Just say no.

Why do people have such a hard time saying no? It's simple, repeat after me "No." See how easy that was? Now just don't do it at the wrong time-like if someone offers you a big diamond or a weekend of free babysitting (for some reason people actually say silly things like "No, really I couldn't" well, yeah really you could-say "Thank you" and walk away...fast before they change their mind). Everyone will tell you "Life is short," "There's not enough time." I say bullocks (that's not really swearing if you read it in the US is it?) life is actually quite long and we all have enough time to do what we choose to do. But we must choose the things that make us happy--and yes I get it, the laundry still needs to be done, the floors still need to be swept and someone needs to pick up treats for the school/office party. But guess what, if you don't do the laundry today it will still be there tomorrow (and we all have plenty of clothes to last a couple of days and hey you could always turn them inside out and have a whole new outfit!) If you don't wash the floors the dirt will still be there tomorrow and if you do wash the floors the dirt is going to be there again tomorrow anyway. If you don't buy the treats someone else will do it this time (or maybe everyone will lose a few ounces by skipping the treat all together). I said "No" (OK, maybe I just hid when I saw the PTO coming...thank God for caller id) to a few "opportunities" this year and guess what they still got accomplished (with out me, I know)!  There is power in the word no, try it with your kids or spouse-you don't always have to have a "head ache" just say "No" (then make them wait 10 seconds and say "Just kidding"). Oh, and by the way, can any one take my kids for the weekend?

Tick Tock

Do you ever feel a little tickle or have a "feeling" something is on you? Have you ever seen a speck of leaf or dirt somewhere on you...and then it starts moving? Well welcome to the cabin scene. We were not even at the cabin for 30 minutes before one of the Wild Ones had a tick crawling up his leg. I was so ready to run to his rescue (NOT!) when he calmly picked it off and showed it to me. Just as I was going to take it (NOT!) it started crawling and in a moment of "freak out" he flicked it at me. We both screamed and I wanted to run, but I knew it could very well be crawling up my shirt and running would have only made it hang on tighter...or clamp on with its tiny little blood sucking jaw. It's OK-don't stress-I found it, knocked it to the ground (with a stick) and made sure that it wouldn't be looking for another snack. 

Day two, many other ticks were removed from dogs and other family members (I would have helped, but no one asked--really. OK my dad did ask when I saw a HUGE tick crawling up his back and I did try--with a stick-until he got pissed and pulled it off himself. I really would have done it had I thought it was life threatening-he probably wouldn't have even felt the blood being sucked from behind his ear). Later when the littlest Wild One had a tick embedded in his scalp I helped hold him down while my dad pulled it out with a tweezer--see I knew I could do it.

Day three, many more ticks, but mostly on the dogs. After seeing and hearing about so many ticks you kind of become immune to the threat (or fear) of one crawling on your skin. So...I was minding my own business, standing in the kitchen rubbing my butt (I honestly don't know what I was checking for-I hope I don't do that in public unconsciously) when I felt a tiny bump under my running pants (think speck of dirt) and continued what I was doing. Rubbing my butt?? Then a nagging little thought crept to the front of my mind telling me to get the dirt off my butt. Without looking (or asking someone else to look) I reached in my pants, grabbed the speck and pulled it around front for an inspection. You got it-a nasty little thing with a bit of skin hanging out of its mouth! Just as I was about to crush it (OK drop it) the little bugger jumped. I looked, I swear I did, but that little bugger was gone. Sorry mom. I gotta go I think I feel a tick...le.

