tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88699065106331003292024-02-07T07:08:46.543-05:00Overheard in the 'HoodA chronicle of the funny, odd and bizarre things heard on Wedgewood Drive and beyond.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.comBlogger85125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-55961279831069792872011-01-21T20:11:00.000-05:002011-01-21T20:11:18.562-05:00Training starts early for "the belt"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTddnZudvdmj6C_gZKWlKDqE7-yKRf0Lz0r4G2jb-IFo38bRLEXnSWwOfN_KFZb7-5UOP23wurKVkYF8baOvf2v5-dZz1NGX6wWPEKOCVDEu5NuoG06D0BO3OX1yvMXJuNunJ9ZiUMySO3/s1600/cards.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="197" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTddnZudvdmj6C_gZKWlKDqE7-yKRf0Lz0r4G2jb-IFo38bRLEXnSWwOfN_KFZb7-5UOP23wurKVkYF8baOvf2v5-dZz1NGX6wWPEKOCVDEu5NuoG06D0BO3OX1yvMXJuNunJ9ZiUMySO3/s200/cards.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Playing cards at the table...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Dad, catching a glimpse at her hand</strong>: Oops!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>9 year old daughter</strong>: Don't worry. You see I'm gathering <em>red</em>, but you don't know the <em>species</em>.</span>Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-22684727879560793262011-01-20T12:36:00.000-05:002011-01-20T12:36:34.403-05:00Well, they're sorta the same...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRB01DHE3ZH9xg_8_4UBJtaswzNIqNzRMZNaVS1tMHg-7HfCmtxNeGip9fyOSocjm6HN_jgyVM6VmVQ5_eqW2DLCTI_MlOjNCi2NzL_Tfm3rAvKg2PsQwDy-WQ1SSZlsUpx_TqIJ4wgBW/s1600/Lamborghini.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghRB01DHE3ZH9xg_8_4UBJtaswzNIqNzRMZNaVS1tMHg-7HfCmtxNeGip9fyOSocjm6HN_jgyVM6VmVQ5_eqW2DLCTI_MlOjNCi2NzL_Tfm3rAvKg2PsQwDy-WQ1SSZlsUpx_TqIJ4wgBW/s200/Lamborghini.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At the Ice Skating Rink...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>11 year old daughter</strong>: Mom, when are they going to bring out the Zamborghini?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Mom</strong>: You mean the Zamboni?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>11 year old daughter</strong>: Whatevs</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9bp30Py3E0oed4QLMI5c6rNwOFIuxYqq6IiRAZ0L9Dgug1DKtyoHDjbNO9GLV9TvksehBO1QpJZ8bhfbpQRIHehqaqXxSn6qv-uvIRE3rd5VfLtSDEUOVGg-awOzxz50UHQJp-Evij9q/s1600/zamboni.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG9bp30Py3E0oed4QLMI5c6rNwOFIuxYqq6IiRAZ0L9Dgug1DKtyoHDjbNO9GLV9TvksehBO1QpJZ8bhfbpQRIHehqaqXxSn6qv-uvIRE3rd5VfLtSDEUOVGg-awOzxz50UHQJp-Evij9q/s200/zamboni.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-71858706011317123552011-01-18T17:17:00.000-05:002011-01-18T17:17:56.829-05:00Progress<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YL3ajuYlw0ATm59tllDOrpFavxHi8W0vovP9cWaA_v7MId_GmATmggSjrQDl1ke5zyrA3fyQFlF06gvsqkVGUi3OGk_zdlnN6SSfQ7NEf0Ic3mzUuFLwLR1bEKqebjx59GFo9AtgTBqL/s1600/canned_sweet_corn.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YL3ajuYlw0ATm59tllDOrpFavxHi8W0vovP9cWaA_v7MId_GmATmggSjrQDl1ke5zyrA3fyQFlF06gvsqkVGUi3OGk_zdlnN6SSfQ7NEf0Ic3mzUuFLwLR1bEKqebjx59GFo9AtgTBqL/s200/canned_sweet_corn.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">On the phone with Grandma...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Grandma</strong>: Vanson wants to talk with you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Mom</strong>: O.k.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>8 year old son, very excited</strong>: Mom! Mom! I tried a new food! I tried a new food and I liked it. It was <em>CORN</em>!</span>Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-24861623437846814772011-01-10T10:26:00.000-05:002011-01-10T10:26:31.643-05:00Priorities...