The Flag Was Flying

Somehow it was almost Un-American but we had
no choice, it was either the tree or our house and
carport. Can you see the guy in the bucket at the
bottom of the page?

I Think That I Shall Never Saw

It wuz a day 2 remember ............... the lovely Oak tree, perhaps 55 years old, it shaded the kitchen window and the windows to the porch which is the dining room. Took all one evening, the next whole day, the next half day. Look at the hole in the trunk.........

The Shadowcards Agree...

Just for good measure, I went to http://shadowcards.com/, which I am now relying on for valuable social and financial advice, and I asked: "Will I ever be able to make the perfect steaming greasy plate of enchiladas, with lots of cheese and onions and guacamole salad?" (Reference Robert Earl Keen, Jr's "The Front Porch Song," which I just quoteth.)

And as an answer, I got back the word "wisdom" and a picture of a road going into a forest. This most definitely means that I will proceed on my adventure into the forest of Mexican cuisine, full of dangers like heartburn and excessive gas, but that I will emerge full of smarts, a Chili Queen blessed with wisdom and a lifetime supply of Bean-O.

I'm not thinking this is a low-calorie adventure...but I will sacrifice myself for the cause.

HEY FATTY JR!: Fire up that margarita machine! When we come in August, I will have a grand cheese enchilada unveiling that will make me very thirsty!

Fatty Gets Mexican, Part II: Learning My Cheese Enchiladas

So off on my adventures...the first thing I did was buy this cookbook, which I originally saw at Cat Crap's house. Thanks to my splurge on amazon prime, I had it in two days.

This is just about my favorite cookbook I own. It contains all of those recipes that I have tried to find on the open internet but have not been able to locate. Finding good recipes for Tex-Mex is a challenge. Too many people make chili con carne that tastes like spaghetti sauce and cheese enchiladas that contain velveeta.

Then I got cookbook. Tonight I made Chili Gravy (p. 74) and Original Cheese Enchiladas (p. 75).

Lessons Learned:

• Don't add any salt until you can taste test, especially if you use stock made out of bulllion.
• Don't use cheap chili powder.
  I used high priced "Ancho Chili Powder," which had a good, smokey flavor but was not spot-on for the sort of cheese enchiladas you get in good restaurants.
• Don't turn up the heat on the Chili Gravy as high as you think.
  I used medium-high heat (7), and my flour browned way too quickly, in 30 seconds, not 3-4 minutes. Next time, I will set the heat on 5.
• Add a little extra flour. My sauce was too thin--it needed to be a tiny bit thicker. Next time, I will add one tablespoon extra flour and be careful not to add too much water.
• Lard would be better than vegetable oil. The only lard in my house was stuck firmly to my backside, and I wasn't about to cook with it. I have seen Cat Crap's tub-o-lard (in a can, not on her can, which bears no resemblance due to all that fiber and chasing fifth graders!) and will be looking for the same.
• Update: Knowing I should research my cultural cuisine project carefully, Bumpus ran me over to our fay-vor-ite restaurant-run-by-a-pack-of-awesome-Mexican-ladies. I consulted with one of this wondermous people, and she said that they use only vegetable oil in everything except their tamales. The masa contains lard. Vegetable oil (not shortening) for all other cooking.

Even with my blunders the first recipe was more than edible. And it was damned fine with a large serving of cheap white wine.

Fatty Gets Mexican, Part I

I have to start off by explaining myself.

One of my good friends is of "Hispanic" ethnicity. That means she is Mexican. She grew up in Dallas but doesn't have big hair and her family's roots are in Mexico. She readily calls herself "Mexican," which I absolutely love because (1) that is what she is, (2) she is proud of her ethnic background, and (3) she isn't screwing around with words like "Hispanic" (which could mean a person from any country south of the US, thank you Mr. Nixon) or "Chicana" (which, when I was little and living in South Texas where most people are "Mexican," I used to think meant "from Chicago"). She is blunt and honest and she is who she is. I love that.

