Say what?

I’m a city girl who married a country boy.
Our (his) family dinners are always interesting.
This evening we discussed pig snout sandwiches, options for dealing with an aging dog and the hazards of raising chickens.

I tried hard “not” to listen to the pig snout story.
I just about lost it when Grandpa Kenny described how the mayonnaise squishes through their nostrils when you bite down into the bread.

The chicken story simply amused me.
My sister-in-law Kat bought 50 baby “broiler” chicks to raise for eggs and well…
chicken dinners.
Not only does it strike me as an inordinate amount of filthy work, but it’s dangerous as well.
Apparently 50 % of the chicks turn out to be roosters and Kat had to be armed with a garbage can lid and a baseball bat each morning in order to collect the eggs safely.
Those cocks are mean!

No doubt table talk eventually turns to catching up on news from old friends and neighbors.
“Tom Jones (his real name) called me yesterday” Tony told us.
“He asked about you specifically Chrissy.”
My heart skipped a full beat.

I used to have the biggest crush on Tom Jones.
But I haven’t seen him in a couple of years; not since he ran off and married some ol hen up in Nebraska.
(No bitterness here!)

My friend Robin, (Bubba’s wife) and I would sit and talk with Mr. Jones for hours.
We were smitten and didn’t care who saw.
I think I actually drooled over him a time or two.
He was a little older, a little wiser, and he just had this "cool" factor about him.
He reminded me of the Robert Kincaid character in “The Bridges of Madison County”.
A Gentleman Cowboy…that’s what he was.
And easy on the eyes taboot!

“He did?” I asked Tony trying to hold my composure.
“Yep, he sure did.”
“Did he ask about Robin too?”
“Nope, just you.”
“Oh man I can’t wait to rub that in her face. What’d he ask about me?” totally disregarding the fact that Mike was sitting right next to me.
“He asked if you’ve gone to seed”, Tony said.

Say what?

“Gone to seed”, Mike piped in (gleefully).
“On the farm, they’ve got to fatten up the animals.
So they neuter them to turn their minds from ass to grass.
Tom Jones wants to know if you got fat.”

It’s not often that I’m rendered speechless.
But there was a definite delay before I got up the courage to ask Tony how he responded to the fine Mr. Jones.

“I told him your mind was definitely still on Ass” he said.

Now that’s a Country Boy whose Mama raised him right.
Even a city girl with a little "junk in the trunk" can see that.

Thanks for having my back(side) Bro...

Attack Mildew at its Roots!

I’ve really been after Nicholas lately about brushing his teeth.
He is almost 11 now and cleanliness, be it his teeth, his hair or changing his underwear is simply not a priority to him.

Veterans of Parental Warfare tell us to “pick our battles”.
Well personal grooming habits are non-negotiable as far as I’m concerned.
I’ll admit it, I’m a nag.
Brush your friggin teeth!

Twice last week, Nick failed this simple morning task.
He had just been to the dentist for a cleaning and was told that he had beautiful, healthy teeth.
That compliment did not help my cause!
It was clear I needed to turn up the nag-factor.

The next morning, clearly with attitude in my voice, I demanded to know,
“Nick, did you brush your teeth?”
“Yes Mom, I used the pink toothbrush.”

Other than being somewhat baffled as to where he might have gotten a pink toothbrush, that statement meant nothing to me at the time.
I was just glad he had brushed them.
A couple of hours later in the shower however, it did!

It seems I had attacked the shower tile with some Tilex and a “pink” toothbrush the day before.
Apparently, I failed to remove the brush from the shower floor.

Nick, being the slacker that he is, thought…
(Who am I kidding; I have no idea what the hell he was thinking!)
He picked up that nasty-ass split ends toothbrush and proceeded to use it in his mouth!

Trust me, disgust came later.
Initially, it was panic.
I jumped out of the shower and reached for the phone.

“Hello, Nurse Peggy? This is Chris Baker, Nick’s Mom.
Could you possibly pull him out of class and check his mouth for blisters?”

“Um, well…actually Peggy…it seems that Nick brushed his teeth with Tilex this morning.”

“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yes, I understand that it’s highly poisonous.
No, no. I doubt he ingested any either, no need to call Poison Control.”

“Ok, thank you Peggy.
I’ll just wait for you to get back with me once you’ve checked him out.”

Ring, ring, ring.

“Hi Peggy. Oh, that’s great…no sign of blisters.
Just out of curiosity though…What did you tell Nick the reason was for you looking into his mouth?”

