It’s A Good Thing My Mom Doesn’t Know What A Computer Is

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You may or may not have noticed that I write about my dad on here quite a bit. Everything from his complete and inexcusable ridiculousness to how he’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met. But, here’s the thing: my mom is just as cool.

Isn’t that just a disgusting problem to have?

In the middle of trying to scan these pictures, my printer ran out of ink and I had to go buy more just so my scanner would shut up and do it’s job. Can I just get a moment of appreciation for the great lengths I take to make this blog an aesthetically pleasing experience for you?

What’s that? You could care less?  Ugh.

So, my mother. Some might say she is protective. I might say she’s nuts. But after losing her 18 yr-old brother to a fluke motorcycle accident and almost losing both her children in nearly fatal car accidents, I cut her some slack.

In her early thirties, my mom finally escaped what turned out to be an abusive, adulterous marriage with her high school sweetheart and she married my dad. From then on, she gave up any personal aspirations in order to dedicate herself to my brother and I. She homeschooled me until 1st grade because she didn’t want me to leave. When I was young, she would play with my hair while telling me stories she made up about a magical fox. She always dreamt of writing children’s books.

She was the type of mom that had cupcakes waiting after school. She never had a ‘don’t spoil your dinner’ rule because life is just too short. She told me every day how beautiful I was even when my face was one giant zit and I accidentally came home with orangey-blonde-skunk-stripe highlights in my hair (I cried myself to sleep for a week). She taught me how to respect myself and how confidence is the key to just about everything. In my teen years, she made me call her the minute I got in my car so that she could pinpoint where I was in case my car broke down and I got kidnapped by a rapist. She never slept until I walked in the door – even if it was 4am – then we’d watch The Bachelor, or Entertainment Tonight. She’s not into jewlery, or vacations, or nice clothes – and she is undoubtedly the hardest person to buy for.

Now that her kids have left, my mom spends the majority of her time directing a tutoring/mentoring club for at-risk and underprivileged children. She always said that if she could have gone to college she’d be a teacher. And I guess, now, she sort of is.

But, even though I’m almost 30, she still calls me every night. She still makes me giant chocolate cupcakes and home made snack mix whenever she comes over. She still tells me how beautiful I am. When I was depressed, she sent me a card in the mail every day for three months – just to say she loved me.

And no matter how many times I have failed at all my different jobs and creative endeavors, no matter how many relationships I screwed up, she never – ever – has said that she is anything less than completely proud of me for who I am and what I’ve done, the mistakes I’ve made and how they’ve molded me. She’s always been right there, in the front row, picking up the pieces.

Her paranoia and pessimism have rubbed off on me a little. But so has her rock solid confidence, her compassion, her ability to laugh at nothing, and her baking skills.

So, tell me about your mom.

 

Wondering where I went? I have returned to blogging over at my whole foods blog Celery and the City, where we live so clean it’s like your insides took a bath.

Royal Wedding Disaster: Prince William’s Other Woman

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Listen. I’m not one to burst happiness bubbles.

I’m a firm believer that if left alone, they will always burst on their own. So I just worry about brushing my teeth and not getting heart disease and everything else will fall into place.

But.

There are times when people just need to know the truth.

That time is now.

And that people is the world. And Kate Middleton.

I’m not trying to destroy anyone’s impending marriage, I’m simply trying to get closure. For William. And our sordid past. Rest assured, the rugby shirts have been burned. The love letters handwritten on Royal letterhead are in the dumpster. Buckingham Palace has been removed from my speed dial. Facebook pictures updated.

So, when the TODAY Show asked viewers to send in a 2 minute video about why they deserve to be flown to London for the week of the Royal Wedding, I found it the perfect opportunity to reveal a secret that’s been plaguing me for years.

And no, I didn’t wash off the face mask just because it was the TODAY show. I worked it into the video.

It’s all about efficiency.

Unfortunately, it could only be two minutes long, so I had to cut out many of the details and factual evidence. But the truth still speaks.

