Happy Halloween

Don't ya just love Halloween? It's that special time of year when it's perfectly normal to go out in a Ninja Turtle costume and start kicking the crap out of a helpless Ghoul. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=buPkcVORYpQ

Melon Heads

Everyone has had a Homer moment where Doh! is the first expression that comes to mind. But then there are those of us who have magnified Homer moments, something that I'll call a melon head minute for the purpose of this blog. A melon head minute is usually more embarrassing than a Homer moment and it quite frequently follows heavy drinking. It's nothing to be proud of, but it does lead to a good story or two. I have had my share of melon head minutes and a few of my friends continue to be practicing melon heads. We live, we learn, we repeat. We may not be the brightest in the room, but I can guarantee that we are having the most funN.

Homer Moment	Melon Head Minute
After taking a salty bite out of your homemade cookie you realize that you either confused teaspoons with tablespoons of salt or you used baking soda when the recipe called for baking powder.	You and your pals come home from a night out and decide to make some of those canned biscuits. Several hours pass and you are awakened by the blaring sound of a smoke detector. Your now well-done biscuits resemble little dollops of coal which can be used to power an entire city.
You realize that you just locked your keys in the car.	While pumping gas you frantically realize that you locked your keys, your cellphone and your 2 year old in the car.
You get halfway to work and realize that you forgot to buckle-up.	You get halfway home and as you glance in the rear view mirror you notice something odd about your toddler. He either grew a few inches in last 20 minutes or he's standing in his carseat!!
You take a friend on a boat ride and cause them to spill their drink when you suddenly engage the motor.	You put the boat into reverse and cause someone to nearly disembowel himself as he lands on top of a long neck bottle. (You heard it correctly… right up the pooper…)
After driving a few miles from home you realize that you forgot to pack your son’s diapers.	After driving a few hours from home you realize that you left your son’s entire suitcase next to the front door.
You accidentally let your grandson’s new pet lizard loose in the house.	You accidentally fry your son’s new pet lizard after putting its cage outside so that it could bask in the sunlight (no honey, it’s not dead… it’s just in shock…)
You fall asleep on the taxi ride home.	You (Delta Burke) and your sick friend (Tom Petty) pass-out in a parked taxi that you are convinced is a stretch limo. Once you wake you argue over whether it’s a taxi or a limo then realize that it doesn’t matter because it’s not going anywhere and you are miles from home. As you start walking the city streets in search of a pay phone you suddenly realize that it’s 6:00 AM, you have no cash and you are still dressed in your Halloween costumes…
You park your car in front of one of the many department stores at the mall. When you leave the mall, you can’t find your car and start to panic. Suddenly you realize that you are in front of the wrong department store.	You park your car in downtown Royal Oak, then after several drinks you decide to walk to a friends house. The next day you walk back to where you think your car is, but you cannot find it. When you finally do find it, you cannot get in it because your drunken friends who were sleeping in the taxi had your keys and they left them in the taxi…
You parked your newly washed car under a tree and the next day you find that the birds were using it for target practice.	You park your shiny black convertible on a steep incline and you neither leave it in gear nor engage the emergency brake. As you saunter toward the dock, you sense that something is following you. As you look over your shoulder, you see your car rolling slowly toward the boat ramp (thankfully you were quicker than that car … this time).
After leaving a restaurant you realize that you under tipped the server by a couple bucks.	You generously throw a 5-dollar bill into one of those group tip jars, and then suddenly realize that it was actually a 50.
You get on an elevator that is going up and you wanted to go down.	You, your friends and your entire luggage are crammed into a small hotel elevator that doesn't seem to be going anywhere. You can see out, but the doors won’t open. Someone has to be called to get you out. The repair man arrives 20 minutes later and promptly gets the doors open, then he smugly points toward a sign next to the elevator that reads "The elevator is broken, sorry for any inconvenience." Too bad for you, that the sign was written in German.

Now That's Amusing

A couple of weeks ago I created the above smiley with nothing but my son's doodle pad and a simple pencil. In and of itself the smiley doesn't have any interesting story behind it; rather it was simply something that I did to amuse myself for a few hours.

It is a fact that what amuses one will certainly bore another to tears. Point in case, while I enjoyed the monotony of making the above smiley, my husband would have rather used the pencil to stab his eyes out. While we all share some basic concepts of what we find amusing (humor, music, literature, movies, baby animals, sports, games, food etc.) the degree of amusement varies once you break the surface.

