Category: Grandparents


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Dear Bro and Co.,

Apparently Tammy and Kristian’s scholastic and academic accomplishments have inspired Mathias to finish his school work early (Congratulations to both of you!) We love you and are proud and happy for you both.)  He is doing roughly one week’s worth of school each day, and doing a right good job too.  Amanda and I have ben pleasantly surprised and impressed by this new surge of self-motivation.  In fact, now that we know he can do it, we are going to hold him to it.  The hardest thing about homeschooling isn’t getting them to learn the material, it’s keeping them focused and motivated to do the work….

Mathias is super smart and when he is in the zone, it seems he can do anything – quadruple stupor decker multiplication problems in seconds.  A whole chapter of Science or English in minutes – Amazing!!!

Still more amazing ???  The same kid with the same brain will suddenly get a vacant look in his eyes and suddenly can’t seem to do basic skills.  Suddenly 2+2 is a trick problem.  What happened????

…Speaking of Fugue, I’ve been giving it some thought lately – Mom has created the ultimate escape clause.  Brilliant!!!  Now if your wife or boss ask you those difficult questions:

  • Where are those reports?
  • Why was this not done?
  • Why did you turn here?  This is the wrong way.
  • What do you mean you dropped the baby???

All you have to say is , “I’m sorry, I must have fugued.”  See, all accountability and culpability are eradicated!!  Of course, it still won’t keep your job or your butt from being eradicated; but in a desperate situation – it’s worth a shot.

…..Speaking of Mom, I dreamt up a little scenario.  In case you’re not familiar with the show “House”, it’s about a doctor who solves seemingly impossible medical cases, has a gimpy leg, and treats everyone like crap including his patients and staff.

…..Speaking of saving thing – Friday we helped Papa Troy carry out and clean the heavy stuff out of Gigi’s burnt trailer.  Had it just been he and I, I think we would have finished in about 4 or 5 hours.  As it was, with the ladies helping, it took closer to 10.  Janie was useless; Amanda worked and did a great job – but both of the were impeding progress with sentimental salvaging.

To be fair, I didn’t grow up with the stuff; and our Mom usually threw stuff away before you could bond with it.  Things mysteriously disappeared all the time.  If Dad didn’t bring home money, he’d have probably “disappeared” a long time ago.  As it is, he’s becoming more sedentary in his old age and I can see Mom eyeballing him – you know how she hated clutter in her house.

…..Speaking of cleaning, Janie got to laughing and making fun of Gigi’s house being dirty.  Wha?!?  That’s like Pigpin calling Linus a slob for dragging his blanket everywhere.  As the Bible says, “Don’t condemn your Brother for the splinter in his eye when you have a beam in your own.”  Or, in this case, don’t make fun of the speck of dust when you’ve got a freakin’ dirt clod of your own.

Not to say Janie is the Devil; but, her adversarial approach in relation to Gigi combined with the soot and resin effect of the smoke got me to thinking about our adversary – Satan.  Not only is his mission to steal, kill, and destroy – He is the Accuser of the Brethren and his home:  a lake of fire.

The soot and resin from the fire at Gigi’s did something interesting – it clung to all the dust and cobwebs in the house which of course made them not only more visible, all the more gnarly looking as well.  It serves as a reminder that it is all the more important to keep our spiritual houses clean as possible lest our Accuser come with smoke and ash to make us feel condemned and unworthy of the peace and joy found in Christ who takes away the sins of man and makes us clean and pure.

All that being said; Dude!  You should have seen those spider webs – black, thick strands of evil netting set up in almost every nook and cranny and blanketing most everything belonging to this old Granny.  Heck, some of them may have been antique.  If you’ve seen the third installment of the Spiderman series, then you know about the Venom (Black Spiderman) character who shoots just such a web as I have described.  Going through the house and moving and cleaning the furniture, I couldn’t help but imagine just such a creature living there.  And if Janie thinks that is all funny, then I think this is even funnier…..

Right after Janie made her comments about how bad Gigi’s house was, I looked over and on Janie’s fireplace, I saw it….. apparently the venom spider had escaped the fire at Gigi’s only to fall prey to one of the Rabid Dust Bunnies at Janie’s house!!  Her fricken’ filth killed the super spider and from the looks of things that Arachnid never stood a chance.  I love irony.  Now that’s what I call Poetic Dustice.

