An Irish Blessing on Christmas

http://www.andiesisle.com/ThisBlessingIsForYou.html

So much excitement going on!

I have to share this one because it made me laugh so hard. Karly had her first Chance to wrap gifts last night. Trying to teach the spirit of giving and not getting. She was so excited about the paper, bows and being able to use tape. It was hilarious......she got her present ready and put it under the tree. She then turned to me and said..."I hope nobody unwraps that one early, it would sure ruin our Hanukkah"

My Dad said he was just getting used to us being protestant....I guess now we are Jewish :)

Merry Christmas everyone....hope you all find some love in your heart and make it the best holiday you can.

Quinlanology

You know you're a Quinlan when...

[add in the comments]

We had the Fire Department Christmas party last night. We were told that Santa would be there and if we were good he might bring us a present. Well...Jack decided to bite Karly a couple hours before the big event so needless to say....he was walking on pins and needles to see if he would even get one. Both kids were very excited when the big man showed up. Actually this is the closest I have ever seen them to Santa....we have had years of fears of him. Anyway, Karly took her gift and was excited that he knew exactly what she wanted. Jack waited and waited and at the end of the bag, there was a gift for him, he was thrilled and figured Santa forgave the bite. On the way home Karly said, "I love my gift but I was really hoping for a bunch more.....but that's ok" I guess Scott and I forgot to mention that Santa comes to our house too and we may see a few more gifts. The minds of young people are great!

Just the Fax

It is a Sunday Morning in Pontiac Michigan. I am hanging out with my dad for the day, and we are pulling into the parking lot next to Sam’s club.
I am about to get out of the truck, when my dad says:

“Oh my god.” Look over there.”

“What, I say.”


“Dustin Hoffman just got into that mini van.”

“What would Dustin Hoffman be doing in Pontiac on a Sunday morning, getting into a crappy mini van?”


“ Well, maybe he’s buying fax paper.”

14.7 pounds per square inch

I don't remember my godfather's face for I was very young. My godmother was even more remote as I never knew her name.
Mystery godparents, but they were out there, just the same (excuse the what Hope would term 'nickel- pickle rhyme').
When J.D. asked me to be John David III's godfather, I was baffled. Strange pick I thought, why me?
Years later, my eyes were opened in a little Midland country church. Brian and Joe were singing their hearts out to Protestant hymns I had never heard before. Enthusiasm Unbound! This wasn't an ordinary event. In the pew with me, it appeared to be Godfathers, Inc singing. Now, I understand that godchildren are an extra bond to the earth and I love everyone of mine.

The Bra

The August air was humid. My clothing stuck to me like the skin of a grape-filmy and sticky.
It was my 13th Michigan summer, so the weather wasn’t unusual but always uncomfortable. I’d spent my days in between junior high grades hanging out with my friends trying to discover the newest nail polish shade or the exact amount of spray highlighter to turn my dark brown hair to a light shade of caramel. And wishing for boobs. My best friend Kim had just gotten a training bra and I desperately wanted a reason to wear a bra too. Until that point we’d done everything together, and suddenly she was taking off without me.

On one particularly quiet afternoon, where there were no invites to go to a neighbor’s pool or new books I was dying to read, Dad had called and invited me to come along while he looked at tree jobs. He picked me up as I sat on the front porch in my lavender Espirit tee shirt and matching shorts.

My dad was a tree-trimmer who owned his own business so he spent a great deal of time driving around looking at trees as free estimates had been part of his business he’d started before I was born. Riding shotgun was always a given with the big bench seat of the truck, but usually I had to share the real estate with my two brothers, but this particular Friday I had the seat all to myself.

But after sitting in the old green Chevy, for a few estimates while the smell of motor oil mixing with sawdust and stale summer air. I was antsy and wanted to go home. Dad relented and started the drive back to Milford where I lived with my mom and two brothers. Our conversation seemed to be filler at best, nothing of note comes to mind until he pulled into our cracked driveway and turned off the truck. Into the silence of the cab, he announced in a voice I was sure the next-door neighbor could hear:

“You need to get a bra.”

My cheeks got hot, and I suddenly needed a glass of water. The cab felt like a dollhouse, and I was a giant. It got even hotter in the truck and I started feeling like I was going to suffocate. I mumbled something about my mom taking me shopping soon, when I knew no such thing and began frantically shoving the manual metal door handle with the heel of my hand, it slipped a little from the sweat on my palms, but I quickly scrambled out of the Chevy and jumped to the ground with the agility of a gymnast, as opposed to my usual clumsiness that had caused me to bang my head against a closed door on more than one occasion.

My dad always called me his” little Goil.” I couldn’t believe he was telling me to get a bra. And as much as I wanted to embrace the idea that I was finally catching up to the popular cheerleader types, who had all worn bras for over a year and 7th grade would be something special because I thought maybe I’d become popular too, I’d wanted to wear a bra, but I wasn’t prepared for the rest of my life to be different. I was used to being one of the guys growing up and suddenly I was a girl?


When I woke Saturday morning, I stumbled into the living room to find my mom drinking coffee.
When she saw me, she fixed her gaze on me and announced:

“I need to measure you for a bra.”

My face got hot and I was having trouble swallowing. I thought I'd reached my embarrassment threshold the day before with my dad, but as my mom wrapped the yellow measuring tape I’d normally used as a weapon during sword fights with my brothers, the metal tape once again was unforgiving as she pressed it under the two tiny bumps that suddenly warranted everyone’s attention. Not quite sure where to look, I’d settled for straight ahead at my mom’s chest. It looked like two giant cantaloupes had landed on her front side.

