Friday, May 20, 2016
Monday, May 16, 2016
Your Matty-ism of the Day
We went to Dodgers Stadium for Little League day, where the kids got to walk on the field. This marks the second time the kids have been on a major league field in their first ten years. Not bad.
We went with Oliver's family, and sat with the moms on one side, approximately a dozen kids in the middle, and the dads on the other side. I think we lost proper communication across the kid chasm, so at some point, all bets were off, and the kids each had two Dodger dogs, ice cream, a churro, and cotton candy. Danny also had a nacho helmet (yes, a plastic helmet that is big enough to fit on your head, filled with meat and cheese nachos). As I write all of that down, it's just plain disgusting. Well, they had a ball.
But all of that sugar did its thing, and in the car, waiting in the endless traffic line to get out of Dodgers Stadium, the boys were out of their mind. I always compare hysterical silliness levels to my brother John in Rome having had 2 liters of Coke served to him small glass after small glass by a well-meaning old Italian lady. If John in Rome is a 10, they were at a 9+.
It started with a sort of gross elementary school thing I remember doing, where you hold out your hands with your fingers laced together towards the other person, and say, "Open the diaper." The other person "opens" the diaper, and the original jokester flips hands around, finger wiggling, and says "Peeeee!!!"
Pretty harmless, and not really funny, but the kids were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. It escalated, as you can imagine, to all sorts of things NSFB (not safe for blog). But at the height of the insanity, Matty comes right out with the following:
Matty, holding his hands together, in no discernible shape or form: "Open the bwa."
[hysterical, shrieking laughter]
Me: "Open the what?"
Matt: "The BWA."
[hysterical, shrieking laughter]
Since resistance is futile, I "open" the "bwa" by touching his hands.
Matt, hardly able to talk with laughter: "Out comes the BOOMIES!"
Matt: "THE BOOMIES ARE INSIDE THE BWA!"
At this point, Danny starts laughing so hard it's almost performance art.
Matty then, before we can catch our breath, says: "Now open the boomies!"
The boomies are opened.
Matt: "Out comes the stuff that makes girls magical!"
Well, there you have it. Your Matty-ism of the Day.
We went with Oliver's family, and sat with the moms on one side, approximately a dozen kids in the middle, and the dads on the other side. I think we lost proper communication across the kid chasm, so at some point, all bets were off, and the kids each had two Dodger dogs, ice cream, a churro, and cotton candy. Danny also had a nacho helmet (yes, a plastic helmet that is big enough to fit on your head, filled with meat and cheese nachos). As I write all of that down, it's just plain disgusting. Well, they had a ball.
But all of that sugar did its thing, and in the car, waiting in the endless traffic line to get out of Dodgers Stadium, the boys were out of their mind. I always compare hysterical silliness levels to my brother John in Rome having had 2 liters of Coke served to him small glass after small glass by a well-meaning old Italian lady. If John in Rome is a 10, they were at a 9+.
It started with a sort of gross elementary school thing I remember doing, where you hold out your hands with your fingers laced together towards the other person, and say, "Open the diaper." The other person "opens" the diaper, and the original jokester flips hands around, finger wiggling, and says "Peeeee!!!"
Pretty harmless, and not really funny, but the kids were laughing so hard they couldn't breathe. It escalated, as you can imagine, to all sorts of things NSFB (not safe for blog). But at the height of the insanity, Matty comes right out with the following:
Matty, holding his hands together, in no discernible shape or form: "Open the bwa."
[hysterical, shrieking laughter]
Me: "Open the what?"
Matt: "The BWA."
[hysterical, shrieking laughter]
Since resistance is futile, I "open" the "bwa" by touching his hands.
Matt, hardly able to talk with laughter: "Out comes the BOOMIES!"
Matt: "THE BOOMIES ARE INSIDE THE BWA!"
At this point, Danny starts laughing so hard it's almost performance art.
Matty then, before we can catch our breath, says: "Now open the boomies!"
The boomies are opened.
Matt: "Out comes the stuff that makes girls magical!"
Well, there you have it. Your Matty-ism of the Day.
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Your Inaugural Danny-ism of the Day
We are sitting here, listening to the election results come in for Indiana, and eating pierogis and glazed carrots.
Danny, holding a toasty pierogi aloft: "Are these Polish?"
Me: "Yes, actually."
Danny: "I knew it. They smell like Pops."
Danny, holding a toasty pierogi aloft: "Are these Polish?"
Me: "Yes, actually."
Danny: "I knew it. They smell like Pops."
Sunday, May 1, 2016
Guess Who We Found?
It's been a while. A quick recap to explain a bit of what you're seeing:
Danny broke his wrist in the trampoline, cast comes off in a week and a half. He also dyed his hair red with my help. Green is next.
We lost both cats within 48 hours, and within a week of Danny's 8th birthday last weekend. Then we found Rey.
Danny broke his wrist in the trampoline, cast comes off in a week and a half. He also dyed his hair red with my help. Green is next.
We lost both cats within 48 hours, and within a week of Danny's 8th birthday last weekend. Then we found Rey.
The Inaugural "Your Matty-ism of the Day" Post
After three years of angst over using water in our desperately thirsty situation here in California, I've decided I need to plant my garden again, drought be damned. I got some heirloom seeds from my friend Jess for my 40th birthday, and have managed to get most of them started.
So far we have beans, peas, a few varieties of tomatoes, and something that may be cucumber or zucchini. Beets are still too little to transplant, and broccoli is coming soon.
I also chucked a few pumpkins into the garden last year, while still in my state of despair, and now have a mini pumpkin patch.
All of this is next to my little monarch garden, which just hatched a few babies on the milkweed plants.
Point is: I'm happy.
So I come in after being outside for a while, thinking it's been awfully quiet inside. I actually opened the mail slot to see if I could hear Mario Brothers playing.
Deathly quiet.
I try to open the door; locked. I knock. Nothing.
I knock louder. Danny comes to the door, I walk in.
Sitting on the couch, face covered in chocolate, is Matty, who has helped himself to a KIND bar. (Now please keep in mind, I asked him multiple times what he wanted for breakfast, to which he answered, "NUFFING.")
We lock eyes, his mouth mid-bite, he's busted.
His eyes light up, his brain engages, "click." Hoisting it high, huge smile spreading over his face, he exclaims -
"It's ORGANTIC!" (sic)
So far we have beans, peas, a few varieties of tomatoes, and something that may be cucumber or zucchini. Beets are still too little to transplant, and broccoli is coming soon.
I also chucked a few pumpkins into the garden last year, while still in my state of despair, and now have a mini pumpkin patch.
All of this is next to my little monarch garden, which just hatched a few babies on the milkweed plants.
Point is: I'm happy.
So I come in after being outside for a while, thinking it's been awfully quiet inside. I actually opened the mail slot to see if I could hear Mario Brothers playing.
Deathly quiet.
I try to open the door; locked. I knock. Nothing.
I knock louder. Danny comes to the door, I walk in.
Sitting on the couch, face covered in chocolate, is Matty, who has helped himself to a KIND bar. (Now please keep in mind, I asked him multiple times what he wanted for breakfast, to which he answered, "NUFFING.")
We lock eyes, his mouth mid-bite, he's busted.
His eyes light up, his brain engages, "click." Hoisting it high, huge smile spreading over his face, he exclaims -
"It's ORGANTIC!" (sic)
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