Breaking News!!!!  KeiLynn has broken in her first tooth.  Now I have a little Snaggle-toothed  punim on the loose.  She is growing, changing, and progressing everyday:  sitting up, rolling, inch-worming, independent play and laughter.  She is acquainting herself with all her accessories and resources and making good use of them..

…..especially that new tooth!!  The other night, she had a choke hold on an empty water bottle and was going to town with her new little chomper.  Which gave me a great idea…..

Baby bottle openers!!! – Brilliant!!!!

Amanda posted pictures of the water bottle session on her facebook page.  They’re pretty funny.  If you get a chance, you ought to check them out.

I opened the bag and there it was…a big, red, freaky eyeball gazing up at me.  It was a magazine:  ‘Pigeon Racing Digest’.  I thought, “What a funny joke!!”  It’s no joke.  There were several issues seriously dedicated to the apparent serious sport of Pigeon Racing.  I guess there is a magazine for everything!!  Thankfully, this was not as disturbing as ‘Pig Penthouse’ – a magazine that took admiration of “Pork” to another level.  Joke or not, that was freakin’ weird.  Trust me, there is no good lingerie for pigs.  Have mercy!!!

On the slim chance that I should ever race a pigeon, I think I will name my bird – Flock of Seagulls.  Pigeon Jockeys!!!  Ha!!!

I started guitar lessons last Thursday.  Lesson one – changing strings; two hours – one string.  Granted, there are  30 people in the class, half of which are bored teenage punks (I used to be one – teenager, that is.)  I was quite excited to learn and figure if I get nothing else, this alone will be worth my $20.  -Fast forward to Saturday night; Amanda and the kids are in Oklahoma, this is a great time to use my new knowledge.  Right??  48 hours had passed.  I had slept since then….

…..but I had the jist of it.  Right??  Roughly one hour into this endeavor and I’m praying, “Sweet Jesus, what have I gotten myself into?”….

That guitar was playing me!!!  Actually it wasn’t too bad.  One and a half hours later – all new strings – tuned and ready.  I feel empowered!!  Hoo-rah!

As you will hopefully see, I tried my hand at the “No Mean City” album cover.  Although I always try to replicate the original as best as possible, I usually end up putting my own touches in here and there.  I’ve had a hankering for some steak – so it seemed appropriate.

…..Speaking of eating things up – our Rainbow seems to have quite the appetite when it comes to our new carpet.  Even after a half-dozen or so sweeps, the waste receptacle is still full of purple fluff.  Normally, I am able to dump the contents out by the curb;  the purple fluff, however, has required empty butter bowls and such for disposal purposes.  I was a good neighbor up until this last sweep – the fluff wasn’t quite as massive and I had no disposable canisters; the end result…it looks like the Cheshire Cat coughed up a giant hairball at the end of the driveway.  My hope is that this is natural “shedding” of new carpet.  Otherwise, my Cheshire shag is gonna turn into a Mr. Biggleworth…. and my neighbors will hate me.  (I don’t actually care what the neighbors think, but I try to be nice.)

Amanda and I got to go out on an actual date to celebrate our Anniversary (#11).  To my surprise, she wanted to go see the Wolverine movie.  It was a pretty cool flick – nigh indestructible dudes trying to destroy each other – always entertaining.  Of course, it got me to thinking:  instead of Wolverine vs. Sabertooth….

     …..Someone’s gonna bite the Dust!!!

     I dare say everyone enjoys living in a clean house; yet so many people don’t.  I guess most people don’t enjoy exercising the restraint and executing the efforts it takes to maintain a clean house.  Although ours is generally clean, it certainly isn’t perfect.  Hard to do with five people, one of which is a whirling, toy dispensing dust bin (Kiara of course).

     I bring this up because of the verse in scripture that calls us to not only love God, but to love His law. (Psalm 1:2)

     I hadn’t ever really thought about it – do I love God’s law?