That afternoon we headed off to TJ Maxx to go bra hunting, which had no glamour, no special racks. Just a huge bin full of discarded undergarments that no one wanted, A Land of Misfit Bras. After pawing through pile after pile, I settled on two-nylon bras, no bigger than a handkerchief and no wires.
One was pink and the other was beige because my mom said that beige was pracitical because it wouldn’t show through my shirt but if you couldn’t see it, why wear it?

As I modeled my new bra in the dressing room, I felt disappointed. How come I didn’t have that fold between my boobs like the women in magazines and on TV? And as soon as I put the thing on it didn’t look as if I even had any boobs so why did I need to wear this contraption?

My bra was an exciting pain in the ass. I was very aware of it rubbing, scratching and binding. It felt as if some foreign entity had landed on my chest. Much like the boobs themselves. I didn’t yet know how we fit together. After a few days, my fashion accessories were dirty. I was going to have to wash them without my brothers finding out.

I hid my new bras in a pile of dirty towels and sat watch over the washing machine like a rabid watch dog. I was afraid that if my brothers discovered them, they’d have the following conversation.

Shane: What’s this doing in here?

BJ: Want to play Mario Brothers?

Shane: Is this Kelly’s bra?

BJ: What?

Shane: Kelly. She thinks she needs a bra.

BJ: Who needs a bra?

Shane: You’re a dumb-ass BJ.


That fall I started 7th grade with the shaky adolescence confidence that I was part of something bigger. I was finally a bra wearer. Could head cheerleader be far behind? I secretly wished a boy would snap my bra. After all, handholding and bra snapping was considered a relationship in 7th grade.
If I could feel that sting from a snapped bra, I’d be a worthy girlfriend.

Turns out, my bra strap remained quiet for all of 7th grade.

In the end the huge ordeal was a very small A cup.

And it didn’t matter to anybody but me.

My first 100 days with Thump and Bump on an every day basis.

Our family is really enjoying my newly found retirement. I have adjusted well but not sure when those pension checks will be rolling in….small glitch in the plan.

I would like to share with you the top 5 things I have learned from Karly and Jack during this time we have been hanging out…..

1. Poop, pee and butt are always added and perfectly acceptable in every single conversation.
2. As I explained to my kids that ordering a happy meal every time is a waste of money and only a marketing scheme to get more money from you for a silly toy, Karly pointed out to me……Mom, the toy is FREE if you would just order the right meal.
3. Grandpa is the coolest guy around because he has a “pretend” leg. It is also a super fun game to get a cane and play amputee….who know.
4. We can figure out how to do anything as long as we read the “Burr-ections” located inside any package or product.
5. Apparently it is ok in public to let people know when they are stinky and when their teeth are dirty.
6. It is also ok to point out to boys that they should not wear pony tails or earrings (even when you yell this out across a restaurant.

Just thought I should fill you in on what I have learned. All these years I have had it way wrong!

4th Daughter

I'm not sure when Tony's going to tell us about this other child of his, but hopefully she has some great cds to add to our collection.

A separate note: Casey's in Paris!

Invisible Friends for us all

Invisible friends

I have the joy of watching Kylan my grand son twice a week. He is truly a funny kid. The other day I gave him an old pad of paper that I had given Morgan years ago; it was a Winnie the Pooh small tablet. (With Pooh and the gang photo's on the bottom.

I was making lunch and looked over at the pad, he was drawing on. I said," Oh, too bad Piglet in on the paper, I don't like him." Kylan said," Na Na, You gotta like Piglet? No, I don't Kylan I am sorry but Na Na just doesn't like him. Kylan got up set, Na Na don't say that, you gotta (Yove) Piglet. This when one for a few min then he looked me square in my eyes, with his young clear blue eyes looking just like McKenzie.
Na Na he said, " You were just sitting outside with Piglet a little while ago!"

I had no idea I had spend the afternoon with piglet, I guess, you got to watch your friends closer.

Bryanne had invisible friends also, Pumpkin, and Banana they only came out of the linen closet when she was going to the bathroom. Often they would pull her hair also, but they stayed tight for about 2 years. I have the opportunity to visit the world of make believe once again.
Perhaps there is a little invisible friends in us all.. I am sure Hope has a few friends like that, we know Brian did on his last day.. this might all just be a gift that God gives us to keep us not feeling alone.. just a thought?

Bye, honey!

One of my aunts* once told Tony that he should always tell people he loved them, in case something were to happen and they died without knowing. This, of course, would lead to many awkward pauses at the end of an otherwise great conversation (should I say it first? Will that cause him to stutter? What if we say it at the same time? Do we skip it? Does it mean less if you say it out of habit or all the time?). I, on the other hand, have a keen sense of awareness when someone loves me, without necessarily feeling a need to articulate it.

*'Ricia, I'm thinking. She has philosophical conversations like a beer drinker, minus the beer.

Bill used to call his kids "honey" to show affection, which is our new code for that old cliche'. The new order ends phone calls and emails with a "bye, honey!", which is a perfect way to tell someone you love them.

CASE DISMISSED

What up this is RC Collins

As some of you may know, I got a DUI September 11-2010 and went to jail for the second time. I got to see some of the homeboys from high school, and was able to catch them up on current events (mainly about how Obama is keepsin it real), girls, and how the price of steel reserve 211 has gone up. I then realized for the second time how I never want to be back, so I haven't drank and drove since, drank more than like 8 beers at a time, or hollered at any underage girls.

At this time Colleen had been debt free for an ENTIRE WEEK, but being the selfless humanitarian socialist patriot that she is, loaned me $2500 for the best lawyer in town. Court time rolled around so I put on my lucky court shirt and we went. After sitting in the court room nervous for what seemed about 15 minutes, the prosecuting attourney comes out LOOKIN EXTRA FINE!!!!! In my past 3 court expieiences the prosecutors were pale bald slimy looking weasles who sucked at life tryin to hate on a brother. But not this time! CASE DISMISSED!!! Im thinking because I was so nice, cooperative and polite to the cop. No probation, no court fees, no fines, NO NOTHING!!