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXOuoXFeoAyyAbORz5O86385kzY_x5r9qixecLsrSiycTMGCb2JzVjRfivB5RnB6kgiAXXv4FXn2IFKlpcr-BERjenuw_dRvIw4PcRKAueeoSx-sLYagmqSDnkwKd1hqs4ylJMzXhYJxa/s1600/drink-fountain-punch-bowl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoXOuoXFeoAyyAbORz5O86385kzY_x5r9qixecLsrSiycTMGCb2JzVjRfivB5RnB6kgiAXXv4FXn2IFKlpcr-BERjenuw_dRvIw4PcRKAueeoSx-sLYagmqSDnkwKd1hqs4ylJMzXhYJxa/s200/drink-fountain-punch-bowl.jpg" width="161" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Mom</strong>: And don't forget, you and Dad are going to that Father-daughter dance in February.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>9 Year old daughter</strong>: Oh that's right!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>11 Year old daughter</strong>: What? What Father-daughter dance?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Mom</strong>: It's only for Girl Scouts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>9 Year old daughter</strong>: And yeah, I hope they have a <em>PUNCH BOWL</em>!</span>Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-16845526687428119352010-12-20T19:27:00.000-05:002010-12-20T19:27:33.607-05:00Maybe she's a little shopped out<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2VVYhANnrahDo6dMMAT7rrKUwXCfr6gabDziXe68FzpoYOyAWbJvXFQZ47mQbusDC-3kC13VE2K9bC56sG1AaJ8w85jp7A2Y9QdaX3u_4PAlhGu146BM2pNf2lZsrV5VuM5K2bwNcKw6t/s1600/holiday-shopping-stores.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="149" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2VVYhANnrahDo6dMMAT7rrKUwXCfr6gabDziXe68FzpoYOyAWbJvXFQZ47mQbusDC-3kC13VE2K9bC56sG1AaJ8w85jp7A2Y9QdaX3u_4PAlhGu146BM2pNf2lZsrV5VuM5K2bwNcKw6t/s200/holiday-shopping-stores.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>In the car:<br />
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<strong>Mom, to 10 year old daughter</strong>: What would you think about stopping at Macy's?<br />
<strong>10 year old daughter</strong>: I would not.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-25974861400980832022010-10-07T10:47:00.003-04:002010-10-07T10:54:11.921-04:00Those poor rabbis<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiCHSs2kJjucS_adorLuN38kOijby5Ua0pyV5osJhklwxZeUveJL5cFaLF1-zlvGNgtuUELa-wkFPH_wis6HPUs0JjxOqxi8U1h2rYpNQKA6BPh3f8lI3AQnq9TwITk4SE6YECN0vWqQV/s1600/rabbi.GIF"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsiCHSs2kJjucS_adorLuN38kOijby5Ua0pyV5osJhklwxZeUveJL5cFaLF1-zlvGNgtuUELa-wkFPH_wis6HPUs0JjxOqxi8U1h2rYpNQKA6BPh3f8lI3AQnq9TwITk4SE6YECN0vWqQV/s320/rabbi.GIF" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5525316872778974562" border="0" /></a><br />nine year old son: Mom, have you ever climbed Mt. Everest?<br /><br />mom: No, and I don't plan to. It's very difficult, and very expensive.<br /><br />six year old daughter: Why is it so difficult?<br /><br />son: Well, it's very dangerous up there at the high altitude. But there are these guys who carry your stuff for you, they're called rabbis.<br /><br />mom: Uh...I think you mean sherpas.Jessy Randallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06000418040994781365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-55241375488169856922010-10-03T12:36:00.000-04:002010-10-03T12:36:34.292-04:0010 is the new 40<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRh3eWxvTKwCjI5x0PmIucpO1OI3N7msc0_Yw9mXsT7Hl0jcf-pUxQSTnHL93mjOOCSHKp_xlz4jGgi994_z649yB_1FiUJO15xfFtgnCFD1eSlOO9XtEZwONzMYGKw5N57tnVdBj-Oi0t/s1600/wrecl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRh3eWxvTKwCjI5x0PmIucpO1OI3N7msc0_Yw9mXsT7Hl0jcf-pUxQSTnHL93mjOOCSHKp_xlz4jGgi994_z649yB_1FiUJO15xfFtgnCFD1eSlOO9XtEZwONzMYGKw5N57tnVdBj-Oi0t/s200/wrecl.jpg" width="133" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>10 