Oh Nuts!!

A good friend of ours has a t-shirt that has a picture of a squirrel on the front with a large pile of nuts behind it and he is holding a stick. Underneath, the statement ‘Protect Your Nuts’ is printed in large letters.

I laugh when I see him wearing it, which is usually when our families go camping together…

Every guy that sees it, laughs but then gives him the slight ‘knowing’ nod…

It’s a brotherhood-of-men kind of thing that, they swear, we ladies just don’t “get”

Oh, we “get” it all right…

We have a sisterhood our own…

The sisterhood of PMS, cramps, periods, pregnancies, swollen ankles and of childbirth, which, I’m sorry, is waaay more of a big deal than the old snip-snip that so many men drag their feet over doing!

My brave husband was one of the few men that didn’t need begging to prompt him to go in for the BIG “V”…

Oh, he cares plenty about his nuts (and his bolt too!) but he’s valiant…. and didn’t want me to have to endure yet another ‘thing’ (he’s the BEST!)

It’s funny how men can go to war,

Play Hockey, Football, or any number of contact sports…

Kill spiders and carry out a plethora of fearless acts…

Yet any mention of tampering in ANY WAY with the family jewels, and they are reduced to the emotional age of seven or eight.

On that note, I MUST mention my fascination with the verbiage used to describe certain things…

One can only assume that jewels are referred to in a figurative way…

Because I don’t think anyone would argue that point that the ‘jewels’ that they so lovingly refer to, are nowhere nearly as beautiful as, let’s say, emeralds or sapphires…

I’ve heard many a grown man reduced to speaking like a 3^rd grader when the word vasectomy is brought up…

“There is nooo wayyy anyone is messin’ with the boys!!” (While pointing at his crotch with a pained expression on his face)

My brother used to say “Ooo! I got kicked where it counts!’

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve been living with boys for my entire life and NEVER ONCE did I lay in bed and hear an unfamiliar voice from the other room reciting one…two…. three…

I know what you are thinking….

That I’m a juvenile delinquent….

I must take umbrage with that statement! I haven’t been a juvenile in; oh lets see… 30 years or so!

But I truly don’t get it!

They are a body part, like your foot or your ear or that dingley-dangley thing that hangs down in the back of your throat when you stick out your tongue and say “AHHHHH!”

Face the facts guys:

1) They aren’t really “nuts”

2) Nor are they actually “jewels”

3) They are incapable of counting or any other type of speech

4) Though they are a boy-part… they aren’t actually “boys”

So ladies!
If one day, you happen to have this discussion with your man, and you've mutually decided that your nest is full enough, you might want to throw out this little piece of information…

The average cost of raising a child is in the neighborhood of $275,000!

That will hit him where it REALLY counts….

His bank account!

If that doesn’t get him to consider having a heart to heart with his “boys”…

I don’t know what will!

Next Time... Just Hold It!!

Did I mention that a while back I lost quite a few pounds?

Don’t worry though….

I found them…. (and a few more that I’m certain don’t belong to me!)

In my defense, I AM the mother of five, and that fact I’ve personally used as the icepack to soothe the headache of my weight problem…

That was, until BFF Les came into my life and has completely ruined that illusion forever, seeing as she is now also the mother of five and is still petite and cute as a button…

I’m NOT bitter though….

One of the coolest things about losing all that weight is that I was suddenly fitting into clothes that I hadn’t had the nerve to try on since I had put the extra pounds on!
Like form fitting tops, skirts and cute jeans!
I was thoroughly enjoying my newfound clothing freedom, so it probably won’t surprise you too much that I actually bought myself a cool two-piece bathing suit…
It was navy blue with pink and purple polka dots on it… and it was super cute!
It was not really a bikini, but more like a tankini with a bikini top, except the bottom was an adorable little skort! A reverse-tankini of sorts..... very sophisticated!

Boy! I sure did love that new suit!

Naturally, when my sisters came down for a visit that year and we all headed for the beach, I was sporting my new polka dot suit! Proudly, I might add!

We found a great spot on the sand that we could enjoy soaking up the sun on and were enjoying catching up on all of the girl talk that we hadn’t had in a while…

At some point, I excused myself to run up to the restroom.

On the way back, I noticed I was getting some ‘looks’, that of course, I was totally flattered over!
I mean, I had a new body and people were noticing!
I think that I even had a new spring in my step as I made my way back to our spot!