Colleen and I then proceeded to ask no questions, and speed walked out of the court house before they had the chance to change their minds, making a swift escape in the 2006 Audi A4 2.0 turbo quattro. She then celebrated by drinking a bud light, but I politely refused because I was going to the gym or I would have.

Moral of the story is: keep it real at all times no matter what to the fullest, AND do not drink and drive.

ALSO, TONY PLEASE DO NOT SELL THE 88 GT

SIDE NOTE: SPELLING IS OFF BECAUSE I COULDN'T FIND SPELL CHECK

P.S. THANKS COLLEEN, YOUR PRETTY COOL

Brian's Fairgrove

Whamg, kachink. It was the fourth one that day. There was that whining ricochet noise and then that kachink noise as the glass insulator burst into pieces from it's false sense of eternity on the wooden fence post. The wire that used to be wrapped around it conveying electric current gone for decades. Tony and Brian were sworn to secrecy under penalty of older Brother Butch's wrath should an outsider find out. Butch carried the 22 semi automatic rifle that was to be opened in about four days on Christmas. Tony carried a carpenter hand saw and Brian carried a single blade axe with about three quarters of the handle still holding on to the rusty head. The handle was whittled down considerably where it fit into the head due to many misguided swings from well intentioned ametuers missing the mark with the head and hitting the handle instead. There was plenty of snow out in the lane that ran by the old pasture fence.

The farmhouse was still in sight and the woods beckened from ahead. They set there load down to take a break after the last successful shot from the rifle. They had no boots but instead the shoes that couldn't be considered "good" anymore by the fact that they were a couple years old. They still only came up to the ankles which isn't much comfort in two feet of snow. The socks on the hands and diapers from the current baby tied around their ears wern't much for style but were necessary. A spring jacket and two oversized shirts finished up Tony and Brian's attire for the mission and Butch found an old hunting coat that seemed to put him in first place as far as warmth.

About an hour later and two more asasinated insulators the boys found their way into the woods. The farmhouse was now out of sight which all of a sudden brought urgency to their mission. Butch was 14 years old and was probably responsible for the success of the mission. Tony was 12 and a studious kid and probably felt the load of responsibility due to Butch's cavileer attitude. Brian was 10 and the youngest and just took orders from whoever gave them and tried not to get smacked by his older brothers anymore than was necessary from day to day.

The tall trees blocked the breeze and the swirling snow in the woods. It was quiet and so surreal. There were tall evergreens interjected amongst the leafless trees which were accented by some oaks stubbornly holding on to last years dying leaves. Butch all of a sudden trades the rifle for the saw with Tony and says "you drop that gun in the snow and i'll kill ya." The statement didn't require a reply and none was given.

Butch pulled on a chord in his hunting jacket and made it long enough to tie a knot around the handle of the saw and carry it up the tree he had selected. A half hour later the top of the tree was laying on the ground. After the display of bravado about cutting the top out of the tree it became the job of Tony and Brian to drag the tree the mile up to the house. There was much resting and complaining not to mention the punches being passed down the sibling ladder but the boys and the tree finally make it home in time to beat the early December Sundown.

Hope and Bill were back from their Saturday trek into Caro to get groceries and celebrate another payday with some draught beers at a bar that the patrons had to walk down off the sidewalk to enter, aptly named the Snake Pit.
It came time for the inspection of the tree. The boys stood outside near the tree sort of looking at the ground as Bill looked the tree over. He took another drag off his cigarette and just stared at the tree. He finally exhaled the nasty smoke into the crisp air and still said nothing.

Finally after what seemed like another lifetime he got this mocking grin on his face and says "no needles." "What do you mean, no needles" asked Brian. He was glib and not afraid of asking a question if it had to be asked." A Christmas Tree has to have needles as any fool knows" says Bill." "This is a cedar tree" says Bill. "YOU gotta have needles before it's a goddam Christmas Tree" he says. So it was a failed mission and Sundays plans were on the table.

Literary Dynasty

I think Colleen, Tiffany, Carol and Tony should receive an award as best writing family ever. I am astonished by the sheer level of talent coming from that bunch. We have equally talented writers in other families but none that encompass the entire crew.

PS> Kelly, maybe BJ and I could get lessons from you to up the ante from our family??:)

Vladimir's Service Pack

Converting to Quicken last year to manage my finances had been the final step in my PC-to-Mac conversion at home, with one tiny hurdle: no one knew the password that would allow the computer to receive updates. After much discussion, Team Mac (Tony and Patrick) eagerly set to work installing a new operating system, Snow Leopard, on my iMac. Confident I was in the hands of experts, I paid no further attention to the i-chatter.

Patrick explained how he registered his own new computer under 'Vladimir Petrenko' of Moscow, Russia, then Ed-proofed it against his dad by changing his ip address, adding passwords, programs and a host of other stealth moves to prevent invasion (where was all this talent when I was married to his dad?).

At the end of the day, unfortunately, an older copy of my financial files was saved, which means I lost all records for 2010 and iPhoto didn't make the journey to the updated computer. I don't dare file a complaint...

Give that Girl a 10

10/10/10 - A special day - Susie’s birthday.

Susie and I met 45 years ago- before we were with the Quinlan boys. We’ve been accused of having addictive personalities: bowling 7 hours straight on Saturdays; volleyball and walleyball followed by bar stops; bridge games and tournaments to excess; moving each other and decorating together, and traveling whenever we could. The common factor to each escapade was lots of from-the-gut laughter.

