My Father AKA Superman

My Papa has a problem.  He thinks he's superman.  No matter how old I get, he's constantly trying to fly to my rescue, fixing this, buying me that.  (This is not a complaint!)  I think I know why...I'm encouraging the problem.  This Father's Day, I was about to dash out of the driveway with my babies, but my car wouldn't start.  My hubby was out of town, so I did what any rational Polish girl would do...call her Papa.  He was there, of course, and had lots to say about the car.  Even though the stroke of repairing genius came from my Mom, somehow he managed to get the credit for it.  Maybe because it was Father's Day, maybe because we all feel sorry for him because he looks so weird from chemo treatments...no couldn't be that...he looked weird before chemo.  I think it's because he often is the superhero in my life.  Some things never change.  My Dad will always lose his glasses, he'll always scare the person sitting by him at dinner with his wild hand movements, he'll always have a hankering for disgusting onion sandwiches, he'll always drive away with his coffee cup on top of his car...and he'll always be superman.  As part of their driver's education, I'm going to teach my daughters how to dial his phone number.

Words of Wisdom From a Favorite Prez...



photo courtesy of Wikipedia


"One way to make sure crime doesn't pay would be to let the government run it."

--Ronald Reagan

Ever read his autobiography?  It's great.  It's fun and interesting, and brings tears to my hubby's eyes.

Word of the Week, Spanish edition

Translating can be a tricky business.  There are so many cultural idioms that we as Americans just don't get, so when the words are translated, they make no sense.  Some do strike a chord more than others, though.  My incredibly smart, almost Dr.,  Spanish teacher brother told me this interesting translation. 

Do you know what the Spanish word for 'handcuffs' is?

It is esposas.

Do you know what else esposas means?  Wives.  Yup.  Apparently in the Spanish speaking world, getting married to a woman is the symbolic equivolent to handcuffing yourself.  I'm sure no man in our culture would think that way... especially not my hubby....right?

No sentences this week...too busy eating el chocolate.

Ellen Bartelle, Woman of Mystery, Part 2

It was a dark and stormy morning.  Ellen quickly closed her pink lip print umbrella and placed it in the rack in front of the school.  She walked through the tiled hallway, her shoes squeaking with each step.  So much for creeping through.  As she passed each classroom, some junior high student or other looked up at her.  She took the stairs up three full flights to the school storage area.  She had discovered this nook during her high school years.  She would occasionally sneak off to read Nancy Drew novels instead of attending Geometry class.  Rounding the corner, she neared the banged up lockers.  She ran her hand over each locker as she passed, just as she used to do in high school, listening to the ping as she passed from one door to the next.  Aah, number 231, her last locker number.  She spun out the combination and opened the door, reaching a hand up to the shelf.  Ellen smiled; the mayor had brought her supplies and initial payment.  She closed the locker door with a clang and squeaked her way back down the stairs.  She tried to imagine the billious mayor hiking the three flights up here with the $100, Godiva bar, and Fit for Life admittance badge.  Did he come himself or send some poorly paid government lackey to make the trek?

Ellen was leaving the junior high wing, nearing the front door when she glanced toward the school offices.  Sensing the presence of someone, she paused and glanced toward the vice principal's office.  There he was...just as she always remembered him from junior high days gone by.  He was tall, with curly dark hair that spilled a little down his forehead despite efforts to tame it.  Their eyes locked for a moment; her hand instinctively touched her fanny pack.  She could feel the color coming to her face and she looked down in embarrasment.  He spoke quickly to his secretary, then began walking toward her with purpose.  She began her escape, squeaking out the heavy school doors.  She immediately located and grabbed her umbrella...this was why it always paid to have a unique pattern.  She fled, without opening it and the vice principal stood at the doors watching her run through the rain, fanny pack bouncing with each stride.

More Chocolate...

I found this yesterday and I thought it was true-to-life enough to post...

Have a decadent weekend!

To my other true love...

(It seems that some of my blogging friends have needed this lately...me too, come to think of it!)

CHOCOLATE
CHOCOLATE
                                i
love
                                you so
                                i
want
         to
marry
         you
         and
live
         forever
                                  in the
                                  flavor
of your
brown

--Arnold Adoff

No, I didn't mess up typing.  It's actually written in this strange e.e.cummings-esque jumble.  Doesn't it make you feel smart to read it, though?  Hungry, too, .

Victorian Ladies

Don't you think Victorian pictures really celebrate womanhood?  I have tricked my mind into thinking that my world really looks like this.  Look at that lovely gate!  I want to put one of those in my garden some year or other.  Then my yard will look like this.

Me at my blogging efforts.  Serene as always (cough, sniff, sigh).

Me on Sundays.

And of course my three angelic babies, who smile like this all day long...

                                             
                                               Scott's hair isn't really that long, though.

Then there is what I look like in the late afternoons after a vigorous round of weeding my lovely garden. 

All my efforts haven't been in vain.  My house is now fit for Queen Victoria herself.

****Editor's Note:  This was a minorly sarcastic post.  I may save the real pictures of me doing these activities for posting around Halloween, so brace yourself.