"Workfest" 2008

Bring it on. There is nothing we can't do. A little tradition for the "Anderson Girls" and the two unfortunate saps that married them--a short to-do list at the parent's cabin. After all, the addition they put on is for the grandkids (or so that is what they say when we show up--probably the same story for each other "guest" they have). You can see the weekend started "Flamingo-Mango" style (at least they had their pants on...for the pictures) and ended AG (Andy Girl--follow along here) style with drinks on the roof--a celebration of a long, hot accomplishment. ***I forgot to warn mk to close her eyes...on the roof!! and drinking on the roof!! oh my!! The whole weekend was not devoted to hard labor-at least not for the Big Guy and the other Andy Girl who spent Monday on the couch...a little too much FunRoni Sunday night, but hey I have a date for Friday night at Fletchers and another date for Bike Fest 08--can't tell you the names of my dates just that my new biker friend is short enough to see me eye-to-eye. Today we are all a little sore and have a few more bruises (thanks to a couple of tangles with grabby trees in the woods--more on that later...if I remember), but the aches will heal (thanks to advil and neosporin)and we will be left with some great memories.  Stay tuned for tomorrows "tickling" stories.

Labor Day

I had a really funny story about Labor Day, but when I sat down to write I realized it's actually Memorial Day weekend (yeah I know this is one of those things you don't normally admit to out loud, but hey we're amongst friends-right?) Instead I will introduce you to two friends of mine-Mango and Flamingo. I believe they met last year at a Memorial Weekend "Workfest" and things have never been quite the same. Tune in Tuesday for new adventures of this weekends "Workfest 08."

On a serious note I will take some time on Monday (near the river, in my bathing suit and sunglasses) to think about all the men and women who have died serving our country. This used to be harder to do for someone my age (and yes yours too) as we could only imagine what wars were like and what it might have been like for someone to lose a son, daughter, spouse, child, grandchild or friend. Unfortunately many more of us now understand that loss as the men and women of America are dying again today. I will think of how these people believed in what they did and how they fought for our country--defending the freedoms of each of us and I will think of the families that have been left behind to get up and live another day. As they say "God Bless America"...please.

Girlfriends.

What would life be like with out your girlfriends? Ya know, I can't even go there--too crazy. My "girls"--and I have to include my favorite neighbor in that quote even those he masquerades as a man (and believe me he is all man) have held me up and gotten me where I am today. This includes BFFs, girlfriends, "the neighbor" and family (most of whom I consider friends--hee, hee). You know a true friend when you can let loose and not worry about it the next day--unless you have a friend who blogs--then watch out!! 

You can take a walk with out talking (or a run and just swear at each other in your heads and blame the crazy marathon training on the other one), meet for a glass of wine (vodka for me please, but a good friend knows that about me too) which usually turn into a "couple" of bottles, spend a weekend together and not laugh at each others hair first thing in the morning (but warn each other about similar hair later before you leave the house), hold the others hand in their darkest moment (or just cuz you want to), or bring the guys to christen a new house (see mk no one fell of the balcony)!! 

What ever you do life is better, easier, more fun with a girlfriend by your side. I read the following joke and thought of all of you. Cheers to all my "girls" I love you all.

A woman goes out with her girlfriends one night and the wine (beer, vodka) is going down well and they are having a great time (obviously) and didn't head for home until 2:30--feeling quite beautiful, smart and hot--aka drunk.

Just as "she" was walking in the door, the cuckoo clock clucked 3 times. Not wanting her husband to know how late she came home, she cuckooed 9 more times (still pretty "smart"). Feeling clever, she crawled in bed and fell asleep with a big smile on her face (ok, she passed out). In the morning when her husband asked her what time she got in she said (with socks on her teeth, raccoon eyes and bad 80's hair) "Midnight." She was feeling pretty smug until her husband told her they must need a new cuckoo clock. "Why is that," she asked? He told her that at 3 in the morning it cuckooed 3 times, said "oh crap," cuckooed 4 more times, cleared its throat, cuckooed 2 more times, giggled, cuckooed 3 times and then hiccuped.

Thanks for all the good times and thanks to the Big Guy who finds it "charming" when I come home full of shenanigans. 

Sporty Dads.

