My Little Red Wagon…

Short and sweet tonight. I’m supposed to be trying to finish up my final folklore collection project and paper due today and have to wake up in 12-1/2 minutes to sit in the dentist chair for 5 years. Oh teeth… birds have it made in the shade… they can fly and they have no dagnabbed teeth! The worm thing is a little disconcerting, but I digress.

Back in the olden years of Whitney and sister Lindsay, we had a little red wagon that we would tie to the back of our bikes and tear through the trailer court carrying all sorts of treasured items, stuffed animals, tea pots, nekked and immodest and anatomically incorrect Barbies… you know, things all little girls dream of. It would always tip over around every turn, so we’d stop in the middle of the road to pick up all of our treasures and play dodge the speeding car… oh memories. As we grew older, the wagon remained, but it also rusted out and lost its sheen, the wheels became shredded, and the brightness of the fire engine red faded to a putrid mauve-ish color. Kind of exactly like Whitney, but with more wheels and way less teeth (stay tuned… give me 20 years).

Before BoBo was bourne (bwahahaha… see what I did there?), my dad dug the rusted piece of junk out of the shed, cleaned it up, repainted it, put new wheels on it, and gave it to him. The little red wagon lives on… I hope BoBo uses it for all of his treasured items too… Bring it, BoBo!

See my teefins… Oh BoBo… be a bird!

SPRING!!!!!!!! It smells so glorious standing next to these trees… my allergies don’t agree, but I sure do!

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It’s Too Late To Apologize…

Yesterday during snowcopalypse 2016, when the radio announcers were telling everyone to stay the heck home unless they had 4-wheel drive, we went to the grocery store in a car that barely had half-a-wheel drive.  We like keeping the roads safe… half a wheel at a time.  I’m pretty sure it was karma that whilst we were in the grocery store, we ran into someone I’d hoped I’d never see again for the rest of my entire lifetime.  The last time I’d seen her I was probably 10 years old, and goodness knows I’ve changed since I was 10… because I’m an adult now… and am no longer frizzing my bangs and wearing saucer-sized horn-rimmed spectacles the size of my noggin.  The point of me discussing my appearance from nearly 30 years ago is to say that it was highly likely that this person would never have recognized me if we had passed in the store, but I just so happened to be grocery shopping with Madre, and Madre hasn’t changed a wit in 50 years, so the lady immediately gleed right on over to Madre and gave her a hug… I kept walking, hoping to avoid any awkwardness, but Madre wouldn’t have that, and immediately yelled… and you remember Whitney!?  To which I had to turn back around and feign excitement.   OH HELLLOOOOO… IT’S BEEN AGES!!  

What on Earth do I have against a perfectly nice lady from my childhood?  Not a thing… except that I almost got her children killed approximately 850 times in the space of a neverending summer.  You see, they were our neighbors back in the day, and one year when I happened to be the tender age of 8, I was hired to work full time one summer from 7:30 a.m until 4:30 p.m. Monday through Friday, babysitting her 3 children.  I was 8… the oldest boy was 7, there was a 5-year-old girl, and a 1-year-old baby boy… let me repeat, I was 8!  Mind you, I looked very mature for my age… like a 55-year-old woman with a 5-year-old brain… but looks do not determine maturity, and so the havoc those children wreaked on the house and the neighborhood that summer is stuff that legends are made of.

As an 8-year-old girl, I’d find myself getting so caught up with playing with video games with the 7-year-old or Barbies with the 5-year-old that I’d totally forget about the 1-year-old who by that time was walking all over the place and into everything!  One day, the mom came home to the baby having drawn with permanent black sharpie marker all over a brand new recliner and the walls.  I didn’t even know he was doing it on account of the fact that the Kapers had to be Keystoned and we were on level 10 of the Atari game, Keystone Kapers!

Several times, perfect strangers would knock on the door with the baby in hand saying he had been wandering the streets and they’d almost run him over.  The kids ate what they wanted because Whitney didn’t know how to make toast… let alone anything with health benefits in it.  One day they ate a whole pan of brownies (with my help of course)… brownies that the mother had made to take to a potluck that night.  I was easily distracted and horribly irresponsible… but I was also 8.

Standing in that grocery store yesterday, trying my best to keep my red ears from popping off my noggin, I wanted to apologize for my 8-year-old self, but I didn’t.  I wonder when she saw me if a flood of horrid memories came back to her from the summer all 3 of her children nearly burnt the house down with their 8-year-old babysitter holding the lighter fluid.  I think it’s only fair she make another pan of brownies to celebrate the fact that they all 3 made it to adulthood.  No thanks to Whitney, Babysitting Services Extraordinaire!

