If you know anything about me (which, lets face it, you don’t. This is a fairly new blog.) You know I am a huge NY GIANTS fan. Like HUGE. Like I will be loyal to my team till the day I die. Even last season when they sucked, I was loyal till the Super Bowl. Now, I live in Seattle. Seahawks went to the Super Bowl. So for just that one game I was a Seahawks fan. But just for that day. And, had it been a GIANTS and Seahawks Super Bowl, I would have went for my boys. Big Blue Baby!!

My love for the NY GIANTS came from my dad. He is also a huge fan. Growing up, watching him watch the GIANTS game on Sundays after church, well, it just stuck with me. Now, I am not about to give away my age (and if I did, it would most likely be a lie) but let us just say I have been a serious GIANTS fan for the past 19 years or so.

Now, imagine my surprise when in the mail today I received a shirt from my dad. The parents are downsizing, and he is sending me all his GIANTS memorabilia. Do you know what was written on this particular shirt? A message to my dad from LEONARD MARSHALL (he played for the GIANTS for about 10 seasons) I am all like “What the hell?!?! Is this real???” I texted my dad “IS THAT REALLY LEONARD MARSHALL’S AUTOGRAPH?? ADDRESSED TO YOU?????”

“Yes, glad you like it!”

Clearly I needed a further explanation. Like a how and a when did this happen??? So I texted my dad just that.

Well, apparently years ago my FATHER played golf with Leonard Marshall AND Phil Simms. (former quarterback for the GIANTS for fourteen years) and then WENT TO DINNER with them, for some work thing.

“They are the nicest guys, real down to earth”


“You were not a fan back then”

“Okay, but for the past NINETEEN YEARS I HAVE BEEN!”

So yeah.

If you are not a fan of football, you wont “get it” but if you are a fan, you will totally get why it was I had the biggest smile on my face when I saw the shirt, and found out that dad played golf with them and then went to dinner!

Wow, you really never stop learning about your parents. Always stories to be told.

I texted my dad to ask if I could post about it on Facebook.

He has yet to respond.

So I decided to blog about it instead.

* This post was inspired by Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop. “Something that made you smile”

Go check her out.


My 13 yr old son got caught stealing at the mall.

The Husband and I just sat down to dinner. My cell phone rang. I actually debated whether I should answer it or not. Knowing my son was at the mall with his friends I figured I should. You know, in case of an emergency or anything.

“Hello, Jennifer?”


“This is Officer Riley down at The Commons, I have your son here at Kohls. Him and his friends we caught stealing and we need someone to come pick him up.”

I really do not remember what I said other than “ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!?!?!”

Officer Riley was not kidding.

The Husband leaves to go pick up our son, and I pour a double vodka. I mean clearly there has to be some reasonable explanation for this, right? Maybe they had the wrong kid? Yeah right, Officer Riley called my cell. Of course he did not have the wrong kid.

I spent the next half hour wondering where it was that I went wrong? How could my kid make such a stupid choice? I mean yes, he has made bad choices before. Like wearing red skinny jeans, but nothing like this. Why? It’s my fault. It has to be my fault, I am the mother. It is always the mothers fault.

Finally, they come home. The Husband is quiet. Which always means he is angry. My son decides to go straight to his room.

Oh heck no!!

“You better turn around and tell me everything, everything! Right now, I want an explanation.”

Do you want to know what he said to me? Oh, you will love it. “Gosh Mom, you just do not understand me. You think you understand me but you don’t”

Typical 13 yr old. They get caught doing something terribly wrong, and turn it around.

Whatever. This is not my first rodeo. Thanks to my 20 yr old son, I do have some kind of practice, although I have to admit stealing is a first for me.

After I calmed down, and by “calmed down” I mean another double vodka. We talked. All of us had a good talk. Did anything get resolved? Time will tell. Since the incident, which was only three weeks ago by the way, things have been better. He no longer has a phone, and he no longer has a life. School and home until he proves himself.


Bottom line, somewhere along the way the was some kind of misunderstanding going on.

Perhaps I misunderstood the pressure of being a 13 yr old boy?

Perhaps my son misunderstood  in no way shape or form will I put up with stealing.

Perhaps I misunderstood some signs along the way.

Or, perhaps we as a family misunderstood each other.

* This post was inspired by the one and only Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop.


Miss Ellie

I met Miss Ellie about three years ago at my local grocery store. While debating in front of the coffee creamers “Should I get peppermint mocha or be good and get the sugar free vanilla?” Miss Ellie approached me out of no where.  “You want to know something?” Startled, I turned around, not quite sure knowing what to expect. There she was, the tiny elderly lady who I will quickly get to know as Miss Ellie.  She had on a straw hat. A rather large straw hat that covered her mostly  grey bob.  Blue overalls and a flannel shirt completed what I would call her “Farm Girl” look. I do not live in farm country. I live in a suburb of Seattle. So, this was strange.

I probably hesitated a little too long before I cautiously replied “Me?”

Miss Ellie grabbed my arm and some what guided me back to my cart which was maybe only two feet in front of me. “Look here, you see your pocketbook? Let me tell you a secret, you need to buckle it in with these here straps that you use to buckle up a little one.  Because any ole hoodlum can come and just snatch up your pocketbook and you would never know because you are looking at them coffee creamer. That stuff is bad for you anyway, drink your coffee black.”

