Dinner with the AnderBurgs

(Trumpet fanfare)

DOO DOO-DOO-DOO!

On the fine "winter" day of the 28th of December, a Friday, the clan hath been reunited. 

They fought their way through the blistering Oklahoma cold, tamed a wretched plane ride through cloudy skies, strangers' snoring, and lack of a personal bubble, survived the fiery abyss of Atlanta airport (!!!), and gallantly flung themselves into the arms of the wack-jobs they gladly-- gladly?-- call friends.

So far so good-- no injuries, all eyes remain in their sockets, no one's lost anything (yet), no arrests, no calls from angry neighbors. I would conclude then, that yes! All is dandy and fun!

But then again, we haven't boarded the big boat yet. And that's when you would hear about it. But you won't. Because there is no Wifi on the big boat. No blogging on the big boat.

You will never know what happened on the big boat.

And it is probably better that way.

So for now, please bathe in the bright beams of our absolute adorable-ness!

Cruise Countdown: approximately 14 hours.

Bon voyage, landlubbers!!! 

Fa-la-la-la-la La-la-la-la

Ahhh, the windows are open, the air is crisp (by Florida standards), hot tea in hand, and all of the family is leisurely enjoying each other's Christmas joy and cheer...

I could go on, and get über nostalgic because I am very good at that sort of thing, but I won't because I think a better description of the Anderson family Christmas is this:

Last-minute Christmas shopping wrapping-- oh dear! I didn't get them a present dang it how many days how many hours how many minutes and seconds CRUISE oh no I can't wait ohthankgoodness it's just us and yes we miss you but no we don't need you to come and make it anything like National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and well no our family's not THAT dysfunctional but just in case because I don't want our tree to burn down or get any cats electrocuted or anything horrific of that sort---


Please enjoy these wacky gift ideas that Dad, Meredith and myself would very much desire while I continue this illegible babbling in the inner crevices of my over-schooled brain!

(Take notes.)

 If you know about my obsession with the 80s, you would understand. Of course, if I had this, I couldn't be a covert texter. And that, dear parents and teachers, is exactly why I need this 80s-tastic cellular telephone case.

 Dad says this might cure my Longshowertosis. I just think it's nifty and won't make as much noise as the kitchen timer.

 This simply doesn't need an explanation.

 "Ferris Bueller, you're my hero."

Amen, Cameron, amen.

 Coasters are so boring, but these. Holy moly it's toast.

 I might complain less about flossing. And Meredith might actually floss.

 Dying of laughter a little bit on the inside

 It's an inflatable dinosaur! This would look fabulous next to the flying pig in our front yard.

 You know, this would be such an eco-friendly gift, I would totally turn my lights off all the time! And it's a dimmer! Come on, who doesn't want a big red panic button?

I love socks! I love these socks! The person who designed these deserves a prize.

 Hehehe... Crab hat.

Save a Walrus today and adopt! You won't regret it!

That's 88 big ones to a good cause!

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Cruisin' Countdown: 14 DAYS

Nothing like a whole week of frantic Christmas shopping and homemade gift-making and a menagerie of homework to cram into the wee hours when not visiting family and going out with friends and--

Whew. Let me breathe.

As you can see, it's a little bit stressful here in the Anderson home. All we really want is to get on a boat and sail far, far away, with the sounds of ocean waves and maybe some Jimmy Buffett playing in the background. 

That's all. That's all we want. To turn off our cellular technologies and disappear off the face of the planet. Yes, Christmas is exciting, it's a nice detail, but....

Now, we're talkin'!

In two weeks, the AnderBurgs will be reunited.

In two weeks, the laughter and the buffet-food will flow, the stretchy pants will emerge from their drawers, the karaoke will screech far into the night! IN TWO WEEKS!!!

I'm not sure I can survive until then.

(And the world better not end.)

