Be Thankful For The Good People

I hope this finds that everyone had a pleasant and relaxing Mother's Day weekend!  This does includes sisters, aunties, cousins, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, great aunts, and friends who are family (we apologize for sucking you into our quagmire of crazy looney toons)!

My family spent the weekend helping my mother-in-law move into her new digs.   It is roughly two and half hours one way.  She has alot of stuff for one person!  It was back breaking work for sure, but that is what you do for family.  There may be moments where you just want to blankly stare at them, pretend like you have no idea as to what they are talking about and fake some life threatening ailment (like a sprained pinky toe) that would prevent you from being able to take part in whatever it is they are trying to lasso you into.

And it made me think for a moment, actually quite a bit longer, on how soo many people are forgotten by their own family.  I just shake my head when it is considered a burden to keep ties with those who have been good to you.  My sister and I used to go to a nursing home when we were kids that was near our house and just hang out with the residents.  Soo many are forgotten - they are just a guaranteed monthly government check to the family.  Horrible.  We've witnessed that first hand in our own family unfortunately.  By the time my sister and I found out what was going on, we had no legal grounds to step in and change the situation.  Being in New York with said family in Wisconsin, our ability to monitor what was going on was limited.  Upon a visit to Wisconsin is when the situation came to light.

Now, having said that, there are those that it is necessary to keep at an extreme distance because they are pure toxic.  Sad, but there is no avoiding truth when it is punching you in the face with brass knuckles coated in broken glass.  Every family has someone who is cancer to the soul.  Physical, emotional, and mental well-being goes right out the window in their presence.  Actually, your well-being would probably jump out of a plane without a parachute just to get away (while flipping you off for putting it in that position of desperation).  We, however, have a couple of those.  It's an affliction I wish these multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical conglomerates would make a pill for - I would sell all of my yarn for one of those.  As previously said, it was hard for us to monitor what was happening 900 miles away but had never been given reason to disbelieve our family.  However, we came to find out that a family member who lived four blocks from us in New York knew exactly what was going on from the very beginning and chose not to say anything because she knew we would have jumped the next flight out for a beatdown.  She was more concerned about the sperm burping gutter snakes in Wisconsin liking her than the deplorable condition that had been forced upon the very woman who raised her when her own mother threw her out as a child.  And continued to support her throughout her adult life.  Rundown - our two uncles placed our grandmother in a state run facility, sold her house out from under her and rarely, if ever, visited her.  There were pictures of the two of them above her single sized bed in a room she shared with another resident (these are not meant to be double occupancy) and shared a Jack & Jill bathroom with the two other residents (again, in a room that is meant for single occupancy).  The place reaked.  We would regularly call our grandmother's home phone.  How is this possible you ask?  The dead festering rhino scrotum uncles used a forwarding service.  So when we would call, thinking she was at home, it was a phone ringing next to her bed in an 7' x 5' space.  She suffered from dementia and was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's (which we were never told).  She also had suffered a pearl of mini strokes (which we were never told).  She had started to say she was scared to tell my uncles she was talking to my sister or I.  A few other conversations threw up red flags for us so I was able to drive out to see her.  I'm standing on the porch of her home and it looks abandoned.  I call her and she says she's in bed and is afraid to get out.  I try to coax her downstairs to unlock the door.  She says she is not in bed at home.  So I call my uncle and reveal that I am standing on her front porch and where is my grandmother.  Silence.  Surprise asshole.  That is when I found out where she was.  She had been in that facility for over a year and was too afraid to tell my sister and I.  Do you know that a nurse in that facility knew exactly who I was looking for without ever exchanging a word because I look that much like my grandmother. Upon looking in her "room", not one photo of her eldest son, my father, who had passed away.  She was in the dining area and couldn't remember me.  That's when I found out she had Alzheimer's.  She couldn't remember who my uncles were but knew exactly who my father was, then it clicked.  Then she remembered me and my sister.  See how karma works you malfunctioning colostomy bags.  Dump your hard working, unconditional loving mother in a shitbox, you don't exist either.  So the nurse and I had a nice chat.  And she stuck around for my conversations with both of those immoral fecal slugs.  So if you are a ratted bag of crusty hobo balloon knots, karma will not be kind to you, nor will I.  We have not spoken to them since the funeral of my grandmother nor will we ever.  They are deceased.

