Happy Memorial Day

We put on our red, white and blue for all of those who served, and those who continue to keep us safe.

While no one in either of our immediate families was or is in the armed forces, a number of close friends and family members have bravely served our country. So to Uncle Lavern, Uncle Bill, Carl, Mike, Uncle Beef and Alexander, we say thank you.

We're getting there

So, I don't know if I've mentioned this, but Mary Clare never says mama. Or mom. Or mommy. Or ma. In fact, she hardly says anything with an M sound to it because whoa, whoa, whoa ... we don't want the lady to think we like her or anything.

What does she say, you ask? Dada. Oh, she's got dada down pat. There is nothing we love more than to sing da's praises and trot down the hall shouting dadadadada the whole way. Hell, she even says please (peesh), thank you (shankshu), love you (uffyou) and as of today, Holly. As in my sister's dog. Who she spent one day with at my parent's house. That's right. One day.

Upon seeing my face fall when Mary Clare said "olly" in my presence, my parents hit it hard with her, and by the time I walked back into the house after packing up the car, Mary Clare did, in fact, finally say mama. And she looked at me while she said it.

I smiled. She smiled. Angels sang. And then she pocketed the $20 my dad gave her.

And that was the last mama I heard.

It's nice

It's nice.

It's nice having dinner with a good friend who is not only great, but great to your daughter. Your daughter, of course, being the child in the restaurant who pitches toys, throws unprovoked fits and screams when her hands get cold from clawing at her scoop of ice cream because she refuses to use a spoon. It's also nice to have a friend who will casually pause the conversation as you frantically try to entertain said daughter, and then later nonchalantly corral the same child as she breaks for the door.

Basically, it's nice to have an Uncle Andy.

If you don't have one, you should get one.

Hola

We are back from Mexico. We've been back since Thursday, actually, but as with anything these days, it's been full-on nutso since we returned. But the trip. The trip was awesome.

The Grand Velas Resort Riviera Maya is indeed just as spectacular as my colleagues said it would be.

Our room was ridiculous. Just ridiculous. As soon as our floor's butler concierge left us, Chip and I started giggling like little school kids. I think I may have even skipped around the room and possibly danced a jig.

We did absolutely nothing but lounge by the pool. No, seriously. Unless we were eating or sleeping, we were on one of those exact chaises you see right there from morning until night. And always with a cocktail in hand.

I did manage to take a few pictures of my own, which I will get uploaded sooner or later so you can revel in our sunburned bliss.

Adios, until I post again, amigo.

Happy Mother's Day

My mom. She's the best. THE BEST.

She is thoughtful and talented, diligent and dedicated, supportive and sensible, and, most importantly, loving. I admire her, and I aspire to be as good of a mom to Mary Clare as she is to my sister and me.

Happy mother's day, mom. I love you.

The dog filled my drawers

So, I've been publicly accused (okay, in the TB comments) by my sister of giving their dogs Hunter and Holly a bad name. Well, as much as we all love them both, even Sherri must admit that their reputation precedes them -- especially when it comes to Hunter.

As a puppy Hunter would demolish pillows in seconds, he's locked Brian out of the house several times, he ate through drywall, and he once consumed two dozen macadamia chocolate chip cookies. (I mean, what dog does that? Oh, right.) Most recently Hunter got his collar stuck on a dishwasher rack while feverishly licking a dirty dish, and in his attempt to get away, he took an entire rack of dishes with him. Upon hearing the racket made by the dishes and by Brian scolding Hunter, Brennan looked at Sherri and said, "Hunter bad. Hunter in time out."

His counterpart Holly, while sweeter in demeanor, certainly has no problems aiding and abetting her canine brother when the mood strikes. Sherri once came home from work to see that they had chewed down an entire tree and were proudly dragging it around the yard. The tree's partner suffered a similar fate the following day.

So you see, I have my reasons for making cracks about the dogs. And apparently this is not limited to me or our extended family. No, even Hunter's immediate family has turned on him. Case in point, the pre-bath conversation Sherri had with Brennan tonight.

S: Brennan, did you go poo poo in your pants?
B: No. Hunter did.

The upside of having this reputation is that Hunter has finally found his niche: scapegoat.