Dinner with the Turkkis

Though ordering pizza is not unsuitable for any Anderson Friday-night jamboree, I ventured out of the house for once to experience dinner with a family not of my own, one that doesn't put their pajamas on before 8 pm...

And so it was to be, dinner with la familia del Rolling Resistor!
(http://rollingresistor.blogspot.com)

"Haha!" they teased. I was bombarded. It was likely to be an only slightly milder rendition of Meet the Parents! But I assured them that no, Mom and Dad, they cannot be more terrifying than you.

Dad and I did not get lost! Okay, yes we did, but only early on, and you can barely call it getting lost. I promise.The short car-ride was non-scarring, mostly harmless, and I got to sit in the front seat. Fortunately. No lectures, no threats, just Lady Gaga blasting through the speakers and our discussions about how P!nk's break-up music sure beats that of Taylor Swift, the history of Elvis, and how I learned to fold epic, universe-speaking paper cranes out of Walt Whitman poems in English class.

It's always ever-so-fascinating to experience the dinnertime phenomena of other families. We feasted on some scrumptious sliders, mashed potatoes, and baked beans, and I got to indulge in this Swedish mustard that puts all other kinds of mustard to absolute shame. Apparently you can only get it in Sweden?? My family doesn't have cool mustard!!!
I suppose that's the other perk to eating at someone else's house- they always seem to have cooler foodstuffs, and in this case, cooler mustard.

Of course, pre-Swedish mustard, the Rolling Resistor and his two adorable siblings and myself challenged each other to a great game of monopoly. And guess what? They play monopoly more epic-ly, too. Who would've thought that one could be so serious about board-game real estate!

Post-mustard, I jammed out for the first time on Just Dance on Xbox Kinect, which I'm telling you is like the future (and almost as cool as the mustard). But mid-Party Rock Anthem we experienced an injury due to the large, clumsy left feet of Mr. Sasquatch over there, and little Henrik had to be airlifted from the dance floor. One more song and a dozen wacky dance moves later, we were conked out on the couch and chose to enlighten ourselves with some television. I've never seen it before, but Duck Dynasty is my new favorite. Holy cow. The beards and the camouflage and the squirrels completely make the show.

There was some really yummy strawberry shortcake somewhere in there, but soon enough, it was time for Anderson #3 to return to the Anderson HQ.

And if you were worried about any funny business occurring, I assure you, do not worry-- I was chauffeured home in a shiny, sleek minivan by the wonderful Turkki ladies, mom and sis, while in the backseat Bigfoot and I watched YouTube videos about how to be a ninja.

And back to the Andersons I went, realizing that well, we're all delightfully a little quirky and dysfunctional. Thank God for families!

It's not your 11th birthday without...

A celebration that spans a whole weekend!

A pre-party with egg rolls and cake and the crazy-- I mean the family!

(Moving right along, because we do love the crazy nutballs we share our blood and birthdays with...)

Donuts for breakfast!

A brand new bike!

A ginormous envelope!

(A ginormous envelope???)

An awesome homemade birthday card by yours truly!

COUPONS

And of course, it's not your birthday without....

A big sister to blog your most adorable baby photos!

(You're welcome!)

I love you to Neptune and back three-thousand four-hundred and twenty-eight times 

(and times that by fifty-seven thousand six-hundred and seventy-two)

And then square that.

And multiply by ten a few times.

And remember that there are plenty more where these came from!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEREDITH!!!!!

Thanksgiving with the Andersons

What? Did you not see this one coming? How could I not include the Anderson Thanksgiving?! That would be absolutely despicable!

We got started early, of course, because if you're going to feed this family you need more than a day to cook! This "beautacious" pumpkin pie was baked by yours truly and the Rolling Resistor (visit his awesome blog at http://rollingresistor.blogspot.com) on Saturday afternoon. Both first-timers, this pie was indeed monumental. Thank God it tasted monumental, too.

