Grampa, Tell Me 'Bout The Good Old Days

I borrowed that title from a Judds single from...well...a lot of years ago.  Since I’m climbing my family tree and dragging y’all with me--cuz that’s how I roll--I was thinking about each of my grandparents last night.

It was hard to find a picture of Grampa Prokasky, but this
one seemed nice of mom's family

My Grampa Emil Prokasky died long before I arrived so I don’t have any memories of him at all, but I do feel a connection to him.  After he died, my Gramma Prokasky kept Grampa’s old tobacco pipe in a bureau drawer in the living room.  When I would stay overnight with Gramma, she would let me fill up a dishpan with water and Joy dishwashing soap and take Grampas’ old pipe and blow bubbles out on the back steps.  There is a very unique smell from Joy mixing with old pipe tobacco, and that’s the memory/connection that I will carry forever.

Gramma Prokasky is on the right, Gramma Brehmer is
on the left

My Gramma Clara Prokasky was the grandparent I remember most because she lived the longest, and our family spent more time with the Prokasky side than the Brehmer side.  What I remember most about Gramma is that she like to drive fast and if you showed up at lunchtime at her house, you were going to be served a Cheez Whiz sandwich, a Hostess snowball cake, and instant Sanka coffee.  If it was a holiday, the beverage choice was Pfeiffer’s beer or Mogan David wine.  When I would stay there for several days, I remember we played a lot of Rook and watched Lawrence Welk.  I don’t even know if Rook (similar to 500) is still available or not, but apparently we bent the rules because there should be four players, and we only ever had the two of us.

Not sure which grandkid this is, but that's Grampa Brehmer, and
that sure looks like a glass of alcohol!!

My Grampa Albert Brehmer always carried peppermint candy (the big pink chalky-type things).  In his later years when he lived with us off and on, I remember walking around my mom’s massive vegetable garden with Grampa, and he would sneak me three or four peppermints when Mom and Dad weren’t looking.  I remember using his walker (after he passed away) to learn how to ride a unicycle.

I guess when she took the apron off, she embraced her wild side!

My Gramma Clara Brehmer died when I was only 7 years old, so I don’t have solid memories of her, just vague impressions.  Mostly I remember that she always wore a full-length apron; the kind looked like bib overalls in the front and then had the apron skirt that went all the way around and tied n the back.  Or buttoned, actually, now that I think harder about it.

Grampa and Gramma Prokasky lived on a small acreage between Rochester and Oronoco in the TINY house!  You came in the front door and could take a right down the stairs to the basement or a left up 2-3 stairs to the kitchen.  In the basement, I remember she had an old cast iron 2-burner wood cook stove.  Hmmm, I wonder what happened to that.  Anyway.  The kitchen was small with just a table, fridge, and a row of cabinets and countertop that made a little “L.”  There was a pocket door between the kitchen and the living room, which was the biggest room in the house.  At the back of the house off the living room was a hallway with a  linen closet with a laundry chute door in the floor, a bathroom to the right, and her bedroom to the left.  Upstairs was a small bedroom and a small storage room.

Grampa and Gramma Brehmer lived in a little house in Rochester near Goose Egg Park.  They had a little front porch with blue trim.  I think theirs was what is called a shotgun layout.  You walked into the living room, then to the dining room, and then to the kitchen.  Which, by the way, I remember being the size of my shower.  Their bedroom, I believe, was off the dining room and there must have been a bathroom someplace but I don’t remember where.  From the kitchen you could go down 2-3 steps to a landing and either go right down the stairs to the basement or left out the backdoor to the back yard.  Their backyard was mostly flower gardens.  When they lived on the farm, Gramma was the flower person, but once they moved to town, Grampa got involved and took to it like a duck to water.  I remember they had this big plastic chicken with wire prongs that they could stick into the ground so it looked like this chicken was standing in the middle of the yard.  I remember Big Brother and I stayed overnight there one time, and we got to walk several blocks by ourselves to Cook Park to play, but we stayed too long and Grampa had to come looking for us.  I think we stopped at a little ice cream shop on the way home, but that may be a total fabrication of my imagination.  Big Brother would/should know!

I would love to hear from my Brehmer cousins about their memories of Grampa and Gramma Brehmer so I could pass those stories along to my kids.

Heritage

Image courtesy of FindMyAncestry.com

I have been spending a lot of time watching my streaming PBS channel while I crochet.  Being that the weather is not conducive to being outside (with the exception of Snow Shoe Day), there isn't a lot else to do.  One show that has gotten me hooked is called Finding Your Roots with Henry Louis Gates, Jr., who researches the genealogy of celebrities. 

