Sunday, June 26, 2011

Meet the Fam

(editor's note 12/1...this page is being updated.  new pics will be up, well..."soonish".) Well, I figured it was time for you to meet some of the folks in my life. You know...put some faces to the names. So, without further ado...


My first child. Smart. Too smart for her own good. Unlike most pre-teens that might challenge your authority, Trixie challenges my intelligence. Fortunately IQ test after IQ test, I tend to score at least two points higher than her. As I remind her constantly. To which she follows up, “your score drops the older you get...”

Natalia aka Barbara or Beezer

Your typical pixie. Cute. Sweet as pie one moment. The next? Makes you wish that you, and everyone else in the room, was never born.


The Bart to my Homer. Never saw a bathroom he didn’t like. Plans on being either a rock star or professional wrestler. Either way, I’ll be right behind him. Reminding him that he’s still a doofus.


The enigma of our clan. Slippery as an eel and wily as a fox hopped up on goofballs. If I didn't see him being born, I'd swear he was from another planet.

Kelly Marie

"Baby you're the words and chapters
The sweetness in the morning after
You are the cry that turns to laughter
You're the hope that ends disaster..."


Remember a few years ago that Bischon won the Westiminster Best in Show?  No?  Go ahead.  Look it up…That dog?  Snowflake, a purebred Bischon, looks more like the ugliest dog of 2001.  But, he’s pretty smart looking when he’s wearing a sweater!

The Pope of Cookietown

My brother. Could quite possibly be the strongest man on Earth. Has the strength of ten Grinches, plus two. I’ve seen him pick up three men, twice his size, over his head and throw them 100 ft away into a pool of water. His Kryptonite? Cookies. And his favorite movie is Roadhouse.

The Duchess of Dessert

My brother’s bride. Sweet girl, hasn’t aged an iota in the 15 years I’ve known her. Doesn’t eat any kind of meat product. Although, I think she secretly eats pounds of bacon when no one’s around.


Awwww…ma.  Poor ma.  The super-ego to the rest of our nuclear family’s id.  Had to put up with Pa’s, the Pope’s, and to a lesser extent, my antics all these years.  You know you’ve gone too far  when you hear her scream your name in her famously shrilly way.  But, that doesn’t stop you from trying to get one more zinger in before she comes at you with the obligatory back of the head dope slap.


The quintessential prankster. Just make sure you check behind your tires before you back out of his driveway. Bricks have a tendency to magically appear there.

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