As for the New York family member who knew all this, she is the worst raging case of the herps in medical history.  She never goes away, ever.  And we have been rather blunt in our conveyance of our feelings towards her - no great mystery.  And sadly, this was not the worst of her offenses against her family, including towards her children.  Parasites have a greater moral center.  Satan is soap-boxing in the fiery bowels of hell shaking his head, flabbergasted, spouting how morally repugnant she is.  One of the last things I said to her was that I found it extremely offensive and rather selfish that she was stealing my oxygen to feed the lungs held captive in the Bastille she punishes her overworked joints into wobbling around.      

So please, I implore you; if you have had someone special be good to you, be good to them.  It doesn't take a whole lot of effort.  If you have two hours to spare to play around on Facebook or Clash of Clans or Twitter or Tumblr or Snapchat or the millions of other apps, you have five minutes to sign your name to a card and drop it in a mailbox.  Not that kind of person?  Send them an ecard.  Send them a smiley emoji.  Come on people - communication has become soo much easier yet no one seems to know how to communicate.  

Spring Is Here So Summer Is Not Too Far Behind!

Just love, love, love the sound of spring peepers as the sun starts to set!  Because that means it is warming up and going to stay that way for awhile!  Yay!  But that also means it is almost time for the WEBS annual tent sale in Massachusetts.  Double yay!

For any fiber lover or spinner, this is heaven on earth.  Our Graceland.  The Vatican of fiber. The Royal Family reunion.  You name it, this is it.  WEBS is a great online source for all things yummy. It may be all sticks and string but ooooooooooo do we love the string!  Cashmere, baby alpaca, merino wool, angora, kid mohair, silk, milk fiber, bamboo viscose; the list could go on and on and on...and on, and on, and on.  And what makes it great for me (Karen) this year is that I am finally going to be able to experience this breathtaking, choir of angels softly singing above me, sunbeams lighting the glorious path to "Ahh-Aaahhhh".

I encourage anyone who is a fiber addict, like my sister and I, have a fiber addict in their family, or if you just have a general morbid curiosity as to who all these odd crazy people are squeezing skeins of yarn like they are checking the ripeness of a tomato.  Trust me, one squeeze of some baby alpaca, you're gonna be running around knocking people over squeezing, touching, feeling, rubbing on your cheek (hopefully face), and emphatically sounding off the Campbell's "mm-mmm-good!" slogan over and over again.  You get hooked (crochet pun - haha) from the first time your gently glide your finger over a soft hazy pillow of superfine kid mohair.  It's like being wrapped up into a burrito made from big white puffy clouds lined with angel feathers.

If anything, come and watch the loonies get all starry eyed over something the size of lemon that costs more than a nice dinner for two.  But my thought is, who needs dinner?

Just A Lil Tidbit Of Info...

So my poor husband had to have three teeth pulled today - all molars.  Yee-ouch!  The first few hours right after were miserable but he is doing much better now.  Yay! Hopefully tomorrow won't sneak up on him and smack him in the mouth.

As his dutiful and loving (and rather awesome, if I do say so myself) wife, I took him to and from the dentist, then left to go have his scripts filled.  Now I have a very short, actually non-existent fuse for people who text and drive.  I've had a lady run a red light and just by a hair miss hitting my daughter and I, a guy would have hit me head on had I not blown my horn and he over corrected and skidded off the road.  Cannot count to the nth degree how many times I've been behind someone who goes from 50 to 25 to 60 to 15 MPH in a matter of one mile because they're busy twiddling their phone.  It can wait people. Seriously.  But lawmakers have put in place misdemeanor statutes for those who are ticketed by the police for being physically unable to remove their hand from their phone while driving.  I am thankful to the police officers who go out everyday, put their lives at risk to keep my family and I safe.   

However, my respect for those who uphold the law plummets when they are the ones busy twiddling their phones and almost hit me head on, such as in today whilst being a stellar wife en route to the pharmacy for my pain ridden husband.  How did I know it was a police officer you ask?  I got a real good look at his uniform in his marked vehicle when it was crossing over the center line coming directly at me while he was texting or tweeting or posting, really don't care, on his phone.  I honked my horn and laid on the brakes.  Had I not, he would have smashed into my front end.

So how do you ticket a cop for texting on his phone while driving in his marked unit in uniform?  Sadly, not the first that I have seen.  I am no perfect angel.  I do stupid things. But I do turn on that nifty little thing every phone has, driving mode.  You text me while I am driving, you get an auto response.  When I get to my destination, then I respond.  If there are people in your life who cannot wait that extra 5-10 minutes for you to safely respond, need to rethink who it is you are responding to and the importance of it all. Just saying.  

