My Heart Blogs To You

Present For My Parents

2012-01-26T14:43:00.001-08:00

The Author of this post is Cheryl Martinez

I live in California but I am originally from Philadelphia. My parents still live there, in the same house I grew up in. They are very frugal people and hardly ever do anything nice for themselves. I wanted to do something really special for them last year for Christmas, so instead of buying them some lame gift like I usually do, I went tohttp://www.directstartv.com/localchannels/Pennsylvania/P/Philadelphia/ and got them Directv. I got them all set up and had the service billed to me so that they don’t have to worry about it. Sometimes my dad’s frugality borders on obsessive, and I knew my mom needed some entertainment at home. My dad is still working and my mom is retired, so she gets bored at home. I want her to enjoy her retirement after she worked so hard for so many years. I hate to think of her at home all alone and with nothing to do. I am glad I could afford to do something nice for them since I know my dad would never agree to pay for it. He is such a cheapo!

Where's the Rodeo – Drive?

2012-01-22T08:52:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, I felt a pull toward California. I wanted to live there. And I wanted to be discovered. (How I thought I could be "discovered" as a writer merely by standing on the corner of Hollywood and Vine, I'll never know {ah, the mysteries of my mind}, but that is what I wanted to happen.)

So a friend of mine and I, along with my oldest daughter, flew to Los Angeles, visited Knott's Berry Farm and Disneyland, and tried to locate Rodeo Drive, where all the famous people hung out. Maybe one of THEM would notice me.

Oh, Rodeo Drive, you bring back such fun memories. We soon discovered that Rodeo Drive was a mystery street intended for the Hollywood elite only. We never made it there, because the heavily accented Mexican cab driver didn't understand us when we pronounced the street as if it were a cowboy rodeo. We had never heard the pronunciation of the word. We only read about it in magazines.

The conversation went something like this:

Us – Please take us to Rodeo Drive.
Him – I don't know no Rodeo Drive.
Us – Of course you do. It's the most famous street in all of Los Angeles!
Him – No, I never heard of it.
Us – Are you new?
Him – No, it doesn't exist.

Several years later, when we discovered the proper pronunciation, I wanted to locate a California criminal lawyer. I knew that driver was just messing with us. Good luck, taxi cab driver, I thought, in locating a Los Angeles criminal defense lawyer who would believe your whine about how we didn't make ourselves perfectly clear. Would s/he believe that you had "no idea" where Rodeo Drive was located? Not likely!

To be honest, I don't know what crime I would have accused him of committing – misunderstanding a passenger? Misleading a passenger? Being intentionally evil to a passenger? I KNOW he knew what we were talking about. But I wouldn't have been able to prove it in a court of law.

Perhaps he truly didn't understand what we were talking about, though. I learned recently from a British writer friend of mine (John), who is also a teacher in China, that some Mandarin words, when speakers employ a different tone, mean different things. Ma, for instance, can mean mother, hemp, or horse. Ma can also be used to scold someone. So I have learned to forgive the taxi cab driver for not understanding us.

Still, I've never visited Rodeo Drive, but at least I now know how to pronounce it.

So That's How Girls Have Babies?

2012-01-16T08:01:00.000-08:00

Old photo of Kaden and his cousin, Audrey.

My grandson was sitting next to me Friday night while I was watching "A Gifted Man." He was playing games on my iPad, and I thought he was totally engrossed in the game, but during a scene when a woman was giving birth, I heard him say, "So that's how girls have babies? It comes out their butts?"

Well, imagine my surprise. What a quandary. Do I tell him the truth? Do I make a big deal out of it and call his parents and ask them what they want me to tell him?

What do I say?

So I told him the truth – No, Kaden, babies do not come out of a woman's butt.

But he wouldn't leave it alone. I could feel my heart stop when he asked, "Then where do they come out?"

Oh, come on, Kaden, I went through this four times already with my kids. Do I have to go through this with all my grandchildren too?