Yeah, I know it's a bit early for Father's Day, but I have to do a shout out to all the "sporty dads" that make t-ball, soccer, football, hockey and all those other kid activities a little more enjoyable. I go to watch the Wild Ones do their thing-and it is so cute and really quite fun (the Big Guy even has to give me the look or put his hand on my shoulder to let me know it's time to take it down a notch--you see I get a little excited when my kids rock). So as much as I enjoy the family thing, I gotta tell you we get a bonus out in our neck of the woods--I like to call them "sporty". They are the ones dressed in hot jeans, cute t-shirts and sometimes a baseball hat. Most wear sunglasses and sandals. I don't descriminate against those that come straight from work-nothing cuter than a dad in the middle of the field in a navy suit and crisp white shirt (tie removed please). But the thing that brings the biggest smile to my face (and warms my body) is one of these hotties out on the field leaning over(woohoo) and encouraging a small one and making them smile (it's kind of like a guy doing the dishes)! You all know who you are and next time you take your little guy/girls hand and leave the field know that you have made an impression on the moms on the field--especially the crazy one in the pink chair. Don't all trip over each other signing up to be the next coach--there is room for all of you. And don't worry...we see you.

I don't care who you are...it's the 21st century out there!

I know religion, sex and politics are supposed to be off limits, but when have I ever been one to follow rules when voicing my opinion?! And this topic covers all three--so there you go. I am a bit behind the times as I don't bill a lot of hours on the old boob tube, but I couldn't let this one slide. I heard today that Ellen has announced her engagement. 

I will keep this short and sweet (just like me...well short anyway). Two questions: who the hells business is it who marries whom--except maybe the parents of a sixteen year old girl; and why the heck do you care? Yeah I get the whole "bible says this" thing, but can you honestly believe that homosexual people choose that life style (does the boy drug and killed behind the pickup in Texas bring back any memories)? OK, I will give you the few that try it for the "thrill", but I have known enough gay people to know it's not the easier path in life. If it doesn't affect you (and I dare you to tell me it does) then why raise a fuss? Let people be and treat them as you ask to be treated. Where would the world be without girlfriends anyway (stay tuned for more on that tomorrow)?

This is sounding a little angry and pointed, I didn't mean that. I tend to get a little carried away when I am passionate about something (ya think?). Let's just celebrate the love in our lives, the love in the world and try to spread it around. Be happy for yourself and be happy for others (that means don't pass judgement--well at least about things we cannot control--I am all for "discussing" peoples taste in clothes, haircuts and attitudes and welcome your view on mine. Bring it on...I can take it--I think)!

Another little gem and I don't mean a stone.

Welcome to Cuba, I mean South Minneapolis. I drove by this cute little "hut" one day and knew I had to return for lunch on the patio--and I never break a promise to myself.

Take one bright sunny day, a coupla free hours and one hot date and swing into Victor's 1959 Cuban Cafe on 38th and Grand for a great lunch (or breakfast if you prefer, they serve both 'til 2:30). Or imagine a warm summer night--with same hot date--cold cuban beer in hand watching all the neighborhood kids riding by on their bikes. Either way this place will make you happy. 

Don't expect burgers and fries. They serve cuban sandwiches (yeah the real things--or at least what I expect the real things to be!) and imported sodas and beers, plus fresh juices of the mango and guava variety. (OK I just had to ask about the "imported" bottles they serve. The "story" is that these things are imported from Miami and are "made in a plant in Florida." Hmm...not sure I want to know the real story anyway.) Grilled sandwiches are served with plantain chips or tostones--large slices of fried plantains--mouth watering!

Bonus is the cute little neighborhood (with free parking) and gift shops on the other corners if you want to do some shopping. Who knew? If you want to try it, but lack the hot date, call me I'll hook you up (or join you).

What's the real deal with the "skinny chicks"?