I still hold a high level of respect for EMT's, officers, firefighters and civil servants of all kinds.  That respect, however, wanes considerably when you are doing the very thing you have no problem ticketing others for doing, yet come very close to hitting someone head on for doing that very thing you are supposed to thwart.  Do as I say and not as I do might have worked when I was a wee lass but it sure doesn't float now.  

Back In Action!

So, it has been awhile since there has been any type of news dish from one of us. Apologies.  We weren't ignoring you, I promise!  We have been filling our every waking moment to launch our newborn store on Etsy while maintaining our Black Sheep Sisters shoppe.  Whew!

Take a gander and tell us what you think!  We are trying very hard to keep everything functional but cost effective.  Babies can destroy pretty much anything in the blink of an eye, so the third generation handmade blanket is now for Fido.  Our items are meant to take all the abuse a baby can dish out - the 3 P's - pee, poop, and puke - and dirt, and mud, and juice, and lots and lots of drool.

Even then, babies are ever so cute!!  Saccharin sweetness to the brim!!  Eeepp!!

Just follow the link...

http://www.littlelambkinsboutique.com

But we are back to the blog.  Lots to do, never ending with the lots to do!  Especially since I am unsure about going outside.  So far today it started out snowing, then sleet, then warmed twenty degrees and sunny.  An hour later it started raining, hard.  Now I am watching super fluffy downy snowflakes flit to the ground.  Welcome to the spring in the Midwest!

Well, That Was A Lil' Different

This past weekend the hubs and I went to visit a family friend.  Actually, brother by another mother.  He lives on the Lake James chain in the northeast corner of Indiana.  Home of 110 natural lakes, with Lake James being one of the most visited.  Our brother we were staying with lives on Jimmerson Lake.  It's awesome!  During the summer we tool out on the pontoon and spend all day out on the lake.  Love! It! Awesome! Awesome! Awesome!  (Did I mention that it is awesome?)  One of the main destinations is the sandbar.  It's right off the beach from Pokagon State Park and the backside of the inn. You anchor your boat in the middle of the lake and walk around.  It's like a park picnic but in the water.  There are several boats that set up shop with yummy drinks and food vendors.  Nothing like a brat and some yummy fruity drink standing in the water at a table!

Obviously we cannot do that in February with close to three feet of ice and 14" of snow on top of that.  But I was still standing, right where we normally anchor the boat.  As a matter of fact, I stood all over several of the lakes on Saturday.  Before we left, my husband told me everything would be fine, not to worry, and I would have fun.  We went snowmobiling for hours (and woo-wee are my muscles feeling it now!)  The majority of time was snowmobiling on the lakes.  That was a new experience for me.  Never been trail riding either.  Yeah, deep pitched hills going downward was a little unexpected.  And other riders everywhere!  It was like crosstown traffic.  One right after the other.

Was okay on the first lake, snowmobile tracks just everywhere, until we went through an area of heavy slush.  My freak-o-meter needle went into the deep red.  Visions flashing through my head of falling into a hole and drowning.  I look like the Michelin tire man in my gear, with a helmet.  And did I mention that my snowmobile is light weight?  So when hitting those patches that snowmobile goes where it wants to go and I just have to hold on because my hundred pound ass is not going to change its mind on which way to go.  Never spun around but my track lines were more like the path of a gin drunk than a straight parallel plane.  My thigh muscles got a wicked workout from death gripping the seat.

Then we get to Lake James.  Near the channel where Lake James and Jimmerson Lake connect, the Fire & Ice Festival was happening.  On the lake.  There's a bonfire, a small skating rink for the kids with little people hockey goals.  Eventually they couldn't play hockey anymore because a big ole dopey chocolate lab kept snatching up the puck and running towards the middle of the lake with it.  That was funny.  Other kids were building snowmen.

They had a beer tent and music playing.  And when we arrived a small plane had just taken off but three others were still parked.  Two more came in for a landing and another had taken off by the time we left.  (This particular area has a couple few well-to-do's living there but you wouldn't know it looking at them - no one flaunts it).  Ran into a few people that we know and chatted.  Met some new people too.  Ended up being invited to a bonfire by a couple we had just met.  Very nice people.

