You can't pick your family, but you can pick Hedge Apples.

I took my parents and my sister on a little walk to pick hedge apples when they came to visit last weekend.
Before we went out into the vast wilderness to hunt for a hedge apple tree we employed a couple of super heroes. But, when they heard the word hedge and apple....
They fell down, dead. Poor, poor batmen. I guess this job calls for a bigger, heathier, braver, older and blonder superhero.
Dun-duh-dah-dah! April the strange muscle neck to the rescue!!! I'm able to leap over my tiny parents in a single bound. They really do look up to me! It's not easy being with all the little people. Uh, okay, moving on.

This is my mother. She is a gigantic goofball that has created her own language. It's a good thing I can understand her or on Saturday when she was insisting that we go see the Appalachias we would have been packing for a long journey across many states. Instead I suggested that we stay right here in Kansas and go visit the Alpaca Farm. Mom, repeat after me Al-pack-uh.Okay, Alpa-lay-shuh.
Alpaca, Alpalacia, Appalacia...it's all the same. Right?


This little guy is my dad. He's tiny. Like 5'9" tiny. He hates it when I say how little he is, because despite his small stature he's a big man. I mean look at how he man handles that wagon. He's a brute!
He was very determined to get every hedge apple off the tree. So he shook it. And that's when I wanted to start singing "Shake it like a Polaroid picture...shake it....shake it...." Note: the Country Doctor's wife came along to document the whole thing.
Here she is documenting me documenting her documenting me documenting her.....somebody stop the madness, please.

Back to Dad. Check out that shirt! I know he's tiny, but he's quite hip. He's hip Harry the hedge apple picking man.

When you ask "Why April, WHY?!" These people, they are why. I had to live with them. I can't seem to shake 'em . They keep coming back.
But, that's okay. Everybody needs to be loved by somebody. Right? But, I do wonder sometimes if I was switched at birth.The end.
For more information about hedge apples click here, apparently there is a market for these things.

Phone Conversations

Rechelle- Was she always that farty?

Me- Uh, yeah, I think so.

Rechelle- I don't remember her being that farty.

Me- You're saying farty. 

Rechelle- I know.  I like it.  Farty.

***

After this conversation Clay told me it's very difficult to talk to me on the phone when he's at his desk where other people can hear him.

Clay- Hullo.

(long pause)

Clay- How?

Clay- You couldn't get out?

Clay- Did he hurt you?

Clay- Why didn't the kids hear you screaming?

Clay- I do feel sorry for you.

Clay- Are you okay now?

Clay- No, I'm not laughing.

Clay- Bad rooster.

Clay- Bad, bad rooster.

Clay- I don't think it was the kids' fault.

Clay- Okay, okay, sorry.  

Clay- I have to go.

Clay- No....no... I do feel sorry for you.

Clay- I didn't lock you in the chicken coop.

Clay- Yes, you should go lie down.

Clay- I have to go, but it's not because I don't feel sorry for you.

Clay- Yes, you sound stricken.

Clay- The door is broken?

Clay- Is Seth fixing it?

Clay- Very bad rooster.  

Clay- I really do have to go.  But, I love you and I'm glad the rooster didn't hurt you and I know it wasn't your fault.  Because it never is......  

*****

Me- Hello.

Mom- Is this my sweet darling daughter?

Me- Hi Mom.

Mom- Your father needs to talk to you about a fund raiser for the Vurtus (which is sorta the name of my kids' school but not quite and I've given up trying to get her to pronounce it correctly.)  So here he is......HARRY!  April's on the phone!   She wants to talk to you about your bike ride!

Dad- Hello?

Me- Hi Dad.  

Dad- Hi.

Me- So, you want to talk to me about a fund raising bike ride?

Dad- Uh-huh.

Mom- Harry!  Tell her about the presentation!

Dad- What presentation?

Mom- People will want to see a presentation!

Dad- Why?  I don't want to do a presentation.  That's what April is going to do.

Me- I'm going to do a presentation?  To who?  When?  What?

Dad- I just want to ride the bike.  

Mom- You are going to have to take the bike and make the presentation!  People won't understand what you're trying to do for the Vurtus!

Dad- Martha!  You don't know the first thing about biking people!  They don't need to see a presentation!

Mom- Harry!  I'm not talking about the biking people!  I'm talking about the Vurtus people!

Dad- That's what April's going to do.  She can do that.

Me- Uh.  

Mom- You can not make April explain your biking to Vurtus!

Me- Er.

Dad- Oh for crying out loud!

Me- Okay.  I think you both have some sort of weird and obscure valid point that someone in the cosmos is going to understand, but I'm going to get off the phone now.  Good talking to you both.  Love ya.....

Mom- Oh,  well, okay Honey.  Good grief, your father is so stubborn!  Now line up those babies all in a row and give them a big hug and kiss for me. 

My Parents in a NUTSHELL!

Oh, no. What have I done?

I was trying to find a photo of me that would describe to you all how humbled I am that so many of you have wandered over here to say a few words to me. But, then.....well, I got sidetracked. Kinda like when you start cleaning out your storage room and you start finding all kinds of wonderful treasures that you forgot you had.

I found these two videos of Mom and Dad. They're reading my Christmas letter. Their reaction is a perfect, spot-on description of their personalities.

Guess who I take after?

I once had a dog that was emancipated.

Language.  It's something we all use.  Some of us use it better than others.  Some of us disregard well founded grammar rules.  Pronunciation and definitions are meaningless dribble.  Some of us are far to creative or, dare I say, lazy to use words properly.  Some of us like to make up our own vocabulary and expect everyone to comprehend our violent slaughter of the English language.   