One Quinlan memory of the "dynamic duo" was when we decided to surprise Hope on her birthday by remodeling her kitchen. At the time Hope and Bill had the chicken farm. Susie and I found some exciting wallpaper with modern, goofy-looking chickens. It was bright yellow and orange (an Irishman’s favorite color) - very cool. Of course, Susie was about 8 months pregnant so I did the majority of the work. When we were finished, elated and satisfied that we had done a great thing, we went to the bar with Hope where Susie was hit on (really made Hope and me giggle). Both Hope and Bill graciously hated the wallpaper, saying they needed sunglasses to get up in the morning. (We have matured since then and only paint rooms when the owner buys the color they want.)

Susie has a magical charm, enthusiasm for life, openness, and sensitivity to others which puts friends, family and strangers at ease. Her artistic talents are amazing and I am proud to display many of her paintings. Her artistic personality makes her a little quirky at times but, hey, that’s part of her charm.

Her greatest quality to me is being a true friend and I am grateful every day for having her in my life. If the Olympics had a "heart" contest, Susie would surely get a 10.

Have a great birthday, Susie.

Bob says: "Happy 6th Birthday Mess.be!"

Rearry? It's your 6th birthday, mess.be? Well, celebrate we will!

Feliz Navidad

[Note: I wrote and posted this entry on my blog in 2005, the first year I started it. I like to think it's still relevant, and of course, he still doesn't look his age]

My dad, Tony, sends odd greeting cards...on the wrong days...with sentiments written in Spanish (which he doesn't speak).

Mainstream has never been his forte. He was the third child of twelve born to Irish descendants living on a small farm in Michigan - seven boys and five girls, all of whom have Irish names (Shannon, Erin, etc.) - except my dad, Tony.

He was a tall, skinny kid who was usually squirrelled away in a corner, reading a library book, until his brothers found him to drag him back to reality by beating the crap out of him or throwing him off the roof. He always wanted to be a monk, surrounded by God, books, introspection and maybe an alcoholic beverage or two.

Facts and quirks:

*he had a full scholarship to Michigan State, but left after one year to hitch hike to California

*he wears a broken watch with no face from a motorcycle accident he had 35 years ago

*an insomniac, he prefers to grocery shop between 3:00 and 5:00 a.m.

*he tries to keep telemarketers on the phone by talking to them as long as possible...his record is over an hour.

*he bought and fixed up 20 old Apple GS computers to set up a computer lab in his classroom

*he's an audio/video equipment junkie - and still has Harold and Maude and The Vanishing Point on Beta tapes

*he loves music, from Hank Williams to Bob Dylan to Tori Amos

*if you touch him from behind, duck, because he will turn around swinging
he turned 60 this year and has no grey hair (of course, he does have my son for the summer, so that's likely to change).

I believe one of the biggest factors in shaping Tony's life was his stuttering. As a child, I remember making phone calls for him - he would often not be able to verbalize the "hello, is..." before the person at the other end hung up. Sometimes, he'd call back several times, hoping to get the words out, until the other person would assume it was a prankster on the other end. He is one of the most intelligent people I know, but spent close to fifteen years working at General Motors, dreaming of becoming a teacher.

He still pauses before words when he's anxious or stressed, but he went back to college at 42 and finally has that dream job teaching 5th graders. Apparently a late bloomer, he also got married last fall. Intelligent, philosophical, generous, honest, compassionate, caring and funny...I hope to be more like this old soul when I grow up.

Fun Photo Tuesday

Look at that formation!





Come on Lace, the flash won't wait forever.... ;)

The Godfather

Kook almost died,
Born to early.
Too small-that’s what everyone said.
It’s better to let go.

But Brian and Susie prayed on.
And put Joe in Charge
Of God-fathering.
Full of light and jokes,
Joe kept Kook laughing.

As the years passed, Kook got healthy
But Joe got sick.

There was still laughter and light
That was Joe’s way.
Kook couldn't’ help him.
She could only hug him.

It’s better to let go.
Tell him good-bye-

And pray that isn’t the last time,
Kook and Joe
will see eye to eye.


KRQ
11-18-08

Two Brides

Having dual citizenship in "Faceoff" and Blogger means scouring the internet for photos to steal post is that much simpler. McKenzie and Bryanne, beautiful brides this season:

Grief in Tandem

I know this is a family blog. So perhaps my stories are only supposed to be family related. I'll see what I can do: We are no stranger to grief. With such a large family comes death. An unfortunate side affect of life. Most recently my dad.

And while his death for me is one that I'll struggle with for years to come, (this isn't a cry out for an intervention, I'm o.k.) I am proud to say this past weekend, I passed another milestone. My best friend Nevada died in October 2009, of a rare brain disease called Moyamoya at 30 years old. I was devastated, and just when I turned the smallest of corners, I got drop kicked right in the face with my dad's passing.

Grieving for two people at the same time has been interesting to say the least. My dad and Nevada met only once, where Nevada was talked into putting an ad online for my dad's camper and they chatted about Detroit, where Nevada owned a house.

The thing that the two of them shared was a tell like it is kind of attitude.

On what would become our last outing before Nevada left to get brain surgery in California, I'd confided I was worried about my dad. That I felt like he was slowly trying to kill himself by not eating and drinking way too much. Nevada, who'd known me for about four years was well versed in my dad's life story pauses and says:

"Well, it looks like that's it then. I guess we know how he's decided to check out.
It's only a matter of time you know?"

Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but had she given me some speech filled with kittens and rainbows, I'd have told her she was full of shit, and she knew it.

