Saturday, December 15

The right mug.

To help get into the Christmas spirit, Tim and I though we should make some wassail. You can go ahead right now and set aside any notion you may have about this stuff, and let me tell you a little bit about why the Franklin way is the only way. It goes a lil' something like this:

1 part apple juice
2 part cranberry (cocktail) juice
Cinnamon sticks
Whole cloves
Red hots
Percolator (you know, that gadget you registered for and never thought you'd use)
The red hots are probably what elevate this beverage to another level; then again, the percolator pretty much keeps it all separated and delicious. Or maybe it's the Starbucks mug. Who really knows. What I do know is you should make some. Now.

Thursday, December 13

5 ACROSS.

Am I the only one confessing their love of crossword puzzles? It's possible I was left with no choice in the matter, but nevertheless, I have a...thing; now let me explain. My late Mimi was a crossword puzzle aficionado. This coming January will be 12 years since her passing; and prior to that, she spent much of my childhood battling Alzheimers. Thus, memories of her are few but precious. And one of those beloved memories is of her working crossword puzzles at the kitchen table. I always thought it was an old person's pastime (read: boring) and who even knows what those clues mean. I'm still unsure of their meaning (at least) 85% of the time, much to my Mother's dismay. You see, the crossword bug hit her, too, but she's been doing them a lot longer than me and she's just annoyingly good at those wordy kinds of things. Memories of high school paper proofreading. So you see, it's part of my heritage. Some people sew, others Polka, we do crosswords. Mom has more recently started copying puzzles from the newspaper and stockpiling them for me. It's a stack of awesomeness with lots of little squares awaiting my pen. And the best part, if I'm being honest, is that they're usually in sequential order which allows me to "check my work." My crossword puzzling skills are much improved, but I have much ground to gain as my legacies are much to live up to- in more ways than one.

Wednesday, December 12

You can't do that.

YOU CAN'T DO THAT. At least that's what the student section says when their opponent does something wrong on the basketball court. And it's kind of hilarious. For example, Team Maverick gets fouled. YOU CAN'T DO THAT. Opponent travels. YOU CAN'T DO THAT. I'm of course talking about the Northwest Tech College's inaugural basketball team. Tim and I went to our first game on Monday evening and we rather enjoyed ourselves. We cleared our burgeoning social calendar so we could go watch the 12 names that appear on the roster, who represent seven different states (including Puerto Rico) and Sweden. Interestingly, none from Kansas. Do you realize what this means? A dozen people made the choice to move far from home to Goodland, America to play ball. All I can say is they were fun to watch and I hope they have felt welcomed in to this community. And as long as Farmer Tim and I can continue to come watch them play and not be the couple of creepers in the corner, we will make it a point to go to some games and support a new program and a group of hardworking ballers. Besides, where else can I get down with my bad self (see clip below of timeout entertainment).




Friday, December 7

funny pack.

fanny•pack |ˈfæni ˌpæk|
noun    a small pouch on a belt, for money and small articles, worn around the waist or hips
Any person who has lived through the 1980s has worn a fanny pack. And if they deny it they are lying. What's not to love about a fanny pack? Just kidding. What I meant to say was, give me one good reason why I should break out my New Kids on the Block fanny pack from 1990...crickets chirping...that's what I thought.          The hard truth we face about the fanny pack is that it just doesn't ever completely go away. Like herpes (too much??). Oh sure, they show up at the usual places: amusement parks, family reunions, Branson, your Mom's closet- I digress. But there I was, minding my own business at the basketball game when it appeared.    May your weekend be fun and fanny pack-free.

Saturday, December 1

When the lights go out...in the bowling alley.

When the clock struck 9pm in Colby, KS last night, things got a little psychedelic- cosmic bowling, baby. Groovy. We hit the town with our friends, Craig and Brittany, for some yogurt before the night got serious and Tim kicked some major tail on the third and final game. We're hardcore. Other than Starbucks being closed when we headed back for home, it was a great evening. I should note that Tim has decided to leave the farm to pursue a career in the Professional Bowlers Association.