Or street shots from Washington, D.C. and I find this. 
The mind of a fifteen year old is a vacation destination of its own.
Rollin’, rollin’, rollin’
Or when Nastia won the gold after the head judge jerked a knot in the tails of those other gymnastics judges for their lopsided scores for the Chinese team.
I think it’s sweet the way her mama can’t stand to be inside the arena when Nastia’s performing because she’s so nervous. I think I’d be the same way.
Those Jamaicans are fabulosa! And I’m sorry Bernard, but you were just overconfident. Your head was not in the game. While we’re on the Americans, Walter Dix, can you focus a little more on your speaking skills when you get done with these games? They really need polishing. Being an athlete is no excuse for poor speech.
Sanya, I know you lost your steam at the end and came up short, but that’s because you gave it everything you had, girl. You should be proud of that. And that engagement ring? Gooorgeous.
You know, I held back the tears, Shawn Johnson, as the national anthem started, but when the commentators told me your parents had mortgaged their house more than once to finance your training, well that just put me under. I think Hubby even got choked up on that one, even though he pretended like he didn’t. 
There are many more events to come, and each one will hold its own share of drama. I’ll be right there for it all, but in the meantime, will someone please explain this to me, ‘cause I’m going to have a hard time cheering for these guys while turning my head.
He’s my Olympic crush this year. I have one each Olympics. It started back in1980 with Big Jim. 
His picture stayed on my high school locker for months.
Twenty- eight years later it’s Michael. Oh, a couple of guys on the gymnastics team came close, like that Alexander What’s-His-Name and I’m sure there’s a runner or two that will catch my eye next week when track and field kicks in, but Mr. Phelps runs rings (wink, wink) around those guys. Speaking of rings have you noticed that little tattoo he has tucked just below the top of his swimsuit?
Not that I was looking there are anything, ‘cause I admire him for his athleticism.
And his strength.
And his charming boy next door manners when he’s talking to the media or standing on the podium.
And his team spirit.
Um…and his abs.
Hmmm. Do you think Hubby will mind our new pool boy?
*Photos courtesy: latimes.com, baltimoresun.com and swimroom.com.
And then Debbie over at etc., etc., etc., gave me this one. Two shakes of the grass skirt, girlfriend.
And then, lo and behold, Karisma sent this bit of blogging love my way. 
I don't feel like I deserve any of them, and I am flattered that anyone stops by here and enjoys something I've penned. I just like meeting you folks and sharing with you. I will accept these gracefully and oblige by filling out the meme that came with Karisma's award. And now I'm stumped because I need to pass along these awards to someone else, and my first choices would be the folks who gave them to ME. Yikes!
This is my parents on their wedding day, some 45 years ago. This photo sums up their personalities perfectly. Daddy is the agitator, alway up to mischief. Mama is always rolling her eyes at him and reeling him back in line. For years they've been each other's yin and yang, rolling with the ups and downs of life. I love that they've weathered the ups and downs, that they still love each other very much and still enjoy each other's company. They may bicker every now and then, but they wouldn't know what to do without each other. Oh, and I love that Daddy still picks at Mama, and she still rolls her eyes at him...often. Just for the record, here's what they look like today.
Sorry! I couldn't stick to just one.
It’s ironic that she isn’t smiling in the only photo I have of her, because she always smiled. She had a giggle box that worked overtime and an infectious laugh. She made me laugh from the very beginning. We often sat beside each other in class, but didn’t become really good friends until 7th grade. Because we got along so well, I assumed she was just like me, and she was except for the fact that she faced issues I didn’t have to worry about. I didn’t know it then, though. We passed notes, shared jokes and talked on the phone for hours. She laughed at me because I was so naïve and taught me things about her culture I’d never heard of like Soul Train, Jeri Curl and hair food. She opened up a musical world outside top 40 pop radio when she introduced me to Teddy Pendergrass and Barry White. We had many good times at school and over the phone, but we didn’t visit each other’s homes. We would have needed transportation, but we didn’t ask our parents. It was like we had some kind of unspoken deal that we wouldn’t cross certain societal boundaries. We never discussed it, and I didn’t think about it much until one day when she showed up at my house. Her older sister had driven her there on their way home, and she stopped to show off her new baby nephew. It was the only time she ever came to my house. I grabbed her nephew and took him inside to show my parents. They welcomed her inside, but I could tell she felt really awkward, like she just didn’t belong. I never understood why, but I could see it in her eyes. She didn’t stay long that day, and we never spoke about it. It was my first clue that things were different for her in a way that they weren’t for me.
Homegrown green beans straight from Pa’s garden. Cooked slowly for three hours with salt, pepper and a little dab of bacon drippings. So tender they’ll melt in your mouth.* 
Roasted garden vegetables: sweet onion, farmer’s market eggplant, red pepper, zucchini and squash. Drizzled with olive oil, sprinkled with kosher salt and fresh ground pepper and grilled until juicy and singed on the edges. Tastes so good it’ll make you smack your granny. 
And three varieties of homegrown thick sliced tomatoes; juicy, sweet and full of goodness. You’ll need a spoon to catch all the juice and a rag to wipe it off your chin. 
Add a side pan of sweet cornbread slathered in butter, some fresh green onions and cold sweet tea and extra chairs at the table ‘cause the neighbors will all come runnin’. Yum, yum.
Everything was put in lay-away and not retrieved until right before school started. That way it stayed nice until the first day of school. As we grew older, my brothers had the unfortunate luck to have their jeans purchased at Sears. They were the victims of that 70’s fashion fiasco known as Tough-Skin jeans. Because mother sewed, she made a lot of my dresses and blouses, usually from Simplicity patterns. 
Fourth grade was the year most of us girls got our first bras, not that we needed them. But my, didn’t we feel all grown up in those little stretchy things. We washed our hair in Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific and Farrah Fawcett shampoos and coated ourselves in Blue Jeans fragrance.
And Love’s Baby Soft. Oh, and as we got a little older we begged for Tickle deodorant and Bonne Bell Lip Smackers. 
School supplies were just as important as the clothes. Just as it is today, back then it was important to pick out just the right stuff. While I don’t remember needing a lot of supplies back then, I know it was important to have a Trapper Keeper.
How politically incorrect was that? Have I ever told you I missed my first recess of fourth grade because Larry O. took my pencil with the Frito Bandito eraser? We argued about it until Mr. T. made us stay in during recess and write “I will not talk in class” fifty times. It was one of many reasons why the conduct box on my report said “Talks too much” and “Out of seat too much” that year. A good metal lunchbox was important too. My friend Cathy had a Yogi Bear lunchbox, and it was okay, but all the really cool kids had something like Evil Knievel, Emergency or the Holy Grail of lunchboxes, The Land of The Lost. 
For the life of me, I can’t remember what my lunchbox was because I usually ate whatever the lunch ladies served. We actually had good homemade food served on rolling carts in the hallway that you could smell as lunch approached and the other students were served. We didn’t have a cafeteria. We brought our trays back to our classrooms and ate there. A great day brought homemade pizza and chocolate pudding. Good times.
Picture #2-Hubby waiting for all the Hula-gen's to shut up and get in the car already.