I recently discovered that some of the odd things that amuse my little boy also amuse my husband, probably because it triggers a memory from his own strange boyhood.

Simple things, magical things and strange things easily entertain our son. While most things that he finds amusing are humorous to both my husband and I, the strange things tend to leave me feeling as if I'm not part of a super secret club. When something strange occurs, I nod my head and wonder "why?" Whereas my husband has a glint in his eye and a "knowing" nod that seems to be saying "ah yes, I remember doing that." For example, I went to empty the trash can in our powder room and noticed about an inch of yellow liquid pooling in the bottom of the liner. I knew what the liquid was without having to think too hard and I immediately went to talk to its source.

Me: "Have you been peeing in the trash can?"
Son: Says not a word, but guilt is written all over his face and he's looking down at his toes.
Me: "I asked you a question, have you been peeing in the trash can?"
Son: In his most quiet voice, "No..."
Me: "I know Daddy didn't do it and Riley (the dog) didn't do it, so who did it?"
Son: Still looking down, but now he's fidgeting, "It must have been the cats."
Me: "I know the cats didn't do it. Who do you think did it?"
Son: No Response
Me: Growing impatient, "It's not nice to lie. Why did you pee in the trash can?"
Son: No Response
Me: "Have you been peeing in any other trash cans?"
Son: "Well.... when I was in timeout I may have..." he had stopped talking, but his eyes told the rest of the story as they moved toward the little blue bucket next to his dresser.
Me: Walking over to the bucket and discovering dried pee at the bottom I said again, "Why are you peeing in the trash cans?"
Son: Giving me direct eye contact and trying to sound matter of fact, "I had to go to the bathroom and I didn't think you would let me out of time out... so I went in the trash can."
Me: "What? That's disgusting, I would never keep you from going to the bathroom?" I then left his room to check the trash can in the upstairs bath and shouted, "Oh Gross" as I recognize the tell tale signs of urine at the bottom of the can. I am now exasperated to the point that I need to pull my husband away from his movie and ask him to speak to his son.
Husband: In his stern father voice says, "Why have you been peeing in the trash can?"
Son: "I don't know."
Husband: "That's not an answer. You can stay in timeout and think about it some more."

After 10 minutes and three attempts, my husband came to find me and as he recounted the reason our son was peeing in the trash cans, I swear I saw a glint in his eye and perhaps a trace of a nod.

Husband: "Why have you been peeing in the trash can?"
Son: "Well, um, I thought it seemed like it would be sort of fun."
Husband: “Now that’s a reasonable answer. Just don’t do it again.”

Signs, Signs...

Last week my Family and I took a road trip from South Carolina to Michigan. We traveled through 7 states in less than 24 hours and as our son watched Peter Pan for the 3rd time in a row, my husband and I chatted about various things, including some of the usual and the not so usual road signs that litter the highway. After 7 days, we made the return trip to South Carolina and I think we are all pretty pooped mentally and physically. I don't have the will power to write a story today, but I did create a smiley using some of the content taken from the numerous signs that I saw while traveling. ~ Enjoy ~

For Beavis - Yes, yes, fire, fire, fire

Do campfires bring out the pyro in everyone or is it just me? Isn't it unnatural to sit around a campfire and not poke and prod it with a firestick? (firestick: a stick deemed worthy of poking, prodding and/or stirring a fire.)

Not always the brainiac, I once fell into a campfire while poking at it, but that's another story... I'll just say it was my bachelorette party and I did not get burned, but I did get some pretty bad bruises.

This charred beauty was made while camping with friends sometime in May. Although it may not look like it, we had a torrent of rain that weekend, so we only had one puny campfire before the monsoon hit. As you can probably tell, I doctored the image by placing a black outline around the chunks of burned wood. I know, I know - doctoring the image makes it lame... but I don't have any more smiley images at this point in time, so it's this or nothing.

Camp Rain-A-Lot

Just before Memorial weekend, my family and some friends went on a short camping trip at Table Rock, SC. All week before the trip, the forecast called for rain, and as the weekend approached, my excitement turned to dread. Our friends said "Don't worry, we have tarps and if it rains, it will still be fun." So with the fun-factor clarified, I dutifully packed everything necessary to live outside for the weekend and tried to look on the brighter side.

