All things family-related. My husband and me, the children we made, the grandbebes that thrill us now. Our whole great big, loud, messy family. Love! *sigh…
It is quite the spread! Dave did an interview last week with Blade feature-writer, Christine Hollister, and said they visited extensively about our kids and family, but still, the article is quite a surprise. Especially the fact that the reporter actually read several of my blog posts and QUOTED me – yes from this very blog you are reading! Ha! I am smiling a little! Very fun day!
sneak peek on the front page and an up-close mentioning this blog, o yea!
More performances of Annie this weekend: Friday night, Saturday matinee and Saturday night. $7 at the door. You can find out all the details at www.prairieplayhouse.com
page 4 and the finish on page 16
The article is just so nice and depicts Dave and all of us, really, in such a flattering light. They even mentioned the “Heavenfest concerts.” {smile} We are so honored.
Even the dog gets a write-up and a WHOLE PAGE – wow!
The Martin Luther quote? Yikes. This could not be worse news.
Hair cut this week. Actually left the shop pretty OK with it. Unusual… Ready to color, early before meetings. Reeeeeally didn’t feel like going to Sally’s to buy the dye. Look under the sink and find a red I hadn’t used in some time. What a happy surprise. I don’t even remember having this! L’Oreal’s Mega-Reds, Intense Copper Red. It is almost, but not quite full.
Bingo! There’s enough. I’ll use it. No muss, no fuss.
While mixing with the developer, it seems odd. But I proceed. I plaster, cover, go about my business.
Time to rinse. The water runs off looking reddish enough, but not all that intense. I pay no attention. I wrap my head in a towel and gather things I’ll need for the office.
Time to blow dry. Hmmm…does look intense, after all…dark. I am humming, not bothering to look into a mirror as I dry, until the end. Suddenly, my very own Brady-bunch-type-hair-dye-crazy-disaster-sit-com-moment.
What the…?? It is reddish brown in spots, grayish brown in others, dark brown in some and almost black in parts. It is NOT. what. I. was. expecting. Not at all.
Should have looked like this, all over:
Instead:
It really is worse than you can tell here. Hard-to-believe, but true.
As I shrieked, “What on earth?!?” Guini assurred me: “It’s OK, Nonna. It’s gonna be alright.” And it will…unless I am seen in broad daylight. In a dark room, sure. Fine.
Dave says he likes it, shrugs it off and tells me this is what happens with so many daughters running a hair chemistry lab around here all the time (and they all claim total innocence and say it was probably expired and my own fault).
{sigh} I will have to find a way to fix it so all of my “richest ornament” does not fall out. Or I can become very nocturnal.
The scraggly family mutt who was abandoned at the landfill years ago to run wild and fear her own shadow, the trembling pile of fur we drug home, intent on saving whether she wanted us or not, and named “Sandy” after the dog from the Broadway play and the 1982 movie, “Annie,” has come full circle.
Yes. Sandy-the-Dog played Sandy-the-Dog in Prairie Playhouse’s production of “Annie,” at tonight’s OPENING NIGHT!!! What frolic or mayhem could have occurred did not. Though I feared the worst, Sandy’s performance was flawless. She did it! She stayed close to “Annie,” she obeyed the commands to “sit” and “stay” until beckoned by Annie. Sandy was amazing.
Dave was, too! It is a GREAT show!
I wonder if my two stage stars will be hard to live with now?
Sometimes I sit in the cafe at church and spread my work out around me while I enjoy a crystal-clear view of snow-capped mountains in the offing. Then I wonder: who the heck are all these people traipsing through my office?
Good news, though:
The Heaven Fest office, thanks to Tara’s vision and hard work, can hardly be called “The Bat Cave” anymore. We said Let there be light and Tara is lighting the stuffing out of that room. It is quite hip and nice actually!
Thanks, Tara-roo! I love you!
Pictured: Looking west from Colorado Blvd. and Highway 7: My view through the big “garage” doors from the cafe.
Sandy-the-family-dog will soon make her stage debut as Sandy-the-Mutt (her actual namesake) in the local stage production of Annie (while Dave plays Daddy Warbucks).
