Small House of Everything
Thursday, April 21, 2011
DONE!
The Quilt of Valor, that is. Soon to be on it's way to a wounded soldier in Afghanistan. Kudos to all the ladies who worked on it.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
THE DEAD STEPFATHER STORY
So here's the dead stepfather story in all it's gory glory:
First, you have to picture Ann. Whip-smart, pragmatic, organized, able to do just about anything and to deal with just about everything. Her mother's second marriage (long after Ann had moved out and was on her own) was to a man who was only about ten years older than Ann. Then her mother got cancer and passed away a disgustingly early age. The widower, Bob, took his duty as a stepfather very seriously and viewed Ann as his daughter. (Bob, by the way, was a very nice guy.) Then Bob met Nancy and remarried. Nancy took her role as stepmother-once-removed very seriously also. Thus Ann kept in contact with both and visited for the occasional holiday and so on.
Okay. Neither Bob nor Nancy ever had the word "practical" in their vocabularies. They lived in the house Bob and Ann's mother had bought for an amazingly low price. They refinanced a number of times and the house is now worth only a small percentage of their mortgage. There were a lot of other things going on that were the antithesis of practical.
Then came the phone call in the middle of the night that Bob had died. We gave Ann a ride to the airport and she went to help Nancy with the arrangements. This was Ann's first e-mail:
$11,000 before the burial plot. This is completely insane. I'm just watching the madness.
Before Ann left for the funeral, we discussed the possibility that perhaps some of the relatives (both he and she come from very large families) might be able to help with the cost of the funeral. Here's Ann's second e-mail:
Sweet Jesus on a breadstick.
Funeral lunch for 75 with a full open bar.
No money in the cards either.
Nancy is her own worst financial enemy.
And we replied:
Holy Moses on a vanilla wafer.
Open bar?
Methinks there is a predisposition to imbibery on both sides of the family.
Will there be enough liquor in the entire state?
Nancy decided that she wanted to impress relatives on both sides of the family. Ann's next e-mail:
Well, since one person managed to drink a litre of Absolut in 48 hours in this household,
there is a wee possibility that there is some imbibing going on. And it wasn't the widow
(or me).
She paid $560 for a cleaning service on Monday. Bounced the cheque twice. What
happened to female relatives cleaning the house and stocking the fridge? Oh wait, she
doesn't want to "look bad". Maybe I should hit the vodka.
...Rechecking my IQ might be a good idea. I seem to have lost a lot of points somewhere
along the way.
The litre of Absolut went into a non--relative, who also happened to be an absolute (Absolut?) racist. Nice.
Ann put in $5000 toward the cost of the funeral. Bob had wanted to be buried with Ann's mother's ashes in his coffin. This provided another set of problems because the funeral home had been under charges for mismanagement and they couldn't guarantee that Ann's mother's ashes were actually Ann's mother's ashes, so legally they couldn't put the ashes in the coffin, especially if it turned that Bob would be sharing his coffin with a complete stranger. (Understand?) Ann's solution was simple: bury Bob and sprinkle the ashes on his grave. That, at least, for some reason, would be legal. Luckily, before the funeral the funeral home discovered papers proving that Ann's mother was Ann's mother, so into the casket she went. The cost? One hundred dollars for Ann's mother and a thousand for Bob. Don't know why. But Nancy told Ann that it would cost her (Ann) $1100 to bury her mother's ashes with Bob. (Enter Ann's thought balloon: **Hmmm. No. It will cost me $100. It will cost you $1000. Should I make a stink? No, it's worth an extra thousand to get her off my back.** End thought balloon.) Ann wrote a check for $1100.
So much more happened. A niece of a cousin-in-law was upset she wasn't named as a survivor in the obituary, so she called Nancy to complain, rather than the funeral home. Every member of both sides of the family had the middle name of Drama. Some of the drama is mentioned in a note Ann sent to a friend:
We had the youngest son of the family as the funeral director and let's just say I was not
impressed. Funeral home guys are usually so suave and unflappable. This twit? Not so
much. Okay, so there's a paperwork issue with Mom's ashes because I didn't have all
the certificates. So I pay buddy boy to track them down. Well, the funeral home Mom
used had a scandal and lost its license for improper disposal of bodies. He can't find the
paperwork and tells me all this and that Mom can't go in the casket and that she may not
have been cremated. GRAND. So I say fine, give me the ashes back and I'll deal with
everything myself. Two hours later, the shmuck calls me back - he opened the
decorative box and copies of the certs were taped inside. He double checked the
certificate numbers with the crematory and everything was fine and Mom was cremated
properly with all the state requirements. Can you believe it? I don't get that upset
because I'm not the one who cares about these things. Put me in a hole in the ground
wrapped in a sheet and plant a tree. The body is just a shell and not the person, let it go
back into the cycle of life. But imagine telling a regular person that Mom might be in a
backyard somewhere.