This made me remember that I have documentation of my dad's mom's family which I have never really paid attention to.  My Gramma Brehmer died when I was pretty young.  I have vague memories of her but nothing really concrete.  I have no idea who her parents or siblings were, and isn't that a shame. 

I dug up the genealogy document that my uncle gave to me last year to peruse through it.  I recognized a lot of the surnames:  Schwanke, Siem, Fenske. 

Image courtesy of Teach Me Genealogy.com

As I was reading through it, I came across an excerpt from a newspaper, dated May 5, 1911, that made me realize that my kids came by their saloon game naturally:

"William Benike (a cousin or uncle or some relative to my paternal grandmother) suffers big loss in bad blaze on Tues.

About all that was left of Potsdam was wiped out by fire Tuesday.  The blaze being caused by the chimney at noon time.  The family were at dinner and had a close call, not discovering the roof overhead in flames until it was nearly ready to fall in.  The structure and barn is a total loss, while a few household goods and the bar of the saloon conducted by Mr. Benike were saved."

The document goes on to recount a memory of William's son, Oskar:  Oskar Benike would tell of days his father, William, owned a saloon in Potsdam.  They would go to Rochester to bring liquor back to Potsdam in a wagon.  Gangs of thieves would be waiting at the present location of the outdoor theater on Hwy. 62.  William would tell Oskar to lie down in the wagon and would lace the horses when they were near there. 

So I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that my kids like to play saloon!

On the other side of the family, I discovered a tidbit about my maternal grandfather the other night when I went to visit my aunt Donna.  She was showing me a recent antique doll she had been gifted that was manufactured circa World War I.  She said that she had an affinity for World War I because on the day her father was supposed to ship out overseas to join the fighting, the Armistice Day treaty was signed--November 11, 1918.  On November 11, 1940, my aunt Donna was born.

I never, ever knew that Grampa was that close to serving in World War I.  I don't remember my mom ever talking much about her family; more likely, she did talk about it and I just didn't listen. 

Image courtesy of AZ Quotes

The other thing I discovered about Grampa Prokasky was that he shares a birthday with Molly!  Granted, he died long before I was born, but that still seems like something I should have known. 

Staying in the Prokasky family, it's always been a point of pride--I don't know why--that my Gramma Prokasky was a maid for Dr. Plummer and his family and lived at the Plummer House during her employment there.  It's not like that makes me related to the Plummer family at all, but it's a connection to the history of my family and the history of my community.  That's kind of cool. 

Whenever I can talk about the fiasco of Molly's birth certificate without getting angry, I always say I should have petitioned the court to change her name legally so that her middle name was Claire (instead of Ann) in honor of my two grammas who were both named Clara.  If I'd had the money at the time, I would have done it. 

Image courtesy of www.tmgenealogy.com

I wish I would have paid more attention to my elders when they talked about their elders so I would know more of my family history than I do.  That would be my advice to my children and grandchildren:  Let us tell you so you know where you came from.  Ask us questions.  Listen to our stories.  Embrace your heritage!

Remembering Bear

Photo courtesy of Tanya's Adoption Network

Hello, all.  Dipstick the Dog here.  I asked Mrs. Captain if I could have the blog today so I could say thank you to everybody who sent condolences to me and Dayzee on the death of my father and her husband, Bear.

Bear lived an awfully good life.  When the Captains moved back here to the home farm in 2007, they brought Dayzee with them.  Bear was living at the neighbor's and, being a good neighbor, he came to welcome the Captains and Dayzee to the neighborhood.

It was love at first sight, and he never left after that.  He stayed here with his one true love, Dayzee, for the next 12 years.  He never said, but I know he was a proud father as well. 

My family and I have enjoyed so much quality time together barking at leaves, brainwashing cats into thinking they are dogs, chasing cars, and watching the Captains chase cattle.

Bear was the lucky one of the bunch who had the softest coat thanks to his Labrador genes.  He loved to be petted and was actually sort of a pest about it.  Young Man Captain used to pick Bear up and hold him like he was a baby even though Bear weighed over 75 pounds.

We will miss Bear around here, especially Dayzee.  I was worried about her the first few days after Bear died; she grieved kind of hard.  She seems better now, though, but she is showing her age more than ever.

As the new "man of the place," I have taken over Bear's duties of walking with Captain to do his chores and feed the calves.  I'm trying to like being petted as much as Bear did, but I"m not a touchy-feely kind of dog so I'm struggling with that.

