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Category Archives: laughter


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toddler tizzy. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

they were perfect little travelers when they were little – my children – seasoned roadtrippers happy-as-clams as long as there were snacks.

not unlike the kiddos, we simply cannot get from point a to point b without snacks. roadtrips are synonymous with non-stop grazing, all bets off, things we don’t usually eat at home. though i’d like to say it’s all about trail mix and flax seed bars, the reality is that twizzlers and munchos and peanut m&ms sometimes make their way into the bags easily accessible from the front seat. carrots and grapes and cut-up apples and water bottles are in the cooler. and coffee. there’s always coffee. hydroflasks filled at home followed by cardboard starbucks cups of the boldest pour. back in the non-gluten-free days there would be those amazing lemon loaf slices too – the ones with the slightest schmear of frosting. and we’d bring along schmearless plain panera bagels, just to chew on. yes, yes, we know how to rock the highways.

lately, we’ve tried to be more – conscious – of our choices, tried to eat healthy snacks – even in the car – more kind bars, less pringles, more gf granola bites, fewer hostess cupcakes.

but then there’s david. trying to be all healthy-like, waxing poetic about the glorious bags and coolers full of nutritious, wholesome foods, robustly clapping at our roadtrip fare.

he’s all-in, a clean-snacks, upbeat good-food-eater until…that toddler-award-winning-tizzy-moment he completely loses it when he realizes that, indeed, we have not included peanut m&ms.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

*using an apostrophe in a non-possessive plural really gets my inner-grammar-nerd going, so much research went into whether there is an apostrophe referring to the plural of these candies. since m & m are names and the candy is actually called “m&m’s”, i decided to go with the apostrophe referring to the complete name, but not without cringing at the use of an apostrophe sort of doubling as a plural. ugh. blame my sweet momma. 😉

SMACK-DAB. Šī¸ 2022 kerrianddavid.com


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two-tortillas-people. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

it should have been a no-duh.

it was rather life-changing.

we stood in the kitchen, staring at our daughter.

i was heating up black bean burgers for lunch and had taken out the salsa and the avocado and the lime. i took out the white corn tortillas and commented that the tortilla would likely fall apart once the bbburger, the salsa, the avocado and the splash of lime were placed upon it. i asked her if she wanted a fork and a knife. she said – wait for it – “use two tortillas.”

two tortillas.

like seriously?

who knew?

“yep,” she continued, “warm up the tortillas and place it all on top of two, not one. it won’t fall apart.”

she was right. it worked.

and, somehow, we had not thought of this.

we are now two-tortillas-people. headline news.

this is why people have children.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY


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but those rustic barrels. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

we do love to read together. we’ve hiked the appalachian trail, the salt path, treacherous trails in iceland. we’ve read deeply moving novels like the shack, the best of us, factual accounts like 102 minutes, the 33….. we read mary oliver and rumi and john o’donohue and the book of joy and lyrics of songs and pablo neruda. it’s actually pretty magical to read aloud to each other.

romantic poetry is the stuff of friday night date nights. we haven’t read poetry on a friday night lately, but it sure sounds like a good plan – a fire out back, the gurgling pond, a fan gently keeping the pesky mosquitoes at bay, a glass of wine, a book of poetry and an itty-bitty-book-light to illuminate the pages.

our newest pablo neruda book asks questions – in spanish and in english. it is my preference to read them to david in spanish (neither of us having had any spanish instruction). we stare at each other – no, no, gaze adoringly at each other – and he tries to sort out what i asked. eventually, i give in and read the question in english. there are no answers in the book. only questions. and they are truly sink-your-teeth-into-them questions. we ponder and pull on them like taffy.

maybe tonight. a saturday night date night. glass of wine. firepit (though it will be about 80 degrees). if the lights strung across the yard aren’t enough, the itty-bitty will be nearby. and we will read delicious words of love and promises of bluebells and dark hazels. i won’t expect the bluebells or the dark hazels or gifts to be bestowed at the door, arriving through david’s remarkable ability to order them via AI or siri sending them as we read aloud (which may not be far from reality some day). unexpected gifts are rare these days, for many reasons. as we go through and declutter and clear out, we see we need little.

because, truth is, the sitting together is actually the gift.

but those rustic barrels of kisses…

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

SMACK-DAB. Šī¸ 2022 kerrianddavid.com


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vine-climbing. [merely-a-thought monday]

the 1977 graduating class of john glenn high school chose this song as our theme song. before the decision and ever since, it has remained a favorite. seals and crofts dominated our senior variety show – the one for which i wore a full wet suit including fins and played a piano duet -, our graduation, our prom, our yearbook. they played over and over in my bedside cassette player, on radio, on stereo systems throughout elwood and, likely, everywhere.

