So Taboo

Being home is always fun for me. I love this city, and the great time my family has together. Wonder where I get the sass from? Its in the DNA.

Case in point:

Our family loves playing Taboo. We wish it was an Olympic sport. Do you know Taboo? Basically, a word guessing game. You have a word on top of the card, and five words below it that you can not say any part of in your attempt to get your team to guess. You have one minute to get your team through as many cards as possible.

In the pic above, yearbook is the word you want your team to guess. The other team gets the buzzer, off you go. And of course, we also have the electronic version. Game-playing-nerdios.

My older brother and I think we are unbeatable with our spectacular vernacular. But everyone in our family loves to play and it is no holds barred.

Example A: On a previous visit home, after dinner and vino, we are playing Taboo with about eight people. My older brother, TumbleWeed (named so for his constant and nonstop traveling for work) is giving clues to my Mom, my little brother (HiPie), and a friend of ours. He is yelling out clues and finally says, "This is what JennyMac is!!!! This is what JennyMac is!!!"

My mom then shouts out with glee like one of Rudolph's reindeer mates: FLAT.

Wait a minute. Did my Mom just say I am flat? I mean, I am but is that how this family is giving clues?

My brother cracks up. He is laughing SO hard he can not finish his round. OOOOPS Mr. LaughyTaffy, times up. The word he wanted her to guess? ATTORNEY.

The word not to be guessed: flat

Example B: My Mom and my Father have been divorced for a long time. His house in WA is a mile away from hers so we see him often when we are home. He is a fierce game player. I believe I was taught cribbage at age six. He stopped over one night and we invited him to play. He declined but said he would listen in.

I am giving clues to my Mom and various others. I am describing a word like this:

thin, small, most people have them, very handy, in your wallet.

My Father who is NOT playing says: CONDOMS!

The word I wanted my team to guess: Credit cards.

The word I did not want them to guess: Condoms.

Guess who I did not want to hear shouting condoms about what my Mom has in her wallet? My Father. Her ex-husband for decades so ditto for her.

See what I mean? It is genetic coding.

What happens in Seattle, stays in Seattle

What happens in Seattle stays in Seattle.

Unless your wife starts a blog, and then, well, best of luck shielding your antics from the world.
Greetings from the Emerald City. Ahhh. My stomping grounds. It is a tremendously good feeling to be in my hometown where we will enjoy the next 9 days.


This is a photo I took a few years ago from one of the many parks in the city. Picture perfect, I'd say.


This is my first bi-coastal blogging. While I am cramming in as many family/friends/fun things as possible, I am a Black Belt in Multi-tasking. Even my amazing Aunt who is 70+ years old asked, "You will still be posting to your blog while you are here, right?"


Oui.


And I would miss you all too much to not "see" you for a week. And I was on a wee bit of withdrawal yesterday because I had zero time with all the traveling to read any blogs. My comments will be lighter this next week, but I will be popping in and out when I can. And I am off to Starbucks soon to pick up the gift card I will bestow upon someone tomorrow!


Tonight, is the kick off of my three-day 20 year high school reunion. One of my friends asked if I was joking, before adding, even Truman Capote knew when to draw the line.


I have kept in great touch with friends from childhood and look so forward to seeing them.


I am also speaking at tomorrow night's formal fete. I promise I won't start off with ....this one time, at band camp. I will mostly make mockery of our hideous hair, sassy large fringe scarves we wore, and of course, our inability to properly break dance.


While I am at the "OMG..do you remember when..." fest tonight sans spouses, my Husband has the option of going out with my little brother.


Days ago, while I chatted with my little brother, HiPie, regarding plans for our visit, one of said plans includes JohnnyMac staying at their house to catch an early tee time one morning. JohnnyMac said that staying at their house will certainly assure he is not in bed early, and not in any shape to play golf early in the am. HiPie swore restraint and good behavior.


I said, oh, that's a precious little lie.


Let me explain.


Two years ago, during a summer visit, we enjoyed a dinner out with HiPie, The RevDoc (my BIL) and some other friends. The boys order the drinks. And keep ordering drinks. Everyone appears oh so very thirsty. After a luxurious 2 hour dinner, we went to a joint that plays karoaoke. Warm it up Chris? I'm about to....


