Saturday, October 17, 2009

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Thank you, Aunt Mia!

Here are some pictures of the plane that we made with your birthday present to Sam.  He calls it his "plane gun," because everything is a gun. Just in case you were wondering, the costume that he is wearing is The Thing.




And here is a special message from The Thing himself:




Kisses!

Friday, September 25, 2009

The Greatest Show on Bryn Mawr

When I was about 10 years old, Katie Elmendorf and I used to dream of being circus performers. One reason that we used to use your backyard for our “big top” was that Alex loved to play along with our dream. The other reason was that Sable absolutely loved to play along even more.

I don’t remember if Sable was a he or a she, but I think it was a she, so that’s what I’m going to run with. When we would come around the corner with miscellaneous things that we thought would help us with the circus training (ski poles, rain boots, hula hoops, juggling materials), she would go nuts. I remember that she used to in under a little overhang that is probably somewhere under your current master bathroom.

I’d juggle, Katie would toss things at Sable to catch in her mouth and Alex would waddle around doing God knows what. We’d do that for hours. It was ridiculous, but it was so much fun.

I remember Sable ran away and I was crushed. I know that you guys were, too. For about 2 or 3 months I would search the nursery every weekend. When we’d drive to Pizza Hut, Brentwood Bowl, or wherever else I’d stare out the window looking for her.

The next summer I think I started to grow up and stop playing circus. I don’t even think that I thought about it. I was likely learning to play doctor with Katie…

However, for that one summer, you’re backyard was my dream world.

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Haiku 1

spots on MRI
they don't know with whom they mess
strongest chick ever

Sunday, September 20, 2009

A story from my childhood...

Maria,
You had the second coolest car of my childhood.

Tommy Ritter wins with his Trans-Am Firebird. When he used to roar down the street to pick up Teresa, I thought that he was the coolest thing in the history of the world. He probably was...and may still be.





I believe that you had a 1980s Dodge Charger hatchback. I could be wrong, but it looked a lot like this picture. I used to see you drive by me almost every day that I walked home from the bus stop at the G.E. Maier Building. I used to hate that walk home because no one else on Bryn Mawr or Parkview took the bus.  I only took the bus because I thought that would be the best way to help me become cool. It didn't work.




On one particular day, when I was in the third or fouth grade, I had to go Number 2 so badly when I got off the bus. I begged the Reece boys (Joe and Tony) to let me use their bathroom.  They lived on Warder. They said that their mom told them that no one could come over that day or they would be punished. Looking back, I think that Mrs. Reece would have been perfectly fine with me using their toilet.

I continued to walk down Northern Parkway (by myself) trying my best not to have an accident.  It didn't work.  So, for the first time since I was in diapers, I pooped in my pants. I kept on waddling down the street praying that no one would see me, but knowing better. Luckily, we had to wear those dark blue pants so no one would be able to tell unless they got too close or I started leaving a trail.

You came around the corner (most likely from the Marlins) and pulled up next to me. Normally you would just say, "Hi, Jon!"  However, on this fateful day, you asked "Hey, Jon!  Want a ride?"

I was mortified. I didn't know what to do. I had always wanted to ride in your sports car, but I had a load in my pants. the id/super ego fight was going full bore.

"No, thanks," I finally replied. You look surprised, and maybe a little hurt, but you drove on. I waddled home and my mom was teaching piano lessons. She put me in the bath tub and I wallowed in my self-pity.

I didn't make eye contact with you for at least two weeks. I never found out if you knew.

BPJ



 

Saturday, September 19, 2009

A little humor to start things out.

Maria always said that she should get this shirt. I agree.


Welcome

I've started this blog to catalog my writings to my Aunt Maria. Read here. If you have something that you would like to submit, feel free to email me.

Peace,
BPJ