“Nailed It!”

“Let’s watch ‘Nailed It!’” declared my second grade niece as we scoured Netflix before clicking on the fun reality baking show. Contestants made things like pancakes in the shapes of a cheeseburger & a slice of pizza.

 Not long after, I joined her older brother at the computer where we began competing in a game. “Strategic Tic Tac Toe” it was called. My nephew was X’s which meant I was O’s. Now, “Extremely & Impressively Intelligent” would be an applicable phrase to describe the fourth grade brainiac.

The bright boy continually leaves us flabbergasted with his beyond clever interpretation of guidelines & his school performance. Therefore, I was just as surprised as he was when it turns out I nailed it by winning one more online tic tac toe game than him.

Certain the boy was way too smart to be broken by the defeat, my suspicions were Completely Confirmed by his response to my mention of winning.

I luckily had a front row seat to hear the little guy’s words, but most of all to witness the scrunching of his face into an impish little grin as he delivered them:

“I’d rather not talk about it.”


By Aunt Amy


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My nephew & me a decade ago in his pre-braniac days


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Fun. That would be the primary adjective I’d apply to describe the relationship between my Mom & me, her third of three daughters.

Gee I’m glad my Mom & I can laugh at each other’s confessions, mistakes, faults, harsh comments, anything & everything, really, stuff others listening would no doubt deem outrageous & insensitive. That’s okay because outsiders aren’t expected to understand our unique brand of humor. Due to extraordinary circumstances –

& by “extraordinary” I am implying NOT a definition like “magnificent” but rather an “extraordinary” synonym more like “uncommon” or very “unique”

as a nearly mid-thirties (Yikes!) adult affected wholly by unthinkable circumstances far beyond my control, my parents & I share an address. It works for us & not just because it must. All things work together for good for those who love the Lord, right?

What went down Thursday when I had the address all to myself was this:

 ♠ 1. Upon entering my room to eat a tasty quinoa vegetable salad I’d brought with me, a delicious dish prepared the day prior by my Mom ***who has repeatedly previously urged me not to eat in my bedroom in case of a gigantic mess just like the impending one but begrudgingly accepts the fact that I do***, I accidentally spilled a whole bunch atop my white bedspread.

  ♠ 2. I quickly scooped a few handfuls back into the plastic orange bowl before using 2 rags & then 2 cleaning wipes to clean up the spill.

 ♠ 3. Deciding it was too gross to put all my pillows & cozy fleece over the tainted area, I chose to throw the enormous stained blanket into the washing machine on a cold cycle.

♠ 4. I thanked my lucky stars for my solitude and for the fact that I’d avoid others’, at that particular time anyway, (possible) unwanted remarks or chastising.

 ♠ 5. Unsure of how to handle breaking the news of the sizable mess in her home to my Mom, I chose to eventually inform her later that afternoon at my sister’s house, a place where she’d surely receive the news well in the midst of her sweet young – & most importantly, listening to her every word – grandchildren.

Back at home later, while graciously spreading the newly cleaned comforter across my bed as well as tucking it tightly under my mattress for me (which my loving Mom always does on my behalf due to my injured joints making me performing the task an unrealistic nightmare), I divulged even more details of the disastrous food-spilling episode, I’m talkin’, the nitty gritty:

⊕ How I’d thought seriously about NOT EVER TELLING HER about the massive mishap in the first place;

⊕ How I’d planned to take my sheets & blankets off my bed myself before she washed them again in two weeks’ time, so she’d never get a chance to see up close that my comforter was laying on my bed in a lousy not-even-CLOSE-to-as-neat-as-her manner after I’d secretly washed it; &

⊕ How, in my continued efforts to keep completely hidden my supremely sloppy calamity, I’d even gone so far as to write a reminder to myself on my calendar to ensure that I was the one who’d strip my bed instead of her before my sheets were washed the next time around.

Phew! I sure felt better after getting that off my chest. Truth be told, I was kinda looking for a pat on the back for my admittance. I mean, I didn’t have to tell my Mom everything that had gone wrong in her absence in the house she owned. I really thought I was deserving of some credit. One would be right to say I had another think comin’.

“Ya know what I just heard?” my Mom retorted after I’d just poured my heart out. Spilled my guts. Laid it all on the table.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!”


The End

By Amy, 10-25-18

“Let it bee, yeah, let it bee”

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Q: What did one hair say to another strand of hair?

A: It takes 2 to tangle!

Such was the scene at my house Saturday afternoon. My Mom had just returned home with her eldest granddaughter after the two pals picked up some books at the local library. One page-turner focused on fun experiments so they selected one right away & boiled water; the next step was to place candy corn in a container of the boiled water, as well as in a different container of warm water, to observe how the candy reacted. (The candy corn coating came off in the boiling water dish.)

The 3 of us – my lovely 8-year-old niece, her beloved Grandma & I – were then sitting around the kitchen table sharing jokes from another just-bought book. The game that my niece invented on the spot was, of the two listeners of the joke, whoever laughs first loses. We passed around the joke book to whoever guessed the punch line correctly first, that is, if we even did answer the Q & A humor right in the first place.

In honor of the Michigan football game that day at noon televised on Fox, my niece donned a stylish U of M outfit of their school colors. In fact, when a Fed Ex delivery man arrived & asked which team we were rooting for, my Mom answered by calling the head-to-toe maize & blue girl to the front door to see the answer for himself.

Subsequent to our joke contest, the thick as thieves pair went on to compete in the card game “Old Maid” on the large family room rug . . .  but not until my Mom & I were both hopelessly stumped by the one final joke delivered by my niece, where of course the right reply made perfect sense once revealed, but that’s just hindsight bias talking:

Q: Why did the bee itch?

Drum roll, please:

A: It was covered in hives.


The End

By Aunt Amy


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Heard of God? Word of God:

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Colossians 3:12-17

12 Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. 13 Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. 14 And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

15 Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful. 16 Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts. 17 And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.



 “Read em’ & weep.”

“I can’t afford the tears.”

My Dad & I were playing yet another card tournament as we got along splendidly Monday evening while joking & discarding in our traditional method: a haphazard messy pile on the kitchen table because landing the cards perfectly on top of one another just doesn’t matter. We genuinely enjoy the other’s company at regular times like these.

He’d just won our second game before going on to win the third. Best 2/3 is our style. However, before the card tournament had even begun, I was attempting to clear my nose by applying a “Breathe Right” strip from CVS over the middle area. My Dad had walked in my bedroom’s open door not a minute later to invite me to start our customary routine.

Not a night person, highly preferring earlier times in the day, my intelligence tends to do the opposite of peak at evening hours – Read on for evidence supporting why I’m clearly not a creature of the night:

Upon his inviting me to start playing, & also knowing full well he wouldn’t mind my altered appearance as a specially tailored for sensitive skin white strip was hanging right out in the open over my highly congested schnoz, I still couldn’t help but ask what turned out to be my OOOOOPS!-out-of-order question:

“Even this with on my nose?”


The End of Part 1


Notice the awful pictures at the very bottom that my kind Father took (unbeknownst to him, photos I asked him to take for the sake of this story that I decided had to be written following my ridiculous above word flub). The shots are ALL NO GOOD. Bad angle, bad expressions, bad timing, the works. But then again, in all silliness, he gave an honest yet decades-old excuse for the flawed photos he snapped.

“I’m not used to working on that side. I used to be a model.” Dad the Model

The End . . . Of My Dad’s Modeling Career ;/


By #3 on 10-22-18 way past my “bedtime”


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