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!