“Ahhh. You told him I cleaned the bathroom with the pink toothbrush.
He thinks it was the toilet?
He said he can’t wait to get home and brush his teeth a thousand times?”

Mission Accomplished.
No more “Potty” mouth.

Hmmm...now what can I possibly do with his comb?

Hawk

Larry Lee Hawkins was the name his Mama gave him.
But everyone just called him “Hawk”.

I’ve struggled for words tonight, this being my third attempt to write something meaningful that could possibly do any justice to Hawk’s memory.
But the words don’t come.
Not yet.
I think our wounds are still too fresh.

I can however, share a story with you from today.
I consider it Hawk’s last gift to us.
Maybe it’s all the words needed, to describe the kind of man he was.

We were driving home from his Memorial Service.
It was held up in Beatrice Nebraska, the boys’ hometown.
A difficult day no doubt, it was made even more stressful by the weather.

We knew it was coming; it had been forecasted since last night.
We hit it dead on.
An icy, snowy mix nearly blinded us as Mike navigated the truck south on I-29 towards home.
We were all tired and our nerves were shot.
It was a dangerous combination.

No one was talking much either.
There was no movie in the overhead DVD.
No iPod’s in anyone’s ears.
The kids, and Mike’s Mom who had come along, were just melancholy.
I was a bundle of nerves.

“Look, there’s a hawk!” Mike said suddenly, and pointed to a light pole alongside the highway.
“And there’s another one on that pole” Nick added.
We all looked out the windows and were amazed by what we saw.
As we traveled down the highway, there was a hawk perched on almost every other light pole.

Given the weather conditions, one would think they would be seeking shelter.
Not openly exposing themselves to it.

Call me crazy…but those weren’t just ordinary hawks up on those poles.
They were our “Guardian Hawks”.
Seemingly, they were guiding us home.

I-29 was closed behind us a short time later.
But we made it home safe and grateful.

Grateful to Hawk, who had our back…
One last time.

I Can’t Tell her… Again

Our friend died yesterday.
Larry was Mike and Tony’s boyhood friend.
Their strong bond only strengthened over the years.
A divorced father of two, Larry would spend most holidays and family celebrations at Tony’s house where we would all congregate.
Those three boys would tell tales that only got taller with time.

Christmas night at our house was the last time we saw Larry.
He died peacefully, yet unexpectedly at his home.
Alone.

Mike called me from New Orleans to break the news.
After my initial shock, my thoughts turned to Jordan.
How are we going to tell her?
She was crazy about Larry, and he returned her affection.
“You’re going to marry my son one day”, he’d tease her.
“Only if he’s a Cowboy”, she’d retort.
And then they would laugh.

It’s been 24 hours now and I still haven’t told her.
I don’t know how.
She has experienced so much pain this year, so much loss.
But somehow, through it all, her spirit continues to soar.
Now I risk breaking that spirit again.

I can’t do it.
Not today.

Mike will be home tomorrow.
I guess we’ll sit her down then.
Yeah.
Maybe tomorrow will be a better day to break her heart.
Again.

Damn it’s Cold Inside

We woke up this morning freezing our asses off.
The temperature in the house registered 58 degrees.

The furnace did not respond when Mike tried to turn it up.
This is really bad news during a wicked cold front.
He headed down to the basement to check it out while telling me to get the number of the furnace guy.
Cha-Ching.

Something down there made him suspect it was the gas lines, not the furnace.
“Did we pay the bill?” he yelled up!
Thank God for Auto-pay, it saves me every month.

But there was no gas.
We tried the gas starter in the fireplace and nothing came out.
At this point, I jumped in the shower.
I’m no dummy…I nabbed the hot water while we had it!

A few phone calls later to the neighbors and we found out no one had heat.
Most everyone thought it was their furnace shooting craps and had already called for repairs.
The good news: No repair bills.
The bad: No heat.

At first the Gas Company told us that a sub-station had frozen and they were repairing it.
Later however, a different story surfaced.

It seems there is a “distribution problem” and it’s ongoing.
The growth out here where we live is so explosive, that the utility companies can’t keep up with supply.
Especially on these Tundra type days.

We had heat again a couple of hours later once the supply replenished.
But I think the lesson here is clear.
“Conservation” is not just some kooky idea concocted up by the Green folks.
Like it or not, we better start thinking about changing our ways.
Even out here in bountiful suburbia, the land of abundance.