“so, i wanna laugh when the laughing is easy.

i wanna cry if it makes it worthwhile.

i may never pass this way again,

that’s why i want it with you…”

(jim seals, dash crofts – we may never pass this way again)

just last week jim seals died. he was 80. and suddenly, again, time flashes in front of us.

because somehow, listening to their music, i am back at 17 or 20 and they are in their early to mid thirties. but the years come and go and the journey keeps journeying, faster and faster it seems.

and so the moments and presence become infinitely more important and the stuff becomes less. the grand illusion of foreverness becomes foggy and we learn – little by little – sometimes, though, with ferocity – that we must be-here-now. we graduate and grow and regress and grow again and start to see that full spectrum is not so bad – that belly-laughing and weeping are both, indeed, necessary and that as we vine-climb from dirt to sky we are only really here to be with each other.

our beloved daughter was here for a couple days. any time we see her or our beloved son are those kind of rare-gift moments. we giggle and poke fun and talk and reminisce and ponder and there’s eye-rolling and i am astounded by them and, always, i cry upon their leaving or upon our parting. it is the hard part.

i know that we just never know. life has a way of teaching us that – again and again – though it is easy to forget, to push it aside. but the further up the vine we get, the more we recognize it. it is all so fragile. we may never pass this way again. simple. true. a calling, an imperative to say the stuff, to be vulnerable, to experience, to love, to acknowledge, to laugh, to cry, to be-with.

good choice of song, jhghs.

“all the secrets in the universe

whisper in our ears

and all the years, they come and go

and take us up, always up…”

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY


					
		
	



							



	

					
				

			
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parking spot swagger. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

	


	

					






there are three parking apps on my phone.  and that’s just to cover chicago.  





not wanting to appear outdated (ahem!) or out-of-the-loop, just before the last time we went to visit our son, i loaded two new apps…that way, no matter where we parked i would have it covered.  no matter what space – on the street, in the lot, in someone’s yard, anywhere – i would be able to -all-casual-like – take out my phone and calmly pay for our spot without a second thought.  i was ready.  the credit card was loaded, the apps were signed into and open.  and i was both proud and brave, thinking i was on top of it.  i mean, driving in the city has enough issues sans parking woes.  i detest bumper-drivers and people who weave in and out of lanes, the aggression of people-trying-to-get-somewhere faster than the people in front of them.  we choose the back way as much as possible.





we had picked him up and drove over to the restaurant, through a crowded wrigleyville on a cubs-home-game-day, having had someone drive right into littlebabyscion’s back bumper at a red light, arriving to parallel park on the street.  i was all ready.  i pulled out my phone, poised to impress everyone with my parking readiness, this new knowledge of parking spot ease.





i studied the sign on the side of the street.  a little confused, i looked over at my son, who was counting his lucky stars he had survived my city-driving to arrive at lunch.  alas, it was sunday.  and in a moment of utter letdown-from-a-big-buildup, he announced that we didn’t have to pay to park.  





as lovely as it was to park for free – imagine! – i was disappointed to not use my newfound parking je ne sais quoi.  the irony.





we drove home the back way, through little towns and on country roads, with no one on our bumper, figuratively or literally, confident that we could park anywhere our little hearts desired.





*****





read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING












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we’ll see. part two. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

	


	

					






i mean, i love calculators.  really love them.  i got excited the other day when i found a TI-30X IIS in a basket i was going through.  sheesh.  i blame my high school math teacher, a man everyone adored and for whom we all worked really hard.  he’s one of the reasons so many of us ended up loving math…still.  





and so i am the billpayer.  i have a dollar store calendar with due date notations each month which serves as a folder for outstanding bills.  i check it often and keep track of spending.  i prepare our personal and business taxes in february, a task – everything line-item-ed to bring on to the accountant – that is sometimes daunting, but…ya gotta love all that math.  i never really mind any of it.  sometimes, though, i wish the numbers were different.  it would maybe be a little easier with better numbers.  sigh.





the aarp magazine and newsletter come into the mailbox and i peruse them for thoughtful advice, words of wisdom, pointers.  invariably, they have some article on retirement – which is, of course, their real area of expertise.  and, along with the article that lists all the things you need to “successfully retire” (aka do whatever-the-hell you want) there will be lists of IRAs and 401ks and savings pie charts and spending allowances and how they proportionately relate to each other and your life post-wage-earning.  





good grief.





it is not in my best interest to take these too seriously.  





by the time we are fully retired, with inflation going the way it is – gas prices and groceries, continually rising heating bills and let’s-not-talk-about-cable anymore and oh-right-then-there’s-healthcare – we might have like zilcho to spend.  





