humor lifestyle storytelling

A Gruesome Industrial Injury

A gruesome industrial injury


Our roof was destroyed in the hailstorm.

The roofers are here today.

They’ve been pounding and banging and making a racket since 7:00 am.

I can’t complain.

There’s no quiet way to get a new roof.

However, in the past hour, the workers have been making a horrible screaming noise.

I can’t tell if it’s a gruesome industrial injury or not.

The same company is doing several houses on our street.

They’re probably just calling out to each other.

If someone were hurt, they would most likely stop banging and pounding and go to the aid of their poor dismembered colleague.

I haven’t heard any sirens. Yet.

Hopefully they will finish the roof without any gruesome injuries.

family humor storytelling

It Was a Mystery

It was a mystery


It was a mystery.

At 6:00 am, there was an enormous mess of a white powdery dust all over the kitchen floor.

It started in the pantry and trailed across the kitchen.

The trash cans were covered it in.

The laundry room had also been nailed.

It’s where we keep the cleaning supplies, and the broom and dustpan were covered in it too.

My first thought was drugs.

Yeah, I like to watch crime shows.

My head said flour.

But my heart was hoping that Lennie Briscoe would come knocking on my door.

I had two suspects.

The first Grown Son is a slob and would never clean up his own mess.

Since an attempt was made to sweep, he was eliminated as a suspect.

The second Grown Son occasionally makes a slight effort to clean up.

He got the blame.

But he vehemently denied it.

The first Grown Son was confronted.

He burst out laughing and confessed that he had knocked over the flour during a midnight snack.

I informed him that flour can’t be cleaned with a broom.

It just flies around and makes an even bigger mess.

This situation calls for the shop vac.

We’ve got our own Breaking Bad crime drama right here at home.

Or maybe not.

family humor storytelling

I Love Them More Than Cookies

I love them more than cookies


I made some cookies with Easter M&Ms.

It’s a tradition.

However, both Grown Sons are T1 diabetic.

We don’t need that much temptation.

I packed up half of the cookies into the freezer.

The Grown Sons were not amused.

They thought it was a practical joke.

It’s no joke.

I swear.

I love them more than cookies.

Which is saying a lot.

Because I really do love cookies.

reading storytelling

It’s a Sad Day for the Arts

It's a Sad Day for the Arts

It’s a sad day for the arts.

Larry McMurty has passed. He wrote Lonesome Dove. That was his most famous book, but he wrote lots and lots of other books including Horseman Pass By, Leaving Cheyanne and The Last Picture Show. Lonesome Dove was by far my favorite McMurtry Book. I just love the love/hate friendship between Woodrow and Gus. I may have to re-read that book to honor McMurtry’s passing.

Beverly Cleary has passed. She wrote an enormous collection of children’s books. Her most famous is the Ramona The Pest series which included Ramona and Beezus and Henry and Ribsy. She also wrote the Ralph Mouse series and Ellen Tebbits. I read every single book she wrote when I was a kid. She had the rare ability to capture the true spirit of a child in her stories. Beverly Cleary will be missed, but her books will live on because they are timeless.

Jessica Walter has passed. She had a prolific acting career, but I will remember her best as Lucille Bluth in Arrested Development. She was a very lovely lady, so I’m sure she had a lot of fun playing such a self-absorbed sourpuss of a character. I’m going to have to re-watch Arrested Development and pay special attention to her character because her quotes are scathing gems.

Dr. Seuss said once, “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

It’s a sad day for the arts.

But I’m smiling because it happened.

humor lifestyle storytelling

The Porta Potty Guy

The Porta Potty Guy


I was driving down a two-lane country road.

I kept plenty of room between me and the pick-up in front of me.

The guy behind me was annoyed.

He wanted me to speed up.

I refused.

He rage-lane-changed around me.

And then he pulled up short.

And slowed down to give the truck in front plenty of room.