And I want to be like her, celebrate the huge part of my culture that came from growing up in South Texas. I may be white but I am damned proud to be a little Mexican, too. How could I not be a little Mexican, with Yo Mama feeding me beans and rice out of a bottle with the nipple cut off, TC teaching me to count to 10 in Spanish before I could do it in English, and all those Christmas Eve dinners of tamales and beans and chili?

So this summer, now that Goozie is one year old and blessing me by sleeping until 8 AM or later most mornings, and I don't have to get childrens ready for school and all that, I have a little more energy for adventures. This isn't necessarily good news to Bumpus, who then has to put up with my adventures.

What to do with an adventurous mind and no money? Accomplish some of my cooking goals! That and find an embroidered Mexican dress for Goozie (like those I used to have when I was 10-13 years old). The latter will come in good time. So we're off to the kitchen for my adventures...

I have always looked up to my big sister, thinking she is pretty dang cool, even when she was locking me in my room til I pooped my pants. Thankfully, she stopped doing that last year.

So when I visit her house, I take note of what she has on her desk (lots of cool cookbooks, school supplies, scrapbook supplies, gas-X, and fiber supplements) as well in her kitchen (new gadgets, microwavable rice cookers, and fiber supplements). Do you see a theme here?

And so you see, after a short break, I have made another orbit back to talking about poop.

Photo for Yo Mama

Goozie, standing on a ladder and trying to open the icebox at Aunt Choc's house.

Fatty Recommends: Fig-er Out the Future with Shadowcards

http://shadowcards.com/

Need to answer a difficult question? Check out this site. You ask a question, click on the "Shadow Card" button, and get two future-tellers: a word and a picture. Scroll over the picture and a little pop-up tells you more about what it means.

For example, I asked: "Why am I so damned impatient with my sweet, perfect children?"

And I got back the word "young" and a picture of an arm getting a shot in a doctor's office.

What does this mean? That my house is full of young children, that I am young/immature/unwise, and that I need a prescription to help me with my attitude.

Then I asked: "Why am I constipated?"

I got back the word "sex" and a picture of a broken heart. When I scrolled over the broken heart, it said I have "fear of loss."

What does this mean? That I have poop phobia and that if I were a sex fiend, then I probably wouldn't be so anally retentive. Bumpus will like that last bit.

Finally, I asked (this is too much fun to stop now): "Why do I always get lost on the salad dressing isle?"

Word: "shift," Picture: zigzag/the letter "Z."

Meaning? I keep shiftin' back and forth between Bacon Ranch and Creamy Parmesan and in all my zigzaggin' cannot make up my mind.

Fatty's Food Endorsement

What to eat when the hunter-meat-eater is away?

I highly recommend a WHOLE BAG of Bird's Eye Garlic Baby Peas and Mushrooms, along with some freshly grown tomatoes snagged from your neighbor's garden.

And a glass of cheap white wine.

Fatty Ponders: Will Anyone Notice?

Fatty Jr. and I had a feel-o-soft-i-cul (can't spell after two glasses of cheap wine) discussion about being in our 30's, which for anyone who cares, is the new 20's! Ha! And Fatty Jr. mentioned that one thing she has started doing in her 30's is plucking her eyebrows...

Well, about once per decade I pluck my eyebrows, too, so I figgered it was time. This has no connection to the wine and actually happened two days ago. But before I endev-er-d on this monumentous occasion (I got a lotta upper eye hair), I pondered a little...

Last time I considered plucking, the lady that hides my grey told me, with much ath-or-tee in her voice: "Why pluck your eye brows? They are light blond, don't show anyway, and no one is going to notice."

DAMN THE EYE BROW GODS! Why did you give everyone else in my family nice dark brows and lashes but leave me looking like I am perpetually just waking up after a night of doing flaming doctor peppers with the university bus drivers?

Sorry, I got distracted by my own self pity...

But if Fatty, Jr. is plucking hers, then I better pluck mine. Luckily, I gots me some eye-brow-ripper-outer wax strips. No fuss, no muss, just a little cuss: slap it on, smooth it out, rip it off, give a shout, and smoooooooth on a little aloe vera.

But then, suddenly, just as you're getting in your plucking happy place: the damn strip sneaks over a spot you intended to keep in your finely shaped "eye frame" (thanks Cosmo Girl) and BAM! you have ripped off the end of your eye brow...like the last third of it.

