I Survived The Birthday Party!

Oldest Urchin's pool birthday party was last Saturday night, and I did not walk away unscathed. (Shocking, I know.)

First, as we came to a stop at the end of our street on our way to the pool, the crockpot containing hotdogs that I'd been cooking most of the day, tipped over and spilled its entire contents--greasy water and all--onto the floor of the minivan. (Our beleaguered van is over a dozen years old, and apparently angers the local deer population as its been attacked by one deer and had numerous near misses.)

Based on smell, and yes, a little on appearance, I am now the pilot of the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile.

Ahh, the glory of my life.

Since the hot dogs and mac-n-cheese were the main staples of what I was serving that night, we had to stop and buy emergency pizzas on the way.  Little Caesar's was the only place en route. I'll just say here, I'm not a fan.

In the over-exuberance of Oldest Urchin and her friends, the beginning of the party resembled the caddy swim in Caddyshack. Thankfully minus the doody.



And what is it with giving cash to an eleven year old? At least 3 of the kids gave Oldest a card with five bucks inside as their present. Totally weird.

In the end though, a good time was had by all. And as we drove away into the sunset, the smell of overcooked hot dogs wafting from our open windows, the girls declared it a rollicking good time. So for my sanity and the sake of the photo album, I'm calling it a total win.

So. How was your weekend?

This Isn't A Post

Really. Go to the previous post. Or click on the topic appropriate re-runs below. This is just a post about how I'm going to post soon.

I'm home from vacation. The back yard carnival is over, and Oldest Urchin's birthday is coming up. Which means, not only am I getting around to your blogs again, Tongue In Cheek will be chock full of epic craziness soon.

But for now, you can enjoy an epic craziness post from last summer's vacation to tide you over involving dueling banjos and a crazed muumuu search.

And new posts will be coming soon. (You've been warned.)

I Dig Them Up

It's up to you to decide whether or not to watch them. Here are some ca-RAAA-zy videos. Warning: you will never get the time back that you spent watching them. Plus, you may never get over it. Tongue In Cheek and its affiliates are not responsible for loss of time or brain cells in the watching of these videos. Watch at your own risk.

First--Charo


Next--Hasselhoff


I share with love. Truly. You needed to know these things existed. You're now a better person.

You're welcome.

A Vacation Re-Run

The Quinns are on vacation. So feel for me. I'm camping. At the beach. To some this sounds great. To me? Not so much. Anywho...I'm embarrassed to tell you how long ago this re-run is from.  So just sit back and enjoy my country music song writer envy.

Country music song writers are great storytellers. As you may have read a few posts back, redneck seems to be rubbing off on me because I recently started listening to country music. But I have to say that I've gained a great deal of respect for them this year.

In the past I thought of country music as some kind of twisted joke. I was convinced the old saying was true. What do you get when you play a country song backwards? You get your car back, your wife back, your heart back, your old hound dog back, your house back, etc. I never for a second thought that I'd be appreciative of their skill in setting scenes and evoking emotion with only a few lines. Lines that rhyme to boot! As a writer this fascinates me. These authors create an evocative story that can be told in three minutes. For instance, here's one of my recent favorites penned and sung by Dierks Bentley--What Was I Thinking. Check out this beginning.

Becky was a beauty from south Alabama.
Her Daddy had a heart like a nine pound hammer.
I think he even did a little time in the slammer.
What was I thinkin'?

Those are the first four lines of his hit What Was I Thinkin'? The second line is awesome! Such description! Definite use of hook in my opinion.

Tim McGraw and The Warren Brothers wrote this next one. It's a fictionalized letter prepared by a soldier in case he dies in the line of duty. It's called If You're Reading This, and I can't listen to it because it makes me cry every time, but that doesn't mean I don't love it. Here's a section out of the middle.

If you’re reading this
Half way around the world
I won’t be there to see the birth of our little girl
I hope she looks like you
I hope she fights like me
Stands up for the innocent and the weak
I’m laying down my gun
I’m hanging up my boots
Tell dad I don’t regret that I followed in his shoes

So lay me down
In that open field out on the edge of town
And know my soul
Is where my momma always prayed that it would go
And if you’re reading this
I’m already home

The emotion evoked is stellar. Something I feel that I don't go far enough with in my writing. I can't seem to open up enough, or be courageous enough, to pour my emotions into my writing, which inevitably, I believe, will hold it back.

Here's some great setting and character description from Redneck Yacht Club by Craig Morgan.

Bass-trackers, Bayliners and a party barge,
Strung together like a floating trailer park,
Anchored out and gettin' loud all summer long.
Side by side, there's five houseboat front porches,
Astroturf, lawn chairs and tiki torches.
Regular Joes rocking the boat, that's us:
The Redneck Yacht Club.

Bermuda's, flip-flops and a tank-top tan:
He popped his first top at ten a.m.: that's Bob,
He's our president.

I love the description of their president. Nineteen words, and he's captured. I can completely visualize him.

And as a romance writer, I have to put some sweet stuff in too. Here's the last verse of Little Moments by Brad Paisley.

When she's layin' on my shoulder on the sofa in the dark
And about the time she falls asleep so does my right arm
And I want so bad to move it 'cause it's tinglin' and it's numb
But she looks so much like an angel that I don't wanna wake her up
Yeah I live for little moments
When she steals my heart again and doesn't even know it
Yeah I live for little moments like that

So there's a few examples, all done with an economy of well-chosen words, perfectly strung together. Man, that's something as a writer I definitely am trying to aspire to.

No one who knew me in the past would ever believe that I'd become a country fan. It's got to be that redneck really is contagious. I refuse to believe anything else.