Audit

I know a family who have eleven kids. Two of the kids are out of the house and one is in college. Their youngest is just over a year old. Granted, in today’s culture, having eleven kids makes most folks eye’s bug out and…federal agencies…

Today, the husband had to take the day off from work because the IRS was auditing him. The reason? One person could not have THAT many children to claim as a deduction. He had to bring birth certificates and other documents as proof.

What a waste of taxpayer money, a loss to the employer in missed work and one less holiday/personal day for the husband. Have other people experienced this? I don’t think Tim Geithner had to…

Action, Not Words

On Sunday, Hubby and I attended a cookout at his Uncle Blair’s house. (He’s really Hubby’s Mom’s uncle but everyone just calls him Uncle Blair.) His home is a converted boathouse situated along the edge of the Charles River. Do you know where Route 128 and Mass Pike converge and the Marriott Hotel oversees the whole highway madness? The house is not far from there. Standing on the river bank I saw ducks, geese, blue herrons and one water snake. Route 128 is bearly visible through the foliage. The dull roar of speeding automobiles sounds blessedly like wind. Being a holiday weekend, dozens of canoes, kayaks and party boats made their way up and down the serene waters.

Though the whole scene was bucolic, it paled in comparison to something else I witnessed. Uncle Blair is 92 and recently survived a stay in the hospital. I won’t go into the details but for a man who went through what he did, at his age, he looked great. His body may be slow, but Uncle Blair’s mind is as fast as ever. When asked how’s he feeling, he replies,

“With my hands.”

His siblings have passed except for his beloved spouse. Her health isn’t as robust as Uncle Blair’s and her mind wanders. Yet Uncle Blair is always at her side. I watched a man tenderly feed his wife and sit with her in the shade all the while surrounded by children, grandchildren and great grandchildren. When we were ready to leave, Hubby went inside the boathouse to say goodbye. He found Uncle Blair asleep on his recliner, a vintage Bruins game flickering on the t.v. Next to Uncle Blair was his wife, also sound asleep. Tim didn’t want to wake him, but noticed when he was leaving the living room Uncle Blair open his eyes, look at his wife, and fall back to sleep.

Something Fierce

My mother has an aunt, though she’s not really an aunt. She is related but not in an “aunt” sort of way. Know what I mean? This “aunt” is 101 years old and since the “aunt” hit 95, my mother has attended the “aunt’s” birthday parties which are held at her church and usually there’s a barbershop quartet.

All that is besides the point. (I just think it’s neat that a barbershop quartet performs at the parties.) Anyway, I once asked my mom if the “aunt” was ever married.

“Oh sure…twice.”

“Does she have kids?”

“No. She once told me that she would never be any ‘man’s incubator’.”

I thought, “Is she fiercely independent or fiercely self-centered?” What do you think?

USA #1

Last week I ran into a cousin who I haven’t seen in a few years. He’s a lovely man with a heart of gold who works as a DJ at a strip club. I may not agree with his place of employment but I’ll never forget what he did in the early ’90’s.

Cousin was in the National Guard who served in the first Gulf War. After his return from the Middle East, my cousin was full of patriotic vigor. Around this time, my Cousin, Augusta Bro and a friend decided to drive to Montreal for the weekend (a very do-able 6 hour drive from southeastern Massachusetts). My cousin helpfully volunteered to drive. I remember he drove up my parent’s driveway to pick up Augusta Bro. I don’t remember the car exactly…some Detroit boat of a car. But I do remember that my cousin had written in white house paint on the hood and sides of the car,

I laughed my a$$ off picturing the looks on the Quebecois as this example of exuberant American patriotism passed by.

Veggie Feast

I’m one of those “sorta” vegetarians. I can not do without a veggie omelette and salmon steak but I eschew dairy. (Makes me gassy.) About every four or five years I hold a Veggie Feast where I invite friends and family to my place where I cook a ton of vegetarian dishes. My last one was in New Bedford, MA (2004) and it had a brunch theme. Because this year I have a patio with a grill, the theme was a no-brainer, COOK-OUT!

Nine folks trekked all the way out to Leominster, MA for an afternoon of eats and conversation. The menu was:

Appetizers: Spinach-Artichoke Hummus, Avocado Salsa, Lentil-Bulgar Stuffed Grape Leaves

Main Course: Grilled Veggie Kabobs (in a homemade marinade), Spaghetti Salad, Sweet Potato Salad

Dessert: Fruit Tart, Oreo Truffles, Soy ice cream (the only store bought dish)  

I must admit it was hard work. I cooked most of the dishes the day before and was cooking about an hour before the first guests arrived but it was all worth it. Every dish came out spectacular (if I do say so myself) and each lady (it was a ladies-only event) went home with copies of all the recipes enclosed in a Night Garden Photography greeting card.