That was two days ago, and no one has said anything yet...could this be the BLESSING of having blonde eye frames? Fatty ponders...

Just for the Record: Fatty's Bach-ler-ette Act-tiv-it-tees

What does a thirty-something Fatty do when left ALL ALONG for the night, with no chilrens (at the saintly grandparents'), no hubbers (sorry, Bumpus), no work (I'm takin' the night off), and no money? Well, just for pos-tear-I-Tee's sake, let me record my to-do list right heyah:

1. Mow the yard on the riding mower...and go FAST.
Why? Because I can.

2. Eat cheap frozen pizza with a LOT of extra fresh onions added on top.
The revel in my lack of similarity to Rachel Ray.

3. Drink two large glasses of cheap white wine.
Fatty Jr. says that her palate has MA-too-er-ed and that she longer drinks cheap wine. Yeehaw! That's more fer me, Woman!

4. Go to bed at 8:42 PM.

If I'm not careful, Robert Earl Keen, Jr. might write a song about me.

The Result of Sugar Overload:Birthday Crack, Scissor Attack

So then, following a long day, a healthy dose of high fructose corn syrup, and a short lesson in how to open presents, Goozie Magoo went nuts. She started crawling around like crazy, squealing in glee, hopping on her bottom, and generally being a birthday crackhead.

Notice, about 2/3 of the way through the video, that she finds the scissors that I had hidden under a chair, behind my back. She is one strong-willed woman and was not happy that the scissors were off limits. Like any good crackhead, I guess she wanted a weapon to go hold up a 7-11 for more Oreo cookie fix. "GIMME COOKIE OR I WILL CUT YOU!"

Yes, this video has sound, and yes, all those high pitched screams belong to the princess.

Notice the array of Greco-Roman wrestling go on in the background...

HERE KITTY KITTY!

Right before the Cake Started Flying..., originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

The cake was much enjoyed, and then the quest began to make her hands look like to giant black bear paws. As you will see from the video below, she was successful.

Seamus, in his sheered glory, appreciated the handout.
(The video does not have sound.)

Goozie Magoo: The Ripe Old Age of ONE

Queen of the World!, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

What sort of fool would expect a princess to eat her dinner when the center piece on the table has OREOS on top of it?!? Helloooo? Dumb Mother? I'm now going to throw these crappy grapes and chunks of chicken and bread on the floor to make room for some TRANSFAT FILLED FANTASY!

I WOULD LIKE TO ANNOUNCE THAT I HAVE OUR TICKETS TO THE NEW HARRY POTTER MOVIE, WHICH PREMIERS JULY 11.

YES, I KNOW I AM SCREAMING.

Now I feel better.

Fatty Was Actually a Mexican Southern Belle: Shrimp and Spinach Stuffed Chiles

I love the "gettin' grody produce basket" at our local store. That's the basket where they put bags of get-em-outta-here fruits and vegetables, all marked 99 cents. They often put those bags of fancy salad lettuce, which normally costs 3.49, in that basket, and the lettuce is just fine, no sludge or nothing. So the first thing I do is check out what's on sale.

A few days ago, I got a bag of chile peppers, about 10 peppers for 99 cents. Judging by what I found online, they were some variety of ancho, about 4-6 inches long and 3 inches wide. Here's my first chiles rellenos...

