The Good Old Duck Days

I have many posts to catch up on, and perhaps tonight is the night when I will finally do that, but what I am about to post for you now is so positively delightful it couldn't wait for one more second. Not one more I tell you.

Now I should preface this by saying, it is probably only delightful to you if your name is Quinn, or was at one time.

Last night I found several old Family Game Night performances from Duck Beach. If you are a reader unfamiliar with QFGN, well, I assure you that you should invite yourself to one immediately. I will also tell you that it involves less "games" and more performances. And I will also tell you that said performances involve ZERO, maybe even sub-zero talent. But plenty of heart. Not a songbird amongst us.

A little context.

The first video clip is my sister Kristin. The task was for each member of the family to write a blog post for my parents who were in Australia so that they could feel like they were with us. My thought was that each person might share a story or an activity they enjoyed. You'll see what matters most to Kristin soon. And whether you get that level of hilarity or not, if you don't laugh along with this video, something is SERIOUSLY wrong with you. I'm not even kidding...you're ill.



The second video is Travis' blog post. The context needed here is that Abram (my brother in law) is called The Sand Warrior at Duck beach for his great horse shoe prowess. A game my brothers were only just introduced to apparently.



The final one combines the skill and wit of both Travis and Kristin with the added bonus of my 1/160 Native American sister in law Lisa. They were supposed to come up with a song about the stuff they liked best at Duck Beach that week. I especially like the clever choreography, the set up, and the, er, politically correct platform.

Making it Personal

I am reminded of an event back in 1987, when our family van/bus got caught inadvertently in the middle of a small town parade in Hell, Michigan.

My dad joyously shouted out for all the kids to wave to the crowds, acting like we belonged and enjoying the attention. My mom alternated between participating (out of obligation to the cheering crowds) and turning towards my dad, hiding her face and saying, "Oh Bob!"

I now know what that felt like. To be two parts ashamed, and one part secretly delighted.

At the U of M, U of U basketball game we attended Travis became Bob, and I was Delsa. We were seated on the floor, right behind the bench. Above us and to the right was the U of U student section. There was one particularly obnoxious boy wearing Wrangler jeans and a big old buckle, who kept taunting the bench and making comments to us as well.

Travis finally turned on him, and I assume because he was lacking RELEVANT material due to the fact that Michigan was losing, screamed at the kid, "Nice Belt Buckle!"

The kid became enraged and turned his attention fully to Travis. He made a comment about losing and rather than engage in that (again) RELEVANT debate, Travis shouted (while rubbing and jiggling his belly) "blllbbb, bllbb, bllb...you're FAT! and you're UGLY!"

I was shocked, appalled, (laughing) and hiding my face. The kid was on fire. After several heated returns between the two of them about meeting outside after the game and having some sort of a duel, Travis finally sat down.

I hid my face, Jessica hid her face, and Rotolu came marching over, "Hey Trav - I'm with you if you want to meet him outside." Great. Nothing like turning 30 and really, truly maturing.

blllbb, bllllb, blllb...You're Fat. Who's the idiot from idiot heaven now?

Idiot Heaven

A few weeks ago I flew out to Utah with Rotolu and Ryan to see Michigan play the U of U.

It was FREEZING and there was snow and ice all over the place. As Jessica and were clutching each other and trying not to fall as we ran toward the stadium we passed a 3 foot hill to the right side of the sidewalk, facing a busy road.

There was one kid about 7 years old at the top of the hill, and two other kids at the bottom of the hill. The one at the top of the hill cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled down at the other two something that was odd enough to be said by any kid across the country, but with a definite Utah twist...

"HEY! Hey guys!!"

He goes running down the ice hill at top speed toward the road still screaming, but now with their attention:

"I'm an idiot! From idiot heaven!"

He was so delighted as he did this, and frankly so was I. From that point on, anytime I came in Travis and Jessica's house I announced myself by yelling "Hey guys! It's me! An idiot from idiot heaven!"

I for one am glad to learn that there are different kinds of heaven, and hope that I am not IN idiot heaven, but that I for sure have visiting privileges.