‘Life is Good!’ is the thought that was running through my head as I wound my way through the crowd towards my crew!

Did your Mother ever tell you that ‘All Good Things Must Come to an End’…

It’s totally true!!

As I journeyed past all of the piles of towels and beach chairs with their owners on them, unbeknownst to me, I was dragging a long…
NO…
A VERY long piece of toilet paper that had accidentally gotten tucked into the back of my skort bottom!!

My ego-bubble popped in that instant and wave of humiliation washed over me as my sisters began laughing until they began to weep and were bent over in complete hysterics…

When they finally composed themselves, it took only a glance at me sitting there to cause them to begin howling with laughter all over again…
and again…
for the rest of the day…
and the rest of the week that they were visiting…

I don’t blame them…

I am the first one to lose control of myself at their expense…

It runs in our family…

Believe it or not, that wasn’t my last experience of toilet paper trying to escape a public restroom via me, but it was my last experience in that two-piece bathing suit…

As I’ve been trying to rid myself of the extra pounds that I found, I have fantasized about seeing myself on the beach in a new, even cuter 2-piece suit…

But this time, if I notice people giving me 'the look', instead of being flattered, I’ll assume the worst, stop right where I am and check for a TP trail!

Wonderful Feelings (WF's)...

WF # 246

Have you ever woken up in the middle of the night and just had a quick look at the clock and realized that you had 3 wonderful hours more to sleep before the alarm would go off?

Bliss!

WF # 782

Have you ever reached into a pocket of a pair of pants you haven’t worn in a while and pulled out some folded up money that you forgot you had?

Sah-weet!

WF # 122

Have you ever bumped into someone you knew from high school and walked away a little bit happier knowing that they weren’t skinny any more either?

Stellar!

The preceding wonderful feelings were presented to (hopefully) brighten your day!

Full of ... What?!

My friend Les and I, are outside-of-the-box kind of thinkers…

That’s the type that we have self-proclaimed ourselves to be, and
refuse to listen to those who want to bring us down
and say we’re just full of…

Oh never mind!!!

We are constantly coming up with cool ideas, and thinking of ways that we can use them to give us a financial boost…

Have you ever watched Oprah, when she invites ordinary people on her show who have experienced huge success with a idea that they ran with…

Our motto: If they can do it, so can we… and we use that adage to prime the pump of our ‘idea well’. Once we remind each other of the (self-proclaimed) creative edge we have, usually we get all excited and commit to formulating a plan -

Brainstorming typically follows…

Ideas flowing next…

Then usually lunch (because all that thinking has made us hungry)

None of our ideas has actually paved our road to success yet, but that doesn’t stop us. We are tenacious about our dreams.

The following is an abbreviated list of potential jobs and/or inventions we are working on… which our friends lovingly refer to as our “cockamamie idea list”

1. A cooking show like Rachel Ray’s but even better, because we would star in it and we are way more entertaining than she is…

2. Becoming power sellers on e-bay…

3. Becoming food critics and take restaurant world by storm…

4. Opening an RV gadget store (I really LOVE this idea!)

5. Winning the lottery (less of an idea, more like a wish… a really good wish!)

6. Market and sell Beer Slushies (this is our own original idea and admit it… YOU wish that YOU had come up with it first!)
Confess!!…. You’d love to get brain freeze from one of these!

We could call them Icee-House or maybe Slosh Puppies…

Unfortunately, we probably won’t be able to sell them to the deserving folks who need them most…
Little league parents at ball fields all over the world, who endure long, torturous, blazing hot, sunny days for their children…
(if you’ve ever been one, you’ll completely understand what I mean!)

Our time just hasn’t arrived yet. But we believe it will one day…

Just not this week…

because I forgot to buy my lottery ticket…

But we have heard rumors that Rachel might be retiring soon…

So please understand that if you try to phone this week, we may not answer, just in case the Food Channel tries to call!

A Short Story...

One of my favorite children's books is "IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE…."



I had an idea to pen an autobiography of sorts in this same style.

When I tried to re-write it to tell my tale, it became a really short story…

Page 1. If you give Jackie a cookie

Page 2. She’ll ask you for some milk to go with it (and a straw too)

Page 3. The milk will remind her of how much she loves cookies

Page 4. So she’ll definitely ask you for more and more until they are all gone…

The whole darned plate of them!

THE END!