     I certainly try to obey and follow His law – with varying degrees of success depending upon the Commandment and time and circumstance.  Same thing with man’s laws – the law of the land if you will:  I obey these laws because I don’t want a ticket or jail time.  But do I love the law?  Some yes, and some of the time.

  1. Do not steal. Great law!!!
  2. Do not assault your neighbor.  Great law…till my neighbor royally pisses me off.  (Sometimes, I wish I could punch people without risk of jail time.)
  3. Speed limit.  I don’t really love 55 mph that much.  75 mph is much hotter with a great personality – but she gets me in trouble.

So I love the law when it benefits me and serves my purposes.  Of course, God knows how we are and in His wisdom carved His commandments on tablets of stone instead of:

  1. Playing cards
  2. Chalk boards
  3. Paper

     Tablets of stone – permanent, as long as the guy chosen as the Deliverer doesn’t smash ’em.  I can certainly understand Moses’ anger – if I had gone through all that and come down the mountain to see the Israelites misbehaving, I’d have wanted to smash something too….

    ..but God was none too pleased about that broken tablet.  Thankfully , God had it backed up on his hard drive….Ha!!!

     I can just imagine  the Good Lord teasing Moses a little – after He cooled off that is.

     To be fair to Moses, the poor dude asked God to choose someone else.  He just wanted to forget Egypt and herd his sheep on his own land.  The guy went through a lot, and did a right good job considering (I think God only wanted to kill him once).  Much love and respect to Moses.

     All that being said, do we love the law?  For that matter, why should we LOVE it?  It comes to this, God is the Law and He is Grace; if we love Him, then we should love His Law and His Grace equally.  He is the lover of our souls and we as His Church are His bride.  Think back to when you first married, you were so head over heels that you overlooked, in fact embraced your wife’s habits, quirks, and rules (laws) – like, “Don’t use that hand towel, it’s a decorative towel only!” Wha??  That doesn’t make any sense to a manly grey matter brain, only a pretty pink, girly brain; but because we’re stupid in love and twitterpatin’, we not only do it; we do it with a smile because, “I love her!  I love everything about her!!!”

     But, alas, no man and no woman is perfect and soon enough you get mad at her, wait till she leaves the room and then proceed to cuss under your breath and wipe your grubby hands all over that stupid decorative hand towel.

     Our God, however, is perfect.  Not only should we love Him; we should love “everything” about Him, even His Law.  After all, when we love to do something, it’s all the easier and better to do it.  I’m head over heels and I’m trying to keep my house clean – even the decorative hand towels.  🙂

Dear Bro. and Co.,

Today I am writing to tell you the story of Sgt. Stubbs or just “Stubbs” as I like to call him.  “Who the heck is Stubbs?” you ask. – He is KeiLynn’s high chair.  How did he get the name of Sgt. Stubbs?  – We’ll get to that soon enough.  First, let’s start at the beginning.

As you know, KeiLynn is getting bigger and has begun eating solid foods:  baby food prunes, yogurt, mashed potatoes, lasagna, T-Bone steaks (bones included).  As her diet and appetite expanded, so did her reach, making it nigh impossible to try to eat and hold her at the same time.

Believe me, I held out as long as I could.  That’s how it usually is with such things.  I ask the tough, important questions:

  1. Do we really need a high chair?
  2. How long will we actually use it?
  3. How much space will it take up and where are we supposed to put it?
  4. Why can’t we just use zip ties?
  5. Does the baby really have to eat? – It only leads to more poop!

The combination of us being poor and me being “frugal”, O.K. – cheap (a direct result of being poor); led us to the second-hand store.  Over the years, this particular stores prices have sky-rocketed to astronomically ridiculous stupidity for their “gently abused” hand-me-downs and pass alongs.  No need in all of us getting out.  I sent Amanda in alone – confident that her mission to find a decent, non-crap crusted high chair for $20 or less was doomed to fail.  As she disappeared behind the forest of custom overpriced hair bows and ribbons and bleach and acid restored junk, I smiled and eased my seat back with confident satisfaction that my bank account would go unmolested this day. 🙂

Amanda had been in there a good while – never a good sign.  I began to squirm in my chair: an ever-increasing sense of doom began to loom.  Sure enough, she came frolicking out beaming and glowing in girlish retail ecstasy….. “Oh, crap!!!”  She had found a really “cute” one for $40 and another one for $20.  She sent me in to check them out and to hopefully check-out with baby throne in hand.  I stepped out and began the long walk……the Green Mile: the walk that leads to the total and complete annihilation of the small bit of cash still in checking soon to be executed for the crime of heinously having not yet been spent.