It's spring, it's Friday, the sun is shining, everything is great. Until I stopped for lunch with the middle Wild One (and he just happens to be a skinny chick only here chick refers to "young one"). I order a plain grilled chicken breast--tastes good, just not too exciting but hey I'm OK with that. Then I look over at this woman eating a huge plateful of noodles with pesto (which, by the way, is exactly what I would have liked to order...but kept telling myself "bikini, boat, beach, bikini, boat, beach) and she wasn't just picking at it--she was devouring it--I looked later and yes she got her certificate (you know, the clean plate club). You think perhaps she was a "bigger" girl--nope skinniest damn chick in the place. No "bikini, boat, beach" going on in her little head. And let me just tell you she did not have the build of an athlete-no bicep muscles, no toned legs...just a whole lot of tight skin stretched over not much of anything and she had to be over 40(OMG!).  

Well I just don't get it...and I obviously didn't get "it" (what ever "it" is that people like that have) at birth--one more thing to blame my parents for!! Yeah, I know jealousy is never very pretty, but neither was she (that was low, but it was funny...for about a second). I have an abundance of what she is lacking (I think they call it plumpness) and I like it that way (sure, that explains the chicken breast). I've heard that guys like a girl with a little something to "hang on to" (yikes!) and I'm gonna go with that cuz it works really well for my body type. Here's to bikinis, boats and beaches and those of us that need a little extra fabric wrapped around us and a little extra space to "spread out".

The Butcher, The Baker...OK just The Butcher.

I had to run into the grocery store yesterday--just needed to grab "a few things", so no need for a cart (oh and by the way--I was not in my neck of the woods). I walked through the produce department and remembered that I had promised to get the Wild Ones some bananas--item one. And the blueberries were on sale two for $4 (and we eat two bins at a sitting)--items two and three. Next I needed some Wheat Thins (got home and realized why the-family size-box looked so funny, I bought Triscuits--crap!!)--item 4. Then I went in search of my favorite cheese, but on the way I realized we were out of butter--item 5, which reminded me that we were also out of mayo--item 6.  Still no cheese. Back to the other side of the store. I finally remembered the original reason for stopping here--vodka sauce (it's the only kind of red sauce the Wild Ones will eat--go figure) for our raviolis--item 7. Both hands are full and the balancing act is becoming a little tricky. I remember that the cheese I want is in the deli so again back across the store. Going through the meat section...my phone starts to ring. Thinking it might be one of the Wild Ones calling from school (see my phone has just been reprogrammed and the guys over at Visi changed all my rings--they are probably still getting a good laugh over that one--but I can no longer "listen" for who is calling). I can't remember where my phone is. I set my vodka sauce down in the meat case (it was in my right hand) and reach for the phone in my back left pocket--don't ask. As I am realizing that I cannot quite get it out (I think I may have been doing a little jig-what with the music playing on the phone and all) I look up and see a tall, dark and yes handsome man (looked pretty yummy even in his little white hat) smiling at me. Deer in headlights--I panicked for .5 seconds--recovered into a controlled "OMG" --rolled my eyes at myself and smiled back at him. I wait a second for him to walk away or my phone to shut up...I mean shut off, but neither happened. He kept smiling at me and asked if I needed any help. I kind of looked over my left shoulder and smiled agian. He stepped closer...and took the phone out of my pocket ("OMG" again!) and handed it to me. Then he smiled and walked off. Somehow in my stupor I found the cheese--items 8 and 9 and a water by the check out (throat was a little dry!)--item 10. I looked for the express lane, unloaded my arms and when I realized how heavy my two small parcels were, I looked around to see if the butcher was waiting to carry my bags.

What's going on here?

Bullies...we all know them, we've all been affected by one, perhaps even been one (I can't claim that one as a kid, I was so timid that no one even knew I was back there--hiding behind my mom's leg). It seems to start early--even in preschool...on the playground and on the bus. You've seen the kids: "You can't come to my party if you play with Susie today", "You can't sit with us" (but I want to play with you after school), shoving kids off the swing or to the back of the bus. You wonder who the parents of these kids are--some are sweet, some are just like their kids and some are both, but only let you see their public personality. Believe me the kids still pick it up and it's hard to get rid of.