year old daughter, writing</strong>: Mom, I need some ideas on how to wreck my journal when I'm done. Things like burn it, drop it in the ocean</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>Mom</strong>: You could drop it in hot lava</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>10 year old daughter</strong>: C'mom mom, I need something <em>plausible</em></span></div>Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-27463293483542622382010-09-30T20:55:00.000-04:002010-09-30T20:55:14.262-04:00I think I know what he'll be when he grows up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4K-52VL5Er5grHdZ5dMkxDiQgWV5xnA02yMcTWCy5EEXlp3hsnthIeZBQ9VrN7FExwZMquwB8cnRTC1ZMcGUhPlcJ535zoJbP9F_zlPEkEESvDWt1lYimxHnmqJZttltRda_S4aHhQwL/s1600/knex.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe4K-52VL5Er5grHdZ5dMkxDiQgWV5xnA02yMcTWCy5EEXlp3hsnthIeZBQ9VrN7FExwZMquwB8cnRTC1ZMcGUhPlcJ535zoJbP9F_zlPEkEESvDWt1lYimxHnmqJZttltRda_S4aHhQwL/s200/knex.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><strong>7 year old son, hollering</strong>: MOM! I can't find the constructions! I can't build my rocket without the constructions! MO-OM! Find dem!</span>Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-69305330200543634942010-07-07T19:04:00.003-04:002010-07-07T19:10:53.936-04:00Birds of a Feather<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-5wKu7QUhwhzWS-1yKB6WDYhHNEfwiSzM33ppRUMBrcBwIJxffDm2tL4KrPvFNPbm2s77bHks_0NSPpS1oXagGHdvPJ0_0EhyphenhyphenTZtZz0LHoKZM5BSp0XJLuaBcprQntOdSxWhmSlRbn_0/s1600/bird.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 133px; height: 110px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-5wKu7QUhwhzWS-1yKB6WDYhHNEfwiSzM33ppRUMBrcBwIJxffDm2tL4KrPvFNPbm2s77bHks_0NSPpS1oXagGHdvPJ0_0EhyphenhyphenTZtZz0LHoKZM5BSp0XJLuaBcprQntOdSxWhmSlRbn_0/s320/bird.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5491304826435926850" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Dad and 9 year old son notice the "mama and papa" birds who have a nest under porch are back.<br /><br />Dad: "Maybe they are going to have more babies."<br />9 year old looks for eggs in the nest...<br />9 year old: "Nothing there, but maybe she's eggnant."Kris Caseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14934778034345965170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-75002052340436686342010-04-06T17:52:00.001-04:002010-04-06T17:54:02.554-04:00Bad Math<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGN4H_yHi0YTN5jp7xmmIH0t8jQRCFz2X3ardt_uA7_pTx9P0l2vNin4e2CXl7lOrBT2zUak9wjwoauTcVkALxr1D__lYEkbv8qiqHyW3cgOBeO-FJuL3ntDs6c0PVzw8PdNkDa8nEWuR/s1600/ist2_343983-cranky-old-lady.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjGN4H_yHi0YTN5jp7xmmIH0t8jQRCFz2X3ardt_uA7_pTx9P0l2vNin4e2CXl7lOrBT2zUak9wjwoauTcVkALxr1D__lYEkbv8qiqHyW3cgOBeO-FJuL3ntDs6c0PVzw8PdNkDa8nEWuR/s320/ist2_343983-cranky-old-lady.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457146037500149314" border="0" /></a><br /><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Dinner table conversation:</span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Mom, how old are you?<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">40.</span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Dad, how old are you?<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">39.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">So, dad is going to turn 40 soon.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Right.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">And mom is going to turn 50 soon.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">WHAT?