(Let me interject here that the young funeral director wore a cheap, dirty suit that made him look like a stereotypical used car salesman. Back to Ann:)
Other highlights of the week: Funeral lunch for 75 with an OPEN bar. Not wanting Bob's
siblings in the first or second pew, that was for her family and friends. Alcohol
everywhere. $560 for a cleaning service to do the house - and she bounced the cheque
twice, so it's going to be more. An unshowered relative with 3 teeth. Spending $150 for
a sports coat for a 12 year old. Nancy's sister-in-law pushing me out of the way so that
she could sob and carry on. A fight over whose flowers went on the casket - seriously!
The 11 year old eating all the tops of the muffins and putting them back in the box -
and NOT getting smacked to within an inch of her life.
(Me again. Really? Eleven is way too old for that sort of nonsense. Back to Ann:)
A litre of Absolut being drunk by ONE person in 48 hours.
Oh, and the hearse was baby blue.
Ann was a brick and a doll and a fantastic help when Michael passed away five years ago. I'm sorry she wasn't allowed to do the same for her stepfather. She deserves better. At least she has a lot of stories to tell now.
First, you have to picture Ann. Whip-smart, pragmatic, organized, able to do just about anything and to deal with just about everything. Her mother's second marriage (long after Ann had moved out and was on her own) was to a man who was only about ten years older than Ann. Then her mother got cancer and passed away a disgustingly early age. The widower, Bob, took his duty as a stepfather very seriously and viewed Ann as his daughter. (Bob, by the way, was a very nice guy.) Then Bob met Nancy and remarried. Nancy took her role as stepmother-once-removed very seriously also. Thus Ann kept in contact with both and visited for the occasional holiday and so on.
Okay. Neither Bob nor Nancy ever had the word "practical" in their vocabularies. They lived in the house Bob and Ann's mother had bought for an amazingly low price. They refinanced a number of times and the house is now worth only a small percentage of their mortgage. There were a lot of other things going on that were the antithesis of practical.
Then came the phone call in the middle of the night that Bob had died. We gave Ann a ride to the airport and she went to help Nancy with the arrangements. This was Ann's first e-mail:
$11,000 before the burial plot. This is completely insane. I'm just watching the madness.
Before Ann left for the funeral, we discussed the possibility that perhaps some of the relatives (both he and she come from very large families) might be able to help with the cost of the funeral. Here's Ann's second e-mail:
Sweet Jesus on a breadstick.
Funeral lunch for 75 with a full open bar.
No money in the cards either.
Nancy is her own worst financial enemy.
And we replied:
Holy Moses on a vanilla wafer.
Open bar?
Methinks there is a predisposition to imbibery on both sides of the family.
Will there be enough liquor in the entire state?
Nancy decided that she wanted to impress relatives on both sides of the family. Ann's next e-mail:
Well, since one person managed to drink a litre of Absolut in 48 hours in this household,
there is a wee possibility that there is some imbibing going on. And it wasn't the widow
(or me).
She paid $560 for a cleaning service on Monday. Bounced the cheque twice. What
happened to female relatives cleaning the house and stocking the fridge? Oh wait, she
doesn't want to "look bad". Maybe I should hit the vodka.
...Rechecking my IQ might be a good idea. I seem to have lost a lot of points somewhere
along the way.
The litre of Absolut went into a non--relative, who also happened to be an absolute (Absolut?) racist. Nice.