Willy, I’m sorry.

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/rD8-ZJzQBqE" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

photo: princeharry.co.uk

altered by: eeer, not altered.

My Cardiac Health Risk Screening: A Video Reenactment

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So, remember when I talked about how I have 7 legitimate, self-diagnosed diseases? Well, one of those was heart disease. I was having chest pains, shortness of breath, tightness in my upper back and fatigue. I mean, you tell me? As any responsible citizen, I set up a cardiac health risk screening to see how many months I have left on this earth.

Yesterday was the Day in question. I have created a video reenactment of the interaction between the doctor and myself. I have also included the results at the end, so that you know if you need to craft your goodbye letters.

First, I’d like to give you a few instructions, if you decide to set up your own screening.

#1. Make sure it is the gloomiest, rainiest day in the history of days. This way, you can be even more depressed as you contemplate your imminent death. In fact, you might even purposefully drive off a cliff before you make it to the doctor’s office.

#2. Make sure that you buy a pack of pretzel M&Ms the day before and accidentally leave them in your car. This will test your self control as you drive a half hour to your appointment on an empty stomach, after fasting for 12 hours. Also be aware this might cause severe road rage.

#3. As you glance up at the heavens, vow to no longer buy pricey makeup and to give all your clothes to the needy in the event you find our you’re going to live.

Alright, and now what has brought us all here:

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/x7YqZ_cUwUk" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

Blunt Bites: The Lady At The Cafe In London

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[ Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed laugh-out-loud (right?) posts. They are like snapshots of a significant part of my life. Sometimes, they’re serious. Sometimes, they’re funny. But they’re always gonna be delicious. Yum. ]

I was living in London at the time. One night, some friends and I decided to eat dinner at an Italian cafe; and if there’s anything more disappointing than London food, it’s London food trying to be Italian. As we drank our wine, I jotted down some thoughts in my journal while listening to the rain hit the windows.

I noticed you walk in and take a seat at the table by the window, where you had a perfect view of the beautifully wet cobblestone streets. I would have done the same thing. Those streets are still my favorite part of London. Your glasses were huge, and at first glance I thought you might be a man. You weren’t. Just an elderly lady wearing a beautiful dress and oblivious to the world around you. When a bottle of expensive champagne arrived, I was certain that you were waiting for someone. Anniversary, perhaps? Milestone birthday? As you finished your dinner, I couldn’t help but wonder.

But no one ever joined you that night. And it became increasingly evident by your level of confidence, that was what you expected.

Part of me felt sad for you.

The other part, jealous.

Your Daily Dose Of Embarrassment And A Free Photo

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[I apologize for all who tried to comment on the guest blog by Jen on Monday. Apparently, there were some issues with Explorer not allowing comments. Thank you for your emails and all the great advice! I really appreciate you guys. But more importantly, why are you still using Explorer?]

Yesterday, the moon was in the second house. The sun was shining. It was quasi-warm in the Midwest for the first time since Christmas. The alignment of all these rare events led to a brilliant idea on my part. And by brilliant, I mean an idea that led to devastating embarrassment.

I decided, for the first time in five years, to clean out my beautiful baby Saturn. I have oft neglected such duties on account that my baby is 12 years old, has a hole in the hood, leaks on me every time it rains and is probably about to breathe it’s last breath. And I figure that would just be quality time wasted on cleaning, when I could be Twittering or Facespacing, or thinking of more reasons to hate Neil Diamond.

Let me first set the scene for you. I had just gotten out of the shower and I let my hair air dry. Let me just tell you that you’ve never seen anything like an air-dried pile of half-curly, unruly Italian hair. That being said, I also had applied some white zit cream to my chin and left cheek due to an overly stressful week. I put on my “house glasses” and all of you who wear glasses know what I mean by that. You have the normal pair, which can be seen in public. Then, you have the “house” pair, which used to be a normal pair until someone sat on them or the prescription became outdated and now they are solely used for laying in bed and watching TV. Also, since it was warm, I was wearing my daisy duke plaid PJ shorts and a wife beater. And Ugg boots.