After thinking for about a solid minute I told him, that yes, they do come out from that area, but sometimes the mom has to have her belly cut to take the baby out.

"They cut the mom?"

Will this torture ever end?

"Sometimes."

As I held my breath waiting for the next question, I dared to look over my shoulder at him. He was happily playing on the iPad, already on to new thoughts.

PHEW!

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Jumping on the Bed

2012-01-09T06:47:00.000-08:00

Ayla (4), Audrey (7), and Nolan (4) – Avery (almost 4 months)
in on the couch under the pillow (I had to replace my hand
with the pillow so she wouldn't know I wasn't still with her).

Yesterday I watched three of my grandchildren and one of my great grandchildren so my daughter and granddaughter could work at my daughter's consignment shop for several hours.

When my granddaughter and her daughter moved in with me, we pulled a mattress (that I had forgotten I had) from the garage so she would have somewhere to sleep. While I was away last Thursday and Friday, watching three of my other grandchildren, Sarah moved the bed from my guest room into her new bedroom and put the mattress from the garage on the floor in the guest room.

Thinking this would be a great way for the kids to jump on the bed without falling off, I told them that an hour after they allowed their lunches to settle I would let them do something I had never let them do before. I could see the excitement in their eyes.

With deliberation and a gleam of "you guys are going to be so excited when you hear this" in my eyes, I said, "You know that mattress that's on the floor in the back room?"

I could see Audrey's eyes squint in a sneer as if what I was about to say was going to be the worst idea she'd ever heard, but Nolan (4) and Ayla (4) looked expectant.

"I am going to let you jump on the bed!"

Expecting a Yay! or a Yahoo! or even a thank you, I got instead vacant looks. My look changed to curiosity until Audrey (7) said, "Yeah, we already tried that. It's not fun."

So I went back to the bedroom and jumped on the mattress. It was like jumping on cement. Now I know why Sarah switched mattresses and why I had put it in the garage in the first place.

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It's the Season to be Charlie!

2012-01-05T12:57:00.000-08:00

The week between Christmas and New Year three of my grandchildren were visiting their father (my son) in Virginia, so I didn't get much time to spend with them.

The youngest, Zac, is still in the holiday spirit though, and when I arrived at his home this morning, he spent the whole morning singing "Deck the Halls!"

However, his version is a little different from the version I remember – "'tis the season to be jolly" – Zac's version is, "It's the season to be Charlie!"

If he only knew…

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The World in Black and White

2012-01-04T07:44:00.000-08:00

When my second oldest daughter, Lindsey, was looking through old photos of me, she was struck by the difference between pictures of herself with her brother and sisters and photos of me with my sisters.

"Will all my pictures turn to black and white when I get older too?" she asked.

That memory surfaced while I was grocery shopping with one of my granddaughters the weekend before the Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday last year. I had told my (then) six-year-old granddaughter, Audrey, about how Martin Luther King, Jr. stood for peace, and that Martin Luther King, Jr. was the reason her school was celebrating the holiday by giving her the day off.

The following Monday, when she was home from school celebrating the holiday with a day off, her mom and I watched Oprah's tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr. as Oprah reviewed racism over a 25-year period. In one segment, Oprah showed the Little Rock 9 school integration of 1957.

I pointed at the television and said, "When I was your age, Audrey, that's the way the world was back then."

When Audrey looked at the segment, she cocked her head, furrowed her brow, and asked, "You had no color?"

The more I thought about these two situations, I remembered that color had come to television sets at about the same time the country was instituting integration. I couldn't help but draw a correlation.

In a sense the world had no color, because whites dismissed the black race. When new color TVs entered the home, "colored people," as we referred to them back then, entered white schools at around the same time.

Coincidence?

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The Butt Race into Old Age: Fighting Gravity

2011-12-28T12:50:00.000-08:00

I realized something this morning. A couple of weeks ago, my youngest daughter purchased a shirt for me. I thanked her, and I wore it without giving it much thought. At the end of the day I took it off.