Shrimp and Spinach Stuffed Chiles

1. Wash 6-8 ancho chile peppers and put them under the broiler until they are crackling and popping. Turn them over, and do the same for all sides.
2. Place the broiled peppers in a paper bag (closed) while they cool.
3. Hold under running water and remove skins.
4. Remove stem and seeds by slicing down the side of the pepper.
5. While you're waiting on the peppers to cook or cool, mix the following...
   -- 3/4 cup flour
   -- 1 cup milk
   -- 1 egg
   -- 1 tsp. baking powder
   -- 1 tsp. baking soda
   -- salt, pepper to taste
   -- garlic power or chile powder if you feel like it.
6. Brown one medium onion with some chopped garlic in a little olive oil.
7. Meanwhile, cook about a pound of shrimp (mine were frozen, medium sized, and had to be cooked and cleaned...any shrimp will do).
8. Also meanwhile, thaw one package of frozen chopped spinach and strain out most of the water.
9. When the onion is cooked, remove from heat and add cooked shrimp and spinach to the pan.
10. Shred 1/2 lb. of Mexican queso fresco and 1/2 pound cheddar cheese.
11. Add 1/2 of each cheese (about 1/4 of each) to the shrimp/onion/spinach mixture and stir until thoroughly blended.
12. Stuff each pepper with the shrimp/spinach/onion/cheese mixture.
13. Place stuffed peppers in lightly greased backing dish, in a single layer.
14. Pour the milk/flour mixture over peppers.
15. Top with remaining 1/2 pound of cheese.
16. Back at 350 for ~30 minutes. Do not over cook!

The milk/flour mixture becomes a sort of custard. I over-baked mine by a little and it was too "bready" rather than creamy. Reheating leftovers in the microwave with a little water much improved the consistency by re-constituting the breadiness. Next time, I might add one cup sour cream to the flour/milk mixture...

This was actually very good! Yea for having time to cook!

Thank you, Yo Mama, for all them bottles full of beans and rice when I was Goozie's size. You done turned me into a good Mexican!

Fatty Was a Southern Belle: Fried Pickles

Fatty, Jr. was here for a glorious three days of butt-sittin' and beer sippin'. The one thing she requested during her stay was to go to get some heavenly fried pickles from the restaurant about three blocks from my house. Who could deny anyone named Junior such a request?

So yesterday at 2:30 PM, I called to see what time they opened for dinner. The plan was to get two orders of fried pickles and bring them home as OR-DERVES to go with our cold beers. Of course, the plan did not work, because the restaurant is only open at random times when the owners feel like it. What does a good Fatty do? She takes matters into her own hands and gets out the skillet!

Fatty's Fried Pickles

1. Slice four polish pickles into rounds about 1/4" thick.
2. Lay in a single layer on a paper towel, to remove extra moisture.
3. Meanwhile (I love that word, as it implies gettin' into mischief while you are supposed to be doing something productive), put some flour--about 1 cup--in a bowl and add salt and pepper to taste.
4. In a second bowl, beat two eggs, then add salt, pepper, and about 2 tables spoons of half and half.
5. Dip 1/4 of the pickles into the egg mixture and toss to coat.
6. Move the slices from the egg mixture into the seasoned flour and dredge to coat.
7. Let them pickles sit in the flour while you heat about 2 inches of veggie oil on medium for about 10 minutes, until it's good and hot.
8. Drop them pickles carefully into that hot oil and let 'em fry 'til them boogers are golden brown.
9. Meanwhile, coat and dredge the next 1/4 of the slices and let 'em sit in the flour so it sets up, stickin' to 'em real good.
10. Sprinkle a little salt on the pickles when you take them out of the oil and let them drain on a paper towel for a few minutes...those suckers are HOT.

Makes two servings, which go just fine with four cold brs.
We don't talk about calories in my house, so just shut up about that part...but you can expect some bloating and gas later on.

THANK YOU YO MAMA, FOR RAISING ME RIGHT!

Venting, as in "Angry" or as in "Airing Out"?

Fatty to Bumpus: "Your fly is open."

5 minutes later...

Fatty to Bumpus: "Your fly is still open."

7.24 minutes even later...

Fatty to Bumpus: "Why don't you zip up your fly?"

Bumpus: "I'm venting."

Wisdom of Rufus #608

On the last day of vacation bible school, every child got a paperback Bible, which Rufus brought home and has been reading and studying all day.

Rufus: "I've found my favorite Psalm."

Fatty: "Which one?"

R: "Number 117."

F: "Why is that your favorite?"

R: "Because it's the shortest."

Fatty's Note to Self #608

Sometimes I need little reminders in life, so I don't go around making the same mistakes over and over and over, which I think is the definition of insanity...performing the same action but expecting different results? So, I have a new posting tradition, to go along with Wisdom of Rufus, Boudreaux on the Road, and Fatty Ponders: "Fatty's Notes to Self." These are just little things I should review every once in a while, since my brain has the capacity of a rotten cherry tomato.

