<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447</id><updated>2011-12-14T21:45:55.232-05:00</updated><category term='Witch of Corbeil'/><category term='Zandra Larson'/><category term='Howard'/><category term='Honoria'/><category term='TTH'/><category term='Mike&apos;s literary pretensions'/><category term='gobsmackery'/><category term='Merrie'/><category term='Luis'/><category term='Dad'/><category term='Sundays'/><category term='Greg Thomas'/><category term='regressing'/><category term='Bloggoversary'/><category term='Aunt Georgia'/><category term='Susan'/><category term='recap'/><category term='Happy New Year'/><category term='Aprilbot'/><category term='Axel'/><category term='Shawna-Marie'/><category term='April who?'/><category term='Eva'/><category term='Liz and alcohol'/><category term='Anthony'/><category term='bwuh?'/><category term='Dawn'/><category term='Dee'/><category term='Jean Baker'/><category term='Gramps'/><category term='Grandma Marian'/><category term='Gerald'/><category term='continuity'/><category term='playing with words'/><category term='trying to be wise'/><category term='pets'/><category term='don&apos;t have sex in my bed'/><category term='Ted'/><category term='stoopidity'/><category term='Robin'/><category term='Duncan'/><category term='personality transplants'/><category term='depressing'/><category term='embarrassing'/><category term='Jesse'/><category term='Tracey Mayes'/><category term='crowded house'/><category term='Iris'/><category term='stupid puns'/><category term='Connie'/><category term='Shannon'/><category term='Thérèse'/><category term='Wilf'/><category term='Anne Nichols'/><category term='Vivian Crane'/><category term='Patterson food obsession'/><category term='Weed'/><category term='Eric'/><category term='Christmas'/><category term='Warren'/><category term='veterinary medicine'/><category term='TRAINS'/><category term='Lovey'/><category term='Da'/><category term='Mike'/><category term='e'/><category term='fashion'/><category term='Mira'/><category term='Candace'/><category term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category term='Uncle Phil'/><category term='insta-family'/><category term='Rudy'/><category term='boring'/><category term='Françoise'/><category term='Becky'/><category term='Mtigwaki'/><category term='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><category term='fire'/><category term='Laura'/><category term='poor priorites'/><category term='Carleen'/><category term='cute firefighter'/><category term='Gary Crane'/><category term='Jeremy'/><category term='Gordo Mayes'/><category term='Liz'/><category term='Portrait'/><category term='Lawrence'/><category term='Paul'/><category term='rescue'/><category term='Easter'/><category term='Aunt Marg'/><category term='Mom'/><title type='text'>April's Real Blog</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1186</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3085231997871147662</id><published>2009-04-17T19:09:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-04-17T19:11:05.092-04:00</updated><title type='text'>If you came by for foob snark...</title><content type='html'>This page is no longer being updated; however, you can get more foob-related snark from me over at &lt;a href="http://allfoobedup.blogspot.com/"&gt;FOOBAR&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3085231997871147662?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3085231997871147662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3085231997871147662' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3085231997871147662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3085231997871147662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2009/04/if-you-came-by-for-foob-snark.html' title='If you came by for foob snark...'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-6106116876961567363</id><published>2008-08-31T08:03:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-12-20T11:19:50.057-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Witch of Corbeil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Glimpse in2 our future?</title><content type='html'>There was sumthing super-weird that happened @ the reception 8 days ago.  It was so bizarre, I've kind of blocked it outta my mind until just now!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;@ the head table, Liz and Anthony were standing up, kinda huddling 2gether, looking @ Weed, who was crouching on the floor just in front of the table and taking a pic of Francie and Merrie holding hands while Shawna-Marie gave a toast just beyond them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Meanwhile, a bunch of us were standing, kinda lined up and facing the head table.  Lawrence (looking kinda purple) was standing on the left side.  Gordo was to L's rite, but standing a bit in front.  Then there was Mike, just 2 Lawrence's rite, holding Robin (asleep) and Dee leaning on Mike, like pressing her right cheek 2 his left shoulder while pressing her right hand 2 his back.  Then came me, 2 Mike's rite, and then Dad, w/his rite arm around Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad suddenly asked Mom, "Elly, if we cd go back in time, I mean... If I asked U 2..."  And she interrupted him, saying, "Yes, John ... With all my heart."  And just as she sed that last bit, Antman and Liz did a big, showy smooch @ the head table.  And I was kind of disappointed she hadn't let Dad finish his question.  What if he was planning 2 say, "If I asked U 2 join a commune in Upst8 New York?"  Or sum other thing she didn't assume he was asking.  Oh, well, she's known Dad longer than I have.  I guess she doesn't have 2 let him finish his sentences.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But that's not even where things got weird.  Suddenly, behind the head table, a big projection screen dropped down.  A picture of Mom and Dad, seen from behind standing on some kinda deck and watching sum mountain scenery @ night, w/a crescent moon in the sky, appeared on the screen.  And over the sound system, a voice that was booming and distorted, like the Wizard of Oz, said, "ELLY AND JOHN PATTERSON RETIRED TO TRAVEL, TO READ, TO VOLUNTEER IN THEIR COMMUNITY AND TO HELP RAISE THEIR GRANDCHILDREN!"  I whispered, "Mom, U're already retired."  And the booming voice sed, "NO INTERRUPTIONS FROM MARTIAN TEENAGERS!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, there was an image of Gramps and Iris holding a baby.  And the booming voice went, "GRANDPA JIM LIVED TO WELCOME ANTHONY AND ELIZABETH'S FIRST CHILD [together], JAMES ALLEN.  JIM PASSED AWAY AT THE AGE OF 89, WITH HIS WIFE, IRIS, AT HIS SIDE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, the screen showed Liz and the Antman dancing, she in an orange tank top and purple pants, and him in a yellow t-shirt and purplish-blue pants.  The booming voice went, "ELIZABETH [Liz!] CONTINUES TO WORK AS A TEACHER.  SHE'S DEVOTED TO HER WORK AND TO HER FAMILY, LOVING ANTHONY MORE EACH DAY."  Then, the booming voice said, "THAT'LL SHOW THE HATERS!"  The next image on the screen was Gord looking about 65 and Anthony looking like he does now, w/Anthony holding a newspaper that has a giant headline of "COTTAGES FOR SALE ."  The booming voice went, "ANTHONY MANAGES THE MAYES MOTORS EMPIRE, HAS DRAWN HIS BRIDE INTO BALLROOM DANCING, AND LOOKS FORWARD TO OPENING A SMALL  BED-AND-BREAKFAST."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I kinda had to gasp at the disturbing image of Mike that was projected next.  His lower jaw was distorted, like mayB Dad had just taken out all of his wisdom teeth.  He was pictured sitting at a flatscreen computer monitor, holding up his head w/his right hand, and looking smug.  The booming voice went, "MICHAEL PATTERSON HAD 4 BOOKS IN PRINT BEFORE SIGNING A FILM CONTRACT.  HE CONTINUES TO WORK WITH JOSEF WEEDER AND TO WRITE FROM HOME--WHERE HE SAYS HIS INSPIRATION AND CONFIDENCE LIE."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, there was another disturbing image:  Robin w/his mouth gaping open, muppetlike, his hair flipping up in a little curl on each side of his head, Merrie looking like she'd just gotten fresh collagen in her lips, staring ahead bug-eyed, and Dee w/her eyes squeezed shut apparently laughing at the most hysterical thing she's ever heard.  Booming voice said, "DEANNA WORKED AS A PHARMACIST UNTIL SHE BEGAN A SMALL SEWING SCHOOL.  SHE TAUGHT SON ROBIN HOW TO COOK.  THEIR DAUGHTER MEREDITH WENT INTO DANCE AND THEATER.  THE FAMILY GOES ANNUALLY TO THE MONTREAL 'JUST FOR LAUGHS' FESTIVAL."  I went, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;"Sewing school&lt;/span&gt;?  Why, does she go back in time to 1898?"  The booming voice said, "DON'T MAKE ME HURT YOU, TEENAGER!  SEWING SCHOOL IS PERFECT FOR DEE!  SHE LOVES TO SEW!  SHE LOVES HER SEWING ROOM!  SHE REMADE MARIAN'S DRESS!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided I'd better shut up for the moment, since there was suddenly a pic of me up on the screen, holding a horse by the bridle and kind of snuggling up, w/the right side of my face against the left side of the horse's.  The booming voice told us, "APRIL PATTERSON GRADUATED FROM UNIVERSITY WITH A DEGREE IN VETERINARY MEDICINE.  HER LOVE OF HORSES LED HER TO A JOB IN CALGARY AND AN OPPORTUNITY TO WORK WITH THE CALGARY STAMPEDE.  COUNTRY LIVING AND A COUNTRY BOY KEEP HER 'OUT WEST'!"  I said, "You know, through my veganism and Jivamukti yoga, I've adopted the philosophy that animals are not ours to use.  Even if I were given the opportunity to work with the Calgary Stampede, I think I'd decline."  And the booming voice went, "INGRATE VEGAN FREAK!  WELL, MAYBE YOU'LL BE ABLE TO CHANGE THE SYSTEM FROM WITHIN!"  I said, "Well, I guess I have around eight years or so to figure that all out."  And the booming voice went, "WHATEVER!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, the screen went blank and then just had text projected on it:  "THE EXTENDED FAMILIES, FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCES OF THE PATTERSONS CONTINUE TO LIVE AND GROW, LOVE AND LAUGH AND EXPERIENCE LIFE AS WE DO...  AS IF PART OF A COMPLEX NOVEL, WHOSE PAGES ARE CAREFULLY CRAFTED AND THEN TURNED BY ANOTHER HAND."  Then the screen lifted up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Francie went, "Wait!  That's IT?  What about ME?"  She noticed some rustling behind a curtain on the right side of the reception hall and she ran and pulled it open.  There, we saw the Witch of Corbeil!  She was wearing a purple shirt, her hair had turned brown, and she was sitting at a drafting table!  At first, she spoke into the microphone, so her booming voice was going, "PAY NO ATTENTION TO WOMAN BEHIND THE CURTAIN!  I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL WITCH OF CORBEIL!"  Then as she saw Francie start to tear up a bit, she pushed the mic aside and went, "Aw, heck."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she said, "Thank you-- To my syndicate, publisher, family, staff, readers and friends for encouraging me these past 29 years--as 'For Better or For Worse' grew from simple sketches to an intricate 'saga' involving many characters.  If I could do it all over again... Would I do some things differently? ...I've been given the chance to find out!!  Please join me again on Monday as the story begins again... With new insights and new smiles.  Looking back looks wonderful!"  Then she signed a piece of paper she had on her table and held it up.  The signature was "Lynn Johnston."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How weird is that?  I don't even know what to say.  Well, except thanks 2 all of U who have been checking in on my blog since I started it back in June of 2005.  U've been through my grade-eight grad, my "band" drama, zits, Liz being "come after," meeting Paul, Mike having fights with his neighbours, making fun of them in his column, Mom flapping and honking, Dad playing w/trains, being clueless, Liz throwing away her relationship w/Paul, Mike running back in2 a burning building to save his lappy while leaving Dee to "fend for herself" on the fire escape w/2 scared lil kids, and on and on.  Tomorrow, I think everyone in Mboro will be dwelling on the past--remembered in a diff way from how ppl ever remembered it B4.  And I'll be focusing on my last yr of senior secondary school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I guess I'm kinda saying goodbye to U all.  Keeping this blog has helped me not go too crazy, being surrounded by my crazy fam always treating me like I'm defective (when they're not ignoring me).  I dunno if I might check in here now and then 2 upd8 U on stuff, but my daily updates are def. over.  Big love to all of U!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-6106116876961567363?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6106116876961567363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=6106116876961567363' title='42 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6106116876961567363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6106116876961567363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/glimpse-in2-our-future.html' title='Glimpse in2 our future?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>42</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2141859049057551574</id><published>2008-08-30T08:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-30T09:08:12.729-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trying to be wise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>For Better or For Worse</title><content type='html'>Yet another hospital story.  Don't criticize me 4 that, Mike, U know this stuff is beyond my control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I'm still telling U abt what happened a wk ago, eh? Liz and Anthony had rushed 2 the hospital rite after they finished getting married, once Liz realized Gramps wasn't there and found out from Mom what was up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lizthony and Iris were standing outside of Grandpa Jim's curtained-in area, Ant w/his rite hand on Lizzie's rite shoulder.  Liz sed, "Iris, you've taken such good care of Grandpa Jim.  He's so lucky to have you!"  And Iris went, "We're both lucky, dear."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz was like, "But, so many things he can't do for himself now--and you're with him, looking after him day after day...  It can't be easy!"  And Iris went, "It's not easy.  But we made a commitment--just as you did today--and although it's not easy, this is all part of loving someone--with all your heart...and, with all you have to give!  It's a promise that should last a lifetime.  It defines you a a person and describes your soul.  It's a promise to be there, one for the other, no matter what happens, no matter who falls...  For better or for worse dears...  For better or for worse."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, the weirdest thing happened.  They all looked down--and they saw this scrolling text, like just kind of floating thru the air:  "This concludes my story.... With grateful thanks to everyone who has made this all possible ~Lynn Johnston"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freaky, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2141859049057551574?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2141859049057551574/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2141859049057551574' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2141859049057551574'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2141859049057551574'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/for-better-or-for-worse.html' title='For Better or For Worse'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-600614859588305925</id><published>2008-08-29T07:07:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T07:23:02.852-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobsmackery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trying to be wise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Yet another bedside story 4 U</title><content type='html'>4 sum reason, I have this creepy feeling that after 2morrow, I won't B telling U these stories I've been sharing w/U 4 the past three yrs plus abt a month.  Sumthing's gonna end, and that'll B it.  And if that's true, I'd think I cd @ least get U back 2 the reception in my telling U abt Liz's wedding 6 days ago.  But 4 sum reason, I'm stuck telling U sum more abt Liz being in Grandpa Jim's hospital room.  I have a feeling ppl R gonna show up @ Lilliput's this morning, buy coffee, and tell Mom that this story made them have tears in their eyes, reminds them of sumthing from their family, makes them wish sumthing or other, U know the drill.  And they'll thank Mom a lot, 4 sum reason.  I will hafta make sure I stay away from Lilliput's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, so Liz had sidled up 2 Iris, who was sitting by Grandpa Jim's bedside.  Iris was all, "I watch him sleeping, Elizabeth--and I remember when I had babies.  ..I watched them like this, you know.  I watched them... Like this."  And Liz sed, "Yeah, I caught that the first time U sed it, why'd U hafta say it twice?"  OK, no she didn't.  She went, "I'd like 2 have a baby sumday," as if the idea only just popped in2 her head @ that v. moment.  And Iris told her, "I'm sure U will, dear!  And U will teach yr little one* abt life and all its complexities, challenges, joys and sorrows... there's so much 2 learn."  Then Iris gazed @ Jim all beatifically while laying a hand on his face, saying, "I think I know sumthing abt life, now.  It takes corage 2 live life 2 the full, Elizabeth... And yr grandfather has courage."  And Liz was all, "Yes, he has courage."  Then she placed one hand on Iris's back and told her, "...But, he also has U."  And 4 sum reason, Iris went all gobsmacky.  MayB cuz Gramps had gone in2 silhouette just then, and Iris might have been worried it was like "the silhouette of death."  MayB wherev she comes from, she heard that rite B4 U die, U go in2 silhouette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, I hope I have sumthing different 2 tell U 2morrow.  Sumthing not abt the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Gah!  "Little one."  Don't U hate that expression?  I do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-600614859588305925?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/600614859588305925/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=600614859588305925' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/600614859588305925'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/600614859588305925'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/yet-another-bedside-story-4-u.html' title='Yet another bedside story 4 U'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5139353914976217829</id><published>2008-08-28T06:54:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-28T07:06:58.063-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Endings to stories</title><content type='html'>While Liz was @ the hospital in Grandpa Jim's room (after she and Anthony committed their "hitch and run" Saturday--as Gramps so ritely criminalizes it), Liz went over 2 Iris, all, "How is he, Iris?  Tell me the truth."  And Iris went, "He's not well, dear.  He's v. frail.  He'll B home in a few days, tho... and, then we'll C."  She went 2 one side of the bed, Ant stood @ the other, and Liz stood @ the foot of the bed.  And Iris sed, "Look.  He's gone back 2 sleep.  But... He did C U in 'Marian's' dress--and it meant a lot 2 him."  And Liz patted herself on the back w/"I know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Anthony called Mom.  He sed, "Hello, Elly?  We'd like 2 stay a bit longer @ the hospital w/Iris and Jim.  Pls tell every1 we'll meet them @ the reception."  After Mom hung up w/him, Dad came over, w/Robin pulling @ his rite hand and Francie looking up @ him like she mite B thinking, "My standfather looks a lot like Daddy, and that scares me."  Dad asked Mom, "Who called?"  And Mom sed, "Anthony.  --Everything's fine.  My Dad is going 2 B OK, John.  Everything's going 2 B OK!"  Interesting, eh?  That is NOT what Iris sed in the hospital.  So who was lying?  Anthony, on the phone 2 Mom, or Mom 2 Dad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, Dad sed, "That sounds like a nice way 2 end a story!"  What normal person wd say that in this sitch?  I know, my Dad and "normal" don't even know each other.  And Mom sed, "...It's certainly a nice way 2 end 2day!"  Sure, if it were true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5139353914976217829?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5139353914976217829/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5139353914976217829' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5139353914976217829'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5139353914976217829'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/endings-to-stories.html' title='Endings to stories'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-916686368616831400</id><published>2008-08-27T06:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-27T06:37:33.643-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid puns'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Liz and Antman visit Gramps so he can thought-bubble pun</title><content type='html'>Here's what happened when Liz and Anthony showed up in Grandpa Jim's hospital room just after their wedding ceremony this past Saturday.  Iris was standing by his bedside, and Liz went, "Iris!  We came as fast as we cd!"  Iris went, "Oh, my dear!  --It's the bride and groom!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz went over 2 Gramps, put her left hand on his left shoulder, and went, "Here we R, Grandpa.  It's Anthony and Elizabeth.  We wanted U 2 B part of this day!"  And Gramps was like, "Yes!"  Iris told him, "They're fresh from the altar, Jim!  They took off right after the wedding! --Just jumped in a car and came here 2 the hospital!"  Gramps went, "Yes?"  And I guess all that emphasizing how they'd JUST!  GOTTEN!  MARRIED! was 2 set up Jim 4 the thought bubble he had next:  "A classic case of hitch and run!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is so wrong.  Setting ailing ppl up 4 punnery, even in their heads, is v. bad 4 their recovery!  OK, so I just made that up, but I'm sure it's true.  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-916686368616831400?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/916686368616831400/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=916686368616831400' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/916686368616831400'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/916686368616831400'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/liz-and-antman-visit-gramps-so-he-can.html' title='Liz and Antman visit Gramps so he can thought-bubble pun'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4078885451418672539</id><published>2008-08-26T06:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-26T07:08:21.238-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gordo Mayes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>She did, when she finally noticed</title><content type='html'>More about Liz's wedding this past Saturday.  When Anthony and Liz did their run down the aisle (with Liz trying 2 crib the look Dee had on her face when she and Mike did their trot @ wedding #2), sum1 was all, "Congratulations, U2!"  And sum insensitive clod was like, "It's about time!"  That mighta been Mom.  Gordo, standing on the Antman's side, went, "Wooo-hooo!"  And sum silhouette guy from Anthony's side went, "Ya-hooo!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, even tho Anthony and Liz had charged down the aisle, suddenly they were back @ the front, w/the bride's-side crowd gawking @ them.  And Liz had a teensy-weensy light bulb turn on over her empty head, as she went, "Anthony--where's my grandfather?  And Iris! ...They're &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NOT HERE&lt;/span&gt;!!"  Then she turned 2 Mom and sed, "Mom--sumthing's happened!  Where's Grandpa?"  And Mom went, "He's in the hospital, honey.  He cdn't come."  And Liz sed, "Then, we'll have 2 go 2&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; HIM&lt;/span&gt;!"  Mom was like, "But, U just got married!  Do U have 2 go &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NOW&lt;/span&gt;?"  And Liz went all carp-mouthed and sed, "I do."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... I'll tell U more 2morrow!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW, 2day is Mom's b-day.  She sez she's 57.  She's gonna B @ Lilliput's all day, having coffee and accepting b-day wishes and gifts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4078885451418672539?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4078885451418672539/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4078885451418672539' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4078885451418672539'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4078885451418672539'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/she-did-when-she-finally-noticed.html' title='She did, when she finally noticed'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1317381687251299989</id><published>2008-08-25T06:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T06:36:56.612-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>The wishes he had the whole time he was married 2 Thérèse</title><content type='html'>So, after the officiant took Liz and her Antman thru the standard vows, he was all, "Anthony Caine and Elizabeth Patterson...  I now pronounce U husband and wife.  U may kiss the bride!"  Mom and Dad had, 4 sum reason, stood up 2gether and watched the vows from the middle of the aisle, so they cd B, like, parallel 2 the wedding couple.  It was weird.  Then, they went in2 silhouette as they  watched the kiss.  Then, Anthony told Liz, I'm the happiest guy on the plant!  And Liz went, "One more kiss and make a wish!"  Poor Liz, she thinks she has 2 create special reasons if she wants more than the prescribed amt of kissing.  And Anthony was like, "I don't have 2 make a wish, Liz..."  Then he went 4 another kiss while saying, "2day, they've all come true."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm, I can almost imagine it now.  "Francie, when Daddy asked your birth-Mommy to marry him, he wished she were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elizabeth&lt;/span&gt;!  When the minister pronounced them husband and wife, Daddy wished he were pronouncing Daddy and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elizabeth&lt;/span&gt; husband and wife.  When your birth-Mommy gave birth to you, Daddy wished &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Elizabeth&lt;/span&gt; could be yr Mommy!  Now all of Daddy's wishes have come true!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1317381687251299989?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1317381687251299989/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1317381687251299989' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1317381687251299989'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1317381687251299989'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/wishes-he-had-whole-time-he-was-married.html' title='The wishes he had the whole time he was married 2 Thérèse'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-869758179329662584</id><published>2008-08-24T08:53:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T09:22:29.757-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gary Crane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aunt Georgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Thérèse'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vivian Crane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uncle Phil'/><title type='text'>The Day After</title><content type='html'>Well.  The Day has passed.  But, U know, it'll take me days and days 2 tell U abt it, and I can't even get up 2 the actual vows 2day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While walking Nizzie down the aisle, Dad was thinking, "::sniff:: It's Elizabeth's wedding day...  And I have 2 keep reminding myself.... that I'm not losing a daughter... ...I'm gaining an accountant."  Har dee har.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once he's delivered Liz 2 the Antman's side, the officiant will B all, "Elizabeth and Anthony, 2day yr firends and families R here 2 witness yr marriage, yr lifetime commitment 2 one another."  Kinda like Anthony's lifetime commitment 2 Thérèse 5 yrs B4, eh?  Then, he'll continue:  "They will hear the vows U R soon 2 make.  They will share w/U this joyous and solemn occasion and will B there 2 guide and support U...."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthony and Liz will look @ ea other sideways while the officiant goes, "Knowing that marriage is one of the most important obligations that NE 2 ppl will ever swear 2 uphold."  Yeah, Anthony has sum xxperience swearing 2 uphold that obligation.  2 Thérèse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weed gestured for me 2 step away from the bridesmaid line a bit so he cd snap a pic of me w/Mom and Dad as the officiant went, "Marriage is a challenge, but so too... It is love.  Marriage is patience and giving and caring and faith.  It is honesty and openness and thoughtfulness and truth..."  Yeah, unless U marry Thérèse?  Then officiant-guy went on, "In that yr understanding of one another will lead 2 a gr8er understanding of yrself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Weed went 2 the front and took a crowd shot while the officiant sed this:  "Marriage is friendship and respect.  It's the willingness to accept yr partner's qualities and differences, weak and strong."  Unless yr partner is Thérèse, rite, Ant?  Officiant went, "It is a promise made... And a lasting, successful, caring marriage is a promise kept...  Again and again and again."  @ that moment, Anthony and Liz shared a thought bubble of "I promise."  Mom and Dad also thought, "I promise," only they had individual his-and-hers thought bubbles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While that last bit was going on, I cd swear I cd hear people snf-snf-snffing, cutting sumthing out, and putting sumthing on their fridge doors.  I have a feeling a bunch of those ppl will show up @ Lilliput's 2morrow 2 have coffee w/Mom and tell her how they had tears in their eyes cuz Lizzie's wedding reminds them of [their own/their kid's/their other relative's] wedding, and blahblahblah shoot-me-now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-869758179329662584?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/869758179329662584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=869758179329662584' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/869758179329662584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/869758179329662584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/day-after.html' title='The Day After'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7953250606014720841</id><published>2008-08-23T08:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-23T08:34:09.121-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Holding on tight</title><content type='html'>Well, the day is here.  This will B my last premonition B4 I can start telling U abt stuff that already happened.  Tho U know it'll take me prolly all of next wk 2 tell U the rest abt 2day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robin will B rite @ the front, as ring bearer, w/Francie and Merrie standing side-by-side behind him, all ready 2 do their flower-girls stuff.  When the music starts, Robin will just stand there like a deer in headlights, so I'll hafta step out of line 2 go up 2 him, put a hand on his shoulder, and say, "U're the leader Robin.  Go ahead, now... the music has started."  The rest of the line-up behind us will be Dawn, then Shawna-Marie, then Candace, and finally Liz and Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Liz and Dad R starting down the aisle, Liz will B like, "This is it, Pop.  We're on our way."  And Dad will go, "Hold on tight."  While Dee squints @ them from the bride's side of the seats, Liz will tell Dad, "Don't worry.  I can do this.  I'm totally calm."  And Dad will B all, "I know...  that's Y I want U 2 hold on tight!!"  Yeah, whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sure I'd wake up 2day being able 2 tell U abt Liz and Antman xxchanging their vows, but all I've got is this?  Oh, well.  Gotta get started.  I guess Connie's prolly &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/flash-forward-to-wedding-day.html"&gt;helping Mom get dressed&lt;/a&gt; rite abt now.  And I hear Dad calling 4 me 2 &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/oh-god-im-fated-2-make-lame-pun.html"&gt;help him w/his tux&lt;/a&gt;.  Man, w/all those premonitions I've had, 2day is gonna B full of déjà vu 4 me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7953250606014720841?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7953250606014720841/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7953250606014720841' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7953250606014720841'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7953250606014720841'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/holding-on-tight.html' title='Holding on tight'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7695647182562499614</id><published>2008-08-22T06:27:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-22T06:49:02.486-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uncle Phil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>My mom's not-funny gallows humour</title><content type='html'>The wedding is tomorrow!  Is it wrong that I'm mostly relieved cuz that'll mean I can stop having premonitions abt that day?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's what I woke up knowing this time:  When Uncle Phil gets 2 the wedding site, Mom will B all, "Phil! I was afraid U were going 2 B l8!"  And Phil will take her hand and go, "It was close, Sis!"  Cuz Phil, too, will B dorky enuf 2 call his sister "Sis."  And Mom will ask him, "How's Dad?"  Phil will say, "Not gr8, El--but, he's going 2 pull thru."  Then he'll say, "Everything looks so nice! ...How's the bride?"  And Mom will B all, "Nervous, giddy, tired...  I wish Dad cd B here."  Uncle Phil will tell her, "He'll B here in spirit, Sis."  Then Mom will decide this is time 2 make a funny.  She'll B like, "I thought U sed he was going 2 pull thru!!"  And Uncle Phil will smirk @ her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Howard, ugh, I can't believe we're having the rehearsal dinner @ the Gravy Boat!  I can't blame U 4 &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/it-was-cliffhanger-2-nothing.html#c8553852524818307002"&gt;sobbing&lt;/a&gt; when Iris told U that last nite.  Not only is it all heart-attack food, but they don't serve a single thing I can eat!  I guess I'll B packing a dinner 4 myself.  Ugh, I wish Gramps hadn't made me promise not 2 try 2 prevent his heart attack!  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7695647182562499614?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7695647182562499614/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7695647182562499614' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7695647182562499614'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7695647182562499614'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/my-moms-not-funny-gallows-humour.html' title='My mom&apos;s not-funny gallows humour'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2613559989387136542</id><published>2008-08-21T06:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-21T07:13:54.918-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>It was a cliffhanger 2 nothing</title><content type='html'>Wow we're 2 days away from the &lt;strike&gt;debacle&lt;/strike&gt; wedding.  I woke up knowing some more abt what will happen.  It looks like Liz's big "STOP" outburst I told U abt yesterday won't lead 2 NEthing substantial stopping.  The limo will pull up 2 the park, and we'll all get out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, rite after our big disembark, Dawn will B helping Liz adjust her train as Liz thought-bubbles, "Don't B nervous, don't B nervous, calm... B calm..."  And Dad will geet her w/"Hi, honey!  --Are U nervous?"  Then we will all go in2 the rarely seen white silhouette, and sum1 will B saying, "The bride and F.O.B. R here, bridesmaids, here, flower girls and ring bearer..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robin will interrupt whoever it is who'll say that, w/"When can I have the ring?"  Liz will bend slightly @ the waist and tell him, "Not until the procession starts, Robin.  We don't want U 2 lose it.  --So, for now, it's safely in yr grandfather's pocket."   And Dad, w/his hands in his pockets, will go, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;AAA&lt;/span&gt;HH!!?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  Acting like he doesn't have the ring.  Liz will B so terrified that she'll bare her lower teeth.   Candace will pop her mouth open.  Robin will B button-nosed and gobsmacked.  Shawna-Marie will B in white silhouette.  Francie will apparently B on a potty break, so Dawn will B playing her role, crouching down so she's only one entire head taller than Robin and looking close-eyed and concerned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Dad will pull the ring case outta his pocket and go "Just kidding!"  Dawn will have anticipated sumthing like this, as she'll have had time 2 resume portraying herself and run around the other side, so she'll B behind Dad and pretending she's abt 2 strangle him."  Liz will clench her entire face, Merrie will just look a bit bug-eyed, Robin will LOL, and the rest of us will B in silhouette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I'm confused.  "Ring"?  As in just one ring?  Is Liz the only one who'll wear a ring in this marriage?  Shouldn't there B 2?  Or will sum1 other than the ringbearer have the other ring?