Does anyone have the number of a good publisher?

myspace...

Son number three moved out a couple of weeks ago…
He has inhabited the converted (large) fourth bedroom for years.

Secretly I’ve been coveting that space for a very long time…
I don’t think anyone knew it though, because I am really good at hiding these kinds of emotions…
A year or two ago I might have mentioned my plans for that room some-day…
I may have said something along the lines of ‘When Jared moves out someday, don’t any of you get any ideas about that room because its MINE!’

Okay, so I guess that might have clued a few of the gang in…
But I swear, that half the time no one listens to me anyway, so perhaps not…

There comes a time in every young mans life when he needs to spread his wings and fly to new horizons…
In this case, it is a house that he is renting with two buddies a couple of miles from here…

He seems to still be basking in the glory of his newfound adult life…
I’m sure that will keep him feeling all warm and fuzzy…

That is, until the utility bills start coming in.
Maybe then he will finally grasp the concept of why we have wailed and gnashed our teeth over the length of the showers that he always enjoyed here… while WE were paying the electric and water bills…

By this time next month, he’ll probably be taking army showers…
You know the kind –

Water on and get wet…
Water off…
Soap up…
Water back on and rinse…
Water off…

These will begin once he gets a load of the fact that long showers may cost him money that could take away from funds spent on “fun stuff”…

Like food…

My husband tried to comfort me with a few words… ‘He’ll be back’

Those words only fueled my fire.
I knew that I needed to kick it into gear and hurry to try and fix up that space, so it would no longer even remotely resemble a bedroom …
I was now on a personal mission to convert his old room into what I like to call My family room/den!

Our boy stopped by a few days after he had officially moved out, to pick up the rest of his things that he had left behind, only to find me getting ready to paint…
’What the heck?!’ was all he could say…
I told him that I would have been doing it even if he hadn’t moved out… and I think he believed me…

One day…

That’s all it took me to transform that space into a wonderful new space…
I painted, hung pictures, spread an area rug out and rearranged the room complete with love seat and the entertainment center that he left behind…

I was so proud of myself and so was my husband…
I don’t think he knew how much I could get done in a single day…
Which I now realize could make me look bad when I experience an “off” day, and don’t get very much accomplished!

In the meantime, we have a new room in which we can thoroughly enjoy ourselves and our son has his own abode.

These days, you might find me out there, just sitting with a grin on my face…

I’m enjoying every moment of it, because I realize that down the road, all that wing spreading could prove to be too much for my little bird, and he may flutter home one day…

Our flock always makes room for one of it’s own…

So I hope son number four, won’t mind having a roommate…

Because My family room/den is OFF LIMITS!

Don't Make Me Come Over There...

I’ll give you something to cry about…

Ever hear that one when you were a kid?

My Dad used to use that little ditty on us all of the time…

I was never quite sure what he meant by it, because after all, he would say it to me when I was already crying…

I never dared ask him to clarify…

I might have been confused… but I wasn’t stupid!

I vowed to never, EVER use that kind of line on my children, but somehow, somewhere in between then and now, I turned into a parent of five and though I always have tried my hardest to be reasonable and fair, occasionally, I have had a “moment”

By “moment”, I mean ugly, ridiculous, unreasonable, rant and rave fest that, truth be told, is quite embarrassing!

In the past, I have sent out a warning message to all, when I feel I am reaching the threshold to my ‘point of no return’…

It’s a simple phrase… just five little words…

It’s-about-to-get-ugly!!!

That should be fair warning to get the heck out of dodge or at the very least to stop whatever they are doing that is causing my patience to wear thin…
‘Should’ is the operative word here.

In reality, for some reason, my children were all born with an off switch in their brains that short-circuits with regularity.

When they were still standing in heaven, they must have thought they were in the ‘sense’ line, but been in the ‘dense’ line… instead.

In actual fact, all of my offspring are quite intelligent; so don’t get me wrong when I say that they lack sense.

Come to think of it, they don’t lack common sense…

Their problem is directly related to the lack of ability to know when to stop drop and roll when they have pushed either of their parents to the brink…

Picture this – you are camping and your fire is smoldering (this represents me and my patience) and it happens to be time for lights out…

You (this represents my kids) have in front of you two items and it’s within your power to choose which to use…

One is a bucket of dirt…

The other is a bucket of gas…

Do I really have to spell it out?!