Ann put in $5000 toward the cost of the funeral. Bob had wanted to be buried with Ann's mother's ashes in his coffin. This provided another set of problems because the funeral home had been under charges for mismanagement and they couldn't guarantee that Ann's mother's ashes were actually Ann's mother's ashes, so legally they couldn't put the ashes in the coffin, especially if it turned that Bob would be sharing his coffin with a complete stranger. (Understand?) Ann's solution was simple: bury Bob and sprinkle the ashes on his grave. That, at least, for some reason, would be legal. Luckily, before the funeral the funeral home discovered papers proving that Ann's mother was Ann's mother, so into the casket she went. The cost? One hundred dollars for Ann's mother and a thousand for Bob. Don't know why. But Nancy told Ann that it would cost her (Ann) $1100 to bury her mother's ashes with Bob. (Enter Ann's thought balloon: **Hmmm. No. It will cost me $100. It will cost you $1000. Should I make a stink? No, it's worth an extra thousand to get her off my back.** End thought balloon.) Ann wrote a check for $1100.
So much more happened. A niece of a cousin-in-law was upset she wasn't named as a survivor in the obituary, so she called Nancy to complain, rather than the funeral home. Every member of both sides of the family had the middle name of Drama. Some of the drama is mentioned in a note Ann sent to a friend:
We had the youngest son of the family as the funeral director and let's just say I was not
impressed. Funeral home guys are usually so suave and unflappable. This twit? Not so
much. Okay, so there's a paperwork issue with Mom's ashes because I didn't have all
the certificates. So I pay buddy boy to track them down. Well, the funeral home Mom
used had a scandal and lost its license for improper disposal of bodies. He can't find the
paperwork and tells me all this and that Mom can't go in the casket and that she may not
have been cremated. GRAND. So I say fine, give me the ashes back and I'll deal with
everything myself. Two hours later, the shmuck calls me back - he opened the
decorative box and copies of the certs were taped inside. He double checked the
certificate numbers with the crematory and everything was fine and Mom was cremated
properly with all the state requirements. Can you believe it? I don't get that upset
because I'm not the one who cares about these things. Put me in a hole in the ground
wrapped in a sheet and plant a tree. The body is just a shell and not the person, let it go
back into the cycle of life. But imagine telling a regular person that Mom might be in a
backyard somewhere.
(Let me interject here that the young funeral director wore a cheap, dirty suit that made him look like a stereotypical used car salesman. Back to Ann:)
Other highlights of the week: Funeral lunch for 75 with an OPEN bar. Not wanting Bob's
siblings in the first or second pew, that was for her family and friends. Alcohol
everywhere. $560 for a cleaning service to do the house - and she bounced the cheque
twice, so it's going to be more. An unshowered relative with 3 teeth. Spending $150 for
a sports coat for a 12 year old. Nancy's sister-in-law pushing me out of the way so that
she could sob and carry on. A fight over whose flowers went on the casket - seriously!
The 11 year old eating all the tops of the muffins and putting them back in the box -
and NOT getting smacked to within an inch of her life.
(Me again. Really? Eleven is way too old for that sort of nonsense. Back to Ann:)
A litre of Absolut being drunk by ONE person in 48 hours.
Oh, and the hearse was baby blue.
Ann was a brick and a doll and a fantastic help when Michael passed away five years ago. I'm sorry she wasn't allowed to do the same for her stepfather. She deserves better. At least she has a lot of stories to tell now.
ANOTHER ANNIVERSARY
Deepwater Horizon.
One year.
Eleven dead.
Economic devastation for an already hard-hit Gulf.
Damn.
When will we learn?
One year.
Eleven dead.
Economic devastation for an already hard-hit Gulf.
Damn.
When will we learn?
BITTERSWEET ANNIVERSARY
From a birthday celebration Monday to a different one today: my daughter's anniversary -- the fifteenth, I think. Unfortunately her husband isn't with her; he died of a sudden heart attack five years ago at aged 31. Michael was the love of her life and her loved her and their two girls more than anything. He was a good guy, and filled their lives with laughter. Then, suddenly, the laughter was gone.
It's been a long five years. At first Jessie and the girls stayed with us. We moved to Southern Maryland because Jessie couldn't face living in the town where Michael had died. She became active in the girls' school. Her Girl Scout leader training helped her segue into Sea Scouts when the girls joined. She discovered Amy was part fish and encouraged her when she joined a swim team. She took a number of terrible jobs, often with businesses that were on the verge of going belly-up. She was a cake decorator, a bookkeeper, a tax consultant. And every morning when she woke up, her first thought was of Michael.
After almost four years with us, she moved out and went back to her home town, got a low-paying job with a large hotel, watched the hotel go bankrupt, and is now back at the same hotel (under new management) and seems to be back on track and much better paid. The girls are beginning to get it together also. Both have made friends and are doing well in school. Amy swims at 0-Dark Hundred in the morning; Ceili has discovered she's fairly good at basketball and is into cosplay and steampunk. There's some light at the end of the tunnel.