Oh Nuts!

The kids and I were driving home from a visit with TC this afternoon.
There’s always a lot of medical talk on these visits.
Nicky was apparently still in that mindset.

“Mom, will Dr. Joe have to give me any shots to go to 6th grade next year?” he asked me.
“Hmmm…he may give you a tetanus shot” I replied.

Nick was in the back seat and I’m assuming the radio was a little too loud, because he got all indignant and announced,
“No way. No way is anyone touching my nuts!”

Tetanus shot…touch your nuts…tetanus shot…touch your nuts.
I suppose it could have gotten screwed up in translation.

After Jordie and I recovered from our fit of laughter,
I broke the awful news to him.

“Oh yeah Nick…that too!”

I Told You She Was Ugly!

Ashley's senior proofs are ready.

For any of you interested in taking a gander, click on: www.imagequix.com/accounts/B967Y9G

Scroll down to the bottom of the page and click on "Ashley Knedlik".

It will then ask you for your email address.

This is strictly for the photographer's records and she will not pass it on.

You will then be presented with a password screen.

"knedlik" is the PW; all lower case.

You will receive a message that says the event photo's will only be online until 2/2/07.

Click "OK" and you're in.

Remember though...

Enter at your own risk.

She's very hard to look at!!!

(Love you Stinky Pants!) acb

Kodachrome

They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's a sunny day, Oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away.
(Paul Simon, 1973)

I’ve enrolled in a Digital Photography class at the local college.
It starts next week and I’m very excited about it.
I never really dug traditional photography.
I admire it, but it’s not for me.
Way too much work.

My sister Toby is a traditionalist when it comes to photography.
She’s even built a darkroom in her guest house.
I’ve not seen any of her stuff yet although I’m sure she has some.
Not only is it a process to develop the pictures but it’s another to share them.
Especially across the pond.

Ahhh, the digital age.
Shamefully, I fall into the “Instant Gratification” generation.
Point, shoot, send.

Now however, I’m ready to kick it up a notch.
This class is extensive; six hours a week.
I will (hopefully) learn to capture, manipulate, correct, transmit, store and output images.
I’ve fooled around with Photoshop before, now I hope to master it.

Methods of Evaluation of Competencies, (College jargon, not my own!) will be based mostly on assignments and my final project/portfolio.
A Portfolio!
MY Portfolio…how jazzed am I?

I better get Tucker groomed,
Gussy up the kids,
And warn all my nappy friends to clean up their acts.
For the next four months, I’m gonna fancy myself a shutterbug!

Mama don't take my Kodachrome away!

Ashley Stinky Pants

That’s always been our affectionate name for my niece Ashley.
I don’t think she’s too crazy about it but she tolerates it well.
I think it’s clear to her it’s not going away anytime soon.

“Princess Ashley” is another favorite tag we label her with.
TC insists Ashley’s obvious royal bloodlines come from me.
When Ashley was in her womb, TC knew that this baby girl was different.
Her cravings tended toward finer foods and the pregnancy in general was more high maintenance than her first.
TC named her Ashley Christine and the poor darlin is compared to me often!

Mike and I brought her on vacation with us last summer.
You can imagine our reaction when Ashley announced on the first night,
“I like to be woke up with donuts and smiles in the morning”!
We still roar about that.

But the truth is, Ashley is the kind of kid who puts a smile on your face in the morning.
She’s bright and funny and has a genuine sweetness about her.
She’s also fiercely loyal and stands up for what she believes in.
She’s Senior Class President, a member of National Honor Society and this year's Editor of her school yearbook.

Yesterday I took Ashley to her senior picture “photo-shoot”.
The photographer was so excited when she laid eyes on Ash.
“Yay, a pretty one” she gushed!
What is typically a 2 hour shoot resulting in about 200 pictures turned into a 5 hour, 3 location shoot netting us over 400 pics.

I told Ashley it’s because she’s so stinkin ugly the photographer had to keep shooting until she finally got one she could use!
She just smiled that killer smile at me as her eyes shone like big blue diamonds.
“Thanks for coming with me today Aunt Chrissy” she told me.

No Stinky Pants…thank you for having me.

Cantik Remembered

Tomorrow would have been Dini’s 38th birthday.

“Cantik” is an Indonesian word meaning “Beautiful One”.
Dini was so beautiful.

She was also one of the kindest people I’ve ever known.
Dini never met a stranger, only a new friend.
I hope she’s with friends tonight.