Barking at leaves isn't nearly as much fun without Bear, so I've mostly given up on that nightly activity.  Mostly I am guarding the barn and watching over Dayzee.  These snowy days are good for curling up in the straw bed in the barn and napping.

Image courtesy of Bully Rescue & Advocacy Group, Inc.

Again, thank you to everyone who sent their sympathies.  Good friends like you make hard times like this easier.

Until next time,
Dipstick

Harbingers of Spring

I knew that spring was REALLY coming the other night when I fell asleep planning a garden instead of my next scrapghan.  Plus, Greenhouse Day was February 11th.  That's the day that the earth has tilted southward on its axis enough that there is heat in the sun's rays--enough heat the the garden centers can fire up their greenhouses to start the little plants going so I can plant the garden I was dreaming of. 

Greenhouse Day is way more accurate to my mind than the unreliable rodent from the East Coast!

Mother Nature must have gotten the memo also that winter is going to have to give up the ghost soon--please, please, please--and blessed us over the weekend with a beautiful day full of warm (ish) temperatures, blue skies, and lots of sun.

Captain and I took advantage of the mild weather and had a date day.  We had this planned for over a week and I was so excited about it I told everyone I saw about it.  I know, I'm a nerd and it doesn't take much to excite me.  Ask my coworker who listened to me rhapsodize about a pen I liked. 

Anyway, date day.  We are not fancy dinner people, we are not casino people, we are not movie theater people.  We are outdoors city, county, and state park people.  As such our plan was to snow shoe at Oxbow Zoo near Byron. 

Captain had to do chores at a neighbor's in the morning but he was home by 11:00 and we got ready.  Or, we tried to get ready.  Or, more accurately, Captain got ready and waited for me.  I have a pair of muck boots that are great for winter activities.  I have hat and mittens that keep my extremities warm.  I do not own long underwear or snow pants.  I have fleece leggings and a second-hand snowmobile suit that is starting to rip out in the butt.

This is why I was struggling into the pair of snowpants that Molly left here last year when she went ice fishing with her dad.  Remember, Molly is taller and slimmer than I am.  I am what my mom described as squat and sturdy. 

The legs of the snowpants were three inches too long, and I couldn't get the zipper up by myself.  I had to hold the two sides together while Captain zipped me up. 

And then I realized I had to pee.

So then it was reverse the whole dressing thing, pee, and do the dressing thing all over again.  By now I was sweaty, short of breath due to tight snow pants, and ready to get this over with. 

So off we went. 

At Oxbow Zoo, we saw several groups in the parking lot and outside the nature center preparing to cross country ski, but we were the only ones getting snow shoes.  For $3 a pair, it was the cheapest entertainment around!

Captain is trying to figure out his buckles

We snowshoed at Oxbow several years ago, and I am glad to say they have upgraded their rental equipment.  What we had the first time reminded me of tennis rackets with twine string on them.  This time it was the fancy-schmancy aluminum frame ones with straps and buckles.  Lots of straps and lots of buckles.

Eventually we got all strapped in and off we went.  We headed toward the campground via the children's interpretative play area.  Goodness, things look a lot different covered in snow than covered in grass! 

Captain celebrating his inner child

   

Even with the newer equipment, it took awhile to get into the rhythm of walking in snowshoes.  I had to stop every five minutes or so to rest my legs.  I used the excuse of photography to mask my true intent!  Still, I got some nice pictures. 

That's Captain down there waiting for me

Doesn't this look like a little railroad track?!

We looped around through the campground walking beside the cross-country ski trail.  The way they groom it, it looks like a little railroad track!  As we were "resting" in a campsite where we have actually camped in the past, a man came along the ski trail.  I asked him if I could take his picture because the vast whiteness against the blue sky behind him was just too impressive to pass up.  He was a good sport about having the weird old fat lady ask for his picture. 

We continued on along the river over to the picnic area with a bridge across the river.  We have had many picnics in this area over the years, and I have actually played with Cubby on this playground set. 

As we got closer to the bridge, we saw a family group coming across on snowshoes.  They stopped at the top of the steps down the bridge and contemplated the best way to descend.  The two pre-teen boys just plopped on their butts and slid down.  The dad and grampa came down backwards becuase they could dig their toes (with metal gripper teeth) into the snow.  Mom and gramma came down sideways one step at a time holding onto the railing for dear life. 