My dad was the same way. After Nevada died, I called to tell him the news.
This time though he was having one of his more reflective days and he burst into tears, when he heard me crying on the phone. He told me I was making him cry, and then he told me that death wasn't easy, but that with time it would get easier.

He'd written to me a few days later in an email.
"The pain doesn't go away, but the wound is less jagged."

I miss our emotional connection and the way my dad was never phased about anything.

I sometimes laugh because I can picture my dad telling me:
"You know, your friend Nevada dying, kind of stole my god-damn thunder."

I like to think of it as, thunder and lightning.

Quotable

At the mere age of seven he grew tired of his birth given name, and decided he wanted everyone to call him “Flint” (this was his grandfather’s nickname on the track team). Flint had a ring to it, but not enough of a chime to carry him through middle school. Seeming a bit more established, he let go of the name Flint, and decided to go by ‘Rodney’. Always being a revolutionist of sorts, my nephew was a head of the game in so many ways. No sense walking this planet having people call you by anything other than your absolute favorite name. He was highly aware that his destiny was in his own hands. 
 (Tiffany, What'd Five Fingers Say to the Face) 

At this time Colleen had been debt free for an ENTIRE WEEK, but being the selfless humanitarian socialist patriot that she is, loaned me $2500 for the best lawyer in town. 
(Patrick, CASE DISMISSED) 

 My dad never made a fuss about it. But he did make a fuss about the presents, such as: a new wallet, complete with scrawly, hand-drawn photos of each kid. He kept the drawings in the plastic picture-sleeve for years, and whenever someone asked to see a picture of his kids, he'd whip out the pitiful self-portraits we created as kids. Cartoon kids.
(Lacy, Summer Sausage)

William T. was taking a drag off his cigarette and glancing at the floor as he inhaled. With rhetorical flourish that continued the speculative nature of our earlier conversations, I said, "What if I don't do it?" Without even looking up, he said in a supremely calm voice, "Honey, I'll dazzle you with footwork."
(Tony, Fishing Trip)

Patrick had drank a few too many and was getting a bit...umm loud...Dad leaned over and said, "Be careful not to out drink your personality."
(Kathleen, untitled)

Sixty-one years ago today Hope and Bill Quinlan welcomed yet another child into the world, Joseph William Quinlan. As Bill said to Joe years later, while he was showing off his first born, "Yeah, I was pretty excited about my first couple too."
(Sadie, A man of his word)

When he lost the strength in his legs and his balance, I asked if he was frustrated or angry that he could no longer walk and he told me, "I guess God figured I used up all my steps."
(Carol, in Larry)

Again, not much for planning, or so it seemed, my dad picked me up in Milford and suggested we go to lunch at the B-1. When we pulled up outside, the sign read, Happy Birthday Kelly Rose. As an eight year old, I thought I was famous.
(Kelly, A B1 Birthday)

Across the Quad

With two daughters, a grandson, and an ex-wife all blogging here with him, Tony is the official Godfather of Blog.

Headed out for the day, with U of M backpack to hold i-gadgets, cameras and chargers. "Say hello to my little friend..."

Sequence, studying & self-reliance

I kept waiting for the inspirational moment in which I would have a great realization about college life and my newfound independence. At that opportune moment, I would whip out my Macbook and blog about it while sounding educated and well-rounded as I sip coffee in a hip cafe. I’m almost a month in and I have had many small realizations, most of which are not blog worthy. But for $339/credit hour this is what I have come to realize:

People think you are much cooler than you are when you have a guitar in your room.

Roommates will steal your food. The next morning, you will steal their headphones.

You don’t have to wear sequence and leggings. Most nights, you probably shouldn’t.

On Friday mornings you have to yell louder than the alarm to make sure she gets up for her 8 o’clock test.

It’s never “nothing” when she stays the night in his dorm five out of seven days of the week.

We have half the same genetic makeup as a banana.

Being a football player is not a personality trait.

Suddenly, you are remorseful of the years your sister spent telling you to keep your things on your side of the room. Karma is a bitch.

Studying is essential. Making sure you study the correct chapter is even more important.

Boys know how to make you feel special to them. The trick is remembering that you are too special for them.

Staying up until two and waking a few hours later is suddenly acceptable.

Smoke breaks are a good time for socializing… and telling your roommate that your dad died from cancer.

Eye contact makes you new friends; so does remembering their name.

Your mother’s voice makes everything ok.

Punch- Punch- Punch

The Bride-

“Does Aunt Pat realize these plates are two hundred dollars a piece… and she’s going to bring along some nursing student as a “surprise” guest to my wedding” Annoyed and discontent with not knowing whose face she would see on her wedding day, she let it go. But secretly hoping that it would be A. Uncle Paul, B. Tiffany, or C. Uncle Tony. And not some yahoo-nursing student whom Aunt Pat felt could use a good party in her life.

Uncle Tiffany-

“Sweet but you wont be home uncle tiff you're going to FL!!” Time zones can be tricky, and especially when you’re in one that is calculated by the mountains it’s good to have cousins like Tamara to remind you of the state where you’ll be spending your weekend. It can be Thursday here in the Rockies, and Friday in Michigan. So you can imagine my confusion. Regardless it being Michigan, Florida, or Nashville I was hopping a plane on September 18th to celebrate a monumental day with my family.

The Bride-

“I was hoping for Uncle Paul” but the tears streaming down her face potentially ruining some of the wedding photos led me to believe she was beyond touched by the gift her aunt had given her. And that aunt, capable of bringing along some yahoo look-in to party it up in Florida delivered the next best thing ‘Uncle Tiff.