We rescued Sandy years ago from the landfill where she’d been abandoned and was running wild eating trash and afraid of her own shadow, yet, she has never quit looking like a junkyard dog. Even our love could not transform her into a beautiful show dog. And though I fully believed a good grooming would be necessary for her to be a star: NO! We are to leave her in this sad, overgrown condition for her role onstage. She is untrained and undisciplined.
You can’t take her on a walk without getting your shoulder pulled out of socket.
She insists on laying right on your feet and constantly touching you, staring at you and basically loving the stuffing out of you.
She gets throroughly head-over-heels excited when you come in the door.
When you are eating anything, even though she is never allowed people food, Sandy sits very closely and tries to disguise the fact that she is lusting after your food. But she isn’t allowed to beg. So she sits there, acting all nonchalent and doesn’t actually look at you (because she knows that will get her in trouble), but she moves her eyes one way and then the next and then tilts her head so she can clearly watch you eating from the corner of her eye. “Look away,” we tell her and she does, but then…yes, there it is: the corner of the eye thing again. She is fooling no one. I am amused by her persistance for lo these many years. Hope must rise eternal in her heart that we will just one day give her all of our food.
She rolls around on the floor like a maniac when being petted.
If you give her a dryer sheet, she rubs her body all over it, because smelling fresh is her one true desire, though smelling fresh is pretty much impossible for Sandy. She hates baths and thinks she is being punished and after years of hearing b-a-t-h spelled out, she is not fooled by our code.
She lives for love and lives to love. The slightest kindness or gentle word from me and Sandy thumps a Morse-Code message of affection back to me with her ample tail.
Devotion.
Sandy and Dave have gotten closer during this shared theatrical experience, but she is my dog until Stormie shows up. We were very close, mutt and me, during the Taiwan trip, but the minute Stormie was back on US soil, I was cast aside. However, if Rocky is anywhere in a 2 mile radius-her heart belongs to him and him alone. Period. He knows her and understands her more than anyone else. And she pays him back with a fierce covenant commitment and over-the-top adoration. They are “a boy and his dog.” But Stephanie originally brought Sandy into the family, so she owns a part of Sandy, too.
She is a sweet dog. She hates cats and is terrified of birds, but otherwise does not like conflict. She loves people, seems to believe the best of everyone, and melts at a kind word and a pat on the head. That is really all takes to be loved by Sandy forever. She doesn’t really enjoy playing horsie with the grandkids, but is gentle and longsuffering with them anyway.
Sandy is a Phlegmatic-Sanguine. She loves people and she loves peacefulness and having everybody just get along. Just like my mom. No wonder I adore her: the dog, I mean, but my mom, too. Yes. They are both lovely and loveable. And they are very close friends, as well. They may even favor one another a little.
My mom and Sandy-the-Dog are probably my two most reliable and exuberant cheerleaders in life, my most trusted allies. Aren’t they adorable?
Tristan made a video for Stephanie’s birthday a couple of years ago, a re-enactment of a scene from “The Office,” where Jim is “conducting an experiement” in controlling Dwight. Gavin was “Jim” and Guini was “Dwight.” The only problem was that Dwight is an annoying jerk and Guini kept being so sweetly polite (like her Nonna).
Sometime after 11 pm last night, the views on this video went over 20,000! Isn’t that cool? My little grandbebes have brought joy to many Office viewers! If you watch it, go RATE it (no less than 5 stars, s’il te plait!).
You may as well enjoy the video my kids made me for Mother’s Day that year, too. It is my favorite Partridge family song ever.
“I’M BORED,” {says a person in a room with you, thereby implying some one nearby has somehow neglected to fulfill their every need and tend to their every whim – and it is probably you!}.
You’re bored? REALLY?
You’re world-weary? Blasé? Uninterested/disinterested? Jaded? Fed up? You’re ennuied? Stupified? Listless? So what you’re saying is you’re unfocused? Unmotivated and dull? Flagged, disconnected and inattentive? So, you’re telling me you’re just spiritless and worn thin? You’re just so turned off? Just not having any fun? At all?
AND HOW IS THAT MY PROBLEM???