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Lindsay says Baby BoBear wants to move to Russia… it’s too cold in Russia Baby BoBo…

They’re also teaching him to straight up lick the nasty shopping cart handles… YOU WILL BE A GERM-A-PHOBE, BoBo!

T

 

Please Won’t You Be… My Neighbor…

I grew up on Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood.  I was friends with Daniel the Tiger and Henrietta Pussycat.  I feared the rigidness of King Friday (feared is not the appropriate word… he was a puppet wearing a crown for gravy’s sake).  I wanted my mailman to be Mr. McFeely and was genuinely upset when he never came.  I rode that trolly into the Land of Make Believe every day as a child… and as 5 year olds are wont to do, I developed a crush on the sweater-wearing teddy bear of a man named Mr. Rogers.  He had a way of making everyone feel important and loved and capable.  He didn’t know me from Adam, but I felt like he knew me because he was talking just to me through the TV screen of my 1970s fuzzy picture box with bunny ears that needed to be adjusted every time the wind blew the wrong way.

I recently discovered that the entirety of Mr. Rogers 30-some-odd years of television programs are available on Amazon for Prime memberships to watch for free.  One late night a few weeks back during one of my many insomnia-induced nights where I search for anything to do that procrastinates homework, I set out to watch a few episodes.  Children’s programming is cheesy… and Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood is like a brick of gouda in a vat of velveeta visiting a hunk of swiss with a mistress of cheddar on the side, but the sentiment is still there.  The kind, caring, genuinely gentle man made me feel as if I was an important and worthwhile specimen… and who doesn’t need that reminder every few decades?

I’m not versed on the children’s programming of today (you mommies out there may be able to tell me), but I doubt that there is a Mr. Rogers equivalent on TV today… and that’s such a shame.  I hope that you who have young kids will take the opportunity to introduce your young’uns to the Land of Make Believe (free for Amazon Prime members… get ye’ there)… tell them Whitney sent you.  In my imagination, they’ll know who you are talking about.  Thank you Mr. Rogers for teaching me a childhood full of lessons about being kind and accepting of all.

“Mutual caring relationships require kindness and patience, tolerance, optimism, joy in the other’s achievements, confidence in oneself, and the ability to give without undue thought of gain.”

–Fred Rogers

 

“Whether we’re a preschooler or a young teen, a graduating college senior or a retired person, we human beings all want to know that we’re acceptable, that our being alive somehow makes a difference in the lives of others.”

–Fred Rogers

Check out this clip of Mr. Rogers accepting the Lifetime Achievement Emmy in 1997.  He brought the whole room to tears by making it about everyone but himself.

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In other news… nephews Christian and Ethan found out baby “it” will be a boy!  Boys, boys, boys everywhere you look!  Guarantee you Auntie Whitney will be making him watch some Mr. Rogers!  Lindsay… it’s totally modern so stop it.

RIP Twinkie…

Lettuce (bwahahahahaha… I always want to do that) take a moment of silence for my childhood pal, Hostess Cupcakes.

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Okay, that’s enough.

It’s been years since I’ve had any sort of Hostess sweet treat, but I remember eating them regularly as a kid.  They were definitely a factorer into my gaining of 530 pounds of blobules.  I remember when I was 14 and 15 years old riding my bike to the Aggie Station just to buy a stash of them without my mom knowing.  She followed me in her car one time without me knowing because she knew I never voluntarily went for the exercise thing at that age, and I was grounded for days after that one.  I can still see her standing there as I walked out of the gas station, stash in hand, her teeth about to draw blood on her bottom lip.  That was her mad face… and boy was it scurry to me.

So, I guess it’s a good thing for me to put that part of my past away.  Goodbye ole Hostess Bakeries.  I’m sorry for the loss of jobs to those who had them and I hope they can all find work elsewhere.

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I may or may not have had a blueberry theme for breakfast last week.  Frozen blueberries are always in season and for some strange reason they are also like double the cost of the frozen other fruit.  They must be an endangered species.  Or like the GOLD of the fruit world.

The muffins are a healthy version of a blueberry muffin… healthy because they are made with wheat flour and applesauce.  They were good.  I froze the suckers and took one out at a time each morning… and now I have enough left to eat for breakfast this week.   The link takes you to the recipe, which is only a single serving version.  I timesed everything by 12 and made 12 because that’s how many muffin tin holes I had available.  Also, Cuties… welcome back to my life.  This was a particularly delicious batch of the suckers… you can’t beat a good Cutie tangeriney thinger.