For some reason I felt the need to apologize to Miss Ellie. “Yes mam, you make a very good point, buckle my purse in and black coffee, thank you for your advice.”

A pleased Miss Ellie say goodbye with a “Well, alright then, have a good day, and next time I see you in here, buckle up your pocketbook.”

Miss Ellie did have a point. I am so careless at times, I never pay attention to where may purse is. Makes mental not to buckle my purse in.

As time went on, I would see Miss Ellie once every two months or so for the next three years. She not only did her pocketbook  routine with me, but with every other female shopper who was alone in the store. It got to the point where every time I saw her coming, or shall I say every time I saw her straw hat coming, I would quickly try to buckle in my purse so she would not lecture me.

She still always lectured me.

I saw Miss Ellie today. Probably the first time in about five months. Today was slightly different. I had a return to do, so I headed straight towards the return desk. Miss Ellie had just finished up her purchase at the register, and as soon as she saw me, and I saw the straw hat, I knew there was no time to buckle in my purse. “Miss Ellie, I was just about to buckle my purse in when I saw you.”

Miss Ellie is no fool. “Let me tell you something, I have been around for a very long time, do not lie to me. You were as close to buckling your pocketbook in as I was to go buy me one of them skimpy swimsuits. Now buckle your pocket book while I watch.”

Damn, Miss Ellie is tough!

We chatted for a few minutes, and then she gave me some coupons she had no use for. Specifically V8 and adult diapers.

I had no use for them either, and was almost wondering if I should be insulted, and then Miss Ellie grabbed my arm. “Let me tell you something. Ya know I was in here the other day. I told some lady everything I have told you. Buckle your pocketbook in so no hoodlums will run off with it. You know what she told me? She told me “I do not need your advice” So I told her don’t come cry to me when a hoodlum steals your pocketbook. I know most people see me as a crazy old lady but I know how those hoodlums are. You go on and finish your shopping. You’re a good one. You always talk to me.”

And then she quickly scurried off, wiping her eyes with her handkerchief.

I do not know Miss Ellie’s story. I do not know if she has a family or if she is all alone. A cashier told me she believes Miss Ellie lives in an assisted living home, but who knows. What I do know about her is she is a very sweet lady. Tough, but sweet. So if any of you three people who may be reading this happen to come in contact with your own Miss Ellie, well, good luck to you.


*This blog post was part of mama Kat’s Writers Workshop.  A blog post inspired by the word “sweet”








Public Speaking

When I was a little girl, up till my mid 20’s, I was shy. No just your typical “shy girl” shy, more like, ” Okay, what the heck is wrong with this girl who will not talk?”

It is not as if I had some kind of traumatic experience that stole my voice or anything. I was just wired that way. I was afraid to talk to anyone and everyone. The cashier at the grocery store, the mechanic, the faceless voice over the phone who would always call trying to sell me something. I was abnormally shy.

When I was about 15, my dad took me to a local high school where Montel Williams was speaking. A few important facts,

* I am not sure how my dads job and Montel Williams’  somehow incorporated and brought us together that brisk fall day at a high school that I did not even attend in Virginia Beach, VA…….but it did.

* My dad introduced me to Montel Williams, I stumbled out a “hello” shook his hand, begrudgingly, and that was it.

* Montel Williams was speaking about the dangers of drugs.

* My parents thought I was doing drugs.

* I was not doing drugs.

So now that you are up to speed, I will proceed.

During the assembly with our new friend Montel, there was a part in there where he called a few students up to the stage to ask us questions about drugs. I clearly remember his eyes on me as I am scooting down in my seat, pretending I dropped my purse begging and pleading with God for him to not call my name. I even promised  I will go to church for the rest of my life, I will marry a pastor just please do not call my name. 

He called my name.

Just shoot me now!

I slowly and awkwardly made my way to the stage, even though I was sitting in the front row. I gave my dad “the look.” Hoping that he would get a clue that the last thing I want to do right now is go on stage. My dad sat there with a big ole smile on his face that I interpreted one of two ways.

“Go on Jen, this will be fun.”


“Haha sucker, this is what you get for doing drugs.”

If you know my dad, he was most likely thinking the latter.

As soon as I get to the stage, Montel throws the microphone in my face and asks “What’s your name?”

I froze. And by froze I mean I stepped away from the microphone, looked down, made no eye contact and with the faintest of whispers, replied with “Jennifer.”

Montel sent me back to my seat, probably believing I was indeed on drugs.

I will say this, this experience drove me to wanting to do drugs. And, I really do not think anyone would have blamed me if I had done drugs, but I remained a good girl and never did drugs.

However, I did have my first kid at 19, so there’s that.

A few months after THE INCIDENT, my father wrote a play for the teens to do at church. To this day, I have no idea how this happened, but I was the lead, and, if I do say so myself, I totally rocked it. I loved being up on stage “acting.” I never felt more alive. I was also good at it, like seriously good at it.

Today, if the same incident were to happen, not only would I be able to go up to Montel, confidently taking the microphone, telling him my name and entire life story. He would be lucky if he got the mic back.

Funny how times change.

I never got into the acting thing, because I was doing the whole mom thing.

Now a days I am one of those people who holds up the line at the grocery store while chatting with the cashier. The car mechanics, I put them in their place real quick if I feel they are taking advantage of me, and the Montel Williams incident is long in the past,

but I never did watch his show,

nor will I.


* This post was inspired by Mama Kat’s Writers Workshop. Just click the link below if you want to join in.