Fast forward from the bus stop 20 years. Have you ever seen a woman berate a young barista for putting whipped cream on her double turtle latte (I don't think the whipped cream is gonna put you over the edge after all the other s*@% inside that cute little cup) or a man fluff his feathers and get in his girl friends face for talking to cute bartender for 3 seconds too long? Next time you do check out the face of the person being "attacked"--it's heart breaking no matter how old the victim is.

Keep your eyes and your heart open and remember your kids are watching you (and the people you hang with)!

Bathroom Etiquette.

Who decides on the rules for bathroom use--I'm talking public, not what happens behind your own closed doors? Perhaps I should write a pamphlet and leave it outside all such facilities. 

Last night I was at a movie (on a Monday! I know! It was great--the movie was good too) and I stopped to use the Loo before entering the theater.  I looked around, picked a stall that was number one-empty (that's always a good idea) and number two (no pun intended)-was not next to anyone else sitting on a throne. Well...evidently step two is not in everyone's copy of the bathroom book. A person (you'll understand in a minute why I cannot call her a lady) sits down RIGHT NEXT TO ME and then proceeds to relieve herself of enough ethanol to power the next space shuttle. I hardly had my pants back on before I was running out of the stall (I did pause long enough to check the foot ware next door incase I needed to do some glaring later). As I am washing my hands I see (in my grand peripheral vision) someone rush into the bathroom and right into my vacated stall. I'm thinking "What is with these people? 20 empty stalls and they sit next to the only occupied one?" Didn't the woman rushing in see the fumes funneling around the door? Maybe, I thought, it was part of one of those foot tapping games...until the smoke cleared and I could think clearly and knew that was a man thing--then I thought "Oh no, am I in the men's room?"

So I cleverly snuck a peek at the shoes under the second door and boy was I glad I had already emptied my bladder cuz what I saw was a cute little pair of black sneakers...covering my sister's feet. I'll have to make sure she gets a copy of my new pamphlet "Don't piss me off: a guide to bathroom etiqette."

"The Knitting Circle"

Do you ever wonder why certain things happen? 

Just the other day (hey those are the first words in a Garth Brooks song about unanswered prayers--good listen) I was jogging on a path I have never been on, a song came on my ipod that reminds me of my father-in-law (one about what may happen in heaven that I heard in my car as I drove to the hospital early the morning of the day that Jim died--another moment to ponder) and at that moment I said Hi to Jim and looked up to the sky...directly in my line of vision and very close was a huge plane--with a red tail (the airline that Jim ran for 30 years). Gave me shivers...and more to think about.

OK that is the kind of thing I am talking about that gets me thinking--you know about the whole spirituality thing and what is REALLY "out there". Well last week the oldest "Wild One" needed a new book from the library (some really awful series that she is reading) and I promised to stop and pick up the next one for her. She made me a list of the next two books in the series and which (two different) libraries they were at complete with hours and call letters. I had planned on swinging by both libraries after a meeting and getting both books (cuz she goes through them so fast--well really because I couldn't remember which one she said she needed first) but I had a little extra time so I went before the meeting even though it was way out of my way (important--first step in the how I got to the "moment" of wonder).

Next step--I actually had to talk to a librarian (rare in these automated times) because I had removed my library card from my wallet for our vacation. She assured me I could use my license to borrow the book so off I went to find it. I brought the book back to her (I didn't want any hassles from another librarian about my card--hey, it happened before and I had to get tough with her!) As she is looking me up--I so could have been long gone...if only I'd had my card--I see some books that she is checking in and one catches my attention: "The Knitting Circle". I don't know what it is about (OK maybe knitting?), but I just feel the need to read this book--and she is happy to give it to me, one less trip to the stacks for her!

I started reading the book and was mesmerized from the first page--it is about a woman whose 5 year old daughter has died and how she feels and deals with the loss. The observations she writes about could only come from someone who has lost a child. She joins a knitting circle and the book goes on to reveal each of the members "stories" as well as follows this woman's journey. 