I went in the garage and started cleaning. The world was at peace and that’s where this story should end.

But it doesn’t, cus I’m full of bright ideas, remember?

I thought to myself, “It’s sunny out and everyone is at work. I’m just gonna back out of the garage for a bit so I can see things better, but I’ll still be inside the car so no one will see me.”

Well, I suppose that would have generally been the case. But NOT YESTERDAY. Around the corner, I see a man walking by out of the corner of my eye. I had the driver side door open, with one leg out, like some sort of car straddling white trash person.

I ignored him at first, because, I’m sort of the hermit of the neighborhood and no one talks to me.

Except, of course, new neighbors who move next door and want to introduce themselves.

Are you starting to connect the dots?

He walks straight over. Probably about thirty. Gorgeous, wearing a suit. As he approached, I instantly panicked. There is NO WAY I can escape this. He shouts, “I’m new here, trying to get around and meet all the neighbors.” I stared down at the floormats and kept cleaning. I said, “Oh, nice to meet you.”

For goodness sakes, isn’t that enough recognition for any ordinary person? This is America, after all.

Then, only because it’s my life, he kept walking closer. He stands right next to me and I quickly adjusted the shorts, considering the very compromising position I was in. At that moment, I was so preoccupied with not flashing him that I did not recollect the zit cream on my face until he blatantly glared at my chin. As he stuck out his hand, he said, “I’m Todd. I work for the local news. Nice to meet you.”

Oh, the news. Of coursssssssse you do.

I get a lot of emails asking if people can purchase photos from my blog. So….I introduce to you: Free Photo Fridays.

[Free Photo Fridays are a little break from my regular blog posts. I love photography. And I love sharing it with other people. So, on Fridays, I post a high resolution download of one of my favorite pictures for you to use. Hang it on your wall. Use it for your desktop. Frame it and give it to your mom. Do whatever you want. Also, if you have a picture you’d like to add, send it to me at info@bluntdelivery.com and I’ll feature it with a link back to your site. Share the love people.]

Since it is finally getting warm out, I will start with this picture of melting Midwestern ice. Click here to download. [3216 x 2136 px]



Blunt Getting Married: Sage Advice From Jennifer Not Aniston

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{Listen up Blunt Deliverites. History is being made this very, very instant as I’m about to reveal my very first guest blogger. Remember how I blindsided you awhile back with that minor little announcement about my engagement?  Well, there is someone who would like to dispense a lil advice for the Blunt bride-to-be. That someone, is Jen of When Pigs Fly. We have been bosom blogging buddies since time began. She’s far better at everything than I am, and if you don’t give her a big Blunt welcome then you can hold your breath come Christmas card season!}

Let’s see. I’ve been a fan of Brit’s and Blunt Delivery for about two years now. How time flies. It seems like only yesterday I was following her every post. A couple of years on and I feel like I know probably more than I should about her crazy life. The woman is downright funny and inspiring. She has helped me to learn about throwing caution to the wind with my writing and the fact that there’s something to be said for actually living the dream, not just paying lip service to it.

Before I get too sappy and start sounding more than a tad bit like a stalker, time to move on. Just needed to get the tribute out of the way before diving into the meat of this guest post. Yes, you heard right, a guest post. As soon as Brit dropped the bomb on all of us that she was planning on getting married, I began formulating some advice for her in my head. As I can’t keep these types of things to myself, I pleaded/conned her into letting me share them in a post a la Blunt Delivery.

I’ve been married for nearly 17 years. SEVENTEEN YEARS, people. When I see it in print, screaming at me on the page like that, I feel well past my sell by date. In the words of my mother, may she rest in peace, “Getting old sucks.” Yes, it does. To combat the slow decline into an appalling state of suckage, I have remained in an on again off again state of denial. I am the same age as Jennifer Aniston, our birthdays only a day apart. 42 never looked as good as it does on the former Friends star. I like to think I’m not too off the mark. Considering my head still thinks I’m 28, I just use good old Jen as a body barometer. Let’s hope she continues to keep herself well preserved for quite sometime. Otherwise, I shall have to find a new coping strategy.