</span></h3>Jessy Randallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06000418040994781365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-79514014383504182762010-02-02T12:51:00.002-05:002010-02-02T13:01:01.079-05:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjch2O-4YoiDP5jNGF3dXq7XMdstR_XDYo8-aXJHmTwmX0MCdE6FTS-sK8Gu9_9nAcFMHgBJ5gpQUL8eHtXapdKeO0al8TNZzNrE2LbpXyQY1boEwCl1JQCStZqJrDlSAM2a6UamWOPgoLa/s1600-h/terraverde.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 82px; height: 82px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjch2O-4YoiDP5jNGF3dXq7XMdstR_XDYo8-aXJHmTwmX0MCdE6FTS-sK8Gu9_9nAcFMHgBJ5gpQUL8eHtXapdKeO0al8TNZzNrE2LbpXyQY1boEwCl1JQCStZqJrDlSAM2a6UamWOPgoLa/s320/terraverde.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433707611806740594" border="0" /></a><br />Mom: I'm going to go downtown and spend my Terra Verde gift card. Want to come?<br /><br />Five-year-old (almost six!) daughter: What's Terra Verde?<br /><br />Mom: A store with clothes and soap and stuff like that -- nothing for kids, I'm afraid.<br /><br />Daughter: Is it near anything fun?<br /><br />Mom: No, not really.<br /><br />Daughter: Why would I want to go?<br /><br />Mom: Well, no reason really, but I thought I'd invite you.<br /><br />Daughter: Okay, I'll go.Jessy Randallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06000418040994781365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-29174862594714525642009-12-31T20:07:00.000-05:002009-12-31T20:09:08.746-05:00Not gonna do it....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1PUZKK7JgVsNhl6wcEGT2DNb5q7BAV0l5qYhEoTaRcQstqYYOvnXVCjFMC7x4vtoriXayw6H_7o7MzDndUGUceSPzdwDaj92CvKNl2OeWMXcKIVt-vlHmEbFTtPI1dtDzssnFKoguxc/s1600-h/Nobride.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA1PUZKK7JgVsNhl6wcEGT2DNb5q7BAV0l5qYhEoTaRcQstqYYOvnXVCjFMC7x4vtoriXayw6H_7o7MzDndUGUceSPzdwDaj92CvKNl2OeWMXcKIVt-vlHmEbFTtPI1dtDzssnFKoguxc/s320/Nobride.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5421571975009172898" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Wife to Husband: "Please don't overcook my steak."<br /><br /><br />8 year old son: "Women are hard to please, that's just another reason why I'm not getting married."Kris Caseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14934778034345965170noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-27490312941726924762009-12-19T17:45:00.002-05:002009-12-19T17:49:06.953-05:00The answer girl<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4xHcsKjsMDfMPu3TJiTdGNJic8_lbwMiIr_GzbEhdZmSBd4E7dK58jDMxkAZkhVIwi14CSnYrYla9eAvpBlD8XK_1vSJTeSLlGImQ5HE4ka_3stEJDoK8La6E0O82pCbNEOzB7AFHk39/s1600-h/IMG_0573.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 142px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha4xHcsKjsMDfMPu3TJiTdGNJic8_lbwMiIr_GzbEhdZmSBd4E7dK58jDMxkAZkhVIwi14CSnYrYla9eAvpBlD8XK_1vSJTeSLlGImQ5HE4ka_3stEJDoK8La6E0O82pCbNEOzB7AFHk39/s200/IMG_0573.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5417082498908640258" /></a><br />Driving in the car...<br /><br /><strong>Mom, cheerily</strong>: And don't forget we have to practice the songs for the Christmas pageant!<br /><br /><strong>9 year old daughter</strong>: [Groan] Mom! Do we HAVE to?<br /><br /><strong>8 year old daughter</strong>: Don't worry Sophia. We can just Lip-sing it.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-78040823156550197142009-11-29T19:22:00.002-05:002009-11-29T19:28:06.413-05:00Good thing I speak Boy Scout<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtC_yIP9y7_DA-tlg6p1DVPgyjwX6q9VPEu5R_enHT5Ta8_ZVFl_DdUO0TmP2eZXKtuAPt5mykJB0FLTg4K06GUoyfjEt1e1udqf9q5g8JEagsqbMic71w_efHT8HzceCx_nIM2lMTNTC/s1600/Scout_Oath.