I now understand why I was meant to read this book, but still marvel at how I "stumbled" upon it. It is an easy read although a bit emotional. I encourage everyone to read it--it may enlighten you to many things. Please visit www.annhood.us for more information about the book. And if you get an email from me announcing  a knitting club (Bitch and Stitch anyone) you better be there needles, yarn and empty (cocktail) glass in hand.

To all you Mothers...

What does Mother's Day mean? Is it a day for children to honor their mothers, for husbands to honor their wives (on behalf of or in support of thier children...or jsut because they love and respect and are grateful to the mothers of their children), for mothers to honor their daughters that are mothers? Is it for wives to honor their husbands mothers (for raising such wonderful young men..snicker here please) or should we all honor grandmothers, aunts, special friends?

Well I say "What the hell!" Let's honor all woman who, have given birth, all women who have taken in a child, all women who have taken in a man (it's kind of the same thing--right?), all women who care for and teach children, all women who have touched a child's life.  OH hell, let's even honor all women who have pets!

I have learned that women honor women best, and if I want a special day then I have to stand up and tell the world (really just the Big Guy and he doesn't usually get it) what I want. And since I am usually the only one listening I don't have to talk very loud. 

What do you want for Mother's Day? Diamonds, gifts, breakfast in bed? A day OFF from being a mother? Time alone with your family, bike rides, massages, ice cream? A day with no fighting and whining, a day with no cooking and cleaning, a day without walking Fido (full plastic bag tied to your belt)? 

Is Mother's Day about doing and getting what you want no that you are a mother or is it about what your mother, mother-in-law, grandmother, or special friend wants? Maybe we should all just pick a different day each year to honor our selves and go wild--oh yeah that's what birthdays are for...hmm. I say we all just get together and have one big party--the boys do all the prep, the cooking and the cleanup (and massages??). And all we mothers jsut sit back and relax--we have our own party to throw in June, and guys you better believe we're takin' notes from you.

To all the special women in my life my grandmothers, my mother (the picture is just a joke--I'm funny remember, my mother-in-law, my sister and sisters-in-law, my aunties and cousins, daughter and nieces, my BFF and all my other girl friends--here's to you:  (and I'm stealing the idea from someone else, but it works)

They say a friend will bail you out of jail, but a true friend will be sitting next to you saying "Damn, that was fun". This is when we will call one of the guys--and amid lots of laughter I know they will be there...just as soon as they can.

A very special Happy Mother's Day to the very most wonderful woman in my life--My mom (Darlene, Snook, Snookie Mom, Lini, Donie, "Mother!") I love you more than anything and am who I am because of you. I don't know if that is a complement or a blame, but for all my friends it may answer some questions (just give my mom a Jack and coke and you'll know where I came from)!

Why is this sooo funny?

Men are born with a fascination of that "thing" hanging between their legs. It's true...all little boys grab and poke and explore (wait I mean all boys--little, big, young, old...no discrimination when it comes to the part of their body that women will never have).

Guys we don't want one (on our body), we don't need to see you scratch, readjust or hear you make constant jokes about it. 

Why does that one little (I mean that in relation to the rest of your body...really) thing cause so many smirks and so much laughter?

And on the other hand, when referring or thinking about someone else's "little thing" does it cause so much panic?

OK I admit I also smirk and laugh (hopefully at appropriate times), but there will never be the same fascination--perhaps that's what they really mean when they say "penis envy".

Try not to giggle...boner, willy (hee,hee), pecker, joy stick (ha, I finally get that one), dong, dork (?), johnson, organ, member, package, shlong, tool, skin flute (guarantee these were made up by men or should I say boys?!), peter (what's with all the proper names?), dick (see?!), harry bagpipes, love muscle (I think they made that up for women--nice try), firm worm, one-eyed snake (gotta like that one), salty dog (eww), wanker and my favorite...wife's best friend.

Getting old.