This gorgeous Thursday morning presented leftover donuts and a list of chores to prep the house for the maiden visit to our new house by King and Queen Anderson (aka Gram and Papa). Mom swirled around the kitchen, using her momtastic mommagic to concoct a tryptophan, carbohydrate extravaganza...

1:30-- Andersons arrive! After getting lost of course, because it seems no one can ever find our house the first time around.

Crackers and a funky cheese ball thingy are served, football is watched, conversation is made--- 

we wait.

And soon enough we find ourselves around the table, hand-in-hand, as Dad blesses the food. This moment might just be the best part of Thanksgiving, because even though we're drooling over overflowing plates, we have food on our plates. I have a family to drool over it with, and we roll out with enough turkey and stuffing in our bellies to last weeks on end. Even if the gravy was lumpy, or the dogs attacked the cheese ball while we weren't looking, I have the best life ever. And that is my pre-meal epiphany.

Now for the stuffing!

This year's menu featured all the favorites, and luckily, a buttload of leftovers to stock the fridge and make sandwiches until Christmas!

• Butterball Turkey
• Stuffing/Dressing, whatever floats your boat
• Cranberries, to smother the turkey
• Gravy, to smother everything
• Marshmallow Yams (secretly a dessert...)
• Rolls, to sop up all the smotherings you got carried away with
• and last and definitely least, green beans. Mom admitted that she felt we needed a green on the table. Let me inform you that she did not actually eat any.

6 empty plates later, or 5 empty plates later because I was still working on a hefty second portion, we fell into food comas and told old stories about this and that, and "back in the day..." and  got all nostalgic and sappy about everything families get sappy about. It was wonderful, I connote no sarcasm whatsoever, it was indeed quite nice.

Nice because, each story stalled the big stink awaiting me:

Thanksgiving dishes.

Now you know I don't mind dishes, it is my niche of the kitchen after all. But all you experienced short-stick drawers like me know that it takes some real elbow grease to scrape out that turkey pan. Whew. It takes endurance. That is not for the faint of heart.

After scrubbing the equivalent of a 5K, I was ready for dessert.

It was good.

Enough said.

(I don't remember too much, you know, I was in a food coma.)

And soon enough, it was time to wave goodbye to our senior Anderson extension, and get ready for a super-duper post-Thanksgiving party! Woo!

So we hopped in the hot tub and hopped out, and now it is time to get a head-start on the holiday season with the grand viewing of the one, the only.... Elf!

Have a spectacular Thanksgiving weekend, folks, I look forward to reading all of your "I'm thankful for..." Facebook posts!

But really- be merry, be thankful, and remember the 4 main food groups:

Candy, candy canes, candy corns, and syrup! :D

(Disclaimer: the Andersons strictly belong to the Anti-Black Friday Association. Do not, repeat, do not expect any Black Friday posts or pictures, because we simply would rather spend the day in our pajamas mocking the people getting trampled for that half-price LED TV. To all of you Pro-Black Friday-ians, good luck out there.)

Saturday with the Andersons

Lately, the Andersons have been spending their Saturdays sacked out on the couch after long, tedious weeks, indulging in some college football and finger food, slaving only when we must at petty chores, making the finger food, and that wicked thing they call homework...

But this Saturday was much too good to resist, Mom declared as she dragged me out of bed before 8 o'clock. No, the homework monster could wait! they said. I would have all day to spend some quality time with him tomorrow, because today was the day. Today was the day our lazy bums would soak up some Vitamin-D!

Off to the Green Market, we go, mouths watering for some over-priced overly-delicious pastries! And it's not a meal unless we all steal morsels of each others'. Dad's quiche definitely won the prize, even though he scarfed it down before my fork could stake out a second bite. (Thanks, Dad!) 

Despite being awoken before my preferred hour, I'll admit- it was worth it. Days like these can't be enjoyed from the bland comfort of the couch!