Viva Las Vegas!

I am LONG overdue on posting here. Since a I have a few holiday days free of work, I thought I'd take some time to catch up.

First, Vegas.

I was thrilled to re-connect with the 3 roomates I lived with...I hate to say this...20 years ago. Sigh.




It's hard to imagine that much time passing, and it's even harder to hear stuff come out of my mouth that I used to hear come out of OLD people's mouths when I was a spry 20 year old. Things like "Can you believe how young we looked?" and "When did they start letting high schoolers in to clubs" and of course, "I think I might need a hip replacement."

So yeah, we're old. BUT, the good news is we all still look exactly the same. And we all still act exactly the same. I knew this was true when Merr and Heather were on their way to pick me up at the airport and after arriving, turned around and went back to the hotel without taking me.

Apparently, Becky text messaged them and told them she was at the hotel. Heather for some reason thought Becky was me (not sure why since NAMES come with text messages) and told Merr to turn around. So when I called them and said "I'm here!" They answered, "We know, we're almost back to the hotel." It took about 10 minutes of talking to explain to them who I was, where I was located and for me to understand how they got me confused with Becky. I still don't.

Anyway, it was all good fun and great to stroll down memory lane looking at Heather's old pictures of us. I discovered I used to wear clothes that could have fit 3 people in them, and was reminded of boys I hadn't thought of for ages. Boys who could have prevented this spinster from her current status...and thankfully didn't.


We did hit the nightclubs and party like rock stars, or at least like the real housewives of New Jersey. The Palace and Ivy Tower moves were back in full-effect. And no doubt fully admired. Bless you Facebook for another sweet reunion.

If I only had a brain

Last weekend I was in Lancaster, PA visiting my friends the Baird. I didn't realize until too late that I had packed everything I needed for the trip except my brain. As you might imagine forgetting your brain can lead to some unpredictable events.

Let me share two of my favorites.

After trick or treating with the kids, I was following Sara back to her house. We decided we should go through the Sonic drive through because we were both famished. My car was first, so I placed my order, pulled around, paid for my food, and got my food. Check, check, check. Of course all of this could be considered brain-optional sort of activity so no big panic.

After I got my bag of food I was thinking about how I had to wait for Sara to get hers. I had already made the cashier-lady think I was a little crazy when I pulled around and she told me the price, and I responded with a very serious look, "Oh, you mean you expect money for this food?" HA! HA! HA! One of us thoroughly enjoyed the joke. It wasn't her.

Anyway, I'm sitting in the car, bag in hand, thinking about how I have to wait for Sara so it seemed only natural to start eating. I pulled out an onion ring and started munching happily away. I was perfectly comfortable and thoroughly enjoying myself when I glanced up at the window and noticed the cashier lady giving me a strange look. I smiled at her, waved and even offered her an onion ring. She shook her head, signaled at me to roll down my window and as I did it suddenly dawned on me.

OH. Sara can't get her food until I move out of the space by the window. They don't want me to sit here and eat. Even if I share. Yeah. That wait could have been a very long wait if the cashier lady was a little more accommodating and less confrontational.

It doesn't end there.

The next morning I went out to my car to run to the grocery store when I realized I had forgotten my wallet. I stopped to talk to the neighbor lady who was at her car for a minute. When we finished I turned and ran up to the patio door and opened it.

You can imagine my surprise when I stepped in to the kitchen, shut the door and was face to face with a GIGANTIC man in his boxers. That I didn't recognize.

The funny part is that it didn't really startle me. And I didn't panic or run out. I knew the Bairds were well known for just walking around in their undies, so I was just looking at him trying to puzzle out which Baird this was, and how come I didn't notice him at Chris' house last night in those really large, blue underdrawers.

He was not as calm. He turned on me with a glower and said, "I don't think you belong here."

Rude. I belong everywhere. Recognize.

I raised an eyebrow and calmly replied, "You may be right." Turned. Walked out the patio and saw his wife staring at me from by her car. I realized Chris lived next door. To her I said, "Hey, thanks for the heads up on that one." She just shook her head.