In-aw-gerr-all Fatty's Note to Self:
Be aware of what you are wearing when taking kids to Vacation Bible School.
Perhaps "PeetyPeekers.com" t-shirt is not the best choice.

WHIRLED PEAS!

My Girl!, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

The bestest birthday present EVER: my baby likes green peas! She and her Mama are the only ones in this little house that love them some peas. Buy 'em in those new fangled steam-em-in-the-bag-just-pop-em-in-the-microwave sacks, smear on a little Buttery Spread, sprinkle around a little sea salt, and CHOW DOWN.

Don't be laughing at my peas, Buttery Spread, and sea salt. I have to save all my bad eatin' and drinkin' karma for my visits with family...

Nine Years Old. Holy Cow.

Swing!, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

This is the same little chubby punkin that used to obsess over Thomas the Tank, dance to Elmo's World, put himself in the corner when he decided he needed a time out, and love love love his Mama something fierce! Of course, way back then, he didn't have to share me with all these other people that the gypsies done left on our door step.

Thank God this first one was easy. Someone knew that I needed lots of training to learn something about being a mother...I still don't feel like I know much.

(After all, I'm only 25, remember?!?)

After the Swim, a Facial

Mmmmm Buttery, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

The best follow-up for an immunotherapy session in the blue Wal-Mart East Texus pool? A "Buttery Flavored Spread" facial. No transfats, no cholesterol, excellent eyelash conditioner.

Here KITTY KITTY!

Sip-a-roo, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Yo Mama saw the Gooz crawl up to the cat bowl and take a drink. No, I do not encourage this behavior, but like her Mama, this child LOVES the water and she loves her some kitties. These are good things, because she's going to have to take care of me when I am 107 and have 48 cats swirling around my house and spend every afternoon skinny dipping my saggy ass in one of those blue Wal-Mart East Texus pools in the front yard of the nursing home.

So we were putting up our current blue Wal-Mart East Texus pool, and she was being a big helper. When all that work made my girl thirsty, she just bent down and got herself a little sip-a-roo. Bacteria? E-coli? Snake skins? Dog vomit? No worries! Just a little immune system training.

Key difference between first-time Mamas and third-time Mamas: I just let her get in fully clothed, not wanting to bother with swim diapers and swim suits and all that crap.

Here Comes the Chief

Rufus and His Big Bat, originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

This child, precious and sweet and smart boy that he is, will either end up as the President or will end up in the clink...check out the look on his face. I Tappa Keg, here he comes.

Gooziepalooza for June

originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.

Wisdom of Rufus #607(How Could You Go to the Zoo and Not Get Some Wisdom?)

Today was Boudreaux's NINTH BIRTHDAY! Holy crap?!? How did he get nine years older when I am still a spry and limber 25 years old?!? Move over virgin birth! I've got a new miracle to proclaim: I ain't growin' up!

So on to our story...

For Boudreaux's birthday, we went to the zoo. There we were, in front of the tiger cage, at the very end of our lengthy visit. One male tiger was in front of us and turned around to go to the back of the cage.

Rufus: "What is that on his back?"

Bumpus, immediately sensing danger: "Stripes."

R: "No, I mean at the end of his tale."

B: "He has stripes all the way to the end of his tail."

R, persistent: "No, I mean at the other end of his tail, near the top, right under his tale...sticking out just underneath his tail."

Bumpus gets it over with: "That's his junk."

Fatty, singing to The Black Eyed Peas, along with some sort of little shuffling dance movement: "Hey Tiger, whatcha gonna do? whatcha gonna do with all that junk? all that junk outside yo trunk?"

Rufus, in his own wisdom: "We shouldn't discuss this topic in public any more."

Fatty Ponders: My Crapper Phase Orbit #7,842

Bumpus and I were just lounging about, reviewing the videos recently posted here. I have some sort of mental defect because every time I see the cat at the end of the talking cats video...the one that says "Oh Don Piano," I start laughing hysterically. I showed the videos to the little boys and just like an idiot kept saying "Just wait! Just wait 'til you see the one at the end who says all this funny stuff!" Of course, when we got to that part, I started laughing hysterically again. The boys just looked at me like I had lost my mind. They DID laugh at the cat poop though.