Aerial shot courtesy of the Potawatomi Snowmobile Club 

We left from there and rode for another hour or so and decided to stop for a bite to eat.  No restaurants in the middle of the lake.  Nope.  Instead we go straight to Dave's Lake Shack.  Ride right off the lake and into the side parking lot.  They have a shelving unit right inside their door for your snowmobile helmet.  Love the food there.  And the ladies that work there are super sweet.  So had some good eats and a tasty libation.  Bellies full, we headed back out for another hour or so until sunset.  Then sitting right in the middle of Snow Lake, we watched the sun set.  Vibrant pinks, oranges and yellows.  That was beautiful.  Just beautiful.  And most everyone had gone home so it was pretty quiet.

We were out riding for a over five hours.  I 'parked' my snowmobile in a snowbank.  Couldn't quite make the turn onto the concrete pad in front of our brother's barn.  My husband jut started laughing and gave me a high five.  Next to the snowbank was our trailer.  At the front, my husband welded a crate style box for the gas cans.  When he tried to 'unpark' my spectacular-on-purpose job, it wouldn't start.  I had run out of gas, four feet from the gas cans.  I meant to do that, well because, let's face it, I am just one stellar individual. :p

As nerve wracking as some of the riding was, mainly huge slush areas on the lakes and having to travel short distances on roadways, I did have fun.  I am not by any means a winter person (shocker, I know) but my husband is.  He truly enjoys all things winter so I gave it a try for the hubs.  I'm glad I did.  Sometimes I guess he does know what he is talking about.

Camel Fleas

 

This happened to me today:

 

 

 

I go outside to get my son off of the bus from a half-day of school.  A shitbox car pulls up behind the bus.  I'm navigating my way over a plow pile at the end of my drive and this douche bag honks his horn at me.  Seriously?

Generally, I do not curse in front of my children.  Especially my five year old.  He's both autistic and a wonderful mimic.  As the passenger MANUALLY ROLLS DOWN HER WINDOW and screams at me to 'hurry the f**k up you stupid c**t!!'  I forgot my usual rule.

The bus driver put the bus in park and gets out with her phone already recording.  I went to the driver's side and she went to the passenger's side.  I pulled out my phone and hit 'record' while the aide on the bus has stepped out to do the same.

I asked the lovely moron behind the wheel if he had anything else to say...?  This dumb ass screams his reply, "I know where you live, bitch!!"  And then a really long and colorful description of EXACTLY  how he'll kill me ensues.  I asked him, "Why waste time?  Get your bitch ass out of the car right now and I'll beat you stupid in front of your ugly woman."  At this point, the woman went to jump out of the car and the bus driver smashed the door back into her and snatched her head full of greazy hair right through the window.  Douche bag put his car in reverse and hit the gas with his woman's hair still in the driver's hand.

Twenty minutes ago, a cop showed up at my door.  I showed him the video I took and the videos that the others sent to me.  He just shook his head and said "Douche bag about covers it, huh, ma'am?"

Gotta love life in NY.

I'm going to knit now - I need a little bit of ZEN.

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1:59 PM

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People are sooo inconsiderate in every possible situation. I'm sure that wherever they were going was sooo much more important than you safely retrieving your son from the bus. ‹headdesk› #ohthehumanity  

2:02 PM

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I think you deserve a drink! Thank goodness you thought to record it.
Will you be pressing charges for death threats? Maybe get a restraining order? In that way he can't go down your road again

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Big hug +Dori ONeal 

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hugs!!  Definitely need some zen knitting.  Some people....

 

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Omfg! I'm glad you recorded it all. YouTube! Jesus. Please have a drink and a knit. Man Oh man. 

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That's ridiculous! 

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I try to sympathize most of the time. Circumstances may have been terrible for them. But sometimes there is just NO EXCUSE. AT ALL. Holy wow.

Dori ONeal

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You're right.  I know my description of this couple is significantly less than flattering, or even unbiased.  I try not to wish ugly on people because I don't want ugly back.  But, I would love it if he came down with an enormous infestation of camel fleas on his junk.  Not lethal, just karmic. 

Surrounded By Muggles In The Wizarding World Of Fiber

This evening was the live broadcast of Stephen & Steven Mixed Tape Tour...loved it!  They are the professors in the wizarding world of fiber arts.  The textures and color matching that they come up with is nothing short of splendifferous!  Magical!  Delectably scrumptious!  It is a good thing that fiber is not ice cream; you would have to roll me out the door like Violet everyday.  But in listening to them both, it did remind me of how small the fiber community really is.  Not just knit and crochet junkies, but spinners and weavers and dyers.