This type of ‘moment’ happens less than it used to, because in actual fact I am down to only two teenagers left at home to deal with daily.

When I had all five still living at home, ‘it got ugly’ all the time…

In truth, I have used the old ‘give you something to cry about’ line more than once…

There.

I’ve said it…

Guess what?

I feel better for getting that off my chest.

We are all only human after all…

So next time you have a moment with one of your kids and blast out one of your own lines from the past, remember not to be too hard on yourself…

Don’t close yourself in the bathroom and weep with guilt…

Because if I need to, I’ll come right over there and give you something to cry about!!

Punk-tuation...

I have a little problem…

It has something to do with my compulsion to end (or not actually end) many of my sentences with three periods in a row…

Like this…

I like to think of it as my ‘signature style’

I’m sure all of you English teachers out there have a better name for it…
Like wrong...
Or maybe dumb…

You’ll find that I won’t disagree with you about the wrong part…
But I do remember way back in the day, my creative writing teacher always said to express yourself in your own unique way…

Guess what?
I do…
I’m a rebel... with a flaw(s) (I couldn’t resist!)

Sometimes, I even use two completely different punctuation marks at the end of the same sentence…
Come on!
You may have done it a time or two as well…
Especially when you are trying to make a strong point, e.g., “Are you kidding me?!”
It’s like you are asking a question, but you know you’re not going to believe the answer.

It may be wrong, but it seems sooo right
(Oh! …And sometimes I throw in a few extra o’s to make my point)

Does that make me a bad person?!
(Don’t answer that question, because you’ll see that I’ve ended it with a DDPM (double different punctuation mark) which clearly indicates that I probably won’t believe your answer anyway)

You may have noticed that I snuck a separate set of parentheses inside the of the other set…
I think that this might also be a bad thing… but quite frankly, I can’t help myself…
When I’m on a roll, there is just no stopping me!

I’m considering writing an open letter of apology to every teacher who tried to instill these rules in me all those years ago.

I would explain that it’s not that they weren’t good at their jobs, but it’s just that I am someone who writes like they think, and that I hope they would look past my punctuation faux pas and accept me for who I am…

After all, I’m more than just some commas or exclamation points…

I’m a freestyler, for gosh sakes!
DON'T JUDGE ME!!

Okay…
That may have been a bit over the top…
I apologize…
But really…
Is it hot in here?!

I’m sooo over it…
So, are we done here?!
(Note the DDPM… again, don’t answer that…)

If it's not broke...

In the spirit of better living, I tried a new recipe last night. It was for baked macaroni and cheese (from scratch) which is something that evokes all kinds of ooo’s and ahhh’s from my crew…

As well as second, and sometimes even third helpings consumed at a rapid rate… Usually…

When I took it out of the oven, it was a beautiful sight to behold!

I was so excited that not only was I about to serve a family favorite, but I had found a way to make it healthier for them and the secret ingredient held a promise, and I quote, “Don’t tell and no one will ever know. They’ll just thank you for making their favorite cheesy comfort food”

I had thoughts of telling all of my friends that I had discovered a better way…

They would gather round with anticipation written all over their faces and scrap paper and pens poised to record history.

That would come later… After it passed the taste test of professionals, a.k.a. my husband and kids.

I’m sure you are at the edge of your seat wondering what this fantastic health tip/miracle compound is, so I won’t keep you waiting any longer.

Frozen winter squash.

You know, the kind that comes pureed, is packaged in a frozen block and if you were in a pinch and were stranded in the arctic with no tools, but happen to have a duffle bag full of these babies, you could build yourself an igloo to escape the elements.

Come to think of it, I’m not sure that I could actually build an igloo because the round-roof- shape-part, puzzles me and I wouldn’t even know how to begin to construct it.

I would probably make a square-ish shaped fort, because THAT I can do. It would be roofless though, and I would probably freeze to death (hopefully before the polar bears found me)

Where was I again?

Oh right… squash.

It made perfect sense to me and quite frankly, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t thought of it myself. It’s the right color, and the perfect consistency to mix right in there with all that cheese and be totally camouflaged!

PLUS – BONUS! I love squash! Perfect!

As I mentioned before, it did look beautiful.

I served it up with another, not so healthy favorite. Baked cheese-stuffed hot dogs wrapped in crescent rolls.

