The Elements of Telling a Tale

My daughter often accuses me of exaggerating the truth to create a more interesting story. I disagree - she and I just perceive things a bit differently. However, I must relate recent events so perhaps we can put an end to accusations.

So yesterday Alex and I decide to take a walk on the first fine fall day in six hundred years. (Okay, that was an exaggeration.) We are trudging up suicide hill when all of the sudden a blood-curling scream echos throughout Shelby County. The scream is coming from none other than Alex. And yes, it's another snake sighting. We run, opposite direction from our house. When we get a safe enough distance away from the creature (that I never did see), we stop to strategize. How are we going to get back?

There is no other choice. We make a run for it, back the way we came, and take our chances that the snake won't get us. My advice to Alex..."keep looking up and run fast."

Luckily we make it home, safely. Then she describes the snake that I never saw.

"It was HUGE. It had a great big diamond shape head and it was about this long with two yellow stripes!" She holds her arms out wide, indicating a two foot snake. Apparently, I almost stepped on the slimy bugger and didn't even know it.

As luck has it, my hubby's combine breaks down and we are forced to fetch him. This will give us a chance to take a look at the reptile if it's still there. Alex comes with to provide the exact coordinates.

We edge closer to the alleged location, safely in the Equinox. Then she points it out, "There it is. That's it!"

Apparently, I squashed the monster with my gigantic foot. But I still can't see it well. I back up and sidewind near that black spot on the road. Yep. It's a snake. I probably did it unknowlingly because it's about as wide as a pencil. It's hard to judge the length because it's all coiled up.

Talk about exaggeration...I was expecting some sort of serpent-monster that could've eaten both Alex and me in one bite. Well, I can hardly blame Alex. Perhaps she gets her story-telling abilities honestly.

Finding Laughter is Easy in our House

While I typically look forward to the first snow of the season, October 10th is a bit early for me. I looked out the window and my mood turned subfusc (meaning dark,gloomy...sorry, it happened to be the Word of the Day yesterday and I couldn't resist). But now the sun is shining, the snow is almost gone and Cole has fortunately provided me more reasons to laugh:

Today at lunch.

Part 1: A fart. A glance at Cole. Baby-blue guilty eyes. And then the remark, "Sorry, that was an inappropriate fart." As opposed to the appropriate fart...

Part 2: Lunch diverts to a conversation about surnames. Cole asks, "How do people get their last names?" My hubby quickly responds, "From their grandparents." Of course, Cole then asks, "How do they get their last names?" My hubby quickly responds, "From their grandparents. And they got their last name from their grandparents...." And before the pointless question/answer session goes too far, I interject.

"People of European descent typically have last names that are associated with their trade. For example, Grandma Ruby's last name 'Molgaard, in Danish, means a mill that stands on the farm. Have you ever noticed how many Danish last names end in "gaard" which means farm. I'm not really sure what Kramer means in German..."

Apparently, no one was interested in my dissertation and Cole decides to profess his own theory. "I think God makes up our last names."

We all ask, "Why?"

'Like duh' divulges his attitude as he responds, "Jesus?"

We shrug.

"Jesus had a last name. Jesus CHRIST."

Of course, Mr. Christ. That's why I pay for a Catholic education

Once Upon a Full Moon

Once in a great while, we are not exasperated by obligation. The house is clean (enough). Rain prevents one from operating the combine. Children's activities are not penciled on the calendar. AND (this is key), I don't drive everyone crazy attempting to plan the perfect family weekend.

Luckily, I've been just getting over some cold-like illness and my engine has lacked a little fuel. So, I pretty much let the weekend run its course without my usual interference. It's been quite delightful. A couple of highlights:

*Slept fairly late both days.
*Caught a movie that has made me giggle all weekend (The Invention of Lying...if you're a fan of Ricky Gervais, you'll like it.)
*Indulged my magazine addiction...even purchased the People Style Watch edition.
*Put aside a novel called STILL ALICE, which happens to be scaring the begeezus out of me...the main character is diagnosed with Ahlzeimer's at a very young age...
*Told my hubby I wanted a real book case for Christmas. (Have I ever mentioned my book case story? Perhaps I'll save for a later blog post.)

But the best part of the weekend? My kids came together in unison to create a delightful afternoon of carving pumpkins. There were hardly any accusations of copyright violations and the pumpkins turned out quite adorable...Ahhh yes, see what happens when I stay clear of planning? Remind me next weekend...

On Hamsters, Part Two

So, Alex goes to let Flash out for the evening. She looks up at me, "Uh, the hamster door has been open. We must not have closed it last night."

Guess where Flash was?

Sitting nicely in his cage.

Before you think, "How pathetic. Blogging about hamsters on a Saturday night. Didn't she blog about the hamster last night as well?", let me explain. I've been sick all day. No voice. Splitting headache. Hardly any energy to get this cough out. At least I enjoyed a view of the beautiful sky from my couch. Speaking of laying on the couch...

I promise that my next few postings won't involve Flash. Unless, of course, he does something more amazing than my father, whom is due some limelight soon.