But, I digress. The real point of me taking up space here is to share my years of wisdom on the marriage front. There are several things to keep in mind when embarking on such a journey with another human being. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Most of them involve empty toilet paper rolls and dirty clothes.

1)     Choose your battles – My mother-in-law gave me this sage piece of advice years ago when I got into one of the few truly unhappy discussions with my husband about something we didn’t see eye to eye on. There are times to stand your ground and there are times to let it go. Most of the time, it’s better to just let it go. Your man refuses to remember to put a new toilet roll on the holder or pick up his dirty shirts off the floor, chances are this is not a battle you are going to win over time. Trust, me there will be a multitude of things you do that drive him crazy. Unless its routinely setting the house on fire or clipping your toenails in bed, let’s hope he too decides not to pick a fight.

2)     Compromise – This is a corollary to number one. Life is about compromise and whether you like it or not so is marriage. I’m just going to tell you now, unless your soon to be husband is secretly gay, he hates throw pillows. All men hate throw pillows. Do they have to live with throw pillows? If they’re married to a woman, they will. Personally, I’m not a fan of watching Major League Baseball or professional golf on television when I’d rather be soaking up reruns of Modern Family, but I go with it. It’s called compromise and it’s not always fun but it’s necessary.

3)     Listen (or at least do a really good job of pretending to listen) – I would like to say that my husband is the only one who does not listen but I would be lying. Multitasking is a fallacy even though we all know women are better at faking it than men. My husband taps away on his phone while simultaneously playing Angry Birds on his iPad all the while “listening” to me inform him that our friends will be picking us up for dinner at 6pm that night. When 5:45 rolls around and I bark at him to change his clothes, he wonders why I never told him what time he needed to be ready. This happens while I am writing at the computer and he reports about something I need to know. It’s annoying, not good for the relationship and it means finding yourself in your own personal episode of Three’s Company with a big misunderstanding and no hugs from two dippy roommates to make you feel better.

4)     Keep yourself happy – “You complete me.” This is one of the all time best lines in a movie but, contrary to popular belief, Jerry McGuire is not reality. No one can make you happy. Only you can do that.  As soon as you start relying on someone else to fulfill you, you’re in trouble. My husband is the best part of my life but no matter how wonderful he is, he can’t find my way for me. That’s my job.

5)     Like the song says, “Tell him that you love him.” – There’s nothing quite like hearing it even though he knows it. That goes for the women too.

There you go. That’s my top five, shot from the hip, list of advice for the soon to be Blunt Delivery bride. There’s nothing earth shattering about it. But, we must be doing something right since my husband and I are still married, very happy and carrying on conversations containing complete sentences with one another.

Like I said before, growing old sucks. Getting old with someone you love makes it all seem just this side of all right. Before you know it, you’ll be seventeen years down the road, deluding yourself into believing you’ve aged nearly as well as some Hollywood A-lister, and hopefully looking back on the happiest years of your life to date spent with your best friend.

Congratulations and all the best!

Jen (not Aniston)

Do you guys have any advice for me?

 

Let’s see. I’ve been a fan of Brit’s and Blunt Delivery for about two years now. How time flies. It seems like only yesterday I was following her every post. A couple of years on and I feel like I know probably more than I should about her crazy life. The woman is downright funny and inspiring. She has helped me to learn about throwing caution to the wind with my writing and the fact that there’s something to be said for actually living the dream, not just paying lip service to it.

 

Before I get too sappy and start sounding more than a tad bit like a stalker, time to move on. Just needed to get the tribute out of the way before diving into the meat of this guest post. Yes, you heard right, a guest post. As soon as Brit dropped the bomb on all of us that she was planning on getting married, I began formulating some advice for her in my head. As I can’t keep these types of things to myself, I pleaded/conned her into letting me share them in a post a la Blunt Delivery.