We stayed back to give them room, but did call out our congratulations on getting down the steps.  At this point, these two pre-teen boys went R-U-N-N-I-N-G across the snow in their snowshoes.  Up to that point, I had been feeling pretty righteous about my snowshoeing capabilities, but now I was a sail with the wind sucked out.

Since standing on that bridge happens to be a tradition of ours when we visit Oxbow, we ascended the steps as well and I did get some nice pictures.  Excuse Captain's shadow; I could avoid it.  When it was time to go back down the steps, I apparently forgot the lesson I'd learned watching the other people do it.  Instead of going down backwards, I tried going down sideways holding onto the railing for dear life.  Yeah, not so graceful but at least I didn't end up on my butt. 

We followed along the river for a little ways and then looped back because someone's (that'd be me) legs were getting sore and crampy.  I'm pretty sure Captain could have kept going for another hour.  I guess that new hip of his is working well. 

Back at the nature center, we returned our snowshoes and then wandered out to the zoo to see who was awake. 

Not the otters, darn it!  The wolves were awake and moving and actually came over to sniff in Captain's direction.  We decided it was because he was wearing his chore coat and probably smelled like supper. 

The zoo staff were just feeding the bobcat and lynx when we got there, so that was fun to watch.  And we learned something new--I love when that happens!  Another group of visitors who were also watching the cat feeding routine noticed that in the next block of cages about 100 yards away, the foxes were anticipating their lunch by tearing around in circles in their pens. 

Deciding that lunch was a darn good idea, we loaded up and headed to McDonalds in Byron.  Normally we avoid fast food places, but we didn't want to waste time taking off our outer gear to be presentable to go to a sit down place. 

By the time we got back home, we were both pretty tired, but it was a good kind of tired.  The kind of tired from having been active and energetic. 

I know that Mother Nature will throw more rounds of winter at us before I can actually plant that garden I dreamed about, but getting out into the fresh air and sunshine for awhile will help me get through whatever she has in mind. 

Plus I got to spend the day with my guy!  Isn't he the cutest thing?

That's my guy!

Nativity

I am happy to report--not that you probably care--that I have a full and varied Christmas playlist on Pandora this year so I am not struggling with that like I did a couple of years ago.  Neither are we recovering from or preparing for surgery this year.  Thank goodness!!

As I was getting ready to do some decorating, I looked at my living room and realized that I would have to completely rethink my decorating because we redid the entertainment center.  The old entertainment center had always been our focal point of decorations where I displayed my multiple Nativity sets.

Why do I have many sets, you ask?  It's a psychological response to the house fire we had that destroyed the treasured Nativity set that Captain gave me the Christmas before we got married.  That set was THE ONE and then it was gone, so I have to have more.  I have a simple Holy Family, a porcelain set, a wax set, and a paper maiche type set that my friend Skippy gave us to replace the one that burned in the fire.

This all made me think of the Nativity set of Mom's from my childhood.  I"m not entirely certain about it's origin but I think Dad bought it for her their first Christmas.  At any rate, it was the set that we put out every year when I was a kid.  We used real straw from the hay barn in our stable.  There was the Holy family, a shepherd with a couple of sheep, the kings and their camel, a cow, and a donkey.  The angel had a hanger on her back that went onto a hook at the peak of the stable so it looked like she was hovering there.

Eventually the camel's hump got broken off, the cow's ear--and then her entire head--got broken off, and the donkey got broke in half so the ass had no ass.  :)  Even with all the wounded and casualties, I don't think Mom ever considered replacing it.  Even when Dad passed away and she decorated by herself, she still put it out.  Even when she stopped decorating at all, she hung onto it.  I know this because we found it when we cleaned out her condo.

The other Nativity set I remember from my youth is the life-size wooden figures that our youth group at the Potsdam Church cut out and painted one weekend when I was in high school.  Those wooden figures were put up along the road in front of the Potsdam Church for a lot of years after my peers and I were long gone.  I always got warm fuzzies when I would drive by and see them.

Back to this year's decorating theme.  I also now am the proud and thrilled owner of an oil painting of the Holy family.  It is a 20x30 painting, so it takes up quite a bit of wall space.  I'm having a hard time finding the right place for it.  Part of the problem is that I try to use existing nails/hooks and none of them were pounded in with this painting in mind.  Gammy will help me figure it out; she is the best at wall decor ever!

The other thing that I do at this time of year that I don't do at most other times of the year is baking.  I will whip out the occasional batch of molasses cookies for Captain, but usually I reserve my baking energy for Christmas. 