Life is rich. Life is full. There are books to read. Movies to see. Songs to sing. Friendships to discover. Problems to solve. Challenges to overcome. There are things that you could write about-things you and only you see. There is advice to share, coffee to drink, people to visit, places to go and paths to explore. There is love to give (and there are people who need it so much) and even silence enjoy. Shhhh….silence is OK. Quiet is sweet. I mean really: do you already know everything there is to know? Have you actually achieved everything there is on the earth? If you’re in a transient state of pervasive lack of interest…Die already, then.
SOAPBOX
When you say you are bored, you are holding other people responsible for your happiness. When you say it, I am thinking {imagine the way Stormie would say this}: YOU are a bore!
Don’t drain me. Don’t hold me responsible for you not having any interests in anything besides your well-being. That is surely the most boring place in the universe to be ~ within the circle of your self-centeredness. No wonder.
The Rhoades Home: I NEVER let my kids throw the boredom card on the table. Because I always had a suggestion: Wanna vacuum??
This is why my kids are so interesting and amazing (if I do say so, myself). They are focused, enthusiastic and full of life. They try new things, have gone further than I ever will and have endless spirit and connectedness to people, life, experience and achievement. They are world-savvy, resourceful and have deep wells of ability. In courageousness and bravery, I have much to learn. Their world is huge, but they shine like stars in the universe. Blessed and loving, gifted and giving, they run circles around me and I love it. And I am taking a little credit because being bored with their circumstances wasn’t an option (and because I did endure pregnancy and childbirth with each one-that counts for something!). And they have learned to live the abundant life.
Climbing off my soapbox now.
Dang. I am a judgmental bore, aren’t I?
UPDATE: After 17 emails, a couple of phone calls and my own daughters gasping, please know, friends/family/people I love-this isn’t about any of you. I promise.
But he was for the Colts. So, come on ~ I HAD to do this to him.
And apparently Wrex had been saying how he thought he looked a lot like Peyton Manning all evening when I, totally unaware of this little tidbit, made the remark that Drew Brees was so much cuter than Peyton Manning. I DIDN’T KNOW!! Naturally, we ALL think Wrex is amazingly handsome and wonderful. I am sorry, Wrexster. Really really sorry. Pleeeeeeease forgive me??? (Not so sorry I didn’t make him pose for this picture, though…hehehehe…)
Who Dat? And all that~
I must admit I called my brother Joe when it looked like the Colts could do no wrong and had been leading for too long and I rambled on about him dragging me into this stressful, crazy, game and making me cheer for a team who was going to lose. Minutes later, things turned around and he called me telling me to stop the whining.
The kids played games and kept the noise at fever pitch. Gemma danced for halftime, which was way better than The Who. Seriously.
Stormie, it turns out, is deeply competitive and was really mean to people NOT rooting for the Saints. This was her {haughty} victory face.
The Dodge commercial was hilarious. All the females oohed and aawed over the Google commercial. It was interesting to note how many men in only their underwear we saw. Is this really what men like to watch during football? Doritos had some pretty fun ones (part of a contest they sponsored) and the Right-to-life/Focus-on-the-Family one was really well done, I thought: not preachy or offensive, but pretty cool, actually.
But hey, did you hear? THE SAINTS WON the Super Bowl!
Happy Birthday, sweet girl and totally terrific two-year-old toddler. Oh what a hilarious joy you are! Such a typical firstborn, ready to order your world, so prepared to be in charge of your new little sibling so soon. You have that head full of big, beautiful hair and are head strong and know how things should be. You have mastered the choleric-sanguine personality in your cheeky 34″ frame (with your 50 centimeter head circumference – though we suspect the doctor did not account for all the hair, or the unusually active, large and amazing brain-which runs in the family, ahem…).
Our current favorite activity, mine and Averi’s, is to watch babies laughing on Youtube together. Averi calls the shots. We have no more than laughed our heads off on one video when she has chosen her next choice from the suggested videos on the right column.
Averi: Nonna! I want that one! Do that one!
Me (seizing the opportunity for affection): Ok. You want that one? Gimme a kiss!
Averi: Ok. {smooch}
Then we watch the one she wanted. And we repeat the process. Over and over. Good times. She is my girl until Poppa walks in the door. Then I cease to exist, but it is good while it lasts!
Girl, you are princess-pink-and-polka-dots, rough-and-tumble-funny-girl and everything in between. I love you bunches!