I tried not to think about the hot dog part and why I love them so…

My friend tells me that they contain eyes, lips and another ingredient that I will spare you from hearing
(but it rhymes brass-poles)

I tell myself it must be the seasoning I love, and not all those disgusting ingredients.

It makes me wonder why they can’t just sell it in a bottle with the rest of the McCormick spices so that we could season chicken or any other more palatable meat with it.

Back to the subject at hand.

We sit down to eat and I try not to look too anxious as everyone takes a bite of their mac and cheese. They usually will mistake me looking at them eating, as an invitation to critique the meal, which never goes over well with me, so I purposely look at my own food and proceed to eat.

‘Hey Mom… what’s in this mac and cheese?’ my daughter inquires.

“LOTS of cheese and stuff”

Notice how I say ‘and stuff’ instead of ‘squash’…. I’m so tricky!

‘I thought I tasted something different’ she adds.

More looking at my plate without making eye contact…

We all eat without any more discussion about the meal.

I’m the only one who goes back for seconds…

Because I love squash-

and that’s what it primarily tasted like, with barely a hint of the $8.00 worth of cheese that was in there as well.

The claims made in the magazine where I found the recipe were inaccurate.

I didn’t tell, but guess what?

They knew.

My husband quietly came to me after dinner and said “the mac and cheese…” and pointed his thumb towards the floor.

He did say it was worth trying though, and that it could have been a success,

if it hadn’t tasted so bad.

I wasn’t offended… which is weird for me, because I am quite sensitive about my cooking skills. But I knew that it was his way of being supportive.

I won’t say that I won’t keep trying new things, but I might think twice about changing up something that everyone feels so passionate about.

So don’t even think about sending me a new & improved recipe for something my family already loves.

As my mother always said, If it’s not broke – don’t fix it!

But now that I’m thinking about it, does anyone have the address of McCormick Spice Company’s R & D department?

I’ve got an idea to share with them!

Slight misunderstanding...

I overheard a lady talking yesterday about her daughter who was in a gymnastics group and needed to make up a class because she had missed one due to illness…

The little girl was maybe 4 or 5…

Apparently she was very excited about the thought of going to her class …

She found herself quite disappointed when she arrived only to find that it was just a regular old gymnastic class….

She started crying and wanted to know where the heck the makeup was?

She thought it was an actual ‘makeup class’…
you know, of the lipstick, blush and eye shadow variety...

I HATE when things like that happen…

It can ruin your entire day!

'Shout Out' to my Brothers...

I am the mother of four boys…

And one daughter…

I always say that I have never second-guessed God for choosing to give me lots of boys and only one girl…

The Big Guy knows me and knows how I am…

I have two sisters, but mainly grew up with brothers because they were the closest in age to me.

Therefore, I understand boys… you know, snips and snails and puppy dog tails…

That…. and a bit more…

For instance - boys think that farts are hilarious.

This fact I learned at an early age, beginning with my three brothers who taught their sister more than any girl would ever need to know about the comical things one can do while passing gas -

1. Sneak up and catch an unsuspecting sibling who was watching Gilligan's Island or another of their favorite shows on TV - jump on top of them and do the dirty deed while holding them down so they can’t escape.

2. Light them – it’s possible… BELIEVE ME! (I’ve witnessed it with my own eyes!)

3. Compete for the loudest / smelliest / grossest – whatever suited their mood that day

There is more to boys though, than just cutting the cheese…

They also love to watch guys beat the tar out of each other on television
They feel a love, or at the very least, a deep fascination in all kinds of weaponry

Here’s the best part – they are pretty much an open book…
In other words - What you see is what you get!

I appreciate that about them

Girls are sugar and spice and everything nice
That, and a measure of drama, some cattiness and mood swings that would test Mother Theresa’s patience.
They are complex creatures that are multi faceted.

In other words - What you see isn’t necessarily what you get.
Even though I am one, I don’t understand "them"!

I don’t recall being all of those things when I was a teenager!
Surely I didn’t drive my mother to throw her hands to the sky and say ‘Give me strength!'

Or did I?

Looking back, I can recall a few of those kinds of moments, but I’ve also realized something about myself.
My brothers’ influences had a profound effect on the kind of girl that I became.
They taught me to not take myself too seriously.
To be an open book instead of a sparkly complicated creature
My feathers don’t ruffle easily.

They can also be ‘credited’ with my ‘rough edges’
(much to both of my sisters’ dismay)
But that’s who I am….