Of course, very soon, our friend CapitolHill and I are doing a perfect job singing Push It. I can't get enough of the yo yo yo yo baby pop.


Some girls get up and sing Bon Jovi. JohnnyMac is a fan of Bon Jovi. He follows them only to bop around behind them like a back up dancer. Not really a back up dancer...more like a highly springy toy bobbing up and down with his hands in the air. Not hands in the air Ludacris style either. His hands in the air was a bit more stick 'em up style.


And my Hub doesn't dance. This should have been a warning sign.


Later, as I am getting ready to sing my favorite Janis Joplin song, Me and Bobby McGee, JohnnyMac hears someone singing Poison. He then proceeds to begin a wobbly ascent up on top of a table to dance. Ummmm, time out on the field. I knew he had to be w-a-s-t-e-d to even attempt such an act.


I then spy him saunter over to the bar with our pals as shots are being purchased and consumed. Oh, this is going to end poorly, I think. I then recognize JohnnyMac's sloppy face. I see it rarely, but when I do, I pay attention. HiPie and I leave him at the bar to go fetch a cab and my parting words to our friends:


"Free neutering for the next one who buys him a shot."


We get in the cab, and aww, night night JohnnyMac. We arrive at my little brother's and JohnnyMac just can't quite wake up. Ever hoisted a full grown man dipped in wasted and rolled in sleepy out of a cab? Oh, its big fun.


The next morning, he wakes up hangover free, because he happens to have DNA that repels hangovers. I did happily show him the pics of him "sleeping" in the cab. Or, as I like to call it "passed out." And he passed out with one eye open which makes for awesome photographs. Arrgghhhh....Of course, as soon as I see HiPie, who was the conductor of that train, I ask him WTF happened with the sudden crazy booze blanket JohnnyMac got wrapped in. And I meant prior to shots being served. His response, "Oh, we had been ordering him doubles all night. Is that wrong?"


If it was wrong, apparently JohnnyMac wanted not to be right. And I did get a small preview of his dance move arsenal, which he has yet to live down.


Hence his statement that going out with my little brother will not improve either his odds of getting up on time for early golf OR his actual golf game.


And why I don't believe any of those innocent little promises my little brother wants to make.


But, then again, it could be me who is a spinning disco ball of wasted come shut eye time tonight so I better not throw stones. But at least I will have my fabulous dance moves. And even if I get a bit sideways tonight with my old friends, my secrets are safe because my husband doesn't write a blog.

Homeward bound

We leave tonight for one of my favorite cities: Seattle. And one of my favorite places on earth: home. Where I grew up and where my entire family and many friends still reside. I can't wait to see them, although, once you have a baby, and he is the first grandson on both sides of the family, you are so second tier.

Here is an example:

Me: Hi. We will be home on Thursday night at 7.

Everyone in Seattle I love either connected to me by DNA or friendship: OH! We can hardly wait to see you and JohnnyMac your little man. (Also known as the Little Prince of Georgia).

Me: And we can't wait to see you.

Everyone: Oh you'll be here? Awesome! I have a little something for you our favorite person in your family. I found a present/new toy/new pjs/new jeans/a baseball glove/an electric guitar/a car/a pony that he JUST had to have.

Me: And I hope you have cocktails for the adults at this party.

Thankfully I am bringing my laptop because while my family is so busy fighting over who gets to spend the most time with me playing with our son, I will be blogging from the West Coast.

But our little man is awesome. He is both charming and smart. Here is why everyone who has ever known me would now rather spend time with our two year old:

Last week, our Little Man was playing on his drumset before we left for school. (Merci, to my older brotehr for such a super quiet toy). I told Little Man we had to go.
He said, "I'm just playing the beat, Mommy. "

I applauded his efforts and told him we still needed to leave.
He said, "No Mommy, I just need to play the beat. I have a song in my soul."

A song in my soul? Our son is TWO. Technically, 2. 5. My eyes actually welled up a bit and I wanted to tell him he was a FCKING ROCK STAR but that is not appropriate AT ALL so I settled for giving him a big hug.

He moved me.

And it reminded me of one of my birthday gifts last month. This gift was all my son's idea.

This is when you feel overwhelmed with love for another person, especially when that person is part of you.

Precious boy.

And yes, Little Man, you do have a song in your soul. And I love that you are so loved.