Anita VP

Since we’re staying with my husband’s parents while in between houses, the tiny humans and I have had much more time than ever before to observe and enjoy things from his years growing up.   The current decided favorite of mine from his past is a library of informational, mostly-nonfiction books put out by Walt Disney. With topics ranging from science to riddles to shapes and colors, these books each highlight the titled subject matter in true nostalgic Disney fashion.   Presenting the material in an age-appropriate and balanced fashion, these books really feel like the most adorable vintage read.   Perfect for the young child.   My personal choice thus far has been the It's A Small World book, inspired by the ride itself, highlighting children in countries around the world. Perhaps equally sweet is the cursive note inside from his grandmother and his subsequent claiming of the books – his own name written in chunky red marker, letters perfectly ben...

For fun, let's do something different today: A tribute to Eric Carle and my favorite hangry person The Very Hangry Caterpillar In the light of the moon, an egg of a head lay on a pillow. On Saturday morning, the hot unwelcome sun came peeking out too soon – pop! – and out of the bed rolled a large and very hangry dad. He started to look for some food. First, he ate through one banana. But he was still hungry. Next, he ate through two slices of toast. But he was still hungry. Then, he ate through three eggs. But he was still hungry. After that, he ate through four measly berries. He was, of course, still hungry… and hangry. Following that, he tore ravenously through five clementines. But daddy dearest was still hangry. That Saturday, sweet mama fixed him all the food she could find and he ate one blueberry muffin, one Snickers ice cream bar, one bag of beef jerky, one huge hunk of white cheddar, one heaping portion of s...

Largely in part, houses are just domiciliary buildings and it’s the people with whom you live that make it into a home.   But it perhaps withstands to say that for someone who has resided in the same house for a significant enough time, certain unique features of a house may be missed after a move.   Of all the things, I think I may miss my kitchen sink. That’s right.   I may miss my kitchen sink.   (Queue cliché phrase of “we’re taking everything but the kitchen sink.”)   It’s a dark colored composite sink.   I like that it seems to keep clean easier than some sinks and the faucet is nice, but that’s not really what it’s about.   I’ve heard it said that a sink filled with dirty dishes represents happy mouths having been fed.   It couldn’t be more true.   Countless used dishes in my sink here have been used by people I love, with food that I gladly prepared.   Thus in turn, my empty sink has symbolized full circle accompl...

One of my favorite things is when I get the sensation that I am actively, in that very moment, living out something that should be from a story.  Last Wednesday, Macho Man and I were out at a family-owned Mexican restaurant.  There was a middle-aged gentleman at a keyboard providing live entertainment.  I thought to myself, “live traditional music is pretty good for a Wednesday.”  We order our usuals of Tacos al Pastor (yum) and Arroz Con Pollo.  We begin to scarf down our chips and salsa like we’ve never eaten before – and then I paused.  Na na.. “Is that Hava Nagila?”  Na na.. Macho Man, mouth still full of chips, stopped crunching to listen too.  Hava... “That’s Hava Nagila.”  Hava Nagila... It was Hava Nagila.  Hava Nagila Mexican style, on a Casio keyboard.  I don’t know which story I was in there for a moment – but it was awesome! In the literary sense, juxtaposition is showing contrast by placing concepts sid...

My husband is a true man’s man – a macho man.   Physically, mentally, socially, emotionally, etc.   And I wouldn’t have him any other way.   He’s big and bulky and buff and gruff.   He has a beard most men would envy.   He makes grunts Tim Allen style and he may be convinced that a little snus has him turned into a sexual tyrannosaurus.   When asked what he wants to eat, the answer typically is “meat.”   He, and I quote, “[doesn’t] have to work out, [he gets] to work out.”   Little bit Paul Bunyan, little bit Spartan, little bit Teddy Roosevelt, little bit Marlboro Man.   From here on out, we can call him Macho Man.   Every fiber of his being is characterized by testosterone – a bona fide, red-blooded, he-man. I’d like to think my feminine charm is some form of black magic antidote.   Perhaps it is – at least in a small and sufficient enough way.   Nonetheless, my black magic or otherwise, we make a great part...