Friday Funny

I've been trying to downsize stuff in basement boxes, and my current box contained this gem, written by my daughter (me typing as she dictated) when she was in middle school. Names have been changed to protect the Hardly Innocent. I can't stop giggling!!!

Last night when Raz went to bed, she didn't see the gremlin who snuck in her room with her. After she went to sleep, he got into her glitter, her fingernail polish and her hairspray.

This morning when she got up, all her stuff was gone. But her walls were sparkly and her shoes all smelled like perfume! Raz thought her brother Taz had played with her stuff. She marched right down to his room and screamed at him.

"Taz! You give me back my fingernail polish before I make you wear it to school!" she yelled.

Taz threw a pillow at her and went back to sleep.

Raz asked her mom what happened to her glitter. Her mom had pink and green eyes, blue lips and purple sparkly hair!

"Mom! Did you take my glitter?" Raz asked. Her mom was really angry.

"No more glitter for you, young lady!" her mom said.

Raz began looking around the house for her glitter. She found glitter footprints and began following them. The footprints went to Jazz's house.

Raz knocked on Jazz's door. Jazz opened the door. She had red hair and orange eyes!

"Raz, did you do this to me while I was sleeping?" Jazz asked.

"No," Raz answered. "But I'm trying to find my stolen glitter."

Jazz decided to help Raz follow the glitter footprints. They went down the street to the bus stop. Someone had written "Backstreet Boys! Drool!" all over the bus stop in hot pink glitter. When the 40X came, Raz noticed the bus had red and green glitter all over it.

The bus driver let Raz and Jazz ride the bus for free to solve the mystery. They went downtown and saw sparkles everywhere. There were orange and blue sparkles on Mile High Stadium and red and blue sparkles on the Pepsi Center. Even Republic Plaza had sparkles on top of it!

Raz and Jazz followed the glitter footprints down Cherry Creek to the mall. Inside the mall, they searched the WB store. Sure enough, there was the gremlin, hiding in a Mickey Mouse costume and covered with glitter!

Raz picked him up by the neck and threatened to hang him on the Christmas tree upside down. He stuck his glittery tongue out at her. Then he told her he couldn't give anything back because he'd used it all up.

Raz and Jazz dragged him to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory and dunked him in chocolate! The gremlin loved it. But Raz set him on the 16th Street Mall, and pretty soon, two homeless kids ate the chocolate-covered gremlin.

Raz and Jazz went back to the mall to buy more glitter. Taz moved out and joined the military, where he hoped he would be assigned to bomb a glitter factory.

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A Mermaid's Tale

Once upon a time, upon a sea far, far away, a therapeutic foster mom adopted a seven-year-old carrot-top girl who had been through quite a few temporary placements, as well as a couple of permanent placements gone awry.

Mom believed consistency, stability and lots and lots of love would cure all ills, but through a lifetime of learning discovered luggage-bearing wards-of-state sometimes come with wounds that can't completely heal.

A child who has been through nine homes sees things in a different way than an adult who, even though raised in a blended family, cannot possibly comprehend the attachment issues adoption agencies spend decades trying to navigate and decipher.


Mom struggled with trying to teach the child ownership, but never, ever stopped trying. How does one teach possession when the student spent seven years never able to hold onto anything long term... from a pair of jeans to a stuffed animal to a bed in the same home for longer than a couple of months?

The little girl grew up, ran away, and returned to the lifestyle of the parents who gave birth to her, the former life she knew, the life with far less to lose. A life with no roots, a life with no connections or commitments, a life with no stability and very little love or compassion. Thousands of tears were shed by the adoptive mom.


Many years later, the now grown little girl had a little girl of her own. The adoptive mom made a quilt for her newborn granddaughter, crafted from fabric the adopted daughter had picked, used and loved as a child.


A year later, grandmother and granddaughter met for the first time, and grandmother crafted a mermaid tail for the baby.


Another year later, the adoptive mom made Christmas quilts for more grandchildren. The adopted daughter was angry because her child wasn't a recipient (even though she and the baby also received handmade Christmas gifts).


"Don't you remember?" the adoptive mom consoled, "I made a quilt for your daughter when she was born. It was made from very special fabric I've saved all these years from your childhood."


The adoptive mom was devastated to hear the quilt was long gone. She didn't know how to contain the sense of loss... as if losing her adopted child all over again. Hundreds of tears were shed.

One day the adoptive mom realized... remembered... the adopted daughter doesn't place the same value on things as typical adults. In her mind, the adopted daughter didn't lose something precious. The lost quilt was just another segment of her life that evaporated while she wasn't looking, an experience she had grown accustomed to throughout her early years. Many tears were shed in the beginning, but as years wore on and memories faded, self-protection constructed a wall around painful losses. Life goes on.


The adoptive mom decided to make another quilt for the granddaughter's birthday, this time with instructions, both written and verbal, for the adopted daughter to cherish and protect the quilt (which would have no emotional or generational significance other than being handmade, just in case).


She opted to use the same heart free-motion quilting she'd used on the first quilt. Because the new grandma loves that little girl with all her heart.


