the pukes, lasagna, a heartfelt b-day card, and a sketch

Coach's birthday was Friday. A few days a week he works until 7 or 8, so since his bday landed on a Friday when he's done with work around 3:00 - the possibilities were endless. 

Who am I kidding? Have we met? We're not exactly the type to paint the town red. So endless isn't the right word, but we could make plans. Ed called weeks ago and asked if he was expected to be home for Dad's bday. We're not huge celebrators of birthdays (* I don't think I've ever shared how Coach's 50th was derailed, maybe I'll explain that scenario in an upcoming post, if anyone is interested), so I said that he could probably just stay in the city. 

As the 15th drew near, I contemplated inviting friends to meet us for dinner and/or drinks. Should I invite his sister and her husband (they live about 30 minutes north)? And if I did that, should I invite his brother and his wife (they live about 45 minutes north - not far from Kari from A Graceful Life). Coach does not like surprises and we are going to see his sibs on Thanksgiving. If we lived closer, we'd hang out with them a ton as we all have a great time together. 

I finally asked:  preference? 

Dinner here with as many of the kids as we can get to show up. 

Um, I reached out to Ed. "Can you come home?" He'd made plans to join his girlfriend's family for her sister's bday dinner, but he said he could skip, no big deal. Lad said he'd come after work. Reg was driving home from Indiana, because 

                1. he didn't have a game on Saturday and didn't have to be at practice till Sunday, and 

                2. (most importantly) he was out of home-cooked meals.  

I decided to make Coach's favorite (of my recipes):  lasagna. I made a small sized GF version, **says the happy camper who is only half-assing the low FODMAP diet right now and living to tell about it**. Plus, his favorite:  Cherry Dessert. The lasagna recipe is involved, so it's a time commitment. 

Dinner leftovers shoved to the edge of the
 island so I could continue my mission.

I wanted to surprise him, but it's hard to find a big enough window to accomplish that. We have four fridges, so the hiding I could handle. Thursday evening as I raced around the kitchen, I anticipated Coach walking in the door and seeing me/smelling his fav, but he ended up working longer than expected. So I texted Curly when I was wrapping up: "Come to the kitchen rn!" Curly raced one tray down to the basement fridge and as I was handing off tray #2, Coach walked in. There were pots and pans everywhere and our house smelled like an Italian restaurant. Busted. It's fine. He was still thrilled. 

Rae woke up puking early Friday morning, so she was stuck in her room and missed the dinner. I made enough lasagna to have Lad, Ed, and Reg take some back to their respective houses/apartments. After dinner, Reg sent a picture of the lasagna to his roommate from Italy. 

Roommate:  If I send that photo to my grandma, she's gonna call the police. 

We have enough 'unauthentic' lasagna to enjoy as leftovers later this week. I was nervous that the puke bug would knock out other family members, but no one else got sick. Thank goodness.

Coach doesn't usually want gifts, but everyone makes him a card. Curly presented Coach with a sketch she did in art. She brought in a photo of Coach when he was like 9 or 10, maybe. It turned out amazing. She said when kids at school saw what she was working on, they asked if she was drawing Reg. (he just graduated last year, so many of her classmates know him. Reg definitely has the Shenanigan look).

Quite the likeness, right?

Rae gave Coach a card the next day (see: puke above). She wrote him a note full of gratitude for how he's become the father figure she never had. It was incredibly heartfelt and touching. She gifted me with a moving note on Mother's Day that made me cry. This adoption thing isn't easy, and can be downright exhausting. Then there are moments like a thoughtful note that mean so much, and it renews our energy and serves as a great incentive to keep it up. 

Between the sketch, the limited puking, the lasagna, three boys coming home (6 out of 8 kids home ain't all bad), and Rae's note, I'd say Coach had a pretty decent day. 

********

We had so many other things happen this weekend, I'll share soon. How was your weekend? Do you like surprises? Has anyone ever thrown you a surprise party?  What's your favorite b-day meal? Do you prefer to stay in or go out? 