Grey Owl-

“So I heard you ditched my wedding because you owed Uncle Tony a bunch of money, and didn’t want to run into him” Laughed McKenzie. Being at Bryanne’s wedding surrounded by the people I love most in this universe, made it even more clear to me. I miss that loan shark and desperately need to spend some time with him it’d been a year and half… and who knows maybe his Quicken program found a glitch. Derailing my flight back to Denver, I found myself in Roscommon trailing behind Aunt Pat, “Tony, you here?” Startled, jolted from his nap, he looked up. I peered my little head over the couch, seeing the obvious question flash across his face… How in the hell is this girl getting back to Denver? Details are irrelevant in my book as I begin this three- week adventure with only a party dress and a pair of high heels. I have a sneaking suspicion my Aunt Pat would concur as she hopped in the passenger seat rubbing her little hands together “My work here is done."

My Dad

Hello family.

I'm really missing my dad lately, and I'm haunted, wondering if he knew I loved him.

If anyone has any good stories about my dad, please post them for me to read. And the stories, don't even have to be happy ones.

Although, I've heard the one about how he got cancer. :)

So come on. Bring on your Brian stories or memories.

Hope everyone is enjoying the start of Fall. Seems like it may be a long winter.

I'd like to say to Uncle Tony, I love the Texan Love song CD you burned for me, filled with all that Bobby Bare songs. I cry when I listen to it, but they are happy tears. Bobby Bare was a constant soundtrack in our house on Cedar Island Road.

So thank you. :) Feel free to send more anytime. I'm still searching for the song, Cowboys and Daddies by Bobby Bare. Think it is out of print.

Larry

Larry was the perfect big brother to me and I always adored him. When I was 6 and he was just shy of 10, I would follow behind him as we walked to the bus stop, imitating his form. I needed to control the natural swivel of my hips, swing my arms, take long strides and lift to the balls of my feet with each step. Perfect.

Larry had a love of nature and animals throughout his life. I will never forget Beeper, the bluebird with a broken wing that he mended in our basement and then set free. Animals returned his love. Once he came to visit with me at Susie’s. Her dog, Reese, was very old and riddled with arthritis. When Larry arrived Reese was wagging his tail and acting like a puppy, staying the entire time at Larry’s side. If Larry got up to go to the bathroom, Reese followed right behind.

Larry loved being in the wilderness, either camping, hunting or just walking. He was always soft spoken and accepted things as they are. His very presence calmed me when I was stressed. When he lost the strength in his legs and his balance, I asked if he was frustrated or angry that he could no longer walk and he told me, "I guess God figured I used up all my steps."

In August he had his first surgery and he was back in ICU with all of those wires. I watched the screen and saw his heart beat rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen level and at the bottom his respiration chart. The mimicking little sister returned – inhale to the peak, exhale, hold...inhale to the peak, exhale, hold – we were in union again.

Now he is walking ahead of me to join Star, Jack, Mom, and Dad. I can see him with a gentle smile on his face, swinging his arms, taking long strides and lifting to the balls of his feet with each step.

Fish Town

Proving a last name isn't reason to be black-balled, 2G Aunt Denise is here. Let the dancing begin!

(*these photos were stolen from Tim Hartman on Facebook)

New Bike Helmets...$40

New Training Wheels...$25.00

Watching your 3 and 4 year old chase after your 70 year old, one legged Dad on his bike....Priceless :)

Trying something new

Took a watercolor class last week. Two days and two paintings. Here they are.. Great fun to paint them.

What a wild run!

Well...today I packed up my office at good old Kaye Wood, Inc. for the last time. Between the economy and all, it was time for me to change directions. I was only 7 weeks short of 16 years....it was a great run and a fabulous job. I decided to take the kids with me today to pack it up....nice diversion from the emotional side of things. We made that last trip home and sat on the deck. Mommy of course drinking a beer and Karly and Jack drinking their Kool-aide. I looked at them both and said..."What do you think of every day being a Mommy day?" Karly looked at me very serious and said..."Oh this is not good Mom, we wanted you to go to work so we could go to Aunt Somer's house" So there you have it....I better start looking for another job :)

Kudos to Kaye Wood....it was one hell of a good time. Thanks to a woman who hired a 23 year old right out of college without a clue and literally took me around the world and back!

That third daughter.

Colleen and I have this theory that anytime the two of us are together our personalities enmesh- creating Tony's third daughter. I'm not sure her age exactly, but we know that she's not an adult. Poor Rick Collins has had to put Tony's third daughter in check a time or ten. Maybe it was the night she stole the beer he was hiding from his mother in his closet. Or that morning she was searching the house in hot magenta stilettos for her cell phone she had to hide on herself the night prior to keep from drunk dialing- or leaving jokes on Tony's answering machine at four am. (Too bad she only has that one crude beef stroganoff joke for her father's listening pleasure)

That third daughter, once she's had a few bud lights, loves to crack herself up. She has many tactics at executing this task. Wether it be collecting objects from bars to decorate her bedroom with or creating the map to middle earth for a friendly biker to make his way to the Shire. One of her favorite games is to put a twenty dollar bill into the jukebox to only pick the same Toad The Wet Sprocket song for all the other patrons to enjoy for the remainder of their evening.

I am sure Tony is sleeping a little better at night- without the 4 am offensive wake-up calls. And maybe Rick is able to make it through a spanish final knowing his beer is safe-and-sound in his closet. But I know for certain that I miss those nights of the best gut-wrenching laughs I have ever shared with another soul, impulsive tattoos, having the BEST ideas EVER, figuring out the universe in one car trip, passing out with a five pound bag of peanut m&m's between us to wake up with the chocolate evidence written across our faces, Being on the third level of a three story condo to blame "the people up-stairs" for all the noise to security. She may not be the brightest tool in the shed (she loves those sayings of cliches)- but she knows how to have a good time. Even though the other half of the equation is across the world- I hope that third daughter shows up to wish Colleen a Happy Birthday. And maybe take her out for a pecan waffle or two at the ol' house of waffles.

