary merriment? Here, I'll just go ahead and show it to you again since it is so ding-dong hilarious:
Christian launching himself into the Swedish smörgåsbord stratosphere!
I don't know why, but I suddenly feel so much closer to Christian after a recent outing I went on with Ashley, Kimball, and Dave. It's as if the thousands of miles separating my young elder and myself have suddenly melted away. You'll see why in just a jiffy.
(Sidebar: Looking at Christian's picture makes me realize something. I'm sure I'm completely wrong about this, but the thought did occur to me that perhaps I possess very dominant "goofball genes" which then got passed down to my offspring, causing them to be doomed to a life of shenanigans and harebrained-ness, just like me. If that is the case, Mama is so sorry, children. So, so sorry. But just look at that pic of Christian!)
Not one to be out-goofed, I insisted that the gang and I give Christian our full support in everything that he does, which, surprise! surprise!, includes this:
Kimball wants to be like Uncle Christian in every way, even to the point of stooping to doing "babyish" things--things for which he is much, much too mature but does them out of complete respect and love for his beloved Uncle Christian.
Ashley really poured her whole heart and soul into this effort, putting the rest of us springy-sproingy cowpokes to shame. Just look at that perfect form! You can see that even Kimball, a veteran of sproinginess, is in awe. Ten!
Dave was sadly mistaken when he thought an umbrella would be just the ticket to spur his camel,horsey,moose, molded plastic whatever to victory. As you can clearly see, he lost the race. The instant replay will bear me out.
I'm simply doing what comes naturally to me--acting like a complete goober. But I swear, I feel Christian is here, if not in person, at least in his unfailingly happy-go-lucky spirit :D
If all of this is not a tribute to Christian and all that he means to us, I don't know what is. We'd do anything for that awesome elder! Right, gang? Guys??? RIGHT?!!! Thank you. That's more like it. YEEHAW!
I don't know about you other mom-types out there, but sometimes I think that the dads in this world get to have an awful lot of fun with their kids at the expense of being responsible and accountable parental examples. And, I don't think that the dads in this world do so with any sort of naiveté or ignorance. Nuh-uh. They know exactly what they're doing when they offer their kids chocolate cake for breakfast and then play dumb to the wife. Are you kidding me? They only want us to think they're totally innocent of child-corruption so they can do super-immature stuff and still escape with their lives. They don't care if they receive a little bit of, "what were you thinking, anyway?" if it means they get a sincere high five, down low, too slow from their kids. But you know, when it comes right down to it, I'm thankful there are dads out there who will do the child-corrupting, super-immature stuff with their kids so moms like me don't have to. Stuff like, camping in the frozen tundra in the dead of January so a merit badge can be earned. Risking life and fingers while assisting in the making of a cardboard maze for a pet hamster. Volunteering to be the family member who gets dunked at the carnival. Going on the roller coaster just one more time with a pleading child even though the point of nausea had been reached two hours prior. Changing the oil in the teenage daughter's car. In the rain. So she doesn't throw a rod. Yeah. Child-corrupting, super-immature stuff like that. I'm glad there are dads out there fighting that good fight. So in honor of all you dads, and especially Dave, I give you:
Glory be. Love that. So much.
And, since you guys are just so stellar to keep coming back to this dippy little blog every once in a while, I think I'll also give you this:
Dad is Great Chocolate Cake!
That's a mighty fine breakfast if you ask me!
Here's the lowdown:
Bake up a delicious chocolate cake in a 9X13 pan. I know. For some reason it doesn't look very pretty, does it. Well, just hold your horses, people!
Use the handle of a wooden spoon to poke holes all over warm cake. This part was way more fun that it should have been.
“You see... I'm holy. Holey, Fred, geddit?" "Pathetic," he told George. "Pathetic! With the whole wide world of ear-related humor before you, you go with holey?”
This is the caramel ice cream topping goodness. Licking fingers is allowed.
And, you've experienced this goodness, right? I always score extra points if I leave a little bit in the can for he who shall not be named . . .
Working up a sweat here. I should get paid for this.
Now, just sit back and let the glory rain down upon thy head.
Dad Is Great Chocolate Cake
1 box chocolate cake mix
Ingredients indicated on box to make cake
1 jar caramel ice cream topping goodness
1 can sweetened condensed milk goodness
8 oz. Cool Whip or the like
1 cup Heath Bits or Score Bars*
Wooden spoon for rapping knuckles jk! jk!
Make and bake cake in a 9x13 pan according to directions on cake mix. Allow to cool for five minutes. Use the handle of a wooden spoon to poke holes at 1" intervals in warm cake. Pour entire jar of caramel ice cream topping goodness over cake. Do the same with the entire can of sweetened condensed milk goodness. Goodness gracious, sakes alive! Place cake in refrigerator for one hour uncovered. Remove cake from refrigerator, cover with plastic wrap and return to refrigerator for several hours or overnight (preferable). Just before serving, spread whipped topping over entire cake. Sprinkle with candy bits. Rap some knuckles with the wooden spoon if a breakfast consisting of chocolate cake becomes a habit.
Dave celebrating his birthday way back in April with his "Dad Is Great Chocolate Cake"
*I was fresh out of Heath Bits or Score Bars, so I improvised and used old Butterfinger Bars left over from, oh, I don't know, Halloween perhaps? So far, so good. Cross your fingers, though. We've racked up enough medical bills this year as it is :D
My little band of ten and eleven-year-old girls and I decided it was time to get our Zumba on! We enlisted the help of my friend who is an awesome Zumba-oniast, borrowed the basement studio of another friend, and donated our own sweat and tears to the occasion. I invited Ashley and Kimball along to help cover up the lack of my own Zumba skills. Luckily for you guys, there is no photo evidence of me and my flailing long arms and ridiculously awkward Zumba-ing. I don't think you could even call what I was doing Zumba-ing. It was more like me just hopping up and down looking like I needed to use the powder room. I. Have. Absolutely. No. Coordination. And, I'm not ashamed to admit it. I do a pretty good "Dawnce of Joy," however. So there is that.
Q: What do you get when you do a mash-up consisting of a little bit of Zumba and a little bit of Kimball?
A: Why, you get a little somethin' somethin', a little shimmy-shake, a little cha cha cha!
You get:
ZUMBA + KIMBALL = ZUMBALL aka KIMBA!
I'm not kidding when I say that I spared you your mental health by my not being in this video. You are so welcome for that. On a related noted, where did Ashley get those awesome skillz???