I dunno. I'm pretty sure if I had brought my brain these things wouldn't have happened, but there is another theory circulating that even with a brain people (Delsa) can do things that might simply appear brainless and I may be experiencing a bad case of genetics. Totally NOT my theory mom.

The last event which I would like to think was done without my brain was betting against Chris' dad on the Michigan/ Penn State game. I lost (well Michigan did) and I was forced to don this lovely shirt which Chris' dad gleefully bought for me. If PSU had lost, this life size Joe Paterno figure which stays all season in their front window would have had to wear a Michigan shirt. Ah well...perhaps next year.

Office Rules

Yesterday I was walking along the bottom floor of my office and I passed our newest intern. Being a friendly type of person I said Hello. As I walked by. Not stopping.

He took this as an opening for a conversation and replied to my back, "Hi. How are you?"

OK, so now there's a question and you can't continue on. I slowed my pace, looked over my shoulder and gave the requisite, "I'm fine, how are you?" Not caring of course, but feeling obligated on my way to an important task.

I thought we were done now and kept moving. No. He pressed on saying in a louder voice so he could be sure I heard him as I was putting distance between us, "I'm not that well."

Great. You can't leave THAT alone! Doesn't he know the rules?? The answer is "Good."

"Really?" I shouted back continuing to walk (though more slowly) "What's wrong?"

"Oh, well I have all these canker sores all over my mouth and they really hurt."

At this point he's speaking over about 6 cubicles to where I'm standing some distance from him and sharing the information with just about the whole floor. I'm stumped because now I'm not sure whether to laugh, express sympathy, try to protect him from the scorn of all the eavesdroppers or keep moving.

I seriously have NO idea what you say to someone in this situation because no office acquaintance has ever told me about their mouth sores before, so I pause, look at him and say in my most sincere voice, "That must be quite terrible for you, but at least it you can still talk without too much pain so you can share this burden with others."

No. I didn't. But I thought it, and instead just gave a polite nod, told him I hoped they healed quickly and ran away.

To somewhere that I could laugh alone--the bathroom. Canker Sores!!!

Yoga..Omniscient

Do you ever get the feeling that with all this "virtual" technology and second life stuff that artificial intelligence may be a little more intelligent than we think?

This has been a rough emotional week for me (and Alex now that I know you're reading I'm sorry to say this, but..) because I have been experiencing a little something called Pre-Menstrual Syndrome.

In an effort to combat this, I try to do uplifting things like exercise. Or eat as much chocolate and salt as possible in one sitting.

Anyway, this morning I decided to pull out a new Yoga DVD and give it a whirl. I was about 10 minutes in, and in a rather awkward position very similar to the one above, when the TV yoga lady started talking in an oh-so-soothing voice about how we as women need to center and find peace. She took a breath while I pondered on how she knew I was a woman, and how these cramps were certainly not bring me peace when she continued on to say...

"It is particularly important during the menstrual cycle to rest and connect with our intuition."

WHAT???

How'd she know? And let's say she didn't know, although all signs point to yes, is that not an odd thing to say on a yoga DVD? I mean I'm no expert on yoga (Trust me) but in the few classes I've been to my menstrual cycle has never been mentioned before.

I was so wierded out, I was forced to turn off the TV before she started telling me what was going on with my romantic life and when I would die. My flexibility and peace of mind did not improve today.

I feel sorry for you

Yes, you. The one reading this blog...if anyone still is.

I feel sorry for you, because so many funny, interesting and slightly twisted things have happened in my life over the last two months and you didn't get to hear them.

You have really missed out. I'm just glad I still got to enjoy them so all's not completely lost.

So, I shall attempt once again to get back on the train and share a little piece of me...with you. Let's start with a discovery I made yesterday that prompted me to get back on the train. One of my co-workers and friends, Allison Lazenby had the following conversation with me:

Allison: You haven't written on your blog since the end of July.
Me: True. I apologize.
Allison: My son Alex was looking at his favorite bookmarks and he said, "Mummy (they're Brittish, it's not weird) Shauri hasn't written on her blog since the end of July."