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 165px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCtC_yIP9y7_DA-tlg6p1DVPgyjwX6q9VPEu5R_enHT5Ta8_ZVFl_DdUO0TmP2eZXKtuAPt5mykJB0FLTg4K06GUoyfjEt1e1udqf9q5g8JEagsqbMic71w_efHT8HzceCx_nIM2lMTNTC/s200/Scout_Oath.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409685852061299282" /></a><br />Doorbell rings. Mom opens door...<br /><br /><strong>Boy Scout</strong>: We left you...the can goods...paper.<br /><br /><strong>Mom, thinking furiously</strong>: Right! Be right back.<br /><br />(Returns with bag of cans for food drive)<br /><br /><strong>Boy Scout</strong>: Uh...thanks.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-37965259181073354312009-11-28T16:17:00.002-05:002009-11-28T16:21:23.135-05:00Infiltration Complete<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXlSO__zOzS_UqmEoVdxWTi71aul9BSCSkFzXJjyUn-w0QqG04GOdk4sHAtOXzMgJtrXscVfzSbX7lNm29k9pEMW1eNO8gdu6ZRyWR_IN5_M221bEx062A_wN-yS3Dr8AHZK-1UuioaY7/s1600/IMG_1067.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXlSO__zOzS_UqmEoVdxWTi71aul9BSCSkFzXJjyUn-w0QqG04GOdk4sHAtOXzMgJtrXscVfzSbX7lNm29k9pEMW1eNO8gdu6ZRyWR_IN5_M221bEx062A_wN-yS3Dr8AHZK-1UuioaY7/s200/IMG_1067.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5409267180266965970" /></a><br />Cheerful 8 year old girl: Grandma, I've been in EVERY room of your house!<br /><br />Grandma: Really?<br /><br />8 year old girl: Yes. And I think I've touched <em>every single one </em>of your things!Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-35211587441105707932009-11-23T06:49:00.001-05:002009-11-23T06:51:30.387-05:00A nice glass of ...<h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Son: Why do they call it OJ?<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Me: Orange starts with O, Juice with J.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Son: why don't they call other juice BJ.<br /></span></h3><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><span class="UIStory_Message">Me: that's hard to answer.</span></h3>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08678013497090414112noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-22148621735278365842009-08-31T15:51:00.002-04:002009-08-31T15:54:50.567-04:00A Good Name for a Camel<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd2HBtY8WrMQWGPoOsxHGjtMcVIUEL4sv2AhbO7oBnfGr9IAgxqg95fktBD33d0ewb6YrRo_fdHgGFLpLobm-YoyOq71H64GjpRObav6IZsGZn7vLrAbCC-PQDeLGjj_J4o_HDcmDo1Ee/s1600-h/camel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 115px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhd2HBtY8WrMQWGPoOsxHGjtMcVIUEL4sv2AhbO7oBnfGr9IAgxqg95fktBD33d0ewb6YrRo_fdHgGFLpLobm-YoyOq71H64GjpRObav6IZsGZn7vLrAbCC-PQDeLGjj_J4o_HDcmDo1Ee/s320/camel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5376218712446058034" border="0" /></a><br />Mother: So, I know you got to ride on a camel today at the carnival. If you had your own camel, what would you name it, do you think?<br /><br />Five year old daughter: Hmmmm...<br /><br />Mother: How about Cameron?<br /><br />No.<br /><br />Cammy?<br /><br />No.<br /><br />Camille?<br /><br />No.<br /><br />Camilla?<br /><br />No.<br /><br />Well, what would you name it?<br /><br />Farty Face.Jessy Randallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06000418040994781365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-52112840468381776602009-08-16T18:20:00.002-04:002009-08-16T18:26:18.622-04:00An affair to remember...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUOm7qfnwIoNXXpAdVXj_yCFIuyXJCoCtmS4SCTOvGLOsgDra750ljWwXBZPG5hx9ihfzL55USpOv9HltLwssLCEXlCwiwUJOuEyNjc8z4UPtQ_oa8IA6T6i78ce75sk0jxK4Fjsc7SEE/s1600-h/tickets2.