1972

Thanks to a visit from the handyman (and his – ahem – assistant),

the Ford Casa has officially cruised into 1972.

Yes, that’s right – we are rocking a ginormous antenna. Because that’s what you do when you live in the woods – where even satellite dishes don’t get the job done – and are genuinely to your wits end with the CW & PBS just puttered out on you much to your toddlers disapproval.  Yes, we are the proud new watchers, blip-free I might add, of ABC, CBS, & NBC.

Praise be.

No worries – we still get all the vampires, 90210, and Tyra Banks anyone could ever possibly wish for. Whoopee…

And in celebration of our new technology, Noah and I watched Saturday morning cartoons – sort of. The news shows were still on the main channels when we started so we had to watch 6.2 – usually the country music station – where we found Gina D’s Kid Club. If you haven’t seen it, it’s… interesting. Let’s just sum it up by saying there is a man, dressed as an old lady, and her name is Momma.

Anyway.

There was a segment about smiling – I think the parent channel is big on smiling, go figure – and there was a cartoon character a little on the heavy side and not the most attractive girl, intentional of course. The point was for the “cool kid” to smile at her to make her more attractive – because if she smiles she’s pretty inside and out. Blah, blah, blah…

So what does Noah say when the little girl was on the screen?

“hippa-pah-mih-muss?”

Oh dear…he’s cute enough to just let that one go, right?

To his defense, we’ve watched a lot of Madagascar lately…

One.One

In the spirit of the monthly blogs I used to do way back when Noah was still a baby, I thought I would continue on the tradition with a little twist. As it is December already (Father Time, slow your role) I am clearly way behind, but better late than never, right?

So here’s how it will go – on the 2nd of each month (or darn near close) I will post a photo or two of my favorite moment of that previous month. I am sure everyone is scratching their noggins trying to figure how in the world I will choose just one, and believe me, it will be tough, but I will search deep within to come up with something grand.

And THEN, it’s your job to come up with a fun caption for the photo – and leave it here in a comment.

So let’s start with October, shall we?

 

Lumberjack & Monkey

And because rules are meant to be broken, here’s one more:

The daddy & his boy...

That’s a whole lot of cuteness in one place.

And there’s plenty more where that came from…

Cabin Fever

Here at Casa de Ford we get a little something called Cabin Fever.

It’s highly contagious with symptoms of cranky pants, fussy faces, and pains in your – well, everywhere.

The cure?

Get the heck out of dodge before the steam bellows out of your ears.

And so we did just that yesterday. Most folks will likely scratch their heads at the thought that we ventured off of camp property to have some outside peace, but your backyard is your backyard – sometimes you need to hop the fence. We hopped about two miles down the road to the little playground at the Methodist Church – but made sure we vacated before they made us stay for Wednesday night church.

We weren’t sure how Noah would like or interact with the play things considering he’s just now taking steps on his own, but I’ll let you decide: 

In the spirit of Abigail: “Nunnels!”

The BIG slide with daddy…
Look, mama is on the slide and in front of the camera…
Rare.
And for obvious reasons, this one is my favorite.

So the park – it’s good for our feverish souls. I just hope winter holds off a little longer – like until next December.

Goodbyes

I don’t like goodbyes. Frankly, they stink.
But if this was the routine I got every time I had to participate, well, I might leave more often:

Sorry for the fuzziness,
a moving target is a tough specimen.

Let me narrate, from top left to bottom right:

  1. This is the chasing face – him chasing you, you chasing him, him chasing his shadow. This one in particular was Chris chasing him to tell him bye-bye this morning – though we see it morning, noon, and night. And I love it. I mean, who wouldn’t?
  2. Blowing kisses – despite the grimace – it’s a kiss. Complete with the tiny smacking noise.
  3. (and 4) Bye-Bye! See his little mouth, he’s saying it, too! So funny.