We arrived at the park near dusk, setup our smallish tent then began to cook our tinfoil wrapped dinner. After dinner we grouped around the campfire and toasted (burned) some marshmallows, and for 30 minutes or so it seemed that everything would be hunky dory.

As it began to sprinkle we folded our chairs and put them in the car to stay dry, then we made our way to our smallish tent with its queen size mattress, 2 adult sleeping bags, one pint size bag, and one largish damp dog.

At first the sound of tiny raindrops pitter-pattering against the tent was very soothing. It could be compared to an international coffee commercial, where little things like a crummy cup of coffee make you feel all warm and cozy inside. Personally, the rain lulling me to sleep is much better than sickly sweet coffee, but who am I? "I'm Johnny Cochran in a knit cap..." (I couldn't resist...)

As I tossed and turned again and again, I noticed that the raindrops seemed to be larger and falling at a much faster pace. Within minutes it had gone from a lite shower to a heavy downpour. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. Once while trying to find the evasive comfy spot, I bumped the side of the tent and with that I became preoccupied with how wet I was going to be if I did it again.

At some point during the night I had to go to the bathroom, but I ignored the urge for hours because If I didn't, that would mean I'd have to go out and risk getting soaked to the bone. At sunrise I felt damp (from the humidity, not pee...), uncomfortable and sleep-deprived, but the rain had slowed so I bolted toward the community bathroom, or maybe it was the woods... Anyway, while walking back toward the tent, I noticed that our friends were up and about and soon learned that they too had a bad night. While they had the comfort of a pop-up, it had sprung a leak and soaked their mattress.

After some hot coffee and a tasty breakfast we set about making a shelter with the "tarps" that our friends had mentioned. Our spirits lifted as the rain slowed then stopped and we took that as a sign to go on a short hike. While walking, we found a pavilion that boyscouts and other campers use on organized trips. The pavilion was locked, but it had a large veranda and we half joked about moving our tent / pop-up to the porch. As we strolled back to our camp, it started to rain again but thankfully, the deluge didn't inundate us until after we were under the sacred tarps that were sure to keep things fun.

It rained torrentially for the rest of the morning and spending the day under the tarps (or in our cars) was becoming inevitable. It was nearly impossible to keep ourselves, 3 small children and 1 largish dog from getting wet. Fortunately, our friends had a couple of portable heaters that helped to dry little socks and dog fur. As the kids colored we ate, drank and talked, but mostly we sat there and tried to keep our sense of humor.

The words "It will still be fun" echoed in my ears and I have to admit that constantly rearranging tarps to account for leaks and emptying the large pools of water that collected was a little entertaining, but mostly in that I'm so bored I could pick a scab sort of way. We were all starting to get a little edgy around 3:00 Pm and by 3:30 we decided to leave no matter what. Then as if on queue, the heavens parted and gave us one last dry spell to pack-up our possessions as quickly as possible.

While this trip won't go down as one of my most fun outdoor experiences, it was not a complete failure. Being trapped under a tarp for several hours lead to decent conversations, good eat'n and during one dry spell, I was able to entertain the kids by getting them to help me find acorns and pine cones to make this rain-drenched smiley.

Nature's Art

A few months ago, I went to look at the smiley that I'd previously made from field stones. To my surprise, I could no longer see the stone smiley because the grass in and around it had grown to nearly 4 feet tall. Anyway, I'm fascinated with the symmetry that can be seen in nature, and I picked a bunch of the grass specifically the stalks, thinking that it would make an interesting smiley.

Besides stalks of wheat or grass, some of my other favorite things to look at are: turtle shells, octopus tentacles (the suckers are so cool), a multi layered zinnia, sea urchins, the inside of a kiwi (the fruit, not the New Zealander) fish scales, and fiddlehead ferns.

Procrastination & Such

My digital camera has recently started to beep frantically and display a rotten E18 error which has prevented me from being able to take new pictures or download old images. This annoying snafu has kept me from experiencing my full creative potential over the last month (or so) but more importantly, it has kept my audience (1.4 readers) from being able to enjoy some entertaining banter.

Actually, that's a load of crap. While I am getting a E18 error and it is causing a problem, I do happen to have a couple images reserved on my hard drive and I could have used them, but I didn't. Why? Because I'm a tad uninspired and I'm blaming it on the heat.