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2613559989387136542?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2613559989387136542/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2613559989387136542' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2613559989387136542'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2613559989387136542'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/it-was-cliffhanger-2-nothing.html' title='It was a cliffhanger 2 nothing'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7509710308639402034</id><published>2008-08-20T06:28:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-20T06:48:36.211-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Cliffhanger?</title><content type='html'>Sum more I woke up knowing abt Liz's wedding day, which is now three days away:  Merrie will go, "Is this a real limousine?  The kind movie stars use?"  Really, Merrie, not even six years old, and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THAT'S&lt;/span&gt; what U're gonna ask?  Then Francie will B all, "How long B4 we get 2 the park?"  And Robin will ask, "Will there B lotsa ppl?"  And Merrie will wanna know, "Can we ride this 2 the reception?"  And sitting next 2 Liz, I'll B sharing her POV, which will B that w/Francie and Robin squished 2gether on one side of the limo (Liz's left), and Merrie on the other (w/Candace and Dawn directly across fr us), it will seem like a teeny-tiny interrogation panel, as all these question will B directed @ Liz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then they'll switch off 2 sumthing else.  Francie will B like, "My dad is gonna marry yr auntie, so that makes us stousins!"  And Robin will go, "Stousins?"  Francie will say, "Step-cousins!  'Stousins.'"  OK, obviously, this will come from a grown-up telling her this.  Even a 3yo w/"advanced verbal skills" won't come up w/that on her own.  The only question is, "Which grown-up put that idea in her head?"  My guess is Anthony.  Wouldn't most &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;normal&lt;/span&gt; grown-ups tell a little 3yo girl in this sitch that her new stepmother's niece and nephew were gonna B her c&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ousins&lt;/span&gt;, and just leave out all that "step" stuff?  That just seems nicer, don't U think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, NEway, after Francie sez that abt "stousins," I guess sumthing will click off in Robin's brain, cuz then he'll B all, "Stousins!  Stuzzins!  Stooba gooba stubba nubba stousa loosa steeba deeba."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly, Liz will emit a huge, &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;TO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  And this will cause Francie 2 B all, "Erp?"  And Robin will B like, "Oop!"  And a huge shadow will completely conceal Shawna-Marie, so U can't even C her silhouette.  And I don't know whether Liz's outburst will just B Liz freaking out abt stopping Robin's chatter, or sumthing bigger like "Stop the wedding."  The bigness of the &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;S&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;TO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;P&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; has me thinking it's sumthing more than "Robin, stop being annoying," tho that cd B part of it.  Like mayB it will dawn on Liz that there is no way she is ready 2 B a stepmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I guess there's a gd chance that'll all come 2 nothing.  Guess I'll know more 2morrow.  Sorry abt the cliffhanger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7509710308639402034?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7509710308639402034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7509710308639402034' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7509710308639402034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7509710308639402034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/cliffhanger.html' title='Cliffhanger?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7405571979390047362</id><published>2008-08-19T06:49:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T07:01:12.518-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobsmackery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uncle Phil'/><title type='text'>Carry on Gobsmacked</title><content type='html'>I woke up knowing sum more abt what will happen on 23 August, Liz's wedding day.  This time, I know sum stuff abt what Iris and Uncle Phil will talk abt by Gramps's bedside @ hospital. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iris will have one hand on the rail of Grandpa Jim's bed and will tell Uncle Phil, "He's been fine 4 so long, Phil.  If NEthing, I thought he mite have another stroke. ...But, it's his heart again."  Phil will take both of Iris's hands in his own (and their hands will B oddly deformed just then), and he'll say, "Iris, I can't leave U like this!" Iris will go, "Go 2 the wedding, dear. We'll B fine.  I want 2 B here when Jim wakes up."  The 1st 1/2 of Iris's reply makes me think that she'll think he'll B offering 2 stay, but the 2nd 1/2 makes me think she'll believe he'll B suggesting she shd go 2 the wedding herself.  MayB it's that she won't really know and will B covering both possibilities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, after she says that, she will take Phil by the arm and lead him out of the curtained area of Grandpa Jim's bed, while saying, "He's going 2 recover.  I'm sure of that.  --They're doing everything they can.  So don't worry.  Have a wonderful time... And just carry on as if nothing happened."  And Uncle Phil will look gobsmacked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7405571979390047362?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7405571979390047362/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7405571979390047362' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7405571979390047362'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7405571979390047362'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/carry-on-gobsmacked.html' title='Carry on Gobsmacked'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8942155495185973086</id><published>2008-08-18T06:33:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T21:42:38.847-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Smooth Ride/Lobotomized Bride</title><content type='html'>So again I woke up knowing sum more abt what will happen on Liz's wedding day, which is now 5 days away. It will B time 4 the bridal party 2 pile in2 the limo, and so sum1 will B all, "The limousine is here, ladies!" As Liz climbs in2 that thing as tho she's climbing up a mountain, sum1 behind her will B like, "R U OK, Liz?" And Liz will B all, "I think so--I'm trying not 2 step on my dress!" Dawn will say, "Let me help U!" Shawna-Marie will say, "Don't mess her hair!" Candace will B all, "Who's got the bouquet?" And Meredith will ask, "When can I get in?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once every1's inside, it'll B Liz between me and Shawna-Marie, and @ the other (front) end of the limo will Be Merrie, Dawn, Candace, Francie and Robin. Candace will tell the driver, "Ready!!" Dawn will B in silhouette 2 Candace's rite when she sez that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, once the limo gets moving, I'll tell Liz, "Well, Sis... we're rolling!" I'll B one of those dorks who actually calls her sister "Sis." ::puke:: And Liz will say, "And I think it's going 2 B a smooth ride." And Candace will B in silhouette, Merrie will have a wary look in her eye, Dawn will B unseen, except mayB by wary Merrie, and, inexplicably, Francie and Robin will laff like Liz's joke is funnier than Mr. Noodle doing something v. v. silly on the "Elmo's World" part of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sesame Street&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And apparently, Mom will have followed Uncle Phil's orders not 2 tell the bride (or probably NE1 else in the bridal party) abt Gramps and the heart attack.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. Dunc, don't feel bad abt spilling the news that I'll get that super-early acceptance 2 Guelph. If Mom didn't want me 2 know, she shdn't have bragged 2 my mom. Tho, in my favour, I noticed that Guelph seems a bit farther away than Burlington. And my fam is always saying that Burlington (which is where Mira and Wilf Sobinski, Dee's parents, live) is waaaaaay 2 far 2 visit. So I guess that will make Guelph uncommutable so I will &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HAVE 2&lt;/span&gt; live in the dorms! Ha, logic! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8942155495185973086?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8942155495185973086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8942155495185973086' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8942155495185973086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8942155495185973086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/smooth-ridelobomized-bride.html' title='Smooth Ride/Lobotomized Bride'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-10517894442878127</id><published>2008-08-17T08:38:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-17T08:57:28.937-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Aunt Georgia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Patterson food obsession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anne Nichols'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mira'/><title type='text'>A premonition for the Sunday people</title><content type='html'>I only got a coupla hrs of sleep after Liz's bachelorette party that went till dawn (not 2 b confused w/Dawn w/a capital "D").  But I still woke up knowing sum more deets on Liz's wedding day.  But I kinda think these deets mite B sumwhat outta sequence and compressed, like they're a special assortment 4 the ppl who only get 2 hear abt us on Sundays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, like, I'm gonna tell Mom that Annie sez they'll B serving vegetarian nibbles w/dips on the side, and Mom will think, "Nibbles and dips?"  I think this mite B a stupid reference 2 "kibbles and bits," but whatevs.  Actually the nibbles and dips will B vegan (thanx 4 that lil concession 2 me, Annie), but I won't wanna confuse Mom more than she already is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee will come up 2 Mom all, "Michael sez the musicians have arrived. ....When do U think they shd start?"  Mira will say, "I have the flower girls dressed, but I can't find their baskets!"  I'll say, "Aunt Georgia wants 2 know where 2 put all the gifts, Mom."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee will find a cuff link and ask Mom if it belongs w/one of the tuxes.  I'll take a call from Anthony's mom and share that she wants sum1 2 take photos of the cake B4 it's cut.  (That shd B a big "duh," cuz who doesn't do that automatically, but I guess she knows abt my fam and the Pattersnarfing.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robin will ask, "Who gets 2 go in the 1st limousine?"  Merrie (holding the flower-girl basket that will have been found) will wanna know, "When do we get started?"  Mira will ask, "Has NE1 seen the hair brush?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom will sit @ the kitchen table and  go all flabbergasty w/"&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;::SIGH::&lt;/span&gt;  ...Elizabeth [&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LIZ!&lt;/span&gt;] and Anthony wanted a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SIMPLE&lt;/span&gt; wedding, John.  ....How did it turn in2 such a production?"  Dad will put a hand on ea of Mom's shoulders and go, "I guess every1 wanted 2 B a part of it, El.  Every1 wants it 2 B a wonderful, magical day."  Then he'll lean down, hug her from behind, and go, "It's as simple as that."  And mom will smile weakly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Beatrice, sorry abt my sister being such a &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/gramps.html#c3878015846662607093"&gt;mean drunk&lt;/a&gt; @ her bachelorette party.   I think she feels the need 2 reassure herself that she hasn't lost her "Patterson allure."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-10517894442878127?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/10517894442878127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=10517894442878127' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/10517894442878127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/10517894442878127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/premonition-for-sunday-people.html' title='A premonition for the Sunday people'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1723829217457994756</id><published>2008-08-16T09:19:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-16T09:50:28.513-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uncle Phil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Gramps! :(</title><content type='html'>OMG!  OK, so Jeremy and I just got back from Gramps and Iris's apt.  Early this morning, I'd gotten a phone call from Iris, all "April, you and Jeremy have to get here rite away!"  So we totally did, and guess what?  Gramps talked 2 us, like he did B4 he had aphasia.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was like, "April, U have 2 listen closely.  I can talk 2 U now, but I know it's only temporary and I don't know how long this will last.  I had a premonition about yr sister's wedding day."  I started 2 tell him that I've been having those, 2, but he waved his hand 2 let him continue.  He went, "April.  This is important.  And you must not try change what I'm abt 2 tell U.  On yr sister's wedding day, I'm going 2 have a heart attack."  I was like, "NOOOO!"  And Gramps put up his hand 2 quiet me and sed, "Yes, April.  Here is how yr mother will find out.  Yr father will B saying, 'It's almost time 2 go, El.  Every1's ready.'  And yr mother will B on the phone w/yr Uncle Phil, who will B w/us @ hospital.   Elly (not 'El,' fergawshsakes) will tell him, 'Just a minute, John... It's my brother.   Phil!  Say that again?  Where R U?!!'  And Phil will say, 'I'm @ the hospital.  Dad's had another heart attack.  He won't B coming 2 the wedding.  Iris is going 2 stay w/him.  Georgia and I will B rite there--and Elly?  Don't tell Elizabeth.  ...He doesn't want 2 spoil her day.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sed, "No!  Gramps, we have 2 stop this! U R more important than the stupid wedding, and plus the whole reason Liz was doing all this rush-rush stuff was so U cd B there.  MayB if we take U 2 hospital now.  MayB if we throw out all that bad heart-attack food Mom has brought U this wk and refuse NE more!"  Gramps shook his head vigorously.  "April, no!  Please listen to my wishes.  The aphasia is going 2 come back and I'm going 2 go back 2 being a prisoner in my failing body.  And no one even brings me my picture book NEmore!"  I was like "I'll get U a new one,"  but he shook his head.  "Stop, April!  Listen, I don't know yet whether that heart attack will kill me, but if it does, that is the way it's meant 2 B.  I'm already past my sell-by date, sweetheart.  And frankly, that dress Liz is so anxious 4 me 2 C her gett married in looks nothing like the gown my sweet Marian wore when she was a strapping young airforce veteran!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just started 2 cry, so Gramps started addressing Jeremy.  "Make sure she doesn't try 2 stop this young man.  April has 2 pretend she doesn't know this is happening, because if her parents don't tell Liz, they surely won't tell April.  She &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HAS TO&lt;/span&gt; put a smile on her face and go thru w/everything that's supposed 2 happen on that day.  Everything that she's already reported on her blog, and all the stuff that will unwind afterwards, as well.  The show has 2 go on!"  Then there was sum more stuff I didn't even get, cuz I started 2 cry so hard I was practically dry-heaving, and Iris took me 2 the washroom 2 splash sum water on my face, and calm me down.  Jeremy mite B able 2 fill in sum deets on what I missed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got back from the washroom, Gramps was going, "Boxcar!  No!"  I was like, "Aphasia is back?"  And Gramps sadly went, "Yes.  Boxcar."  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1723829217457994756?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1723829217457994756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1723829217457994756' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1723829217457994756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1723829217457994756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/gramps.html' title='Gramps! :('/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4224823380105113322</id><published>2008-08-15T06:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-15T06:41:34.786-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Giggly-girl bridesmaids</title><content type='html'>I woke up knowing sum more abt Liz's wedding day, which is eight days away (23 August).  Candace will suddenly B acting all giggly and girly, telling Liz, "Lemme fix yr veil, Liz! --U look amazing!"  And Shawna-Marie will go, "U need sum more blush!"  While applying more blush w/sumthing that looks more like a rubber stamper, Shawna-Marie will say, "This is so cool.  U were a bridesmaid at Dawn's and my weddings..."  And Dawn will finish w/"And now we're bridesmaids @ yrs."  In case U R confused w/how Shawna-Marie will word that, they each had one wedding.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then here's where Candace's weird girlyness will really come out.  Standing behind and slitely 2 the side of Liz, she'll put one hand by the left side of Liz's neck, the other on Liz's rite shoulder, and as Liz looks terrified, she will say, "Let's make a pact, girls.  We R gonna B friends 4ever, OK?  No matter what happens...."  And then the 4 of them will go in2 silhouette and chant, "Friends 4ever!  4ever!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;4ever&lt;/span&gt;!!!"  It'll almost seem like they R trying 2 cast a spell.  Does NE1 know if this is how 27-yr-old women normally talk?  This seems much younger.  Like mayB sumthing U promise yr friends when U all finish middle school. Plus, is Candace even friends w/Dawn and Shawna?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, after that weird chanting, Liz will B all, "But 1st... Let's make it thru 2day!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And that's all I know from waking up this morning.  I wonder why Candace will act so unCandacelike.  That kinda disturbs me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4224823380105113322?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4224823380105113322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4224823380105113322' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4224823380105113322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4224823380105113322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/giggly-girl-bridesmaids.html' title='Giggly-girl bridesmaids'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-6173890809995340465</id><published>2008-08-14T06:56:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T07:02:08.445-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobsmackery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mira'/><title type='text'>Dee, kids, and Mira</title><content type='html'>Weird.  I woke up realizing I hadn't had another precognition abt Liz's wedding day, 23 August.  But then I came over here, checked the comments 2 last nite's blog entry, and found that patrickrsghost  had had a psychic dream abt it!  Here's what he &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-feel-like-one-of-those-precogs-in.html#c3762276789026946215"&gt;wrote&lt;/a&gt;:   &lt;blockquote&gt;After eating a large hot fudge sundae last night, I had a strange dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting in front of my TV, and it suddenly came on. I saw an image of a living room that I didn't recognize at first, until I realized it was the living room of your old house, Mike and Dee's house. I saw three kids dressed in teal and lavender clothing, and when they came into focus, it turned out to be Merrie, Frenchy, and Robin. They were chasing each other in the living room (are Mike and Dee still in the same house your parents once owned? I didn't recognize that portion of the living room), with Merrie saying "SHREIK!" and Frenchy saying "GIGGLE!" while Robin chased her, reaching out to grab her. Dee came into the room and said "Robin, Francie, and Meredith! Stop running around!" The camera then panned to a different view, showing the back of them, and Dee escorting them into an adjoining room. She then said "You're going to get dirty. Sit down and behave your-selves." Yes, she did hyphenate "yourselves". They then began playing with each other on the magically colour-changing couch, that turned itself teal to match the girls' dresses, and began to NUDGE. BOP! POKE! and GIGGLE!. The camera then panned away and went back onto Dee and Mira, and Dee said, "Mom, all I want to do is keep them clean and calm until after the wedding!" Mira then replied, after putting a hand on Dee's shoulder, "I'll help with that, dear." She then walked into the room with the Teal Couch and after losing her eyes, she looked down at them, held out a bowl, and said, "Here...have some candy." while Dee looked in on them all gobsmacked. That's right Mira. Calm them down and keep them clean with lots of sugar.&lt;/blockquote&gt;NE1 think it's strange that my brother's mother-in-law was invited 2 my sister's wedding?  I think the reason is moments like this one that patrickrsghost described.  Sum1 figured we needed a "villain," eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-6173890809995340465?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6173890809995340465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=6173890809995340465' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6173890809995340465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6173890809995340465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/dee-kids-and-mira.html' title='Dee, kids, and Mira'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5224826871339989814</id><published>2008-08-13T06:38:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-13T07:01:14.340-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trying to be wise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gordo Mayes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tracey Mayes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>I feel like one of those precogs in Minority Report</title><content type='html'>I woke up knowing sum more abt the upcoming Lizthony wedding (23 August).  Sorry, Mike, nothing abt Dad saying he's proud of you.  MayB I'll try and trick him in2 saying he's proud of U, eh?  It cd B an interesting rhetorical xxercise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, 2day's premonition involves Gordo Mayes driving Anthony 2 the wedding.  Unlike Gordo, Anthony will B wearing a lavender bowtie.  Gordo will go, "Nervous, Anthony?"  And Anthony will B all, "Yes and no.....  Yes, because it's my wedding day, and no, because I'm marrying the right girl!"  Gah, poor Thérèse.  I wonder if Anthony had this convo on his wedding day three yrs B4, only w/him saying, "Yes and yes... Yes, because it's my wedding day, and yes, because I'm marrying the wrong girl!  I'm gonna go wait outside the church so I can greet Liz when she gets there!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gordo will say, "I've known U both 4 a long time.  I've seen U thru a lot of crazy circumstances--an' I gotta say... This feels like it's gonna work.  U're doing the rite thing.  I guess he'll leave out the bit where he remembers thinking, "Anthony's doing the WRONG thing" 3 yrs earlier.  Sure Thérèse wd luv this convo!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, Anthony will then ask Gordo, "Gord, wd U get married a second time?  Hypothetically speaking...  Wd U?"  and Gordo will say, "Yes and no!  Yes, because I've had the best marriage a guy cd hope 4!  And no, because... ...I've had the best marriage a guy cd hope 4."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The way Gordo'll B talking abt his marriage in the past tense--let's all keep an eye on Tracey!  Make sure she's, U know, OK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, I M so glad the side effects of yr JohnPattersonitis vax will B wearing off soon.  All  the punning, all the talk abt dentistry, trains, and toolkits--glad it's going away!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5224826871339989814?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5224826871339989814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5224826871339989814' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5224826871339989814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5224826871339989814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-feel-like-one-of-those-precogs-in.html' title='I feel like one of those precogs in Minority Report'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-691987546568965473</id><published>2008-08-12T07:06:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-12T07:17:18.082-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Squicky premonition</title><content type='html'>Today, I woke up knowing another tidbit abt August 23 (Liz's wedding day), and now I wish I cd go back 2 bed and unknow it.  Also, I think this is the same premonition Dreadedcandiru2 shared in a &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/liz-will-b-off-hook-4-repaying.html#c6344176189842101875"&gt;comment&lt;/a&gt; here this past Friday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I know that Dad will come up 2 Liz (while still @ the TTH) and Liz will go, "What do U think, Dad?"  And Dad will B all, "U're such a beauty, Elizabeth.  I'm so proud of U."  Then Weed will come up 2 them w/his camera and B like, "A portrait of the bride and her father B4 the wedding!  Come in2 the lite, pls!"  Then he will say, "...I want U 2 look @ each other and say sumthing wonderful... But say it w/yr eyes."  So, Dad will give Liz one of those creepy sidelong glances Anthony's always giving her, while Liz will look up @ him (in profile 2 the camera) w/a schmoopy look on her face.  And they will simulthink, "U're sumthing ...wonderful!!"  They will both B thinking that b-cuz they're both so literal, and will not B able 2 avoid taking Weed's "say sumthing wonderful" as literally as they can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bleah.  All this is still 11 days away, and already I'm so, so tired of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-691987546568965473?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/691987546568965473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=691987546568965473' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/691987546568965473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/691987546568965473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/squicky-premonition.html' title='Squicky premonition'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8836029171632816599</id><published>2008-08-11T06:34:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-11T06:52:31.873-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gary Crane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Vivian Crane'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>CRANE, Mike, not CROW</title><content type='html'>Mike had another &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/mayb-its-something-about-house.html#c7327080412520777593"&gt;premonition&lt;/a&gt; about Liz's wedding day, 23 August:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. I had another moment where I foresaw something from Elizabeth’s wedding day and it is my delight to share it with you. As you may or may not remember, in addition to delivering a magnificent speech at Elizabeth’s wedding, it was decided to also take advantage of my celebrity status and have me act as a greeter and seater. Plus I could sign a few copies of my latest novel, &lt;i&gt;Blood Cargo&lt;/i&gt;, if necessary. When people come to the wedding, I will say, “Are you friends of the bride or the groom?” and then I seat them in the seats on the left if they say, “Bride” and the seats on the right if they say, “Groom.” Or is that the other way around? I am sure I will get it right by the wedding day. Mom said I could reshuffle the guests if it turned out there was no one who would claim to be a friend of the groom, which mom thinks is likely.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back to my foretelling. I am standing there at the wedding ceremony location, looking good. I had already seated an Asian woman and her stalker and they were almost sitting in their chairs the right way. Then a First Nations man, and a lighter-coloured woman show up. My initial thought was that this was the constable Liz used to date, whom I never met. I thought he was there to flaunt the fact he found another almost-white woman to date in front of Elizabeth on her wedding day. Only he made a mistake, because this woman was a lot fatter and uglier than Liz is. I know you are probably thinking there is no way anyone would go to the wedding of their ex-girlfriend or boyfriend to show off their date. That would be exceptionally rude, thoughtless and tasteless. I have heard of it occurring before; but I can’t remember when. Nevertheless, this was the thought that crossed my mind at that moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I figured I could probably take him, if he made trouble. I was getting ready to spring into action, knock him on the ground, and give his ear a good tweaking; when it occurred to me that this was not the first responsibility of the greeter. First you greet. Then you tackle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They came up to me and said, “Excuse me, is this the Patterson-Caine wedding?” I responded with “Yes! Are you friends of the bride or the groom?” in perfect greeter fashion. The man said, “Friends of the bride!” “Ha!”, I thought. "You’re no friend of the bride, cowardly ex-boyfriend. Get ready to eat a Michael Patterson knuckle sandwich.” Then he said, “…We’re from Mtigwaki, the village where she taught…” I was about to slam him to the ground, when I suddenly remembered that there were actually people from that place Liz invited to her wedding. My mind flashed quickly down the guest list. What were their names? It would be so impressive of me, if I could remember their names without asking or looking at the guest list. I remembered it was a bird name, and it started with “cr”. I thought, “Crake? Crab plover? Crossbill? Crow?” Then I thought, “Crow. That has to be it, because that sounds just like one of those First Nation names.” So, I said, “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Crow!” They didn’t say they weren’t, so I knew I got it right. Score one for Michael Patterson. I grabbed a lavender chair and said in my best greeter voice, “Welcome! Please sit down. Elizabeth will be so glad you came!” I foretell those greeter lines will come so naturally to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they sit down, I notice Lawrence Poirier is standing next me. Obviously he was amused that I did not immediately recognize one of Elizabeth’s friends with close to the same skin colour as he has. I explain, “My sister has a lot of friends, Lawrence. Some of them I’ve never met before!” Lawrence responds with a great joke, “That’s the thing about weddings, Mike…It unites the ‘Who’s Who’ with the ‘Who’s that?’” What great joke, playing on the word “Who.” I foresee myself laughing a lot at that one. I’m not laughing at it now; but I foresee I will find it very funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That’s where it ends. Isn’t that a great prediction? I am going to find out that Liz has friends I don’t know. Who would have thought it was possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Aw, Gary and Vivian, why R U going 2 B 2 polite 2 correct Mike?  Mike, as patrickrsghost &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/mayb-its-something-about-house.html#c8392228416409629717"&gt;commented&lt;/a&gt; last nite, their last name is CRANE not CROW.  Tho their not correcting U has me wondering the same thing patrickrsghost does, which is whether their names will silently get changed on that &lt;a href="http://www.fborfw.com/features/who/"&gt;Who's Who&lt;/a&gt; site Steph maintains for Mom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;I know you are probably thinking there is no way anyone would go to the wedding of their ex-girlfriend or boyfriend to show off their date. That would be exceptionally rude, thoughtless and tasteless. I have heard of it occurring before; but I can’t remember when. Nevertheless, this was the thought that crossed my mind at that moment.&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Mike, what you're not-quite remembering is that Liz showed up to the Anthony-Thérèse wedding with her dancing date Dennis North.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8836029171632816599?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8836029171632816599/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8836029171632816599' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8836029171632816599'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8836029171632816599'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/crane-mike-not-crow.html' title='CRANE, Mike, not CROW'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5945388165770855028</id><published>2008-08-10T10:17:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-10T10:41:49.087-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gobsmackery'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>MayB it's something about the house?</title><content type='html'>Well, I didn't wake up 2day w/a premonition abt the wedding day, 23 August.  I dunno if that's cuz I was up l8 w/Liz's bridal shower and then slept l8, 2, or if it's just cuz Sundays R different in our world.  I kinda think it's "Sunday's R different."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't worry, I still have a story 2 share w/U.  This is sumthing Dee told us last nite @ the shower, rite after Liz passed out.  She sed that when Liz was having her final fitting of the not-Marian gown, Merrie and Robin came in as Dee was struggling w/the zipper and Merrie giggled.  Dee told Merrie, "Come on, guys... Find sumthing else 2 do!"  I'm not sure Y the kids giggling in the doorway is such an awful thing 2 do, but whatevs. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, she knew that the 1st thing they'd do is settle in front of the TV, and 4 sum reason, this offended her, 2, cuz she went, "And don't go plunking yourselves down in front of the tV!"  Next, she knew they'd go 4 sum snacks, and she didn't want this either, so she was all, "And don't go grubbing around in the fridge!!"  Then she knew they'd go out w/buckets and shovels 2 play in the sandbox, and so she went, "U're wearing good clothes, so don't get dirty!!"  Next thing she knew, she was looking out the window, espying Merrie and Robin, totally naked, playing in the sprinkler."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee told us, "I felt my mouth fall open, gaping, my eyes bugged out, and my entire posture...."  She waited a moment as she saw Mom going 2 use the washroom, and then she sed, "I felt that I looked like a short-haired, blonde Elly Patterson!  My 'short' hair was even trying 2 arrange itself in2 a bun, which it cdn't, but it tried!"  And I told her, "I don't want 2 scare U, but that whole thing U described, that's xxactly how Mom wda dealt w/the situation."  And Tracey Mayes said, "Really, Deanna, if U objected 2 all the things U knew yr children wd want 2 do, Y didn't U just tell them sumthing U didn't object 2?  Like 'Hey kids, how about U colour in yr colouring books.'"  Dee said, "I don't know.  It seems as though just a few yrs ago, I wd have 'thought' of that."  And I sed, "MayB it's the house."  And everyone kind of nodded, xxcept 4 Liz, who was still passed out.  And then Mom came outta the washroom and said, "What's everyone agreeing abt?"  And Dee said, "The house has a powerful effect on me."  And Mom kinda puffed up w/pride and sed, "Of course it does!  I put many years of 'Elly Patterson' in that house."  And everyone kind of xxchanged secret looks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanx 4 yr compliment abt my hair, Beatrice!  I loved having it down and flat-ironed--I wish I cd wear it like that all the time!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5945388165770855028?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5945388165770855028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5945388165770855028' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5945388165770855028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5945388165770855028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/mayb-its-something-about-house.html' title='MayB it&apos;s something about the house?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8701082619974809801</id><published>2008-08-09T08:58:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-09T13:10:31.951-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Patterson food obsession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anne Nichols'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz and alcohol'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Mom shows her true colours--again</title><content type='html'>Well, foax, we R xxactly 2 weeks away from the Liz-Anthony wedding.  