"Floaters in my eyes

Wake up in an hotel room
Cigarettes and lies
I am a child, it's too soon"

It's Your Birthday - Happy Birthday To You

Back in August of 1967, Tony and I put on a Dylan song and packed to go to the hospital. After 3 hours of painless labor I gave birth to my angel, Colleen. Always a serious and intense child – At age 2 I tried to get a birthday photo with chocolate cake on her face. Instead, she carefully put small pieces in her mouth making no mess at all. At age 4 she wouldn’t allow me to put her clean laundry in her dresser because she had a method of organizing and rotating her clothes. The first day of school she came home crying. When I asked what was wrong she said, "I didn’t learn to read today." A few month later she came home so proud and read to me "A Bug In A Rug." At age 7 her favorite birthday present was a set of children’s Golden Book encyclopedias she got from Grandma which she read cover to cover.

And here she is today – setting up the Herding Quinlans blog – including entertaining writing and background music with Bob Dylan! A very special daughter, mother, sister, cousin, niece and friend - I am very proud to be her mother.

Happy birthday, honey. And I hope this year brings you all the happiness you deserve. Love you from here all the way up to the sky.

Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside

I live in a quiet, (mostly) safe neighborhood with a half-acre lot, surrounded by a few homes, woods and a creek across the street. Traffic is minimal, but occasionally when driving home, I'll have a pseudo-premonition of one of my cats, bloody and run over in the middle of the street. It's traumatic, to say the least, and morbid, and makes my heart stop, wondering if/when the scenario will ever play out. I could keep them locked in the house at all times, but they're feral by nature, not special breeds that have been pampered and declawed, napping in fleece-lined beds by the window as they wait for my daily return.

One of the many topics Tony and I discussed during my recent visit (while drinking my new favorite beer, Moosehead, until 5 a.m.), was the importance of having a dream. Turns out we have a similar vision: owning a piece of property, with a barn large enough to store cats, chickens, and some tractors. The nay-sayers think it's an unrealistic, too-far-from-the-gas-station, expensive beer plan, which is probably why I've been reluctant to verbalize it.

Robert and I spent the weekend looking for puppies and farms, not necessarily in that order. I mentioned some sort of swap would be perfect: they could move into my house and keep some cats, and I'll take their home, in which they'll leave a few dogs. Robert informed me that my debt to income ratio would be great if we were married - officially, the least romantic proposal ever. (Logic is a perfect balance for my impulsivity).

My favorite of the bunch is in Newton, Alabama: 14 acres with 1 barn, 1 equipment shed, a pole barn and a 2.5 acre stocked pond. I've already started to imagine my drive home after a long day's work, sitting on the wooden swing with a beer, surrounded by rolling hills, trees, and lilies from the cabin. My blood pressure feels pounds lower!

Francis

"Remember that when you leave this earth,

you can take with you nothing that you have received -

only what you have given."

— Francis Of Assisi

A man of his word.

Sixty-one years ago today Hope and Bill Quinlan welcomed yet another child into the world, Joseph William Quinlan. As Bill said to Joe years later, while he was showing off his first born, “Yeah, I was pretty excited about my first couple too.”

My dad was more of the giving than receiving type, so birthdays weren’t much of his thing. We always got cake and ice cream of some sort and all you can eat fish with a side of cigarette ash at Jack’s.

When he got to the 55 year mark, my dad threw a bash, not to celebrate another year older, but that it was the last year he ever had to work. With jealousy my mom pouted, “I won’t ever get to retire because I was at home taking care of the kids.” I can imagine my dad’s grin as he said, “Don’t worry, I’ll break you free.”

That he did. We sold the canoe livery and he set up my mom to retire at 56, but with my dad being sick, she wasn’t sure she would be able. Then Granholm offered her an incentive package and she decided to run with it.

She got her first check from the government today,

my dad’s birthday.

The Man in the Yellow Pajamas

Today marks the first six months of my life, without my dad. I miss him terribly.
And the one thing that really hurts, is that my dad knew how lonely I felt at times, always wondering when I was going to meet somebody.

Destined to single till death, I would tell him. And he would tell me very confidently, that no. That I would find that right person, and when I did, it would be forever.

I remember clearly sitting in the hospital chair in Ann Arbor, and my dad had just defied the odds once again. He was drugged up to be sure, but he was dressed in yellow pajamas. And he asked, "Did you come here alone?"

And I said, "Yes, dad. I'm always alone. That's how I roll."

He looked out the window and I can't accurately capture in print the look on his face, but it was one of complete and utter confidence... like he was looking beyond whatever was out the window.

And he said, "It's going to happen. And he clenched his jaw, the way he used to do, when he was mad or making a point.

His face said: It's a done deal.

I miss my champion of all causes... no matter if he was fighting for me to get paid from my job at the car wash or fighting for my heart.

Here I come

Colleen is trying to get me into this century. Wish me well.

The Dead Parent Society

...regretfully welcomes another member. I will pour my mom her ceremonial beer this weekend.

Many didn't know my grandpa, but he was awesome. He wasn't the loudest in the group, but he sure was hilarious. Smiles came easy. He was generous, kind and a little bit of a badass, I'm told. He wore massive sunglasses. I will miss him dearly.

Yesterday's Painting Trip

Lucky 7/7

5 Years ago today I married the greatest human being I have ever met. We hit the ground running....the next July we had our beautiful daughter Karly. The July after that we had our little man Jack....This July, we are sticking to only BBQ's and bonfires :)

Here's to you Scottie Patchin you non facebooker, non blogging love of my life :)

48 years ago today my Mom married....well, a pretty good guy for an Irish, ex-marine, beer drinking older boy. Kidding Dad...you are the best and I love you dearly!

