El Antiguo 2006

!Adios 2006!

Que Dios les bendiga,

La Familia Suave

Fortress of Commerce

No entries since Christmas as Pepino Suave accidently snipped the phone wires while excavating the Casa Sauve basement. . No problem, as we had already planned an overnighter on the other side of the state. Sister Monja and brother Casi Italiano both hosted us in their respective abodes over the course of two days of eating, playing table games, and eating.
As we returned to Pepinoville today, we passed by the oasis of marketeering: the outlet malls. After miles of midwest, midwinter fields, barns, and greyness, the Pepino Suave Express II turned off the interstate and into the Fortress of Commerce. I dropped the Pepina Chicks off at the Children's Place outlet, and doubled back to the gas station to fill up the PS Express II. Upon returning to the Bastion of Bancruptcy, my savvy and spendthrift family had made the following purchases:

1 package socks
1 Martin Luther King big book, Spanish edition
1 baby bib set (for new baby of friends)
1 outfit for Li'l Pepinita

I am blessed with a dear Dutch wife.

Super tacano (you put the tilde over the "n"),

Peppy

Feliz Navidad

Merry Christmas.

Paz y amor,

La Familia Suave

Soft-Boned Sibling Ode Part 2

Late last night, while sugar plums danced in Li'l Pepinitas dreams and Santa was leaving merchandise in parlors throughout the county, the Bob the Gorila Editiorial Board was alerted to the fact that a very important La Monja mishap was left out of Saturday's La Monja Mishap Montage (commonly, "Triple M").

Once Upon a Time...

(or, "The Part That Was Left Out the Other Day")

As a wee lass, La Monja munched on a hot dog. The wiener somehow bypassed her Chiclets and lodged in her wind pipe. We, her valiant brothers, half-panicked/half busted a gut watching our little sister turn deeper shades of blue by the second while we ate our potato salads. Her eyes bulged like those on the dead fish lying out front on the Lake Erie shoreline. Opa Suave, ever valiant and ready, swept into the gaggle of his offspring, as best a 300 pound man can sweep in, scooped up his little princess, tipped her upside down and held her ankles like a trained pediatrician, and whacked her little back like he was paid to (tip of cap to Aunt Nina). The frankfurter shot out of her little larynx like a missile, made a screaming b-line for the far end of the room, ricochet off the ceiling and rendered one of Granny's lamps useless. Li'l Monja sucked in air like a surfacing oyster diver (first thing that came to my mind. Actually, the second. The first was reference to the time Casi Italiano fell from a tree while we played Cowboys and Native North Americans Decendant of Asian Emmigrants No Offense and he landed flat on his belly. He forgot his name for half a day, and couldn't catch his breath; sounded like a stuck donkey. Another story, another day. See why I went with the oyster diver?), and started giggling like she had awoken in the middle of horseplay with her Daddy. Dinner continued as if a fork had dropped.

Back to your Christmas dinner, now.

Olvidadiso,

P. Yuletide Suave

La Noche Buena

Peace.

Con amor,

La Familia Sauve

Ode to a Soft-Boned Sibling

Greetings to you this, the Eve of Christmas Eve. Pepina and Pepinita lie snuggled on the futon, next to an unlit fire, in front of a glowing t.v. screen emitting scenes from "The Sound of Music", under the faux-wood beams of the Sala Sauve. I sit on the other side of the Suave compound, the East Wing, in front of a glowing computer screen emitting these parsed words, under a framed black-and-white of my brothers (Periodista and Casi Italiano) and I dressed in our snow suits and boots playing in a 60's era snow drift. We had snow drifts back then, pre-warming of the globe. Technically, sis La Monja was in the picture, as well, buried by her beloved brothers in the snow drift. She was always fun to play with, like a mouse is to a cat, or three.
Yes, these holidays give the Suave siblings a chance to look back to the good ol' days when we lived under the same roof, within the same half-acre, blessed with a vulnerable, easily manipulated, relatively light younger sister. We look back on pictures of yuletide past, and invariably find our youngest sibling wrapped in bandages, or pock-marked with bruises, or buried in sand, snow, or other material, smiling wanly in an attempt to feign enjoyment. She put an "s" in sport. Tortured sport.
To this day we enjoy provoking a wince from La Monja by merely moving a limb. Ever game, even as an adult, we have witnessed her don roller blades to blaze down Pepinoville's steepest avenue, only to stop herself with her face on a lawn. Asked if she was all right, she managed, "Don't touch me," in a breathless command, and remained curled up on a strangers damp front yard for a good while, muddy faced.
She has launched herself over Li'l Pepinita's baby stroller, and landed on the same face on a shopping mall's asphalt parking lot.
At a cousin's house, she bounced so enthusiastically on an exercise super-ball, she managed to carpet-burn that same face and incur a mild whiplash, to boot.
She accompanied Pepina and I road biking in Idaho a few years back. Hers was the bike with the handle bars askew, discovered thanks to La Monja's test piloting the drunken vehicle down ten miles of rocky Idaho trail. That same face kissed the trail several times, once hitting a flat rock so squarely with her mug, I thought for certain she wouldn't walk again, dead or alive. She did walk again, straight into a hospital with a head to foot poison ivy rash she contracted from missing the road at times, and falling into the brush.
This season, as we gather together my siblings and I, we'll see if La Monja is game for some snow boarding. Or maybe a snowball fight. Snow football?

Un hermano fiel,

P.S.

Sin Verguenzas (You put the dots over the "U")

I went to the YPCA for a workout yesterday.Yea, cucumbers workout; cool cucumbers, especially. Anyway, I didn't even get into the building when my pulse began to rise. I watched as a group of young men jumped into a van parked in a handicapped parking space. They didn't just jump into the van, they ran, pushing each other and laughing, from the building entrance to the van. What really shocked the gherkin was that there was one one of Pepinoville's Finest standing at the van writing a ticket. The youth didn't even acknowledge the officer. The driver put the van into reverse, and began to leave. The officer handed the ticket to the outstreched arm of the laughing driver as the van moved out of the well-marked handicapped space. As soon as the van was in drive, all the windows were rolled down, and all the occupants (without a hint of shame, embarrassment, or regret - heck, they were humored, if slightly indignant that they were seen as not above the law) began to hoot, holler, and mock the civil servant. They sarcastically asked her where the best donuts are, they accused that the officer wouldn't give the ticket to a law breaker of a different race, they swore, mocked the officer's size, weight, gender and ethnicity. They drove off.
Call me a dill, but I understand that parking in a handicap space, when you are not handicapped, is illegal. But that isn't even my reason for being absolutely astonished by what I saw; the lawbreakers instantaneously, like a reflex, saw themselves as the victims. Their most immediate synapse registered oppression, inequity, injustice.
They parked in a handicapped space!
Once the van pulled away, it revealed a small sedan. Outside of the driver's side door stood a man holding a ticket, flanked by his car and the handicapped parking sign. I wish I had a camera at that moment, because his face showed the contrition and mortification you would expect from someone caught doing something beyond the Bonehead Point on the Imbecile Scale of Idiocy (this scale is trademarked by Bob the Gorilla's Hey, Jerk, That's Just Not Right!Warehouse of the Incredulous, available at your local CukeMart stores). Hey, the blushing bonehead was still an idiot for parking there, no compassion from this rattled pickle, but at least he had a reasonable response to doing something unreasonable, if not stupid, selfish, and, again, illegal.
I won't even get into the issue that is all over the Cuke County newspapers, radio, and t.v.: a local high school principal was assaulted by a student while trying to break up a fight between students. The student's mom told reporters and police that if her daughter were going to be expelled, than the principal should be, too.
I'll just let that issue speak for itself. My blood pressure is way too high.

