No One in my house:
Lost the bottom of the camping lantern when the power went off
Broke a vase from my wedding
Always eats all the cereal
Left dirty dishes in the office, not once, not twice, but 10 gazillion times
Took the zit cream from my bathroom
Returned the zit cream to the wrong place
Misplaced Claire's ballet shoes
Lost the H to the alphabet sound toy
Ate the food that spilled on the rug that kids are forbidden to eat on
Keeps eating the chocolate chips
Drew on the bench
Scratched the desk
Ate the rest of the Goldfish
Made any of the messes
Friday, February 8, 2013
Saturday, February 2, 2013
Antique Dorks
In order to make sure I don't forget, I have to take a few moments to write down this story. I went to an antique store with a couple of friends yesterday, and we had a laugh over an old framed daguerreotype (probably circa mid 1800's) which looked something like this (thanks to my photoshopping skills):
My friend made the observation that it was probably the only photograph this man would have in his lifetime and, as luck would have it, his eyes were crossed. Ok, it was more likely a genetic thing going on with his eyes, but it makes a better story to think that during his once-in-a-lifetime photographic moment he made a dumb face. Puts your bad middle school picture into perspective, doesn't it?
So then my friend is reminded of an ancestor's picture with a story behind it. Evidently, the man refused to pose for a photograph his whole life, so when he died, someone drew eyes on his eyelids and THAT'S how he's represented for generations since. I imagine (again, thanks to my photoshopping skills) that it looks something like this (and if I ever get a copy of the actual photograph, I'll be uploading it for posterity):
I'll assume you're intelligent enough to figure out what the moral of the story is.
So then my friend is reminded of an ancestor's picture with a story behind it. Evidently, the man refused to pose for a photograph his whole life, so when he died, someone drew eyes on his eyelids and THAT'S how he's represented for generations since. I imagine (again, thanks to my photoshopping skills) that it looks something like this (and if I ever get a copy of the actual photograph, I'll be uploading it for posterity):
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Poopy Towel: The Sequel
Don't ask me why the person in the picture has both boobs AND a beard. I don't know why and I would never venture that far into the psyche of the artist without leaving a trail of breadcrumbs.
Monday, December 17, 2012
Bevans Tribune 2012 edition
Stuff Happens - Other than Broken Appliances!
In business news, Todd usually enjoys being
an attorney, although the occasional crazy client can be taxing.
Todd and Alli are enjoying Friday date night
dance lessons. Todd is, surprisingly
light on his feet, and quite a swell dancer.
So is Alli (not surprising). They
are anxious to keep older kids from having a life lest they have to start
finding sitters again.
Sophie is wrapping up the final quarter of
her first year as a teenager. Her mother and father have mixed feelings about
this whole teenager thing. They are
apprehensive as two more sisters are hot on her high heels.
Janelle and Brooke are
enjoying the glorious age of 11 when they are still free of the restrictive
self-consciousness that comes with adolescent hormones. Lack of self-consciousness is wonderful for
the two of them, but at times embarrasses their older (“restricted”)
sister. It also prompts them to ask for
things like umbrella hats for Christmas.
Sassy and independent, Claire is busy making
her mark on everything she comes across.
She is excelling in school and reading like an old pro, complete with
passionate inflection – she can’t help herself, she’s a passionate girl. Which may explain why she allegedly punched a
boy in class for trying to look at her paper (details are still a little fuzzy).
As the baby of the family, Eden pretty much gets away with everything. When asked what her chore is (as everyone
else is sweeping or doing dishes or something) she always answers “to being
cute!”
An Interview with Eden
Who is the most beautiful
person in the world?
Me
Who are you going to marry?
Dopey
[Sophie]
Where are you going to get
married?
In
the bathroom.
Why do you want to get
married in the bathroom?
Because
the grass is wet.
What’s your favorite food?
Soup.
Can you tell me a funny
joke?
Knock,
knock
Who’s there?
Banana
head.
Banana head who?
Someone
pooped on your head!
Personals
SWF, age 13, seeks
member(s) of One Direction for possible long-term commitment. Enjoys sunsets and long walks on the
beach. Is willing to put up with
long-distance relationship while band is touring
Claire’s Classifieds
300
paper fans for sale. 50 cents
apiece. Buy any amount or all of
them. They’re really amazing paper fans.
Comics - by Janelle and Brooke:
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
On Sluts and DooDoo
I get the pleasure of helping out in Claire's first grade classroom every week. Some weeks I'm busy and wish I could edit it out of my day's to do list, but afterward I'm always glad that I went. Today was particularly rewarding.