The adoptive mom stuffed matching dolphin and mermaid pillows with quilt clippings collected during the previous two years. She learned never to stuff a pillow with leftovers while wearing a flannel dress. She wanted to make a matching dress, too, as well as a new mermaid tail, but there wasn't enough time. The birthday package had to be mailed.


"Your daughter is too young to understand the importance of holding onto cherished things. It's your job to protect heirlooms, probably until your daughter is grown and on her own. Just like I held onto that fabric from your first sewing lessons. What if I had lost that and couldn't make a special quilt for your daughter?"


"I'm sorry, Mom," the adopted daughter said after a long pause. She got it. She understood. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

The adopted mom knew at that moment her granddaughter wouldn't care that her new quilt wasn't made from fabric connected to her mother. She would enjoy whatever her grandmother gave her, and when she is old enough to understand, she will treasure the story of the special quilt that swam away. Perhaps it will give the new quilt more meaning because it symbolizes the sea of treasures we often cannot fathom.








Linking up with Busy Hands Quilts, Crazy Mom Quilts and Confessions of a Fabric Addict.

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Friday Funny

Two little love birds, sitting on a fence
K. I. S. S..., you know the rest of the sentence


Kissy, Kissy


A Day's Work Done


Settled in at Home


Hungry Babies


Where's My Dinner???




Running Out of Space


Mealtime


I'm Still Hungry!


Does Your Stomach Have a Bottom???


Turn it Down a Few Decibels, Would Ya?!?

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Just Ducky

We were checking out next week's Leadville 100 route, scouting places to shoot great photos and still be able to train for our Pikes Peak ride later this month, when we came across a duck family crossing the road.

At first, I just wanted to snap a photo because Mama Duck was attempting to lead her babies along railroad tracks after crossing the rural highway, and the scene was cute. I grabbed my camera as Mama searched for a place her babies could get up and over the rails. However, I didn't get a shot of Mama with her babies because she ended up not waiting for half of them.

We may have made Mama nervous, which was not our intent. I tried to stay low and invisible, as I do whenever I stalk wildlife. I was using a very long lens and wasn't close enough for a great shot. Nevertheless, Mama flew the coup, leaving unattended babies behind.

Watching the babies run back and forth along the railroad, peeping wildly as they desperately searched for a way to reach Mama, made me want to cry.

I've read many accounts of humans assisting mama geese and ducks with difficult baby crossings. After a few minutes of frantic baby peeping, I decided human help was necessary and appropriate in this case. I slowly moved in closer, staying low, trying my best to imitate their cries, talking in a soothing voice, open hand outstretched so babies could, if they wanted, if they trusted, climb aboard.

Two of the young 'uns finally crossed the first rail with improv wingless flying technique. They called to the still stranded sibling and stayed close for a while, but as Mama's quacking faded, they panicked and crossed the second rail. The lone duckling looked me straight in the eye, ran straight toward me, froze about three inches out of reach of my outstretched hand, stared at me with tilted head, then waddled full speed in the opposite direction.

I remembered a silly show from back in the '70s or '80s. "Not the mama! Not the mama!" I definitely was not the mama. Talk about feeling incompetent!

Baby ran all the way to the nearest road intersection, crossed the tracks on level road, then ran back toward where the siblings and Mama had disappeared. I could see from my 5'7" vantage point that the other two ducklings were swimming in a nearby pond, sans Mama and three more siblings who didn't have as much problem crossing the tracks. I decided to gently coax the lone baby toward the siblings who were quite a distance away and out of earshot.

I succeeded in reuniting the three lost babies but could not see Mama and the rest of her paddling. (Yes, that's really what you call a group of ducks. Brood or litter sounds so much better, doesn't it? A raft is a group of ducks on water, and a flock is a group of ducks in the air.) The Lizard convinced me Mama would return for the little ones if we left them alone. She had to be out on the water somewhere, protecting the rest of the raft. So we walked away, hoping for the best, fingers crossed, silent prayers uttered.

Thankfully, Mama duck and the other babies eventually returned, and the family swims together once again. As long as they stay in the pond and away from the train track and highway.

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Friday Funny

Before I became an empty nester, I was a foster parent and adoptive parent. When you take in older children, sometimes you have to teach a few odd basics that got missed somewhere along the way. Such as turning off the light when you leave the room, turning off the water when you’re done washing your hands or putting toothpaste on toothbrushes, not hair brushes.

Oh, and not sticking peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the VCR because they fit.

And sometimes, the kids you take in teach you lessons you never dreamed you'd need to learn.

We were eating dinner with company one night when my then almost-adopted 9-year-old son pointed out I had forgotten to pour him some milk.

I immediately poured half a glass. He reacted with shock.

"I can drink the whole thing!" he cried. "Milk is my life!"

Having previously learned – the hard way – not to pour whole glasses of fluid at mealtime, I told him he could have more after he finished.

"Welcome to the Snowflake household," he announced, sounding rather annoyed, to our amused guests. "We don't pour whole glasses around here, only halfs (sic). And you have to finish what you have before you get seconds!"

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