Coincidentally, this holiday season I spent a lot of time binge watching The Great British Baking Show on Netflix.  Side note:  their talents makes my pride in a rice krispie treat look pathetic. 

But I digress. 

Watching this show apparently gave me delusions of grandeur (how hard can it be, right?) so that I went rogue on the Brogan tried-and-true recipe for mint brownies.  I got this recipe from Gammy when Captain and I got married, and I have made them every year. 

The recipe calls for the brownie batter to be baked in a jelly roll pan and then cooled, then frosted with green mint-flavored frosting, and then covered in a chocolate ganache (I learned that on the GBBS). 

I could certainly jazz that up, right?  Sure!  So my bright idea was that instead of a jelly roll pan, I would use cupcake papers.  Bloody brilliant, as the Brits say. 

My first dilemma is that I have one cupcake tin with only six slots in it.  Putting that in and out of the oven 8 times would make me nuts.  Then I remembered a kitchen hack I saw on Facebook to use canning jar rims as a holder for the cupcake papers.  So I ended up using the jelly roll pan anyway, but for a completely different purpose. 

I used my cookie scoop to fill the cupcake papers so that each one would be uniform size (because Paul Hollywood demands this) which actually went as planned.  When I taste tested one, however, I realized my second dilemma was that I had used twice the amount of granulated sugar as the recipe called for.  Ooops.  At least I hadn't used salt instead of sugar, which I have seen happen on the GBBS. 

Anyhoo, while the brownies were cooling, I mixed up the frosting which is just powdered sugar, a little milk, a splash of mint, and some green food coloring.  My third and fourth dilemmas occurred at this step.  I realized that I was out of green food coloring, so I winged it with blue and yellow, ending up with a sickly blue-green frosting.  Then, just as I was pouring the mint extract into the 1/2 teaspoon measuring spoon...I sneezed.  Anyone who knows me knows this to be a violent physical reaction so they will not be surprised that instead of 1/2 teaspoon of mint in the frosting, there is more like 3 teaspoons of mint.  Does Scope mouthwash mean anything to anybody?!  Uff da!  Nonetheless, I had to work with what I had, just as they do on the GBBS, so I went with it.  I piped the minty frosting on each brownie and spread it around with the back of a spoon. 

After that layer had cooled and set up, I melted the chocolate chips and butter for my chocolate ganache, which I then spooned onto each brownie.  That step actually went according to recipe and plan. 

End result:  Paul Hollywood would be horrified and never shake my hand over these, but they are edible.  Plus now I know that the whole concept works if I just follow the directions precisely. 

Whether it's the music, the lights, the decorations, or the holiday treats...or hey, all of the above...that bring you joy, here's wishing you a very Merry Christmas from the Brogans!

Images used:

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https://www.marieclaire.co.uk/entertainment/christmas-memes-459662

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End of harvest

Captain will be winding down harvest over the next couple of days.  I have to say that this fall has been nothing but one frustration after another here at Chez Brogan.

First off, the neighbor that has helped Captain for the last ten years passed away this summer, so Captain has been missing his friend these last weeks.  A positive side to this is that Young Man and Cubby have been helping so we have had more time with them than we usually do.

Not even halfway into harvest, our old combine had finally had enough and went to the Great Scrapyard in the sky.  A positive note here is that we were able to find a replacement quickly, and Captain says it has been fun using a machine where "hey...everything works!"

Last weekend as Captain was really getting going on corn harvest, our semi, which Captain lovingly calls The Little Pete, also gave up the ghost and died on us.  Another positive note, we were able to arrange with CHS in Kasson to haul the remainder of our crop for us at a lower cost than what buying a different semi would be.

While Captain is off fighting those battles, I am waging my own war on the home front.  Calf Country has been a struggle this fall as we have had a bug move through our babies, and we lost a few before we found an effective protocol to detect and treat the virus before it could really take hold in any more babies.

Part of this protocol is that I walk through their little calf neighborhood every two hours to make sure no one is deathly ill.  Should I happen to find one that is even remotely "off," the rest of the protocol kicks in which involves administration of electrolytes, antibiotic, and an anti-diarrhea medication.  With this action plan, we have decreased morbidity rates to almost nil.  Go us!

Apparently feeling smug about one thing just causes another thing to happen.  Once we got that GI thing under control, we had a couple of babies do this weird thing where their tongues would stick out the side of their mouths while they were trying to suck a bottle...which just plain didn't work.  I remember my mom had that in a batch of her calves back in the day, but I can't remember what it is or how to treat it.  The calves generally outgrow or get over that oddity within a day or two, but it's annoying to deal with it while it's happening.