Mother of four boys and one girly-girl who like me, doesn’t gasp at the stinky boy stuff that we are subject to from time to time…

So I’m sending a “shout out” to my bro’s -
Thanks for everything! (except maybe for the times you sat on me and let one rip – and made me miss the part where Gilligan was finally helping them get off that doggoned island!)

Say WHAT?!

Years ago, when my first son was around nine or so, he posed a question that blindsided me. I mean, I was totally taken off guard and ill prepared to answer him.

‘What’s a condom?’ he asked.

Wow! I knew that sooner or later this type of inquiry would come my way, but I figured that I had a bit more time to prepare.

‘I’m a mature adult, I can handle it, right?’, I thought to myself…

I believe I’ve already established the fact that when it comes to what strikes me funny, I am a bit warped, so it may not surprise you that at this point, not only was I feeling stressed, but the thought of having to use correct anatomical names as I was delicately treading these uncharted waters, was making me feel like a giggle might bubble out of me any second.

My talk went something like this –

Blah Blah Blah… Married people….yadda yadda yadda….love each other

Cut to the technical stuff….

Blah blah blah…. wiener penis (chuckle being suppressed)…. blah blah blah

Yadda yadda yadda…

Blotches appearing on my chest and neck (another of my ‘issues’)

DOING IT intercourse… (another snicker contained)… yada yada… wonderful thing……MARRIED people do… etc…etc….

The entire conversation took maybe five minutes, but felt like five hundred minutes, at least!

Once I finished, I remember feeling a huge sense of relief, as well as some pride in myself for overcoming my childish embarrassment and handling another parenting challenge successfully.

I decided it would be appropriate to ask if he had any questions for me once I finished.

“No” he said “But I thought they were a place where you live… you know, like an apartment!”

Oh - my - gosh!

I am SUCH a loser!

Open Mouth, Insert Foot...

I was introduced to a girl recently and have seen her on three or four occasions over the last few months.

I like her a lot!

She’s really smart and has a great sense of humor.

I’m telling you all of that right up front, because when I tell you the next part of the story, you may think that I have something against her…

Which I don’t….

I just had a moment, which would win a blooper award hands down!

(don’t ask why I am always talking about winning awards… I have no good answer for that question!)

Okay, so we were sitting around, and she began talking about her family, her job... you know, the usual stuff.

Then she grabbed her purse and whipped out a picture of her son sitting with a cat.

Here’s the part of the story where I start to look bad…

REAL BAD!

I look at the picture of a cute little boy and a furry little kitty…

My brain betrays me at this point.

It sees a cute little cat and an adorable little black boy.

I’m taken off guard, because I never heard her mention (why would she) that her marriage was interracial. (I really don’t care…. I have absolutely NO PROBLEM with it! – Seriously!)

So what pops out of my mouth, you ask?

“What a cute cat!”

WHAT did I just SAY?

I’m a moron and I know it….

And now she knows it too.

My recovery?

Exactly 2.3 seconds later, I threaten my grey matter with all kinds of damaging effects...
(like sniffing jumbo permanent markers…or sucking on whipped cream canisters…)

if it doesn’t say something smart quickly…

Anything to provoke it to get me out of this one!

“And how old did you say your son is? He’s adorable!”

She seemed to be okay with it. Although, as I said, she’s a smart lady.

I seemed to have escaped causing any permanent damage to our blossoming friendship.

No thanks to myself!

On the way home, I had a heart to heart with my brain and my mouth.

I made it clear that they were both on double secret probation and unless they minded their P’s & Q's better, we would be staying home.

Not to sound paranoid or anything, but I think they may be in cahoots against me, because I’ve noticed that recently, when I go to say something, common words escape me and sometimes I don’t even pronounce them properly.

I have a remedy in store for that problem!
I’m going to make them work extra hard this week…
By reading the newspaper aloud each day…
I’ll show them not to mess with me!

Wouldn’t it be nice if we started relationships out by sparing our new friends the kind of embarrassment that I endured in this case?

Maybe we should take a lesson from the way AA meetings are conducted...

From now on I will start out by saying,
Hello. My name is Jackie and I am married to a wonderful Caucasian, bald man.

That way, if they see his picture one day and had never considered the possibility that my better-half is follicly challenged,

They won’t say something they might regret like

“Oh Wow! Did Olan Mills do this portrait?"