The last time I had this level of hysteria over something no one else found funny was when I was pregnant with Boudreaux. Any time I heard the word fundus I would start giggling uncontrollably. It all started one night when I tried it as a pickup line on Bumpus..."wanna check out my fundus?" And the look of utter confusion on his face made me laugh so hard that I almost wet my pants. That was BEFORE I had delivered 3 kids. Now I have to be much more judicious about peeing in the loo before I have a fit of hysterical dribbles...I mean giggles.

Anyway, I've wandered off topic. So Bumpus and I were watching all these videos, especially the more recent ones about cats pooping and training cats to use the toilet. He silently reviewed these along with the loverly Bart Simpson booty-ho tattoo (which Bumpus found while tinkering around online, by the way). And he turns to me and comments: "Boy, you've certainly hit a low in your blog topics. All you talk about is butts and poop."

I had to consider that for a moment, because he's right. It certainly isn't very attractive, and I DO have enough butts and poop in my life as it is. After some con-tim-play-shun, I done decided that I must be like an artist. You know how an artist will go through phases in his work where he concentrates on certain color or shapes or media?
"Oh, that's from his blue phase!"
"This work is from his cubist phase."
"And here, he was in his toilet rolls and copper wiring phase."

So, I've realized that I must have just been in my crapper phase...which I tend to be in with some regularity (yes, that pun is intended)...so maybe it's more like a crapper orbit...I'll have to continue pondering that...

The Adventures of Bumpus in the Elevator

Last week, Bumpus was taking the elevator from the third (top) floor of his high rise megaplex down to the basement. No, that is not some sort of metaphor for kinkiness.

Third floor:
Three people enter the elevator: Bumpus and two youngsters (20-ish), one female and one male. The latter is wearing a shirt that says "I love my wiener."

Second floor:
Another young male is waiting as the doors open. Upon seeing the shirt, he guffaws and says, "Funny shirt! But it would be even better if SHE were the one who was loving your wiener."

First floor:
Doors open and the two young guys disembark.

Doors close on the way to the basement:
Young woman deadpans, "Apparently he thought I knew that guy."

Do you love your wiener?

PS: Don't trust that "Click to enlarge" crap. Bumpus tried that on me and it doesn't mean what you think it means...

---

Added Later: Good Lord! I can't even spell WIENER properly when it's right in front of my damned face (as in on the "I love my weiner" sign above)! Now I've corrected it...Did I fail 5th grade, cat crap?

Added Even Later than That: Good Lord Part II! Different web sites spell WEINER WIENER different ways! Here's one. And another, for example. SO?!? Which witch is which?!? Now I'll have write it both ways from now on, leading me to develop a new tic. WEINER/WIENER CHICKEN DINNER.

Okay, My Final Addition and Then I am LETTING IT GO (tic tic): So now, I have put it back the way I had it before ("wiener"). Dictionary.com says that the right spelling is wiener. At least that's the way you spell the wiener that means hot dog and (GASP!) is slang for "penis"? Who knew?!? By contrast, "Weiner" is in Arkansas. Funny. I thought he moved to New York... (Of course, I couldn't resist that. It was just there for the taking.)

Wisdom of Rufus #606

Rufus is attending vacation Bible school this week and recently announced at dinner...

"Jesus is everywhere! Which means that right now, he is in my underwear, sitting right next to my peety."

I guess Rufus was feeling the Spirit within him.

Boudreaux Collides with Rufus on the Road to RU

Rufus: "Goozie is a hottie."

Boudreaux: "No, she's not. She's cute, which, when compared to the development of a butterfly, is like the cocoon phase of being a hottie."

Rufus: "Sort of like a Hottie in Training?"

How I Spent My Summer, Part IV

That cat had a way bigger bladder than I do...

What the hell are they feeding Nunchi? Fiber pills and cabbage?

How I Spent My Summer, Part I:Contemplating a New Tattoo

What is that red stuff in the center of this guy's belly button?
And won't it look even grosser when Bart's booty is all hairy after the shave wears off?