And I woke up this morning knowing sum more abt what will happen on that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom, Connie, and Anne Nichols will B standing in a reception hall @ the Empire Hotel, where Anne is the catering manager.  (Yup, Howard, it's what U were afraid was going 2 happen--Anne Nichols will handle the catering.)  Annie will say, "We're all ready 4 yr reception--U can trust the Empire Hotel!"  And Mom will go, "Better than that, Anne--we can trust the catering manager!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, Mom will say, "The girls @ the bookstore provided all the decorations and Anthony's mother made the cake!"  So U C, Anthony's mother just happens to make wedding cakes.  Bookstore peeps naturally do wedding decorations on the side?  NEway, Anne will ask, abt Anthony's mother:  "What's she like, Elly?"  And Mom, mayB 2 remind herself abt the manly-looking Connie's gender, will begin her response w/"Ladies," and then say, "She is great!  She is xxactly the kind of woman I'd want my daughter 2 have 4 a mother-in-law."  Anne will ask, "She gets along w/Elizabeth?"  And Mom will touch her left hand 2 her own sternum while saying, "She gets along w/&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;!"  And Connie, like the sidekick she is, will open her muppet-mouth and laugh like Elly is totally bringing the funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I guess 2 Mom, it won't matter if Liz can't stand Ant's mother.  MOM likes her.  That's all that matters 2 Mom.  Typical.  Liz, U can still back out, U know.  MayB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Howard, thanx 4 sharing &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/liz-will-b-off-hook-4-repaying.html#c6573863558884841142"&gt;that convo&lt;/a&gt; U, Beatrice, Maria and Ana had w/Dawn, David, Shawna-Marie, and Brian.  Liz never shared NE deets abt Dawn's wedding, and it sounds like it was really cube!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8701082619974809801?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8701082619974809801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8701082619974809801' title='28 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8701082619974809801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8701082619974809801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/mom-shows-her-true-colours-again.html' title='Mom shows her true colours--again'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>28</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7886714106788564482</id><published>2008-08-08T08:22:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-08T09:04:19.376-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='TTH'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carleen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Candace'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Weed'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Liz will B off the hook 4 "repaying"</title><content type='html'>I woke up 2day knowing a bit more of what will happen on 23 August, the day Lizzie marries the Ant.  Weed will B @ the TTH, where Liz and the bridal party will B gathered.  And Carleen, still, like I mentioned yesterday.  Weed will B taking pics, and he'll B all, "Now, a few shots of the bride getting ready! ...Look a bit frazzled, OK?"  And Liz will B like, "I don't have 2 act, Jo!"  "Jo"?  Doesn't NE1 but me call him "Weed" NEmore?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, Carleen will B standing behind Liz fussing with the veil, and Weed will go, "Turn around, Carleen!  We need the hair stylist in here!"  If U R thinking, "When did Carleen, who is Weed's photography assistant and biz manager, become a hair stylist,"  I can't say I blame U!  I think what's gonna happen is that when Mom finds out that my hairdresser, Sugar Van Rensselaer, is unwilling 2 don8 her services 4 free, she'll have a fit.  And sumhow, sum1 will end up suggesting that Carleen knows how 2 do hair.  How does she know how 2 do hair?  I dunno (yet).  MayB we'll find out, and mayB we won't.  This is all pretty chaotic and confusing, I know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, where was I?  Oh, rite!  After Weed snaps his "hair stylist" pic, Carleen will tell Liz, "When he's done, U're going 2 have the most incredible album, Liz.  He's up 4 another award, U know."  And Liz will go, "Yes.  I know."  R U thinking that a bunch of the wedding-prep conversations R going 2 have a feel of establishing how well various ppl we know R doing in life?  Same here!  After Liz's line I just told U abt, Candace will B fussing w/Liz's bustle for sum reason (this doesn't seem v. Candace-like, but neither does being a bridesmaid in a strapless lavendar gown, so there U go).  Liz will touch a hand 2 Carleen and go, "So many ppl R doing so much 4 me!  U're making this day the most amazing day of my life!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, there will B this weird moment where Liz seems 2 B addressing an unseen TV camera, w/Candace standing just behind her rite side, clutching her rite shoulder, Dawn doing a left-shoulder clutch on the other side, then me behind Candace and Shawna-Marie behind Dawrn, clutching Dawn's left shoulder and kinda snuggling up 2 her.  Liz will go, "What can I do 2 repay every1?  I will B abt 2 say that thanking ppl wd B a v. v. good start, but B4 I have a chance, Candace will blurt, "Just enjoy it, girl!"  And Dawn will go, "Yeah!  ...This is our day 2!"  Rite, cuz every1 is just so privileged 2 bask in the glow of a Pattercaine wedding, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, I guess I'll know sum more 2morrow.  Or mayB sum1 else will wake up knowing sum stuff, like Mike did Wednesday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7886714106788564482?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7886714106788564482/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7886714106788564482' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7886714106788564482'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7886714106788564482'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/liz-will-b-off-hook-4-repaying.html' title='Liz will B off the hook 4 &quot;repaying&quot;'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8020193587619360889</id><published>2008-08-07T06:57:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-07T07:20:30.841-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gordo Mayes'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Carleen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Gordo will provide cars and puns</title><content type='html'>I woke up knowing sum more abt what'll happen on Liz's wedding day (August 23) and was surprised to realize I'd already gotten up to a "Liz" part.  Liz will B sitting as Carleen Stein (Carleen?!?!?!) helps her affix the veil to the back of her hair. Meredith will be standing nearby, holding her flower basket and looking kinda smug.  In the background will B three silhouettes.  I'll come up 2 Liz and be all, "Gordon's arranged 6 limousines for us, Liz!"  And Liz will go, "Six?!!"  And then Meredith will go in2 silhouette as I lean in towards Liz and say, "A stretch limo for U and the bridal party.  The rest R for family.  He's even hired drivers 2 pick every1 up @ their homes!"  (As opposed 2 when U get a limo U have 2 drive yrself or all those times U have 2 walk 2 the limo place, eh?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz will go, "Wow."  Then Carleen will go in2 silhouette and Liz will say, "I'm stunned!  Really!  We're going 2 feel like celebrities!!"  And I'll say, "Yep!"  Then I'll look over my shoulder and tell her, "He sed, 'Mayes Motors never does NEthing half classed!'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R U thinking it's odd that Liz won't know these transportation deets until the actual day of the wedding?  Yeah, that'd B true of most brides, but Liz has been weirdly uninterested in her own wedding process.  Imagine if my line were going to be, "Uh-oh, looks like we're all taking taxis!  We forgot 2 arrange 4 transportation!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8020193587619360889?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8020193587619360889/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8020193587619360889' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8020193587619360889'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8020193587619360889'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/gordo-will-provide-cars-and-puns.html' title='Gordo will provide cars and puns'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7825042177040013766</id><published>2008-08-06T06:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-06T06:40:21.094-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Mike has a flash-forward to the wedding day</title><content type='html'>So, it looks like I'm not the only one who's been waking up this week knowing stuff that'll happen on Liz's wedding day, August 23.  Now it's &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/oh-god-im-fated-2-make-lame-pun.html#c7579873704697955859"&gt;Mike's turn&lt;/a&gt;:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. It’s been almost 2 months since you last told a story about modern day me, I was beginning to feel little unappreciated. Fortunately for you, I woke up with a vision of me and Elizabeth’s wedding day, and simply felt I had to tell it. So, if you had another story to tell about Elizabeth’s wedding that did not involve me, it's just too bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was in my tuxedo with the teal bowtie and cummerbund with my family nowhere to be seen, contemplating the best way for the crowd to lift me on their shoulders and carry me out after I do my speech for Elizabeth in her ceremony. I was standing on a clear pathway between chairs, lavender-coloured chairs lined up in rows. In front of me, nestled at the front of all those lavender-coloured chairs was an arch made up of lavender and teal flowers. And there were big buckets of flowers and potted plants, all coloured lavender and teal. And there was a tree over head, with its ancient branches hanging over the lavender and teal as if to say, “Someone has drawn a tree leaning almost completely over.” The tree was so surreal; I knew it must be a dream.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was there, standing resolutely with my hands in my pockets, knowing deep in my heart of hearts that this must be the place where Anthony Caine and my sister, a clearly colour blind sister, would be saying the vows which would unite them together as husband and wife. As I stood there alone, Lawrence Poirier was beside me and I said to him, “You’ve outdone yourself with the flowers again, Lawrence.” He replied, “My pleasure, Mike. It truly is a pleasure.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was at this point I was sure I was going to get the lecture about how Lawrence is a landscaper and not a florist, but that moment did not come. Then I saw Lawrence lean over in my direction, as if he were going to kiss me, but that moment did not come. Instead he did something even better. Lawrence said, “There isn’t anything we wouldn’t do for you or for your folks---friendship aside, the support you’ve given us has been major!” At first I wanted to tell him it was “majour!” with a “u” and not “major” like you would spell in the states, but my mind was taken with a completely different thought. For just the briefest of moments after Lawrence said this, I almost felt like I should say, “Thank you!” But then it went away. That was a close one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, “You’ve helped us out with 2 weddings now—when are you gonna take the plunge?” Yes, I said “gonna.” It wasn’t very pretty. They say that when you go to weddings, the first thing to go is your language. But I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was unabashedly putting Lawrence on the spot. It’s just that when you are happily married as I am, you want everyone to be married. To some people that seems like putting on the pressure; but I had not had a face-to-face conversation with Lawrence since 2005. I think the pressure was pretty low.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the lights went out and I felt a sprig of my hair leap up, as if in imitation of your usual hairstyle. Lawrence said, “Nick and I are married in spirit, Mike. I don’t think we’ll have a ceremony.” Then I put my left hand on his right shoulder, and he concluded with “But isn’t it great to know we have the right!!!” I thought to myself, “right to have a ceremony” or “right to be married in spirit”? I think there is some rule in Milborough that if you are together for more than 10 years you have to get married. I am not sure Lawrence and Nick have the right to be married only in sprit. And what is this spirit marriage anyway? I never figured Lawrence as one who would start talking about ghosts, much less ghosts who can have weddings. You try to have a decent conversation with someone you haven’t personally talked to over 3 years, and this is what happens. I remember now why it was I stopped talking to Lawrence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Mike, U silly goof.  We write "major" in Canada, 2.  Not "majour."  In fact, even the &lt;a href="http://www.askoxford.com/concise_oed/major"&gt;Brits write "major."&lt;/a&gt;  Oh, hang on, Liz is here.  She saw what U wrote and wants 2 add sumthing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;Hi, this is Liz.  Why do people keep saying I'm &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;colour blind&lt;/span&gt;?  My &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;wedding colours&lt;/span&gt; are &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;gorgeous&lt;/span&gt; together, and I'm going to be the &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;prettiest pretty bride ever&lt;/span&gt;!  Look how &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;nice&lt;/span&gt; these &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;colours&lt;/span&gt; are.  If you don't think so, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;YOU'RE&lt;/span&gt; colour blind.  And a &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;picky face&lt;/span&gt;!  Well, I've got to go.  I've got more &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;important things&lt;/span&gt; to do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7825042177040013766?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7825042177040013766/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7825042177040013766' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7825042177040013766'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7825042177040013766'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/mike-has-flash-forward-to-wedding-day.html' title='Mike has a flash-forward to the wedding day'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-9150692731023071245</id><published>2008-08-05T06:44:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T08:01:35.918-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Patterson food obsession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid puns'/><title type='text'>Oh, God, I'm Fated 2 Make a Lame Pun!</title><content type='html'>I woke up 2day knowing sum more abt what's gonna happen on Liz's wedding day, August 23.  And now I wanna go back 2 bed until August 23, cuz I know I'm fated 2 make an awful, cringeworthy PUN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll B helping Dad with his tux accessories, and he'll B grumping, "This was supposed 2 B a simple wedding!  Y do I hafta wear a tux?"  Yep, Dad will say, "hafta."  And I'll say, "Family politics, 'Pop.'"  Then I'll go, "Anthony's uncle owns the business!  Here... Lemme get those cuff links," even though I'll aleady B putting a cuff link on when I start saying all that.  Then Dad will whine, "I look like a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CLOWN&lt;/span&gt; in this bowtie."  And I'll notice his cummerbund is upside down, so I'll say, "U've got this thing upside down."  As I'm fixing that, Dad'll B all, "How do U know which way it goes?"  And I'll say....  Gah, I just want 2 stop rite there.  I don't wanna have 2 tell U abt the PUN.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ugh, well, U'll find out NEway.  I'll tell Dad, "Well, the pleats open up--so if U drop stuff @ dinner, it falls in2 the cracks.  That's Y it's called a crumberbund!"  And Dad will glare @ me.  Even tho that's xxactly the kind of thing he'd say himself.  Prolly he'll B sore he didn't think of it himself.  And sadly, the way Dad eats, he prolly WILL get crumbs all in it.  I'm sure Anthony's uncle will appreciate &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Edit:&lt;/span&gt;  Jeremy and Howard, sorry I missed &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/flash-forward-to-wedding-day.html#c4650627031472305581"&gt;your&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/flash-forward-to-wedding-day.html#c4197076201264005941"&gt;comments&lt;/a&gt; last nite.  So much craziness leading up 2 the wedding.  I tried  xxplain 2 my mom that sum peeps who see a badly coloured pic of her getting ready 4 the wedding will mistakenly think she's trimming nosehair when actually she is applying lipstick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-9150692731023071245?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/9150692731023071245/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=9150692731023071245' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/9150692731023071245'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/9150692731023071245'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/oh-god-im-fated-2-make-lame-pun.html' title='Oh, God, I&apos;m Fated 2 Make a Lame Pun!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5830056062522541063</id><published>2008-08-04T06:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T06:30:33.958-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Flash Forward to the Wedding Day</title><content type='html'>Even though Liz's wedding is going to be on August 23, I already know what's going to happen.  Well, I don't know everything that's going to happen, but suddenly, I know a bit abt what Mom and Connie will discuss as Mom outfits herself for the wedding.  I can't xxplain Y this is, but I have a feeling that on each day leading up 2 the wedding, I'll know just a lil bit more of what's going 2 happen on "big" day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, here's what I know so far.  Mom will B putting on her lipstick and saying, "This is all happening so fast, Connie."  Connie will go, "Everything happens fast, El."  Then Mom will turn 2 Connie and say, "How do I look? --Is this outfit too 'Mother of the Bride'?"  Connie will answer her, "U look great!  And--U &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ARE&lt;/span&gt; the mother of the bride!"  Which will B weird, cuz Mom will already know she's the MOB.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connie will clench Mom's left shoulder w/her right hand and B all, "U're going to smile 'til it hurts and cry in yr kleenex and take a million pictures and I'm gonna B so happy 4 U, that I'll cry 2!"  Notice she'll B happy 4 MOM--not 4 Liz or Anthony."  She will escort Mom out of the room and tell her, "Then, when it's all over, we're BOTH going to look like a couple of wrecks!  But I'll try to look worse than U."  Mom will say, "Thanks."  Then, as they go out in2 the hallway, Connie will say, "No problem... That's what good friends do!"  Good friends look worse than U so U'll look better?  Interesting concept.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of other things U mite B interested 2 know:  Mom will wear her hair in a French twist instead of her usual bun.  She'll be wearing a blouse, shirt, and jacket combo.  Connie will have a sleeveless black dress and have her short hair severely parted on the side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5830056062522541063?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5830056062522541063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5830056062522541063' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5830056062522541063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5830056062522541063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/flash-forward-to-wedding-day.html' title='Flash Forward to the Wedding Day'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7494060310847463916</id><published>2008-08-03T07:15:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T18:51:11.596-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Ugh, whatever</title><content type='html'>Mom has gotten sum criticism 4 seeming 2 run off the moment Iris got home from her recent trip 2 Calgary, instead of sticking around 4 a bit and giving her a chance 2 decompress.  So now she wants every1 2 know that she came by the next morning 2 treat Gramps and Iris to breakfast in bed.  "I am SUCH a good daughter, April!  Take notes!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom sez that the 1st thing she did was pile a bunch of photo albums on the bed, so Iris and Gramps cd look thru them while Mom prepared their &lt;strike&gt;heart-attack food&lt;/strike&gt;  breakfast.  Iris told me that while they were looking at sum old pix, Gramps pted 2 sum guy he knew from WWII, and Iris went, "Yes, that's yr friend Ernie.  He flew a Lancaster, didn't he."  Then Iris told him, "U C?  U haven't 4gotten v. much, Jim!"  Then she looked again @ the album, which was marked "1940-1947," and sed, "Thank goodness 4 photographs!"  And Gramps went, "Yes!"  Then they spent a bunch more time going thru that album and others, pting and laughing @ certain pix.  Iris held an album called "Our Trip to England" as Gramps looked thru one called "1950-1967," and Iris was all, "The cottage @ Ka[w]kawa Lake!"  Gramps sed, "Yes.  Yes."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking @ more pix, Iris was all, "Here's yr son's graduation! ...The birth of yr 1st grandchild!"  I hope they don't have pix of Mike's actual birth, don't U?    Then, as Mom wheeled in the brekky cart, Mom was all, "So, how's the history lesson going, Iris?"  And Iris went, "Fine, dear, just fine."  And as Mom set up the cart and handed Gramps a tea cup, Iris sed, "We've worked our way up to the Middle Ages!"  And of course, Mom laughed like that was the funniest thing she'd ever heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah, who calls going thru photo albums a "history lesson"?  It mite B "history," but it's not a lesson, since obviously Gramps remembers all the stuff in it when he sees it.  Way 2 set up sum super-lame wordplay.  Again.  Yuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7494060310847463916?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7494060310847463916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7494060310847463916' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7494060310847463916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7494060310847463916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/ugh-whatever.html' title='Ugh, whatever'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3637702877349026055</id><published>2008-08-02T07:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-02T22:00:21.648-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>And now we're on "HOME" again</title><content type='html'>Liz is here.  She just told me abt a recent convo she had w/Anthony, and I was gonna write abt it here, but as soon as she saw me write my title, she was all, "No, no, no, April!  I can tell already you won't do this right!  Let &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt; write this."  So I'm turning this over 2 Liz again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Hello, April's readers.  This is Liz.  April can't be trusted to tell you my story properly.  Or in the nicest colours and fonts.  I'm feeling like deep purple today, aren't you?  Well, if you're not, that's too bad, and you're a picky-face just like April!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, Anthony and I were sitting on the steps of his back deck.  Frenchy was playing in the yard, with some toys she'd brought outside.  Anthony asked me, "Any second thoughts?"  And I said, "About getting married?  No.  I love Françoise, I love your family, and I love you!"  Then I said, "I had such a crush on you in high school... and now after all this time, I have another chance."  Shut up, April!  April is reading this over my shoulder and she said, "Crush in high school?  You were always breaking up with him, planning to break up with him, or at least wondering if you could do better.  Then you'd only get back together with him after you had a panic attack about being boyfriendless."  See what a picky-face?  Forget what you think you know about me and Anthony in high school.  Now it's "I had a crush on him."  Got it?  Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, after I said, "I have another chance,"  Anthony said, "Me too... Another chance."  We both avoided the ugly subject of his first marriage.  Then I said, "No more running way.  No more searching for something that was right here in front of me--all along."  And Anthony said, "Elizabeth?" Then he threw his arms around me, kissed me, and at the same time, said, "...Welcome home."  Isn't that romantic?  Shut up, April, it is so!  And I don't know how he managed to say that while kissing me, he just DID!  Martian!  Quit rolling your eyes!  I'm gonna tell Mom!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3637702877349026055?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3637702877349026055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3637702877349026055' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3637702877349026055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3637702877349026055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/and-now-were-on-home-again.html' title='And now we&apos;re on &quot;HOME&quot; again'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2065105496987003991</id><published>2008-08-01T06:35:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-08-01T06:45:02.563-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>What's not being provided for free?</title><content type='html'>Dad was pretending to use his computer, and I came up behind him, all, "The rental place called, 'POP'--U can pick up yr tux in the morning."  "Pop" is dorky, just like Dad is.  Then I went, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"HOOO!"&lt;/span&gt;  Which I learned from Gerald's obnoxious Hoo-boy friend.  And then, "U R gonna look sooo sophisticated... soooo el-ee-gant as U walk down the aisle w/Liz on yr arm."  "El-ee-gant," of course, is not the normal way 2 pronounce "elegant."  It's one of Dad's lame wordplay things.  It's kind of like "elegant as rendered by Elly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I leaned an elbow on one of Dad's shoulders and went, "U didn't hafta do that much when Mike and Dee were married...  Now U've gotta--how do they say it? ...'Give away the bride'?"  The "they" in that sentence referred to the backwards ppl who still C a bride as property 2 B transferred from father to groom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, when I walked away and slipped in2 silhouette, Dad was all, "Heck, I'm not 'giving away the bride' ....This thing's costing me a &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BUNDLE&lt;/span&gt;!!!"  Huh, Really?  Even w/all the freebees Liz is getting?  What?  Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2065105496987003991?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2065105496987003991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2065105496987003991' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2065105496987003991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2065105496987003991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/08/whats-not-being-provided-for-free.html' title='What&apos;s not being provided for free?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1158363904861158930</id><published>2008-07-31T07:04:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-31T07:17:04.664-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Patterson food obsession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Mom and Dad Made it About Themselves Again</title><content type='html'>When Mom got back from her visit w/Gramps, she found Dad grilling on the backyard barbecue.  (Jeremy and I were inside making delicious vegan foods!)  Dad was like, "So how's yr Dad, El?"  Mom went, "I think he'll B fine, John--and Iris had a nice break from caregiving.  Looking after him is a lot of work...  U're always afraid that he'll choke or fall or something.  He's so lucky 2 have her.  He's so lucky to have sum1 there 2 care 4 him when he's failing, when he's frightened, when he needs help."   Dad was all, "I know."  Then he put an arm around Mom's shoulders and they simul-thoughtbubbled, "And I wonder... When the time comes... which one of us will play that role."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;U prolly have noticed this is a pattern.  Contact w/Gramps always leads them 2 consider themselves getting older.  Hm.  Make of that what U will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1158363904861158930?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1158363904861158930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1158363904861158930' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1158363904861158930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1158363904861158930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/mom-and-dad-made-it-about-themselves.html' title='Mom and Dad Made it About Themselves Again'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5004887106269488008</id><published>2008-07-30T06:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-30T06:47:16.050-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid puns'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Mucilage</title><content type='html'>OK, so I just heard what happened when Iris got back, ending Mom's few-day stay w/Gramps.  Mom was all, "Welcome home, Iris!"  And Iris was like, "Hello, my dear!"  As Iris walked in2 the apt, she sed this 2 Mom, over her shoulder:  "Thanks 4 staying w/yr dad, Elly.  I did appreciate my time away."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She put down her bags and went, "And I'm sure he needed some time away from me 2!  --He must get tired of seeing my face day after day after day!"  And Gramps went, "No!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iris grabbed each of his hands in her own, and went, "U don't get tired of me?  Well, that's good.  Because I love U--and U're STUCK w/me!   ...Bonded, fastened, cemented and glued!"  Gramps thought-bubbled, "The feeling is mucilage!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is your first reaction "bwuh"?  Is it to go look up the word "mucilage"?  That was my reaction.  Its &lt;a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/mucilage"&gt;definition from Dictionary.com&lt;/a&gt; is:  &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;span class="pronset"&gt;&lt;span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pron"&gt;&lt;b&gt;myoo&lt;/b&gt;-s&lt;i&gt;uh&lt;/i&gt;-lij&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;noun  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;table class="luna-Ent"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="dn" valign="top"&gt;1.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;any of various, usually liquid, preparations of gum, glue, or the like, used as an adhesive. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;  &lt;table class="luna-Ent"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="dn" valign="top"&gt;2.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td valign="top"&gt;any of various gummy secretions or gelatinous substances present in plants.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;And then mayB you're thinking, "Oh, so he means Iris sticks to him like glue.  Is that good or bad?"  And then you might be thinking, "But was he thought-bubble punning?  What could be the pun?  Oh, no.  Was he punning on 'the feeling is mutual'?  Gah, he was!"  At least that what ran thru my head.  This is an esp. weak pun (and I h8 puns 2 start with!).  The only resemblance between the 2 words is the "myoo" sound at the beginning.  &lt;span class="pronset"&gt;&lt;span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pron"&gt;&lt;b&gt;myoo&lt;/b&gt;-choo-&lt;i&gt;uh&lt;/i&gt;&lt;img class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0" /&gt;l&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;]/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pronset"&gt;&lt;span class="show_spellpr" style="display: inline;"&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;[&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="pron"&gt;&lt;b&gt;myoo&lt;/b&gt;-s&lt;i&gt;uh&lt;/i&gt;-lij&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="prondelim"&gt;].  Ugh.  Painful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5004887106269488008?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5004887106269488008/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5004887106269488008' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5004887106269488008'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5004887106269488008'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/mucilage.html' title='Mucilage'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3544920369436687973</id><published>2008-07-29T06:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-29T07:24:34.509-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Witch of Corbeil'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><title type='text'>The Witch Finds False Teeth Hi-Larious</title><content type='html'>Guess who was on &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Good Morning, Milborough&lt;/span&gt; today?  The Witch of Corbeil (WoC)!  The hostess, Candi Clonkers, was interviewing her abt Mom's visit w/Grandpa Jim.  Here's a bit I remember:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  I think we'd all agree that Mrs. Patterson is a nice, nice woman, who LOVES her father!  An all-around wonderful daughter and human being!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  Yes, yes!  That's what people need to realize!  Elly's not perfect, but her HEART is in the right place.  And she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tries&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC&lt;/span&gt; [consulting notes]&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;:  &lt;/span&gt;So, as I understand it, the part of Elly's visit people will be discussing today, over coffee and whatnot, featured her asking her father, "You're OK, aren't you, Dad?  In spite of, you know... Everything... You're OK?"  To which Mr. Richards said, "Yes," while hoisting himself up from chair to walker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  Yes!  Elly is so caring....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC: &lt;/span&gt; Then, she put one arm around him while saying, "You mean so much to me--to &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;EVERYONE&lt;/span&gt;!  We don't tell you often enough how lucky we are to have you here with us."  Correct?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC: &lt;/span&gt; Yes!  And I think this is something many families can relate to, families with elderly relatives who...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  Some of my sources indicate that April Patterson is a notable exception, as she visits her Grandpa often and tells him how much she loves him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  April!  Well, she's a teenager!  And a little spoiled!  She might be nice to her Grandpa, but what her parents have to put up with, having a teenager in the house!  Well, maybe they'd visit Jim more often if they didn't have to deal with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;her&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  But would they, really?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  No.  Not really.  But let's get back to Elly's visit.  Don't forget their lovely &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;HUG&lt;/span&gt;!  Right after that dialogue about how lucky the Pattersons are to have Jim with them, Jim let go of his walker, walked his feeble, failing body over to Elly, and gave her a hug!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  Sources tell me that during the hug, your father's body, seen from the back, looked squat and womanly.  And the back of his head looked quite a bit like Elly's daughter-in-law, Deanna's!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  Horrible, picky people!  I'd like to see them do better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  Er, never mind!  Let's get back to how wonderful this moment was!  Elly said, "Ooohh!  I'm gonna feel this hug for &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DAYS&lt;/span&gt;!" Then Jim thought, "Me too."  And after he and Elly disengaged from the hug, he put a hand to his shirt while thinking, "I left my teeth in my pocket!!!"  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Laughs hysterically, tongue extended&lt;/span&gt;.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;   Why do you find false teeth so funny?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  Aw, c'mon, isn't it obvious?  They're &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TEETH&lt;/span&gt;, that come &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OUT&lt;/span&gt; of the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;MOUTH&lt;/span&gt;, that can be &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LEFT PLACES&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LOST&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BRANDISHED AT PEOPLE &lt;/span&gt;and can &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;BITE &lt;/span&gt;their owner by mistake!  