The other thing--on a much brighter note--that has been new this fall is that Gammy and I have been walking three mornings a week at the high school.  It's a community education offering, and we are amazed that we are the only ones who are taking advantage of it.  I really thought there would be oodles of people walking those hallways!  Not so; it's just me and Gammy.  That's okay, though.  We get nearly 5,000 steps in before 7:15 a.m., plus we solve a lot of world problems while we are at it!

As we get ready to gather with friends and family for Thanksgiving, I need to remind myself to quit being a whiny ass and be grateful for what I have:  my health, a good job, family that is close by and close-knit, and good friends with whom I can share my joys and burdens.

From Chez Brogan to your chez, Happy Thanksgiving!!

Images used:
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Jekyll & Hyde

All this talk of costumes and dressing up that I've been doing lately made me remember something our kids did.  It involved costumes, props, and scripts.  It was imagination at its best.  Young Man would decide on any given night, "Let's play church." 

Our kids, good like Catholics! 

So they got the VCR cabinet pulled out and partially opened up to make a pulpit.  They would line up the dining room chairs as pews.  Young Man would get my bathrobe to use as priestly vestments.

Poor Molly, she was the congregant who had to listen to Young Man's hellfire and brimstone sermons, and let me tell you, he could get fired up and be a real Judgey McJudgemuffin!  Then it was time for communion, so they broke out the bite-size tortilla rounds.  Molly would be sitting in the front "pew," get up to receive her "wafer" then go back, sit in the second pew for a couple of seconds, and repeat the process until she had processed for communion from all four pews. 

This is where it gets interesting, lest you think my kids were practicing for ordination in the convent and seminary.  After Young Man gave his benediction and dismissed church, he would say, "Okay, let's play saloon!"

I'm not kidding even a little bit. 

Church was transformed into a saloon by replacing the robe with a barkeep apron, opening the VCR cabinet up all the way to make a bar, lining up the dining room chairs as bar stools, and getting empty beer bottles from the recycle bin and filling them up with water to serve.  Young Man was the barkeep and poor Molly...she was the down and out town drunk. 

Our kids, good little Irish souls!

I'm fairly certain that only our kids would go from holy to unholy in the blink of an eye.  It was almost a Jekyll and Hyde thing. 

Which got me thinking about how most of us...okay, maybe it's just us...who have two sides of the same coin in our personality. 

For example, in my case, I tend to be a free spirit, go-with-the-flow kind of person and don't have OCD habits.  Except for hanging clothes on the line.  I know that the clothes will dry no matter where they get hung on the line, but it literally makes me grind my teeth to see Captain put three items on one line, two items on another line, four items on the next line, and one item on the last line. 

Dude, seriously?!?!

The proper way (meaning MY way) to hang clothes is to start at the left end of the first line and work your way all the way to the other end of that line, and then go to the left end of the next line.  Repeat as needed.  It's logical.  I don't know why that is my organizational kryptonite, but it is. 

So the opposite side of that coin is that once the clothes are dried and folded...I don't put them in their drawers.  I usually (a) leave them on the laundry table and take them as I need them or (b) take the pile off the laundry table--because I got told in no uncertain terms that it was not the responsibility of the clothes folder to also deliver the clothes--and carry it up to my bedroom and put the pile on the cedar chest at the edge of the bed and take them from there as I need them.  Go ahead and judge me, I don't care.  I want there to be full disclosure there before I move on the Captain's OCD quirk.

So Captain is in charge of unloading the clean dishes from the dishwasher.  His organizational kryptonite is that the plates have to be stacked according to pattern.  We have about six different sets of plates, so this gets to be something of a pain in the butt.  But it's his thing.  Fine. 

However.

The bowls, which should be stacked according to size so that they nest nicely, are shoved in there haphazardly so that they look like the Leaning Tower Of Pizza.  I don't get it, but I've learned not to criticize because I've had that whole pile of clothes thing tossed back at me (and rightfully so). 

But I digress.  Back to our kids going from church to bar.  I think it shows that they know how to work hard and follow the rules, and they also know how to play hard and enjoy life so that it doesn't become a drudgery. 

Our kids...just plain good people!

Images used:
http://www.quotemaster.org/images/fa/fa1b6c1688b7b7fc14b0841b2e1490b5.jpg
https://www.brainyquote.com/photos_tr/en/a/alberteinstein/121643/alberteinstein1.jpg
http://clipart-library.com/clipart/338073.htm