It's basically summertime in the South and the temperatures are soring. The conditions are ripe for a computer virus and I've been infected. After sitting in front of my computer for more than a few minutes, my eyes glaze over and I start thinking about other chores that I could be doing. My priorities have become loopy and the next thing you know, I'm outside picking Japanese Beetles off my trees and shrubs (then stomping on them or throwing them into a soapy water grave). When I'm not killing beetles, I can be found weed whipping (my yard is too small to mow), hunting toads with my son, or swimming in the pool. So you see with all this outdoor activity, I'm much too busy to be blogging.

OK - I've dished up another plate of stink. Enough is enough - It's time for a post, even if the content doesn't go with the image. Today's post is dedicated to procrastination and a meaningless smiley made from Easter candy.

The Kirby Experience

A crew of Kirby salespeople interrupted my lunch today. and just in case you don't know what Kirby salespeople sell, lemme tell ya… They push vacuums… expensive vacuums … to the tone of two sucking grand. Their salespeople will tell you that they are more than a vacuum, they are an entire cleaning system, but let’s face it, it’s mainly a vacuum and at two grand a pop, it should come with a key, a cup holder and free oil changes.

It all began when two women arrived at my door from out of the blue. I was immediately suspicious of them, but when they gave me a roll of paper towel for free, I let my guard down. Who could blame me, it was Bounty after all, and I swear it was only for 20 seconds.

As it turned out, the length of time did not matter because they were charlatans with expertise in all the 'foot in the door' tricks. Their slight of hand illusion had left me dumbfounded and before I fully understood what was going on, they were in my living room calling their posse on speed dial. “This is Marie1 to Donny1, the fish is in the net. We have been given an all clear to bring in the system. I repeat, bring in the Kirby.”

Suddenly two men surfaced out of nowhere and like a swat team with weapons pulled, they moved through my living room with purpose. It was with great enthusiasm that they assembled hoses with elbows and nozzles and filters, and it was not long before this pile of unknown stuff started to resemble a shiny aluminum alloy cleaning system. The flurry of activity must have been a cue for the women to leave and within seconds, they were gone just as quickly and silently as they had arrived. Those shifty tarts had duped me then left me alone with Cousin Cletus and Uncle Fester. Could this annoying experience get any worse?

I patiently sat through the explanation of the Kirby’s main components and countless configuration options. Over 30 minutes had passed and the real demonstration had not yet begun. At about this point, I stopped being annoyed and started to relax, for I knew that after a little suffering, it would be me who would get the last laugh.

The Kirby wonder vac 2000 must have over a hundred uses and Cousin Cletus was intent on showing me every dern one. He mentioned that the on/off switch had a warranty of something like a bazillion clicks, which was good for them considering the amount of times he turned it on/off. Cousin Cletus admitted that as part of his demo, he needed to have 50 used filters on display. So after vacuuming a few seconds he would turn the machine off then change the demo filter, then turn it back on again, and again, and again...

This must have gone on for another thirty minutes or so as he vacuumed one 2’ x 3’ area of my carpet. Several demo filters and many carpet fibers later I said, “ya know… I’m not going to buy this thing.” Which is when he insisted on demonstrating the carpet washer / scotch guardy thingy. After another 15 minutes I chirped sweetly, “This is really nice, but does it come in light blue?” With that said, we all understood that no deals would be made and within minutes the rest of my carpet was vacuumed and washed without conversation.

As Cousin Cletus and Uncle Fester repackaged the many components, I tried to soften the rejection by asking to keep the piles of used filters to show my husband how well it sucked. Sensing another foot in the door opportunity, they were only too happy to comply. Then with shoulders slumped and head lowered, Uncle Fester asked to use the phone to call-in the posse. It was time to let them know that the fish had left the net. “Marie1? Ya, this is Donny2, all systems are down and we are ready to leave the building.”

So - even though I sat through a really boring and lengthy demo with a couple of oddballs, patience paid off in the end. My carpet was vacuumed and washed at no cost or labor to me, plus I have a free roll of Bounty, and I have a nice smiley to boot. Thanks Kirby.

The Mikey Chronicles - #1

This fruity smiley is dedicated to my fruitcake of a brother - Michael.

On a sweltering August day my little brother made his way out of the womb and into the harsh reality that my sibs and I call family. As the youngest of 5, he would soon learn the pecking order, but only after we allowed him a few years of baby bliss; that gentle period in his life where we all adored the little piglet of a brother named Michael.