I trudged in and all the lady associates looked up and grinned eyeing me like a sick gazelle fallen behind its family – they knew why I was there.  The sound of cha-ching and the smell of wallet carcass filled the air.  I made my way to the back of the store and sure enough there they were, side-by-side like some odd couple in the middle of the floor.  It didn’t matter what she said or what she did – my brick wall determination was impervious and impenetrable.  No feminine wiles would work this day – I wasn’t going to pay more than 20 bucks for a blasted high chair!!!  I looked them over, thoroughly hoping for any excuse, any flaw or safety glitch to get me out of buying the thing.  Much to my chagrin, they were both solid.  “Crap!” Then to choose:  the girly pretty one had all the bells and whistles and seemed to smile and flirt saying, “Buy me, Big Boy!”  – Such flattery will get you nowhere with this grinch.  The other was plain, but adequate, and the price was right.  But he seemed sullen and angry; as though he were saying, “If you separate me from my woman, you’ll regret it for the rest of your days!” Of course, it’s just a baby chair:

Funny vibes aside – the price was right.  And so began the Dark Odyssey of High Chair Hell Fights – it was on; right from the beginning he proved to be a cantankerous contraption.

At first, Amanda blamed it on me being bitter about parting with 20 bucks.  She totally underestimated the Crankiness of this chair.  Her love of this baby throne would soon turn to loathing; for on the very first evening at home with it, this happened:

And thus it was the first of many stubs in our house.  It seemed no where was safe.  Not even another room.  Nothing and no one was beyond his reach.  The average foot in our house looked like this:

It was soooo bad, I went to Subway and ordered a Footlong.  When I got home and opened it, my sandwich had turned into a wrap!!!  What the….

Messing with my sandwich?  That was the final straw!!!  I snapped…..

They say some people go Ape; I honestly don’t know what I was…. other than mad and set on making this son-of-a-lazy boy pay for his trespasses against humanity and against my sandwich.  I had him bashed and nearly trashed; mashed and quite literally on his last leg when he did something rather remarkable……

Blast!!!!  He was right.  I couldn’t kill him yet.  So here we are with KeiLynn at 9 months and I’m just counting down the days till I can finish what I started.  I know what you are thinking, “Why not wait it out and sell him to get some of my money back?”  I dislike Sgt. Stubbs so much it’s worth it to destroy the evil rather than collect $5.25 for his sorry seat cushion.  Oh yeah, I’m gonna kill him.  And, I hope and pray that when they salvage him from the scrap yard that they melt him down and recycle him; I hope they bring him back as a toddler training toilet.  That, is the fate that he deserves!!!

***Warning, this post is not child friendly.  You may want to preview before allowing your child to read.  Thanks for reading!!

Dear Bro. and Co,

     It has been confirmed and is now official – our father does indeed have a stinky head.  For the last 20 years or so, Mom has constantly griped about Dad having a stinky noggin.  “Mike, don’t touch my pillow!” “Mike, go take a shower!!!”  Now, I may have my eccentricities, but I’m no head sniffer; so not having purposely taken any whiffs of Pop’s melon, I always assumed that Mom’s complaints were merely a figment of one of her many psychosis.  As it turns out, in this one instance, she is not crazy.

     Amanda gave Dad a haircut and apparently that prickly pear was pretty ripe. 

     Of course, Amanda did a good job, Dad would have been happy regardless, though, because it was FREE!  I’ve never seen anyone get quite so happy over getting free stuff – it’s his opiate.  I think a trip through Sam’s is a preview of Paradise to him.  If it’s free, he’ll take it no matter what it is.