Que coraje,

Pepino Sin Justicia

Pepino Aleman

One of the finest actors to ever come out of the Bob el Gorila Not Ready for Snack Time Studio, Coco Loco (mas hermoso que George Clooney, mas intelegente que Einstien), gifted Sr. Suave with the fine pickled ornament you see above. Needless to say I was touched by the sentiment as well as the creativity. This ode to all Pepino will hang in a prominent part of the Suave Family tree, between Pepina's Field Hockey Girl ornament and L'il Pepinita's Cheetah Girls ornament.
The Pickle ornament is actually part of a German tradition. The ornament brings good luck to the child who finds it on Christmas morning. The lucky cherub who finds the gherkin gets a bonus gift from the Santa. !Dichoso!
To Coco Loco we send our sincerest thanks, with admiration for your considerable bilingual acting skills. Es obvio.

Con mucha admiracion,

Profesor Suave

Llega Santa

Santa passed by Pepinoville this morning! Li'l Pepinita even got to board the train and talk to the jolly traveler. Above are the pictures of the Big Guy's arrival, loitering, and departure; entirely out of sequence. Pepinoville citizens look forward to his return next week.

Me gustan las posadas,

P. Ho-Ho Suave

Ouch!

Se cae. Come nieve. Buen provecho.

Productos

The good people at Pepino Suave Yippee Skippee Multi-Lingual Games, Songs, and Stories (PSYSMLGSS) aren't in the business of endorsing products. Sure, we promote famous, beautiful, intelligent actors, like Rosa Rosada, Lindisima, and Coco Loco, but rarely do we ever endorse a manufactured product. O.K, maybe the odd rubber chicken, rubber chicken cannon, or rubber chicken toss-toy, but other than that, we try to stay out of the free market. Nonetheless, we feel compelled to share with you some products that our cherished readers need to know about:

Headblade - the headblade, and its line of accesories (HeadSlick Shave Cream, HeadSlick Head Balm, Head Slick Coffee Mug, etc.) are revolutionary tools for the hygiene of the face enriched/hair challenged. No longer is Pepina burdened with the weekly shaving of Pepino Suave's rock. Free at last! For more information, go to www.HeadBlade.com Shine on, crazy Bald Guy! Pepina won't know what to do with her free time...

Psylium Fiber - Two words that could be combined into one : Regularity. "Natural Bulk Producing Fiber" reads a descripition. Yours Truly couldn't describe it better, or more tactfully. Lowers cholestor, as well (just as an after thought).

Long Johns - From October to early April, these cotton classics are a Familia Suave staple.
Roof Rake - Keeping lake-affect (effect?) snow off the Casita Suave eves has become a winter ritual. Better that a roofing ritual...

Cereal (your own favorite brand) - Eaten as the dinner meal, cereal is quite a treat. Try it.

Un negociante sin verguenza* (o simplemente sin verguenza*),

Pepino "Coco Brillante" Suave

*If you truly need those two little dots over the "u" to make the world linguistic-cool (oops, did it again), use a washable marker on your monitor. We don't have the technological savvy to keyboard Spanish punctuation. Es obvio.

Ear Muffs

'Tis the season for carols. A big part of the Pepino Suave Yippy Skippy Christmas/Holiday Not to Offend People of Any Race, Creed, or Political Affiliation Spanish Program are songs of joy and thanksgiving. Some of the songs incorporated into our classroom are traditional, others are made-up on the spot, like last year's "Santa tumbo el chocolate" ("Santa knocked over the hot chocolate").
Yesterday, I kicked off the yuletide musical period with my somber quasi-baritone version of "Noche de Paz" ("Silent Night"). My debut performance was for my first graders, and, as they haven't heard the song yet, they sat in silence as I belted out an inspired performance.
Mind you , these kids come from as much a musical tradition as do my in-laws (known to break out in song as if life were a musical. "Pass the potatoes" could get you a few versus of an old Dutch derge). See my picture on the upper right of your screen. It is evidence of my only musical experience, my failed '05 Mariachi Frustrado Mexico Tour. I am sure you all recall this, my first and last concert tour of my Mariachi career (see my Autumn, '05 entries for concert dates and entries on the side bar at right). Pepino Suave made Spinal Tap look like a serious musical effort.
Anyway, the kids are eye-balling me as only first graders can; as if Pepino Suave were a rock star. I was unsettled, though, by the sweet little girl in the first seat, directly in front of me. This little girl is the picture of innocence; a girl who unfailingly listens, greets, helps others, and finishes her addition facts before recess. Simply put, she is 30-odd pounds of sugar and spice. The girl has no hint of worldliness, cynesism, sarcasm, or spite. Yet, as I start getting whipped up (around about the, "Armonias de Paz" part), little sweety frowns, lowers her head to her desk, covers her ears with her hands, and looks up at me like a cowering poodle.
Suddendly zapped from my musical revelry back into the reality that I have absolutly no musical inclination, and that I am singing in front of kids steeped in harmony and pantamoter (whatever), I soberly ask,
"Is my singing hurting your ears?"
Still clutching her ears, she nods her head forlornly, and is supported by classmates shouting, in chorus, "Si, si, Pepino Sauve, si. Your singing hurts our ears! Please stop. For the love of all that is Holy!"
Today I will use the CD player and the solid vocals of the famed Jose Luis Orozco.
Pepino Suave has left the building....