I’m sure I’ve blogged about Hawaiian Haystacks before?  Beuhler?  It’s amazing what things you can plop together into a bowl and it taste so dang good!  Fruit/vegetables… throw ’em in!  This particular haystack included tomatoes (duh), carrots, celery cheese, almond slivers, raisins, chow mein noodles, pineapple, rice, and cream of celery soup… Um… DELICIOUS!

Question of the Day:  What was your favorite Hostess/Wonder product?  Are you going to miss them? 

Tripping Down Memory Lane…

While I was in the birthplace of Rexburg, ID last weekend, I was feeling nostalgic.   I had an overwhelming urge to visit all of my old haunts and terrorize the new residents of said haunts.  Everything was so much smaller than I remembered it.  Is it possible that places and houses shrink as they age?  People do… why not houses?  I think it has something to do with the Jersey Shore epidemic… our brains are shrinking, so the things around us shrink as well.  Or… maybe it just had something to do with the fact that the memories I had of these places were when I was 1-, 2-, 3- and 4-feet something… and now I’m towering near 5’9″.  Actually… and this made me the happiest of happies!  When I was at the doctor in January for my quarter yearly visit, the nurse kept looking me up and down whilst looking at the chart (the creepiest of creepies)… and she’s like… there’s no way you’re 5’3″… and I’m like, on my knees I’m close… and she’s like… that’s the height they have in your chart.  So, she measured me again (in shoes) and I came in at 5’8″!!!  All these years I thought I was 5’9″ (or 5’3″ according to my chart).  Y’all… I’m practically a short person now… or maybe I did shrink in height during weight loss.

SHUT THE TRAP, Whitney!

Back to the haunts.  The first drive by was my grandparents house.  I have fond memories of that house.  My grandpa was quite the gardener.  He loved his pansies and had a beautiful flower garden in the backyard.  My grandpa passed when I was 7 or 8 years old, but I still remember tending to his flower garden with him when I was a little girl… watering the flowers… and I will always attribute my love for pansies to my grandpa.

There are trees missing from the front yard… and I’m sure the backyard isn’t kept nearly as nicely as it was in the olden days.  In the basement of this house, my grandma had an apartment that she rented out to married college kids.  My sister and I were forever trying to sneak into that apartment.  We got in a couple of times… snoopy snoopersons.  It’s a wonder that I was never hog tied and thrown out the window.  I also remember having wars in the backyard with the neighbor kids through the fence where we’d throw apples at each other and call each other names… it was glorious.  A feeling of happiness still washes over me when I see this little house.

The next stop was to Porter Park… just a couple of blocks from gram’s house.  We used to walk there in the summers… and then beg to ride the carousel.  Rexburgians… is the carousel still open in the summer?  It looked a little sad in March… all shut up.

I had to take a picture of the inside through the glass… which turned out really great as you can guess already!

Then we were off to the house I lived in as a child.  I have a lot of rebble rousing memories about this house… peeing on the neighbor’s sidewalks, wreaking havoc like havoc hadn’t ever been wreaked!

I also remember rolling down that hill, and hoping we didn’t get concussions when we landed in the street and bonked our heads on the pavement… and/or get run over by a car.

If you go to Rexburg and you don’t go to Porter’s… there’s something wrong with your brain space.  Porter’s is pretty much the only store you need to go to.  Porter’s pretty much has everything craft you can think of… everything.  If you want to make something out of dental floss, I’m sure they’d have the supplies.  I somehow missed a picture of the outside, but on the inside I did take pictures of everything owl… and Madre even made her way out the door with this little diddy…

It’s a bobble head owl.  He jiggles if you set him on a table and tap him.  Our final stop down memory lane was to the best chocolate place in the history of the United States.  I’ve eaten my fair share of chocolate… I’m like a chocolate taste tester who pays to taste test.  Where do I get the job the other way around?  Everyone else needs to quit trying… Florence’s Chocolates are HANDS DOWN the best chocolates in the United States of America, Canada, Uruguay, Lichtenburg, Antarctica, and that country I can’t remember the name of.  HANDS DOWN!

Florence, the owner, actually sang at my parent’s wedding back in 1682.  Yes, that wasn’t a typo… it was that long ago!  Florence knows how to make a PMSing chic smile.  I’ll tell you what!  A moment on the lips… a lifetime on the hips.. and DAGNABBED worth every bite of it!

Question of the Day:  Where’s your hometown?  Do you ever go back and walk down memory lane?

Oh look… Baby Cruz is saying bye bye and happy weekend, friends!!  Thanks for sticking with us and have a splendid weekend!