Now if I had known had such amazing fans as Alex, I would certainly have never let this blog thing slide, so Alex--this one's for you. Sending out a HUGE thank you to one of my biggest fans, by posting your lovely picture here and letting everyone know what a fantastic...bloke...you are. (Alex is the very handsome fella with the clenched fist on the left side...Alex, why so angry? Is it the hay bale?)

I would appreciate it though Alex, if you would please make a comment once in a while so I know you're out there and that you still care.

Cheers!

Driving to Duck

I am remiss. I am back.

Let me tell you a story you're all familiar with. It's an oldie, but goodie and it's called, "Family Vacation." You've all done it, you all know what it means. And you all know what happens. In fact, I went to my doctor two days before I left and he asked what I was doing the coming weekend. Here's how our conversation went:

Me: I'm leaving on Saturday for a family vacation. Everyone's flying in.
Doc: Ohhhh....this is when everyone regresses back to their most annoying teenage self.
Me: Actually we intentionally never progressed to make the transition easier.

Point is, he got it. Say family vacation and everyone gets it. Whatever.

Mom, Dad, me, Kristin and her 2 year old daughter Aviva all flew together to Norfolk, VA where we then collected a rental mini-van and began our hour and a half drive to the beach.

About 30 minutes in we realized that the windshield wipers had been running for a while.

"Dad? You wanna turn off the windshield wipers?"

Turns out he did. He just couldn't. Everyone in the car tried to get them off to no avail. OK, fine.

Next thing we noticed was that it was getting steadily warmer. And by warmer I mean SCALDING HOT. Tempers were rising and sweat was running. Voices started getting louder as we shouted for dad to roll down the windows.

Nope. No dice. The electrical system was down and we couldn't get windows down. At that point we started talking about how we were going to die (oh and by the way we're in bumper to bumper traffic and not moving AT ALL) in this heat box. Aviva meanwhile is passed out asleep, probably unconscious.

I tried to push open the back windows that didn't seem to be operated by electricity, but I couldn't get 'em. Kristin came busting back over me and shoved them open.

Shauri: "Wow, you're strong. You'd definitely live in a survival of the fittest situation."

Kristin: (scoffing) "Well I know I'd beat you."

Ouch. True, but ouch.

I won't tell the whole story, but I will say that there was a lot of conversation with Budget rent a car about solutions, a lot of anger and sweat and finally when Aviva woke up about an hour of screaming. I repeat, screaming. Kristin told us the only solution was to sing the farmer in the dell, which I swear we did going through every single animal that ever existed AND THEN my mom started going through the first ones again.

It was a long and painful journey, but not surprisingly, these horrible (in the moment) moments, are the ones that live on as our favorite stories to recount. All I can say is, wait until you hear about the return trip.

The Difference Between Men and Women

I was on facebook a couple of days ago and I saw a guy-friend (sorry Kev-- had to post your pic to make a point) had posted a picture of himself holding his cute little nephew. His nephew looked just like him and was all kinds of adorable. And did I mention he was HOLDING the baby? Big deal, right? Wrong.

Underneath this picture several girls had commented. Most of them were in the same vein as this first comment:

"Have. Mercy. Is THAT what our boys are gonna look like?? Just WATCH how not mad I'll be."

I have to admit, I secretly thought her comment was kind of clever and cute...yeah...sorry. But anyway, the point is that the first thought that came to her mind was this: Cute boy holding cute boy. We could make cute babies together.
(I have to admit my first thought was, why do they both have that shark haircut? Yeah, I'm single.)

So I thought about this.

And here's what I think. If any guy saw a picture of a girl holding a little baby and looking all cuddly with it, what would HE think? I'll tell you.

"RUN!!!"

Because he would think, that girl is baby crazy. She must want to get married and tie me down and make me have kids right away. FEAR.

And here's the thing. He's right. Cause look at that girl's comment. But why OH why...do we think so differently?

The difference between men and women: Babies.