Better Than a Bouquet of Flowers

Wanna see something sexy?

I mean something that gets you really turned on?

Brace yourself….

….

….hope you can handle this…

….

Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!

 

It's the suds, I'm telling' ya!

 

The cleaning of the truck was followed by the cleaning of the inside of the truck, which was followed by an impromptu driving lesson for First Born Son. This was not discussed with me, nor was it endorsed by me. My truck is a standard so The Big Guy thought it would be good practice for FBS.

I refrained from expressing my displeasure because I no longer clean the outside of the truck with my dress pants and don’t have to crawl over gravel once I get in.

Still…totally sexy….

What I Did for March Break, by Sarah

Spring Break used to be a joke – there was nothing “spring” about it. But in recent memory, I honestly cannot remember having any amount of snow – certainly not enough for the kids to enjoy. Usually I’m scrubbing floors from all the mud being tracked in.

Traditionally, I try to take a couple of days off with the boys to do some fun stuff. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be this year as I not only worked, but had extra shifts to cover.

SOOOOOO, we ended up settling for a day off as a family. And what did we do?

We had family portraits taken.

*crickets*

YES, I’m a photographer. But let me explain something here. I am rarely in photos. Because of this, we received a gift certificate for a sitting fee, and I must say, I was thrilled. Now, some might suggest that we should have had a friend or family member help out. Been there….

Done that…..

 

Really, what’s the BEST part of this photo – the fly? The fact that it’s off-centre? Or my cheesy expression??

I firmly believe that having a skilled professional behind the camera makes or breaks a portrait. A good photographer can engage the subjects, enhance a mood and create a memory.

A good photographer can also reign my husband in. GAWD!

If a presence behind the camera wasn’t necessary, the profession would have died out after the advent of the timer.

We had a blast with the couple we worked with. They made the session exactly what I was hoping for – a family memory. It’s what I strive for when I work with clients and I’m very excited – the creativity they brought to our session inspired us, and I can’t wait to see the proofs!

The last time we had photos taken, we  were at Little Sister’s wedding, and while they were well done, I don’t usually trot around in a bridesmaid dress. Aside from that, the boys are at really neat stages of their lives and I felt strongly about capturing this moment in time.

The weather was perfect; we had a blast, and afterward, we went to the movies.

One of the best gifts would could ever have given each other!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letters That Need to be Written – Part II

Dear Joseph Cordes,

I’m sure you are hiding out following the embarrassment you have heaped upon yourself, your daughter, your family and your community at large.

You should.

Perhaps you have no grasp of what you did, and attempted to do, and refuse to hold yourself in any other regard than a passionate parent.

But as the mother of a goalie, I cannot imagine anything lower than aiming a laser pointer in the eyes of someone playing this position. Aside from the stigma most goalies wrestle with regarding their role in “losing” games, there is the simple fact that the goalie is the only person facing the rush of on-coming players. They have to handle frozen rubber pucks being fired at them at tremendous speeds. They have to be flexible to shut down rebounds; employ cat-like reflexes; possess the ability to see through well-meaning defenseman; be the fastest skaters on the team. Goalies need the mental strength to pick themselves up when five other players on the team make mistakes without consequence, but the third rebound on him/her gets posted on the score board.

Now they have to be able to deal with distractions from the stands from asses like you. Massachusetts must be so proud.

Hockey has a dark enough reputation; what with the legacy of debilitating concussions, gratuitous violence, sexual deviance and questionable team spirit. Did you really have to go and make hockey parents look like half-wits?

I hope you realize the message you are sending your daughter is that A) cheating is completely acceptable; B) adults don’t have to act any better than punk juvenile delinquents; and C) you didn’t have faith in her team to win without your intervention.

It’s like the Perfect Storm for Least Sportsmanlike Conduct.

You are damn lucky that your antics didn’t result in injury. The vision in a goalie helmet is limited at the best of times, and now you want to fry the player’s retinas??? What if she’d lost focus on a rush and ended up with a broken neck, slit throat, snapped collar-bone? Would that be worth it for a championship?

In the end, your team won 3-1. I’m sure the embarrassment of your actions has tempered any sense of accomplishment your team could have enjoyed. Your daughter will likely have to bear the burden of your deeds. I’m sure she would have preferred you to simply cheer for her from the stands.

