Just Another Day in Dover was created to document the crazy happenings in our day to day life.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Quote of the Day
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Mrs.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Piqua/Glee Connection
http://www.dailycall.com/main.asp?SectionID=86&SubSectionID=164&ArticleID=165782
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Screening 45365
Afternoon Fun
Donny and Molly decided to have an iced tea stand. When Donny found out people were going to give them money, he requested a bowl to put some chips in so he could sell them. He had stars in his eyes, I could tell he was looking for things to sell. They charged a quarter for each glass and provided water for the dogs.
Steamer
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Morning Walk
Still Here
Thursday, June 17, 2010
45365
Link to 45365 web-site:
http://www.45365movie.com/
Link to the trailer:
http://movies.nytimes.com/movie/457375/45365/trailers?trailersdir
Link to the NY Times review:
http://movies.nytimes.com/2010/06/17/movies/17four.html
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Sunscreen
http://www.ewg.org/2010sunscreen/
Touchdown Jesus
http://www.whiotv.com/news/23901668/detail.html
Monday, June 14, 2010
Stew's
http://www.stewleonards.com/
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Tradition
Big Red Ride
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Filling His Shoes
Oh Boy!
Ann Melvin Dallas Morning News 1998 Column on Graduation
The tumult dies.
The graduating seniors in their Ford pickups and secondhand Nissans depart.
For jobs, for the pool, for Grandma’s, for college, for a last, long loopy summer.
Forever.
Or until they need their clothes washed, whichever comes first.
Growing up a child is a series of leave-takings, from the first wobbly step away from the parent’s hand to the first day at school to the first slumber party to the first time he drives out of the driveway with a license.
But high school graduation is a leave-taking of high celebration and of irrefutable recognition that the child will be gone soon.
Too soon, when you remember the night we ran across the dark yard and laughed in pursuit of fireflies. Or the summer evening we drove through St. Louis and rolled down the windows as we crossed the Mississippi, singing “Ole Man River.”
Too soon, when you hear the back door slam and the call, “Mom, I’m home.”
And too soon when you review your own inadequacies as a parent.
As the slow line of caps and gowns files by, the parent sits suffused with pride and fear. “Doesn’t he look handsome?” mingles with a collage of worry:
“When was the last time we talked about God? Nietzsche? The balance of trade? Does he know how to balance a checkbook? Can she check the oil in her car? What about Winston Churchill and ‘The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere’ and Aunt Maggie, who worked as a welder during World War II? Did we tell ‘em that?”
Parents universally want to stand up and holler, “Stop, these kids don’t know enough yet. They don’t fasten the twistie on the bread sack or hang up their clothes or put the milk back in the refrigerator, and you want to turn them out on the world?? Stop!! I forgot to make sure that he prays every night and that she understands HMOs, Social Security and the Roman influence on modern jurisprudence, and did I tell him often enough that I love him?”
“Another year, I need another year.”
But the caps are in the air, the gowns are back in the rental barrel, and we all are standing out on the sidewalk, smiling and crying. Then we go home.
An old carnation begins to shrivel on the bedroom mirror. Notes paper the wall around the telephone, and schedules are leafed like shingles on the refrigerator.
Dress shoes lie askew under the chair, the celebration ham gives up leftovers, and old snapshots spill out of a shoe box on the table.
The first baseball uniform, Christmas at Grandma’s, the seventh-grade gang posing in front of the school bus at the Alamo, the first bicycle with training wheels, party photos from the prom . . . a Kodak collection of split seconds in the start of what you pray will be a good life.
The graduate is in the driveway, leaving again.
You go out, moved to speak your mind.
“I hope you were happy,” you want to say. “I hope life will go well for you. I hope you know I tried my best, and while I know it wasn’t always perfect, I tried to do the best I could for you. Whatever you have learned from me, it isn’t enough, not about life or the world or anything.”
“But I hope you can stand on my shoulders, reach higher and go farther with the little boost I gave you.”
Instead you say, “Do you have enough money? Fasten your seat belt. And call me when you get there.”
Wherever that may be.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Turtle Park
When we arrived home, I realized as soon as we pulled into the driveway my house keys were sitting on a dresser in Larchmont. I let Donny out of the car to help me. When I turned around he had his pants around his ankles and was peeing in the yard. He is really making a habit of this. On Friday, he was out of the car for two minutes and peeing on a tree. Meanwhile, his sister had a piece of sidewalk chalk in each hand and was rubbing them all over her face saying, "Pretty, pretty, pretty." One was blue and the other white, she looked like Kate Winslet in Titanic.
With help from my little man, we were able to get into the house just in time for dinner. Once they were fed and bathed, two little children fell asleep within ten minutes.