Coach has NEVER come clean on his spring break '93

Since I shared my spring break '93 saga, I thought I'd share Coach's junior year spring break debacle. His 'situation' also took place in '93, since he's a year younger than me. Look at us, not yet dating, but both behaving as delinquents simultaneously. 

At least for my spring break, I fessed up my plans to my folks  . . . although, I left them fearing that I was dead in a ditch somewhere, undoubtedly wearing underwear with bad elastic and full of holes. Is it just me, or did other people grow up hearing rationale about wearing decent underwear in case, God forbid, there was ever an accident. As a child, my mom bought our underwear, so part of me wonders why I didn't ask:  If you worry about the state of our underclothes in an accident, then why not buy us new drawers more often?

Anyway, Coach was part of a fraternity in college. His leadership role was 'Chaplain'. I think that meant he spoke at chapter once a week, typically making a rhyme to poke fun of his fraternity brothers and their antics for the week. It sounds like he had a more spiritual role, but he was more or less in charge or ramping up everyone's spirit. Pretty sure he sold his position to his folks as one of 'leading the chapter in prayer, etc.'

He knew his parents would never allow him to join his brethren for spring break in Mexico. I think he told them he was staying on campus to run a retreat. Instead, they piled in someone's pick up truck and drove to Mexico. 

They rolled the truck on the way there. Fortunately, no one was hurt. The guys still went to Mexico, but they had to buy flights home. Um, all of them, except Coach. The rest of the guys all chipped in to buy his flight. There was no telling his folks that he was in Mexico and needed a flight home. 

Look at this - I found a
photo of the Pope room.
photo:  compliments Tripadvisor

Years and years ago - when our kids were really small, Coach's sister came in town every summer. This was before cousins had summer jobs and sports, etc. During each of those visits, the adults would go out to eat for a nice meal sans kids. We ate at a place called Buca di Beppo. It's an Italian place with lots of knick-knacks and Italian junk stuff on the walls. We always sat in a small room around a large round table featuring a lazy Susan. In the center, was a replica bust of the Pope's head. 

Someone rotated the Pope until he was facing a specific family member, and then the jokester would use his best ventriloquist voice to pretend to be the Pope and grill the subject about something said person might need to confess.

Coach and his sibs and their teen shenanigans make my sibs and I look like saints. There was a party thrown, and the Pope stared down younger brother about that epic rager. When the Pope rotated to hear what Coach had to say, the siblings rose a knowing-about-spring-break-trip eyebrow, but Coach would NOT divulge the deets on the Mexico trip. No sirree. No matter how much time had passed.

**********

How 'bout you? Anyone have any adventures that you kept from your folks? Did you ever come clean, or did you keep it on the down low? Or did you have friends who had really strict parents? Inquiring minds, and fellow delinquents want to know. 

spring break '93: "I feel like if I DIDN'T do this, you'd be disappointed."

I stop over and visit my folks regularly. The chapters I'm currently working on for my memoir are focused on the trip my dad took my youngest brother, Mike, and my same-age boy cousin, and myself back in 1987. I reminded my dad of a few of those stories when I brought he and Mom pumpkin bread and some leftover breakfast burritos recently. This was the day after we hosted the Creighton kids on their mission trip, so I also shared my funny-ha-ha moment when I told Ms. Hawaii that we'd be updating her on when we could visit Hawaii. He died laughing. 

People, my dad was a notorious grouch when I was growing up. All of my friends were afraid of him. I wasn't. I went toe to toe with him. As the middle child, I felt it was my duty. This is what I told him senior year of college when I called him at work to let him know that I was not, in fact, heading home for spring break. 

This photo actually belongs with my
 last post, but Curly hadn't sent
 it to me yet. Mini:  "Mom, this
 isn't a soup kitchen!"