They say that children don't remember much before the age of 3 or 4 and in Michael's case, this is really too bad because it was during his first few years that we whole-heartedly loved and respected him. If he had known better, he may not have chosen to speak considering that once he learned to talk, or talk back rather, the grace period would be over.

At first, I was a an affectionate big sister who adored the chubby mass better known as Mikey (AKA Michael, AKA Piker, AKA Motormouth, AKA Dorkbreath). However, sometime after he turned three, I started to use him to amuse myself.

In my pre-teen years I loved to play dress-up and my toddler of a brother was only too happy to be my model. With a touch of make-up, a frilly dress and my mother’s hairpiece, Michael became Michelle and he/she/it seemed to enjoy the attention as I gleefully paraded him around the neighborhood in his little red wagon. And even though he was small, he didn’t show any signs of weakness as he held up a big sign that read, “Women’s Lib is #1.” Along with the sign, I would have had him singing Helen Reddy's "I Am Woman" but he was still a year or two shy of being able to memorize anything more than a few words. Instead, I settled for something more age-appropriate like, “Two, four, six, eight, women’s lib is really great.” which he was perfectly able to recite on queue and on key.

I'm pretty sure that Michael does not remember any bit of this experience, but he often relives it through me as I thoroughly enjoy recounting the precious details for him. My only wish is that I had some pictures to go with this story to taunt him further.

Mikey, now 35 or so, has two children of his own and they are both girls. He’s still playing dress-up, but the hairpiece doesn’t get much use anymore, and that’s ironic because now he could really use it.

Crazy Days FuNN

Some friends sent me this picture of them having fuNN while at Crazy Days (Boyne Mountain, Michigan). I haven't been to Crazy Days in years and honestly, I don't miss it all that much...

--- During Crazy Days ---

The locals seek shelter

Slurred speech is a dialect

It's perfectly acceptable to pee near the woods, not necessarily in the woods

People will wear just about anything... bunny suits, fairy outfits, bikinis, cow suits, Santa Claus suits, raccoon hats...

Skiing is a means to get you to the bar, and/or outhouse

Company vehicles, snowbanks and tow trucks are the holy trinity of negative consequences

It is inevitable that someone will wake up on a bathroom floor smelling faintly like the contents of their last meal

A shot or beer may be considered sustenance

The fear of liability and litigation are gleefully unrepresented

It’s All Relative

A few days ago, my husband and I hosted Easter dinner for more than 25 family members, many of which stayed a couple nights. This crazy and exhausting adventure has taught us the following:

1. Two 4-year olds can bicker more than their parents


2. Kitchens should have maximum quantities, similar to hot tubs and elevators


3. There's never enough coffee or bathrooms


4. Helpful guests will rearrange your stuff


5. Bedtimes are a misnomer


6. The more you want to be heard, the louder you get


7. If my family was on Survivor and my house was the island, I’d vote to kick-off the early risers first, regardless of how young they are


8. Accidents will happen at the table, in the bathtub, in the hallway, in the bedroom...


9. Sisters will raid your closets; brothers will raid your beverages


10. Little boys pee everywhere, in the toilet, on the toilet, all over the floor…


11. If your brothers / brother-in-laws are bored enough, they'll do anything... landscaping, car repairs, dishes, sweeping, vacuuming…


12. Competitive kickball isn't such a good idea for 4 year olds or 40 year olds


13. If two little boys can destroy a room, imagine what 7 boys and 2 girls can do


14. Laughing at your family is fun, laughing with your family is more fun


15. Prolonged sleep deprivation makes me edgy in the not so cool sort of way


16. Two air mattresses are better than one


17. Headphones are a blessing


18. Booze makes everything better


19. Closets are dark and peaceful places


20. 29 people in one house just might be 19 too many

For Uncle Tom

Duping Grandma

About a week ago my son Oliver hit the mail jackpot when we received a toy catalog from Target. He didn’t need to ask who this priceless piece of mail was for; rather he knew that anything containing pictures of toys must belong to him. After settling into a comfy chair he began to carefully page through the catalog in a trance-like state. Then once he reached the end he started over again, but this time he stopped to show me the toys that he was exceptionally fond of and “needed to have.”

