satire
"Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city." - George Burns
The Chicken Knock
While raising my family out in the country chickens were a part of our unique little farm life and their purpose was to provide eggs for my family, and those hens did their job well. Those layers supplied my family, parents, and friends with farm-fresh eggs. They had free roam and we cooped them up only at night. My two youngest boys would find stashes of eggs all over. They would come running up to the house with more than a dozen eggs collected in their tee shirts. Everyone who visited would go home with at least a dozen eggs.
Paula CushmanPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesDear Ol' Dar
{SNI(long inhale, through the nose)FF!} {HAA(slow, exhaled sigh through the mouth)AH!} That’s my dad. Long, measured inhalation of breath through the nose. Hold it. Slow, breathy sigh out the mouth. This was usually followed by him placing his hand over his mouth, thumb on one cheekbone, index finger on the other, then slowly moving his hand downward, stroking his salt and paprika beard.
M. Michael TRARPPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesThe Jenkinson debócale
“Merry no!” Frank said within the fullness of concern. She was across the room. The party halted and all eyes were on him. Merry herself was quite startled and stood frozen, with a Christmas cookie in her hand. “Frank, don’t embarrass me” she stomped over in a huff as the crowd began to regain the momentum of the neighborhood party. It was being held at Jenkinson's this year and Merry felt pressured to look her best. The Jenkinson’s always had the best things and threw the best parties and always boasted of it as well. Frank hated the Jenkinson’s. “What is it?” asked Merry angrily. “Wait, wait look” said Frank pointing over at the snack table that Merry had just marched from. Merry looked over just in time to see George Jenkinson take a bit of the very same type of cookies that she was seconds from eating herself. Mr. Jenkinson ate. “Slam dunk” whispered Frank. “You didn’t” Merry whispered in response, though she needed no answer, the look in his eye was all she needed. “How much did you put in?”, “all of it”, “all of it?”, “Every. Last. Drop”. Merry looked up in desperation to see if anything could be done to change what had just happened, but to her dismay all she saw was George Jenkinson scarfing down their cookies. Helpless, she watched as he praised their freshly made cookies to all the guests and offered them to everyone. Everyone at the party had taken one at this point.
Jedidiah JohnsonPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesAustralia's most deadly animals
Australia is known for its dangerous animals. We have 20 of the 25 most venomous snakes in the world, and including the most venomous of all: The Inland Taipan.
The Cockroach Story You Requested -I Deliver on My Promises
Okay, folks. You asked for it, and I am going to deliver it. Because you enjoyed the frog story and the snake story, I promised to tell you the cockroach story.
Joan GershmanPublished 2 years ago in Families- Runner-Up in Mother's Day Confessions Challenge
5-9-5-3
Hey Mom. I never told you this before, but I need to confess something. As you know, I lived at your place for a bit, we’ll call it eighteen years. For the first twelve or so, there was a rule that was not to be broken: Do NOT watch any adult TV shows. This rule was created after the great “Degrassi Incident” where the ten-year-old version of Kyle was watching his weekly teen melodrama and accidentally inquired as to what Marijuana was. Yes, it was an accident, and no I didn’t actually know what marijuana was until several years later, which I’m sure will be covered in another story. The point is, you had to do something. Honestly, I get it. You didn’t want to be the only one at parent-teacher conferences having to explain why at recess your 4th grader was the one rolling joints out of Crayon paper or singing Bob Marley on the play structure. No harm no foul, but I digress.
Kyle MaddoxPublished 2 years ago in Families Yes, Sir, Daddy Darling, Sir (Salute Twice)
Yes, Sir, Daddy, Darling, Sir! (Salute Twice) By Minnette Meador On that bright September morning in 1959, the kind that sparks apples on cheeks, we walked across the school parking lot. The brick building loomed gargantuan in front of us, and the pillared vestibule was filled to the brim with noisy kids. Some were confident, smug, smacking each other on the shoulders as if to say, “This is my place.” Others bounced against their parent’s hands in fidgety excitement; I was one of those.
Minnette MeadorPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesThe Year of El Diablo
Some stories need to be told. They become legendary and passed from generation to generation. It's how we learn about our ancestors, our family before us, and we pass those stories to our children and grandchildren, and these stories get told to the generations after them. Growing up, I had uncles with nicknames like Killer Quintero and Big Al from Alisal. Even I was blessed with a handle, Paula Mae, for my Ellie Mae Clampett ways.
Paula CushmanPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesMom's Imagination
Walking on one of the wooded trails around my older son's school, I noticed a man corralling a child that resembled my toddler, clothes and all. They were on the trail a small distance above mine separated by a ravine. I was not sure about the accuracy of my increasingly-aged vision, but nevertheless hurried to reach the trail head where we would both merge upon the parking lot. Now obviously I knew I had safely dropped my toddler off at his preschool that morning, but still wondered why was there such a striking resemblance? As I drew near, I noticed the bleached-blonde-haired gentlemen hastily packing the child into the passenger front seat. My heart began to settle since I realized the child was a bit older and not my son, but I continued to approach anyway. The man slammed the door to the silver Volvo wagon with slightly tinted glass and executed a quick jog to the driver's side. As I emerged upon the road, they drove past me. I noticed that the boy in the front seat was around six, however, as I scanned the back seat passengers of the passing car, I did see my beloved toddler strapped tightly in the driver's side back seat, his expression marked with a curiosity of "where am I going". PANIC! I could not believe what I was seeing! It was him! I started chasing the car and tried to retain every bit of information I could. Driver - man in his late thirties, beach bum style hair and clothing, approximately 5'11" and slightly stocky. The car color, year and license plate with only a local dealer's advertisement were burned into my memory. I continued to pursue the car and as it sped from the scene, the sinking feeling of helplessness weighed on me as my running gave out to a crumpled defeat. I didn't want to stop the chase for I would lose sight of the direction, yet I needed to call someone in the seemingly vacant neighborhood to launch the Amber Alert and summon the police. I screamed for help. "Please someone help me!" I began to cry, sobbing and shouting "No! No! No!"
Sherri L DoddPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesTravel Is No Cure for the Mind
At this very moment, you'll be here: Or you'll be here: Or here: But maximum possibly, you’re likely right here:
Joe WalterPublished 2 years ago in Families6 Types Of People Who Give Unsolicited Parenting Advice
Unsolicited advice is one of my biggest pet, peeves. Oh great, you have the number of a good house cleaner, and you're texting that to me as you stand in my "filthy" living room.
Katharine ChanPublished 2 years ago in FamiliesPablo Neruda and the Supersonic Rocket Ship
I Sometimes my accent goes a little off and I have to shake myself like a coughing radio and pray the syllables align. Sometimes they don’t, and then