What's not to find hilarious?!  [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Laughs again&lt;/span&gt;.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  Didn't this "joke" scenario happen before, about seven or eight years ago, when Jim was living with the Pattersons?  Doesn't that diminish the erstwhile humour?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC:&lt;/span&gt;  NO!  If it was funny then, it's still funny NOW!  And most people aren't going to remember so far back, so it'll be new to them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC: &lt;/span&gt; And why the heck doesn't Jim keep his teeth in his mouth?  I've never seen the logic of taking them out and sticking them in a shirt pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WoC: &lt;/span&gt; Well, if you did loads of research and development as I do, you'd know--it's something &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OLD&lt;/span&gt; people &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DO&lt;/span&gt;!  It's an "old" thing.  You wouldn't understand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;CC:&lt;/span&gt;  Okay!  So, on that note, that's all the time we have for this segment!  After the next break, join us for the toast-and-jam diet!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't stick around for the toast-and-jam diet.  I went right from seeing that to writing this.  Now I'd better go get ready 4 my work @ the vet clinic and more errands 4 Liz!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3544920369436687973?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3544920369436687973/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3544920369436687973' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3544920369436687973'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3544920369436687973'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/witch-finds-false-teeth-hi-larious.html' title='The Witch Finds False Teeth Hi-Larious'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4783817763510144683</id><published>2008-07-28T06:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-28T06:31:37.772-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Painful Punning</title><content type='html'>It turns out one of the reasons 4 Mom's visit was 2 infodump Gramps re. the wedding plans.  While Mom was still sitting on the floor in front of Grandpa Jim's chair, she was all, "I'm glad Iris decided 2 visit her son, Dad.  I've been wanting sum time alone w/U.  I haven't been keeping U up-2-d8, but now I can tell U what's going on in our lives."  And Gramps went, "Yes!"  How odd, U'd think Mom cdn't keep Gramps' "up-2-d8" when Iris is around.  It's not exactly classified info.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, Mom went on w/"The wedding is all planned.  We're having it on August 23rd."  Hm, don't U think Gramps wd know that from having received an invitation?  Or mayB he was one of the 10 non-RSVPs and Mom assumed that Iris threw away the invite and never told Gramps abt it?  Sorry, I'm digressing again.  Mom continued like this:  "Elizabeth is going 2 look lovely in Mom's dress*, and Anthony's uncle is supplying formal wear 4 the men!"  Don't U think the detail abt Anthony's uncle supplying formal wear is a weird thing 2 include?  Y shd Gramps care abt that?  Or mayB Mom feels the need 2 show how little this bride and groom actually had 2 pay 4.  Found dress.  Don8ed flowers.  "Supplied" formal wear.  What else? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing Mom said was, "April's going 2 sing!  Wait 'til U hear her!  Michael's writing a wonderful speech [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;groan&lt;/span&gt;], the children R all in the wedding party!"  Then Gramps is supposed 2 have thot, "I guess U cd call this a 'glow-by-glow' description'!"  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt; Gramps?  &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Glow&lt;/span&gt; by &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;glow&lt;/span&gt;?  What has Mom done 2 his brain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doug McKenzie, in answer 2 yr &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/boring-reminiscences-again.html#c6604273594736781241"&gt;question&lt;/a&gt;, we do have taverns in Mboro, but I don't know if that's what made Dad l8 that one time in 1980.  He sez he doesn't remember the incident.  I can't believe it--he's had lots of head trauma over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*That's NOT Grandma Marian's dress!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4783817763510144683?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4783817763510144683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4783817763510144683' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4783817763510144683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4783817763510144683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/painful-punning.html' title='Painful Punning'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2592850512714035661</id><published>2008-07-27T09:25:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-27T09:44:51.324-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Boring reminiscences again</title><content type='html'>Apparently, one of the movies that Mom brought 2 Gramps was abt a married couple where the guy left the woman after they'd been married more than 30 yrs.  Mom got really emotional during the movie, cuz it was set up so U really sympathize w/the woman and feel like the husband leaving came totally out of the blue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After the movie, it seems that Mom told Gramps that the whole sitch had her remembering sumthing that happened on August 24, 1980.  Gramps tried 2 pretend he was sleeping, but it didn't work and Mom told him NEway.  She remembered looking @ this weird clock she used 2 have, which was shaped like an apple that had  been cut in half, so the clock face was on the white part of the apple.  It didn't have all the numbers, just 9, 3, and 6, w/dots showing where the other numbers shd go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom recalled that when she looked @ the clock, it was 7:00 PM.  She remembered also looking @ her watch 2 corrobor8 the time, while holding little Lizzie and saying, "John's over an hour late!  --Where cd he B?"  Then she remembers putting Lizzie in her yellow high chair and pacing so hard she actually caused the word "PACE" 2 appear in the air 2x.  Meanwhile, she remembers that she, Liz, and Mike were in a backgroundless void that was orange, and Mike seemed only 2 have a torso, while Liz and her high chair both seemed 2 abruptly end where Liz's knees were.  As this happened, Mom thought, "Maybe he's had an accident.  --He cd B in a ditch sumwhere ....seriously hurt!!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She also remembered saying, "Where R U, John?  I cdn't &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;LIVE&lt;/span&gt; w/out U!"  But then she remembers the backgroundless void turning Dayglo green as she thought, "Or.. What if he drove sum1 home. --A luscious young thing, perhaps... And what if he went in 4 a drink! --And if..." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Dad &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SLAM&lt;/span&gt;ming the door shut and going, "Hi, honey, I'm home!" while the backgroundless void went back 2 orange.  A moment later, the orange gave way 2 white, as Mom shouted at him in white letters on a yellow background, "WHERE THE HECK HAVE YOU BEEN!"  While her face turned red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After Mom finished that story, apparently Gramps went, "Boxcar!  Boring!  1980!"  And Mom got in2 a tiff abt him being grouchy and 1980 being a "fun" year 2 talk abt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2592850512714035661?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2592850512714035661/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2592850512714035661' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2592850512714035661'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2592850512714035661'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/boring-reminiscences-again.html' title='Boring reminiscences again'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8025485462184480423</id><published>2008-07-26T08:38:00.007-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-26T10:21:01.512-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Patterson food obsession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April who?'/><title type='text'>Bringing glurge smiles</title><content type='html'>Lilliput's had a special "breakfast" event this morning, and Moira and Beatrice asked me 2 help them set up 4 it.  It turned out that most of the ppl @ the breakfast were the same peeps who R alwayz showing up @ Lilliput's 2 have coffee w/my Mom and talk abt our lives.  It's creepy how much sum of these ppl know.  And how much sum don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, this one chick was going, "Elly is so wonderfull [sic]!  The way she agreed to stay with her elderly father while Iris has a vacation is just so, so wonderfull [sic] and so, so NICE!"  Sum1 else sed, "Yes, I know what you mean!  Like for example, Elly told her father, 'I brought some of your favo[u]rite grub, Dad.  I'm gonna make Shepherd's pie, chicken and biscuits, bread pudding and trifle!'  Isn't that nice?"  And sum1 else sed, "Nice?  What's with Elly and the heart-attack-stroke-cancer food?  Does she want to kill off her father so she doesn't have to deal w/him @ the wedding?"  Another person sed, "Hey, who invited the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;mean&lt;/span&gt; ppl here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moira interjected, "We do allow ppl of differing views!"  And sum guy with an Indiana accent was like, "Well!  You really should limit this to people who appreciate how warm and loving Elly Patterson and her family are.  Except April!"  And I sed, "Hey!"  And he went, "Oh, Hi, April, I didn't notice you were here!"  And the chick who'd been saying "wonderfull" sed "April who?"  And the guy who'd made the comment abt the food was like, "April!  John and Elly's youngest, who is 17 and still living in their house!"  And that woman looked v. v. confused.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then sum1 else sed, "As a family-dynamics counselor, I really appreciated the way Elly told him, 'And despite yr grouchiness, we're going 2 have fun.'"  And sum1 else sed, "Oh, me, too!  And as teacher, I also liked how she went on w/'I brought you some good movies, April's new book, recent family photographs and herbs from my garden.'"  One woman @ the table went, "Michael's book!  What has the poor guy done 2 deserve &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; drivel?'"  And the easily confused chick was like, "No, not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;another&lt;/span&gt; mean person!  Michael is a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wonderfull&lt;/span&gt; [sic] writer, and his books R wonderfull [sic], 2!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sed, "U know, there's only one 'L' @ the end of 'wonderful,'" but then Moira shushed me and whispered, "We're not supposed to correct them.  At least not so directly."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, sum woman sed, "I lovedd [sic] it wen [sic] Ellie [sic] told Jimm [sic], "I've brought you the noosepaper [sic], some musick [sic], some choklit [sic]... and--' and then went, 'U're smyleing [sic]!  Woww [sic]!  I C a smyle!!'"  I whispered 2 Moira, "Wow, sum of these ppl R really lousy spellers!"  She nodded and looked a bit weary.  (Not 2 B confused w/"wary," BTW.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yet another woman was all, "Oh, but don't forget the very, very, very best part!  As Elly sat cross-legged on the floor, looking quite lovely, by the way, and not at all frumpy, so take that, Elly's critics, her father thought this:  'Yes... you've brought me that too.'  'That' meaning a smile!  C that?  Elly is just the best daughter EVER!  Ever, Ever, Ever!'"  And a lot of ppl nodded their heads, tho a couple were muttering abt how they hope that my mom doesn't consider pics from 1979/1980 2 B "recent family photographs."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the woman who'd just sed that stuff abt Mom being the best daughter ever sed, "By the way, I thought of some more things that could be written about Anthony:  'Anthony was frightened yet excited about his upcoming nuptials to the lovely Elizabeth Patterson.  After all, his first marriage had gone terribly, terribly wrong, and though Elizabeth was, of course, quite different from the first Mrs. Caine, Anthony was still Anthony, and he was terrified that he might make some kind of an error....'"  I heard a couple a ppl whisper, "Oh, God, SHE's here?"  And I figured this was a gd time 2 get outta there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was leaving, a coupla ppl who'd been called "mean" @ the table came up 2 me and sed sum really nice stuff abt how I'd B OK, just so long as I focused on my goals, didn't let my fam get 2 me, and made sure I left Mboro far, far behind as soon as I left 4 uni.  That was really nice 2 hear, and it made me think how that table must B like "opposite land" if those ppl were considered the "mean ppl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8025485462184480423?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8025485462184480423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8025485462184480423' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8025485462184480423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8025485462184480423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/bringing-glurge-smiles.html' title='Bringing &lt;strike&gt;glurge&lt;/strike&gt; smiles'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8320069798703611620</id><published>2008-07-25T08:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-25T09:02:23.843-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><title type='text'>Mom TRIES, yo!</title><content type='html'>K, so I heard sum more of what went on when Mom started her few-day stay w/Gramps.  It seems Gramps was using his walker and had a storm cloud over his head while Mom was folding a towel.  Mom told him, "Iris is only going 2 B gone 4 a few dayz, Dad--and we're going 2 have a gd time!"  Poor Gramps, do U have the impression that Mom's plan was "remind Gramps every 20 minutes that Iris is away and Mom is staying w/him 4 a few dayz"?  Yeah, me, 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom went on w/"We'll go outside, we'll watch movies, we'll make sum popcorn, and...."  Gramps did a big "SNORT!!" and began 2 clump away from Mom, towards his armchair.  As he was sitting, Mom was like, "Look.  I know how hard it is not being able 2 talk, not being able 2 do the things U used 2 do.  I know..."  Gramps cut her off w/a "&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 102);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;PFFTBLTTT&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;."  Then Mom stooped down 2 slitely below eye level w/Gramps and she went, "OK.  So I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DON'T&lt;/span&gt; know how U feel.... But I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;TRY&lt;/span&gt;!!"  And it seems Gramps either smiled or smirked @ her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy thanx w/yr &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/good-grief.html#c2631441293883348032"&gt;help&lt;/a&gt; last nite making sure Gramps wd B safe.  U R super-smart, yrself!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8320069798703611620?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8320069798703611620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8320069798703611620' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8320069798703611620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8320069798703611620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/mom-tries-yo.html' title='Mom TRIES, yo!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7541983245236211814</id><published>2008-07-24T06:43:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-24T06:54:03.208-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Good Grief!</title><content type='html'>OK, here's what I heard abt the start of Mom's "staying with"* Gramps so Iris cd go away a few days. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iris went, "I shdn't B going, Elly."  And Mom was all, "Of course U shd.  U don't get away nearly enuf!"  Then she zipped up Iris's suitcase and sed, "Dad and I will B just fine.  The nurses will help with his bath, and he can manage with, U know... personal things."  I guess we shd B gr8ful she didn't Brit-drop "the loo."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Iris stuck a finger in the air and was like, "Now, he likes a bit of oatmeal B4 bedtime, he gets up @ nite, so leave a lite on--watch him if he tries 2 use the stove, make sure he takes all his pills on time..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom didn't say NEthing, she just grabbed Iris's suitcase, and in silence, they left the apt, went down the elevator, and left the bldg, where Dad was waiting w/his 'vASSe.  Mom broke her silence then, w/"John's here 2 take U 2 the airport, Iris--and don't worry--Dad's in gd hands."  Iris hugged Mom and went, "Good hands... Good heart..."  Mom sed, "Goodbye."  I wda sed, "Good glurge!"  And Charlie Brown wda sed, "Good grief!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Yeah, I just felt like putting "quotes" around that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7541983245236211814?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7541983245236211814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7541983245236211814' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7541983245236211814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7541983245236211814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/good-grief.html' title='Good Grief!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2154376647047151012</id><published>2008-07-23T06:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-23T06:38:26.525-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Yesyesyes</title><content type='html'>So I heard that Mom showed up while Gramps and Iris were sitting outside.  Mom was like, "Hello, Dad!  They told me @ the front desk that I'd find U 2 out here."  And Gramps was all, "Yes!"  Then Mom was like, "It's so nice 2 have a garden behind yr apt."  And Gramps again was all, "Yes."  Then Iris went, "Elly has come 2 stay w/U dear--while I go and visit my son!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, it seems Mom sat down by Gramps and went, "U know that I'm staying w/U 4 a few days, don't U, Dad.  U remember, don't y..."  And Gramps got impatient and cut her off w/&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;ES &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;ES &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;Y&lt;/span&gt;ES!"&lt;/span&gt;  And Iris sed, "His memory's long enuf...  It's his temper that's short!!"  And Mom apparently looked mildly gobsmacked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so begins the story of "Elly stays w/her father so Iris can get away a few days."  Calcul8ed 2 make U all think she's a "gd daughter" after all.  We'll C if it works, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2154376647047151012?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2154376647047151012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2154376647047151012' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2154376647047151012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2154376647047151012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/yesyesyes.html' title='Yesyesyes'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2507472515458158176</id><published>2008-07-22T06:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-22T07:00:49.680-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Gramps the Conversation Piece</title><content type='html'>This morning, Gramps sent me another e-mail:  &lt;blockquote&gt;Hello, April!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In case you were wondering what happened after we got out of the elevator where no one was talking to me?  Well, Iris wheeled me outside to the seating area where the olds in my building like to sit around and chit-chat.  Two building employees came up to me--a young woman and a young man, and the young woman said, "It's good to see you outside, Jim!"  She talked right to me, April!  That was so nice!  Then Iris said, "He's looking well, isn't he!"  And the young man said, "Very well!"  Then Iris told him, "He's had a few ups and downs, but in general, his health seems to be stable."  And the man said, "Good to know, good to know." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Iris continued:  "We've had some visitors lately and taken some nice drives.  He watched a movie last night, and his daughter is coming to stay with him soon."  If I could have spoken, I would have said, "Yeah, I'll believe THAT when I see it!"  Also, I noticed that this nice young man was Asian and he almost seemed like an Asian guy drawn by a 60-year-old woman who has trouble drawing Asians without making them look as though their eyes are always closed!  But then, I just thought, "I used to be part of a conversation....  And now, I'm a conversation piece!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't feel too bad for your old Gramps.  Your visit yesterday really brightened my day, as always!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Aww, poor Gramps.  I hate when ppl talk abt me like I'm not there.  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2507472515458158176?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2507472515458158176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2507472515458158176' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2507472515458158176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2507472515458158176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/gramps-conversation-piece.html' title='Gramps the Conversation Piece'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-6796488119567832921</id><published>2008-07-21T06:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-21T06:32:32.863-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bwuh?'/><title type='text'>Talking walls</title><content type='html'>Gramps sent me an e-mail:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just a quick dispatch from your Gramps.  Iris took me into the elevator recently, as she is wont to do.  The elevator was quite full, and as soon as the door closed, the "oldies" in the elevator shared the most scandalous gossip!  Iris forbids me from sharing the details, but I can tell you that I found myself thinking, "If only the walls could talk!"  Wait, maybe the reason I was thinking that was because everyone seemed to be ignoring me, down at wheelchair level, while they swapped their gossip.  And if the walls could talk, at least then, someone would have been talking to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, my, there goes the old fert, getting himself depressed.  April, I know you're busy with the vet clinic and Liz's wedding plans, but can you spare some time today to visit your old Gramps?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Grandpa Jim&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;So I wrote back and sed I wd def. make time 2 visit.  I'll get Dixie out from where Mom has her tied up and also bring my guitar, of course!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-6796488119567832921?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6796488119567832921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=6796488119567832921' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6796488119567832921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6796488119567832921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/talking-walls.html' title='Talking walls'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3351913309938268475</id><published>2008-07-20T08:42:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-20T08:58:10.739-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Things that make you go, "Whatever"</title><content type='html'>Dee came by early this morning 2 tell Mom abt how Robin got himself all dirty by digging in their yard and rolling around and kicking and stuff.  Dee said that she found him in a dug-up area by the fence and took him inside 4 a bath, and that while she was bathing him, she was thinking, "How can so little sand get in2 so many places?"  I sed, "If he was digging by the fence, and not in the sandbox, wasn't it DIRT that got in2 so many places?"  And Dee, sed, "Um, yeah, I guess so."  And I sed, "How come he wasn't playing in he sandbox?"  And Dee sed, "Well, I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Mom sed, "Quit interrupting, April.  Adults are speaking.  Deanna, I know EXACTLY what U mean!  Y I cd tell U stories abt Michael that wd curl yr hair!"  Then, she got this stricken look on her face and sed, "Oh, my God, MICHAEL!  What's going on with him?  Has the Johnston Institute unerased him yet?"  And Dee looked blank 4 a second, and then she pulled a letter out of her purse, and handed it to Mom.  "This just came in yesterday's mail," she sed, "It sez they R making 'progress' w/the process of 'recorporealizing and reintegrating Michael Patterson.'  They don't specify when he'll B back, tho."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom took the letter, read it, snf-snffed a bit, and handed it back 2 Dee.  She was like, "U came over here and the story U led w/was 'Robin got dirty' and not 'Michael's progress'?"  Dee looked kind of sheepish, but Mom threw her arms around her and went, "U really R one of us now!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I was like, "Dee, who's watching the kids?"  And Dee was like, "Uh-oh!  I left them alone!  Michael erased is so much like Michael busy 'writing' that I 4got.  I've gotta go, Mother-Elly!"  And she did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3351913309938268475?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3351913309938268475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3351913309938268475' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3351913309938268475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3351913309938268475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/things-that-make-you-go-whatever.html' title='Things that make you go, &quot;Whatever&quot;'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5080611215773516012</id><published>2008-07-19T09:27:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-19T12:10:28.968-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Patterson food obsession'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid puns'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Bribezilla?</title><content type='html'>I'm just gonna turn this entry rite over 2 Liz, who is already hanging over my shoulder and trying 2 think of a made-up errand 2 send me on.  Brace yrself 4 her blinding wedding colours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha, smartypants April thinks she knows everything.  I'm not going to use my wedding colours today.  I'm going to use the colour scheme I'm thinking of using to redecorate the master bedroom after I marry Anthony and move into the house.  And shut-up to all of you who keep telling people I already have.  I am NOT that kind of girl (anymore), I still have my own apartment with a cat, and no one can prove anything!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;There, isn't that pretty?  This would be the main colour, and &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; would be the &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;accent.  April &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;is so mean, she asked me if I'm colour blind when I showed her my swatches.  That's almost as bad as how her mean friend &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Shannon Lake&lt;/span&gt; is always asking if I've been evaluated for special needs.  I don't know how &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;April&lt;/span&gt; gets such mean friends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, anyway, I have a story for you!  It's one of those stories that shows that &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; is JUST LIKE &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;DAD&lt;/span&gt;, and therefore &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;PERFECT HUSBAND MATERIAL&lt;/span&gt;!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Anthony, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;Frenchy, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 51);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204);"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; and I had just finished our shopping, and we stopped at that outdoor greasy-spoon place where &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Pattersons&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; who are not &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;April&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; like to have greaseburgers.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; and I were both having &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;wraps&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;, because those are "in" right now, and we all had fries.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Frenchy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;asked me, "I get to be a flower girl when you get married, don't I!"  And I told her, "Yes, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Francie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;--you and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Meredith&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; will be flower girls."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; asked, "Who gets to go first--me or &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Meredith&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;?"  And I cleverly told her, "&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Robin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; goes first because he's the ring bearer."  This was so distracting, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; never got the idea to ask who got to go second.  Instead, she asked, "Why can't I carry the rings?"  And I told her, "Because you'll be carrying &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;flowers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Then I got this brilliant idea.  It just hit me out of the blue, and I couldn't wait to say it:  "And if you and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Robin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Meredith&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; are really, really, really good... I'll have a very special gift for you when the wedding is over."  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; leaned over towards me and said, "Here comes the bribe!"  I held my french fry mid air and felt my face getting that "gobsmacked" look, which is the perfect look to get when someone "zings" you with a pun like that.  I thought, "Wow, that is EXACTLY the kind of thing &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;DAD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; would say."  And I felt SO proud of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.  Though part of me felt he was kind of, oh, what's that vocab word I was supposed to teach my grade fours in the last week of school?  Oh, right, "undermined."  Especially since he did that right in front of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;.  Oh, well, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;"&gt;Mom&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; told me that's what I need to get used to as a wife and mommy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 204, 204); font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;Liz Almost-Caine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5080611215773516012?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5080611215773516012/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5080611215773516012' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5080611215773516012'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5080611215773516012'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/bribezilla.html' title='Bribezilla?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-913925696549296715</id><published>2008-07-18T06:24:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T06:49:54.129-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Accepted by [his] daughter?</title><content type='html'>Well, Liz tried 2 "trick" me again this morning, w/another made-up errand, but I told her there's no need, she can write abt her lame, disturbing trip 2 the grocery store w/Antman and Francie all she wants.  I can use the time 4 sumthing else.  K, so I'm turning this over 2 Liz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmph.  I might give her an errand anyway.  I like putting April to work!  Anyway, I liked my fancy wedding-colour text so much yesterday, I'm going to do it again, except I'll make it mostly violet with teal accents.  Because I haven't decided which colour I'll emphasize at the wedding!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:verdana;" &gt;Ooh, pretty!  Let's see.  So &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; and I took &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt; grocery shopping.  And because I'm going to be her new &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Mommy&lt;/span&gt;, and &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; is the man, he went to browse in their hardware section while I took her up and down the food aisles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the cereal aisle, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt; asked, "Can I have some &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;sugar cereal&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Elizabeth&lt;/span&gt;?"  And I said, "Let's get healthy stuff today, OK?"  She followed that up with, "Then... Could I have some &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;candy&lt;/span&gt;?"  I could have pointed out that candy isn't "healthy," but if I did, she might remind me of that the next time she sees me eating &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;candy&lt;/span&gt;, and also, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; lets her keep a giant candy drawer in the kitchen at their house, so I said, "You have &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;candy&lt;/span&gt; at home."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A minute later, she said, "How about a &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;toy&lt;/span&gt;?!!  I haven't had a new &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;toy &lt;/span&gt;for a lonnngg tiiiiime!"  And I said, "Not today."  That's when she started pulling at my hand and going, "&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;PLEASE&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;PLEASE &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;PLEASE&lt;/span&gt; PLEASE &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);font-size:180%;" &gt;PLEASE&lt;/span&gt; PLEASE PLEASE?!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I bought her a toy, and after we checked out, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; caught up with us, and I told him, "I've been accepted by your daughter, &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt;....She's started to NAG me!"  I said this right in front of her.  Was that wrong of me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I'm so good, I got our groceries and &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:verdana;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt;'s &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;toy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(153, 51, 153);font-family:verdana;" &gt; in fabric "&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Green Sack&lt;/span&gt;s."  Not paper OR plastic. I am wonderful!  I wonder where I can get &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; a nice "&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;This house saves water&lt;/span&gt;" sign.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153);"&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-913925696549296715?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/913925696549296715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=913925696549296715' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/913925696549296715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/913925696549296715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/accepted-by-his-daughter.html' title='Accepted by [his] daughter?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5640843541290547160</id><published>2008-07-17T07:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-17T07:18:49.384-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Dizzy</title><content type='html'>Hey, there, foax, there's not 2 much going on rite now, just....  Oh, w8.  BridezilLiz is here and she's yelling 4 me again.  I'll B rite back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HA!  It's me, Liz!  I sent April out on an errand because I knew she'd be logged into her blog, and I want to tell you a sweet, sweet story that will FORCE you to like Anthony!  