Where was Hubby? He worked that day and then headed over to his folks where his Dad grilled steak. They celebrated an anti-Veggie Feast.

I suppose the next Feast will be in 2013.

Easter Scene

Since 1990? (1991?) I’ve been having Easter dinner at a friend’s house. It all started in college when a floor mate invited me to her Mom’s for Easter. Now her sister has taken over the tradition and, like a bad penny, I keep turning up every year.

Her sister has ELEVEN kids (not a typo). Three are out of the house, so there were EIGHT kids (ages 15 to 7 months) romping around (plus two other families attended with four between the two). The sister and family are devout evangelicals and are all home schooled. The kids get along with each other and are very helpful to the parents.

But only in an evangelical home on Easter would you see two boys, ages 7 and 9 (approx) tumbling on the floor in the hallway. The older one has the younger one pinned and he says,

“And they call you the King of the Jews? CRUCIFY YOU!”

The younger one is rolling around, squealing, “No!”

They’re both laughing and having a grand old time.

Dispatch from Maine I: Ask Permission

This weekend I had a jolly time in Vacationland. I did so much that I’ll be splitting my posts about the trip. This first post is about an event that happened one hour after I arrived at Augusta Bro’s home.

Brother received a phone call from a next door neighbor. The conversation went like this:

“I just saw three kids jump your fence. They’re in your backyard.”

“Good. I’ll release the dogs.” (BTW: The dogs are all bark and no bite.)

“No. Don’t do that. They’re young. Like 8.”

“I want to scare them.”

Brother heads to the sizable backyard which is enclosed by a metal linked fence meant to keep the dogs from running all over the neighborhood. Brother spots the trespassers. They are about 8 years old (two boys, one girl) and have chosen the highest point in the whole yard to escape. The boys have made it over but the girl is still climbing.

At this point the “vicious” dogs have are barking at the girl and she is frozen at the top of the fence (which is chest high for you and me). Acting tough, brother says,

“You know you’re not supposed to be here. The fence is to protect you from the dogs.”

“I know that now….Can you help me?”

At that moment Brother realizes that the girl (who needs to climb more fences in her life, if you know what I mean) doesn’t have the strength to pull herself over. Her two buddies are standing in the middle of the street.

Just watching.

Not doing a bloody thing.

Brother is able to move her carcass over the fence and the three delinquents return to their journey. Lesson learned.

Happy April’s Fools Day!!!

I have no tricks for you. Promise!

Wasn’t yesterday such a gorgeous day? Hubby and I swept our suburban oasis and dumped the stray leaves into the swamp land next door to the condo. Not only are we planning many grillicous meals in the coming weeks but I’m hoping to grow some basil and thyme in a planter box that Hubby will attach to the patio wall. Whoo!!!

After all that sweeping and planning, we sat back and enjoyed a bottle of Madeira; our first bottle of the season. And it all went right to my head. Whoo!!!

To balance out the mellow, we got Chinese take-out from Chopsticks, our local asian eatery. Hubby gets General Gao’s chicken and veggie lo-mein and I must have crab rangoon (no cream cheese…no cream cheese…I tell myself over and over…) and bean curd, homestyle, no meat. Whoo!!

The delightful day ended with a Bruins victory over Tampa Bay. Whoo!!

In two days I’ll be motoring to Maine to celebrate Augusta Bro’s B-Day. Whoo!!

And that ain’t no April’s Fool joke.

Gee, Thanks

From Wizbang:

President Obama, in his taping with Jay Leno Thursday afternoon, attempted to yuk it up with the funnyman, and ended up insulting the disabled. [...]

Towards the end of his approximately 40-minute appearance, the president talked about how he’s gotten better at bowling and has been practicing in the White House bowling alley.

He bowled a 129, the president said.

“That’s very good, Mr. President,” Leno said sarcastically.

It’s “like the Special Olympics or something,” the president said. [My emphasis]

My Brother-In-Law, who competed in Special Olympics, thanks you, Mr. President, for your sensitivity.

Compare those words to that “idiot” Sarah Palin:

Sometimes even the greatest joys bring challenge.
And children with special needs inspire a special love.

To the families of special-needs children all across this country, I have a message: For years, you sought to make America a more welcoming place for your sons and daughters.

I pledge to you that if we are elected, you will have a friend and advocate in the White House.

RNC VP Speech, September 2008

Young Hubby

Mother-In-Law smuggled another picture of Hubby to me and I was able to scan it before he confiscated the damaging evidence of his, YES, mullet. Behold:

Hubby with Mullet.

While gazing upon this flash from the past, the picture reminded me of someone else…

Uncle Rico!!!