I hope the competing team is successful in its appeal of this game. It takes very little to change the momentum of a game, and this low-brow discovery was made when the game was tied 1-1 in the third period. How shaken was the goalie following your ejection? How much focus was lost by the team as they realized they were competing against parents as well?

I also hope the authorities are successful in filing Breach of Peace charges against you.

It’s too bad there wasn’t legislation against being a Jackass.

Emphatically,

Sarah

The Bubba Guy

The Big Guy has left me.

He says he’ll be back in two days.

Damn training.

What a perfect time to share a Big Guy story! That’ll teach em….

When I met The Big Guy he was 6’2+ and about 175 lbs. Pretty lean. By the time we got married, he was 185 lbs. Still very trim. I won’t tell you how much I weighed when we got married, but suffice it to say, I exploded after the birth of two kids. I never had to diet before, so being in my mid 20s and learning how to control my diet was a big deal. His weight never changed, which was frustrating as I tackled losing baby weight times two.

The Big Guy was very supportive. NOT. It wasn’t that he didn’t want me to lose weight, he just didn’t understand the concept. Because I didn’t feel I should deprive the household, I would still bake and have treats in the house. I just wouldn’t have any. And then I’d have to fend off The Big Guy, who would constantly offer to cut me a piece of cake, pie or square and then feign surprise when I stated that I “couldn’t” eat it.

Such support….

He still doesn’t understand why I don’t partake in dessert following each meal and why there are still two unopened boxes of chocolates on the counter from Christmas.

Uh, mainly because I DON’T want to staring down 200 lbs again!!??

So I was less than sympathetic when he came home with news the other day. He’d just come home from a physical with our new doctor, for which he was LONG overdue.

“Did you know they weigh you every time you go in for an appointment?” he asked.

“Yup,” I replied, thinking that I was pretty sure I’d mentioned this to him already.

“Well the nurse told me I was 192.7 lbs!” he exclaimed. “CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT?”

<PAUSE> In fairness, I had noticed The Big Guy was a little Big-ger, but it certainly wasn’t a bad thing. We had argued at Christmas that he was not a Large but an Extra Large, and I was listening when he was telling me that his pants were fitting tighter. His new job has him tied to a desk or his truck most of the time. Then there is the whole age vs. metabolism debate. Did I think it was a problem? Nope. Would I have told him if I thought it was? Jury is still out on that…. <PLAY>

So the weight conversation lasted a while, with The Big Guy fearing this was the top of the slippery slope that sees him ending up as the Human Pear; a tall man with a gut out front and long thin legs. As I choose my words carefully, I offer a couple of suggestions.

“We’ll walk together at least once a week!” I offer.

“Can you believe that? 192.7 LBS!” he replies.

“Maybe you’ll have to start watching what you eat.” I suggest.

“I’ve never been 192.7 lbs in my entire life!” he exclaims.

“You know, we’re talking about seven pounds,” I point out.

“I KNOW! SEVEN POUNDS!” he nearly faints.

I remove myself from the conversation for two reasons. One, because he obviously needs to come to terms with this unmitigated shock he’s just experienced.

And two, because he can’t possible get his head around the fact that what he’s gained is less weight than either of his sons that I gave birth to.

What He Said…

After a particularly exasperating exchange with Second Born Son, I exclaim in frustration,

Me: “LORD help ME!”

SBS: “I think he’s busy with someone else right now!”

TBG

We are watching First Bon Son’s hockey team. He’s the goalie, and it’s been a particularly busy night for him. Second Born Son’s only interest in the game is the fact that his brother is playing. He spends most of the time biting his tongue as we watch FBS stop second and third rebounds while teammates stand back in admiration.

One of mothers on our team is sharing her personal opinion of the official’s call, or rather lack there of. The word she uses rhymes with luck, truck, duck and schmuck.

SBS: Really…was that necessary? (Shakes head in disgust.) ADULTS!

TBG

SBS: “We played The Game of Life at school today. I love that game.”

Me: “Oh ya?”

SBS: “Ya, I saved all this money, because I didn’t get married, didn’t have any kids and I lived in a house trailer.”

Me: “Oh – that sounds kind of lonely.”

SBS: “It was AWESOME! I had the most money!!!”