Oh, but first let me change this boring text.  I want the text fancier.  And in my wedding colours!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 153, 153); font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;" &gt;Much better, don't you think?  I don't know why people say &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;violet&lt;/span&gt; and teal are not a nice combination!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; and I took &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt; to the park recently, for a picnic.  Isn't that sweet and quaint?  After I lay down the blanket, &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Frenchy &lt;/span&gt;insisted, "Swing me, &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Daddy&lt;/span&gt;!  Swing me!!"  So &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; grabbed her by both hands and swung her so fast, she didn't seem to have legs the whole time she was swinging.  She seemed like a torso.  It was a little scary, but very &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;SWEET&lt;/span&gt;, &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;April&lt;/span&gt;.  Sweet!  Then, suddenly &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; was so dizzy, he had to let go and sit down.  He had a little twister over his head and dizziness bubbles and specks around his head, too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And silly &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Frenchy&lt;/span&gt;, she asked, "Why are you stopping?  ...I'm not dizzy yet!"  See how charming?  Don't you and your cold-hearted friends just &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;LOVE&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Anthony&lt;/span&gt; now?  You'd better love him!  Even though he hasn't helped out with the wedding, which is women's work anyway, so don't be mad at him for that, &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Mom&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Dad &lt;/span&gt;say you're not allowed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Liz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; (NOT BridezilLiz!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, man, I can't believe Liz just did that!  What a freak!  But, oh, well, that lame story is what I was going to tell you about anyway, so I guess I had 2 spend the time on Liz's lame errand instead of Liz's lame story, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5640843541290547160?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5640843541290547160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5640843541290547160' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5640843541290547160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5640843541290547160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/dizzy.html' title='Dizzy'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5001717472414003730</id><published>2008-07-16T06:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-16T06:44:26.319-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Mom makes us all sorry, eh?</title><content type='html'>This morning over brekky, Dad sed 2 me, "April, I will tell U a story that shows U sumthing U need 2 understand abt marriage.  Last nite, Yr mother and I were getting ready 4 bed, and as I put my Dentist's Choice brand toothpaste on my Excavat-R toothbrush, I sed, 'This wedding's been a lot of work, but U're enjoying it, Rn't U, El.'  And yr mother sed, 'Yes.  I have 2 admit I am.'"  I sed, "Dad, the wedding's been a lot of work 4 every1 but U!  And Dad sed, "Sh, let's not go there, yr Mom mite hear and get angry abt that, even tho she hasn't thot 2 get angry abt that yet!"  I sed, "Y don't U just help out?"  And Dad sed, "The answer 2 'Y' is 'Y.'  'Y' chromosome, that is!"  I rolled my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Dad sed, "Well, yr mother continued w/'It makes me think back 2 our wedding.  We just walked in2 it, didn't we.  We didn't question it... We just went ahead and got married.'  I was brushing my teeth, so I didn't answer rite away.  As I wiped my chin with a towel, I sed, 'And it's lasted 4 over 30 yrs--so, I guess I've dun all the rite things!'  Yr mother, who had been abt 2 brush her teeth, suddenly discarded her toothbrush and sed, 'What do U mean--&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;U've&lt;/span&gt; dun all the rite things?!'  I put a hand on one of her arms, looked @ her sheepishly, and sed, 'It was a joke!  I was kidding!  Honey, I'm sorry.  Really.  I'm sorry.'  Then a bit later, as we snuggled 2gether in bed, I thot, '....I did the rite thing.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was like, "U mean U sed U were sorry when U really weren't?"  And Dad sed, "U betcha.  It's called 'diplomacy.'  That's what U need in marriage.  Diplomacy."  And I sed, "U cd also try and avoid making jerky little comments in the 1st place."  Dad looked stricken and sed, "If I never made jerky comments, there'd B no makeup snuggles.  Don't U know makeup snuggles R the best kind?"  And I sed, "Oh, I just remembered, I need 2 B @ the vet clinic early so I can leave early and work on wedding stuff."  And Dad sed, "OK, well, don't work 2 hard, buddy!"  Blargh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5001717472414003730?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5001717472414003730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5001717472414003730' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5001717472414003730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5001717472414003730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/mom-makes-us-all-sorry-eh.html' title='Mom makes us all sorry, eh?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1272127973166017130</id><published>2008-07-15T06:52:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-15T09:54:38.477-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Cuz Liz, she's freaky!</title><content type='html'>After my stop @ Lakeshore Landscaping, I brought Liz the catalogues, saying, "Lawrence let me borrow sum catalogues, Liz!" She sed, "Gr8!" And we sat @ the kitchen table. While Liz went thru one of the catalogues, I sed, "He sed 2 choose what U wanted and he'll take care of the rest." Liz went, "He and Nick R so generous."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I did that annoying ticking-off-fingers-to-count-items gesture while saying, "So... U're wearing 'Grandma's' dress, the flowers will B taken care of, the bridesmaids R organized, the place is booked and we've talked 2 the caterers. ....What wd U like 2 freak out abt next?!!" Liz did a heavy-lidded stink-eye look, but I think that mite actually have been cuz she hadn't had time 2 think of what she wanted 2 freak out abt next. Liz needs 2 mull things over a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1272127973166017130?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1272127973166017130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1272127973166017130' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1272127973166017130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1272127973166017130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/cuz-liz-shes-freaky.html' title='Cuz Liz, she&apos;s freaky!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8229952785631544039</id><published>2008-07-14T06:22:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-14T06:33:28.582-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stupid puns'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Aw, no, Lawrence, don't PUN!</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so yesterday, I had 2 stop by Lawrence's biz, Lakeshore Landscaping, 2 talk 2 him abt the flowers 4 Liz's wedding.    Lawrence was all, "So, U're in charge of the flowers, hum?"  Gah, so my dad has Lawrence doing the "hum" thing now.  Who's next?  I went, "Yup! ...That's me!"  Elizabeth wants sumthing that'll go w/teal and violet ribbons [cuz she didn't take Mira's suggestion abt changing her hiddy colour scheme]."  And Lawrence opened up a catalogue, saying, "Let's check the catalogue."  He asked me, "She knows that Nick and I R giving her the flowers as a wedding gift, doesn't she?"  I thot mayB the reason 4 this question was Lawrence bracing himself 4 Liz 2 take full advantage by way over-ordering, but I wasn't sure.  I sed, "Yes.  It's really kind of U, Lawrence!"  And he sed....  Oh man, here's what he sed:  "No problem!  ..Business is blooming!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ick.  Poor Lawrence, my fam barely ever pays attention 2 him NEmore.  If they don't need help moving, or a summer job, or a tree, it's like they 4get he xxists.  So mayB he thinks it's cuz he doesn't pun enuf 4 my pun-happy, fam.  Please, Lawrence, don't come over 2 the pun side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dreadedcandiru2, U R rite, Liz is really making sure I have, like, zero spare time w/all this wedding stuff.  She even tried 2 get me 2 quit my job @ the vet clinic.  No way, man!  I may only B a cage cleaner there, but I still get 2 observe and learn, so that's important 4 my future, U know?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8229952785631544039?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8229952785631544039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8229952785631544039' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8229952785631544039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8229952785631544039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/aw-no-lawrence-dont-pun.html' title='Aw, no, Lawrence, don&apos;t PUN!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4742230513591073598</id><published>2008-07-13T08:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T08:38:13.508-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shawna-Marie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dawn'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Bridal Checklist Meeting</title><content type='html'>So, Liz called a special wedding-planning meeting yesterday.  It was me, Liz, Mom, Dawn Enjo, Shawna-Marie Verano [or her new name], and Dee.  I had the strange impression we were only having this meeting so that ppl who only pay attention 2 us once a week wd know that wedding planning was happening.  'Course those ppl also prolly think Liz and the Ant have been engaged since they had their stupid &lt;a href="http://www.fborfw.com/strip_fix/archives/002638.php"&gt;"checklist" d8 &lt;/a&gt;last summer.  Oh, and Liz liked that whole "checklist" thing so much, she made us use that approach 4 our dumb meeting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First, Dawn went over a list of stuff I had 2 say "check" abt.  "Bridesmaids gifts?" "Check."  "Groomsman's gifts?"  "Check."  No one went in2 how Jeremy and I had 2 go 2 every vendor in Mboro 2 beg them 2 don8 free gifts, of course.  NEway, next, it was my turn 2 say a bunch of stuff Mom had 2 say "check" abt:  "Corsages?  Roses?  Music?  Limo?  And photographer."  "Check. Check.  Check. Check. Check."  Sum1, I'm not sure who, went "This list is dun, then?"  And Mom thot-bubbled "Cheque!!!" and held up her finger like she was motioning 4 a waitress.  Even tho we weren't in a restaurant.  MayB she was mentally correcting Anthony, since @ the end of that "checklist" d8 I just referred back 2, he asked his waiter 4 the "check" instead of the "cheque."  That's considered v. gauche in Canada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, Dawn referred 2 another list and went, "OK, we have the chair covers, table cloths, napkins and place cards."  Mom sed, "The place cards we ordered R not available."  Y wd that only come out then, after the order was made?  Next, Shawna-Marie piped up, referring 2 a list of her own:  "Lawrence will B delivering all the flowers in the morning xxcept 4 the bouquets, which will B picked up @ noon."  Dee looked over her shoulder, as tho she cdn't trust Shawna-Marie 2 tell us what was really on that list. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom asked, "What abt the dinner?"  Yeah, of course she did.  Dawn replied, "We decided on the entrée, rite?"  And Mom jumped back in w/"And the cake will B individually wrapped and available at either end of the head table."  Huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shawna-Marie checked her list again and sed, "Music will B live during the ceremony and the dinner, but we have a DJ for the..."  Dawn interrupted that w/"W8!  The guy we hired can't come!"  Then Liz stood up and went, "They've asked us 2 move the ceremony away from the fountain.  ....It's being repaired."  Mom went, "What?!!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee referred 2 her own list and went, "My mom can't find the fabric she wants 4 the flower girl dresses, and suggests we change the colo[u]r scheme from teal and lavendar, 2 rose and powder blue."  Huh, I was surprised 2 learn that NE1 asked Mira 2 B involved, and that she agreed.  NEway, as we continued 2 check over stuff, I had a feeling that Mom was thot-bubbling something about "No wonder ppl cry @ weddings....  They're so happy 2 have them over with!!"  Yuh.  Nice sentiment, Moms.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, it was v. nice of U 2 do that whole &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/stupid-conversaton-between-dad-and-ant.html#c922389517403163802"&gt;camp thing&lt;/a&gt; as a favour 2 me.  Believe me, U will B rewarded v. v. handsomely when U return!  &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4742230513591073598?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4742230513591073598/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4742230513591073598' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4742230513591073598'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4742230513591073598'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/bridal-checklist-meeting.html' title='Bridal Checklist Meeting'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5246498807747754105</id><published>2008-07-12T10:05:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-13T18:07:45.513-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>A stupid conversaton between Dad and Ant</title><content type='html'>Ecch.  So, on that day of all the wedding planning, the one I've been telling U abt all wk, Dad succeeding in getting Anthony &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NOT&lt;/span&gt; 2 go in and help.  Instead, they sat on lawn chairs set up w/their backs facing the house, having cold drinks as Edgar sat by Anthony.  Dad was like, "So, U're going 2 B a member of the family @ last.  I've gotta say, that makes me happy, son!" Dad and the house went in2 silhouette, while nothing else, including the drink in Dad's hand, did.  And Dad sed, "Elizabeth's had a couple of close calls.  Nice boys, but Elly and I always hoped that U and she wd get 2gether."  "Close calls"?  That makes it sound as tho NE1 other than the Antman wda been a disaster just cuz Mom and Dad had their stoopid hearts set on Anthony.  Anthony, of course, went "thank U."  He must know Mom and Dad have been pimping him 2 Liz 4evs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad left silhouette and did the usual "sales" job re. Anthony.  He sed, "U're a hard worker, sensible, kind, a dedicated father....  U'll B a wonderful husband!"  Then apparently, they simul-thought-bubbled, "Or else."  Really?  Is this a real concern?  Are they actually acknowledging that Anthony was NOT a "wonderful husband" 2 Thérèse?  Nah, no1 in this circle ever admits &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and as U mite know, Mike got erased!  C Dee's &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/dad-trains-anthony-in-ways-of-patterson.html#c2371948269496156048"&gt;comment&lt;/a&gt; from yesterday.  Mike has no sense of who not 2 mess with!  NEway, Mom was on the fone early this morning.  I heard her end of the convo, where she was saying, "U have 2 bring back Mike!  Yes, redraw him!  Come on, you know he's your favourite as well as mine!  Yes, U can teach him a lesson up there in Corbeil before U send him down here, just redraw him.  Yes, I understand it's not his place 2 tell yr employees that they shd B looking 4 work, nor mocking their 'cease and desist' orders.  Of course, they should be taken seriously.  Yes, I understand.  Gerald is no longer to be considered April's future husband.  Frankly, John and I have never liked that boy and we've always secretly hoped April wd get him out of her system and move on 2 sum1 else.  We never sed so because we thought 'childhood sweethearts as Patterson destiny' was the rule now.  Yes, yes, do what U need 2 do, just get me my boy back!"  Mom hung up the fone and sobbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sed, "U really don't want me 2 end up w/Ger NEmore?"  Mom sed, "Nope."  I sed, "He doesn't remind U of Anthony NEmore?"  Mom sed, "Not even a little bit.  I hope this doesn't mean U're going 2 want 2 get back 2gether w/him just 2 B a rebellious teenager type."  And I sed, "No, I just wish U'd sed all this stuff B4 so Mike wdn't have tortured me w/his constant 'When U marry Gerald' stuff, ignoring me whenev I told him I never will."  And Mom sed, "He did that?"  And when I sed he did, Mom shook her head and sed, "I should have taught him abt letting up on stuff like that, but I never did.  I blame yr father."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, that's all I've got 2 tell U now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5246498807747754105?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5246498807747754105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5246498807747754105' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5246498807747754105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5246498807747754105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/stupid-conversaton-between-dad-and-ant.html' title='A stupid conversaton between Dad and Ant'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1940577439127039475</id><published>2008-07-11T08:52:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-11T09:07:47.534-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Dad trains Anthony in the ways of Patterson Men</title><content type='html'>So, on that same "wedding planning" day I've been telling U abt, Anthony skulked his way in2 our yard, where he found Dad.  Anthony was all, "Hey, Dr. P! --How's it going!"  Dad, who was in the process of winding up the garden hose, was all, "Fine, Anthony!"  Anthony went, "Is Liz around?"  And Dad sed, "She's in the house.  They're going full-tilt on the wedding plans, so I wdn't goin there if I were U."  Oh, no, can't have the menfolk help with the wedding.  Not even the groom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthony asked, "Is there a problem?  And Dad responded, "It's a wedding!  There's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ALWAYS&lt;/span&gt; a problem!  Sumthing's not rite here, a dress doesn't fit there, ppl haven't responded, the caterer's out of town..."  Hm, I dunno Y Anthony needs Dad 2 school him in the ways of weddings.  It's not like Anthony hasn't ever had 1.  Anthony sed, "MayB we shd just elope."  And Dad went, "What?  ...And spoil all the run?!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever.  I guess it's more "fun" if U insist on witnessing it from afar and let the "ladies" 2 all the wedding stuff.  Shut up, Dad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1940577439127039475?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1940577439127039475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1940577439127039475' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1940577439127039475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1940577439127039475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/dad-trains-anthony-in-ways-of-patterson.html' title='Dad trains Anthony in the ways of Patterson Men'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-130362620020308809</id><published>2008-07-10T06:57:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-10T07:10:40.508-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Lifetime commitment to wine</title><content type='html'>Liz and Mom went out 2 the back deck and sat in the same spot where Mom had been sitting when she lost her patience (ha!).  Liz had poorly rendered bare feet, while Mom had what looked like mutant hooves.  Liz sed, "I just wanted it 2 B simple, Mom.  No big deal!  But it's still so...."  Mom interrupted w/"I know, dear."  2 bad.  I wonder how Liz would have ended that sentence.  Mom went on w/"Every1 gets tense when they're planning a wedding.  There R so many details--and besides, it's not just a party!  It's an enormous decision.  U're making a lifetime commitment 2 someone... 2 build a future and a family w/him... 2 B faithful and loving and honest and strong.  This is a major turning pt in yr life!"  Liz got this staring, gobsmacky look on her face, and cd've sworn she heard a southern-USA accent saying, "Darlin', quit it w/that Dixie face U Pattersons get when U have that 'looking-in-the camera' expression."  Mom thot she saw a dashing man passing through the yard just then, 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, after Mom sed that bit abt "turning pt," Liz looked @ Mom and sed, "Shd we put wine on the table?  ...Or have it served?"  Then Mike came out the back door (holding a milk bag he wanted 2 "borrow") and sed, "No!  If U're going 2 say 'wine,' U have 2 make a pun.  On 'wine' and 'whine.'  How can U pass up a pun-opportunity like that?"  And Liz sed, "Go away, Ugly brother!  U have no idea how stressful this is 4 me!  U got 2 sit back and let Mira plan yr wedding!  I have 2 do everything myself!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;AUUUGHHHH&lt;/span&gt;!"  And Mike ran away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, thanks 4 coming over last nite so we cd &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/moms-in2-recycling-u-know.html#c3726718758906327618"&gt;hold ea other up&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-130362620020308809?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/130362620020308809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=130362620020308809' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/130362620020308809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/130362620020308809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/lifetime-commitment-to-wine.html' title='Lifetime commitment to wine'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5640359755925185466</id><published>2008-07-09T06:28:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-09T06:57:59.176-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Mom's in2 recycling, U know.....</title><content type='html'>On that same day that I went 2 the beach w/Eva and Vicki, and that Mom was losing her patience, I made the mistake of trying 2 get Liz 2 chill.  She had her elbows on the table, holding her head w/both hands.  She had the wedding binder open 2 the page that featured her wearing her gown, and had a pamphlet, a magazine, a list, a pencil, and a cup on the table, 2.  I put a hand on her left shoulder and the other on the scruff of her neck, while saying, "Lighten up, sis!  U've got a whole month 2 go!"  And Liz stoop up, grabbed her cup, and sed, "That's EZ 4 U 2 say!  U can take off 2 the beach w/yr buddies!  U can sit an' watch TV!  U're not totally responsible 4 a major event here!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz put her cup on the counter and I splayed one hand @ my sternum, Patterson style, and sed, "That's not fair!  I'm helping!  I'm in charge of the flowers, remember?!  I addressed all the invitations!  I'm making the table decorations!!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom had skulked in2 the room as I was saying that last bit, and we suddenly all went &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"AAAGHH!!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; in unison, while reach our arms @ one another.  Then we threw our arms around one another, and Dad showed up, all, "Group hug?"  And Mom went, "No... We're holding each other up!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought, "Huh, that sounds really familiar. " Then I realized that Mom used that same concept when she and Moira Kinney hugged back in &lt;a href="http://www.fborfw.com/strip_fix/archives/001629.php"&gt;February of 2006&lt;/a&gt;, rite after Mom agreed 2 sell the store 2 Moira.  I know Mom says she prides herself on recycling, but there is no environmental benefit 2 reusing yr "jokes."  Just boredom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5640359755925185466?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5640359755925185466/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5640359755925185466' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5640359755925185466'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5640359755925185466'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/moms-in2-recycling-u-know.html' title='Mom&apos;s in2 recycling, U know.....'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4635775282843974111</id><published>2008-07-08T06:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-08T07:07:02.169-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bwuh?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Going/Gone</title><content type='html'>W8 a minute.  What?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, @ sum pt during all the reminiscing over the past couple of wks, Mom and Liz decided on a d8 &amp;amp; location and sent out invitations.  I still have no idea when the wedding is, cuz no1 tells me NEthing.  I hope it's not gonna B a day when I've already got plans!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, here's what happened.  Liz was @ our kitchen table, hunched over her papers, while Mom filled yet another mug of coffee.  Liz asked, "Have NE more RSVPs come in, Mom?"  And Mom sed, "Yes, but we're missing abt 10."  Liz, looking a lot like Meredith 4 a moment, went, "I hope they respond soon.  I have 2 tell the caterers how many meals 2 prepare."    Oh, that's EZ.  Pretend all 10 will B there.  If they don't show, Mom will eat their meals.  NEway, Mom and Liz went in2 silhouette a moment B4 Liz sed, "Y do ppl w8 'til the last minute?  How can we plan this if we don't know..."  ::snerk::  Pot.  Kettle.  Liz.  I mean, isn't this wedding being "planned" @ the last minute?  But Mom didn't say that, instead, she sed, "Relax, honey!"  Liz and Mom unsilhouetted, and Liz went, &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" &gt;"I CAN'T!"&lt;/span&gt;  This caused Mom not only 2 get a gobsmacked look on her face, but also 2 lose most of her forehead, so it became at best a .5-head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom went outside 2 the back deck, placed her coffee cup behind her, shrunk, put a spindly rite hand on her rite knee, her left elbow on her left knee, and held her .5-head w/her left hand, mayB wondering how 2 reclaim it.  Dad, also shrunken, put his left leg on the bottom step, so he was kinda lunging, and asked Mom, "How's it goin' Hon?"  And Mom went, "If U're talking abt my patience .... it's gone."  Dad sed, "'Patience' was not the referent of 'it,' and you know it, Elly.  Don't play dumb 4 bad wordplay."  OK, he didn't say that, but wdn't it have been cool if he had?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4635775282843974111?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4635775282843974111/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4635775282843974111' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4635775282843974111'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4635775282843974111'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/goinggone.html' title='Going/Gone'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7069002742044098767</id><published>2008-07-07T06:17:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T06:29:23.281-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Liz is in a pissy mood</title><content type='html'>Liz has been @ our TTH a lot, planning her wedding.  Just the other day, Liz was sitting @ a table fuming, and I asked her what she was so upset abt.  She was like, "April, U just cannot understand how stressful it is 2 plan a wedding!  I have 2 make all these decisions!  I can't just say, 'Whatever comes is OK w/me.'"  I have 2 make definite, distinct choices.  It's horrible, April!  Horrible!  I should be allowed 2 let faith and f8 decide all this 4 me, but I'm NOT!"  She burst in2 tears, so I asked her if there was NEthing I cd do 2 help.  And she sed, "YES!  Get out of my FACE and stay out of the way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I called Eva and Vicki Simone, and we went 2 the beach.  When I got back, Mom was all, "April, we're working on the wedding! --I thot U were going 2 help!"  And I sed, "I was helping!"  Then Mom and I went 2 where Liz was hunched over that table, fuming again, and I sed, "...I was staying out of the way."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, if U C a pic of Emma Sue Jenkins, and sum1 tells U it's my Grandma Marian, do NOT go along with it!  Grandma Marian looked like Mom, only older.  Emma Sue Jenkins looks kinda like the Granny in Looney Tunes, the one who has Tweety Bird as a pet.  There is a disinformation campaign, which we think originates in Corbeil, 2 get ppl 2 believe Emma Sue Jenkins = Marian Richards.  NO!  We must resist!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, I think it's awful how peeps R trying 2 &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/blogging-from-beyond.html#c3924377406833414861"&gt;confuse&lt;/a&gt; my poor Grandpa Jim abt Grandma Marian!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7069002742044098767?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7069002742044098767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7069002742044098767' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7069002742044098767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7069002742044098767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/liz-is-in-pissy-mood.html' title='Liz is in a pissy mood'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2678006704874843844</id><published>2008-07-06T07:27:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-06T17:06:14.403-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='continuity'/><title type='text'>Blogging from Beyond</title><content type='html'>Hello, April Patterson's readers.  This is the Ghost of Grandma Marian, hacking into April's account.  Normally, we ghosts are urged not too interfere too much in the lives of the living, but sometimes a spirit just gets fed up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, my daughter Elly and granddaughter Elizabeth went to the home of my grandson Michael and his wife Deanna, so that Liz could try on "my" dress, after Deanna's alterations.  I commented here before to say that I don't know whose dress that is, but it ain't mine!  My dress had a high collar, buttons up the front, mutton-chop sleeves, and no lace.  It fit in perfectly with my image as a veteran of the Royal Canadian Air Force.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, Liz put on this dress that looks like something you can pick up off the rack at any bridal store today, and she stood up on a block that Dee had placed for her.  Dee was pinning the hem, and Elly was kneeling in such a way that, for a moment, I thought she'd lost her legs.  Then I saw one pathetic little heel of hers peeking awkwardly behind the swath of white fabric she was holding aloft, and I knew she still had legs, only they were poorly attached.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next thing I knew, Dee was pulling at Liz's bodice, pins in mouth, as Elly held the pin cushion and Liz had an incongruously smug expression on her face.  Maybe it was the novelty of being "felt up."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz continued to look smug, closing her eyes and posing as if a photographer from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Modern Bride&lt;/span&gt; were in the room, and Elly said, "You've done a wonderful job on this dress, Deanna!"  And Deanna said, "Thanks, Elly!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz opened her eyes as Dee tugged at the waist line and said, "It sure was hard to cut the fabric.  I kept wondering what your Mom would think."  And Elly said, "My mother would have loved to see her wedding dress worn again."  I guess that's true.  I wonder where it is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elly told Liz, "Turn around again, please, Elizabeth."  And Liz twirled about while saying, "Like this?"  Elly said, "Yes... I think she'd have been very happy.  And if she was here right now....  She'd be helping you to try it on."  I was about to say, "No, Elly, it's 'if she &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;were&lt;/span&gt; here right now,'" when suddenly I saw another ghost, a plump, cheerful, stereotypical 'grandma' type, holding a ghostly veil aloft, as if she were about to place it on top of my granddaughter's head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Naturally, I had to intervene.  I tackled her and said, "Who the heck are you?"  She said, "Why, I'm Emma Sue Jenkins!  I used to live just down the street, when I was alive that is.  I love weddings!  I used to crash every single wedding in Milborough, and no one ever stopped me, because I was a sweet old lady and they figured I knew someone.  I think this veil would look lovely on your granddaughter."  I said, "Don't be stupid.  You can't put a ghost-veil on a living bride!  Didn't you read the manual?"  Emma Sue got up, dusted herself off with her ghost-veil, and said, "Hmph!  I'll find another wedding to get involved with!"  And she passed through the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, as Elly bathed in the claw-footed tub that's in the basement of their new house (the space that's supposed to be April's), I stood to one side and judged her.  What kind of a mother is she, spreading lies that April's been picking flowers from the neighbourhood gardens, just so she can simultaneously get April out of the house (to use the tub) and also cover for that no-good son of hers, whom she never taught you should never steal flowers from people's gardens?  I'm going to judge her some more after I wrap up this entry for you all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cordially yours,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ghost of Grandma Marian&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2678006704874843844?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2678006704874843844/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2678006704874843844' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2678006704874843844'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2678006704874843844'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/blogging-from-beyond.html' title='Blogging from Beyond'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5811443747857152167</id><published>2008-07-05T09:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-05T09:05:54.891-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Michael and Moral Relativism</title><content type='html'>Uch, mayB if we R v. v. good, we will get in2 present-day stories this coming week, eh?  Meanwhile, Mike has more 2 &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/cleaning-rooms-and-pouring-milk-in-1979.html#c5773654888889213936"&gt;share&lt;/a&gt; from the boring past:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. I was in the middle of my writing today, when my children came into my sacred writing area of retreat and asked me a question. Normally, if they do this and they are not obviously bleeding, I ignore them until they go away. However, on this occasion they were asking a question of moral importance, so I decided it was important to stop my writing to listen to their question. I said, “What is your question again?” My daughter said, “For the 10th time Daddy, Gramma Elly took a case of food out of the back of Mr. Singh’s store and she didn’t pay for it. Isn’t that wrong?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, “I want you to know that you can’t go taking food from someone’s store—it’s very wrong. However, in the case of Mr. Singh’s store, there are few good reasons why we can take from there. First of all, we’ve taken food from Mr. Singh’s store before.” My kids said, “We did?” And then I regaled my kids with the story about your taking food from Mr. Singh when you were younger and how you eventually paid him back, so it was all right you took the food in the first place. I would say more about this story, but it did not happen in 1979.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, “Second of all, there are many people who are going to make contributions to your Auntie Elizabeth and future Uncle Anthony’s wedding. What you saw was probably your Gramma Elly taking food for the wedding.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I continued, “In fact, children, I have a story from 1979 when I learned all about this.” My children groaned, and this is the story I told them:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once when I was little, we had a neighbour named Mrs. Baird. She had a garden of prize-winning flowers. One day when my mom, your Gramma Elly, was not feeling good, I picked some of the flowers to give to her to make her feel better. She said, “Flowers! –Thank you, Michael!—Where did you find them?” I said, “Well, I sort of …er…got them from Mrs. Baird’s place.” I think mom thought I might have gotten them from some public park or a botanical garden or something like that. She said to me, “You can’t go taking flowers from people’s gardens, Honey---It’s very wrong. You must &lt;b&gt;NEVER&lt;/b&gt; do it again! But if you do---try and leave on the stem.” I said to my kids, "Do you understand the meaning behind my story from 1979?