How I Spent My Summer, Part II:Wasting Time on You Tube

How I Spent My Summer, Part III: Wasting More Time on You Tube

Stand By 4 More

Yo Mama not about threw publishing,
now I got the hang of it. Got lotsa more
to wow you with. Specially them folks
in western part of the state.

Mimi Luvs Her Kids

Mimi misses her littlest family a bunch. Sure did have a good time, we got lotsa things done .... like DQ, puzzles and puzzles, Game of Life, even went Island Hopping. Made it to the Dollar Store, ate in the Happy Place where they have A-1 Mexican Food, got a fancy new hair-do. Even went to a mighty important athletic even in the city where Dear-Old-Dad was a big star. Kisses to all of you. Yo Mama

Where is Nelson ?

Mitey fine family photo but fergot to n-clude Nelson, the heart and soul of the outfit. What wood life B with no Nelson .......... jes can't imagine it. Mimi didn't even git a pic of Nelson this trip. Musta been outside in that dog run, I guest.

Mimi's side of the story

Mimi does NOT like the Game of Life. Jes lookit the banker smiling over all his money. Mimi did not like her career choices and sure nuf did not like them little blue cars with seating for 8 - mama, papa and 6 kids. WAY TOO MANY KIDS and n-e-way them kids wouldn't stay in there car seats, kept jumping out. And SUMBODY wanted the mama to sit on the back row with them rowdy kids and let the oldest boy sit up front with Dad-the-Driver. Whew! I'll take on a 100 piece puzzle n-e-day B-4 that Life Game. What a mess !

Sumthin not to do

Did ya ever wunder what you B lookin like if you put a whole grape
popsicle in your mouth at once? Go John Go !!

Meercat on duty

Got us a meercat on duty, watchin for Hannah and danger. Jes never no when sumthin x-citing mite crop up. Speaking of things like meercats, how com my college dictionary, Thorndike Barnhard advanced Dictionary, second edition, ain't got lots words we now all love and no. Like it never herd of a merecat. Guess the world was simpler back in the dark ages. Yo Mama wuz there.

Boy in back catching flies in his mouth

Jes looky past that handsome man a-watchin t.v. and get a load of the kid in the back catching flies with hissin mouth open wide like an al-e-gator. Suppose he be feeding sum flies to them snails N that fancy quarium givin 'em strength to make babies?

Anywhere U.S.A.

Take me out to the ball game, take me out to the park, git me a chare 'n a grassy spot, won't care if I ever come bak (or not). Root, root, root for ole number 7, ever game is simply heaven. Just ask Mimi, she been going to games for 64 or more years now .......... used to think I lived in a ball park.

Oh Dear, What Can the Matter Be/

Yo Mama got the answer - nuthin wrong cept the poor little thing is a middle child jes like his Mimi and he jes kaint win 4 losing. I shore do no how that feels. Had that smart older bro and little soul sister ................. Mimi unnerstands.

Git that boy a crystal ball

Looks to Yo Mama like him having sum sort of fit or meybe gitting ready to give a reading or be a Modern Day Nostradumbus or sumthin. Meybe he jes the king of making funny faces.

What wrong with that lady behind?

Lookin like she set upon a grape popsicle.
.............. or sumthin. Any idears?

Sun Weren't Even Up Yet on Thet Memorable Day

No more loyal
followers than
us 2 women, 2
boyes, 1 babie
1 dog. We were
on our whey no
matter fog, rain,
sleet nor snow.

Gonna join up race in 2008

Hannah sez it don't
look 2 hard .. gonna
start practicin today
and run with her
Daddie and swim
and bike too. Plans
to win it all.

Style Show Time

This kum-petitor is
a he-entrant. See
thet number on his
arm? Suppose he
gonna swim with
shoes, waterbottle
and hat too?

Wuz a Stile Show

M-portant to be in
proper outfit to be
there 4 to support
your honey.

How Come Jack Always Gotta Open Mouth?

It was a festivitie, 4 sure.
These boyes eatin one of
there mornin meals. Cept
that one on the left looks
like he jes yawning R meybe
makin a funnie face.