Of course, when a spouse dies, there really is no end to the tunnel. But the light gets brighter and brighter. So today we remember Michael with love and respect, while also calling him a sonovabitch for dying. One of the best memories of him was a year before he died, when we took both daughters and their families on a Carribean cruise; our first look on deck, shortly before we sailed, was of Michael holding an umbella drink, laughing and smiling, in a conga line and dancing to a calypso band.
After his death, through organ donation, Michael gave people the gifts of sight, of mobility, and of life. He gave Jessie almost ten years of a loving marriage, and the two of them gave the world two beautiful and talented children. That's something some people don't accomplish through their three score and ten. So happy anniversary, Jessie. Hold on to the memories. And look toward the future. Life is for the living and it's an amazing thing. Enjoy it.
It's been a long five years. At first Jessie and the girls stayed with us. We moved to Southern Maryland because Jessie couldn't face living in the town where Michael had died. She became active in the girls' school. Her Girl Scout leader training helped her segue into Sea Scouts when the girls joined. She discovered Amy was part fish and encouraged her when she joined a swim team. She took a number of terrible jobs, often with businesses that were on the verge of going belly-up. She was a cake decorator, a bookkeeper, a tax consultant. And every morning when she woke up, her first thought was of Michael.
After almost four years with us, she moved out and went back to her home town, got a low-paying job with a large hotel, watched the hotel go bankrupt, and is now back at the same hotel (under new management) and seems to be back on track and much better paid. The girls are beginning to get it together also. Both have made friends and are doing well in school. Amy swims at 0-Dark Hundred in the morning; Ceili has discovered she's fairly good at basketball and is into cosplay and steampunk. There's some light at the end of the tunnel.
Of course, when a spouse dies, there really is no end to the tunnel. But the light gets brighter and brighter. So today we remember Michael with love and respect, while also calling him a sonovabitch for dying. One of the best memories of him was a year before he died, when we took both daughters and their families on a Carribean cruise; our first look on deck, shortly before we sailed, was of Michael holding an umbella drink, laughing and smiling, in a conga line and dancing to a calypso band.
After his death, through organ donation, Michael gave people the gifts of sight, of mobility, and of life. He gave Jessie almost ten years of a loving marriage, and the two of them gave the world two beautiful and talented children. That's something some people don't accomplish through their three score and ten. So happy anniversary, Jessie. Hold on to the memories. And look toward the future. Life is for the living and it's an amazing thing. Enjoy it.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
FORGOTTEN FILM: FORTY NAUGHTY GIRLS
Not really a forgotten movie because it's being shown today on Turner Movie Classics at 1:00 p.m. EDT, but if you are reading this after that time, maybe it is forgotten after all.
Forty Naughty Girls (1937) is a Hildegarde Withers mystery, based on the character created by Stuart Palmer. Withers was (and if there is any justice in this world, still is) a popular character in 1940's and 1950's mystery novels, a nosy spinster schoolteacher who was the bane of Police Inspector Oscar Piper's life.
Since I will not have seen the film until after 1:00 today, let's let IMDB explain the basic plot for us: "Police Inspector Oscar Piper and Hildegarde Withers attend the opening night of a Broadway play in New York City," [where else? - JH] "and the show's press agent is murdered before the curtain goes up. But the show must go on while Piper is busily investigating the killing while the play goes on, the play's librettist is shot. Piper and Withers are in and out of dressing rooms, in audience cubicles belonging to the producer and the press agent, and in the basement storeroom and far stage left and right working on finding the killer before the curtain draws." The movis clocks in at 63 minutes.
For what it's worth, according to Leonard Maltin, Forty Naughty Girls "...is just plain awful." For that accolade alone, it's a gotta see.
This time around Withers is played by Zasu Pitts while thin, mustached James Gregory plays Inspector Piper as usual. Marjorie Lord (The Danny Thomas Show) appears as Jane Preston. The rest of the cast includes George Shelley (Bert), Joan Woodbury (Rita Marlowe), Frank M. Thomas (Jeff "Pop" Plumber), Tom Kennedy (Casy), Alan Edwards (Ricky Rickman), Alden chase (Tommy Washburn), Edward Marr (Windy Bennett), Ada Leonard (Lil), Barbara Pepper (Alice), and Donald Kerr (Call Boy -- a role he may not want to have on his resume).