After eyeing all the hipsters, characters, seniors, undercover millionaires and their dogs (we're in Palm Beach people!) and of course the menagerie of delectable treats on display, the Andersons drove home to drop the car off and walk over to the movies to see the newest flick, Lincoln. 

"Abe! Abe! Abe! Abe!"

I'm sure all the sweet old folk thought Dad and I were nuts, but that's alright. I like to imagine Mr. Lincoln looking down on us and chuckling, "Crazy kids..."

For being the president during the ugliest, bloodiest period in our history, the man had a great sense of humor.

The day didn't stop with our presidential cheerleading, though, because at 5 o'clock we had nabbed a reservation at a brand new rodizio restaurant. 

Never before have our carnivorous consciences been so stimulated.

(Vegetarians and vegans, discretion is advised.)

MEAT. HEAVEN.

And it just kept coming, and coming--Steak and lamb and pork and chicken and more steak and sausage and shrimp and more steak and the best grilled pineapple one will ever taste in all of earthly living.

If it hadn't been for the eternal meat train, I would've lost my marbles to the droning elevator music, the gluten-free bread and the people who kept begging to get me a clean plate. They were getting in the way of that bacon-wrapped filet that was whispering my name! And the good Lord knows the Andersons don't like anyone hindering their acquisition of proteins. We'll keep our semi-filthy plates, thank you.

7 o'clock and 4 stuffed bellies later, we rolled out. Tonight they were lighting the Christmas tree at CityPlace, but the main attraction was not the tall twinkling artificial pine extravaganza, no, it was the "snow" anticipated to blast from unknown origins (which turned out to be on top of the palm trees) other than the sky. The Andersons love snow that you don't have to shovel, snow that doesn't scream chapped faces, puffed parkas and frozen fingers. Even if it smells kind of like Dawn dish soap.

And thus, the Andersons love Florida.

Monkeys and Penguins

What is a clan without their own unique lingo? Thought I'd share some exclusive Anderson family jargon, some that extend to our crazy Hoover and AnderBurg appendages!
So lap it up, y'all! (Okay, that one I made up on the spot, we don't actually say that, no worries.)

"No worries" 

-THE most commonly used phrase. Used as a substitute for "it's okay" or "don't worry". It can be added to the end of just about every single sentence, or the beginning of every single sentence--

"Whatever floats your boat!"

Ah ha, classic....


Sorry to intrude, but are any of you out there suffering from *cough*cough* phlegm?
If you are, Grampy Hoover has some advice for you:

"Spit that #&%$ out!"

I never said we were all that refined! But it's true, you should seriously spit it out. 


"Sliced"

This one was acquired just last year, when the AnderBurgs took their premiere cruise to the Caribbean at New Years. On the island of Antigua, we ordered some fish from a seaside food shack. When we asked the lady what kind of fish, she simply answered, "Sliced." And that's all she wrote, folks. Sliced is now the go-to adjective of all things that ooze the variable c. You can bet what we put on our t-shirts for this year's cruise.


"The Monkey"

Well, guys, I'm going to be honest. I saw a monkey in the woods by the road one day. I know what I saw, and what I saw was a monkey. For this truth I suffer perpetual flak. Now you know why they all smirk when anyone mentions the monkey. Now you know...


"Remember who you are."

This may just be the Anderson family motto! God knows I hear it enough- every time I'm unleashed into this big wide world! In other words, yes, please remember that you are a civilized and well-raised human being, but more importantly, remember that you all belong to some kind of clan of nuts- it's in our blood. And sometimes who you are is someone who sees monkeys in the middle of Oklahoma.

And sometimes who you are is someone who hugs humongous blue concrete penguins. 

And that's a-okay!

Ode to the Anderson Sunday Stupor

Sunday

the sacred last moment of homely peace,
the last sip of the bottle of weekend.