Yeah, the guy in front was hauling a couple of Porta Potties.

You’d have to be in a crazy-insane kind of hurry to crowd the Porta-Potty Guy.

I’ve never been in that kind of a hurry.

I’ll never be in that kind of a hurry.

But if anyone ever wants to test it out, it would be very entertaining to watch.

family lifestyle storytelling

What a Storm We Had Last Night!

What a storm we had last night!

What a storm we had last night!

We had three inches of rain and hail the size of baseballs.

The roof is trashed.

The cars are trashed.

This morning the neighborhood was flooded with roofers and body shops.

The guy who is doing our roof didn’t climb up to do his inspection.

He used a drone which sent pictures down to his tablet.

I never knew that property damage could be so much fun!

The contractors put yard signs in front of the houses they are working for.

It’s not only for advertising, it’s also to ward off the door-to-door guys.

Apparently some of the door-to-door guys can’t read.

They’re ringing the doorbell anyway.

The doorbell guys are by far the most annoying aspect of this storm.

family humor storytelling

Happy Birthday To You

Happy birthday to you


Happy birthday, Peyton Manning.

We started the celebration early in the morning with Belgian waffles and bananas foster.

The party continued into the dinner hour.

With spaghetti and meatballs.

Everything was fresh and homemade.

Of course, there was a birthday cake for dessert.

Peyton never showed up.

That was kind of rude.

But luckily it was Bob’s birthday too.

The celebration didn’t go to waste.

We watched our favorite clip of Manning on SNL.

And spent the rest of the day quoting things like, “Loser,” and “You suck,” and “It’s not that f**king hard.”

The skit ended with “Spend time with your kids, so Peyton Manning doesn’t.”

Maybe next year, Peyton, maybe next year.

humor lifestyle storytelling

That Is An Outright Lie

That is an outright lie



Socks are the bane of my existence.

I hate socks.

Women’s socks are labeled as one-size-fits-all.

That is an outright lie.

The one-size-fits-all sock is never small enough nor snug enough.

In the girl’s department socks have sizes, but the large size is 4-10.

Which is the same as the one-size-fits-all sock.

The medium size is 10-2.

Excuse me?

There is an unaccounted-for size that wants to wear socks that fit.

Too-big socks create a sock bump.

Which is a nightmare.

Too-small socks slide down and bunch up.

Which is a nightmare.

Is a 2-6 size range for socks too much to ask for?

Apparently it is too much to ask for.

Thank goodness for flip-flops.

family humor storytelling

They Have Been Warned

They have been warned


My back is feeling much, much better.

I am no longer hobbling.

But I am very, very stiff.

The Grown Sons have been taking full advantage of the situation.

They have been placing garbage in the hood of my sweatshirt.

I can’t twist around to get it out.

They think they’re hilarious.


I’m tired.

I’ve lost the will to care.

If it’s just paper, I can live with it.

However, if I discover that they’ve put anything gloppy back there, like a yogurt lid or a banana peel, they will be eligible for the death penalty.

They have been warned.

family humor storytelling

Happy Birthday, Mom

Happy Birthday, Mom

Happy birthday, Mom.

She’s been gone for many years now.

I make a chicken tetrazzini dinner every year to celebrate her birthday.

Part of the tradition involves the Grown Sons complaining bitterly about the mushrooms.

This year, emboldened by his pending move to his own apartment, one Grown Son rudely declared, “Those mushrooms smell like the dog’s a$$hole.”

This led to an animated discussion about how in the world he came to know that particular bit of information.

Grandma would have thoroughly enjoyed this conversation.

In no particular order of preference, Mom loved:

  1. Her grandkids
  2. Sauteed mushrooms
  3. A well-placed insult

If anyone ever wonders what it’s like to be a boymom, it can be summed up as a lively discussion about the dog’s a$$hole while lovingly preparing Grandma’s birthday dinner.

Happy birthday, Mom, I miss you every day.