This beauty was directed by Edward Cline, who came up through the ranks from Mack Sennett comedies and directed a number of minor and sub-minor films. Screen writer John Grey adapted this one from Palmer's short story "The Riddle of the Forty Naughty Girls." According to IMDB, Grey had 32 credits from 1934-1952, half of which were short features. (One of his credits, Private Snuffy Smith, based on the Barney Google comic strip character, is worthy of a Forgotten Film entry of its own.) Grey capped out his career with three episodes of Sky King. (Apropos of nothing, Gloria Winters, who played Penny in that series, died last August at 78. How could one of my childhood crushes be that old?)
Eight movies were made about Hildegarde Withers. Edna May Oliver took the lead role in the first three: The Penguin Pool Murder (1932), Murder on the Blackboard (1934), and Murder on a Honeymoon (1935). Helen Broderick did the honors in Murder on a Bridle Path (1936), after which Zasu Pitts did two turns: The Plot Thickens (1936) and the film under discussion. In 1950, Hildegarde Withers was renamed (but not Craig Rice's John J. Malone) in Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone (1950, from a short story by Palmer and Rice). In 1972, Eve Arden starred in a television movie, A Very Missing Person.
Palmer also has a number of screenwriting credits, many of which are of passing interest: One Frightened Night, The Nitwits, Yellowstone, Hollywood Stadium Mystery, Bulldog Drummond's Peril, Arrest Bulldog Drummond, Bulldog Drummond's Bride, Death of a Champion, Emergency Squad, Seventeen, Opened by Mistake, Who Killed Aunt Maggie?, "The Smiling Ghost", Secrets of the Lone Wolf, Pardon My Stripes, Home in Wyomin', Halfway to Shanghai, The Falcon's Brother, X Marks the Spot, The Falcon Strikes Back, Murder in Times Square, Petticoat Larceny, Step by Step, and one episode of The Millionaire. All sound like good Saturday afternoon watching. Or, you could pick up an old Stuart Palmer mystery. That's entertainment.
**********
Stop by Todd Mason's blog Sweet Freedom today for a continuing updated and always fascinating list of today's Forgotten Films.
Forty Naughty Girls (1937) is a Hildegarde Withers mystery, based on the character created by Stuart Palmer. Withers was (and if there is any justice in this world, still is) a popular character in 1940's and 1950's mystery novels, a nosy spinster schoolteacher who was the bane of Police Inspector Oscar Piper's life.
Since I will not have seen the film until after 1:00 today, let's let IMDB explain the basic plot for us: "Police Inspector Oscar Piper and Hildegarde Withers attend the opening night of a Broadway play in New York City," [where else? - JH] "and the show's press agent is murdered before the curtain goes up. But the show must go on while Piper is busily investigating the killing while the play goes on, the play's librettist is shot. Piper and Withers are in and out of dressing rooms, in audience cubicles belonging to the producer and the press agent, and in the basement storeroom and far stage left and right working on finding the killer before the curtain draws." The movis clocks in at 63 minutes.
For what it's worth, according to Leonard Maltin, Forty Naughty Girls "...is just plain awful." For that accolade alone, it's a gotta see.
This time around Withers is played by Zasu Pitts while thin, mustached James Gregory plays Inspector Piper as usual. Marjorie Lord (The Danny Thomas Show) appears as Jane Preston. The rest of the cast includes George Shelley (Bert), Joan Woodbury (Rita Marlowe), Frank M. Thomas (Jeff "Pop" Plumber), Tom Kennedy (Casy), Alan Edwards (Ricky Rickman), Alden chase (Tommy Washburn), Edward Marr (Windy Bennett), Ada Leonard (Lil), Barbara Pepper (Alice), and Donald Kerr (Call Boy -- a role he may not want to have on his resume).
This beauty was directed by Edward Cline, who came up through the ranks from Mack Sennett comedies and directed a number of minor and sub-minor films. Screen writer John Grey adapted this one from Palmer's short story "The Riddle of the Forty Naughty Girls." According to IMDB, Grey had 32 credits from 1934-1952, half of which were short features. (One of his credits, Private Snuffy Smith, based on the Barney Google comic strip character, is worthy of a Forgotten Film entry of its own.) Grey capped out his career with three episodes of Sky King. (Apropos of nothing, Gloria Winters, who played Penny in that series, died last August at 78. How could one of my childhood crushes be that old?)