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My son said, “Don’t eat stem!” My daughter said, “It’s OK to steal!! Yay!!” I said, “No! No! No! Mrs. Baird had given us flowers &lt;i&gt;before&lt;/i&gt; for me to give to Gramma Elly when she wasn’t feeling good. That’s why Gramma Elly knew it was OK for me to do it again.” My daughter said, “You left that part out.” I said, “Goodness. Read between the lines.” My daughter said, “OK. Gramma Elly got pastries for Auntie Liz’s wedding. Yay!!” My son went “Yay! Pastries!!” also.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes it can be difficult to tell morality stories to young children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Esp. when the stories lack morality!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, I got yr txt message and I can def. help U and yr mom 2day.  What time do U want me 2 come over?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5811443747857152167?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5811443747857152167/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5811443747857152167' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5811443747857152167'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5811443747857152167'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/michael-and-moral-relativism.html' title='Michael and Moral Relativism'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1348818550038550882</id><published>2008-07-04T07:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-04T07:27:01.083-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Cleaning rooms and pouring milk in 1979</title><content type='html'>Mike &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/gross-food-in-past.html#c6592978570090553343"&gt;found another reason&lt;/a&gt; 2 share a story from 1979:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. Just the other day with my kids, I was pouring milk from a milk bag, when they asked me how it was that I learned to do that. Well, April, after having told my children so many stories from 1979, I was surprised that they would actually ask for one. I said, “Well, kids, to answer your question, I will have to tell you another story from 1979.” My children groaned, but allowed me to go ahead. This is the story I told:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back in 1979, our mother was notorious for cleaning my room and Elizabeth’s room, because she was very fastidious and she didn’t trust anyone else to clean the rooms like she wanted them to be cleaned. By and large we stayed out of her way when she was in a cleaning mood. She would pick up my Super Teddy sans cape, and would mutter to herself “If women resent their position, they have only themselves to blame.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My children immediately said, “What does that mean Daddy?” I said, “Well kids, back in 1979, there were these things called feminists. They would like to say things which got women confused, like whether or not it was better to have a job or to be a mommy to be both. What it means is that if you didn’t want to be a mommy or a worker or both of those things; then you didn’t have to. And if you were a mommy or a worker or both of those things, and you didn’t want to be, it was your own fault, because you picked it in the first place.” My daughter said, “Did you pick to be a daddy, ‘cause mommy says you didn’t?” I replied, “Mommy’s right. But these things only apply to girls. Boys have to be both a worker and a daddy.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continued on, “Then my mother would sometimes mutter, ‘If men were only taught as boys to do things for themselves…this problem wouldn’t exist…’” My son said, “Huh?” I said, “Exactly! This was confusing to me too, when I was 5 years old. But then an amazing thing happened to me that made it all clear.” My children said, “What?” I said, “I went to my mother and said, ‘Hey, mom…could you get me a glass of milk?” and she said, “Sure, Mike…as soon as I get your room cleaned up.” This was basically the same thing as saying, “No”. I thought it might mean that she wanted me to clean my room; but she was in a cleaning mood, so I knew it meant for me to get out of the way and get the milk myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had never gotten milk by myself, because I was afraid of the milk bags. I had been my entire life, all 5 years of it. But then, thanks to my mom, I was going to have to get a glass of milk by myself. This is how you do it:” and I demonstrated with a milk bag, a milk jug and a pair of scissors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Step 1: Put milk bag into the milk jug.&lt;br /&gt;Step 2: Snip the corner of the bag by holding the very corner and using scissors&lt;br /&gt;Step 3: Pour the milk into the glass.&lt;br /&gt;Step 4: Drink milk.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My kids were amazed. I said, “And that, children, is how to do that, learned all by myself; because mom was busy cleaning my room.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;So, Mike, did U ever learn 2 clean yr own room, or did U just let that B Dee's job once U got married?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy 4th of July 2 my U.S.A. readers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1348818550038550882?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1348818550038550882/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1348818550038550882' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1348818550038550882'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1348818550038550882'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/cleaning-rooms-and-pouring-milk-in-1979.html' title='Cleaning rooms and pouring milk in 1979'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5466810504821453041</id><published>2008-07-03T07:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T07:08:59.031-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Gross food in the past</title><content type='html'>Poor Merrie and Robin.  Mike &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/cement-of-yesteryear.html#c433826956940993428"&gt;used 1979/80 Patterson "food"&lt;/a&gt; 2 teach his kids sum kind of cruel lesson:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. Just the other day, I heard my children complain about how they were constantly subjected to carrots as a part of their daily diet. They whined, they complained, they caterwauled and made all kinds of obscene gestures in my direction. All I could do was laugh and laugh, because I knew that, if they experienced the kinds of meals to which I was subjected in my youth, they would embrace carrots joyfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I told them, “Kids. I have heard your complaints about carrot coins, and I have decided that you should have a meal I had when I was growing up.” My children said, “Gramma Elly food?” And I said, “Even better. Gramma Elly food she used to make back in 1979.” My children moaned, “No! Not another flashback!” But, of course, I couldn’t make the meal from 1979, without telling my story from 1979. This is the story I told, as I made them their meal of liver and spinach.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, “One day I was eating and making noises like this:  &lt;b&gt;CHEW&lt;/b&gt; GULP! Gobble &lt;b&gt;CHOMP&lt;/b&gt; Glut!” My children laughed and said, “Just like Gramma Elly!” I said, “Not only was I slurping and drooling, but my cheeks were stuffed with food and my drink was all over the table.” My children said, “Hooray! Gramma Elly food!!” I said, “Not only that but my drink spill moved on the table, my food moved on my plate, and plate kept changing sizes.” My children said, “Yay!! Gramma Elly food that moves!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I said, “My mother, your Gramma Elly, came over to me and said, ‘Where are your manners, Michael! You’re eating like a pig!! Now &lt;b&gt;SLOW DOWN!&lt;/b&gt;’” My children said, “Where were your manners?” I said, “They were right there. I was eating in the style that all Pattersons eat, except for your Auntie April who likes to pretend she is better than we are. And you will note I used an exclamation point instead of a question mark, so you would know it was a rhetorical question. Gramma Elly asks a lot of those.” My children said, “Huh?” I said, “Questions you are not supposed to try to answer.” My children said, “Oh! Those!” My daughter said, “So Gramma Elly said you were eating like a pig and you should slow down.” I said, “That’s right. We Pattersons may be gross and disgusting slobs when it comes to eating; but we do not eat quickly like pigs do.” My son said, “Eat slow and slobber.” I said, “That’s right son. Eat slow and slobber. That’s the Patterson way.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My daughter said, “So why did you eat fast?” I said, “You will find out with this meal I am making you, the very meal my mother served me that day.” I sat the meal of liver and spinach down before them. They looked hungrily at it, since no part of portion of it looked orange or carroty. As they started eating, they slobbered, they guzzled and they got faster and faster. I said to them, “My explanation to my mother for my speed you should know by now. ‘But it’s liver and spinach, Ma!...If I slow down, I’ll &lt;b&gt;TASTE &lt;/b&gt;it!!’” My children began to realize with horror in their eyes the truth of my statement. They wolfed down their meals in rapid succession and immediately ran to the washroom where I heard the harsh sounds of wisdom issuing from their young throats and stomachs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said to them, “I trust there is no problem with carrot coins tomorrow, eh?”  My children said, “No, Dad.”  Lesson learned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Ick.  Cdn't U have just told them, instead of getting them 2 eat that slop?  'Course I really don't understand Y they (and U) wd react by eating it fast, instead of just refusing 2 eat it.  Like most kids!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, U R &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/cement-of-yesteryear.html#c5740081397755522078"&gt;rite abt the socks&lt;/a&gt;.  I wondered Y my shoes didn't feel rite.  I'll return yr socks 2 U when we get 2thether this evening, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5466810504821453041?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5466810504821453041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5466810504821453041' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5466810504821453041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5466810504821453041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/gross-food-in-past.html' title='Gross food in the past'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2674503970703838032</id><published>2008-07-02T06:28:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T06:35:34.271-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><title type='text'>The cement of yesteryear</title><content type='html'>Mike has sum more &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/mikes-burps-and-braacks-long-time-ago.html#c6895507564469799323"&gt;sharing&lt;/a&gt; 2 do abt a long time ago:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. We were talking at the Canada Day celebration about how you were still waiting for Dad to finish out your basement space to live, and it occurred to me that Dad did, at one time, actually build things around the house which were not related to model trains. One time in particular I remember was when he decided to put in a concrete sidewalk. I had asked him to help out, but was told I was too little. Needless to say, when I saw what Dad had done with the concrete, it cried out for a little artistry. Even then I had to feed my muse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My muse on that day was hungry for a few good footprints and handprints and the letter “M” for “Muse” in different sizes. Admittedly it was an early attempt of art; but anything would have been better than the flat boring concrete sidewalk Dad had put in. I left my work unsigned so Dad would have to figure out exactly which budding artist in the neighbourhood had so coolly decorated it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He stared at it for awhile with his trowel in hand and his other hand in his hair, pondering the mysteries of art. Dad was not stupid though. He figured out I was the artist, and grabbed me by his right arm, which for some strange reason had a left hand on it that day. Dad was also wearing cowboy chaps, which still does not make sense to me. But the most disturbing part to me was that he had discovered the identity of the artist and was not pleased by my artistic improvements. As I was being grabbed, I said, “How did you know it was &lt;b&gt;ME&lt;/b&gt;?”  In retrospect, I should have asked for constructive artistic criticism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have since learned that I have a certain style, a certain “je ne sais quoi” that colours the timbre of my work, making it clear when something comes from the artistic stylings of Michael Patterson. But back then, it was a mystery to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Mike, I asked Dad abt yr story.  He sed, "Oh, yes, I remember that.  Yr brother was such a scamp!  I figured that those 'M's' stood for 'Mike' and also that that was just xxactly the kind of thing Mike wd do.  It didn't take a detective!"  I sed, "It wasn't his artistic stylings that tipped U off?"  Dad laffed and sed, "I C U've gotten Michael's version of events.  Ha-ha-ha!  'Artistic stylings'!  W8'll I tell the model-train club abt this!"  And he wandered off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, that was so much fun @ the Canada Day celebration last nite!  It's a shame what happed 2 Ger.  Do U think we shd visit him @ the hospital this evening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2674503970703838032?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2674503970703838032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2674503970703838032' title='17 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2674503970703838032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2674503970703838032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/cement-of-yesteryear.html' title='The cement of yesteryear'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>17</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2396878925131959647</id><published>2008-07-01T06:47:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T06:52:59.321-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Mike's Burps and Braacks a Long Time Ago</title><content type='html'>Did U know Mike's been burping for decades?  Did U care?  I thought not, but we R still on flashbacks, and Mike &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/strange-disturbing-musings-from-my-bro.html#c4984015488534491369"&gt;is on2&lt;/a&gt; burps from days of yore:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. Just the other day I thought I was alone and after drinking a particularly bubbly glass of pop, I decided to see if I could still burp the way I used to when I was 5. I must say, that even in my 30s, I still have it. However, my wife, the lovely Deanna, felt the need to track me down and inform me that I was not to make those disgusting noises, in case I set a bad example for my children. It reminded me of a very similar incident from when I was 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was wearing a Hawaii shirt, and I had just clipped the fingernail of my right thumb so it was especially square. Then I drank from my Fizzo Pop can a good drink of carbonated delight. With my tongue out, as if I were laughing, I said, “Burp..Burp…Burp! {A triple lead-in.} BRAAACK!” complete with drops and bubbles. It was quite stupendous. Mom came up to me and said, “Michael! You are &lt;b&gt;not&lt;/b&gt; to make those disgusting noises!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she took my pop can from me and said, “I don’t want to hear that again…do you understand?” Down and dejected, I went to pick dandelions with Lawrence Poirier, and lie in the grass and look deep into his eyes and discuss my troubles as 5-year-olds are wont to do. I said to Lawrence, “Gosh, Lawrence—How can a guy get good at something if they don’t let you practice?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a younger and more innocent age, and of course I know the answer to that question now that I am older. The answer is university and beer. That is where I honed my burping skills. I can recommend it to you. I certainly hope you will develop that as a skill instead of doing as Elizabeth did in university, where she tended toward developing the skill for getting hangovers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Mike, I think the burps and hangovers both seem unappealing.  I'll come up w/my own stuff 2 do during uni.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patrickrsghost, sorry abt that &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/strange-disturbing-musings-from-my-bro.html#c6735072290998975661"&gt;scary experience&lt;/a&gt; U had c-ing yr friend's grandma.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2396878925131959647?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2396878925131959647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2396878925131959647' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2396878925131959647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2396878925131959647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/07/mikes-burps-and-braacks-long-time-ago.html' title='Mike&apos;s Burps and Braacks a Long Time Ago'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7933185320543929283</id><published>2008-06-30T06:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-30T06:42:35.118-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><title type='text'>Strange, Disturbing Musings from My Bro</title><content type='html'>I M sorry 2 have 2 tell U this, but it looks like we R not dun w/those flashbacks we were in all of this past wk.  We may B in 4 a whole 2nd week!  Here's what Mike had 2 say in a &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/mike-has-random-story-from-past.html#c378223164095372372"&gt;comment&lt;/a&gt; last nite:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. Just the other day, I had wondered why it is that Josef Weeder is my best friend instead of Lawrence Poirier, since Lawrence and I grew up together. It's not the reason that everyone suspects, i.e. Lawrence picked Nicholas Browne over me. (I get very tired of explaining that this is not the reason.) Actually, it started at a very early age.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember one time when I was sitting on my front stoop outdoors with Lawrence. I was very distressed over something that had happened with my mother. I said, "All I have to do is &lt;b&gt;LOOK&lt;/b&gt; at my mom and she gets mad!" I thought this sterling description was sufficient to get Lawrence's sympathy. After all, his mother was Connie Poirier, and who wants to look at her seven shades of ugly? But no! Lawrence didn't believe me. He said, "Honest, Mike? You were just lookin' at her?" I was shocked that Lawrence did not trust me. I think this was the first time I realized that Lawrence and I would not agree on everything, like Josef and I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, to better describe my case to Lawrence, I added, "Yeah. She was in the bath at the time." I thought this would put it over with Lawrence, but instead he looked at me and started mumbling something about how he would do whatever it took to avoid seeing Elly Patterson naked."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I told the same story to Josef Weeder, his response was very different from Lawrence's. He talked about how he often snuck into his mother's washroom when she was taking a bath, to look at her. That's one of the things about Josef and me. Our experiences are so similar, I often feel like we are the same person broken apart only by our different choices in career.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Uh....  Yeah.  Mike an' Weed.  Peas in a pod.  I think I need 2 change the subject, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I start my job @ the vet clinic 2day.  Weird, it seems 2 me my job will B a lot like one I had when I was eight, @ an animal shelter.  Check what I wrote in my &lt;a href="http://web.archive.org/web/20000304024301/www.fborfwathome.com/char_pgs/april_letter.html"&gt;monthly letter&lt;/a&gt; back in March of 2000:  &lt;blockquote&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;The[y] paid me 10 dollars                  at the animal shelter for cleaning out cages but I didn't want                  to get paid so me and Alex (another kid who comes with me) went                  and bought treats for the animals. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;               &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS, Arial;font-size:85%;"&gt;We have 3 dogs, 2                  puppies and lots of kittens (in the adoption part) and there's                  about 6 pets who are lost and waiting for their owners. One is                  really sad and they don't have collars or identification things.                  Dr. Gillan who is the vet thinks people aren't looking for them.                  So I don't know what will happen. We play with them a bit, but                  we don't take them out because they are too big, so some volunteers                  from the highschool help out too. I like working at the animal                  shelter!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Only this time, I'm totally gonna let them pay me.  I need the $$$!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7933185320543929283?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7933185320543929283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7933185320543929283' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7933185320543929283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7933185320543929283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/strange-disturbing-musings-from-my-bro.html' title='Strange, Disturbing Musings from My Bro'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1181715964209446131</id><published>2008-06-29T07:45:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-29T07:53:49.017-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duncan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Mike has a random story from the past</title><content type='html'>Sadly, we R still in reminiscing.  This time, Mike has a story 4 U, which he posted l8 last nite:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. Just the other day, as I caught my son trying to eat the telephone, I was reminded of a story of my past when I was just a little older than he was and I had to deal with the telephone. I said, “Son, I remember when I was just a little older than you are and I had to deal with the telephone.” In preparation for my story, his eyes took on an absent look, waiting for a reminiscence of great meaning to fill his young, small brain. This is the story I told:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was lying on the floor, playing with Legos, as I usually did with my right hand bearing a strong resemblance to the letter Q and wearing those special pants mom made for me where she mismeasured the inseam so the crotch was about at my knee. I loved those pants. They were great whenever I wanted to play a merman. I loved the mermen. They always had naked chests and they never wore sea shells like the mermaids did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On this occasion, I heard the sound “RRINGG!” Naturally I knew this was the phone and not the front door. I picked it up and said, “Hello?” I remember this was especially difficult, because my right arm had chosen that particular time to mutate my wrist and arm to look a little like a fried chicken leg. Little Lizzie must have thought the same thing because she headed toward me with hunger in her eyes. Let me tell you there is nothing worse than having a fried chicken leg-shaped arm, being gnawed on by a nearly toothless, younger sister. I had to deflect her assault somehow. The person on the other end of the line said, “May I speak to Elly Patterson?” I said, “No, she’s outside right now.—Wanna talk to my baby sister?” Then I handed the phone to Lizzie and the attack was deflected. Mission accomplished.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lizzie took the phone out of my hand and with her massive, muscular, beefy arms; and said very clearly, “Glah? Da-da-da? COOKIE! Num-num!” I remember well thinking that this might be one of the most articulate moments of her life, and that has proven to be the case. However, the person on the other end of the phone didn’t think so, and he yelled out “*!!{Saturn}@*” at Lizzie. Lizzie was taken aback by the geometric shapes and took her head away from the phone receiver. I took this opportunity to take the phone back from Lizzie. She was upset when I did this and grabbed at the wire on the phone and turned red in the face. Interestingly enough, she did not start screaming until later, so I was able to speak again to the person on the other line. I had hoped to learn more geometric symbols; but the man became strangely quiet, and said he wanted to talk to mom again. I said, “Yeah? You still want wanna talk to her? OK--”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was the tricky part. Mom had told me not to leave Lizzie alone; but the man on the phone wanted to speak to Mom. How could I get Mom and still not leave Lizzie alone? Brilliantly smart as I was, the answer soon came to me. I held the phone away from my mouth, and yelled, “MAAH” as loud as I could, in order to get her attention from the outside. As I put the phone receiver to my head to tell the man I had called for Mom, I was surprised by a few things:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I heard a “CLICK” sound which either meant the man hung up or he had started to speak Xhosa, that African language that uses clicking sounds to talk.&lt;br /&gt;2.  I suddenly realized that the phone receiver was bigger than my head. &lt;br /&gt;3.  I suddenly realized that the sleeves on my shirt were no longer the same length. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom heard my cry and came in with sweat upon her brow, and gardening gloves and a gardening trowel in her hands. I held the phone up to her with both hands in supplication and said, “It’s for you.” I was afraid of what would happen when she discovered the man on the other end of the phone had hung up. Fortunately, Mom is not nearly as accurate with a gardening trowel as she is with a coffee cup.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was the lesson my son learned from me that day. Sure enough it worked. No longer does he try to the eat the phone. But he has developed a certain predilection for garden trowels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;I guess that was supposta B a lesson in how not 2 answer the fone, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, l8 yesterday, the squat got raided!  Zenia is convinced that "the guy w/the phallic nose and ridiculous ponytail across the street dropped the dime on us."  Cd B.  Weed is awfully worried abt property values.  NEway, I called Jeremy from the jail and his Mom was so cube abt bailing me out.   Dunc insisted on staying cuz "street cred," Eva refused 2 leave his side, and Zenia sed she had 2 stay cuz of her secret "exposé" she's writing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I M back @ Jeremy's and he's trying 2 talk me outta being further involved in what Dunc's got going in TO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1181715964209446131?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1181715964209446131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1181715964209446131' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1181715964209446131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1181715964209446131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/mike-has-random-story-from-past.html' title='Mike has a random story from the past'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1371415594281083785</id><published>2008-06-28T08:09:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-28T11:38:46.220-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duncan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Jungles vs. Zoos in the Distant Past</title><content type='html'>OK, prolly the last day of this run of flashbacks we've been in.  Sumthing abt little Mike making animal noises 2 entertain baby Nizzie, and Dad coming home saying, "Whew!  What a day...  Elly, it's a jungle out there."  And Mike making more of his animal noises.  And Mom saying, "I'll trade U 4 the zoo in here."  Whatevs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, still in TO.  Eva and I have been trying 2 get Dunc 2 leave the squat where he's been staying w/Zenia and various squatters, across the st from Weed &amp;amp; Carleen's place.  Duncan's been claiming Zenia needs his help, but Zenia was saying she was up 2 sumthing "top secret."  All mysterioso-like.  Zandra tried 2 warn him not 2 get sucked in2 one of her schemes, but he's not listening.  Just this morning, I overheard Zenia whispering urgently abt how she's in grave danger cuz [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;name removed @ Zenia's insistence&lt;/span&gt;] wants 2 have her killed.  She "knows 2 much."  Including sumthing abt what [he] looks like naked.  ::shudder::&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1371415594281083785?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1371415594281083785/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1371415594281083785' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1371415594281083785'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1371415594281083785'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/jungles-vs-zoos-in-distant-past.html' title='Jungles vs. Zoos in the Distant Past'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-987791131118071085</id><published>2008-06-27T06:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T06:31:46.981-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duncan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Surviving</title><content type='html'>The flashback I'm ignoring 2day actually picks up from yesterday's.  Mom had sent Mike up 2 his room w/out supper and then was considering bringing him up sum supper.  Dad told her she can't go back on her word like that, and besides, he'd survive a nite w/out supper, and Mom sed that mayB she wdn't.  But obvs. she did.  And apparently she was having a "thin" day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of surviving, Eva and I R still @ the squat where Dunc's been staying.  I can't say that I'd wanna live this way all the time, but w/Jeremy away this wk, @ least it's keeping me occupied.  I just saw Mike show up @ Weed's place when I was looking out the window this morning.  MayB Mike will write in this wkend and say what he's doing there so early on a weekday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-987791131118071085?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/987791131118071085/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=987791131118071085' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/987791131118071085'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/987791131118071085'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/surviving.html' title='Surviving'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4546830487656889659</id><published>2008-06-26T06:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-26T07:05:53.356-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Duncan'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Day 4 of "Who Cares"</title><content type='html'>So the flashback I M currently ignoring has sumthing 2 do w/Mom sending Mike 2 his room 4 being rude, and then regretting that she threatened 2 send him there.  Zzzzzzzz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duncan showed Eva and me how 2 squeegee and we did pretty well w/the money.  I was surprised, but Dunc sed, "Yeah, the girls always do better."  Zenia claims she's got sum "top-secret assignment" she can't xxplain until after the fact.  We ran in2 Zandra @ a Horny T's, and she was like, "Duncan, don't tell me U've been sucked in by another one of Zenia's stories."  And Dunc was all, "U don't understand."  She kind of gave up, muttering that he has 2 find out the hard way all over again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4546830487656889659?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4546830487656889659/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4546830487656889659' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4546830487656889659'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4546830487656889659'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/day-4-of-who-cares.html' title='Day 4 of &quot;Who Cares&quot;'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-6678111083350410170</id><published>2008-06-25T06:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-25T06:36:52.508-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Wasting time in 30-second bits</title><content type='html'>It seems U R supposed 2 spend 30 seconds caring abt young Mike getting Mom to give him and her friends cookies, so she ends up gazing out the window at them (since they messily eat their cookies rite outside the window) and thinking, "If U don't want pigeons... Don't start feeding them."  U R prolly even supposed 2 notice that she actually has a smile on her face while thinking that, instead of being all pissed off or gobsmacked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But Y wd U do that?  No1 cares abt these random glimpses in2 the past, eh?  Esp. if we dole out our stories 30 secs @ a time.  Whatevs, I M still in Toronto w/Eva and Duncan.  We R trying 2 convince Dunc 2 leave that squat where he's staying, across the st from Weed and Carleen.  He sez he can't leave Zenia rite now, cuz she's going thru a really hard time.  She cdn't stay in residence @ UT over the summer, and all her usual prospects for summer lodging fell thru.  And a bunch of other drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-6678111083350410170?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6678111083350410170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=6678111083350410170' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6678111083350410170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6678111083350410170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/wasting-time-in-30-second-bits.html' title='Wasting time in 30-second bits'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4270261182421970066</id><published>2008-06-24T06:49:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T13:10:28.731-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Bloggoversary'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>U Can Haz Flashbacks</title><content type='html'>But U prolly don't want 'em. Me, neither. I won't bother U w/the icky story abt Mom finding young Mike's used-gum horde on his bed post, but not his sooper-seekrit used-gum stash on his dresser. Yuck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eva and I found Duncan in TO. He's in a squat that's across the street from Mike's old building, which Weed now owns, in that mysterious neighbourhood that's not Rosewood or the Beaches. Oddly, Zenia's staying in the squat, 2. There's a story, there, but I haven't gotten it yet cuz the squatters had a big panic thinking there was abt 2 B a raid. Turned out instead that Weed was trying 2 cook eggs and set off the smoke alarm. Apparently, he installed xxtra-loud ones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Edit:&lt;/strong&gt;  Yesterday was my three-year bloggoversary, and I 4got all abt it cuz of the flashback boredom.  Whee!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4270261182421970066?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4270261182421970066/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4270261182421970066' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4270261182421970066'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4270261182421970066'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/u-can-haz-flashbacks.html' title='U Can Haz Flashbacks'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8781101928218449287</id><published>2008-06-23T06:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-23T06:28:46.126-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>And we're back 2 flashbacks</title><content type='html'>As predicted, Mom reminiscing 2 Connie abt young Mike making her tired has led 2 flashbacks again.  From the 1979-80 era.  2day's is supposta B abt knocking on Mom and Dad's bedroom door, crashing it open, and then saying, "U SAID 2 knock 1st," but U know what?  Who cares?  I'm not doing these flashbacks!  &gt;:-(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Duncan took all of his xxams last wk like he was supposed 2, but then he got all nervous an' scared abt  how he did, and he ran off 2 TO 2 B a squeegie boy again.  Eva and I R going out there 2 try &amp;amp; find him.  Jeremy's away this week @ sum kinda scout thing he's doing 4 community-svc credits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8781101928218449287?