My friends were waiting for me in the parking lot in a rented car. We were basically poor, but we'd borrowed a tent and hoarded cups of PB&J and pieces of bread from the dining hall. We were driving to Florida from South Bend, Indiana, and we'd be camping at Oscar Scherer State Park. I didn't have permission, but I didn't care. 

"I'm a middle child, Dad. I think you would expect nothing less." 

That day, after I admitted to him my unapproved master plan, I cringed. Holding the phone slightly away from my ear, and squeezing my eyes shut, I waited for the tongue lashing. Instead, much to my amazement, Dad laughed. It was the kind of belly laugh that he rarely directed at something I'd said or done. My brother, Pat, might crack Dad up with his one liners, but me? Dad didn't usually find me entertaining. 

I said good-bye, scooped up my duffel bag, and raced downstairs four flights to the waiting car. My friends had assumed I'd crumble under Dad's wrath and bail on them at the last minute. I jogged across the sidewalk to where they were parked, drumming their fingers on the dashboard. Pumping my fist in the air, I signaled my victory and thus my freedom. The car erupted in explosive celebration as I stuffed by bad in the trunk and squeezed into the backseat. 

Lately, no matter what I tell him, Dad about dies laughing. Coach and I are both in awe. 

Coach:  Your dad is a changed man. What the heck? 

When I revisited our horse pack trip, the one when he bled through his jeans, because his saddle sore was so bad, he held his belly as he laughed. After I described how I intended to worm my way into this Hawaii home, he shook with laughter. "You're killing me, Ernie. You're killing me!"

Keeping with my 'Oops' theme - I don't consider telling Dad I was heading to Florida at the last minute a mistake. It worked like a charm. My mistake . . . this was 1993. There was a terrible storm that hit the south and interfered with our drive back to South Bend. Roads were closed in Atlanta, because the south was ill equipped to manage the icy roads. Hilarity and adventure unfolded when that road closed, but the thing I screwed up:  It never dawned on me to let my folks know that I was fine. There were no cell phones. I didn't think about the fact that my parents were tuning into the national news. Um, AND I wasn't paying attention to the calendar. I missed my mom's March 13th birthday. 

Do you know someone who became more easily entertained and/or a lot less grumpy with age? Did you go out of town while unreachable before cell phones and scare your folks/friends/people? 

Top 5 quotes from last weekend

 Coach's b-day was yesterday.
I made a couple
trays of his favorite, very-involved
lasagna recipe. I'm
hoping to escape
the kitchen/meal prep
duty this weekend
 to tackle my closet and my room.
And maybe I can get Gumby put away.
He keeps popping up in various places
 around the house. Here he is
 exhibiting bad posture at
 my laptop at the snackbar.

A show of hands, who's done hearing about the tailgate? 

Well, I've decided to share my top/ most memorable quotes from the weekend to move things along.

In no particular order:

1.  Curly:  What? We're going straight to the restaurant?

Me:  Um, yeah. Do you not get that we left an hour and a half later than intended?

Curly:  Well, I have to change before dinner. 

This is when I noticed that she'd changed out of the jeans that she'd asked me 'Is this good for dinner?'

Me:  Why'd you change?

Curly:  I'm not wearing jeans in a car for 2 hours.

Me:  Are you two? 

We parked in the little town area across from campus. It was near the restaurant. Curly then wrestled herself into her too-tight jeans in the front seat of GW. Hello friendly neighbors living in the apartments. Don't mind us. Woops - yes, that's my daughter's booty. 

2.  When I spoke to Tank after the tailgate, he called out to one of his friends:

Tank:  Hey, so-and-so, I'm talking to my mom on her new iPhone. Now she can like Facetime us and stuff. Her phone before this was basically a walkie-talkie.

3. I asked Coach to bring me a few things that I forgot, since he was driving in Sat morning. I wanted another layer to wear under my shirt, so I didn't freeze. 

Me:  Can you grab me a cami from the middle drawer in the bathroom? It's like a tank top. 