So wake up and smell the bacon
Open your eyes to the seeping sunbeams streaming and
the dogs ever a-yapping at some
probably nonexistent boogeyman out back

So follow your nostrils to the
scrumptious Southern masterpiece
of this sabbath day

Biscuits and jam and
ink on my fingers
Coffee-sipping sleepy-eyed undead of the
dawn-
The dawn of 10 o'clock

Peruse the hallowed
(New York Times)
and don't touch the Book Review, Mom wants it
I want the magazine I'm done with this but
no no no I haven't read that yet This is
the done pile

And maybe we'll be done enlightening ourselves at 11
And maybe it will be 12
And maybe we won't get dressed for a while
And maybe there will be a to-do list
And maybe we'll watch some football
And maybe we will get out of the house
once or twice

But if we don't, that's just
Alright.

Because it will be 7 more days until
the next hot breakfast
And 7 more days until
the next fat newspaper
7 whole, humdrum days
Until the next unfettered phase in our pajamas to simply

be.

And if every other dysfunctional family functions in such a fashion,

It's no wonder we all hate Monday...

What's your Monday face?

The Variable C Strikes Again!

(Viewer discretion is advised)

Halloween definitely has to be one of the best holidays for lawn decor. Dry ice, coffins, cobwebs, strobe lights, and all things motion activated (or very alive, depending on your point of view). Some enthusiastically festive people dress up like zombies and chase poor kids around with fake chainsaws. Others, like the Andersons, resurrect their nice-smelling pumpkin candles, buy some cheap candy, and admire our neighbors' menagerie of eerie ornamentation.
And then there's these kind of people...

And I'm sure you all are searching for words to explain this extravaganza, so I'll go ahead and put the words in your mouth--

This is yet another perfect exhibition of the variable c as it is found in the natural world! 
These people know how to embrace the variable c! They flaunt their crazyfreakingawesomeness!

So, that being said:
Live up to the c, have a c-ful Halloween, and most importantly,

Keep those pumpkins covered- 'cause it's gonna be a full moon!

    

Weekly Enlightenment

This week's Enlightenment brought to you by:

 Mama Anderson

***(A popular direction of dinner table discussion is each day's spontaneous and incredible meal served by the wonderful cooks of the Oxbridge Academy)

Friday night, I found myself explaining to my table members the dreadfully difficult decision I had to make pertaining to which line to stand in at lunch time: the pizza line, where the edible prize awaited beyond the perpetual horizon of ravenous and raging teenagers? Or the seemingly nonexistent wait to vote for sophomore class officers?

And since I can barely tolerate my own hormones,  I went the lesser of maddening routes.

Therefore, I sat down at the lunch table sans pizza and sadly, sans "I voted" sticker, and rather with a cup of soup and a mountain of broccoli, cauliflower, and asparagus, and a certain pride one obtains when one is courageous and mature enough to, in the presence of peers, down such green and healthful foodstuffs.

This whole story was my excuse for scarfing down a couple servings of pot roast, corn, and mashed potatoes that evening, but rather than act as my alibi for such hunger, it presented the cook of the house an opportunity to share with us her wisdom and enlighten our minds with valuable information that will surely be of benefit to us in the future...

So she whips out her iPad and reads to us the description of the cruciferous vegetables, a group of veggies that contain many vitamins, minerals, and cancer-preventative properties, and most importantly,  the sugar raffinose, which induces flatulence, apparently... 

Broccoli and cauliflower are cruciferous vegetables.

Meredith pipes in to tell us that asparagus makes your----

"WE KNOW!"

Dad: "Well, you know, not everyone can smell it-"

Me: "Geez you guys i get it"

And Mom warns me of the consequences I may receive for my lunch choices, and reminds me of my PSAT the next morning.

(Sigh.)

What's a girl to do!

Embracing Oktoberfest and the Variable C

This week we welcomed half of the most spectacular non-blood-related extension of the Anderson clan from the delightful state of Oklahoma; however, this full extension goes by a very specific name, do not be befuddled, because non blood relatives esteem a whole other variety of peculiarities than those of our congruent anomalous genes.