The kids were just working on silent reading, so I helped a couple of them individually. The first little guy whipped through his Venus book in no time, so I went to help another little boy. He chose a book on bats. He clearly needed the extra help and attention as he struggled with simple words, sometimes flip flopping the sounds. There were several "igh" words that were tricky for him as well. After reading a page or two, he came across a word he'd worked through before and to his utter delight he remembered it! I loved seeing him get excited when he figured something out and it was correct. Those are the moments teachers live for, and I'm happy to have been given a small taste.
After working out the word "do", he exclaimed, "Hey! Now I know how to spell doodoo!"
"That's super!" I told him. "Now when you get home you can tell your mom when she asks you what you learned at school today that you learned how to spell doodoo!"
"My mom lives far away," he told me matter-of-factly.
"Oh, ok. Well you can tell your dad then."
"Um, my dad sleeps a lot...[insert sound of my heart breaking]...but I'll tell my grandma."
Sweet boy - can't I just take him home with me?? Why do there have to be so many darned laws?
A page or so later he was working out the word "sleep".
"sl...sl....slut?" he guessed.
"Uh....no....see there's no uh sound or t sound. See, say it with me, sl...eeee....p."
"Oh! Sleep!"
"Yes! And just so you know, 'slut' isn't actually a very nice word. It's a mean thing to call another person." and you'll probably never come across it in first grade unless in the form of graffiti.
He read for about 5 more minutes until the time was up. Then he looked at me very open and honestly. "I didn't know 'slut' was a bad word," he explained.
I think I made it to my car before I got a little teary. Why, again, can't I just keep him?
The kids were just working on silent reading, so I helped a couple of them individually. The first little guy whipped through his Venus book in no time, so I went to help another little boy. He chose a book on bats. He clearly needed the extra help and attention as he struggled with simple words, sometimes flip flopping the sounds. There were several "igh" words that were tricky for him as well. After reading a page or two, he came across a word he'd worked through before and to his utter delight he remembered it! I loved seeing him get excited when he figured something out and it was correct. Those are the moments teachers live for, and I'm happy to have been given a small taste.
After working out the word "do", he exclaimed, "Hey! Now I know how to spell doodoo!"
"That's super!" I told him. "Now when you get home you can tell your mom when she asks you what you learned at school today that you learned how to spell doodoo!"
"My mom lives far away," he told me matter-of-factly.
"Oh, ok. Well you can tell your dad then."
"Um, my dad sleeps a lot...[insert sound of my heart breaking]...but I'll tell my grandma."
Sweet boy - can't I just take him home with me?? Why do there have to be so many darned laws?
A page or so later he was working out the word "sleep".
"sl...sl....slut?" he guessed.
"Uh....no....see there's no uh sound or t sound. See, say it with me, sl...eeee....p."
"Oh! Sleep!"
"Yes! And just so you know, 'slut' isn't actually a very nice word. It's a mean thing to call another person." and you'll probably never come across it in first grade unless in the form of graffiti.
He read for about 5 more minutes until the time was up. Then he looked at me very open and honestly. "I didn't know 'slut' was a bad word," he explained.
I think I made it to my car before I got a little teary. Why, again, can't I just keep him?
Friday, November 30, 2012
I wish I had a picture of the experience, but a thousand words will have to suffice.
Todd and I met my brother, Steven and his wife, Meg, for dinner last night while they were in town. We drove around for quite a while looking for a restaurant we all agreed on.
Three of us wanted to go to Nearly Normals, but Todd was stubborn for a couple of reasons. First, ever since we were first married, he got it mixed up with a lingerie shop, and while it does sound like a great name for a sleazy establishment of that sort, he needs to be reminded that while you can technically wear a veggie burrito, it's not usually considered sexy. Second, when he is reminded that it is a vegetarian restaurant, he's certain he won't find anything he would want to eat. Also, I think he fears going to a vegetarian restaurant will make him either gay or liberal.
So after about 45 minutes of driving around aimlessly, we finally agreed on a Latin American restaurant. We're all very narrow-mindedly thinking standard Mexican food, and are surprised at the upscale, gourmet atmosphere. But we're hungry and not up for any more restaurant hunting.