I was at the doctor's office earlier today and brought my knitting.  I check-in, sit down, and start knitting.  Every time I do that you'd think I had four heads and tentacles coming out of my ass.  Is it really necessary for, "Look at that woman over there.  What is she doing?  Should we be worried?" while you are elbowing someone in their ribs and pointing with your muggle finger?  I've actually had someone ask me to stop knitting because they found it offensive.  Seriously?  I find it highly offensive that you actually leave the house and punish society with your presence but I at least have the decency to let you be as some things just can't be fixed.  So I just warmly smiled, plainly and calmly said "Bite me" and proceeded with my knitting.

But then you do have people who are just curious and ask questions.  I love it when a kid comes up and is all starry eyed with wonder.  That is awesome.  That gives me hope that not all muggles are ignorant knuckle dragging primates, just the direct descendants of the Dursleys.

Rather than learning Klingon, I think my next response to a feces flinging howler monkey will be to recite a pattern.

  

But again, I do have hope.  Knit and crochet fashion is coming back.  I recently received my copy of Harper's Bazaar and saw knit items.  I cringed while turning pages at times seeing that God awful 70's pants suit is making a comeback.  With the pukey colors in grotesque patterns too.  I've survived that already, I'm not sure I can do it again.  But there was a lot of inspiration in those pages too. Wonderful texture and vibrant colors paired with subtle earth tones.

Big Thank You to West & Be for their time today!  As well as Yarn Mountain and Patrick Lyddy! (And I love the name of their tour.  I remember my aluminum foil antenna on our little radio that when you heard your fave song on the station, you had to hurry up and press record/play at the same time, remain absolutely quiet and hope that damn dj wouldn't screw up the song by talking at the beginning or end)

And to all my fellow wizard folk who perform magic with sticks and string... 

I sooo need to find me one of these!

2015 - The Year of the Stash Bust

If you're an avid crafter - of just about any type of craft - then, you'll know all about the STASH.  Your stash is all of your supplies - all the little (and big) things you've collected over time that aid you in your craft.

For those of us that love the fiber arts - your stash can often grow to be more than just your essential supplies.  To be fair, I only need a single pair of knitting needles, or a single hook to knit or crochet at will.  As long as there's some string around - I can make something.  But, I don't have just a single set of needles - or a single hook and a single ball of string.  Instead, I have lots and lots and lots of each.

Because I've got sooooo much fiber, in all those lovely colors and types and weights, it means that I'm utilizing quite a bit of space to store them.  As I can only work on one project at a time - that means that there's an awful lot of pretty string around here waiting it's turn to be transformed into something fabulous.

So, in an effort to get to each of those lovely colors and fibers in turn, I've made a resolution for the year of 2015:  I will not purchase a single skein of dyed yarn.  (it hurts a little bit to even type that...)

If I have a project that is just screaming to be made, and I don't have a color that is jumping for joy because IT gets to be that fabulous project - then I will just have to dye my own fiber to suit the project in question.  If that doesn't work, I'll have to move on to another project that's screaming for a turn - there are plenty. :)

This means that for the entire year of 2015, I will be working 90% of the time from yarn that I already have and maybe 10% of the time from yarn that I will dye on a project-specific basis.  There is only one exception to this rule of the 2015 Stash Bust - the WEBS Tent Sale.  For the Tent Sale, all bets are off.  I'm trying to be a good girl, but, let's not get ridiculous here.

In any event, it's now the 17th of January, 2015 and I haven't purchased a single, little tiny piece of beautifully colored string - not a single skein, hank or cake of yarn has been brought into the house by me.  (My lovely, amazing, completely ROCKING sister sent me some beautiful yarns and that is going to have to hold me over until the Tent Sale.  THANK YOU, KAREN!!!!)

We'll see if I can keep to this Resolution.  I'm at about a 50/50 split right now - half of me really wants to do this Stash Bust and the other half of me is ready to go surfing and see just what is on sale at Knit Picks right now...

Must, resist the pretty...

Never Lose Your Sense of Humor

In reading my sister's prior post, which we were total Daddy's Girls, it brought up memories of winter time when we were kids.  We lived exactly one mile from our elementary school.  According to the school board, we lived on the wrong side of the street to get bussed to school.  We grew up on a corner and a very busy one at that.  So Dori and I had to walk to school and it was uphill, both ways.  I remember walking to school and having to say this to my teacher:

I looked like Randy from "A Christmas Story".  I did fall in a huge pile of snow once, measurable by the foot, and could not move.  I was stuck.  For real.  It was a Laurel and Hardy routine when Dori had to come pull me up.  We were in elementary school for Pete's sake.  Think we are tiny now? Thumbelina was a giant compared to us but we made it through each year.  But that wasn't as funny when we would jump off the little league dugouts into the super deep snow.  Oh wait...that's right...I didn't jump...my sister flung me off into the snow, face first.  Isn't childhood grand?  Especially when you're the youngest sibling and your older sibling is forced to take care of you?  Actually, I was a stinker for a sister and deserved several of the whompings I received.  That instance, however, not so much.