The most desired toy on Oliver’s list was the pinart toy and fortunately for him, Grandma was coming to visit in less than a day. Grandmas are natural suckers for their sweet little grandsons, especially when their grandsons are experts at playing the manipulation game. After some giant hugs, gentle kisses and well practiced words, my charming son was able to lure his Grandmother to Target so that he could collect his booty.

Oliver now owns this pinart toy and he has not stopped playing with it. At first, like most people, he used his body parts to make art, and then he moved on to using other toys to make shapes in the pins. He now treats the toy more like an instrument and constantly flips the thing back and forth so that the plastic pins go in and out sounding much like a baby’s rattle….I think I could tolerate it more easily, if it truly were a rattle. Thanks Grandma….

Addicted to Dissections

Being a Jigsaw puzzle addict, I can sit and put a puzzle together for hours without ever getting bored and sometimes when I go to sleep at night, I dream of sorting pieces by colors or shapes. When I have a puzzle going, I’ll often work on it when I should be doing other things like showering, eating or sleeping and my mantra becomes “I just want to find one more match.”

Once the puzzle is finished, I feel a bit of accomplishment followed by the compulsive desire to start another one as soon as possible. After going through a few days of withdrawal I can sometimes kick the habit for a couple of weeks, maybe even a month, but eventually my puzzle obsession wins over and I become preoccupied with looking for my next score. At first I'll only talk about working on a puzzle that I already own and have completed before, but then I'll fall completely off the wagon and find myself making any excuse to go to a store with a toy isle. Once I have my $4.00 fix (I’m a cheap addict), I head for home and the sorting begins.

It’s comforting to know that I’m not alone in my habit. There are many others like me and you’ve probably seen one or two without knowing. The next time you go to Denny’s, Applebee’s or Red Robin look for the fairly normal person sorting sugar packets. The act of sorting sugar packets alone doesn’t really prove anything, but if you see them carefully arranging the packets until they fit together perfectly … you may want to run.

Interesting tidbits about the Jigsaw Puzzle:
The first Jigsaw puzzle was created around 1760 and back then they were called Dissections. The term Jigsaw puzzle did not come about until around 1880.

Jigsaw puzzles were primarily used as a teaching aid until about 1820.

Working on a Jigsaw puzzle is an excellent way to reduce stress.

Make Way for the Easter Bunny

I am a self-confessed candy packrat. I still have candy from Halloween, Christmas, Valentines Day and up until my recent refrigerator cleaning, I still had some of those multicolored, foil-wrapped chocolate eggs from last Easter! Today these old sweets are going to meet Mr. Trash Can but it will not be in vain for some. For today I dedicate the smiley to the conversation heart (or as they were originally called, the Motto heart).


A Conversation Between Heart's
Be Mine Lover Boy, cause You & Me have Magic. I’m So Fine and You’re an All Star who hit a Home Run when you found this Cutie Pie. Dear One you make me Smile with all your Sweet Talk, and you’d better Be True when we are apart. Remember our First Kiss, Dream of your Nice Girl and come Home Soon, because you’re So Fine and I Miss You Angel…

I think I'm going to throw-up…

$2.49

I lived in Ottawa, Canada for about 2 years and made some good friends at the expense of constantly being harangued about how Canada is so much better than America. Sometimes the rhetoric that flew my way was deserved, but other times, it was how you say – retarded….

For example, it is a fact that many of our highways are littered with burned out mattresses and abandoned vehicles (especially around Detroit where I previously lived for many years). It’s also true that many of our national beers taste like water, but after you’ve had 6, who cares what they taste like? It's not exactly true that you can buy guns at a 7-11. Duhhh!! Every good American knows that if you want guns, you have to go to Safeway…

A simple comparison that I once heard (but wasn’t so sure about) had to do with the lowly penny. The claim was that the Canadian penny is worth more than the US penny because it contains more copper. I never saw any factual evidence to support this claim, so I tucked the tidbit away for future pondering. While making today’s smiley, I thought about the penny conversation again and decided to see what I could find on the internet in relation to copper content. Before reviewing the results, it’s worth noting that the copper content in both the US Penny and the Canadian Penny has varied greatly over the years.