Coach:  Um, is it sleeveless? 

4.  As we pulled up to the random house where Curly and I were staying (house belongs to a friend of a friend who we've never met and he was staying in the house and so were his friends, another couple . . . all people we'd never met).

Curly:  This is so freaky. It's literally the base of every horror movie. 

5.  As people approached out tailgate, I offered them chili. My master plan in order to keep the chili warm for as long as possible was to minimal opening of the crockpot (I had three of them buried in towels inside three cardboard boxes in the back of GW. Once we got near the bottom of a crockpot or we suspected it was no longer warm, we moved to the next crockpot). 

Me:  Oh, hey. Would you like some chili? How 'bout your buddy?

Mini:  MOM! This isn't a soup kitchen. Stop forcing your chili on everyone. 

I about died, as did Mini's friends. 

***********

When was the last time you/or someone you thought you knew well tried to change clothes in a car? Are there gadgets available that would help me keep chili hot at a tailgate? (I don't want to buy another crockpot that plugs into the lighter. Owning 4 crockpots is where I draw the line). Do the men in your life know what a tank top is, or do they wonder if a tank top has sleeves? 

Friday: frustration before fun, part deux

(you might want to read yesterday's post in advance of this one - it's the start of the saga) . . . Once I explained that if we didn't arrive early enough to South Bend we wouldn't be going out with Mini for dinner, Curly emailed her teacher and asked to take the test during 7th. Sweet!

2:30 pm:  Curly got home and went to pack. I'd told her that I wanted to leave by 2:45. She popped in the kitchen wearing jeans that I bought her last year, but complained that they were tight. 

Curly:  Will this work for dinner? (yes!)

Curly rarely wears jeans. She's a sweats or leggings kinda girl. She ran to finish packing and I started organizing the food in the small coolers like the Tetris expert I am. 

Eating out is a rarity in Chez Shenanigan and Curly was excited. I had a brief phone call with Mini, who was too busy studying to be bothered, but I had some details I wanted ironed out. She told me that her roomie's family invited us to join their dinner reservation, but only had 2 extra seats. We were a party of 4. I called the restaurant - any chance we could get a reservation around the same time, at a separate table - so we could still meet up with them. The hostess said she could just add us to their table. 

Mini texted, she wasn't pleased, thinking I'd overstepped (I think). Then roomie's mom called me to review what drinks she was buying and I explained that I wasn't trying to overtake their reservation. She said the restaurant had sent a text update and that it sounded perfect.

My thoughts:  better to have a reservation, because if we arrive in South Bend (and who knows with traffic - a growing concern as we were running behind) and grew old waiting for a table, Mini would be ticked. Her goal:  go out with her visiting-from-home bestie. 

Because we cannot escape phone issues, Mini expressed her frustration at the latest. Coach thought providing Verizon the correct account # would solve the transfer issue, but alas - now Mini and Tank had zero service. Emily, my Verizon BFF, suggested both kids visit a store. 

Mini:  I'm not going into a Verizon store. That's so dumb. I shouldn't have to do that.

Me:  Listen MINI (teeth gritted)! I'm UN-aware of how challenging this all is. Do tell.

3:00-ish:  Thinking an additional phone call wouldn't slow us down that much, I called 611. That's the customer service # that Emily suggested the service-less kids should call, but they couldn't without service. That person needed to talk to Mini and I had to text her on Whatsapp to find out if there was a friend nearby who could accept a call from Verizon. Quite literally, a phone-a-friend.

This took a few tries, but finally Verizon reached Mini via her friend's phone, and had me stay on hold. Fun.

3:45-ish:  I was about done with the food organizing. Curly was helping me load stuff, but wondered why Coach wasn't there to help. I still needed to pack.

Me:  Hey Curly, Mini wants us to bring her stuff (do NOT get me started on how she didn't remember to dig up her coats when she spent a week home end of October). I found her winter coat. She wants her vest. Can you find it?