After being seated (and feeling a tad under-dressed), we take a look at the menu. Steve, Meg and I are intrigued by the not-so-run-of-the-mill fare. Todd is just trying to find something he considers edible. The three of us enjoy our appetizers: Oxtail croquettas for Meg, Bacon, apple and hazelnut guacamole for me, and the Sopa Especial for Steven. ("What's the 'Sopa Especial'?" "It's the Soup Special." "Ummmm, that sounds good. I'll have that.") Finding nothing he considered edible on the appetizer menu, Todd stole a few of my chips, lamented that the bacon was mixed into my guacamole, and waited with stomach growling.
As a main course, I opted for the Ensalada Hacienda, a safe choice, I thought, with no weird meat. Meg ordered the Black Bean and Wild Mushroom Enchiladas, and Steven ordered Duck Verde Tacos. Todd ordered the Beef Tenderloin Pinchos, described as "Grilled beef tenderloin skewers, roasted red pepper gastrique, chimichurri, sautéed greens" Now, I think the waiter could've made a suggestion at this point that would've been helpful. Drawing on obvious clues, I think he could've seen that the large man in the party with the stomach growling, who didn't order an appetizer, might be hungry for a real man-sized meal. Perhaps he should've suggested an alternative, even at the risk of being rude and presumptuous. Nothing in that description prepared us for the bite-sized portion he received, which was something like this:
No, not quite that generous. Think smaller. A couple of 4" strips of beef on oversized toothpicks. He actually looked under the few greens on the plate for the rest of it.
So the rest of the night we were laughing about the incongruity of a big, hungry, steak and potatoes kind of man hunched over a delicate plate of miniature portions. If the waiter asked about dessert, he was prepared to answer sarcastically, "I'm stuffed. I just couldn't eat another bite (I've already had two!)"
That was a memorable dining experience, and I can't help laughing every time I picture it in my mind!
On the comment card under "Would you recommend us to others?" he wrote, "Yes, to midgets."
He stopped by Arby's on the way home.
Todd and I met my brother, Steven and his wife, Meg, for dinner last night while they were in town. We drove around for quite a while looking for a restaurant we all agreed on.
Three of us wanted to go to Nearly Normals, but Todd was stubborn for a couple of reasons. First, ever since we were first married, he got it mixed up with a lingerie shop, and while it does sound like a great name for a sleazy establishment of that sort, he needs to be reminded that while you can technically wear a veggie burrito, it's not usually considered sexy. Second, when he is reminded that it is a vegetarian restaurant, he's certain he won't find anything he would want to eat. Also, I think he fears going to a vegetarian restaurant will make him either gay or liberal.
So after about 45 minutes of driving around aimlessly, we finally agreed on a Latin American restaurant. We're all very narrow-mindedly thinking standard Mexican food, and are surprised at the upscale, gourmet atmosphere. But we're hungry and not up for any more restaurant hunting.
After being seated (and feeling a tad under-dressed), we take a look at the menu. Steve, Meg and I are intrigued by the not-so-run-of-the-mill fare. Todd is just trying to find something he considers edible. The three of us enjoy our appetizers: Oxtail croquettas for Meg, Bacon, apple and hazelnut guacamole for me, and the Sopa Especial for Steven. ("What's the 'Sopa Especial'?" "It's the Soup Special." "Ummmm, that sounds good. I'll have that.") Finding nothing he considered edible on the appetizer menu, Todd stole a few of my chips, lamented that the bacon was mixed into my guacamole, and waited with stomach growling.
As a main course, I opted for the Ensalada Hacienda, a safe choice, I thought, with no weird meat. Meg ordered the Black Bean and Wild Mushroom Enchiladas, and Steven ordered Duck Verde Tacos. Todd ordered the Beef Tenderloin Pinchos, described as "Grilled beef tenderloin skewers, roasted red pepper gastrique, chimichurri, sautéed greens" Now, I think the waiter could've made a suggestion at this point that would've been helpful. Drawing on obvious clues, I think he could've seen that the large man in the party with the stomach growling, who didn't order an appetizer, might be hungry for a real man-sized meal. Perhaps he should've suggested an alternative, even at the risk of being rude and presumptuous. Nothing in that description prepared us for the bite-sized portion he received, which was something like this:
So the rest of the night we were laughing about the incongruity of a big, hungry, steak and potatoes kind of man hunched over a delicate plate of miniature portions. If the waiter asked about dessert, he was prepared to answer sarcastically, "I'm stuffed. I just couldn't eat another bite (I've already had two!)"
That was a memorable dining experience, and I can't help laughing every time I picture it in my mind!
On the comment card under "Would you recommend us to others?" he wrote, "Yes, to midgets."
He stopped by Arby's on the way home.
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