But I doubt they'd like me spotlighting their quirks and whimsicality- moving right along!....

Aren't they absolutely darling?

Well, yes, of course, but...

...um, what is this?

Why, that is- oh. Well. That's cute, I suppose. 

Hm.

I can't necessarily explain what is happening here. Are they imitating something? A fish, perhaps? A duck? A moose? A giant squid? A prehistoric jungle creature? Myself?

Nevertheless, this is a glimpse into the mystical, mathematical equation that defines this phenomenon:

A + B = AB

Please hold on to your brain jelly, people- I do not mean to blow your minds with this genius sensation, it is simple, scientific fact here.

Andersons + Burgins = AnderBurgs

This formula can be manipulated by adding the variable C representing crazyfreakingawesomeness, but often times this is misinterpreted as representing the length of the hypotenuse of a right triangle, but you will know that the Pythagorean Theorem is a^2 + b^2 = c^2. I can see, however, how this could be confused with the AnderBurg Theorem:

A^4 + B^4 = C^infinity

...which constitutes all variables described above.

Alas! Math cannot even begin to express the crazyfreakingawesomeness that occurs when the two tribes converge!

There are stormtroopers!

Bagpipes!

Goulash, nudels, red cabbage!

Chicken-dancing!

And oh my lands, the people watching! (Think: little boy carrying a giant inflatable spiderman with only his skivvies on- backwards! Or the lady on stage wearing leather lederhosen--I apologize for no pictures, but imagine, imagine!)

This is a wonderful world we live in folks-- find some crazyfreakingawesome people and soak it up together!

Nutze den tag!

(Tune in two months from now for a Caribbean New Years with the AnderBurgs!)

School Bus Epiphanies

Because after a long and tedious day at high school, where the girls are catty and the boys are just, well, boys, I'm on the bus and shielding my eyes from an ever bright sun, and as my favorite song comes on I tap my fingers, and I remember that I'm going home to an amazing family and a hot, scrumptious meal..... then nothing else truly matters, because, closing my eyes to bask in God's sunshine,
I'm so very happy. No one can take that away.

Anderson Table Rules of Conduct

1. Minors must set the table with appropriate furnishings: forks, knives, napkins, plates/bowls, etc. Special requests must be repeated twice or thrice, but odds are Meredith (aka kid sister) won't hear you at all because she's busy pouring the milk in unfair proportions so might as well tell me a few times to get whatever condiments you say are so absolutely necessary for your precious palate. Oh, and also, if we're having salad, please don't put those blasted wooden salad bowls on the table. I gotta hand-wash those buggers. And if Mom asks, just give her one, but negotiate first with her, won't you?

2. Once seated, and everyone is not busy filling their plates to their hearts' content, one must be chosen to bless the food. Choose wisely; one must be in good spirits, be aware of what reasons the other table members are in not so great of spirits, and should be able to articulate those reasons in prayer in a subtly humorous manner.

3. The only rules for the actual consuming part are as listed:

• Chew with your mouth closed- generic but seriously, it's disgusting
• Put your napkin in your lap! (You should've done this before we said grace, ya' rookie)
• Don't look like a caveman
• Use the napkin 
• Don't drop the napkin
• Oh, and apparently there's a correct way to hold your fork, but hopefully you've learned by now

4. Conversation-- the most essential component! All are required to share the nitty-gritty of their day, whether it be about school, work, people-watching within those establishments  or elsewhere, bad jokes, good jokes, impossible riddles (Meredith...), the things you ate ("I ate 2 crickets at school, Mom! And they served salmon and lobster bisque for lunch!" Imagine the looks on there faces...), weird things you heard while eavesdropping, what made you steam, what made you almost pee yourself, the sign person on the street you saw dressed as a taco, how you totally flubbed at volleyball in gym class and nearly hit the coach in the head with your wonky serve, the other kid that actually hit him in the head... The list goes on and on and on! You see, the possibilities are endless.