Canucks
1858 – 1941 the Canadian Penny was at least 95% copper
1941 – 1982 the Canadian Penny was 98% copper
1997 – 1999 the Canadian Penny was a mere 1.6% copper
Today, the Canadian Penny is a whopping 4.5% copper (plating)

Yanks
1793 – 1836 the US Penny was 100% copper
1837 – 1856 the US Penny was bronze
1857 – 1863 the US Penny was 87.5% copper
1864 – 1942 the US Penney was bronze
In 1943 the US Penny was zinc plated steel
1944 – 1982 the US Penny was 95% copper
Today the US Penny is a scanty 2.5% copper

So there you have it, the Canucks were correct; since 1997 the Canadian Penny contains almost double the amount of copper as the US Penny.

Before today there was a time when I tossed my foreign pennies aside. To me, the Canadian penny didn't have enough weight and the look and feel said “I’m not worthy of your American pockets.” Then when you dropped it on the ground, it made a hollow clinking sound vs. the substantial tingling sound that a heavy American penny makes when it's dropped. Today I have a new found respect for the Canandian penny. Now that I know it contains nearly double the copper, I'll make sure that it never gets tossed aside again. Seriously, copper is currently selling for something like 12 cents an ounce and prior to 1997 (which isn't that long ago), the Canadian penny contained 98% copper. Perhaps I should go back and check the mint dates on Mr. Smiley’s smile. :)

Mr. Smiley’s Penny Content
Head: 178 US ting-a-ling Pennies
Eyes: 36 US Penny’s
Smile: 35 Canadian clink-a-dink Pennies.
Total: $2.49

Note: The copper content data listed above was lifted from Wikipedia

Petal Power

Gerber Daisies are one of my favorite flowers and recently I've taken to the habit of buying myself a bunch each time I go into Blooms. It's a $4.00 splurge that brings me great satisfaction each time I see them sitting in the middle of my black table - and if you have the straw like tubes to support the daisy's stem, you'll find that your Gerbs will last about 2 weeks or so. Sadly, my bright orange and pink bundle is - slash that -- was on its last leg and I took it as an opportunity to make some more eco art. Today's smiley is dedicated to the unpretentious Gerber.

Lifelist Item #12

With the encouragement of a friend, I created a life list on Monday July 14, 2003. I know the exact date because my list was written on the back of one of those daily menus that you get in a dark, windowless pub. Once completed, I placed my life list in a pocket within my wallet and it has remained there ever since. I have pulled it out now and again and I laugh each time I read item #7 - Swim with Dolphins. If I were still 12 years old, this might be cool, but at 41, it's a little dorky. I shake my head every time I read item #4 - Visit every continent. How much alcohol could I have drank to make me think that this would be desirable? Why would anyone want to go to Antarctica... a place where your eyeballs can freeze within seconds? But then I get to item #8 - Go to the symphony, and I think, why haven't I done that yet? Similarly, I still want to do item #5 - Speak a foreign language fluently. (but I don't even know where my German Cd's are anymore)... Anyway, when I peruse my list, I see that in between the crazy, alcohol induced items, I still have some legitimate items that I want to complete, even if I have to cheat just a smidge.

Before I go on, I'd better back up a little and be clear; this blog isn't about my life list, but it does have to do with an item on my life list. More specifically, this blog will help me to complete item #12 - Create a piece of art that is recognized by the public.

How will this blog help me to complete Item #12?
Well, first and foremost, this is a public blog containing artistic things made by moi...

Secondly, I live in a newer sub that's located out in the country and only a third of the homes have been built so far. There's still a wide open field in the back of the sub and my family enjoys using this space to walk our dog and to allow our child to live-out some of his boyish adventures.

This area has rolling hills, a sprinkling of trees, large holes the size of a pond, and a kazillion rocks poking out of the ground. It's a fun place to explore, no matter the age and someone with a creative mind and a little time on their hands could if they so desired, create some fun eco-art with nothing but rocks and a large swath of grass. Perhaps a giant smiley face is just what the neighbors ordered.

My smiley face is located on a small hill and it's sort of a work-in-progress. I made it in one day, then I thought that it should be bigger, so I made it twice as big the next day. I still think it needs to be bigger, but for today, I'm satisfied and now that pictures of it are in my blog... I think I can check off Item #12... It may not be art to all, but surely to some, if only to my family and I.

What's Next?
I'll continue to make artistic stuff in the shape of a smiley face and I'll write short snipits to go with the image. My hope is that future posts will contain various images of smiley faces, some that I've made, some that are the courtesy of others. Some smileys will be significant in size, some may have an unusual location. Some faces may be detailed, others will be simplistic, but all will be smiling.