But through the years of living in the north, it becomes an "Eh, whatever" with winter.  So many a time I find myself rolling in laughter at those who live down south who only see snow when watching "It's A Wonderful Life".  Shut down an entire city for a dusting that melts within hours.  Funny stuff.  

It's even funnier when you see someone from the south driving up here in the winter for the first time, as long as you are not on the road with them.  But the funniest isn't the driving, it's when you have to get out of your car and walk across what you just barely traversed in your vehicle.  Grown men crab walking on their tiptoes to make it to the front door, priceless.  But even those who are old hats in driving during the winter are void of all sense of reason sometimes.

But there are ways of knowing who grew up in the north and who are transplants.  I hate the winter, this is more than true, but having been through soo many, you know how to prepare and roll with the punches.  For example, a new northerner...

Lifelong northerner would be stocked to the eyeballs by mid-August

We get a ton of those here in the Chicago area.  Stocked up on salt by mid-July.  I've had it snow on my birthday and leave a foot.  I was born in mid-April, my husband late April, still snowing.

Grilling happens all year around, period.  Shovel a path to the grill if needs be.  The choice of food to be grilled may vary slightly from above, but the thought has run through many minds.  Sorry Phil.

But through it all, one must never lose their sense of humor.  Winter can be lots of fun and it's a blast watching the kids go sledding, snowboarding, fort-building-trash-talking-snowball-fights, making igloos/dugouts from the 9-10 foot tall snowdrifts, snow angels, and the classic snowman. Growing up, we loved reading Calvin & Hobbes.  Love Calvin.  Here's a homage to the little boy that makes us remember how cool it really was being a kid.

And to those who haven't lost their sense of humor in adulthood, you rock.  We have a lot of front yardage, I think we can come up with something good...

Snowman on snowman violence...why can't we all just get along?

Frosty my ass...wwhoooo-aaahhhh

I wonder if this is Gulliver's twin in a parallel dimension

Henry didn't quite catch on as to what would happen if he lost the bet with Barry and Wendall

Answers that question

Being a major fan of Halo, this is nothing short of kick-ass

My all time favorite land animal

But no matter what you do to pass the time during the snow laden winters, always remember to never lose your sense of humor.  And always have a good stock of alcohol.

Daddy's Girl

Even though this post is completely going to date me (and poor Karen, too), I'm going to plow ahead anyway.  I'm a child of the 70's.  Born in 1971 (which puts me at 44), I graduated high school in 1990.  Go, Bulldogs!!

I wasn't lucky enough to have hippy-dippy parents, though.  Nope, no wandering the countryside with stoned-out loons for this kid.  (And by the time Karen came along, in 1976, things were rolling into the 80's and the hippy-dippy-parent dream was dead.)  Our dad was a chef.  A chef who combat-served with the 82nd Airborne, and more** in Vietnam.  All my life, I remember people coming up to Dad - really, really excited - and begging for his autograph.  Everywhere we went they thought he was Jerry Garcia.  No matter how he changed his look - the requests would come.  Eventually, he gave up trying to explain that he was not the famed Garcia and instead just gave them his autograph.  His OWN, that is.  Lots and lots of people walked away with a quickly scrawled, 'all the best, Dan the Man'.  Seriously used to crack us up to no end.  But, as he was a Dead fan, I don't think he actually minded much. ;p

I've been thinking quite a lot about my Dad lately.  Having grown up a tried-and-true Daddy's Girl, I truly enjoy watching the same bond between my daughters and husband.  All three of my girls are Daddy's Girls.  They truly adore that man.  So, I just wanted to take a moment to acknowledge all the Dads out there and all the Daddy's Girls.  Love him lots while you have him, girls, and be sure to pick a man that will adore YOUR baby girls just as much.  I did and it's a blessing.

Thanks, Daddy. I love you!


**our dad spent time in Special Forces - he entered a PVT, left a PVT and his jacket only states TDY for the entire time in-between with no destination or designation assigned**