What does it mean to get old? Do you measure it physically, mentally or in numbers? Why is it so different for everyone?

To a six year old getting older means graduating from Kindergarten and going to first grade. An 11 year old feels old when they graduate from 5th grade and move on to middle school--of course that makes the parents feel old too!  (What is with this whole graduating from different grades--when I was young we just said goodbye to our teacher on the last day of school, played all summer and then started up again in the fall.)

When you are young, getting older is a status. Kids look up to older kids (which is usually where they pick up all their bad habits and naughty words). Throw in some cigarettes, liquor and sex--what's not to admire (said with a sarcastic tone)?

I suppose turning 16, 18 and 21 is something to look forward to. Driving, being an adult and drinking...legally! At some point in your early twenties you stop looking forward to your birthday--well the actual day YES with the parties and all--but not the number attached to it. Most people dread "the big ones" and the "mid-life crisis".  People make jokes and pretend as if they can hear death knocking at your door. 

We should all look forward to getting older--everything gets better--and your memory will take care of dealing with the stuff that doesn't. In your thirties you realize how smart you are and do things because you want to do them, not because your "friends" do. Your forties bring a sense of peace that you are settled and established (or tied down by all the kids' activities). Your fifties bring on another freedom with the kids getting older and more independent (and senior discounts on all sorts of things). In your sixties you look forward to getting older because you may soon retire and reap the benefits of the last 40 years (or just a day off without playing hookie and then not doing anything cuz you're afraid someone might see you and then you'd be busted and perhaps forced to "retire" early) . Once you reach your seventies and beyond you can sit back relax and act like a kid again. You can boss people around, demand what ever you want (like both lanes on a two way highway or to be first in line for ice cream) and know ones says anything (out loud).It is finally your turn to be taken care of again.

If you are young-don't wish your life away. If you are getting older (you know who you are)-sit back and enjoy the ride. If you hear a strange "knock" at the door just call out "nobody's home".

OK, OK I'm back...and just in time.

We got home yesterday just in time to partake in the festivities.  

You've all seen me--blond hair (what??) and blue eyes, my sister pretty much the same--oh yeah her hair is really dark now (perhaps she is trying to distance herself from our roots. Get it? Roots? Maybe I was in the sun too long) and I guess her eyes are really green. Anyway we hail from the northern regions of Europe--think Scandinavian mixed with some English, German and maybe a little Irish thrown in (I knew it was in my blood).

Why then you ask am I so connected to the traditions of Mexico?  Perhaps it is related to the family vacations to the warm destination each year for spring break...maybe it's because my dad could pass for a mexican papa any day of the week (unless he opens his mouth to talk)...maybe it's the funky music or the warm beaches.

Whatever it is, it caught both my sister and me.  She got married on the beaches of Ixtapa-AND the town hall of Zihuatanejo where the Big Guy read the vows and had us all sobbing. We spent the rest of the trip playing cards by the pool and the the Big Guy (think white MN skin and no sun screen) getting the nickname Lobster Boy. Who ever lost had to drink tequila--it tasted so bad that we could barely stick our tongues in--and that's pretty bad when you are young and will drink anything!

Then when the Big Guy and I decided to make it legal, he insisted we hire a mariachi band to play during the wedding.  It didn't go with my "theme", but I thought he might leave me standing at the alter if I had said no.  Turns out their instruments were perfect for the wedding march (and they were troopers for learning it) and I am sure there are still people rolling their eyes at us.

That brings us to the last few years.  Who knew that "No Pants Day" was the first Friday in May?  It's real, look it up--I dare ya!  Well in 2006 May 5th just happened to be the first Friday in May.  I don't have to tell you that called for a party and who better to figure that out an host? None other than my BFF (I dare you to look her up too--on google that is).  Well my family is always up for something new so we arrived at the BFF's in our underware and cowboy hats!

Cinco De Mayo has never been the same. Here's to May 5, 2012--party at BFF's (I'll have to check with them, but they are always up for a good time)--hope to see you there!