I, myself suffer violent bouts of language slaughter, mostly after a visit with my beloved parents.  Usually, it's my mom that makes up words.  Like last week she told me that a lady in her church was at home suffering from 'epa-plasia'.  I hadn't heard of this 'epa-plasia', but I thought that the old lady must be on her death bed for sure.  Later, I figured out it was a young woman in her third tri-mester that had preeclampsia.  There is no way in hell Mom will ever be able to remember the word preeclampsia or be able to pronounce it, so from now on if a lady is suffering from the dreaded preeclamsia it will forever be known as epa-plasia.

A few weeks ago my dad and I were sitting in the parking lot of the local custard joint enjoying our frozen treats and watching a couple walking their Standard Poodle.  Dad and I admired the dog and reminisced about our own Standard Poodle, Thunder, that had been our family pet when I was growing up.  Then, it happened,  Dad innocently threw out this wing-dinger.....

"Yeah, poor Thunder, he sure did get emancipated in his old age."

What?  Thunder was emancipated?  From what?  "Dad?  I think you mean emaciated."  

"What?  Emanciated?"

"No, e-ma-ciated."

"Oh.  Well, I guess he was both."

Mom and Dad also say these words: End-dustry, Choir-practor, Eye-talion and my favorite Warshington.

Thanks Mom and Dad.  I needed something to write about today.  I love you best.

Your Favorite and Prettiest Daughter, 

April

puzzled?

I have an uncle that's a hillbilly. Seriously. He lives out in the middle of nowhere on a hill. He and his wife came to Thanksgiving this year. Uncle Hillbilly is the baby brother of my mom. He's eleven years younger than my mom, the same age difference between my daughter and her baby brother. This little fact causes my mom to say things like,"Poor Ellen, I know just how she feels having to take care of her baby brother while her mom is sick and not able to cope with life."   Then I have to remind my mom that I'm quite healthy and Ellen is at school all day, not caring for anyone. Still, every time I ask Ellen to do something for her little brother when Mom is around they give each other a knowing glance that will forever bond them together as "The Oldest Children Deprived of Happiness."
Uncle Hillbilly has defeated death 8.95 times.  He's a ticking time bomb.  He's been in three horrible automobile accidents, he's had cancer in which he had a kidney removed, he's broken countless bones and he's been in the army.  Any of these incidents would have been the demise of a less stellar human being. 
His little, itty-bitty, blond headed, wife is a hoot.  Her choice of vehicle is a Harley Davidson with a side car painted bright pink.....I mean Pink Panther Pink.  She used to live in my town and is an avid auction attendee.  She told me of a town not far from here with a large Amish community that has a weekly auction.  Every Tuesday morning they auction baked goods, produce, eggs, livestock, farm equipment, quilts and apparently a lot of stuff that I should not be living without, so I'll be making that trip sometime soon, I hope.  

Now, about the puzzle.  Charles Wysocki has been my choice of puzzle art for the past several years.  I buy them at Target every winter and the puzzles I choose usually have an old town scene.  We love to have a puzzle going whenever my folks are visiting during the holidays.  It's fun for everyone to go sit, talk and put a puzzle together.  Often we find ourselves fighting over who gets to do the barn or the cute house or the horses.  Sometimes my little boy will walk off with a piece that will cause us to search the table endlessly for something that is actually wedged between the couch cushions.  My kids always want to place the last piece.  This year I had to count to three, several times before they would place their piece in to finish the gall-darn puzzle.  They were so afraid that they wouldn't get to put them in at the same time, so they kept faking to put the pieces in.  Then I had to count to ten so I wouldn't bash their heads together.  Okay, the part when I said it's fun, forget that, putting a puzzle together is an exercise in self-control.  

Doncha wish you could hear me talk?

My mom invents and mispronounces words. I inherited this and I've noticed my daughter starting to do the same.

The other day my daughter was remarking on the hot-cross buns we were eating and said, "These taste like that Marty Grass cake". I turned and said, "Mom? Is that you? Oh, no it's Ellen. Sweetie, it's pronounced Mardi Gras."

I have trouble with words like hill and sill, they come out sounding like heel and seal. I say rueen instead of ruin. I broke my habit of saying warsh and Warshington when I went to college. I still end many sentences with a preposition and I'll never remember if it should be farther or further or affect or effect. Yes, I homeschool. So? My kids don't stand a chance, poor things.

My mom has given us some great one-liners that we use all the time. She ends every phone conversation with, "Now, line up those kids and give them a big hug and kiss!" I like to say this to my husband when he's at work except I say, "Now, line up your co-workers and give them a big hug and kiss!" and, off the subject, but worthy of sharing, if he tells me he has to work late or will be taking a business trip or isn't getting to work on the job he wants then I say, "Put Dave on the phone, let me see what I can do." Dave is his boss.

Another simple, but effective, um, affective, um, errr, where's the dictionary? (Never mind, my best solution is to just avoid words I can't comprehend.) Another great one liner we use is simply yelling, "Harry!" except you have to emphasize the first syllable so it sounds like, "Haaaa-ree!" Harry, is my dad. When mom can't get him to shut-up or agree with her, then she simply screams his name. It's mighty effec, affect, uh, um, well, it works really well. My husband and I use this when we're frustrated beyond comprehension at each other, especially when he is driving and not using my keen sense of direction to guide him where he needs to go.

If mom can't remember a name she just calls them Ole Whatchajigger. There are so many people named Ole Whatchajigger, that I have a hard time keeping them straight, but apparently I know all of them, "You know him, oh, it's Ole Whatchajigger, he lives just down the road from us." That usually makes it crystal clear.

I'm going to use my mom as a character in a book someday. I might have to wait until after she passes, which I hope is not for a long while, because I'm still collecting material from her and I can't make this stuff up.