And then (shudder) I noticed something unusual about the shirt. Without thinking (that was my first mistake), I realized that I had taken from her a shirt that practically SCREAMED, "Old Lady!"

Was it true? Had I suddenly become an old lady? Was the slip into old age so subtle that I automatically slipped on an "old lady" shirt without giving any consideration whatsoever to the way I looked in the old lady shirt?

But what's worse is that she thought it would look good on me. Well, yeah, because you're old, she practically taunted me (without saying a word, but she spoke volumes with that shirt).

What has become of me? Next thing you know, I'll be putting on flower-printed muu-muus, dying my hair pitch black, putting dark black eyebrow pencil on my eyebrows, and encircling my cheeks with rouge.

And the fact that I called it rouge instead of blush further indicates my slip into old age.

Yes, that's exactly how it happens. We SLIP into old age, our bodies sagging into the ground in an attempt to slide six feet under before we are ready, and we drag our butts back up and say, NOT YET, fighting gravity with all our mights just to keep our bodies above ground.

No, Dylan Thomas, I WILL NOT GO GENTLY INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT!

And so, it is with dignity and grace that I pull my jowls back up into my face, the flab back into my stomach and butt, and exercise the muscles that are racing to the floor.

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Just Rub My Tummy

2011-12-27T09:08:00.000-08:00

My four-year-old grandson, Zac, along with his brother, Kaden, and sister, Taylor, spent three nights with me last week. And every night, when it was time to go to sleep, Zac wanted to sleep with me. What "sleeping" with Zac entails is Grandma rubbing his tummy so he can fall asleep.

After the third night of being – first with 3 kids, then with 8 kids, then with 6 kids – 3 days in a row, I was exhausted, so on the third night of his stay, I told him, "Zac, Grandma is too tired to rub your tummy until you fall asleep.

Being the sweet gentleman he is, he offered me an option – "That's OK, you can just put you hand on my tummy."

He sure has grown. When he was two years old, he had to have his whole body resting on mine before he could fall asleep. I talk about that time in The Symbol of a Grandma's Love. You'll see the symbol in this blog as well, though to get an explanation, you'll have to read the other blog.

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Hubby Talk

2011-12-27T08:48:00.001-08:00

Thanks for the post from Rashad Townsend

I talked to my husband about getting some dish packages for the house so we could institute a family movie night which I think would be a good way for us to get together on a regular basis. I want to find a way to keep our kids in the house as much as possible so we can keep tabs on them since they’re getting into their teens and I don’t really love the crowd they’re hanging around with. I can only imagine what it’s like to have kids who are totally off the rocker but for us it’s all about keeping a bond with them while they still like us and I think this movie night is a good way to do that. The kids are going to get to choose the movies because I know if we make them watch stuff they don’t want to they’re going to revolt against movie night. I really wish we could just hold them in our arms until they grow up and become good adults!

My Grandchildren Present a Christmas Song for Me

2011-12-22T19:00:00.000-08:00

Only 5 of them participated, but thank you, Taylor, Kaden, Zac, Audrey, and Nolan

Baby Talk

2011-12-22T18:49:00.000-08:00

I tried posting this video on Facebook, but after numerous attempts, gave up and decided to post it in this blog. Hopefully, it will show up here.

What you see is 8 of my grandchildren. Avery, my 3 month old granddaughter, talks to her grandma.

Audrey's Story July 2011

2011-12-13T18:33:00.000-08:00

My granddaughter, Audrey, was six and a half years old when she wrote the following story. I promised her I would post it, but got interrupted. Here is the story she wrote last summer:

All she wants for Christmas is her two front teeth, her two front teeth, her two front teeth...

There was a little girl. Her name was Sarah. She was the worst baseball player ever, so she wanted to practice catching balls. She kept on missing. But then she got it. She caught it ten times in a row.