Most times when Chris leaves Noah will stand at the screen door once he’s realized he’s gone and say “dah-dee buh-bye” over and over again. Makes my heart fill with pride and googly-goop. You know the stuff.

Come see us – you might just get this song and dance. And if you don’t, well, you’ll just have to come back.

Wet Behind the Ears

Literally and figuratively.

I made sure to do my research on the origins of “wet behind the ears” as to not offend anyone or group of people. As a southern-grown kid I think I probably throw around a lot of phrases and old addages that if their origins were to be traced I would likely be calling someone’s mama fat or their kids unintelligent. And we don’t want that, so I turned to my dear friend, Google, and this is what he had to say (sidenote: I made sure to put the phrase into parantheses for fear of what obscene things would potentially surface if not…just a google tip, free of charge.):

Meaning: Naive

Origin: The allusion is to the inexperience of a baby, so recently born as to still be wet.

The phrase was in circulation in the USA as early as the twentieth century – twenty years before it was first recorded elsewhere. The converse of the phrase – “dry back of the ears” – was also known in the USA from around the same date. [Taken from www.phrases.org]

So there you have it. Now you know when I am refering to my father-in-law as “wet behind the ears” I am not insulting his intelligence or questioning his mother’s gerth, just calling him naive. And that’s acceptable, right?

In this case it will have to be. Because the phrase is punny. You will see.

Bruce-ski (Ha, that’s funny, too…just wait.) came to stay with us the last week of camp to help Chris in closing down for the summer. Chris put him to work with installing the remainder of the disc golf holes which is more involved than one would think. Digging holes, trimming trees, filling said holes with cement, hauling the cement to where it needs to go, building baskets, cleaning up… all in 100+ heat index. Yuck. He is from Florida, but so am I, and I hate to be hot and sweaty. I don’t hate getting hot and sweaty, just being.

After a long day slaving away, it’s only right to relax with water of some sort – in this situation, boating sports to be precise. If you’ve been reading all along since we started this blog last year (thanks, moms) you know that Chris was a novice at skiing last summer and now he can’t be stopped. I, if I do say so myself, have caught up to his ability after having to sit out last year being with child and all (I still don’t see why skiing isn’t an OB-approved activity). We’ve gone from two skis, to one (Chris only), to surfing the wake behind the boat… pretty fancy for a couple of Florida kids who have either rarely or never been pulled behind a boat.

Well, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree (there I go with my sayings again), right?

Half right.

Bruce-ski (now you see the humor?) could not recall a time in his –ahem- more than half a century ever having skied. How is this possible? Two Florida boys and neither one can remember a point in their youth having participated in boating sports? Unacceptable. This must be changed. Pronto.

And so we did. Change it, that is, though slightly beyond his yesteryears of youth, and potentially a minor heart palpatation for his other half – if she knew before it happened. We didn’t let her in on it until we were all back on dry land, safe and sound, everyone in tact – minus a little pride for some of us.

I won’t say that he dazzled us with the natural (and sickening) athletic ability that his son possesses, but by golly, he had a blast trying. And I think he would do it again, maybe even in a bathing suit – he jumped in with his pleated Casual Friday khaki shorts on. It took him a few tries to stand up, and granted he is trying surfing before skiing so we will have a slight bit of mercy, but the Cheshire Cat grin from ear to ear when he held on and rode for a mighty ten seconds said it all. Determination and persistence this man o’ the cloth doth he not lack.

He looked pretty good doing it, too, if only for brief moments.

And figuratively, he is no longer “wet behind the ears”. Literally – well, you will have to judge for yourself:

Gearing up and getting “learned” on the board.

Not the start he hoped for.

A little friendly advice from the younger generation.Look at him go…10..9..8..7..6..

5..4..3..2..1.. So not the ending he imagined either.
But ten seconds of glory, nonetheless.
Apparently our internet has decided to take a break, photos will be added at a later time.

Oh the joys of living in the sticks – where the cows come home on the range, the rooster crows at dawn, and Comcast doesn’t reach.