i love the articles about places to retire to – small towns and lakefronts, unexpected charming villages.  there’s always the question of retirement living communities with amenities and activities or planned gated neighborhoods or mobile home parks set in tropical locations.  





with housing costs and rents rising ad nauseam, it is hard to think about having the resources to purchase a new home and move.  we dream and look at tiny-house plans.  we consider this beloved old house we live in.  we wonder about traveling.  we wonder about adventures.  we wonder about the pacific crest trail.  





we make a strict budget, planning ahead.  i thank bill h., my math teacher, for the ability to think it all through and do the math in my head.  and i warn d.  





so in our fun and adventurous retirement, after working hard in our lives, after judicious and frugal-no-real-frills spending habits, i calculate our likely extraneous income…that expendable fluff – like reddi-whip piled high on top of a hot fudge sundae – and i tell david.





“zero,” i inform him. “we can spend zero.”





we’ll see, i guess.





*****





read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING












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two little piggies. [k.s. friday]

	


	

					








my poppo’s cane stands next to a chimney cupboard in the sitting room, propped with a couple of walking sticks.  i’ve never been very good at using a cane – for some reason, i find it confusing.  you shake your head and wonder, i’m sure, but there is something about placing the stick and the side you place it on and which leg you are attempting to aid that is a little bit baffling for me.  





this past week, though, i had a full day of using my dad’s cane.  i had broken two toes and needed a little something to lean on to get around.  i tried using the foam roller but that proved awkward.  and david, well, his shoulder wasn’t available all day.  





my dad was most certainly chuckling watching me.  i’m sure he was trying to instruct me from that other plane, in-between sipping coffee and nibbling on crumbcake.  i figured it out, even though i couldn’t hear him, but not without laughing at my own awkward brain-cane-leg shenanigans.  mostly, my hand holding the curve of my dad’s cane was a little bit of a gift.  sitting as a decoration, it hadn’t occurred to me that it might come in handy.  “use the stick,” i could hear him say.  i keep listening for him, a decade tomorrow since i started missing him.  always.





i’m not sure why i break my toes.  the report from the dr’s office to the x-ray folks read “kicked a door jamb with her left foot.”  i beg to differ.  i didn’t KICK the door jamb.  i ran into it.  there is a difference.  one sounds like a hissy fit, whereas the other is clearly an accident that happened as i zoomed around in the house, getting stuff done, barefoot.  





it seems that every year or so i hurt a toe.  most of the time, barefoot.  but sometimes i even have my flipflops on.  this time, though, was a doozy.  two at once!  i mean, seriously?





on the third day post-communing-with-the-door-jamb i put on one of the thick snowboard socks of a pair we had gotten when we went snowboarding and i broke both my wrists (another fun day) and i found a sport slide sandal of my son’s (who has much bigger feet than i do).  the combination worked like a charm and i found that i could manage to move around.  i’m still wearing this winning combo.  i don’t look vogue but i am getting from place a to place b.  and gaining momentum.





i suppose i should just wear shoes.  like all the time.  something to guard my toes, since they seem vulnerable.  but i really love the sensation of bare feet on old wood floors.  the planks creak and groan a little and you can feel the spaces that time and history have created in between the boards.  





as much as i don’t look forward to any more broken piggies, i suspect these are not my last.





*****









IN THESE TIMES…gaining momentum





download music on my little corner of iTUNES





stream on PANDORA





read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY












IN THESE TIMES from AS IT IS Šī¸ 2004 kerri sherwood

					
		
	



							



	

					
				

			
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we’ll see. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

	


	

					








i read it on facebook.  her daughter had fallen in love with the perfect home and had made an offer, only to lose this perfect house they had been saving and saving and saving for to someone who offered $200,000 (that’s two-hundred-thousand-dollars) OVER the asking price.  all cash.  it’s insanity!





we ponder the next chapter often.  we have dreamy homes in our mind’s eye and on my laptop screen, plans i have saved, photographs of houses over which we have lusted.  out the window are mountains and space, oftentimes water.  and never perfect grass.  i’ve noticed a theme of more natural settings, without the greenscape of manicured lawn, edged and treated and de-dandelioned.





but i cannot imagine how any of that is possible.  we are fortunate to live in our old house in a beautiful old neighborhood near a giant great lake.  we don’t usually have tornadoes or hurricanes, ice storms or lengthy periods of time over 100 degrees with feels-like humidity pushing us to stay inside.  we have winter, yes.  we have snow, yes.  we have very-late spring, yes, sort of.  we have gorgeous fall, yes.  we have thunderstorms and sometimes windy derechos, which are scary as heck.  every now and then we have ice and every now and then there will be a period of time with hotter-than-heck temperatures.  and we love our home…the creaky wood floors, the fluted glass doorknobs, the high ceilings, the six-panel doors, the nooks and crannies, the light.  even with all its idiosyncrasies and the ever-present maintenance list, we are grateful for it.