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8781101928218449287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8781101928218449287' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8781101928218449287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8781101928218449287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/and-were-back-2-flashbacks.html' title='And we&apos;re back 2 flashbacks'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1016536569717136145</id><published>2008-06-22T07:57:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-22T08:24:43.354-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='embarrassing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Dad's Massage-Chair Ecstasy</title><content type='html'>Since my mom's been 4getting me so much l8ly, I've been staying @ Jeremy's house, tho yesterday it got so bad Jeremy's mom had 2 call mine and remind her I xxist just so I wdn't fade away in2 nothingness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So early this morning, guess who showed up @ their front door looking 4 me?  My dad!  He was all, "Yr Mom told me U were here, April!  Furniture Outlet is having a door buster this morning!  We have 2 B there @ opening 2 get the best deals, and I really want 2 try the Massage O-Matic Wonderseat!"  I sed, "Dad, Rn't those things way, way xxpensive?  And U're semi-retiring.  And planning a wedding.  And promised not 2 touch my uni fund."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad was like, "Trying is free, Buddy!"  Then he grabbed me by the arm and yanked me out, leaving me only able 2 wave @ Jeremy and his mom and stepdad as I got dragged 2 the 'vASSe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got 2 Furniture outlet B4 it opened, and Dad insisted on our plunking ourselves rite in front of the door in case there was a line.  There wasn't.  We had 2 w8 an hr and a half.  Dad told choo-choo jokes the whole time.  My head still hurts.  When we finally got let in, Dad made a B-line 2 the Massage O-Matic Wonderseat, and a salesman helped him get the massage thing started.  That's when the embarrassing started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost rite away, Dad was making these ecstasy faces and noises.  U'd think Mom had brought him a big plate of bacon greaseburgers with a side of Boston creme pies.  He was all, "&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;MMM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);"&gt;MMM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0);"&gt;MMMM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;M&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" and "&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);"&gt;AAAAAAHHH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 255, 51);"&gt;HHHHH&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" and "&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;HOOOOOOOOOOO&lt;/span&gt;" and "WHOAAAAAAAA" and "HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH" and "&lt;span style="color: rgb(102, 255, 153);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OOOOHOOOOOO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;" and "OHHHHH" and "&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;SNIFFFFFFFFAAAAAAA&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The salespeople were pting and laffing, and other customers who had come in were kind of cowering away.  I heard one salesguy say 2 another, "U'd think this guy hadn't gotten NE since 1990!"  And the other sed, "That's John Patterson.  His wife is Elly Patterson."  And then the 1st guy was, like, "Oh.  'Nuff sed."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I went over 2 Dad, all, "&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DAD&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;!  Do U have NE idea how much U R embarrassing me?!!"  He was like, "What?  Oh, M I still here?"  Then the manager came along and made him leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1016536569717136145?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1016536569717136145/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1016536569717136145' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1016536569717136145'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1016536569717136145'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/dads-massage-chair-ecstasy.html' title='Dad&apos;s Massage-Chair Ecstasy'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8925212583924247474</id><published>2008-06-21T08:04:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-21T08:22:14.581-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April who?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bwuh?'/><title type='text'>What's Mom Now--Part-Time or No-Time?</title><content type='html'>More on the stupid-boring gardening convo between Mom an' Connie.  They were putting away the gardening supplies when Connie asked Mom, "Do U really want 2 B a full-time parent again?"  Hearing abt that made me go "BWUH?"  Isn't Mom supposed 2 still B a "full-time parent" 2 ME?  Normal parents don't stop thinking of themselves as "full-time parents" when their youngest is 17 (or really last yr when I turned 16), rite?  I'm not tripping, rite?  B-sides, did a miss a memo abt Mike, Dee, Liz, and Anthony all moving 2 Ecuador and leaving Merrie, Robin, and Francie w/Mom?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gah.  NEway, on 2 Mom's dumb response 2 Connie's dumb question.  Mom dumbly sed, "No.  2 B honest, I just don't have the energy."  [2 remember I xxist.]  Mom went on w/"I used 2 B able 2 chase kids all day, Connie.  Especially Michael.  When my Mom sed she hoped I'd have a child xxactly like I was--she got her wish!"  Wow.  So Grandma Marian was a mean and spiteful old bird.  Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Mom continued, and decided 2 work in the current retcon abt Michael:  "Michael drove me crazy.  But he was smart and funny and I loved him.  ...And when I look back @ it all, he made me what I am 2day."  Connie prompted Mom, with "Proud?  Confident?"  And Mom went 4 her punchline:  "Um... Tired, actually.  Just tired."  Connie did an ugly-faced sticky-outy tongue laff rite on cue.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh-oh ppl.  Look @ this sitch.  It's Saturday.  I just finished telling U a CONNIE story ending w/Mom reminiscing abt chasing Mike and Nizzie when they were little, and how Mike made Mom all kinds of tired.  What does this sound like the prep 4?  Yeah, I'm thinking it, 2.  Prolly a wk's worth of &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;"ZOMG NO!  FLASHBACKS!"&lt;/span&gt;  :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, def movie and pizza.  Wow, I can't believe &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/connie-4got-me-2.html#c1474322201846852068"&gt;Brad Luggsworth's side gig&lt;/a&gt;.  I guess being a cop doesn't pay as much as he'd hoped, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8925212583924247474?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8925212583924247474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8925212583924247474' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8925212583924247474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8925212583924247474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/whats-mom-now-part-time-or-no-time.html' title='What&apos;s Mom Now--Part-Time or No-Time?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7822347608106350525</id><published>2008-06-20T06:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-20T06:38:03.223-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April who?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Connie 4got me, 2!</title><content type='html'>Continuing the convo they had while gardening, Connie pushed the shovel in2 the ground w/her foot, 2 make holes for seedlings, and told Mom, "U can baby-sit yr grandchildren w/out being overwhelmed, El.  U just have 2 set sum limits!"  She didn't continue talking until after she and Mom were ready 2 put the seedlings in2 the ground, @ which pt she continued, "U've got 2 have time 4 yrself, rite?  U've &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;DONE&lt;/span&gt; yr job as a parent!"  [No, she hasn't!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ME&lt;/span&gt;!  Still here!]  They put the seedlings in silently, then they both got up and Connie sed, "Let yr kids find &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;OTHER&lt;/span&gt; baby sitters 4 their children--and just help out when it's really necessary!"  Mom wiggled the back of her head and sed, "That means leaving my babies w/strangers!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yeah, whatevs.  I'm just tired of ppl 4 getting I'm still only 17 yrs old and I xxist and all.  But I guess I'm kinda used 2 it.  Jeremy's Mom is letting me stay @ their house 4 a while, and so far I don't think Mom has noticed.  She hasn't tried 2 call me or NEthing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7822347608106350525?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7822347608106350525/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7822347608106350525' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7822347608106350525'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7822347608106350525'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/connie-4got-me-2.html' title='Connie 4got me, 2!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2656422925272364128</id><published>2008-06-19T06:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-19T07:01:33.076-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Tying and Shackling and Stuff</title><content type='html'>Mom decided 2 do sum gardening, and Connie came over 2 help.  Connie was wearing a silly gardening hat and crouching, holding a seedling tray while my mom was kneeling over her new plantlings and doing her imitation of a slack-jawed sloth.  Mom had told Connie abt Liz coming over 2 pre-reserve Mom's babysitting services, and Connie sed, "U started it, Elly!  When U made yrself available 2 Mike and Deanna, day and nite, they took advantage!"  Mom went, "Don't put it like that, Connie.  I luv my grandkids 2 pieces--and I &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;WANT&lt;/span&gt; 2 take care of them."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Connie got up and started 2 walk away, and Mom sed, "But now w/Liz marrying a man w/a child... And wanting kids of her own, I'm going 2 B..."  Over her manly shoulder, Connie went, "Tied down?"  Mom called after her, "Don't put it like that, Connie!"  And Connie called back, "OK... How abt 'shackled'!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, I get it.  Connie's filling the "cynical friend" role there.  Kind of like Candace 2 Liz.  I wonder if Eva is supposed 2 B &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;my&lt;/span&gt; cynical friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope Connie isn't a signal that I'll B telling U flashback stories 2morrow.  In which case I mite boycott the past again!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2656422925272364128?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2656422925272364128/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2656422925272364128' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2656422925272364128'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2656422925272364128'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/tying-and-shackling-and-stuff.html' title='Tying and Shackling and Stuff'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-212723480932498797</id><published>2008-06-18T06:15:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T06:27:42.004-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April who?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Reminder that Mom's all done w/me</title><content type='html'>It seems that removing the sleeves of the not-Marian dress became deconstructing the whole thing and remaking it.  As Dee was cutting fabric, she was telling Liz, "Yr Mom has been so good 2 us, Liz.  She takes the kids all the time.  I don't know what we'd do w/out her!"  As she fit the remade bodice around Liz's 4shortened torso, Dee went on w/"Michael's @ home most days, but he's not a househusband.  He needs time alone 4 his writing... And I work 5 days a week."  W8, Merrie's in school and Robin's in daycare @ Merrie's school.  Mike can't be alone w/the kids 4 a couple of hrs ea afternoon evening, in the time between the bus arriving and Dee returning from work?!?!?! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, Dee hunched over her sewing machine and went, "We try 2 B independent, but we've really needed the extra help."  Liz sed, "Yeah... I hope Mom won't mind doing sum baby-sitting 4 us, 2!"  Really?  What happened 2 Anthony's mother? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz went over 2 our TTH 2 ask Mom abt this, and Mom sez her thot was, "But... I've already &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;RAISED&lt;/span&gt; my children!"  When Mom told me this, I kinda glared @ her, and she went, "WHAT?"  Then, "Oh.  Right.  You.  Well, U know, in the olden days, U'd B married and having yr 2nd child by now!"  I sed, "It's not the olden days!"  And Mom sez, "I live in a fantasy bubble!"  I sed, "True enuf."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dunc, I M on my way over 2 yr house 2 stop U from &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/no-borrow-lets-hear-some-bidding.html#c4911576016811471321"&gt;taking the GO train&lt;/a&gt;.  U have no idea how much I had 2 argue w/the principal 2 get yr xxam rescheduled.  U R NOT leaving!  (But yeah, Mom totally 4got me again.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-212723480932498797?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/212723480932498797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=212723480932498797' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/212723480932498797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/212723480932498797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/reminder-that-moms-all-done-wme.html' title='Reminder that Mom&apos;s all done w/me'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2111054216563165504</id><published>2008-06-17T06:59:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-17T07:12:54.405-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='April who?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>No borrow--let's hear some BIDDING!</title><content type='html'>As Dee was working on the alterations 2 the not-Marian gown, She sed 2 Liz, "The 1st couple of yrs will B fun... And then U'll start C-ing ea other in a different lite.  U'll go from being lovers to friends, parents, business partners, roommates, co-workers..."  Liz replied, "Anthony and I have been friends 4 a long time, Dee. ...And I already feel like a parent!"  Dee tells me that Liz had a slitely panicky look on her face as she sed this, and guessed it mite B cuz she was realizing that she and the Ant had skipped rite over the "lover" part B4 they even got married.  When Dee sed this, I sed, "Oh, like in that oldie from the 80s, by the Motels, the one that goes, 'Take the "L" out of "lover" and it's over.'"  Dee gave me a funny look and sed, "Yeah, sumthing like that."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, the next thing Dee sed 2 Liz was, "Trust me.  Marriage is a real challenge, and I wanted 2 let U know that we'll B there 4 U, Liz.  NEtime U guyz need NEthing, let us know, OK?"  Liz was like, "Well, there IS sumthing we'll B borrowing from U, Dee..."  And Dee went, "What's that?"  That when Liz was all, "Yr babysitter."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Er, no.  No1 "borrows" me.  Bidding war.  We'll start the bidding @ $2/hr above my current base r8.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dunc, OMG, I'm so sorry U &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/continued-dress-hijinx.html#c29320712757410564"&gt;slept thru yr xxam&lt;/a&gt;!  I think U ended up having, like, 21 dbl-dbls.  MayB we can talk 2 the English teacher and get U rescheduled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2111054216563165504?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2111054216563165504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2111054216563165504' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2111054216563165504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2111054216563165504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/no-borrow-lets-hear-some-bidding.html' title='No borrow--let&apos;s hear some BIDDING!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2829841481309928767</id><published>2008-06-16T06:17:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-16T06:35:10.453-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Continued Dress Hijinx</title><content type='html'>Liz sez she brought the not-Grandma Marian dress over 2 Dee and asked her if she cd make the dress sleeveless.  Dee was like, "I can make this in2 a sleeveless dress, Liz--But will yr mom mind if I cut the fabric?"  Liz replied that Mom doesn't mind.  Of course she doesn't mind!  It's not like it's REALLY Marian's dress.  This just proves it!  And since when is Dee a seemstress?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, Dee had cut off the sleeves and she had Liz put on the dress.  Crouching by Liz, pulling @ the side of the dress and doing sum measurements, Dee sed, "Well, this is really happening, isn't it.  [Not a question, U C.]  U guys R taking the plunge!"  Liz was all, "I guess U cd say that!"  Dee got up 2 do sum vertical measurements of Liz's boob area, and Liz went, "But we're both good swimmers, Dee."  Dee answered, "I know U R, but U're just getting yr feet wet now, Liz...."  She put down her tape measure, picked up a pin cushion, and sed, over her shoulder 2 Liz, "And marriage ain't no backyard pool!!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, Gah, friggin' wordplay again.  Pls make it stop!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2829841481309928767?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2829841481309928767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2829841481309928767' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2829841481309928767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2829841481309928767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/continued-dress-hijinx.html' title='Continued Dress Hijinx'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7656079444087467152</id><published>2008-06-15T07:09:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-15T07:51:24.084-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Happy Father's Day</title><content type='html'>I thought it wd B nice 2 celebr8 Dad's Day by taking Dad out 4 a nice brunch, but Mom sed, "The best gift U can give a parent is 2 go sumwhere else all day so the parent can B home alone and pretend to be single and childless."  I thot that sounded kinda sad and cynical, but when I told Dad what Mom had sed, his eyes lit up and sed, "Oh, yes, please, let's do that!"  Then he sed that it reminded him of sumthing that happened on June 22, 1980, when he had the house 2 himself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"It all started w/me lying in bed and thinking, 'Aaah...an entire bed 2 myself... nobody telling me not 2 hog the blankets.'  Then I picked up the digital clock from the nightstand, noticed that it was 8:45 AM, and I thought, 'Amazing..No kids landing on my belly at the crack of dawn!'  Later, I took a bubble bath, which turned my rite leg red, and I thought, 'I can spend hrs in the bathroom... No lineups... No frantic banging @ the door...'  While tossing the towel after drying myself, I thought, 'Nobody 2 tell me 2 pick up my towel...'  As I got dressed (in a plaid shirt, zigzag-patterned lavender pants, and neon-green socks, I thought, 'The freedom 2 wear NEthing I choose...'  While eating a peanut butter sandwich over the open jar with the knife sticking out of it, I thought, '2 eat what I want 2 eat...'  Watching &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Morrie Mouse&lt;/span&gt; on TV while lounging w/my feet on the coffee table, drinking a beer, I thought, '2 do whatever I want 2 do!'  Then I thought, 'SIGH .. I hope Elly and the kids R home soon.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went, "Wow, Dad, R U sure U wd rather do that than have a nice brunch?"  And Dad sed, "R U kidding?  And miss wearing making a mess, wearing ugly clothes, and watching bad TV, all by myself?"  And Mom sed, "Told U so."  NEway, I'll B @ the mall until dinner time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7656079444087467152?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7656079444087467152/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7656079444087467152' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7656079444087467152'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7656079444087467152'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/happy-fathers-day.html' title='Happy Father&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3192621206465946843</id><published>2008-06-14T07:29:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T07:51:06.395-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Françoise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gerald'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Liz clues in the Ant</title><content type='html'>I got an e-mail from Liz, and this is what she sed:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know some of your nosy readers want to know about when I talked to Anthony about having the wedding this summer.  Not that it's any of their business, but I don't want anyone spreading mean lies about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthony and I took the kid to the park again, and we let her run way, way ahead of us on the path.  I was thinking that maybe she'd get lost and I'd keep Anthony distracted and he'd forget and I wouldn't have to worry about being a stepmother after all.  So I told him about wanting to move the wedding to this summer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anthony said, "I thought we might wait until next year, Liz--But sooner is fine too!"  I said, "It's because of my grandfather's health."  Anthony replied, "I understand!  We could get married tomorrow, next week, next month..."  We turned to face each other, and I put a hand on each of his elbows as he put a hand on each of my upper arms.  I told him, "I don't want this wedding to be big or lavish or complicated, Anthony."  Anthony is soooooo in sync with me April.  He said, "Neither do I."  Isn't that just AMAZING?  We are soooooo meant for each other!  I don't even have to THINK about it!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frenchy came up to us, and we did that thing where each of us takes one of her hands and she kind of swings between us.  Anthony confessed, later, that while that was happening, he was thinking, "But weddings are like Woodstock.... Sometimes, They take on a life of their own!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and for those of your meanie readers who complain about my hair being in a bun almost all the time.  During this time in the park, I had my hair down, with a beautiful, wide headband!  So there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/blockquote&gt;Yeah.  OK.  Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OMG, I M still kinda shaking over that &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/that-dress-not-this-one.html#c1216781472400521416"&gt;scary-arse xxperience&lt;/a&gt; Jeremy an' I had in that alternate universe we found in the crawlspace.  I was, like, shellshocked when I sed that stuff abt the ppl there being friendly and helpful.  Scary and depressing is more like it!  Jeremy, that is NOT my destiny!  Not for sure!  I think this must B like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A Christmas Carol&lt;/span&gt;.  That will only come true if I let it.  If I don't take measures to make sure it never, ever happens.  I need strategies 2 make sure it never does.  Please help me think, Jeremy!  U 2, Duncan.  I M sure U don't want that 2 come true, either!  MayB we all hafta make sure we never go back 2 Mboro after we leave 4 uni.  I mean, if we're not in Mboro, there is no1 2 think big noses on us wd B "funny," 4 xxample.  We cd live in, like, Halifax, Nova Scotia and have small noses, rite!  Help, guyz!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, BTW.  Jeremy, his mom, stepdad, step-sis, and I R all traveling 2 Syracuse, NY 2day.  4 sum reason, his step-dad's grandmother lives there, and she is having a special celebration 4 her 100th bday!  I won't have my fone w/me, cuz Mom commandeered it 2 lend 2 Liz cuz she lost hers and Mom sez she needs 2 B in constant contact w/Liz during wedding-planning logistics or whatevs.  Jeremy mite B able 2 post, tho, assuming he has reception in Syracuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3192621206465946843?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3192621206465946843/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3192621206465946843' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3192621206465946843'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3192621206465946843'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/liz-clues-in-ant.html' title='Liz clues in the Ant'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4674880350816387267</id><published>2008-06-13T06:13:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T06:40:02.817-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>THAT dress (not THIS one)</title><content type='html'>So Liz was holding the dress and contempl8ing it.  I'm not sure when it made its way 2 our teeny-tiny train house, but whatevs.  As Liz was gazing at the dress, I went over 2 Mom and sed, "I saw the photographs of Gram an' Grampa's wedding.  The dress she had on looked nothing like the one Liz has got."  Mom grabbed me by both shoulders, pinched really hard, looked me in the eye w/a scary-intense expression, like she might kill me if I don't do as she sez, and she hissed, "April Marian Patterson.  That is my mother's dress.  It was stored in the crawlspace and miraculously survived the years and inadequate storage.  You go in there and tell yr sister that U saw those pictures from yr grandparents wedding and that yr Gram looked beautiful in that dress.  And when yr sister puts on that dress, make a comment abt how wierd it is 2 B wearing a dress that was worn so long ago.  Throw in a 'like' 2 make it authentic teenspeak."  She let go, and I went, "OK.  But don't U mean 'weird'?"  Mom went "What?"  And I sed, "U told me 2 say it's 'wierd.'  Don't U mean 'weird?"  Mom grumbled sumthing abt how she cd never get that str8 and she just doesn't understand Y 'weird' is exempt from the "I before E" rule.  I sed, "That's the English language.  The rules have exceptions."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;NEway, I went 2 Liz, who was holding the dress still, and I sed, "I saw the photographs of Gram an' Grampa's wedding, Liz.  She looked really beautiful in that dress."  I kind of subtly leaned on the word "that" so I @ least acknowledged in my own head that I meant &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; dress as opposed to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;this&lt;/span&gt; dress.  Liz stepped in2 the dress, and she looked over her shoulder @ me so I'd know she needed 2 B zipped up in the back.  I had 2 struggle a bit 2 pull the sides 2gether and get her zipped, tho Liz wasn't noticing as she sed, "She was almost the xxact same size as I am!"  And I sed, "Weird, hum?..."  That was a Dad-ism I threw in, since I was using lines I'd been fed NEway.  I went on w/"I mean, it's weird 2 B wearing a dress that was worn, like, so long ago."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Liz pulled @ the sides of the skirt part and sed, "The fabric is beautiful."  I sed, "Yeah, it's pretty cool--an' U know what?  Xxcept 4 the back an' the sleeves an' the neckline, it actually looks GOOD on U!!"  Yeah, cuz, w/all those things not xxcepted--it really didn't look good on her!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Howard, I asked Liz, and it looks like Liz is going 2 pass on &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/dad-and-liz-have-actual-conversation.html#c930038636753432662"&gt;that one wedding venue&lt;/a&gt;.  Thanx, tho!  Jeremy, yeah, &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/dad-and-liz-have-actual-conversation.html#c7750603402538668612"&gt;that lady&lt;/a&gt; we ran in2 was whacked!  Dunc, I cannot believe U &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/dad-and-liz-have-actual-conversation.html#c8536672593164199219"&gt;downed 17 XL dbl-dbls @ HT's&lt;/a&gt; last nite!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4674880350816387267?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4674880350816387267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4674880350816387267' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4674880350816387267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4674880350816387267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/that-dress-not-this-one.html' title='THAT dress (not THIS one)'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1102395736573565904</id><published>2008-06-12T06:53:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-13T06:10:24.559-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='trying to be wise'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Dad and Liz have an actual conversation?</title><content type='html'>It seems that after Dad emerged from the workshop, barely scathed by the glove 2 his head (via Mom), he found Liz sitting on the back deck with Edgar (Dixie was tied up sumwhere, prolly).  Dad was all, "I hear the wedding plans have been moved ahead!"  And Liz sed, "It's b-cuz of Grandpa, Dad.  I want him 2 B there."  Dad told her, "Yr mother wd like that, 2."  Liz sez she felt herself getting a gobsmacked look on her face, cuz Mom had been acting all like having Gramps there was no thing and no reason 2 rush.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dad sat down on the steps and told Liz, "It's been so nice 2 have him here.  I never really knew my grandparents.  They died when I was v. young."  Liz sed, "I wish he wasn't [sic] so frail.  I wish he wd just... live 4ever."  And Dad was all, "That's what makes life so precious, hon...."  Then he sat down next 2 Liz, put an arm around her, and sed, "We... all of us... R a 'time-limited offer.'"   Liz sez she had this weird vision of ppl clipping out a pic of her and Dad sitting 2gether like that, and taping it 2 their fridges.  Weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What no1 has told me yet was what happed when Liz clued in Anthony on this decision having been made abt their wedding.  W/out consulting him and all.  W8 and C, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1102395736573565904?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1102395736573565904/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1102395736573565904' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1102395736573565904'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1102395736573565904'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/dad-and-liz-have-actual-conversation.html' title='Dad and Liz have an actual conversation?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7677768292326709859</id><published>2008-06-11T06:10:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-11T06:27:34.487-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jeremy'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Did Mom challenge Dad 2 a Duel?</title><content type='html'>Okay, so after Mom had the convo w/Liz I told U abt yesterday?  She went and found Dad in his workshop.  Usually when Dad's in his workshop, Mom's content 2 4get abt him 4 days, wks, or even months @ a time.  But I guess the whole "Liz's wedding" thing is something she thinx is worth interrupting him 4.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So when Mom told Dad the thing that Liz sed abt a summer wedding, Dad's reaction was, "A summer wedding?  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;THIS&lt;/span&gt; summer?"  Mom sed, "I think so, John.  My Dad is really not well.  If Elizabeth wants him 2 C her married in my mom's dress..."  Gah, it's NOT &lt;a href="http://s24.photobucket.com/albums/c16/kborgesius/?action=view&amp;amp;current=Jim_MarianWeddingPic.jpg"&gt;Grandma Marian's dress&lt;/a&gt;!  Dad sed, "Hmmm..."  Then he sed, "So, what U're saying is:  Our lives R abt 2 B plunged in2 a frenzy of party plans and pandemonium!"  Mom sed, 'R U OK wh/that?"  Dad told her, "Sure...I don't have 2 do NEthing."  Which inspired Mom 2 pick up a rubber glove from the work table and throw it 2 Dad's hed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, so she's back 2 throwing things @ Dad's hed.  I thot she'd broken herself of that habit.   And a glove, 2.  I wonder if she was trying 2 throw it in his face, 2 challenge him 2 a duel.  Did she think she was Cyrano DeBergerac?  She has the nose 4 it!  And speaking of habits, I thot Dad was over his habit of flaunting his unwillingness 2 help out w/NEthing that's not rel8ed 2 dentistry or choo-choos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, abt yr, er, &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/mom-tells-liz-theres-no-rush.html#c7951824232364948571"&gt;stanky problem&lt;/a&gt;.  I'll come by w/sum special soap rite after I finish posting this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike, I AM NOT GOING 2 &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/mom-tells-liz-theres-no-rush.html#c5435562430276923139"&gt;MARRY GERALD&lt;/a&gt;!  GET THAT THRU YR THICK SKULL!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7677768292326709859?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7677768292326709859/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7677768292326709859' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7677768292326709859'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7677768292326709859'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/did-mom-challenge-dad-2-duel.html' title='Did Mom challenge Dad 2 a Duel?'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3531874160858067278</id><published>2008-06-10T06:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-10T06:58:37.000-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Grandma Marian'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Anthony'/><title type='text'>Mom tells Liz there's no rush</title><content type='html'>When Liz dropped me off after giving me a ride home from my visit w/Gramps, she and Mom had a sit-down in the kitchen.  Liz told Mom, "Mom, I really don't want 2 rush in2 this marriage.  I want 2 take my time."  Mom sed, "Of course U do.  My Dad saw U in my mother's [yeah, right!] wedding dress, Elizabeth.  He doesn't have 2 C U walk down the aisle.  It's enuf 4 him 2 know U're happy and have solid plans 4 the future.  Don't rush.  Take yr time.  This decision is yrs and Anthony's 2 make.  Do what's right 4 &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;U&lt;/span&gt;."  Then Liz sed, "On the other hand... A summer wedding wd B nice!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hm, I think Mom mighta used sum reverse-psych there, don't U?  Notice she never sed that Liz seems 2 B having 2nd thots about marrying Anthony @ all, and that mayB this means he really isn't the one 4 her after all.  Doesn't it sound like Liz's fear of "rushing" pts 2 that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3531874160858067278?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3531874160858067278/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3531874160858067278' title='19 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3531874160858067278'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3531874160858067278'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/mom-tells-liz-theres-no-rush.html' title='Mom tells Liz there&apos;s no rush'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>19</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-4423762728707610452</id><published>2008-06-09T06:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T06:35:22.645-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Liz'/><title type='text'>Liz took my car again and I laid on Gramps-guilt</title><content type='html'>Since Liz had borrowed my car again (cuz she dinged hers and needed 2 get the ding pulled out @ Gordo's Garage and Grill), I needed rides to/from Gramps's place 4 my recent visit.  Dad had dropped me off, and Liz picked me up.  This felt pretty lame, since I'd just finished bragging 2 Gramps abt having gotten my licence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But anyway.  Liz.  As I was fastening my seatbelt, I was all, "Thanks 4picking me up, Liz."  I figured if I didn't butter her up a bit, I'd NEVER get my car back.  Liz went, "No problem!... How's Gramps?"  I sed, "The truth?  --He's not doing well.  Every time I C him, he's more frail, more tired... It's scary.  If U want him 2 B @ yr wedding, Sis--U'd better set a d8 soon.  Seriously."  Liz sed, "MayB U're rite.  It's just that... I don't want 2 rush in2 anything!  I want 2 take it a day @ a time!"  I replied, "I know.  But I don't think he has many days left."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-4423762728707610452?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/4423762728707610452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=4423762728707610452' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4423762728707610452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/4423762728707610452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/liz-took-my-car-again-and-i-laid-on.html' title='Liz took my car again and I laid on Gramps-guilt'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7051385730953286234</id><published>2008-06-08T08:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T08:59:32.792-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dee'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Merrie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Robin'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><title type='text'>Gobsmacking over kids and wheelchairs</title><content type='html'>Early this morning, Mike and Dee came by the house w/Merrie and Robin, 2 beg Mom, last minute, 2 take the kids so they can attend sum kinda seminar 2gether in Toronto.  