Canto como un sapo,

Pepino "El Mariachi Frustrado" Suave

Confirmado

Just in: Pepino Suave's two Friday schools, Uncle Paddy's Home for the Wayward Angels, and Blessed Breading are closed due to snow and ice.
Instead of my usual teaching threads, I will don my long undies and tackle the Sauve One-Car Driveway, as it accumulates what the Pepinoville Channel 8 Weatherman calls "precipitation".
May all those Pepino Suave friends, family, and oficionados not enjoying a snow cancelation be careful on those roads. Bring 'em back alive (and if you think of it, with a gallon of milk, loaf of bread, and a dozen eggs. Thanks).

Palando,

Peps

Dia de Nieve

As of this hour, Pepinoville metropolitan area is glazed with ice and snow, apparently with more to come. School closings are pouring in. Both Pepina's and Li'l Pepinita's schools are confirmed snowed out, yet my two schools are still flirting with the inevitable. Coffee cup in hand, I stare out the window...

Esperando,
Pepino S.

Teaching With Tylenol

Yesterday Pepino Suave taught with a sinus head ache and a sore throat. I felt like 6 feet, 180 pounds of mucus. I feigned enthusiam giving my lessons, and my students pretended to care while receiving them.
Today I taught with the same symptoms, although well masked by a dose of Tylenol every four hours. There was no pretending. I whipped our rubber chicken around like it was essential to language acquisition. I wore a wig and walked like a duck. I sat on a fake sandwich. I claimed, in Spanish, that the principal dances with elephants. I was inspired. It appeared the kids learned, too (although we don't have emperical proof, as yet).

Agradezco la farmacia,

Pepino Sano

Cinco Palabras

Five words that, together, define gastromical excellence:
Midnight Milky Way Candy Bar

Que disfruten,
P. Delicioso Suave

Mouths of Babes

Today was one of those rainy-high-pressure-no-outside-recess kind of days at The Home For Wayward Angels, one of the schools where I teach. Kids, all classes, all grades, were unusually full of life. I saw behavior and heard comments that are more common in early September than late November.
At the very end of the day the rain came down like it was paid to, and all the jittery kids were waiting in the main hallway. One little girl, clad with a pancho and a hood, ran up to me and exclaimed, "Pepino Suave, look, I have a hood!"
I thanked her for making me aware of her head gear.

Con mucho paciencia,

Profe. Suave

El Arbolito

That tree has been cut, delivered, and trimmed. We deck the halls today, and we're ready for the season.
That's a slanted blue spruce you see there in the Casa Pepina. We selected and cut a blue spruce; it was the tatooed youngster manning the trunk drilling machine that put a little "wow" into our yuletide lumber. Nothing a shimmy or two can't fix.

Tienes una casa en Pepinoville,

P. "Ho-Ho" Suave

Dia de Accion de Gracias II

Hope your Thanksgiving was as great as ours.

Atentamente,

La Familia Suave

Dia de Accion de Gracias

Happy Thanksgiving to the thousands of Pepino Suave family, friends, oficionados, and creditors. Thanksgiving '06 finds me with my annual Thanksgiving cold and flu, thank you. I am 180-some pounds of cough, mucus and misery. Physically, anyway. Otherwise I am goofy with mirth and thanksgiving. Li'l Pepinita is over at Opa Suave's crib helping out with the bird. Dear Pepina is in our cocina doing the trimmings. In an hour, we'll drive over with a wagon full of goodies, and celebrate at Opa's.
I leave you with my incomplete list of Things Pepino Suave Has to be Thankful For (TPSHTF, and pardon the dangle Grammarians).

TPSHTF:

• The Two Beautiful Ladies I live with that show me how to love and to give.
• My wife who is a walking definition of unconditional love and goodness, and giving. Each day, Dear Pepina proves that the glass is half-full.
• My daughter who I love like nothing else in this world.
• A family, both in-law, out-law, and blood relation, that are there throughout thick and thin, puns good and bad, sadness, gladness, and casseroles.
• A job that I love and that is the envy of everyone on weekends, and holidays, and during summer months.
• Students, their parents and colleagues who inspire, challenge, and make me belly-laugh.
• A relative body temperature of 98 degrees Fahrenheit and a pulse.
• The daily newspaper, Pepinoville Press.
• Four seasons, especially spring and fall.
• Leaf blower/vacuums and mulching lawnmowers.
• Seconds, especially when the firsts include mashed spuds.
• Split wood piled high in the garage.
• Long underwear, and short winters.
• Raisin bread toast and pork rinds.
• Homemade wine.
• The movie, Its a Wonderful Life, viewed with my family.
• Wrestling Li'l Pepinita after school.
• Cereal for dinner.
• Great nieghbors.

That is just the first page of a volume of thanksgiving...

Super agradecido,

Pepino "Gobble" Suave

El Gato

Angel is our cat. Li'l Pepinita welcomed her into our, until then, petless abode on her birthday. Li'l Pepinita is very happy with Angel el Gatito.
Today we found a cat fece on the front room floor.
Can a cat fit in a slow cooker?

Gateo,
Pepino "Gato Sabroso" Suave

Honey Crisp

You have not had an apple until you've tried an Honey Crisp. It's candy disquised as fruit. Adam would get a little more empathy from us sinners had he been offered a Honey Crisp by naggy Eve.
I didn't understand all the talk about the biblical fruit until I finally ate one the other day. It's just like they say: sweet as honey, and crisp as, well, it's crispy.
What are you doing? Go get yourself a Michigan Grown Honey Crisp.

Me qusta la manzana,

Peppy

*This message brought to you by the Michigan Fruit Growers Association.

Aunt Nina

This Veterans Day weekend, I had the pleasure to visit our favorite army veteran, Aunt Nina. She had lots of pictures to share from her autumn cruise to Alaska. She's planning a road trip to Florida in a week.
While sipping free-trade coffee, the spry octogenarian reflected on life in North Carolina during the 30's. Her house didn't have a well, so she and her sisters had to "carry water". It wasn't until a well was dug that they didn't have to carry water, or carry it that far. In the winters, the well pump had to be primed with warm water before it could be used.
Andale, I have to go get my tea out of the microwave...

Siempre agradecido,

Pepino "Cargando Agua" Suave

Post-Election

I woke up to an unsolicited email from a be-suited banker, broke and over-weight, claiming he "told me so" (he has " told me so" about dieting and finance, too). Apparently the early results of yesterday's election made him feel rightously (sp?) vindicated. As well, he apparently felt the elections somehow castigated the likes of this humble pepino. He didn't vote. I did.
Regardless of what the be-suited banker may believe, I don't have a particularly strong political persuasion. However, I am happy for the very independent Mr. Joe Lieberman. His party, that of the "people", all tolerant and open minded, jumped off his band wagon faster n' a pickle on a wet dinner plate, and he still won an election; by a bunch, too.
Locally, we give our sentiments to the biggest loser, dollar for dollar, Mr. DeSoap. Although he invested more money into the gubenatorial campaign than the U.S. has spent in Iraq, his bubble burst big time. Mr. DeSoap, you still have your "soap". Or lots of people to sell your "soap". Or lots of people to recruit lots of people to sell your....
And finally, the electorate was convinced that school funding is bad for business. No well educated child is going to get in the way of making a buck in this state. Proposal 5 flunked.