I ran to dress/pack. First rummaging thru the big girls' room in search of the elusive vest. I'd mentally packed, so . . .  no-brainer? My pants I planned to wear to tailgate weren't ANYWHERE. What? Then I got stuck. I couldn't think. I felt the clock ticking in my ear. THINK OF ANOTHER OUTFIT. Nope. I froze. And may or may not have hollered, grumbled, tossed clothes in all directions in my room. (my room is the lowest priority when I'm busy and I can honestly say it's never been as messy and in such a state of shambles as it is currently. That's saying a lot.) Curly was like WHAT ON EARTH? - witnessing the official-ungluing of her typically-good-at-multitasking mother. 

I found my pants behind my closet door. I shoved more clothes than I would need along with another bag of extra outer layers to leave in the car during the tailgate 'in case', pulled on a pair of jeans and a light-weight shirt because I was sweating and it was 60 and sunny out, and raced off to finish loading the car. 

Mini's vest was never found, and Curly was looking for other wardrobe options for herself because Mini was begging to be allowed to wear her vest. A second person from Verizon came on the line, because person #1 was clueless and sent the call to her. 

Me:  This is the number where you can reach my daughter, but I need to use my phone and I'm about to get on the road, so I can't really be on hold much longer. 

4:10 pm:  We pulled a loaded GW out of the driveway and into terrible traffic approximately an hour and a half later than I planned to leave.

Me to Curly:  Text Mini. Tell her our ETA is 7:15 (2 hour drive plus a one hour time change). The reservation is at 6:45, so we'll be late. Tell her we'll look at the menu online and she can just order for us. Hopefully traffic lightens and I make up time.  

Curly looks at her phone:  What? That's nice. I took my test early so I could eat dinner out with her and now she's saying That's Ok. We'll just do our own thing. 

I just found this photo that Reg
took while we were at the Verizon
 store when things were starting
 to spiral. I was pacing, and
 giving someone at Walmart
 a piece of my mind. 

Me:  Don't worry. She's not saying that she's not eating with us. She's just saying that she would rather not go to the reservation if we're gonna be late. Maybe she wants to wait someplace without a reservation. I'll call her. 

Mini answers and tells me that the Verizon people were really dumb and that her phone still isn't working. *%&$#@* Then she says that she and Bestie will go get dinner and Curly and I could do our own thing. 

I did what anyone would've done after:  making her favorite dessert and favorite dip, practically donating my liver in order to get phone service switched, searching high and low for a missing vest, and begging to butt into someone else's dinner reservation. I HUNG UP. 

Curly:  What? 

Me:  I need a minute.

Then I called back. Through my tears I said ALL.THE.THINGS. 

"Your sister is excited to meet you out for dinner. She rearranged her test. Dad was not much help today. *He went to mass and awards at the girls' school. I did this whole tailgate prep thing MYSELF. Did you know I drove to Indiana yesterday, and that toDAY, Dad pointed out that he could've just given Reg his phone on Saturday on when he drove to ND? Do you have ANY idea how many hours I've spent with the phone shit this week? Wait till you see all the food, MINI. And now that it took me an extra hour and a half to leave the house AFTER WE LOOKED HIGH AND LOW FOR YOUR VEST AND I CALLED VERIZON, BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU WOULDN'T GO TO THE VERIZON STORE . . . NOW, you WON'T be meeting US for dinner?"

Mini:  Sorry Mom. OK. I didn't know it was . . . a big deal. That's fine. I'll just go to the reservation. Let me know what you want to order. 

*on Monday I found out that Kay didn't get an award, so Coach didn't need to be at the school. Kay's got some disillusionment issues. Long story and very confusing. 