She practiced batting with her coach. She kept on missing, but then she hit a home run. So she wanted to play baseball.

She was outfield. She caught all of the balls. Then it was her turn to bat. She always hit a home run out of the park. She was turning into the best player ever. Everybody cheered for her.

The end.

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Zac Remembers Being In The Womb

2011-12-11T09:09:00.000-08:00

Zac and Kaden visiting their Dad in Virginia

My youngest granddaughter, Avery, was born a couple of months ago. When I discussed Avery's birth with Zac, who was still 3 at the time, I told him that Avery was no longer in her mommy's tummy.

"I know," Zac responded. "It was fun being in my mommy's tummy."

Playing along, I said, "You remember being in your mommy's tummy?"

"Yeah."

"What did you do in your mommy's tummy?" I wanted to know.

" I was a crazy psycho boy," Zac responded.

"A crazy psycho boy?" I laughed.

"Yeah, it was fun. It was like wrestling in a tent."

"Who were you wrestling with?"

"Myself."

Because he was an extremely active infant before he was born, I could find no argument with his memory of being a "crazy psycho boy" in his mommy's tummy, and when he added that it was, "like wrestling in a tent," I couldn't help but wonder how he related being wrapped in a tent and kicking his way out of it to being in his mommy's tummy.

I think his experience requires more investigation ;)

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Secrets My Family Doesn't Want Me To Tell

2011-11-30T12:40:00.000-08:00

Hidden in my head are thousands – you heard me – THOUSANDS of secrets I've been sworn not to tell ANYBODY.

Sometimes I sneak those little secrets into blogs – disguised. But seriously, you have no idea how many times friends and family tell me things I am sworn NOT to tell.

Since my family doesn't read my blogs, I'd like to share one of those dirty little secrets here – in this blog – UNdisguised. My family doesn't read my blogs anyway (evil grin).

Yes, sad as it is to write it, and even more sad to actually admit it, my family doesn't read my blogs.

However, I should probably add that since I posted a title that's sure to arouse curiosity, some of them may actually read this one and then expel a huge sigh of relief when they realize I haven't divulged more than just one secret.

The secret? My family doesn't read my blogs. (I can hear the heart flutters easing as I write that last sentence.)

Though they will never admit to having read this blog, I have the satisfaction of knowing they probably did.

Light bulb moment: I think I've just discovered how to get my family to read my blogs!

Disclaimer: two of my family members sometimes (emphasis on sometimes) read my blogs and I'm sure they are breathing HUGE sighs of relief right now.

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Mona Lisa Taylor – My Granddaughter's 1st Play – Watch Out Broadway!

2011-11-22T05:50:00.000-08:00

My granddaughter, Taylor, just acted and sang in her first play, The Musical Adventures of Flat Stanley, Jr., which I and my youngest daughter, Brittney, along with two of her children, Audrey and Nolan, got to see with Taylor's mom, grandma, and brothers, Kaden and Zac.

The original Flat Stanley project is a literacy program that allows children around the globe to "publish stories, describe local traditions and scenery, talk about Stanley's adventures, and post pictures" (from the Flat Stanley web site).

In the case of the play though, Flat Stanley is a character who finds himself suddenly flat after being crushed in bed. The advantages of being flat are that he can place himself in an envelope and mail himself to all parts of the world.

Taylor played the role of Mona Lisa, a painting at the Louvre that talked. She and the whole crew had practiced for so many hours over so many days, I shouldn't have been surprised that it ran as smoothly as it did. What a talented little group!

Taylor looked so comfortable on the stage, I saw Broadway lights flashing in my mind and I couldn't help but be proud of her for memorizing her lines and for playing the part of Mona Lisa so well. Her brother, Zac, couldn't help but blurt out her name every time he saw her either. His other grandma and I kept shushing him, but he had such a big wide grin on his face, I thought his little outbursts were really cute and I think Taylor thought so too. Zac was obviously happy to see his sister on stage.