Mom was like, "I dunno.  Grandchildren R the gift that keeps giving.  So what do I get?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike was like, "Well, I have a heartwarming story 4 U.  Dee and I heard abt all the credit April was getting 4 being the only Patterson who spends quality time with Grandpa Jim.  And of course I couldn't let that stand!  So Dee and I arranged 2 take him out 4 a picnic lunch, yesterday afternoon!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee said, "Even tho it was 31 C [87 F 4 U Yanks], I insisted that we all wear jackets."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike added, "That's the Patterson way!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee continued, "As I was zipping Robin's jacket, I said, 'I want U 2 to B on yr best behavior [sic] 2day.'  Then, 2 make sure the children 'understood' what was going on, I added, 'We're going 2 take Great-Grandpa Jim 2 the park 4 sum fresh air.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike sed, "Did U know we have a blue SUV?"  Mom and I both shook our heads and he said, "Well, we do!  And as we parked in the wheelchair-logo parking area, I told Grandpa Jim, 'The kids R so xxcited abt bringing U 2 the park 2day, Grandpa!'  And Grandpa Jim replied, 'Yes!'  April, did U notice he sez that a lot?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I said, "Of course.  'Yes' is one of the words he's able 2 say w/his aphasia, U dope!  And what U call a 'wheelchair logo' is a pictogram meaning 'handicapped'!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike said, "There U go, being a know-it-all again!"  Mom nodded really hard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee said,  "Once we'd gotten every1 out of the car, and we were nearing a picnic table, I declared, 'Here's a perfect picnic spot!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike went, "Yes, and I sed, 'Looks good 2 me!'  Also, I thought Gramps would enjoy hovering, so I lifted his wheelchair in the air a bit on the way 2 the picnic table."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sed, "Mike, that's dangerous!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike was all, "Nonsense, April, Gramps obviously thought it was fun.  He grunted in delight!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee was like, "Elly, I was so proud, because the children were being so attentive of their great-grandpa!  Merrie asked if he wanted to sit at the table, and Robin asked if he cd help!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike grumbled, "And Grandpa answered with that ever-present 'yes' of his!  But in any event, I got him out of the wheelchair and seated at the picnic table."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee added, "Meredith was so cute, holding on2 her great-grandpa's rite arm and making sure he was seated safely!  Once he was, she and Robin both asked him if he was OK.  He said, 'Yes.'"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mike said, "C what I mean?"  Every1 ignored him.  He added, "When my son asked him if he was 'comftorful,' Grandpa Jim said it again.  'Yes.'  Then I told my children, 'Robin and Meredith, that was so nice.  U helped a lot just now--and I want U 2 know that I'm proud of U 4 being so thoughtful."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee told us, "That's when Meredith said, 'Grampa?  ...Cd we play w/yr wheelchair?'  U shd have seen it, Elly and April!  Michael and Jim had matching 'gobsmacked' looks on their faces!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom chuckled and said, "Kids!  They say the darndest things!  OK, U're rite, my heart is warmed.  U can leave the kids here.  But U mite want 2 start thinking of a nice little 'surprise' 2 bring me when U return.  My heart can only stay warm 4 so long." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dee went, "Thanks, Elly!" as Mike said, "Thank U, Mommy!"  Then they teararsed outta there like they'd just robbed a bank.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom sed, "April, take these food scraps 2 yr dad in his workshop.  It's time 4 him 2 feed."  So I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7051385730953286234?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7051385730953286234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7051385730953286234' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7051385730953286234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7051385730953286234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/gobsmacking-over-kids-and-wheelchairs.html' title='Gobsmacking over kids and wheelchairs'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-5740568609631929682</id><published>2008-06-07T08:30:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-07T08:49:35.251-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Oldies for the oldies</title><content type='html'>After dinner w/Gramps and Iris (during which no1 but me ate the salad), Iris started 2 help Gramps away from the table while saying, "I think Jim needs a rest now, April."  Channeling my MOM, I was all, "But we haven't had dessert!"  Then I felt embarrassed cuz that was such an Elly Patterson kind of objection.  But Iris just went, "That's OK.  Y don't U bring yr guitar in2 his room?  He luvs 2 hear U play."  Once Gramps was tucked in2 his bed, and I was sitting by his side w/my guitar, I went, "NE requests from the audience?"  And Iris sed, "Well, sum golden oldies, of course!"  And I sed, "Umm--I'll C what I can do."  I thot 4 a sec, and then sed, "Here's sumthing from way back in 1985!"  And I had a feeling that Iris was behind me looking gobsmacked, and then it occurred 2 me that 1985 is, like, "just yesterday" 2 old foax. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh wells.  I  played "Bring on the Dancing Horses" by Echo and the Bunnymen.  Which became even more popular the following yr, when it was featured on the soundtrack of the classic old move, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Pretty in Pink&lt;/span&gt;.  Since I had that soundtrack on my mind, I also played "Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want" by the Smiths, "Left of Center" by Suzanne Vega, and "Wouldn't it Be Good" by Danny Hutton Hitters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I realized Gramps was asleep, so I tiptoed outta his room.  MayB this story will continue in my blog entry Monday, or mayB we go 2 sumthing completely diff.  I dunno abt 2morrow, but I accidentally found out that a week from 2morrow is gonna B a boring reminisce from Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-5740568609631929682?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/5740568609631929682/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=5740568609631929682' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5740568609631929682'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/5740568609631929682'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/oldies-for-oldies.html' title='Oldies for the oldies'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7060892700924216741</id><published>2008-06-06T06:26:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-06T07:14:26.748-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Standing Ovation</title><content type='html'>More abt my recent visit w/Gramps.  We were sitting @ the table having tea and cookies, and I told Gramps, "We're almost finished school, Grampa--and I have a summer job @ a veterinary clinic here in town!"  And Gramps went "Yes?"  Then I sed, "It's just cleaning cages and doing odd jobs, but it's all pretty interesting! ...I got my driver's license [&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sic&lt;/span&gt;] [back in December].  I'm a good driver, 2.  U'd B proud of me!"  Then, I was saying this:  "Oh, and I got an award in music.  I got top marks in performance and composition!..."  And while I was saying that stuff, Gramps pushed up in2 a standing position while saying, "MMM HHH," and I asked, "Gramps?  ...Grampa!  R U OK?"  And I was relieved that he was saying MMM HHH and not &lt;a href="http://www.fborfw.com/strip_fix/archives/002583.php"&gt;MMM MMM&lt;/a&gt;, which has a diff meaning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gramps was standing there, supporting himself w/his arms, and kind of nodding his head.  I was confused abt this, and went, "What R U doing?!!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;IRIS&lt;/span&gt;?!!"  I started 2 stand up as Iris sed, "Don't worry, dear."  Then she kind of led me in2 a hug w/Gramps, while saying, "...He just wants 2 give U a standing ovation!!"  I was surprised she knew that just from him standing and nodding, but I guess when U're w/sum1 all the time, U know stuff, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, now U know my summer plans--staying local insteada going 2 the farm in Manitoba.  Mom sed I had 2 stay in town in case Liz got it 2gether 2 have a wedding, like mayB in August or whatevs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, I thot studying w/U last nite was v. v., um, productive.  &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7060892700924216741?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7060892700924216741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7060892700924216741' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7060892700924216741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7060892700924216741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/standing-ovation.html' title='Standing Ovation'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2520594632898302345</id><published>2008-06-05T07:12:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T07:26:07.844-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='depressing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Iris'/><title type='text'>Crying</title><content type='html'>So, the day after my recent mall trip, I did go 2 visit Gramps and Iris.  Gramps was sleeping when I got there, so we went in2 the bedroom, and I was all, "Grampa?  Grampa..."  I noticed that his glasses and the remote control were next 2 him on the bed.  Iris went, "April's here 2 C U, Jim.  April's here!"  Gramps went, "Mm?"  Iris kinda pulled him up 2 a seated position while saying, "Let me help U up."  And Gramps sed, "Yes?"  Then Iris sed 2 me, "Put the tea on, wd U, sweetheart?"  And I sed, "Sure."  While I was putting the tea on, I cd hear Iris saying, "She brought her music and a box of yr favourite cookies, and she's going 2 stay 4 dinner."  C, I decided 2 bring more than time.  And Gramps sed, "Yes?"  Once I'd gotten the tea into 2 teapot and the cups set up on the counter, Iris opened the bedroom door and sed, "He's so pleased 2 C U, he wants 2 walk our here on his own, so U can C how well he's doing!"  Then Gramps came out of the bedroom, struggling w/all his might 2 walk out using his walker.  And his struggle made me so sad, I thought, "I want 2 cry."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, I hafta say our &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/giving-time-2-gramps.html#c6009239727033142950"&gt;visit w/yr grandparents&lt;/a&gt; last nite was v. interesting.  I was surprised they knew so much abt my life, yr life, our friends' lives, and how things "work" in Mboro.  It's almost like they sit around each day finding out stuff that happens 2 us and discussing it in gr8 detail 2 make jokes abt us!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, I luv U, 2!!!  &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2520594632898302345?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2520594632898302345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2520594632898302345' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2520594632898302345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2520594632898302345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/crying.html' title='Crying'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-721476218110678204</id><published>2008-06-04T06:26:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T06:41:25.905-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gramps'/><title type='text'>Giving time 2 Gramps</title><content type='html'>So, after Eva bought that shirt she wanted w/out needing, and I had that creepy thought bubble abt giving Mom "credit," I told Eva I wanted 2 get sumthing from The Stuffed Shirt, which sells menswear and accessories.  At reasonable, affordable places.  (U guyz know where 2 send that cheque, eh?) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once we were inside, Eva aked me, "What R U looking in here 4?"  And I sed, "I want 2 find sumthing 4 my grandpa."  I started looking @ ties, and I told Eva, "I like 2 take him stuff when I visit, but Eva, it's &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;so difficult!&lt;/span&gt;  He doesn't read very much, he doesn't go NEwhere... He can't hear very well...  Abt all that's left is food!"  I went eyeless 4 a mo during that last sentence, which made it hard 2 C the tie I was looking @.  Eva sed, "So... get him sum chocolate!"  And I sed, "He's not supposed 2 have candy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I put down the tie, and we left the store in absolute silence.  Then, once we were back out in the general mall area, Eva continued w/"So, what can U give him?"  With my hands stuck in2 my pants pocket, Patterstyle, I sed, "My time."  No, w8, I sed, "...My time."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeremy, sorry I didn't post @ all last nite while we were bowling &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/giving-mom-credit.html#c5639278594387424852"&gt;w/Eva and Dunc&lt;/a&gt;.  I was a bit distracted by how cute U R when U bowl!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-721476218110678204?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/721476218110678204/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=721476218110678204' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/721476218110678204'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/721476218110678204'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/giving-time-2-gramps.html' title='Giving time 2 Gramps'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3621031056465875653</id><published>2008-06-03T07:03:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T07:14:21.268-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Giving Mom "credit"</title><content type='html'>Ugh, I don't wanna tell U what happened next, after Eva bought that belt, but I guess I kind of have 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were walking from one store 2 another, and Eva was all, "U're not gonna buy NEthing, April?"  And I sed, "Nah.  I don't have much money."  We walked in2 a store, and Eva was like, "I just use my mom's credit card!"  I sed, "Well, I hafta use my own cash--unless my  mom's with me... an' then she uses her credit card."  Eva started 2 look @ sum tank tops displayed on a table, and sed, "Bummer.  She ought 2 trust U w/the card, man.  I mean U're just gonna get stuff U &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;NEED!&lt;/span&gt;  And then we silently went 2 the checkout w/a shirt Eva had decided 2 buy, and once we got there, I continued our convo w/"Do U need that shirt?"  And she was all, "Not really, but I like it."  As we left that store I thought..........  Oh, no.  I can't.  I can't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I have 2.  I thought, "I should give my mom credit!"  Ugh, it was like my brain had been taken over by sum smug 60yo in Corbeil, who can't resist lame wordplay (credit/credit) and has 2 get in a message abt Elly Patterson being the bestest evah!!!!11!!  Not only that, but I realize I was starting 2 have judgmental thought bubbles abt Eva, just like I used 2 w/Becky when our friendship was abt 2 go down the pooper.  Uh-uh, I'm afraid Eva is abt 2 have the official "Becky" treatment.  Next thing U know, Michael will B referring 2 her as "that slattern Eva" and my dad will B saying stuff abt her being 2 ambitious.  Or fashionable.  Or whatevs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3621031056465875653?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3621031056465875653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3621031056465875653' title='22 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3621031056465875653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3621031056465875653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/giving-mom-credit.html' title='Giving Mom &quot;credit&quot;'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>22</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-3515134066139022018</id><published>2008-06-02T06:58:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T06:58:01.208-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fashion'/><title type='text'>Trying and buying at the mall</title><content type='html'>Eva's my friend and, when she's not giving me a smackdown 2 make me feel "spoiled," she's pretty cube.  But she has some learning 2 do abt shopping etiquette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While Connie and Mom were bizzy slurping coffee and remembering boring shizz that happened way back in 1980, Eva and I headed 2 one of the clothes stores in the mall (I'd mention which one, but then I'd xxpect them 2 pay me 4 the product placement!).  Eva tried on a bunch of outfits.  She got me 2 hold the clothes she wasn't wearing @ NE given moment.  With each outfit, she wore this one belt that she liked.  After she'd tried on the whole stack of clothes, she brought them ALL 2 the checkout counter where the saleslady, who'd been watching kind of anxiously as Eva tried on all those clothes, was all, "So, R we ready now?"  And Eva went, "Yeah, totally!"  Then she slammed the stack of clothes on2 the counter, where the saleschick took a moment 2 fold them all up v. v. neatly.  And Eva went, "...I'll take the belt!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later, I told her, "Eva, I'm not sure how things were done in whatever place U lived where U were in a war zone, but here in Canada, U take the stuff U don't plan to buy and hang 'em up on those racks rite outside the fitting rooms.  Or put 'em back on the racks U got 'em from.  Then U take ONLY the stuff U plan 2 buy 2 the checkout counter.  If U bring all that stuff U don't want, the poor sales clerk thinks a big sale is abt 2 happen.  It's totally unfair."  Eva sed, "At least I'm not spoiled."  Shut up, Eva.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-3515134066139022018?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/3515134066139022018/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=3515134066139022018' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3515134066139022018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/3515134066139022018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/trying-and-buying-at-mall.html' title='Trying and buying at the mall'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1264532940804591513</id><published>2008-06-01T08:51:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-06-01T08:58:47.313-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='pets'/><title type='text'>Newsflash:  Dogs pee on trees</title><content type='html'>We're back in the present, @ least 4 2day, but U will B so bored, U mite hardly notice.  Mom and Dad went 2 Lawrence's biz, Lakeshore Landscaping, and bought a new tree 4 the yard.  The Lakeshore guys delivered the tree, and rite after Mom and Dad put the new tree in the ground, and mounted the supports 4 it, Edgar decided this was a good time 2 break in the new tree by peeing on it.  U know, dog logic:  new, unmarked tree in the yard.  Let the other doggies know whose tree it is.  Then Mom and Dad yelled @ him 4, like, behaving like a dog.  And he got so confused, he collapsed next 2 a coupla older trees and thought-bubbled a red "?".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During all this, Dixie may or may not have been locked in a cage, where it's EZer 4 Mom and Dad 2 4get that they have a 2nd doggie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1264532940804591513?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1264532940804591513/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1264532940804591513' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1264532940804591513'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1264532940804591513'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/06/newsflash-dogs-pee-on-trees.html' title='Newsflash:  Dogs pee on trees'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1783808560999000773</id><published>2008-05-31T07:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-31T07:29:35.719-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='continuity'/><title type='text'>More jumping around in the boring past</title><content type='html'>OK, this time go 2 &lt;a href="http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c16/kborgesius/DentalStrips3.jpg"&gt;this group of pics&lt;/a&gt; and look @ the ones on the bottom of the page (3rd sequence).  Where Dad yells @ Mom that she can't take all day, and then tells Mr. Shadbolt that the yelling is OK cuz he's only yelling @ his wife.  Connie and Mom were jumping all over the place w/their reminiscing, eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bleah. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanx 4 the &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/they-jumped-around-in-their-boring.html#c3531109523411175313"&gt;luv&lt;/a&gt;, Anon.  :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1783808560999000773?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1783808560999000773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1783808560999000773' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1783808560999000773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1783808560999000773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/more-jumping-around-in-boring-past.html' title='More jumping around in the boring past'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7152620835142426930</id><published>2008-05-30T05:59:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-30T06:02:49.717-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='continuity'/><title type='text'>They jumped around in their boring reminiscing</title><content type='html'>My &lt;a href="http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c16/kborgesius/DentalStrips4.jpg"&gt;second link&lt;/a&gt; from yesterday's post?  Go 2 the 1st group of pics on that page.  Seems Mom an' Connie discussed those old events out of order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7152620835142426930?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7152620835142426930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7152620835142426930' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7152620835142426930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7152620835142426930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/they-jumped-around-in-their-boring.html' title='They jumped around in their boring reminiscing'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-1252766362205656283</id><published>2008-05-29T07:55:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-29T08:07:05.451-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dad'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='continuity'/><title type='text'>Let's get this over with</title><content type='html'>Yeah, so Mom and Connie did launch in2 boring reminiscing abt Mom helping out Dad back in 1980.  2 save U sum time, I decided 2 dig in2 Mom's annotated foto albums, and I found the one marked "Dental pictures, 1980."  You can see 'em &lt;a href="http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c16/kborgesius/DentalStrips3.jpg"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt; and &lt;a href="http://i24.photobucket.com/albums/c16/kborgesius/DentalStrips4.jpg"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.  4 sum reason, Mom and Connie jumped rite ahead 2 talking abt the 2nd group of pics in that 2nd sequence I linked.  I dunno if that means they wrapped up w/the story abt Mom and Dad heading home afterwards, w/Dad asking Mom what's 4 supper, or if they skipped around.  In NE event, the 2 links I gave U oughta cover the whole flashback.  I'll post again when we're all dun w/that, cuz really I M sick of this flashback shizz.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Muzition, in answer 2 yr &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/batten-yr-hatches-signs-pt-2-flashbacks.html#c1980379036200460133"&gt;question&lt;/a&gt;, I dunno if my Dad will ever fully retire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-1252766362205656283?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/1252766362205656283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=1252766362205656283' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1252766362205656283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/1252766362205656283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/lets-get-this-over-with.html' title='Let&apos;s get this over with'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-7669456507501846472</id><published>2008-05-28T06:27:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-28T07:10:04.075-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='playing with words'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='boring'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Jean Baker'/><title type='text'>Batten yr hatches--signs pt 2 flashbacks</title><content type='html'>Oh, no.  The next story I have 2 tell U bears all the signs of being the set-up 4 more FLASHBACKS.  Why?  Why, why, why?!?!?!?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, this is what I hear happened.  My mom and Connie, also @ the mall, but away from me and Eva, walked 2gether as Mom was all, "I'm glad U felt like going out 2nite Connie.  John's away and I didn't feel like spending the evening alone."  Connie sed, "NEtime!"  Then, as they approached the coffee stand @ the mall food court, Connie went, "He's still going 2 dental conventions?  --I thought he was semi-retired!"  And Mom sed, "He is.  But he likes 2 keep up."  What a stupid xxchange.  Of course if he's not 100% retired, Dad shd "keep up."  Wd U want 2 go 2 a "semi-retired" dentist who's NOT up 2 d8?  Connie, I guess, hasn't had enuf gratuitous reminiscing, so sed this:  "I remember when he 1st started his practice and U worked as his assistant!"  Mom sent, "He didn't have the money 2 hire one!"  Then Mom and Connie walked away from the stand w/their coffees, and Mom added, "...We were living hand-to-mouth."  Har-dee-har.  NOT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is stupid.  If Mom then went in2 flashbacks from 1979-80 abt working as Dad's dental assistant, that won't B from when he started his practice and cdn't afford an assistant.  It'll B from when Jean Baker was on vacation and Mom subbed 4 her 4 a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-7669456507501846472?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/7669456507501846472/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=7669456507501846472' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7669456507501846472'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/7669456507501846472'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/batten-yr-hatches-signs-pt-2-flashbacks.html' title='Batten yr hatches--signs pt 2 flashbacks'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-8431076411374387683</id><published>2008-05-27T07:00:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-27T07:12:31.101-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>I write better than she does!</title><content type='html'>So, it was just Mom and Connie dropping off me and Eva @ the mall.  Liz has been borrowing my car again.  Soon after we got dropped off, Mom sent me a text asking where 2 pick us up.  I wrote back and told her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Much later, Connie told me abt what she and Mom had talked abt rite B4.  Mom was all, "The whole time we were driving them 2 the mall, April and Eva were text-messaging each other!"  And Connie went, "Kids!"  Then Mom told her,"April and her friends are constantly sending little notes to each other.  ::tsk::  ...They can't just save it all up and have a conversation!"  Then she parked the car and told Connie, "And, they use some kind of code!  Kids!  Their language is eroding and nobody cares.  They don't even know how 2 write NEmore!  Writing's become a lost art!!"  They got out of the car and Connie asked Mom, "Did they say where they wanted 2 B picked up?"  Mom sed, "No!"  Then she got out her fone 2 send the text 2 me, telling Connie, "...I'll send them a message."  Apparently,  this cracked Connie's shizz up, LOLfully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Mom thinks "kids" don't know how 2 write NEmore.  I say we know how 2 write in different ways.  The way I write a txt or a blog entry is NOT the same way I write an essay 4 English, as my A's in English will show U.  I'd luv 2 C my Mom write an essay and get it graded by my English teacher.  Then we'll C who doesn't know how 2 write NEmore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-8431076411374387683?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/8431076411374387683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=8431076411374387683' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8431076411374387683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/8431076411374387683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/i-write-better-than-she-does.html' title='I write better than she does!'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-2576771279508763345</id><published>2008-05-26T08:39:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-26T08:50:45.483-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connie'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Eva'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Texting 4 Privacy</title><content type='html'>4 reasons I will xxplain l8er in the week, my mom recently drove me and Eva downtown.  She had Connie Poirer in the front passenger seat w/her, so Eva and I were sitting 2gether in the back.  Eva took out her fone and texted, "who = the old guy n front?"  I texted back "no guy.  mom's frnd connie."  Eva texted back "ew."  I texted, "yeah."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Mom sed, "R U girls comfortable back there?"  And I sed, "Uh-huh."  I was texting 2 Jeremy, "mom = annoying."  Then she was saying sumthing abt, "It's taking a long time 2 get downtown.  There's so much traffic."  While she was stopped in traffic, she turned 2 look @ us, all, "U 2 R awfully quiet!  Don't Uhave NEthing 2 say 2 ea other?"  And I sed, "Yeah!  Sure!"  And Eva and I simulthought, "But not aloud" as I was TICKA TICK TEXT TICK TICK-ing sumthing abt how hard it is 2 tell Mom apart from Dad.  "the rl rsn 4 the bun," I was writing.  Eva went back 2 her own fone and texted, "lolololol!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanx 4 the &lt;a href="http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/mike-was-horrid-little-kid.html#c687357315088282515"&gt;encouraging words&lt;/a&gt;, patrickrsghost.  It's just so like Mike 2 lob out the low blows like that, and then act all innocent, like he's not a heartless bastard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-2576771279508763345?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/2576771279508763345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=2576771279508763345' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2576771279508763345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/2576771279508763345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/texting-4-privacy.html' title='Texting 4 Privacy'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13904447.post-6308591114914860208</id><published>2008-05-25T08:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2008-05-25T08:34:18.220-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mike'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Lawrence'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='gratuitous reminiscing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Sundays'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='stoopidity'/><title type='text'>Mike was a horrid little kid</title><content type='html'>Well, it's Sunday, and U know what that means.  Totally random topic change.  This time we have more from Mike's sordid past, w/this message Mike posted l8 last nite:  &lt;blockquote&gt;April,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Formerly little sis. After spending time with my mother and her dogs, my children were pestering me about getting birds for a new pet, since they have grown tired of their rabbit and the rabbit has learned how to hide where my kids can't find it. However, I had to refuse them. When they asked why, I said to them, "After I tell you this story, you will completely understand why." My children groaned and moaned about it, but eventually they relented by listening to my story. This is what it was:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;Years ago, I and my friend Lawrence Poirier used to spend hours together outside, playing in the grass with no shoes on. On one of these days, I decided to make a bird trap. Lawrence was confused by this and I said, "Whatsa matter? You never seen a bird trap, before?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I explained, “To make a good bird trap, Lawrence…ya start with a lasso and then ya disguise it with dirt…” and as I was saying this, I took the lasso I had made and started uprooting dirt from the ground to cover the lasso. This way, instead of looking like a lasso on the ground, it looked like an intoxicated mole had been in the area. This was a common problem in Milborough and so the birds would find it completely normal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I said, “For bait, you get a bunch of ol’ bread crumbs an’ a couple a defunct worms…” I pointed to the bait I had gotten from mom’s kitchen when she made bread that time, and a couple of worms ate it and almost immediately died. As I was showing this part of the presentation, Lawrence’s eyes got very big. I think it had something to do with the fact that my mom had given his mom some of that bread.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got on the other side of that lasso, holding it in my hand, and hiding behind a tree. I said, “—Now we just wait.” Lawrence on the other side of the tree, also hiding out, and he said, “Do we have to wait long?” Already his patience has been waning and we just started.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We waited and waited and waited and waited, until the sun started to go down and put shadows on the other side of the tree where we were waiting. Lawrence said, “We’ve been waitin’—an’ waiting an’ waiting, Michael…when are we gonna catch something?” My initial thought was to let Lawrence know it had been 4 waits and not the 3 he mentioned. Clearly he missed a wait. However, I decided not to respond.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It grew dark and still I waited. Lawrence started to fall asleep. Then his mother got him and said, “Lawrence Poirier. Where have you been?” Then Lawrence told his mom about the bird trap. She said, “Why would you ever want to trap a wild bird in a bird trap?” Lawrence didn’t have a good answer for that one. His mom took him home, leaving me alone with the bird trap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It grew even darker, and finally I cried out to the birds, &lt;b&gt;DUMB BIRDS!”&lt;/b&gt; to express my angst over the whole situation. And that, I said to my children, is why we will not be getting any birds for pets.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After hearing my plaintive story of my past with birds, my kids said, “Where’s mommy?” And they went off to talk to her about something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These kids today don’t have the stamina that Lawrence and I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Michael Patterson&lt;/blockquote&gt;Aw, Mike.  What a mean, brutal kid U were.  What xxactly were U planning 2 do w/the poor bird once U caught it, NEway?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing I agree with is that yr kids shd not get a bird, or NE other pet 4 that matter.  But not cuz of NEthing in yr sad, sick story.  If they R "tired of" Buttsy, then getting another pet is the last thing they shd B allowed 2 do.  Animals are not playthings 2 B put away when U're bored w/them.  They R living beings that need love, attention, and affection.  And of course food, water, and a clean, safe, environment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apes&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13904447-6308591114914860208?l=aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/feeds/6308591114914860208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13904447&amp;postID=6308591114914860208' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6308591114914860208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13904447/posts/default/6308591114914860208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://aprilsrealblog.blogspot.com/2008/05/mike-was-horrid-little-kid.html' title='Mike was a horrid little kid'/><author><name>Albanymous</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06364188321350027405</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry></feed>