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 195px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgUOm7qfnwIoNXXpAdVXj_yCFIuyXJCoCtmS4SCTOvGLOsgDra750ljWwXBZPG5hx9ihfzL55USpOv9HltLwssLCEXlCwiwUJOuEyNjc8z4UPtQ_oa8IA6T6i78ce75sk0jxK4Fjsc7SEE/s200/tickets2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370691375442417266" /></a><br />In the kitchen<br /><br />Mom, reading ferry ticket out loud: One Adult fare...expires 8/18/09. Darn!<br /><br />8 year old daughter: Oh Mommy! When's the fair?<br /><br />Mom: What?<br /><br />8 year old daughter: The Fair. The Adult Fair.<br /><br />Mom: No, no, it's a ticket. The fare...it's how much it costs.<br /><br />8 year old daughter, puzzled: Oh...o.k.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-24849763314351172052009-08-10T13:39:00.011-04:002009-08-10T14:01:19.895-04:00He gets me!In the car on the way home from a weekend trip,<br />Audioslave followed by Foo Fighters on the radio.<br />Husband to wife: "Hey its a double shot of your boyfriends."<br />A wonderful example of a husband accepting his wife's rockstar<br /> obsessions.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQc0JcdxEQR2yVTr8RqHsgm12ZKDqtLFtsy8YLwLJyt_WZdPDq2n87vfIsI1w4MoSASY40d1RTDHxd34ferfk3UMZCEmc57nUUH0s9aFeDaiMf5QWfHGqXaKjz7fNPRSZ8ZMoVCgCCjo/s1600-h/davegrohl.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 164px; height: 154px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMQc0JcdxEQR2yVTr8RqHsgm12ZKDqtLFtsy8YLwLJyt_WZdPDq2n87vfIsI1w4MoSASY40d1RTDHxd34ferfk3UMZCEmc57nUUH0s9aFeDaiMf5QWfHGqXaKjz7fNPRSZ8ZMoVCgCCjo/s320/davegrohl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368393278601366642" border="0" /></a><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFMxPA5KmLYxN7jBOQhSDtq6qG3qHRsL0VDviNncUeOqQX61NnF2Fn03XPbN9Z_fXg-axLeEP1cnmQVQ15LYVVMmzqi5wYMTGY7nhe2bF-0TFt-AiifVmiEXNeLAkifuweH80oHKl4zE/s1600-h/corneltim.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 187px; height: 125px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPFMxPA5KmLYxN7jBOQhSDtq6qG3qHRsL0VDviNncUeOqQX61NnF2Fn03XPbN9Z_fXg-axLeEP1cnmQVQ15LYVVMmzqi5wYMTGY7nhe2bF-0TFt-AiifVmiEXNeLAkifuweH80oHKl4zE/s320/corneltim.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368393277558892018" border="0" /></a>Kris Caseyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14934778034345965170noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-31785660093337402792009-08-03T20:32:00.003-04:002009-08-03T20:36:15.412-04:00They don't have a dental plan, eitherHubby calling wifey from the break room...<br /><br /><strong>Wifey</strong>: Are you coming with us to the party or are you going to work?<br /><br /><strong>Hubby</strong>: Yeah, don't you remember? I'm playing H-O-O-K-Y.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-8483268560722910982009-07-31T15:19:00.002-04:002009-07-31T15:21:42.970-04:00<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicItu7Qrdk9Q_CUw-jX2vzWz0Y1Y9l5eZAm8t8Jp9xNu29KqWz-7dGn-0KezFVPxKb4WWm3FTSBn1WvqlAsedzHg0A-Gn53v-NoWtymudXWYPuVh010beEHqP9tccPfByfLyit66msu0aY/s1600-h/potty.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicItu7Qrdk9Q_CUw-jX2vzWz0Y1Y9l5eZAm8t8Jp9xNu29KqWz-7dGn-0KezFVPxKb4WWm3FTSBn1WvqlAsedzHg0A-Gn53v-NoWtymudXWYPuVh010beEHqP9tccPfByfLyit66msu0aY/s320/potty.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364706536310910722" border="0" /></a><br />Five year old daughter, first thing in the morning: Mommy, Daddy, here is something I know. If you dream you have to go potty, you should not use the dream toilet. You should wake up and use the real toilet.<br /><br />Mother and father: That is very good advice.Jessy Randallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06000418040994781365noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-46712896535112727942009-07-28T15:29:00.002-04:002009-07-28T15:33:40.185-04:00Sup?