Bien confundido,

P. Dedo Morado Suave

Election Day

I have received 2,345.09 unsolicited, pre-recorded political phone messages since the weekend began. What little t.v. I watch is jammed packed with political marketing.
My vote this mid-term election was carefully calculated by a long, dirty laundry list of data, hunch, and reflection. If I go thrue yet another day of tele-arrogance, and televised groveling, I will throw the list to the wind, and vote for the people and proposals that least invade my privacy.
So there.

Super molestado,

Pepino Representado

Bald Guyz

Pops Suave gave me the heads-up on a new product for the scalp-rich. Bald Guyz Head Wipes are the perfect remedy for the five o'clock shine. One of these wipes will knock the gleam off your dome. The secret is a quick drying swiss formula "specially formulated for The Bald Guy". Plus, it has a Green Tea extract that will leave your head with a "natural healthy look after each use." Buy a box now at your local pharmacy.

Coco pelado,

Pepino "Brillante" Suave

Happy Halloween

The streets of Pepinoville were full of frolickers; it was as if there were no cable t.v., Game Boys, or computers. Dads and moms, grandparents, and kids mingled and shouted "Happy Holloween", and "Thank you", and "How are you?"

Me queda encantado,

Pepino S.

Fine Line

My dear daughter, Li'l Pepinita, nurturing my love for books, gifted me Alan Alda's new memoir, Never Have Your Dog Stuffed. Alda isn't just the actor behind the great Hawkeye Pierce of M.A.S.H., the fellah can scratch out a good line or two. The title of his autobio is brilliant enough, but pales in comparison to the first line of his book, one of the goofiest I've ever stumbled across:

Chapter 1

"My mother didn't try to stab my father until I was six, but she must have shown signs of oddness before that..."

Alda's book shows, page after page, that it takes a cruely bizarre childhood to eventually be nominated for 32 Emmy Awards, write, act, and produce in dozens of movies, and get home in time for dinner. Actors

My favorite chapter so far? Chapter 4, which tells the tale of Alda's childhood pet that eventually ended up stuffed next to the den fireplace.

Leo,
Pepino Lector

Applebee's

If I got one call about my promise to review Ron Fournier's Applebee's America, I got a million. Tranqui, tranqui, nieghbors, I'll get to it. I only finished the tome of marketing wisdom a week ago. I guy has to digest all the universal truth it contains, and peep at the new issue of Mad Magazine before a guy can synthesis how it has changed a guy's course in life. Chill.
My long awaited comments on reknown author, wiffle ball allstar, and quick-witted recontour Ron Fournier and his Pulitzer-bound tear-jerker, Applebee's America will appear in various November entries. As Granny would say, "Keep your pants on. Or, " Hold your horses. Or, "Where's the fire". Or, a sharp, stinging thimble pie to the temple.

Super ocupado,
Pepino Suave

Tech Support Plea

Hey, my tech-savvy readers. How do I get great icons, like the one to the left, on my sidebar? Maybe brother Casi Italiano is out there reading this. Could you punch-in and help out a 'mano? I want to get these hot links on this baby before the rest of the world catches on and I'm just coughing road dust.

Atrasado,

Peppy

Haunting Begins

The first handful of many Holloween bashes were held yesterday. Above, a Li'l Pumkin displays the gastromical offerings at Pepinoville's Santo Sobrio Lutheran Church annual celebration of the Satanic. It was followed by revelry at Pepinoville Elementary Escuela de Expectaciones Realisticas. Li'l Pepinita enjoyed a day full of haunts, starch, salt, sugar, corn syrup, and artificial flavors.
Only 48 hours until actual Holloween day, and there is still plenty instructional time to be interrupted in celebration of things spooky. On Tuesday, let's put behind No Child Left Untested, cancel math class, and have a costume parade.
Remember, it's about the kids.
Asustado,
P. Boo Sauve

Pennsylvania Wedding

A wedding party playing in an autumn field, a ride in a cauliflower truck, dad and daughter dancing, and bubbles from well-wishers; these kids know how to throw a wedding.

Felicitaciones,
La familia Sauve

Pig Trough Dancing

Apparently, in Pennsylvania Dutch country, if an older sibling of the bride or groom is yet unmarried, he/she is made to dance in the pig trough. Here, the single sis of the groom trips the gruel fantastic, as they say. She fell on her pompis, at one point. A trooper, she got right back up and cut a rug in the porcine platter.

Baile pues,

Pepino S.

En Camino

I'm in Pennsylvania as I file this entry. Can you tell? The clan Suave, accompanied by Opa and dear friend Patriota, have spent the weekend in Pepina's hometown, a sleepy burough tucked into the hills of south east P.A. We're here to attend the wedding of two great youngsters - our beautiful niece, Simpatica, and her fine beau, Electrico. The wedding was great, as were the sights. We saw a vivacious Penn-Dutch gal dance in a pig trough. We saw Pepina's childhood surrogate Mom, Mrs. Conversar, clean a floor while maintaining a, frankly, very engaging chat with her visitors. Pepinita and I experienced the plight of an ilegal alian; we hitched a ride to the wedding in the back of Agronomista's cauliflower truck. When, in the wet darkness of the post-wedding evening, Uncle Doble Pensionado opened the back of the truck and peered over the mounds of vegetable at our wide eye selves, Pepinita and I feared it was the Migra, and we had no papers. What fun!
All this, and more, when I get back to headquarters. Stay tuned and the author of this blog and his staff of handsomely paid gorillas will inform you of our gay adventures in the birthplace of our beloved Pepina.

Coliflor,

Pepino Menonito

Los Tigres

Felicitaciones a todos los fanaticos de Los Tigres de Detroit.
It has been a long time coming.

Un fanatico de nuevo,
P. Suave

Applebee's America

On Wednesday, all of Pepinoville and Aunt Nina came out to party at the Dill Boulevard Applebee's, one of only 14 in metropoliten Cuke County, as one of our home-town heroes, the much-herald author Ron Fournier, came to town to sell some books. Not just any book, mind you; the book Mr. Fournier was hawking was co-crafted by his own nimble fingers. With him he brought a partner author of Applebee's America to sign books, eat snacks, and sip iced tea with throngs of fans, potential readers/coffeetable book collectors, and creditors (Papa Pepino). There was a cake, too (see above).
We thank Mr. Ron Fournier (hope I spelled that right), his partner in prose, Matthew Dowdnier, and the fleet-footed staff at the Dill boulevard Applebee's for the bountiful book bash.
Pepino Suave Readers, I can't recomend this book more highly. I am on Chapter 7, "Americans On the Move", and would have finished the book by now if I could just set aside this month's Mad Magazine and concentrate. I'll include in my October entries some of my analysis about my reading (of Applebee's America, not Mad Magazine. Silly) and encourage you to do the same by commenting when appropriate. The Pepino Suave editorial board encourages Mama Pepina's comments to include her "outside words". Children sometimes read this blog...