On Hamsters

I’ve blogged on Cousins and Friends this week. So to wrap up the series, I’ve decided to post a few thoughts on hamsters.

The Kramer family evening routine typically involves letting Flash out of his cage while we unwind for the evening. (Hamsters are nocturnal, so as we unwind, he is gearing up for an eventful night life.) As most of you know, hamsters typically travel by roller balls, or they get eaten by cracks, refrigerator undergrounds, open doorways and heating vents. Last night, as Flash sped off to explore the house, we were enthralled in an engaging little flick called “Ghost Town.” The little tinkling sounds of spit-up gerbil food and hamster poopie are pretty much white noise to us as we hear it every night. Anyway, as the show neared the end, a neon static orb on the floor caught my attention. The roller ball. Door busted open. I glanced at Flash’s digs to see if somehow I missed his return home. But no! The cage door was wide open. Flash was gone.

“Uh, anyone holding Flash?” I inquire, knowing full-well that the kids have been ignoring my subtle suggestions to tickle Flash and find his laugh.

Kids fly up. Lights go on. A frantic search begins. As we whirlwind to begin checking the usual places like the laundry baskets, toilets, under beds, we are pleasantly surprised to find Flash sitting under our end table. Apparently, he was enthralled by the movie as well. So, without the usual fuss, Flash was safely placed back into his cage and given a bit of banana for his good behavior.

So. We love our senile dog. We like to watch our flighty cats hiss at each other. But what would we do without the little rat who sleeps most of his life in a little cage in our living room? It’s now been over a year and he’s still kicking. He might be the ugliest hamster we ever owned. But he is certainly the most loyal. Or lazy. Either way, he fits right in.

Next week....on grandpa's.

On Cousins

As an only child, my cousins gave me the only semblance of any sort of sibling relationship. I was particularly close to Timbra, who was only a few months my younger.

Timbra was athletic, free-spirited and brave. Contrast this to a timid, clumsy rule-follower. She'd convince me to leave my Barbies to play outside. Usually, the coaxing had something to do with chasing me with a snake. But at least she forced me to get a little fresh air. If I convinced her to stay inside to play house, she'd change up the story line by adding a rabid dog or wild mustang. Undoubtedly, we had our differences. And there lies the beauty.

I could voice my opinion to her and she, of course, could beat me up. (She didn't usually do this. I only remember one sucker-punch in the gut during a father-arranged boxing match.) But we could be ourselves, knowing full-well we wouldn't damage our friendship. Because we were cousins. No matter how she riled me, I'd always love her.

Now, I can see the power of cousins with our own children.

Alex can share secrets, talk boys (I think she does this, but Al is not divulging) and go shopping with her dear cousin Mikayla.
Cole can talk video games and learn to boy-fight with this three older cousins, Dillon, Denny and Mitch. Yesterday he had the chance to hang out with them. Apparently, Dillon (a senior in high school) taught Cole a few tips in football. When Cole had fallen at one time, with a fairly extensive injury according to Cole, Dillon helped him to deal. "Get up. You got to be tough in football." (My hubby would've told him the same thing, but the lesson would've been futile with his mother rushing to the side of her son.)

Cousins are great. They provide a safe outlet from your everyday friends and a highly-desired retreat your immediate family.

Here's one of my first cousin Trent, teaching Alex a few riffs on the guitar.

Chef Kramerre'

It could be the previews of Julie and Julia. Or the fact I want my family to eat better. Or that I want to expand my horizons. But the truth is I'm just plain sick of eating out. Thus, my quest continues to improve my cooking skills.

So the other day I'm at the check-out line and a Rachel Ray magazine catches my attention. Supposedly there's a killer ribs recipe hiding in between the pages. Now I've never tried to make ribs, but I thought to myself, "why not?"

After thumbing through the pages of Rachel Ray (and let me tell you there's much more to Rachel Ray than cooking!), I find there are many cheeses, spices and flavored vinegars I've never heard of. This is where I start to get hung up. How can I cook if I don't even understand the ingredient list? But I'm not giving up yet. I've written down all of the ingredients for the ribs and the only things I can't find in the store are sweet-smoked paprika (so I buy paprika with the intent of sweet smoking it myself) and honey. I do know what honey is, but heck if I can find it. No worry. We have some bees flying around the house.

I'm thinking the key to cooking is patience. So, every experiment is a pretty darn good exercise for me. I realize that the skill won't be developed over night...take today for example.

...Alex and I decided to bring an Angel Food cake to our family reunion today. This particular recipe (a mix) instructs us to simply add water. No sweat. But something happens and the mix begins to run through the angel food cake pan (inherited from my grandmother). I still don't know what happened, but the mix was kindling a fire in the oven. Because of my quick thinking, I took the mix out and we immediately put the half-cooked batter into muffins tins. Apparently, not only do you need patience, but you need a little ingenuity!

So after putting the muffin tins back in the oven and waiting another twenty minutes, Alex notices that we have forgotten to turn the oven back on. Oh, well...what could that hurt? Again, another test of patience.

Finally, after tiring of the burning angel food cake smell, we retrieve our angel food cupcake experiment from the oven. They are, well, quite interesting. Maybe they will taste okay...