Eight movies were made about Hildegarde Withers. Edna May Oliver took the lead role in the first three: The Penguin Pool Murder (1932), Murder on the Blackboard (1934), and Murder on a Honeymoon (1935). Helen Broderick did the honors in Murder on a Bridle Path (1936), after which Zasu Pitts did two turns: The Plot Thickens (1936) and the film under discussion. In 1950, Hildegarde Withers was renamed (but not Craig Rice's John J. Malone) in Mrs. O'Malley and Mr. Malone (1950, from a short story by Palmer and Rice). In 1972, Eve Arden starred in a television movie, A Very Missing Person.
Palmer also has a number of screenwriting credits, many of which are of passing interest: One Frightened Night, The Nitwits, Yellowstone, Hollywood Stadium Mystery, Bulldog Drummond's Peril, Arrest Bulldog Drummond, Bulldog Drummond's Bride, Death of a Champion, Emergency Squad, Seventeen, Opened by Mistake, Who Killed Aunt Maggie?, "The Smiling Ghost", Secrets of the Lone Wolf, Pardon My Stripes, Home in Wyomin', Halfway to Shanghai, The Falcon's Brother, X Marks the Spot, The Falcon Strikes Back, Murder in Times Square, Petticoat Larceny, Step by Step, and one episode of The Millionaire. All sound like good Saturday afternoon watching. Or, you could pick up an old Stuart Palmer mystery. That's entertainment.
**********
Stop by Todd Mason's blog Sweet Freedom today for a continuing updated and always fascinating list of today's Forgotten Films.
Monday, April 18, 2011
MUMBLES, RUMBLES, AND GRUMBLES
- Still trying to find out if the person who hit me two week's ago had insurance. The insurance information given to the police didn't pan out: the policy number didn't exist and the company said it doesn't insure private cars. The state police managed to come up with another insurance company and policy number, but it turns out this policy was cancelled a year ago. In the meantime, my car appears to be totalled and is racking up all sorts of storage charges from the towing company and the hospital is salivating for payment. Oh, and we had to buy a new car. Payments for the next six or seven years.
- Jason Statham as Westlake's Parker? He'd make a great Parker, but I doubt Hollywood will make a great Parker.
- Income tax time. Thank you IRS for making me realize how little money is coming in.
- On Randy Johnson's blog Not the Baseball Pitcher, he points out an old Dick Cavett show where Mickey Spillane, Evan Hunter, Robert B. Parker, and Sister Carol Anne O'Marie were interviewed. Who on television today would have that type of interview? Craig Ferguson, maybe. Nobody else.
- Words I would rather not have heard: "Let's biopsy this, anyway. Just to make sure."
- My GPS does not like Baltimore. If it had it's way, I'd still be driving around in circles.
- On pulpetti, Juri Nummelin informs us that Finland has just elected a right-wing Parliament. He's not happy. he'll be even unhappier if I'm able to send over the American politicians I want to.
- Two James bond movies in the works? O, joy!
- Best movie I saw recently: Fair Game. Best book I've read recently: The sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. Best television show I've watched recently: a tie between Law & Order: UK and the MHz International Mystery Movies with Inspector Montabano.
- I have come to the realization that some day I will have to buy a Kindle or some other e-reader. Dammit.
- I missed the World Folk Music Concert this year with Peter Yarrow, The Limelighters, Carolyn Hester, Schooner Fare, Steve Gillette, and many others. I am appropriately bummed. Even more so because I missed the follow-on concert with The Chad Mitchell Trio and Side by Side, two of the very best groups EVER.I will be walking around witha dark rain cloud over my head, like the Li'l Abner character, for at least a month.
- The adventures of a dead step-father may be an upcoming blog if I can get permission from the live step-daughter.
- I can't decide which has the prettiest tone, a violin or a cello, but every once in a while I'd put my money on a mandolin.
- Donald Trump for president? Are you kidding me? Or is just a ploy to keep Celebrity Apprentice on for another year?
BIRTHDAY UPDATE
Shortly after I posted about her birthday, in pranced the birthday girl, her sister, and her mother, here from Massachusetts for a few days for Spring vacation. Amy brought her cello.
Whoot!
Whoot!
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