Con orgullo,

Pepino "Lector" Suave

Autumn

Gozando de la vida pepina,

Peps.

Aniversario

Another year has swept passed us. Yes, today we celebrate Papa and Mama Suave's 44th wedding anniversary. As we did a year ago, the Pepino Suave Editorial Board has packaged some marriage vocabulary for our esteemed readers, in honor of our beloved padres:

No lo hagas - Don't do it. Classic pre-marital advise with a latin twist.
Te quiero a morir - I love you to death, or, My love for you is killing me.
Besame Juanita - Kiss me Jane. As with one of last year's entries, this one has little to do with the marriage theme, but is a classic meringue lyric.
Hay Pero Que Calor - Losely tranlated, Dang Its Hot. Another memorable meringue hit that refers to the tropical climate. Many tropical married people dance to meringue (so it's a stretch. It's 6:00 in the morning, fans).

On behalf of the countless Pepino Suave Blog fans around the globe, and especially Pepino S. and his siblings, Periodista, Casi Italiano, and La Monja, we wish Papa and Mama Suave a happy anniversary. You are the authors of our days....

Con amor y respeto,

P. Diddy Suave

Una Soga de Mocos

Tbere is a veritable plague of colds seeping thrue Pepinoville elementary schools. I have classrooms of children sneezing like a gang of alergic hungry hippos. One remarkable sneeze accured yesterday in Mrs. Lithium's second grade class. Little Stue reared back and let loose a sneeze that released a rope of light-green mucos. The booger lasso landed a good foot away, and attached itself to his wrist. He stared at me, a string of boogers stretching from his left nostrol to his arm, as if I had an answer to his dilema. I pointed to a tissue box (Mrs. Lithium provides a box of tissue at each cardinal direction. Stue went South). He made it to the tissues and back to his desk without breaking his brilliant band of boogers. It took him the entire calendar routine to clean himself up and disenfect ( a bottle of hand cleaner can also be found in any direction, He returned South). Hardly a classmate was wiser, Stue and I were so discrete.

Muchos mocos,

Profe. Suave

Navigator

Hey Pickled Peeps of mine.The guy that gives me the low-down on everything from fashion to furniture, my personal navigator, a slack-joweled lokel named Ignatius, has told me about a book called Applebee's America. This tome of contemporary marketeering was written by a couple of guys, and by Ron Fournier, a revered journalist and savvy Pay-the-Man wiz. You got to get your mits on this book. Today I am going to tell nine people to read it.

Lector familiar,

Pepinazo

P.D. You can own your very own copy: www.amazon.com

Rubia's Birthday

Happy birthday, today, to our beloved cousin, Rubia. Rubia, our readers surely recall, is the author of the finest ambrosia recipe this side of Rio Pepino. Our youthful thirty-year-old-or-so has yet to disclose the ingredients of her marshmellowed concoction to the Pepino Suave community. As she eats her cake, we await.

Esperando,

P. Suave

Overheard

In a Cuke County area bathroom, the wife brushes her hair, and the husband shaves while listening to the radio news show:

Husband: Did you get a load of that reporters name? Gerald Stupedowski. Wow. What do you think his nickname is?

Wife: Gerry.


Oigo todo,

Peps

9/11/01

It was the second morning of sheparding 48 fifth and sixth graders at our annual camping trip at a YMCA camp some 50 miles from school. It was our kick-off event; a way for the students and teachers to come together as a group as the school year began. My cabin was the first awake that morning. We were a group of 6 boys and myself and we were eating breakfast in the cafeteria close to the parking area. We heard the sound of tires on gravel, and went outside to see who was arriving. A handful of parents were popping out of their cars into the sunlight of a gorgeous fall morning. At first, I guessed the parents decided to play hooky and spend an uninvited day with us in the sun. Their faces didn't show that sentiment; they looked rushed, distracted. They told me some buildings had been hit by planes in New York, and they were going to take their kids home with them. That was the first we heard of the catastrophy.
Those of us that remained followed the camp staff down to the lake where the flag was at half-staff, and we discussed with the students what we knew of the tragedy. I spent quite a bit of time jogging between our group and the main lodge, trying to get a hold of my wife using the camp's phone (we purchased our first cell phone soon after). Ironically, I could only reach my parents in Canada, and they relayed messages between us. My wife told us of her dad's heart attack upon watching footage of the disaster, and the shamefully exploitive gas prices at the gas stations in town. My brother, an Associated Press reporter covering the White House at the time, was one of the last to evacuate the potential target.
Our bus returned to the school half-full that evening. I remember being surprised that not a single parent was late in picking up their child. A disaster of that scale made folks punctual, apparently.
I returned home to a changed world.

Atentamente,

P.S.

Patriots Day

The Pledge of Allegiance
I Pledge Allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands,one Nation under God,indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Puro Estadounidense,

Pepino U.S.A. Suave

Grandpa's Ears

First of many memorable things I hear in hallways:

"When I get home I tickle my grandpa's ears."

Oigo todo,

Profe. Peps

First Day of School

Actually, my first day back to the classroom was last week. Some of my schools thumb their collective noses at the new law that would have students return after labor day. Technically, I was teaching illegaly last week. I hope I don't get fined for my transgression.
As I begin another school week, my thoughts are with the teachers and families in the Detroit Public School District, whose schools continue to be closed because of a strike. May those who count the beans choose to do what is best for children.