5. The rule is that once everyone is finished eating, the conversation may linger until all the most entertaining things you actually remember are announced. And if you remember later, well, odds are everyone's back to fiddling on their tablets and smartphones so might as well just share it on Facebook and hope someone sees it and you get a few measly likes.

6. (Conversation must have ended) Table must now be cleared and the post-supper clean-up must commence. Meredith will clear; I will wash. No exceptions. Unless I've been cursed with more unreasonable amounts of homework than usual. Otherwise, it's my territory. Don't you lift that sponge to that soiled frying pan! Don't touch it! Only I am worthy. Only me. I do not trust most to scrub as meticulously as I. So don't you dare touch those dishes.

7. Once again, I alone shall do the dishes, and I alone shall be the DJ for this event. Do not cramp my dish-mojo. I got this down. I will pick the tunes. You will tolerate the tunes. You will tolerate me singing to the tunes, and you will not, repeat, will not, record me doing so. Period.

Looks like somebody violated protocol. 

Maybe he just likes your deodorant...

Mom puts the food on the table and I hustle to get the salt, the pepper, the ketchup my kid sister can't live without. Meredith and I fight for the taller glass of milk, and as usual, I win this battle. We sit down, anxious to dig in. I pick at the mashed potatoes when I think no one's looking and Meredith gives me a dirty look. Mom sits and hollers at Dad to get off his phone, and finally, all four of us are united, yet another evening of Mom's good cookin' and each other's company.

But before anyone can share the highlights of their day and the idiots and/or good samaritans they met along the way, we hold hands and bow our heads to say grace, to thank the Lord for these entertaining and ever so special people in our lives. It's Dad's turn tonight, Mom insists. Eyes closed (except for maybe Meredith's because I swear she peeks to see if I'm peeking), Dad blesses the food, and he asks God to be with those who can't be at the dinner table peeking during prayer and stealing morsels with us tonight, but before he can get to the part about how insanely lucky we are for our nutty family, Mom lets out a snort. He pauses. He peeks- well we all do- and continues. 

Aaaagh, HANK!!!!! 

-and a cold wet nose sneaks its way up my armpit. Dad hurries to the "Amen" but that cold wet nose finds a new victim and poor Dad is assaulted in the same manner. Forget an amen, God would understand, because it is apparent that the blessing of the food has just been punk'd, and not by Ashton Kutcher, but by a

BIG

FAT

HAIRY

STINKY

DOG

And we were all unfazed, because we loved that dog.

And I would give an arm and a leg for that canine to interrupt our prayer tonight; In fact, I'd do anything just to have his reeking, disgusting breath all over my steak and potatoes just one more time.
I can try to pretend, but that horrific aroma surely can't be replicated. And no human, animal, or celebrity could replace the best addition to the Anderson table there ever was. Never again.


We miss you, Hank.


And I can just see you now, nudging God's armpit when he's trying to listen to the prayers we send every night, and I bet he smirks and squirms just as much as we did-- and I know he loves you that much, too.

Hello! Welcome! But wipe your feet, won't you?

It is my honor to introduce to you the Andersons, just another average *2-2-2 American family. Consider yourself an interim member as you're emerged in the ordinary and routine instances that occur within this collection of mainstream human beings.

Oh, wait.
Wrong family.

Despite my inability to find enough words that are the close equivalent of "eccentric", I believe that you (whomever you may be), can look past my drastically limited vocabulary and see for yourself just what I endure on a day-to-day basis with this most spectacular flock of oddballs.

And yes.
I admit that I, too, am a member of this gaggle, a fellow oddity.

And no.

I am not ashamed.

*2 kids, 2 cars, 2 dogs, or 2 of anything your heart desires. Anything but bathrooms. Unfortunately, only 1 bathroom in the Anderson home...