The play was funny and cute, and I really enjoyed it, but the part I loved the best was at the very end, after all of the cast members had taken their bows – there was Taylor jumping up and down and clapping, because she was so happy. (I wonder if anybody caught her exhilaration on camera).

Great job, Mona Lisa Taylor.

By the way Flat Stanley has a Facebook page and you can follow Stanley with the Flat Stanley App (just click the links).

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Mold and Musty Odors

2011-11-09T03:58:00.000-08:00

Here we go again. If you have read any of my previous blogs, or if you know me, you know that once one problem surfaces, other underlying problems arise and my problems keep growing and growing and … (just keep going).

Anyway, last spring I discovered that my ceiling was leaking. I won't discuss any further the problems that resulted from having to get my ceiling repaired and then my vent caps replaced, nor will I whine about the resulting cost that included my ONE THOUSAND DOLLAR deductible. But I will discuss another problem that occurred simultaneously.

At about the same time my roof leaked, so too did my kitchen sink, and, because of my allergies and the mold problem that resulted from a leaky sink, and because I ended up in the hospital with an asthma attack and pneumonia, I had my son-in-law and my daughter-in-law's sister's boyfriend (sorry – I realize how complicated that sounds) install a new sink.

However, they didn't completely seal the area underneath the sink, so for the past several months, the sink had been leaking (unbeknown to me) and the floorboard under the sink was covered with mold.

In my defense, I rarely visit the area beneath my sink, because I have my dish detergent ON my sink. My other cleaning supplies are located in the laundry room.

This past weekend one of my daughter's boyfriends tried to repair the broken sink, but could tighten only one side and will have to come back to repair the other in a couple of weeks because he had to go to the store to purchase something I didn't have and he didn't have time to stay.

Now, when I need a plastic garbage bag, I open the cabinet under the sink, quickly grab a bag, and slam the door shut, because I still have a mold problem.

UnfortunateIy I cannot destroy the hideous mold smell because the only company I know that handles musty odor removal is in Austin, and I live in Illinois – I'm going to have to devise another plan to remove the mold and musty odor from beneath my sink. Perhaps an exorcism would work.

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Proud of My Kids

2011-10-28T12:52:00.000-07:00

Even though my children are grown, I still marvel at the way they turned out. I don't give myself all the credit, but when situations like what I'm about to explain occur, I can't help but hope I had a little something to do with the kind of people they have become.

Earlier this week, my youngest daughter treated me to a Pumpkin Spice Frappuccino. While we were sitting at Barnes and Noble, I noticed a pair of sunglasses lying on the floor outside the cafe. I picked them up thinking they belonged to my granddaughter. When I brought them to the table, my daughter told me that no, they weren't my granddaughters; they belonged to somebody else. As she examined the glasses she noted that they were VERY expensive sunglasses.

Some people might have kept the sunglasses. Others might have left them on the table. My daughter turned them in to the lost and found. I'm a firm believer in, "what goes around comes around," and I hope her good deed will be reciprocated with a well-deserved reward, even if that reward is only the rewarding feeling that she did the right thing.

Moving to Savannah

2011-10-28T08:45:00.000-07:00

Posted by Heriberto Fuentes

Two years ago my husband and I visited Savannah for the first time. I absolutely fell in love with the city and told him that I wanted to move there. It is such a romantic southern city. We walked along the river and listened to bands outside. We visited little candy shops and ate at delicious restaurants. We walked around downtown and looked at the historic monuments. We even went to the beach at Tybee Island, which was not very far away. We loved the city of Savannah so much that when we got home from our trip, we immediately started making arrangements for moving there. I did some research online to figure out what kind of utilities we would be using and found out that they have Wildblue service in Savannah GA for satellite internet. We found a townhouse that we will rent until we can find a house that we want to buy. We are still in that townhouse today, but I honestly love the location so much that I am not sure I want to buy a house.