Atentamente,
Profesor Pepino

El Agronimo Bailarin

Many moons ago, when ol' Pepino S. still possesed a tuft of hair or so, he toiled as a volunteer for an obscure governmental organization in a land far away. The wise beaurocrats in Washington assigned our friend to the Agricultural Program, as he had been reared in Detroit. Our young, idealistic American was to promote modern agricutural techniques to poor campasinos. After three months of training that included the identification of key agricultural tools like the shovel, he was sent to a remote part of the countryside often refered to as the "arm-pit". Soon, his success as an agricultural extensionist spread throughout the land, like manure on a fresh plowed field. He was asked to consult at the village of a fellow volunteer, Lee "Subjuntivo" Scott. After fifteen minutes of pointing at trees and other green stuff, Pepino Suave asked Subjuntivo if there might be some libation in those parts. Subjuntivo led young Pepinito to the Middle of Nowhere, home of the rockingest discoteque in the Carribean; the wildly popular Sammy Play. There, Subjuntivo and Pepino put into practice the keen meringue techniques that they had acquired during training in the capital. The locals had never seen anything like it: two tall, bumbling gringos dancing like they were paid to (thank you U.S. taxpayers). Upon the closing of Sammy Play, Subjuntivo and Pepino were obliged to walk back to the village, as neither could balance on motorcycle or horse.
That night remains a great part of local lore, and to this very day, the author of this blog is refered to as "El Agronimo Bailarin" (The Dancing Agronomist), and his good friend and contractor, Lee, is remembered as "Subjuntivo," for his unparralled mastery of the cruelest verb tense in the world.
This memory was dug-up out of an old pile of nostalgia labeled "No Future In Politics" when Subjuntivo paid us a visit last week. He happened to be in town on business, accompanied by El Tejano, a man with a strange physical resemblance to Pepino Suave, but much wiser and employable. Unsolicited, he shared with us some terms that we had never heard of, and cannot share with you on this very public blog. The editors of this fine entry would not dare to offend the readership with terms like Gorila Fingers.
El Tejano reports to Subjuntivo. Pepino Suave reports to no one. Save Pepina.

Hasta la proxima,

Pepino Agronimo

Diet of a Monk

The Diet of a Monk works on two principles:

1. If it tastes good, spit it out.
2. If a rabbit wouldn't eat it, niether should you.

We'd like to thank my father, Bompa Suave, for his contributions to this entry.

Salud,

P. Sano Suave

Correction

The Editorial Board of the Pepino Suave Blog, A Pickled Journal of Musings, Rants, Advice, and Ambrosia Recipes regrets the oversight of language published herein that is unsuitable for our fine readership. In the Tuesday, August 22 entry entitled "Marge Simpson", the author of this blog used terms that aren't consistant with the quality or theme of this blog. The language has been edited, the error corrected. We regret if any readers have been offended.
You kinda had to be there to get it, anyway.

No ofendo,

Pepino Suave and Co.

P.D. Will that do, Pepina?

You Say Tomato

Pepina is passive aggressive. She seeks retribution in sweet, yet effective ways. Take tomatoes, for instance. The other day, Bompa and I trapse over to neighbor Jardinero's house for a chat. Seems he's up to his elbows in the vegetable/fruit and asks me if I'd like a bag full. I says no, I have plenty, as I have my own tomato plants in the Suave Half Acre Estate. Thanks just the same. I says maybe my Pops could use a few, as tomatoes have little cholesterol, hydorgenated fats, high fructose corn syrup, dextrose, flavor; those things that are not part of Pops very limited Diet of a Monk (future entry). Pops obliges and takes the bag of plump, juicy, ruby jewels home to put next to other bland foods that contribute to a healthy life. Pepina finds out that I passed on Jardinero's bounty, and I don't hear the end of it. Neither does metropolitan Pepinoville. By the end of the week we have enough tomato donations from the gardens of family and friends that Pops and I had to build more window sills for storage.
Pepina, you made your point.

Perdoname,

Tomate Suave

Dear Pepina

Dear Pepina has a new post! Someone finally gifted her a handful of tomatoes, so she saw fit to return to the keyboard.
Click on Dear Pepina to your right, and enjoy.

Esposado,
P.S.

Marge Simpson

My li'l brother, Casi Italiano, is the brain o' the brothers. You do the math on who got the good looks. Pause. Anyway, Casi Italiano (CI) is a big fan of everything Simpsons. In fact, for CI, every real-life event has some kind of Simpson context to it. CI could link bubble gum on the sidewalk to a Simpson episode (CI, feel free to post the appropriate episode under "comments", below). Well CI and his wife, Super Italiana (cooks with real butter) paid a visit to bucolic Pepinoville last week. The villagers and I kicked in to buy him a blow-up Marge Simpson doll, instead of the usual key to Pepinoville. He cried. He laughed. He hugged the still-boxed-and-deflated Marge Simpson doll. Then he hugged Super Italiana, crushing the box.
America, there ain't nothing like family. Happy family. Huggn' Marge-Simpson-doll-happy family. You can say that again.

Un hermano contento,

P. Suavecito

Chicken Salad

Pepina whipped up a chicken salad today that would smack you in the shorts. Man, it was good.

Buen provecho,

P. Suave

Grannyism

We like to provide our audience with linguistic support. It is one of the many free services our readers receive, thanks to Bob el Gorila's Mobile Laboratory of Yippee-Skippe Games, Songs, and Stories.
Grannyisms are the words and gestures of wisdom or rancor attributed to our maternal grandmother, Granny.
Granny's lexicon was unique. It was a hodge-podge of the rich experiences of her life - from Bay City ("A good place to be from"), to Coram avenue, to the shores of Lake Erie.

Today's nugget:

Goodness Gracious - An exclamation of surprise, dissapointment, or disgust.
Ex.: 1. "Goodness Gracious! How did you get that bike into that tree?"
2. "Goodness Gracious! Get your hand out of there!"
3. "Goodness Gracious! What's that smell?"

Me hace falta Bingo,

Pepinazo

Boise Joe

Boise Joe sent me a hat in the mail. It's a Great Lakes Storm baseball cap. Ironic, a Great Lakes hat sent to Michigan from Boise. I'm going to send him a potato(e).
Boise Joe, if you are out there, here's a shout out.
Remember our Cowboy days in Durango? Remember the guys bbqing inside the Gigante supermarket? Can you say Carbono Monoxido? Remember the kids from the rival school that kept following me and yelling nasty English at me? Ah, to be a cowboy, again.
Hey, it's still summer vacation. Think you could sneak those kissing cowboy pictures on the Pepino Suave Blog before students and their parents start reading my entries again? Give it a try. Dare ya'.

Gotta go see a man about a horse,
Pepino Vaquero

Hot Soup

Pepino Suave has got another hot new link for you cherished readers. It's called Hot Soup. Either double click on "Hot Soup" above, or under the "Pepino Picks" column to your right to view this breakthrough website. It defines itself as a site that:
"... will create a new community of influence among those in government, politics, business and entertainment who make the decisions and those who want to impact them. It will bring the inside world out and the outside world in, and create a richer dialogue and stronger connections between Opinion Drivers across the country."

That's us! Pepino Heads are Opinion Drivers by definition. We've found a home...

The editor of the site is the distinguished, award winning journalist Ron Fournier. Ron and I go way back. I got some smack on the guy that I might share with you all in a future entry. Maybe, maybe not...