     …..Speaking of free, Plaxico Burress may not be much longer.  I’m sure you’ve heard about him shooting himself in the leg at a nightclub.  Apparently, the weapon wasn’t registered – felony charge in NYC.  Nice to know that Jerry Jones isn’t the only owner to sign an idiot to the roster; suddenly NY is looking at Plaxico’s new contract and thinking maybe they made a giant mistake.

     …..Speaking of Giant, I recently read an article about a cock fighting operation that got busted.  What intrigued me the most was the report of all the needles collected at the site.  It seems the birds owner’s were injecting them with steroids.  Ahhhh, the evolution of sport.  As if putting razor blades on their legs wasn’t advantage enough, lets get ’em hyped up on the Juice.  I can’t help but wonder if Foghorn Leghorn hasn’t started shooting up to be better able to beat the crap out of that dog.

     …..Speaking of War, during a recent intimate encounter with my lovely Bride, I had a sound byte moment.  I am by no means a Star Wars nut.  I don’t go to conventions, I don’t go around quoting the movie.  Heck, I don’t even own any of the movies.  But for some reason, I had a Star Wars sound byte moment during Sex.

     I would have to liken females to the Death Star….. You have to last long enough to make it to the target and you must be accurate.  I think every guy likes to make his wife blow up before we do; not only do we aim to please them, but we all want to feel like studly Jedi Masters who know how to properly wield our light sabers.  Of course, where they are Death Stars that take precision and at times endurance to blow up, us guys are like shotty little space cruisers where the slightest of hits can light us up. 

     So here I was trying to blow up her Death Star and of course my space cruiser could go any minute – here came the sound byte….., “Stay on Target.  Stay on target.  Stay on Target!!!!”

     …..I guess I should have used the force.  Thankfully I didn’t die, so maybe I’ll get to shoot at her again tomorrow.

     …..Speaking of stars, I was thinking on the way in to work this morning about the expression bright and early.  I’ve been getting up early for a while now and I can tell you it is never bright.  Mr. Sunshine doesn’t show himself till 6:00 or 7:00 a.m.  So, I’m thinking maybe our sun used to rise earlier, like 3 or 4 a.m.  Scientists say it is a relatively young star…. So here is my theory (it could explain a lot).  Our sun is a teenager going through puberty.  1.  He is obviously sleeping in.  2.  He is moody and temperamental – could explain global warming (he is literally pissed off at the world right now).  3.  Sunspots???? …try star acne.  4. He obviously is listening to Soundgarden’s “Dark Days” instead of Louis Armstrong on his IPOD.  If only he knew how blessed he is….that lucky old sun just rolls around Heaven all day.

      Dear Bro. & Co.,        

     First off , a heart-felt thanks to you and Dave for driving all this way and taking the time and energy to help me with the house remodeling. The house looks great and no one lost any digits – much to be thankful for.

     The city of Arlington recycling  center wanted me to thank you as well. I used to think that “99 bottles of beer” was just an annoying song – last week kinda gave it new meaning. Cool.

     As you know,  you were not our only visitors. Good ol’ Dad braved the winds of adversity :

and his own apparent ice thin insecurities :

to make it here. How did he overcome such seemingly insurmountable obstacles you ask………………..

     …………Apparently those super hero underpants that he likes to wear as his actual shorts actually make him feel like Superman.

     I guess no one has worked up the nerve to tell him how unnerving it is for him to parade around with a big super ‘S’ on his crotch.

     ……. Speaking of  being unnerved, no one knows how to get Mathias worked up and bent out of shape quite like Kiara. She recently learned the expression about girls being sugar and spice and everything nice, and boys being made of snails and puppy dog tails. Of course Mathias took such a suggestion very seriously and as soon as Kiara (made of everything nice) saw the open wound she did not hesitate – she went for the kill!

     Mathias, being the intellectual sort, decided to go to a higher authority to do some research…….

     He even cross referenced by looking in Kiara’s princess Bible just to make sure dust wasn’t translated as “snails and dog tails” in a girl’s Bible.

     ……….Speaking of Kiara, that monster moth that you caught her turned out to be a Walnut Sphinx Moth. Perhaps appropriately named as it looks like a creature that could be living in a mummy”s tomb.