Men Can't Always Pump Iron

2011-10-14T08:11:00.000-07:00

They may be the stronger sex physically, but when it comes to the physical process of nursing a baby, men can't always pump iron, as this little boy discovers.

(Photo is of my grandson, who, after finding his mother's breast pump, perhaps thought he could produce milk to feed his new baby sister.)

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Layla SeeSaw Midnight Snow Boots

2011-09-12T15:49:00.000-07:00

When I was a little girl, I longed to have a cat or a small dog, but I never had any animals except for a few turtles that somehow kept dying on me. Well, not literally ON me, but mine kept dying, while my sisters' turtles thrived. I was never very good at caring for plants either. I heard that I might have some luck with air ferns, but even they died on me.

When I turned 19 and I was living on my own with my oldest daughter, I decided it was time I got a pet for us. I figured I would have better luck with animals. And I did.

What helped was that I LOVED cats. My first cat, Layla, was a beautiful black cat who perched herself on my lap frequently and allowed me to pet her while she purred contentedly. She was also a very smart cat.

When I sat on the floor one Christmas morning, picking up wrapping paper my daughter had scattered across the room, I rolled them into little balls and aimed them in the direction of the garbage can (missing more often than not – I was no Michael Jordan). As a result, most of the little balls landed on the floor next to the garbage can.

As I was rolling yet another ball, Layla brought one back to me. Looking into her eyes, I somehow knew that she wanted to play "catch" – WOW! my CAT wanted to play catch with me.

So I threw another little ball and she dutifully brought it back to me. Over and over again, I threw little paper balls and watched Layla retrieve them again and again. It became a daily game from that point on.

Thinking she was lonely, because my daughter and I were only human and she probably wanted something from her own species, and because we were not always home, I got Layla a little friend and allowed my 3-year-old daughter to name her. SeeSaw, a little fur ball of black, had some intellectual problems. She may have been taken from her mother a little too soon, because she slept wrapped around my head and I frequently awoke to her sucking on my neck.

Some landlords don't allow animals, and when I had to move, I couldn't bring my cats with me, so I gave them to some other animal lovers. It wasn't until a couple of years later that I found myself with new kittens again though. I couldn't NOT have a cat.

Midnight was a beautiful fully black cat. Snow was pure white and had beautiful ocean blue eyes. Like SeeSaw, Snow might have been a little on the slow side. Either that or she was ornery. No matter where I placed the litter box, she found a different corner of the CARPETED bathroom to use, even if the litter box had previously been in that corner. As much as I loved her, I had to find her another home where she could stay in an uncarpeted house – on a farm.

When Boots, our dog, arrived on the scene, Midnight found a new fun play partner. The two of them got along fabulously. I didn't know how fabulously until I came home from work during the Christmas season one evening to find Midnight INSIDE the Christmas tree batting off all the ornaments so Boots could scatter them around the floor and play with them. Broken glass shards were EVERYWHERE.

The landlord heard the commotion and when I arrived home from work I was told to find new homes for my pets – again.

Now, sadly I have no pets, but I can't have them anymore anyway because of my allergies – which is fine – I have my memories of Layla, SeeSaw, Midnight, Snow, and Boots.

I'd better get rid of my allergies though. Some of my grandchildren have pets and one of my grandsons (my oldest daughter's middle son) loves animals so much he wants to become a vet. For his birthday I might have to get him some veterinary technician scrubs just to get him in the mindset of a vet ;)

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I Wish I Was A Grownup

2011-08-26T12:37:00.000-07:00

Zac asleep in Daddy's arms.

"I wish I was a grownup," my grandson Zac said, as he has been saying often lately. Zac will be four in November.

"I wanna be a grownup, so I can drive a car." Well, three is a little young to be thinking about driving, but I like the fact that he has goals.

"Guess what!" I responded. "In about 12 years you will be able to drive a car."

Zac wasn't impressed.

"And I wanna eat broccoli."

Well, that was unexpected.

"Do you like broccoli?"