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXmh74YJIXPVx_21xH0oW2mXz8hRPM-1NX8dpGo2Na1yrmXN3Z7VkNLjvYMB2s5OBC-NxRHom3aSEtj8ZEurzW4J7BwkpT0I8KyJKuvt3RQjiJT-k7rl2EYDOcyTQShEIsC7A9R7GQaaM/s1600-h/sup.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 91px; height: 127px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizXmh74YJIXPVx_21xH0oW2mXz8hRPM-1NX8dpGo2Na1yrmXN3Z7VkNLjvYMB2s5OBC-NxRHom3aSEtj8ZEurzW4J7BwkpT0I8KyJKuvt3RQjiJT-k7rl2EYDOcyTQShEIsC7A9R7GQaaM/s320/sup.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363596373513321810" border="0" /></a><br />Five year old daughter: Mommy, when that kid said "'sup?", what did that mean?<br /><br />Mom: It's a short way of saying "What's up?".<br /><br />Eight year old son (in a teacherly way): And it's not proper English to say "What's up?" either. You are supposed to say "What's happening?".Jessy Randallhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06000418040994781365noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-86148679990494892642009-07-12T16:10:00.002-04:002009-07-12T16:18:57.051-04:00Mom gets no slack<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihD5sasWy4ELHU3qbr4GU0Q6tEOoAwxlvt7lBKL0RcisOByN6659Nu328qf2UZtyit-p3pgKaxTuH0rKtDeehzie7j4JTojmL2yTmVAq0qfh6JIiJ5rX0RlFV17X4QPc2drnr7cYxDtfPf/s1600-h/flag.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihD5sasWy4ELHU3qbr4GU0Q6tEOoAwxlvt7lBKL0RcisOByN6659Nu328qf2UZtyit-p3pgKaxTuH0rKtDeehzie7j4JTojmL2yTmVAq0qfh6JIiJ5rX0RlFV17X4QPc2drnr7cYxDtfPf/s200/flag.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357670486990899730" /></a><br />In the car...<br /><br /><strong>Mom, singing softly to self</strong>: "I will go down with this ship..."<br /><br /><strong>7 year old daughter</strong>: Mom? Are you singing?<br /><br /><strong>Mom</strong>: Nope.<br /><br /><strong>Mom, singing even more quietly</strong>: "I won't put my hands up in surrender..."<br /><br /><strong>7 year old daughter</strong>: Mo-om! I can see you! Your lips are moving! No singing!<br /><br /><strong>Mom</strong>: O.k.! O.k.!Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-66892289948909985402009-06-25T20:25:00.003-04:002009-06-25T20:26:49.844-04:00Houston, we have a problem<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBwKeyE3dy_WSXFQjkGFsmKH9_gaCFE3VeFFF4HQcXUlJR6zynWEMpFLCZjsslm7IwNDxFT_GWaeEeqAOPEwNCJKuMt-ma8LpKQ22vlxQ8Wnu8jc1FiBp1Fwr_Ru5w_EhnqAhm0K0-FDa/s1600-h/vera.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBwKeyE3dy_WSXFQjkGFsmKH9_gaCFE3VeFFF4HQcXUlJR6zynWEMpFLCZjsslm7IwNDxFT_GWaeEeqAOPEwNCJKuMt-ma8LpKQ22vlxQ8Wnu8jc1FiBp1Fwr_Ru5w_EhnqAhm0K0-FDa/s200/vera.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351425948580931522" /></a><br /><strong>Seven year old daughter trying on shoes</strong>: Mom, are these your new sandals? They're hot. Can you get me a pair?Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8869906510633100329.post-50083214186016285772009-06-25T20:18:00.004-04:002009-06-25T20:27:25.620-04:00Should we be more specific? Nah.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlF9XJXNJ5vffgWHYwsnIhpNO8MoVqZBoHvP-DlvxMMJqkBuXp51ZwE6IGewUFeUeRtE1lkBG6juOPaqhdKFnfIpxSYaA4-6FuMpGXPIVb4-7cOLLLcvR4sHoLEv68kRv6nfwVX8tHnmd4/s1600-h/bg.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlF9XJXNJ5vffgWHYwsnIhpNO8MoVqZBoHvP-DlvxMMJqkBuXp51ZwE6IGewUFeUeRtE1lkBG6juOPaqhdKFnfIpxSYaA4-6FuMpGXPIVb4-7cOLLLcvR4sHoLEv68kRv6nfwVX8tHnmd4/s200/bg.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351425100020926114" /></a><br /><strong>Seven year old daughter to dad</strong>: Dad, were you there when mom pooped me out?<br /><br /><strong>Dad, after a long pause</strong>: yeah, I was there.Annettehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08847274527913545325noreply@blogger.com0