 

I’ve been married for nearly 17 years. SEVENTEEN YEARS, people. When I see it in print, screaming at me on the page like that, I feel well past my sell by date. In the words of my mother, may she rest in peace, “Getting old sucks.” Yes, it does. To combat the slow decline into an appalling state of suckage, I have remained in an on again off again state of denial. I am the same age as Jennifer Aniston, our birthdays only a day apart. 42 never looked as good as it does on the former Friends star. I like to think I’m not too off the mark. Considering my head still thinks I’m 28, I just use good old Jen as a body barometer. Let’s hope she continues to keep herself well preserved for quite sometime. Otherwise, I shall have to find a new coping strategy.

 

But, I digress. The real point of me taking up space here is to share my years of wisdom on the marriage front. There are several things to keep in mind when embarking on such a journey with another human being. I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Most of them involve empty toilet paper rolls and dirty clothes.

 

1) Choose your battles – My mother-in-law gave me this sage piece of advice years ago when I got into one of the few truly unhappy discussions with my husband about something we didn’t see eye to eye on. There are times to stand your ground and there are times to let it go. Most of the time, it’s better to just let it go. Your man refuses to remember to put a new toilet roll on the holder or pick up his dirty shirts off the floor, chances are this is not a battle you are going to win over time. Trust, me there will be a multitude of things you do that drive him crazy. Unless its routinely setting the house on fire or clipping your toenails in bed, let’s hope he too decides not to pick a fight.

 

2) Compromise – This is a corollary to number one. Life is about compromise and whether you like it or not so is marriage. I’m just going to tell you now, unless your soon to be husband is secretly gay, he hates throw pillows. All men hate throw pillows. Do they have to live with throw pillows? If they’re married to a woman, they will. Personally, I’m not a fan of watching Major League Baseball or professional golf on television when I’d rather be soaking up reruns of Modern Family, but I go with it. It’s called compromise and it’s not always fun but it’s necessary.

 

3) Listen (or at least do a really good job of pretending to listen) – I would like to say that my husband is the only one who does not listen but I would be lying. Multitasking is a fallacy even though we all know women are better at faking it than men. My husband taps away on his phone while simultaneously playing Angry Birds on his iPad all the while “listening” to me inform him that our friends will be picking us up for dinner at 6pm that night. When 5:45 rolls around and I bark at him to change his clothes, he wonders why I never told him what time he needed to be ready. This happens while I am writing at the computer and he reports about something I need to know. It’s annoying, not good for the relationship and it means finding yourself in your own personal episode of Three’s Company with a big misunderstanding and no hugs from two dippy roommates to make you feel better.

 

4) Keep yourself happy – “You complete me.” This is one of the all time best lines in a movie but, contrary to popular belief, Jerry McGuire is not reality. No one can make you happy. Only you can do that. As soon as you start relying on someone else to fulfill you, you’re in trouble. My husband is the best part of my life but no matter how wonderful he is, he can’t find my way for me. That’s my job.

 

5) Like the song says, “Tell him that you love him.” – There’s nothing quite like hearing it even though he knows it. That goes for the women too.

 

There you go. That’s my top five, shot from the hip, list of advice for the soon to be Blunt Delivery bride. There’s nothing earth shattering about it. But, we must be doing something right since my husband and I are still married, very happy and carrying on conversations containing complete sentences with one another.

 

Like I said before, growing old sucks. Getting old with someone you love makes it all seem just this side of all right. Before you know it, you’ll be seventeen years down the road, deluding yourself into believing you’ve aged nearly as well as some Hollywood A-lister, and hopefully looking back on the happiest years of your life to date spent with your best friend.

 

Congratulations and all the best!

 

Jen (not Aniston)

I’m Not Paranoid. I Have 7 Legitimate Diseases.