"I hate broccoli. But when I be a grownup, I will like it."

Again, good to know he has goals.

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Moving Out of the City

2011-08-25T09:16:00.000-07:00

Content by Sol Rosales

I decided that it was time for me to move out of the city and get myself a house a little outside of the city. Even though I have to drive in to work every day, I’m loving having space for my new puppy. That was my favorite part of having a new house. I knew that if I moved out of the city that I could get my own sweet little puppy. I decided on a Labrador retriever because I had one when I was growing up. Some people think that they’re too wild, but I knew that I would have a place for her to run. I named her “Pup,” which doesn’t really fit her anymore because she’s gotten so big! I’ve also gotten to do things like put up curtains, buy real furniture, and all of those ‘grown-up’ things. It’s also been an adjustment having to sign up for electricity (I compared atWWW.texaselectricityproviders.com/), water, and my cable company. Overall, I’ve loved having a new house, and am loving having all of this space!

Mr. Sippy

2011-08-12T07:13:00.000-07:00

Audrey and Nolan were on vacation with their Aunt Elaine and Uncle Ryan a couple of weeks ago. They traveled from central Illinois to St. Louis, Missouri, where their Uncle Ryan, who coached a girl's baseball team, had entered his team in a tournament.

Nolan was particularly excited to see Mr. Sippy – you know – that big river that runs from western Minnesota for 2,320 miles down to the Mississippi River Delta in the Gulf of Mexico.

As you can see by the photo on the right, Audrey takes after her grandma's fashion sense. She wanted to dress herself that day, which I, her grandma, allowed, because I'm a believer in allowing children to express themselves. However, because of the way she was dressed, Audrey wasn't allowed out of the car at her mom's fashion consignment boutique ;) Hopefully she will develop her mother's sense of style before she gets much older.

What Is Wrong With This Picture? BINGO! You Got It!

2011-08-08T07:09:00.000-07:00

My grandchildren love playing games. Audrey especially enjoys Bingo games. I was playing Bingo with her a while ago and forgot to post this blog about the weirdest Bingo game I've ever played. Or should I say the weirdest Bingo game I ever noticed was weird.

Take a good long look at the cards and see if you can find the problem. Go ahead look at them very carefully. I'll wait.

Did you notice that on both cards a number appears twice in two separate columns?

When I was a kid, Bingo was numbered B, 1-15, I, 16-30, N, 31-45, G, 46-60, and O, 61-75. Obviously things have changed, because now 29 is both an "I" number and an "N" number, and 75 is a "G" number as well as an "O" number.

Wow!

I wonder if having two numbers in two separate columns increases or decreases your chances of winning. In my case I lost because out of the two cards I had, both of which are pictured above, I didn't have 29 or 75.

I guess it's time to update my game skills and start playing online Bingo. Maybe the online Bingo sites number their cards correctly!

Where Babies Come From

2011-07-21T10:46:00.000-07:00

Dolls In Hospital Awaiting Birth

Audrey and Nolan Taking a Break from
Swimming on Living Room Floor

Audrey and Nolan are playing house right now where they have designated various parts of my house as different rooms, including a hospital where all of the babies that can be naked are naked (see photo) and are awaiting birth.

One of those babies is an American Girl doll (Addy or Addie – I'm not sure how to spell it). Yesterday Audrey's Aunt Laura took her to the American Girl store in Chicago and Aunt Laura brought along Audrey's new American Girl doll (courtesy of Aunt Laura) so Aunt Laura could purchase matching clothes Audrey could share with her new doll, which she named Cindy.

Right now Audrey and Nolan are taking a break after swimming in the living room pool (a layout of blankets). When I asked Audrey why she wasn't playing with both of her American Girl dolls, Audrey explained:

"Well, Addy (Addie) is still in the hospital because I'm not pregnant with her yet."

A little while later I heard her tell Nolan that she was pregnant and that she had to go to the hospital to get her baby. Now Cindy is part of their family.

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