Un hermano fiel,

Pepino Suaveeeeeeeeeeee

Tupperware

Li'l Pepinita and I have returned from our golf-light outing. The little knee-biter beat me by three points, and we lost in the go-cart race 'cause we were the only two-seater. The bumper boats weren't as exciting as they looked. Li'l Pepinita spent alot of time spinning in dizzy circles, shrieking a panicky, "I can't steer, I can't steer!"
We returned to Tupperware centeral at dusk. The smell of rubber based kitchen products mingled with scents of coffee and a United Nations of women's perfumes. Apparently, the celebration of burping food containers was a hit. At the peak of the bash, our parlour was packed with neighbors and other well connected V.I.P.s from the Pepinoville metropolitin area. Everyone who was anyone was at this gig, spending hard earned cash on products that will replace long lost containers from yesterday. I think sock makers and the Tupperware people have created a similar black whole where they maintain demand for their products by sucking previous purchases into oblivion. An incredible scheme. Alticor, eat your heart out.
Pepina and neighbor Cocinera scored a ton of free rubber for co-hosting the summit of plastic. Our shelves will be bursting with storage potential. We owe a big thanks to Tupperware for that. May you continue making what we really don't need, but might come in handy one day.
I can't wait to see my new lunch box with individual sections to seperate the veggies from the snacks, and the snacks from the entree...

Solo en America,

P. Suave

Stay Tuned

Got to go. Li'l Pepinita and I are headed for the links. The micro-links. Mini-golf. The house is being taken over by Pepina's gang of burpware babes. Next chance I'll update ya'll on:

• Boise Joe's package. Yes, many consider him The Package. Don't confuse.
• Pepina's Tupperware fest
• Miniature Golf
• A blow-up Marge Simpson doll, and her torrid relationship with my brother
• Grannyisms. This week's feature: "Goodness Gracious"
• The weather

Hasta pronto,

Pep

El Verano

Esparando Rubia....

Hey, anyone seen cousin Rubia? We here at Bob El Gorila's Mobile Laboritory of Yippee Skippee Games, Songs, and Stories have been waiting for her to call in her AMBROSIA RECIPE for weeks now. Thing is, we've got people calling all the way from Scabbed Knee, Montana wanting to know how to make the confection, and we keep putting them on hold.
Someone want to track her down for us? Gee whiz, at her age maybe it slipped her mind...
Soon as we hear from Dear Rubia, friends, we'll post her recipe. Stay tuned.

Un primo travieso,

P. Suave

Bob Dylan

• Bob Dylan is in Pepinoville tonight. He's in concert at the Pepinoville ballpark. We can hear his garbled voice as it drifts over town. Distorted by distance, rolling terrain, trees, and traffic, his lyrics are just as incomprehensible as when heard live. I remember seeing him close up and personal at Hill Auditorium in Ann Snob-bore some years back. My friend, Dead Head, got me a job as an usher for a few concerts that summer. Dylan played a few long sets, more music than most of the artists that summer. As close as I was to the stage and speakers, he could have been singing in Latin. Made no sense to me. Talk about a cult of personality. I get much more from reading his lyrics. His "Boots of Spanish Leather" is pure poetry. You can find it in literature textbooks.
• My idea is to get Bob Dylan to write songs for Pepina, our household songstress. She is relatively articulate. Together, they could sell some serious plastic. I'm going to have her audition "Watch Tower" for me tomorrow. Stay tuned.
• Li'l Pepinita has had a week o' cousins. Two Motown cousins are staying over at Bompa and Grandma's this week. Two days ago, the whole gang went to the beach and were joined by five more cousins from the other side of the family. Li'l Pepina esta bien contenta. She loves her kin.

Atentamente,

Pepino Perdido

Fresco

The Cuke County heat wave drifted East two days ago. We have had dry (er), cool temperatures and have immensly enjoyed it. Our plans do not revolve around Where The Air Conditioning Is. You can only go to the library and the YPCA,and los abuelo's apartments so many days in a row.

The Suave clan took a bike ride on a local bike path two days ago, the first day of human-friendly weather. Yesterday we attended the outdoor birthday party of Calabacita, the sweet daughter of La Pastora and El Pastor, Los Pastores. There were poney rides, penny hunt in hay, and an icecream cake that puts the ice in cream. It was one of the finest social engagements of the Suave calendar year. In the evening, we went to the ball game. The Pepinoville Pickles played the Boogerville Loogies. We had great seats right behind home plate, thanks to Ingeniera and her mom and pops, Los Jardineros. They gave us their box tix, as they had other stuff to do. Mil gracias, to them. Bompa and Abuelita attended, as well. They scored standing room only tickets. They didn't even have to sit for the entire game. Bonus. We lost them after the third inning. We caught up to them after the eighth inning, walking to the car (it was parked in the next county), each carrying a loaf of the free bread which is traditionally handed out to each fan upon leaving the Pepinoville stadium.
Suave fans, stop by this week for bread pudding, french bread, various breaded meat products, various sandwich variations, or just to enjoy a slice of the spongy, encriched white substance. Nuestra casa es tu casa.
The Boogerville Loogies trounced the home team something like 9 to 0. It was a nice, cool night, though.

'ta fresco,
P. Suaaaaaaaaveeeeeee

La Prensa

The Pepinoville Press headline this morning "Carter: Bush Hurts Prospects for Peace". Our former president honored the Pepinoville Metropolitan area with a visit to some wealthy friends up in Pepinoville Heights. Gathered there were longtime friends and financial supporters. The purpose of the event was to raise cash for Pres. Carter's son, Jack, who is running for a U.S. Senate seat in Nevada. Apparently neither his visit to our fair town, nor the fundraiser, nor the fact that Pepinoville Heights is hundreds of miles outside of Nevada, was as newsworthy as his remarks about our efforts in the Muddled East. Go figger.

Just below that bit of enlightening news is an article entitled, "Your Grass is Fast". It is a shocking expose on why our grass is growing so fast this time of the year. The in-depth piece links both heat and moisture as the key culprits. The article even includes a graphic that shows average rainfall and temperatures over the past six years.

I can read the Press, eat my Cheerios, and become an informed citizen. Three birds. One stone.

Leo y aprendo,

P. Suaveson

Faltan 32 Dias

A mere thirty-two days must pass before our children return to the school house. What is on Pepino Suave's mind during these, the dog days of summer?

