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".

Karly & Jack

Yogi Bear camping trip and putt-putt course.

Crazy Heart

Sometimes you can suggest a movie. Others, you might strongly recommend. And once in a while? You have to buy it, mail it, and say "T-Bone Burnett produced this, watch it!"

Summer Sausage

I like the idea of a family blog, even though I am not particularly good at writing in my own blog. But, I don't mind another distraction from the cubicle-world in which I live.

I spent last weekend, including Father's Day, with many of you - and it was lovely. I don't feel particularly sad about Father's Day. My dad never made a fuss about it. But he did make a fuss about the presents, such as:

* The Happy Shirt. He wore it a lot. Too much, really. * 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.

* Multiple Chia Pets, which, to our dismay, never grew any hair under our care. However, after spending a few mysterious weeks at his work, the Chia Pet would always return with a head full of hair, boxed with Easter grass and plastic eggs. A miracle!

* Summer sausage and cheese from the the Hickory Farm stand in the mall. When in doubt, this was my go-to Dad gift.

A New Medium

Since Colleen graciously allowed me on this website I feel that I must say something profound but alas, I am sitting here simplistic.

Oh, well.

I usually paint with brushes rather than words. My brain is feeling taxed - I believe chocolate is the answer. Off to eat candy and plan tomorrow's blog.

More details @ 11.

After Uncle Vern died, I went to see my brother Mike as they were extremely close. As I'm talking to Mike at the Mooseclub with all of his great stories, I spot the opening for a cliche. "Then he was like a second father to you?" The moment the words tumbled from my mouth, I knew they couldn't be true. "Au Contraire, like a big brother." Absolutely no need for a surrogate father when William T., farmer-fighter, held the reins.

A B1 Birthday

I'm not a attention monger. So, it's weird to announce even in a family blog, that today is my birthday. I feel a decade older than I did last year. Probably because I lost of of my best friends in October and my dad in January. I don't feel like doing a whole lot of celebrating, but I am also trying to find the joy in the friends and family I have left.

Two birthday memories from growing up stick out.

1. Not much for planning, my dad rarely had birthday gifts purchased and wrapped the days before. On my I'm guessing 9th or 10th birthday, my dad took me on a shopping spree at K-Mart. We went up and down every aisle, and he let me pick things, I'd never get at home. Whoppers in a carton, Cap'n Crunch cereal, Dr. Schoals red buckled clogs that were the rage that year. The best part, was that every time I picked up an item, I'd ask, "Can I get this one Daddy?" He'd smile and say, "Throw it in the cart."

2. My other memory involves the Bachelors One in Keego. 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.

Thank you for all you did, Dad. A man I once proclaimed, "Daddy, I know you're name.
When he asked, "What is it? I said Daddy Quinlan."

Generation Gap

Uncle Vern died at the end of May in a motorcycle accident while returning from a music festival in Missouri. This trip was in addition to perhaps 750,000 miles of other cycle trips in which he and his wife Eileen visited all lower forty eight states. Devastated by Eileen's death several years ago, partial therapy for him was the purchase of a more powerful motorcycle to hit the road again. Linda, his daughter, said in the eulogy that her dad was the last of the farmer-cowboys.

Vern was an incredible person in many ways, but perhaps singular in one. He was in his mid-eighties and lived to the end T.S. Eliot's notion that old men should be explorers. His youthful spirit will be forever missed.

Somewhere in Texas

A Gaggle, then.

Geographically removed, I've attempted family-type group blogs in the past. The result has been minimal participation on their part; frustration on mine. I seem to be the only one interested in such a communal experience. Oh, sure, Facebook fits the bill, but my dad Tony believes it's an online dating site and won't join.

My wise cousin Kelly has told me it's like herding cats...that which makes Quinlans unique, also makes us inclined not to participate in organized group activities.

This is all well and good, except Tony keeps misplacing his password to his own Blogger account. Here ya' go, Buck. This one's for you.