Mini lives in the land with all.the.Friends and Curly lives in a world with annoying foster sisters and crappy friends whose friendships with my kid have dissolved as they're priorities are not 'great' and I wish we changed her to another school, but nothing looked promising and she's a junior with no plans on the weekends after having plans every single weekend for the last 2 years. *sigh*

I hung up the phone, still crying a little, and reached around with one hand trying to get something under the row of seats behind me. 

Wide-eyed Curly:  What are you looking for? I'll get it. 

Me:  A diaper. I saw one under the seat when we loaded the car. I want to pour some water on it, so I can blot my eyes. My face is gonna be all red at dinner, because I'm crying. 

Curly:  Well, stop crying. You look fine. No one'll notice. I don't see a diaper. 

I reached under my seat. There are always spare diapers in GW. I felt something soft, pulled it out and it was . . . a men's dress sock. What? So, I blotted my face with what I hoped was a clean men's sock doused in cold water from my water bottle. 

And we drove along in our beat up Chevy Express Van on our way to dinner. The group ended up being seated moments before we walked in. Mini's phone service kicked in just before we arrived. Go figure. After dinner, we walked across the street to 7-11 to buy Mini and Bestie a bottle of wine for their pre-gaming before dropping them at Mini's dorm. Those two managed to get in the bars. So all was not lost. Unless, of course, we count my sanity.  

This was long. Thanks for allowing me to vent. Any guesses on where the missing vest might be?  Any of you anti-jeans, like Curly? 

Friday: frustration before fun

6:00 am:  After being woken by the seat-removal fairy on Friday at 5 am, I finally gave up and rolled out of bed.

I needed to complete my submission for my writing workshop that meets on Monday evenings. If I could go back and change one thing, I'd have completed this earlier in the week . . . well, with the phone nonsense and the unplanned phone-delivery/watch-Reg-play trip to Indiana - how? Or I'd wait till Sunday and send my chapter out late and bring copies for anyone who didn't have time to print it in advance. This took about three hours. There's no rushing the creative process, right? 

9:00 am:  I made three loaves of pumpkin bread, stuck it in the oven, and went for a run. During my run, Rae called. There was no choir after school. Damn. 

Choir practice is after school, then a driver provided by DCFS transports the girls to therapy and drops them home at 6:30 pm. This is a short respite for Coach and I.  What would we do with them in the gap between school and the driver's arrival with me heading out of town in the afternoon? We needed to pivot. I had to reach out to the school and the driver to adjust. It was ONE MORE THING. 

After my run, I really wanted to shower, but tackled an item on the list.  I made two loaves of Irish soda bread.

11:00 am:  Lad showed up to help me set up/educate me on my iPhone. This was nice, but not well timed. His visit, while a 'working visit' slowed my breakneck speed pace. His two dogs came along for shits and giggles, and they hung out on the deck. I had to say hello to Finnegan. He could see me thru the slider and he thinks I'm his mother. Now I was glad I hadn't showered, because slobber-ville.

(short video of Lad's two dogs on our deck while the neighbor's German Shephard circles. Finnegan is more interested in getting love from the neighbor. The white and black dog is Ronan, Lad's other dog - he bought after he moved out).

11:30 am:  I started cutting the avocado for the cowboy caviar, deciding to shower after Lad left. 

After Lad programmed my texts to train whistle, because I couldn't differentiate  texts and emails, he loaded drinks into 3 big coolers. I hopped in the shower. Coach was stopping home on his lunch hour to load the van with whatever was ready. I had Lad text him and ask him to get another 20 lb bag of ice. 

At this point, I still thought I was managing my time well. Disillusioned much? I'd like to go back and tell myself to get my ass out of bed at 5 am, because TIME.

1:30 pm:  Coach had been home for about an hour. He and Lad loaded 3 coolers, 3 tables, and 6 chairs into the van. Lad, "Who sits at a tailgate?" I wasn't interested in a debate. One cooler is missing the valve, so it leaks. They spent a good deal of time creating a stopper to fill the drainage hole. (note to self:  order a new stopper valve if possible). 