Happy 7-7 :)

Lonesome Whippoorwill

The silence of a falling star
Lights up a purple sky
And as I wonder where you are
I'm so lonesome I could cry
-Hank Williams

For me, blogging is a multi-sensory experience. Add audio and visual to accompany the words and I'm transported to another time and place, like Montgomery, drinking shots over Hank's grave on a Sunday afternoon.

Conversation in the back seat of my car last night between the two car seats...

Karly: Jack, talk to me...don't you like me?

Jack: Nope

Karly: Would you like me if I was wearing a dress?

Jack: Karly, I do like you, I just don't like the way you are acting.

It's like listening to yourself all over again day after day...funny stuff

Dream Shirt

Date: June 2007
Place: Downtown Las Vegas, Four Queens Casino.
Time: Middle of night. Dad is at poker machine, Kelly is at black jack table, until her presence is requested by B.Q.
BQ: Hi Kelly. Take this card. Go get yourself something.
KQ: What are you talking about, Dad.
BQ: I have all these points, go get yourself a t-shirt. In the gift shop. Go pick it out and I'll meet you there.
KQ: Heads to "gift shop" which is a glass booth full of teeshirts, mugs etc. Kelly stands around waitng.
20 minutes pass... no B.Q.
Finally KQ goes to find him... he is in the same spot at the same video poker machine.
B.Q. Hey kid. What's going on?
KQ: (mad) the shirt you insisited I get? I'm still waiting in the "gift shop."
B.Q. Oh yeah... had a good few hands, I forgot. Let's go.
KQ: Grumbling and mad now...fine.
BQ and KQ in front of booth now.
BQ. Pick this one. You like Pink.
KQ: Not really, but it's the best one.

Present day: I woke up and decided to wear my pink glittery Four Queens teeshirt.
Thanks B.Q!

It's funny what memories float to the surface as important. I now cherish the shirt that I didn't even want and the memories of my one trip to Las Vegas with my dad.

Wow....I made it in and now I'm tongue tied....Geez, I didn't think I could do it. Umm...famous advice I watched my Dad give Patrick Quinlan at the Moose family center one night after Patrick had drank a few too many and was getting a bit....umm loud....Dad leaned over and said, "Be careful not to out drink your personality" Good advice to live by for sure.

The weakest link...

And I was not!

I spent the last three days floating down the Colorado river- and landed in Utah. This entire excursion began one Friday night, at one of my favorite Irish pubs downtown. I was meeting my good friend Candice and her boyfriend and his large group of friends. Every year this crew plans what they call a "float trip" and this year- the title FT-ONE-ZERO! (float trip 2010...maybe?).

Later finding out this all started about 7 years ago- when some of them decided to take their extensive tail gating skills- and throw the Colorado river into the mix. Thus, the hybrid of tail gating for three days on a boat was born. So after Candice showing me pictures of this while we were drinking wine one night "I have no idea how I am going to handle ALL of these people I barley know all on my own"- Candice's plea to me.- Three glasses deep- "Sure- I'll go"- was my response.

Friday a week before the trip- she lands me at my favorite Irish pub- with the "float crew" (That's not a self proclaimed nickname- I gave them that one)- and a couple of beers later- I have the organizer of said event telling me- this is the trip of a lifetime. You only live once- so why not do it up. I sat for a second- and thought... well I suppose this captain is correct. And I agreed.

The only visualization my brain would allow me to come up with was that of the Ausable River. Which was completely misleading and just down right mean of my brain to lead me. You can fit wave runners on this river- and it's over 10 feet deep. The morning of the trip while us "float crew" (I am now including myself... so I suppose you can call it a self proclaimed nickname) are all congregated around the boats- Captain passes out waivers- Even though he was the one luring me in with this "trip of a lifetime" business- he is no longer responsible for my life.

FT-ONE-ZERO crew had this art down to a science. We had four groups of 6 or more- and we each had rotating duties- one night you would unload the boats, set up camp, cook dinner, wash dishes, and alternate duties everyday. I heard all these whispers of girls of past years "Oh... you remember Brittany, she would never do her share"- so out of sheer fear of being the next Brittany- I hauled ass to get all of my chores done, so I would not be talked about during FT-ONE-ONE (float trip 2011...duh)

But captain stood correct, well minus the stress of the rapids, and the duties, and people saying.."ugh- that Brittany er I mean Tiffany last year" I had worried about. This actually WAS the trip of a lifetime. I spent 3 beautiful days on the Colorado river, boating among canyons and black rocks. I had no cell phone nor purse to worry about- or even showering for that matter. I felt like I was on that show Survivor- and I had my own very team- and we had our very own team name-"It just taste so good when it hits your lips"- not the shortest of names nor the easiest to pronounce when asked- what team are you apart of ? But hey- if my team captain wanted to pay homage to his favorite line from the movie Wedding Crashers... who was Brittany to stop him?

I arrived home last night around 10:30- and took a 45 minute shower. I was covered from head to toe in dirt and bruises, which distinguishing between the two was rather difficult and not to mention painful. (UGH - that has to be dirt- scrubbing for 10 minutes- oh... must be a bruise)

Coming back to this "concrete jungle" of the city. I wanted to walk into the office this morning and say "TEAM: JUST TASTE SO GOOD WHEN IT HITS YOUR LIPS... REPORTING FOR DUTY! SIR" to my manager- but I feared the joke may be lost on him- I just replied with your typical good morning and "hot enough out there for ya".