     Having two daughters of my own, I could appreciate Dave’s techniques for intimidating those pursuing one’s “little girl.” I even took notes:

               1. Display arsenal of weapons.

                2. Skin and clean animals.

                3. Wipe out entire lineage.

                4. “Don’t mind going back to prison!” 

     Good stuff! But where I was inspired, Dad apparently was terrified. Later that evening he pulled Amanda and me aside and asked, “How much do we know about this David fella? I found his comments at the dinner table to be quite disturbing.” —–Amanda and I laughed, ” Granted; they are not empty threats, however, they are exaggerated a bit to scare the crap out of horny teenage boys and goofy old men.”

                              Dad: “Did he or did he not say that he had been to prison?”

                              Us: “No, Dad. You can’t be in the Air Force if you’ve got a record.”

    He was in  rare form, and Amanda caught the brunt of it. First was the headwipe incident. Dad insisted that she smell it; and then IT happened……….he began moaning and grunting while rubbing that blasted wipe on his head.

     Amanda said it was the single most creepy and hilarious moment of her life. We figure Dad must have gotten more action from that head wipe than he had gotten from Mom in the last 20 years!

     Dad kept insisting that he was going to mow my lawn. The whole reason he brought me his mower is because he supposedly can’t cut his own grass anymore. Why would I let him cut mine? Of course I refused. Two days later I asked him if he wanted to go play frisbee with the kids…….. his response, “I can’t go out in the sun.” So apparently, the same guy who wanted to cut the grass at high noon can’t go out at dusk to throw a frisbee with his grandkids because of the sun. Hmmmmmm…….sometimes all you can do is laugh. 🙂

     Dad kept bugging me and Amanda about airing up the tires on our van. In fact, on his second outing with Amanda he insisted that she pull into a gas station. She told him that she didn’t have any cash and he said it was so important that he would pay. When they pulled up to the air machine it read: 75 cents. Dad exclaimed, “That’s outrageous!!! I’m not paying 75 cents for air. Drive on!!!”  ——Wha?!!!!

     I don’t know if its Mom or the Sleep Gremlin but somebody is finally cracking the poor guy’s egg. He has always been eccentric, now he is downright kooky. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. I even think he is cool; he is just cool in a very kooky kind of way.

     Since your departure I have spent roughly 7 hours mudding – most of which has been on a ladder. Needless to say,  I’ve just about had my fill of mudding and sanding dry wall; however, it does bring back a sense of nostalgia : to a time when I was a young artisan trying to leave my mark on the world – or at least the living room wall. Not quite two , I was dabbling with mud of a different kind and my name and fame were spreading rapidly – I was known as : Poo-caso. Most of my work was abstract therefore my genius was not appreciated nor understood. Some of my critics went so far as to say my work stunk really bad. What do they know?

     Love, and God Bless,

     Uncle Buck “Wango”Lamb and the Tango Tribe

Just a little side note;  Please remember that these stories are exaggerations and satirical in nature.  Keeping that in mind, enjoy!!

Dear Bro and Co.,

     As you know, we just got our cool, groovy new Purple Haze Carpet.  (Cue in Hendrix, please.)  It’s seemingly opened up a whole new world for the kids – especially Kiara and her Spider Man hopper-ball; she is as ruthless as she is fearless. 

     Mathias has always been quick and at times relentless when given opportunities to agitate his sister; and Kiara has never hesitated to retaliate.  Mathias knows better than to strike or physically harm her and Kiara seems to have a growing awareness; and she is taking full advantage – her counter strikes are nothing short of brutal….

     How did that verse go again? – The wages of sin are death, and the wages of picking on your little sister are getting you butt kicked!! 

     We’ve let it go for a while hoping Mathias would learn his lesson; unfortunately, there seems to be a natural law in place:  going against his usual disposition (a really cool, nice kid) and against his good sense and better judgement, he is compelled by nature and instinct to rattle her cage time and time again despite his knowledge of the impending throttling that is sure to come.  Also, we have to intervene now to teach Kiara not to arbitrarily use violence to resolve conflict – not only is she good at it, she seems to enjoy handing out beat-downs a little too much now. 