Coach and I discussed leaving girls at school to await driver, or him bringing them home and me alerting driver of where they'd be. It took 2 calls to the school to straighten this out. Then Coach raced off, saying he planned to attend mass at the girls' school followed by a 1st quarter award ceremony. Kay thought she was getting an award.  

2:00 pm:  I ran to my folks' house to borrow another folding table and dropped off a plate of Irish soda bread. 

I  assembled the 7 layer taco dip - all veggies were already chopped, yeah. Oh, the tomatoes that Coach chopped the night before froze in the bowl. Lately, if something touches the back of the fridge it freezes. Worried they'd be mushy, I chopped more tomatoes. 

* My goal had been to be mostly ready when Curly got home from school. Earlier in the week Curly balked at swapping her 7th period study hall with her 8th period AP Bio class, because she hoped to study for AP Bio test during study hall.

Me:  Here's an idea:  what if you skip your late night viewing of Gilmore Girls and use that time to study? 

I mean . . .  C'mon, what's so hard? 

*****

OK, I really wanted to share the whole saga in one post, but I'm trying not to be too lengthy. Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion. I don't mean to be demanding, but I do hope you return for the wrap up. 

Please come back. Now I'm groveling. 

Does your fridge arbitrarily freeze things? Do you sometimes think you have a workable schedule for food prep before a party only to find that you have NO idea how long things will take?

I'll be brief: iPhone feedback, not that anyone is asking

I interrupt this tailgate tale to share a few iPhone thoughts: 

I'm trying to like my iPhone, really I am. The size is nice. My Android felt gi-normous. 

But I'm using the same Nike run app that I used on my Android and the iPhone is gypping my run. It's giving me credit for like 4.3 miles (roughly), when my Android awarded me a whopping 4.5 miles for the same exact route. What gives? Android gets my vote on this one, 'i'. I really struggle to believe that I've NOT been running as far as I thought I was running, for like years. 

Also, what is with the double text alert? I get a text alert, which to be fair is a big step up from my broken down Android that refused to give me a text alert for the last month or so, and I had to constantly check my phone like some phone obsessed teen. Anyway, iPhone alerts me of a text. If I don't open said text in under a minute, the damn phone gives me ANOTHER alert. Pure witchcraft. 

Me:  Leave me alone, I'm busy - damn it. 

I can usually see the text, but I might be changing a diaper or running (less than!) 4.5 miles, and I can't open the text right away. 

My friend, Becky, was over today with her tots for a playdate. She fixed my alerts and increased the size of the text, so I won't go blind trying to read my messages. So, a step in the right direction. 

*Yes, I need other people to adjust/fix/set up every single thing on this phone. I'm reminded of when the time changed or the power went out in the early 90s (till now), and one of my siblings or I had to change the flashing clock on my parents' VCR. I've turned into my parents. 

Oh, another thing. I prefer to fly under the radar about my new device. I'm not about to cry from the rooftops:  I got an iPhone  . . . like the rest of civilization (implied). I was team Android forever and I sort of hate that I jumped to Apple bandwagon. 

A photo taken with Curly's
 iPhone. This is me
dethroning Gumby at the
 end of the tailgate.

On Saturday while tailgating (so that's the good news, I did make it to the tailgate, but I just didn't have time to complete or organize the next installment in time for today's post), I texted my niece to say, "We're over here in the Stadium lot across from pole 21."

What do you think she texted back?

What's this? Blue texts? 

Damn it. Cover blown. 

I will say that I'm enjoying the camera. I took a photo of Mini and Curly with their 2 girl cousins. Mini was making the other three laugh, of course, and since my photo is alive (how Harry Potter of my phone to make my photos come alive), you can actually look at the photo and watch them all throw their heads back and bust out in laughter. Well done at preserving that memory, i. 

How about you? What have you struggled with or celebrated when updating a phone? Has anyone else switched from Android to iPhone? Do you need a teenager to adjust things on your phone?