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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Scribble and Scrambles - Rob Speaks

My hubby Rob is sitting next to me and staring over my shoulder as I check my long weekend's worth of communication.
Since I'm still a little punchy from the trip and late/early (whatever you consider two a.m. to be) homecoming, I'm going to let him heckle me and share it with you.

First, he doesn't like the name Scrambled Dregs. I turn and shoot him one dagger (he can't see both eyes) and say. "Hello! It fits me. You know my randomness, lack of focus and easy distractibility?"

"No, I think it should be named 'Sunshiny Day with a Chance of Angry Eyes'."

This is in reference to our fun with threats. We refer to angry eyes and bodily harm often. It's kind of a sick game. One of my favorite things is to get a healthy set of angry eyebrows from one of my family members. Though always in jest, my peeps can each pull off a very crabby countenance.

To picture what this might look like...think big wrinkle in between the eyes and the inner eyebrows nearly meeting while sloping downward. Usually the focus is intense and somewhat beady, and there is likely an exaggerated pout. Angry eyes usually come about when one is bested in a battle of wits or humorous insult.

I suppose this quest for angry eyes comes from my family of origin wherein we love a good pratfall. Couldn't be genetic in Rob, though. His is learned behavior as his family is kind and gentle and asks, "Are you OKAY? Can I get you some ice?" when someone falls. My family gets to that eventually, after all the hooting and giggling dies down to that popcorn hiccup aftershock you get when you've been laughing real hard.

Okay, things have just gone to a different and disgusting level. Youngest daughter heard her father and I laughing so she just joined us with her flatulence machine. Which has inspired Rob to particpate in PETA unapproved cat teasing. Wonder if he'll be sporting any new wounds in the very, very near future?
Hope your Monday is a gas.


<---That Girl said...

*L* sound like good family fun. I really feel we need a photo of you demonstrating said countenance, just for future reference.

Kelly Klepfer said...

I'll see what I can do.