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I was really perplexed the other day. While browsing through Twitterland, I noticed a trending topic of #RIPJackieChan. I mean, I’m not a huge fan of Jackie Chan, but when someone dies I gotta know why. Cus maybe he had the same symptoms I’m having and maybe I’m about to die too. So I clicked on the category to see what happened.

Well, he didn’t die. It was all a ploy by his fans to get attention.

Now. I’m pretty sure it’s obvious why I was so upset: nobody’s fake tweeting about my death.

What up with that? All of the sudden I’m not even as cool as Jackie Chan? Since when? You know I can’t help the fact that I’m not Chinese, right? And I’m still perfecting my roundhouse kick – it takes TIME people! As I sat there, saddened, I decided to play with my new camera phone, while remaining very sad.

In the depths of my despair, I sent out a tweet saying that if people truly loved me, they would fake tweet about my death. It might have been the Tweet equivalent of fishing for a compliment, but whatever.  Sure enough, they tweeted. Thus, my confidence was restored and I wasn’t forced to close my Twitter account.

Anyway, all of this death talk reminds me that I have 7 legitimate, self-diagnosed diseases. And I say legitimate, cus I don’t think I can consider Diverticulitis and Restless Leg Syndrome to be diseases. Or can I?

My fiance thinks that I’m 90% hypochondriac and 10% lunatic. If you ask him, he will give you two specific instances as to why he thinks this.

Reason #1: I call him at work, from MY work, on the verge of tears. I tell him that I am certain that I’m having pre-heart attack symptoms. He then asked me if I’d been spending a lot of time on WebMD lately. I decided that question wasn’t pertinent to the case and pleaded the fifth. Gee, I don’t know: sharp pains in my chest, left arm and upper back, waking up in the middle of the night with shortness of breath, extreme fatigue… you tell me. I never exercise. Heart problems run in the family… sounds like a statistic in the making, right?

The next morning, when I was lucky enough to wake up, I ate carrots for breakfast and pleaded to the heavens that I would start doing my Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred if I could just bide a little more time. Then I did what any responsible person would do and started myself on an Aspirin regiment.

Reason #2: This next one, I admit, was an all-time low. I was mulling over the probable heart attack I was about to have and the possible Type 2 Diabetes scare, when the fiance had slowly passed out on the couch while listening to all my ailments. Suddenly, I shook him awake and said, “I just need you to take a pic for me real quick.” Knowing that he was seriously going to send me packing on the crazy train if I told him why, I said, “Don’t ask questions. I just need to see something.” I turned around and lifted up the back of my shirt while handing him the camera. He goes, “What am I taking a pic of?” I said, “The mole on my back,” as I leaned in toward the lamp so he could get a clear shot. “You’ve got to be KIDDING me.” I don’t know what had overcome me, but in that moment, all I could see in my head were flashbacks to Grey’s Anatomy when Izzy found the tiny mole on her back and it turned out to be metastatic melanoma.

So sue me.

UPDATE: My Cardiac Health Risk Screening [A Video Reenactment]

 

Blunt Bites: An Old Italian Guy Named Joe

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[ DISCLAIMER: Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed laugh-out-loud (right?) posts. They are like snapshots of a significant part of my life. Sometimes, they’re serious. Sometimes, they’re funny. But they’re always gonna be delicious. Yum. ]

I met Joe while working at a retirement home and almost instantly, we connected. During my first week of work, he pointed out my dark hair and ever since then we’ve fought over whose Italian grandma made a better spaghetti sauce. Now, every time I see him he gives me a hug and says he loves me.

At night, sometimes he sits down and shows me the scrapbook his daughter made for his 90th birthday. It’s filled with pictures of the Navy, his three daughters and his late wife along with letters from all the friends, family and neighbors that he has meant so much to over the years. After reading those letters, you can tell just what kind of a life Joe lived.

After he turned 90, Joe told me that he finally realized he wasn’t going to live forever.  He said he wanted to start “doing things,” and he didn’t understand why none of these old guys “ever want to spend their money.” I told him that I didn’t understand it either, since money doesn’t mean anything anyway. We went through the activity book and I signed him up for every single thing.