Embarrassing and Unflattering Picture Time… Lindsay…

Sister Lindsay’s birthday is tomorrow… I thought I’d be an exceptionally giving and selfless sister and take this opportunity to share with the world some of her most unflattering and embarrassing pictures (pssstt… Lindzer… where the crimeny puffs is that picture of you talking to yourself in the mirror when you were 25 4?  I done looked everywhere!?!?!?)  😛

Let’s start with this one.  Lindsay is convinced she was adopted because there are no baby pictures of her at the hospital like there are of me… News Flash… it ain’t as cool when it’s #2.  In this picture she seems to be possessed by some demonic spirit… any minute she will rise up and chomp off the head of an unsuspecting photographer… either that or she’s singing her best version of Kumbaya.  As for me… I’m frankly terrified out of my skull.  HELP. ME.

This here picture most exemplifies the real Lindsay (the horns are real).  As you can see, here she is determining the best method to steal the floppy bunny ear’s candy stash. Get in my tummy, candy bar!As for me… frankly, I’m just dagnabbed shocked that I’m allowed to be holding a candy bar!  Also, the wallpaper and the chair fabric… totally back in fashion!

This here was the time they locked me in the mini van and force fed me asparagus through a hole in the door.  Pictured here is them coming in to scrape me off of the ceiling.

The reason I suck at the piano, even after 12 years of lessons… Madre told us this keyboard was standard size!

I’m not pissed she got the gumball machine and I didn’t… I’m pissed they let me walk out of the store with those glasses!  Also, there’s a crink in my neck from the glass weight.

Teenagery hormoney fun family trip time!

Lindsay:  As if I’m going to be seen with these nerds.
Whitney:  Durrrrr… I smell bacon.
Grams:  I hope they have feeeesh! 

Oh dear… this is more unflattering and embarrassing of me than anyone else.  Right here I’m probably wondering how I’m going to walk to my car without fainting.

Happy Birthday, Lindsay!!  I hope your day is filled with all good things… and also you owe me a candy bar… from back in your devil days!  Love you!

Grand Theft Bulk Food…

At the grocery store on Saturday I saw the most fascinating thing.  A family… mom, dad, and six children under the age of about 8 behaving like angels in the grocery store.  Their dad had them lined up youngest to oldest… mom was in front of the cart, dad pushed the cart with the 1-year-old in it, and then the 5 remaining children followed behind him in a straight, orderly line.  No one was crying… no one was running around the store like an ADHD patient on Skittles… they were all just patiently following their parents in this perfect line.  No one asked for candy or sugar cereal or ice cream.  It kind of baffled me.  When my sister and I were little tikes we were holy terrors in the grocery store.  We always wanted everything we saw and if we didn’t get it we’d pull out our best Oscar-winning tantrums in the middle of aisle 8.

There were several times where Lindsay stole candy from the bulk food section, told me mom had paid for it, and I ate it standing in the middle of the store.  I didn’t get candy… hardly ever… so if someone was freely offering me candy… I was going to eat it before they could take it away again.  I knew mom hadn’t bought it.  We hadn’t even gone through the checkout yet… but I ignored that part of the thought process because I was getting CANDY!!!!!!!!

Most kids dream about what they want to be when they grow up.  My dreams consisted of what food I was going to eat when I had my own money and a driver’s license.  Having the food hidden from me as a child, yet available to the rest of the non-dieting family made me want it even more.  At the same grocery store on Saturday there were 3 self-serve honey machines in the bulk food department with a BIG ole sign reading:  Do not lift the lid… bees will escape.  PLEASE!!!  I was so tempted to lift that dagblasted lid.  I wanted to see it even more now than I had when I just thought it was a box with honey in it.  When someone tells you not to do something, you want to do it even more than if you had been given permission to do it.  That’s why I’ve adopted my eating method of NOTHING being off limits.  I can’t say, Whitney, you will never eat cookies again.  That just insures that I’ll have a plethora of weird dreams starring cookies… talking cookies… cookies on the Jerry Springer Show… cookies with attitude.  It somehow works much better for me if I allow all foods… that way I can better make the choice in my mind of whether I can take it or leave it at any particular time.  You’ll all be happy to know that Lindsay has left her past of Grand Theft Bulk Food behind… or so I think she has.

We went to WinCo for the first time on Saturday.  I fell in LUST with the bulk food section.  They had every dagnabbed thing you could ever imagine up in there.  I might ask if they rent rooms in the storage warehouse just so I can be within walking distance of the bulk food section!  Oh lawsy glorious!  This is the only place where you can bag your own cat food and then turn around and bag your own flax seed.  Crossing my fingers I don’t get them mixed up come breakfast!

Question of the Day:  Do you ever purchase anything in the bulk foods section?