Dini loved to laugh and I’d get such a kick out of hearing her.
She was so tiny, yet she could laugh so big.
I hope she’s laughing tonight.

Dini loved music and cuttin up the dance floor.
She could entice even the non-dancers to “bust a move”.
I hope she’s dancing tonight.

Dini was a connoisseur of fine food.
And she was a terrific cook.
I hope she’s chowing down tonight.

Dini was our Karaoke Queen.
Her angelic voice would leave us speechless.
I hope she’s singing tonight.

Dini’s incredible smile lit up the room.
And it lives on; on the faces of her beautiful boys.
I hope she’s smiling tonight.

Dini has left behind a huge void in our lives.
We love her and we miss her every day.
I hope she knows that…
Tonight.

iStupid

That’s how I feel about my new little iPod Nano.

I was so excited to finally get one of my own.
Jordan was quickly tiring of me sneaking hers out of her backpack in the mornings so I could take it to the iGym with me.
And I’ve got to say, I was really sick of her choice of iTunes!
(Although “1985” by Bowling For Soup is a catchy little song!)
Admittedly though, I’ve been somewhat “iChallenged” by my new red toy.

Finally, after a week of iScrewing around, I’ve got my tunes On and her crap Off.
But there are some definite iQuirks with the thing (or perhaps me).
Yesterday for instance I was on an elliptical trainer at the gym.
I was rocking out to some Don Henley when all of a sudden “Grillz” by Ali & Big Grip assaulted my ears.
iGrip THIS Ali!
Then get the hell off my iPod.

Another phenomenon I’ve noticed…
iSnobs.

These are the people (Mike and Jordan) who think they are superior to you because of their tastes in music compared to yours.
I am ridiculed in my own home for my iChoices.
I have plenty of good old Rock and Roll loaded but God forbid I have a Neil Diamond song on there!
And yes, I’ll come clean… I’ve got an il Divo number as well.
It’s Ave Maria in fact and it’s incredible.

I was in Best Buy the other Day.
Holy iCrap!
What “don’t” they sell for your iPod?
I was simply looking for a more comfortable set of earphones for my tiny little iEars.
I left the store an hour later totally overwhelmed and my giftcard still in my iPocket.
“You’ll figure it all out soon”, they told me as I left.

iHope!

I Can See Clearly Now

The rain is gone.
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)Sun-Shiny day.(I Can See Clearly Now. Johnny Nash, 1972)


I’ve not been seeing too clearly lately.
In fact, I’ve barely been seeing anything at all.
I’ve been too scared to look.
Too scared to write.
And definitely too scared to let go.

I tried hard to hang on to 2006.
It felt like I was holding my breath just willing time to stand still.
I was paralyzed by the fear of what lie ahead in the New Year.

Then finally today, I exhaled.
A long, solid, soul-cleansing exhale.
I needed to catch my breath.
Time waits for no one.

I had received somewhat anticipated, yet dreadful news today.
My friend Jill was diagnosed with cancer.
She is devastated, petrified and fearing the worst.

“What am I going to do, what’s going to happen to my girls?” she asked me.

I had a sudden flashback to October 2003, when TC was first diagnosed with breast cancer.
For a split second, I thought of all the things we would do differently.
Then just as quickly, I was overwhelmed by the thought of everything she, TC, had done right.
With that, I answered Jill.

“You will fight”, I told her.
“And you will live your life with vigor.
To your young girls, you will give the gift of independence.
Your husband will be given the opportunity to rise to the occasion and be the man he was always meant to be.
Because of you, they will learn compassion.
From you, they will learn courage.
And together…you will be strong, and you will win.”

Jill is numb today.
But I can see clearly now.
TC doesn’t want me to hold my breath anymore.
By doing so, I am disrespecting the very thing she wants for me most…
To “live my life with vigor”.

I love to write in my blog.
I love it when someone sends me a note and tells me I touched them or inspired them or that I made them laugh.

I was sad when the words stopped coming.
And I am grateful that they are back.
Jill gave them to me.

The song doesn’t say that the obstacles are gone.
Instead, it acknowledges and confronts them.
Most all of us will face obstacles this year.
If given the chance, don’t be blinded by them.
Confront them, face them, fight them if you must.
But above all else…
Hang on.

Hang on and wait for the bright, sun-shiny days to return.
I’ve got to believe that someday, they will return.
TC would want me to.