     Where do such sorry behaviors come from?  I believe mostly from instinct – due to our fallen, fleshly natures – but, of course, some of it is learned; and where are such behaviors learned?  I, as the most obvious choice as suspect and sorry role model, would like to pass the buck and blame it on……

     …..the Grandpa and Grandma Mafia!!!

     They were in rare form right from the start.  “Yeah, yeah, good to see you too.  Now be quiet and stay out of the way you little punks and no one will get hurt!”

     Mom and Dad were tired from travelling and of each other; the kids were hyped up from having new carpet and seeing the dog again – it made fo a rough mix.

     I guess that’s what you do with your good foot after 60.  Exaggerated?  – yes, but not by much.

     We’ve never watched the “Kill Bill” movies – not really our type of show; but when Mathias put in his “School House Rocks ” DVD, I thought we were for sure going to see “Kill Bill Vol. 3″…..Yeah, we turned that off real quick.  Have Mercy!!!!!

    

This last week, we discovered that if I blow on the back of KeiLynn’s head, she makes this crazy little smile face.  It’s pretty funny.  Thankfully, through all the chaos of moving furniture, having carpet put down, and a flock of grandparents, she has remained calm and pleasant – the coolest and best of babies.  If I were to start a band right now, I would name it “Punim Head” in her honor.

Day 2 – Battle of the Papa’s

     Troy was in a competition – he just didn’t know it.  It was a lot like that movie “Meet the Fockers” – Dad had the anything you can do, I can do better vibe going on.  And, it all started around lunch time….

     Troy was going to eat the last leftover Braum’s burger; Dad beat him to it.  Then when Dad heard that Amanda was making Troy a wrap – he changed his order, “I’ll have what he’s having.”  After Amanda had gotten everyone else’s food she was finally able to eat her own lunch; as she started out of the kitchen, there sat Dad like a helpless, demanding baby bird chirping, “Where’s my other wrap?  I want another wrap!”

     Apparently, they were good size wraps.  Mom tried scolding Dad, but this time, he fought back.  I don’t know if it was him refusing to be emasculated in front of others; or if being deprived of decent food for so long had made him deranged and crazy – he fought for it, and he got his second wrap.  Troy only ate one. 

     Dad went on to eat more pizza than Troy at the party.  Heck, I think he may have eaten more than the rest of us combined.

Eating:  Papa Mike 🙂  Papa Troy 😦

     Troy had to sit out the Wii competition due to a bum knee.  Dad didn’t brave the Hot Wheels game – it can be a bit intimidating; but he jumped at the opportunity to bowl.  With each strike and spare, our old man danced a jig, gyrating back and forth right in front of Troy who cringed in abject horror.  Zelda, Amanda’s grandma, told Dad that a swing like his should be hanging from a tree.

Wii:  Papa Mike 🙂  Papa Troy 😦

     Although Janie certainly does have her moments, there really was no contest here:

Angriest, Naggiest Wife:  Papa Mike 🙂  Papa Troy 😦

     Dad Celebrated his victory later that evening with a bowl of ice cream and a couple of hours of T-time:  time with the toilet wishing he hadn’t eaten so darn much.

     Mathias seemed to genuinely enjoy his day;  the pizza, the cake, the Wii tournament, and his new presents:  an orange bean bag, “Bedtime Stories” DVD, the Human Torch Transformer, and some new clothes.  He’s a pretty easy-going kid that kinda reminds me of Cal off the movie “Waitress”.

When a lady asks Cal if he is happy, he responds: “Happy enough.  I don’t expect much.  Don’t give much.  Don’t get much.  But, I genuinely enjoy what comes my way.  That’s my truth, summed up for your feminine judgement.”

Mother’s Day

     Mom, unlike Mathias, seems never to be happy.  I wish she were, that she could be, pray that she will be.  I believe Jesus forgives all sins, heals all wounds, and cures all diseases and ailments; but, with mom it seems that there is no fix for crankiness. 

     That being said, we love her and are certainly glad to have her as our mom.  She is a blessing; but as has been said, “Sometimes it’s better to love her from a distance.”

Love and God Bless, Uncle Buck “Wango” Lamb and the Tango Tribe

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