I asked Joe if he had any advice, based on his experiences. He said, “Find a pretty girl like yourself and realize how lucky you are.” I laughed and responded, “Joe. That doesn’t really help me out very much,” and he said, “Oh, I think it helps you out more than you realize.”

Then he followed it up with, “Yea, I’m a flirt. So what? Keeps me young.”

When I asked if I could take his picture so that I could always remember him, Joe said he was honored that I thought he was worth remembering.

More photos: Indigo Photography

Lessons In Awkwardness: Featuring My Dad

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So I may have mentioned my dad a time or two on this site. In case you aren’t familiar, here is a brief summary:

Here’s the thing with my parents.

My mom can’t turn a computer on and is still holding to her guns that The Internets will become the downfall of society. My dad can turn it on, but his technological knowledge consists mainly of creating spreadsheets. Oh, and there was that one time he typed up something for my mom in Microsoft Word and it took about 5 hours – that also included the addition of a clip art photo, don’t worry.

This might shed some light as to why my parents don’t read this blog. I am quite certain, however, that they know it exists. My evidence for this conclusion is that a random family friend mentioned over dinner how they thought it was hilarious when my dad accidentally brushed his teeth with Preparation H while on a road trip with his Pastor.

Incidentally, I was the only one my dad told.

Now, of course, every time I whip out a composition notebook, my parents give me the stink eye. But, two minutes later, they start laughing and say something like, “Oh, I suppose this is gonna be on a blob now, huh?” And then I write down the fact that they called it a “blob” and turn that into a blog too. They can’t win.

But that’s the beauty of my parents. They don’t take themselves too seriously.

So, I’ve got a special treat for you kids today.

[My dad is the Director for a local non profit that focuses on mentoring and tutoring at-risk elementary students. I’m doing a video for them and needed a 30 sec. spot from my dad. This was our THIRD attempt. SIX HOURS +  203 VIDEOS = 10 SECONDS OF USABLE FOOTAGE. ]

I gave him 4 simple rules to adhere to:

1. Remember the words.

2.  No awkward hand gestures.

3. Don’t say the words “touch” or “tie” when referring to children.

4. Don’t use imaginary words.

Am I asking TOO MUCH??

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/Ocxxx7zi6Ho" width="425" height="344" allowfullscreen="true" fvars="fs=1" /]

As he was leaving the parking lot that day, he yelled out, “Why do I have the feeling that you’re going to be making more than just the charity video?”

Blunt Bites: The Girl Who Taught Me More Than High School

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[ DISCLAIMER: Blunt Bites break away from my normal, detailed laugh-out-loud (right?) posts. They are like snapshots of a significant part of my life. Sometimes, they’re serious. Sometimes, they’re funny. But they’re always gonna be delicious. Yum. ]

It was my very first day of work, and you offered me some of your lunch even though you barely had enough to eat. Although it was a struggle to understand you through your thick accent, your laugh was desperately contagious. Your husband also worked at the same company. You would get so excited every time he walked by. I later discovered that you moved your family here from Poland to make a better life. You taught yourself English, graduated with honors, and moved to a tiny house down the street with your three kids and five relatives.

You always carried hot pink lipstick from the Dollar Store in your apron, and the only thing cheesier than your constant smile was the Harlequin romance novels you read every day on your break.

Five years later, I recognized your voice instantly when you called into the bank. I confirmed your name, but didn’t reveal who I was. I could sense that you had been crying. Your account was overdrawn because you had been trying to support your three kids on minimum wage ever since your husband and sisters had left for the grocery store and never returned. Two years had passed since then. You mentioned that you had just celebrated your 40th birthday by making a cake out of flour and water, then you started laughing just like you always did. As I was fighting back tears, I don’t know what alarmed me more: the tragedy of your circumstances or your positive attitude toward them. You responded, “As long as I still have a choice, I’d rather laugh than cry.”

Her name was Renee. I wish there were more of her in this world. She epitomized love. And she taught me more than high school.