I take a bite. Certainly, it is the crunchiest angel food I've ever had. It really doesn't taste too bad. But rather than face another gathering of people politely look past my dish, I think we'll bring ice cream to the reunion...

I'll keep you posted on how the ribs turn out.

In Pursuit of Laughter

I have every reason to be happy. A new position at the Bank. A perfect family. Healthy parents. Wonderful friends. Etc... Yet this weekend I found myself in an insufferable sour mood, wallowing in self pity. Why you ask?

(I started to divulge the reasons, then quickly deleted as I quickly became attuned to my triteness.)

So yesterday as I sat folding laundry before heading to the Fair, something happened. Something pretty wonderful, really.

I feigned a request to borrow one of Alex's skirts. Her innocent and moderately horrified reaction sent laughter through the room.

Ah, the joy of a tear-releasing belly laugh! I decided to find every opportunity to laugh again. And so I did...in fact, it made me wonder how many times in a typical day I miss a chance to laugh. Probably too many.

So from now on, when I started to head down that path of "nobody has it worse than me" (even though I know very well it's not close to being true), I'm going find something to laugh about...

Gotta go. Jeff Dunham is on right now...

Oh, but before I sign off...the skirt I wanted to borrow...

In Honor of Father's Day!

In honor of Father’s Day yesterday, I devote this week to the men in my life. Since Cole tends to get the spotlight, I’ll begin with someone who only makes an occasional appearance on this blog. I feel just a tinge of guilt. He really IS an important part of my life, and he often provides great fodder for blogs. But it’s just so hard to beat the words that come out of my kids' mouths.

Anyway, here’s to my dad. He has many formidable traits, and I listed them below in the order I think he would prefer:

1. Good looking, not appearing a day over 60. (He’s actually 62!)
2. Modest, really.
3. His ingenious mechanical mind, of which I inherited absolutely none of it. I can’t even rebuild a 1960 Panhead.
4. His financial acumen. (Only he and my mom will get this joke).
5. Obtains the best Cole confessions ever. (“Grandpa, you know when your daughter (my mom) was a baby and she was a lot of work? Well, I’m not gonna get married because I don’t want that stress.”)
6. How he remembers every detail of a 1928 JD Harley, but he can’t remember how to spell my name...Steffffenie, Daphne, etc.
7. The joy he brings our kids. No kidding on that one..he never tells them no.
8. Finally, and most importantly, his plan to take us to Hawaii next year. You just can’t beat that.

But seriously, as is with most daughters (including my own), I believe my father to be the funniest man on earth. I can always count on him to make me laugh, no matter how crummy I feel. Thanks Dad, you’re #1 in my book.

Pictures this week will have nothing to do with the men I feature, but I thought I’d share a bit of the wildlife at our farm...have you ever seen a more stupid-looking cat? He's actually quite pretty when he's not posing.

...some Fun that is Funny...

After feeling sorry for myself this weekend for a rather stupid reason (not winning a short story contest), my poor little son ends up with Influenza B. There's nothing like a sick child to make you realize what's really important. Anyway, the 48-pounder seems to be rebounding as he is currently working on one of his "projects" right now.

Anyway, God continued to confirm the pettiness of my self-pity, by a few other events. Today our Bank celebrated President's Day with an all-staff meeting. One of our presentations came from Alegent's EAP program and was entitled, "Using Humor in the Workplace." Truth be told, our staff probably needed that presentation as much as a child needs candy. Cleverly, our presenter had sprinkled some humor through the slideshow, but for some reason kept fast-forwarding through the jokes -- the parts we were all waiting for. We didn't care about the facts(laughing has health benefits, humor reduces stress, yada yada yada.) Get to the good stuff! Give us George Costanza's advice on looking busy at work!

But seriously, our presenter quizzed us on our own humor development. What type of household were you brought up in? What kind of humor was used? What comedies did you watch? Red Skelton? Johnny Carson? Did your Dad play practical jokes!

Not my family.

Oh, sure. We dabbled in the usual bathroom humor that all families enjoy. "Did you hear that fart?" "No, but I smell it!") But we also dabbled in something I would describe as offbeat, on the cusp of morbid, fairly dry and not without sarcasm.

My Dad was near-genius on the art of the game. For those of you who read Goodbye Def Leppard, do you remember the scene when Amy's Dad challenges her to a quick match of the Dead Game? When she must guess the ages of those who died in the paper? Well, that ain't no fiction. It was a common game played (at least twice a week)in the Ronfeldt household.

My Dad also liked to mimic Name That Tune. We played it with a few of my beginner piano songs. After picking a song (without my Dad's help...ahem), Mom and Dad challenged each other with those delicious words, "Sandy, I can name that tune in....notes" Amazingly, my Dad could guess 'Mister Frog is Full of Hops' in one single note.

Mom has always said that humor not only kept their marriage alive -- it saved it. I never really understood what she meant. But now that I've been married for almost 15 years, it's one of those quotes that recurs in my mind frequently. I'd argue that it doesn't only save marriages, but entire families as well. See here? Alex and Cole get it. Of course, kids always do.