but…the next chapter.  i hear about people retiring and moving south – to florida, most often.  i hear about people moving southwest – to arkansas, to arizona.  these aren’t places we would choose.  we have a short list at the moment: colorado, north carolina, vermont, maine.  i think that’s about it for now.  i’m not sure how we could afford any of those places.  we don’t have two-hundred-thousand-dollars-cash-money-over-and-above-the-selling-price to entice a seller to accept our bid.  my heart goes out to my friend’s daughter.  buying a home these days cannot be easy – for most.





so every day, really, i tool around online looking at our top destinations, dreaming.  i jaunt over to airbnb to see what it would be to live in those spots for a couple months, enough time to immerse and feel like we have gotten out of dodge.  i show david pictures and we chat about the possibilities of someday.  i look at calculators and equations and budget projections.  yikes!  





and we start to make a plan.  our roadtrip.  i guess we’ll see.  





there’s a lot to consider and, clearly, we need a much bigger piggybank.





mostly, though, i’m guessing we will follow our hearts.





*****





read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING












SMACK-DAB. Šī¸ 2022 kerrianddavid.com

					
		
	



							



	

					
				

			
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the circle of life. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

	


	

					








sometimes asking a question is purely a matter of politeness.  you want the other person to know you value their thoughts, but, since you’ve already decided, their answer blurs into the gusty winds inside your mind and you do what you want to do anyway.





i can’t say that all the lost turtles and frogs and hurt birds and chipmunks and leg-damaged preying mantises in the wild have come home with us.  i can say that i wanted them to.  he generally feels that nature should be left to carry on in the circle of life (i can hear elton john singing now) and so i already know his answer to my “what should we do?” question.  we’ve come across kittens on trails and i’ve stared at him without a word as he sorts for something to say about wild cats.  of course there is nothing to really say about a tiny tabby in the woods, except that we are not really all that far from civilization and, surely, this cat belongs somewhere, so taking it home would equate to, well, kidnapping it.  that, for sure, stops any taking-it-home-ness from happening.





were it up to me, particularly in this empty-nest-time, all the sweet creatures we come across would be our little friends.  and the circle of life – if need be – would include a stint at our house, in our nest.  





and elton john would be happy.





*****





read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING












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spirograph on deck. [saturday morning smack-dab.]

	


	

					






we are surrounded by people with grandchildren.  there are tiny babies, toddlers, pre-teens, teenagers.  we are ‘of the age’.  it would seem that each and every day there is yet another announcement on social media of a new grandbaby-to-be, a gender reveal party, a baby shower, a birth of a tiny being into this great big world.  my biological grandma clock is pokin’ at me, but, alas, this is not within my control.  at all.  these are important and very personal decisions; each of us has to decide what is individually right for us.   and so, we’ll see.  no matter our age, we celebrate our children living their lives.





and so, we watch others as they enter the glee-filled world of grandparenthood.  they amass toys and sleeping provisions and high chair options and read books about the newfangled ways small babies learn to eat food and they post adorable videos of all the extraordinarily ordinary moments we – as parents – didn’t have time to notice.  they go to the closet in the hallway or in the family room and gaze up at the tinkertoys and legos and trouble game and candyland and the saved baby dolls and barbie dolls and matchbox cars and crayons and stickers and markers and coloring books and they get dreamy looks on their faces as they ponder all these – once again – in their lives.  ahh.  what perfection.





we have all that stuff too.  it’s mostly in the hall closet, where we’ve always kept it.  games and puzzles and crafty things and bebop and a jumprope and jacks and egg coloring kits and pumpkin carving tools and those squishy balls you get all soaky wet to throw and frisbees.  all the crayons and colored pencils and markers and glue are upstairs in the cabinet in the office.  and stickers.  lots of stickers.  





there is really no reason we can’t just revisit all that stuff now anyway.  i mean, if we are going to practice snack-time, we can spirograph first.  





he is such a boy.  SUCH a boy.  any – and i mean ANY – time i ask him if he’s hungry, he always replies with an emphatic “yes!” like he’s been starving for days and days.  snack-time is a driving force, a dominant priority, something he has already perfected.  but, hmmm….yes, a carrot easily dangle-able.  





i’m guessing spirograph is in our future.





happy mother’s day.





*****





read DAVID’S thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING












SMACK-DAB. Šī¸ 2022 kerrianddavid.com