Here is a look-see for this blog's faithful reader (s):

• Nothing. Absolutely nothing, somedays. Somedays I can stare at a wall without a single synapse sparking in my melon. Truly remarkable. I think. Actually, point is, I don't think, sometimes.
• How long will it take for students to get it that summer is over, school is back in session, and it just isn't fair? My money is on September 5th, 3:00 p.m. You?
• How long will it take for teachers to get it that summer is over, school is back in session, and it just isn't fair? Put 20 clams on 9/5, 7:30 a.m for me, will you? Easy money...
• Who killed the mockingbird?
• Pepina and I could watch 24 hours, non-stop, of the Daily Show, and Colbert Report. To think we got cable for the soccer...
• Li'l Pepinita could listen to 24 hours, non-stop, of Radio Disney. Thing is, it's a weak signal, and it only comes in on the Pepino Suave Express radio. We've put on extra-miles just so the little pickle can finish listening to a song.
• My hips don't lie, either. So what's the point? I thought music lyrics were strange in my day...
• The Calabaza patch is taking over the back yard. It has a grip on the lilac tree like a sea monster on Captain Jack Black.
• Go Tigers

Faltan pocos dias,

Peppy

Todavia

Still hot.

Pepino Asado

P.D. See Pepina's new entry for details.

El Sol Me Pica

Pepinos Suave sits here, tapping out these words, sweating more than a cold glass of cherry kool-aid on a mid-day asphalt driveway. I'm sweating alot, for those who don't drink cold glasses of kool-aid, or who are not familiar with mid-day asphalt driveways on a Cuke County July afternoon.
On your average day, no matter the weather, Pepino Suave has the fortitude of a super heroe. Ask Pepina. Alas, my kryptonite, my aquilis (?) heal, my weakness is what I'm trying to say, are temperatures above 90 degrees farenheit when the humidity index is higher than water itself. When gills break out on my neck. When parts of me I didn't know I own chafe and burn like the coals of a thousand fires. When Li'l Pepinita fails to plead a plaintive and constant, "Let's wrestle". When it really is hotter than Hades. These are the times ol' Pepinito tosses aside his superheroe bravado, slumps his narrow shoulders, shuffles along, whining a mantra of , "Man, its hot", or "Hay pero que calor". Fans, the heat takes the Yippee out of me Skippee. Lo siento mucho. It's just that it is so hot...

Stay tuned for an account of how Pepino Suave endured carribean summers, or conversely, how the locals restrained themselves from pummeling a whiny, sweaty, bald headed gringo.

Hace demasiado calor,

Pepino Sudando

Hay Pero Que Calor

Cuke County is sweltering this weekend. We're all going to the YPCA for a swim this afternoon. Come join us...

Aguantando el calor,

Peppy

Bobble Heads

The hard working white collars at Bob El Gorila's Mobile Laboratory of Yippee-Skippe Games, Songs, and Stories have decided it is time to shamelessly exploit the magic of the Pepino Suave Experience (this concept is trade marked, you sticky-fingered thieves). Besides bumper stickers, giant foam pickles, coffee mugs, and desk calendars, we now offer Suave family bobble heads. Pepino, Pepina, and Li'l Pepinita are forever imortilized with plastic and springs in this series of action figures made by DeSoap laborers in China, and offered at a reasonable price to you, the few on this troubled planet with enough disposable income to enable a market for bobble heads and other useless crap.
Don't call 1-800-PEPINOS yet, as our inventory is stuck in the New York customs. A customs official named Mohamed found our products to be of a "suspicious" nature. Privatization...

Gozando del Mercado Libre,

Pepino "Negociante" Suave

El Vaso Me Queda Medio Lleno

The world is going to Hades in a handbasket. Gas prices are almost as expensive as anywhere else in the world. Our globe is warming. Folks in the MiddleEast aren't playing nice. The sky is falling, apparently.
Still, I get a kick out of the nice stuff that endures in the midst of chaos. Like tonight's cool, breezy sunset. Or Li'l Pepinita's piano playing wafting out into the neighborhood. Or the lady who smiled and waved when I let her into my lane during obnoxious traffic on A Pain Avenue. Or the kids in the neighborhood who just want to have fun, and have it no matter what. Or unsolicited "Te quieros" from sweet Pepina. Or a bunch of laughs and catching up with old pals. Or good food and drink without fail, daily. Or a hope-filled, take -your-breath-away view over the Cuke Valley ridge at sunrise from the back of the Walmart parking lot. Or parents close enough you can bike to, or drop what your doing and get ice cream with. Or grandparent's eyes when they see their grandchildren. Or all the good that overcomes all the bad, all the time.

Que les aproveche,

P.S.

Pete & Joe

This weekend, Pepinoville was graced with the presence of two very old friends of Pepino Suave, Pete & Joe. Pete & Joe, known as Los Dos de Detroit in these parts, came for their bi-annual visit to a Pepinoville sporting event and late-night euchre-fest. It being summer and all, we went to see the Pepinoville Pickles play Dayton Dills over at the ballpark. It was probably one of the most eventful of all their visits in the past, as we were accompanied by Bompa Suave and Abuelita Suave, the parents of the author of these words. As well, Li'l Pepinita tagged along in a courageous effort to overcome her pathological fear of mascots. She chose to enter the arena of her personal horrors flanked by the hulking frames of Pete, Joe, and Bompa, three fine examples of good nutrition and regular exercise. Or regular nutrition and some exercise, depending on the hulk. I digress. It was a wise move on Li'l Pepinita's part, but unnecesary. She took to this challenge like she did those of her first two-wheel bike, her big-girl bed, sleeping without Lamby, and eating pork rinds. With a lot of whining and squirming at first, before you knew it she was yelling at the mascots, running the aisles with Pete in order to catch a free
t-shirt thrown by the giant muppets. She watched a little of the game, too.
Pete & Joe were a big help. Not just with my daughter's mental health, but also by cleaning up what would usually be left overs of our pre-game bbq. As well, Pete engaged me in a lively discussion of the DeSoap family influence on everything here in Pepinoville. Seems that folks on the other side of the state are pretty curious about a DeSoap heir running for governor. Pete says all they know about DeSoap is that he is very rich cause his Dad made a bundle on a deal where you don't really sell soap, you just get a lot of other people to get a lot of other people to sell soap, and it's is like some big pyramid or something. I said that's all we know about the guy, too, and that every other stucture in Pepinoville has got his name on it.
Anyway, our team won inspite of giving up four runs in the first fifteen minutes of the game, the park was packed with a season record amount of fans, and there were fireworks at the end of the game. Best thing, though, was that a local bread company gave away a loaf (or two) of bread to every fan leaving the park after the fireworks. By the time our gang got back to the BompaMobile (thanks again for driving, Dad), we had nine loaves of bread at our feet. Someone was even heard to exclaim, "Joe, you're stepping on my bread."
As we played euchre well into the next day, we snacked on the spongy bread, comforted with the fact that the company claims that its enriched wheat flour and preservatives would provide us with a handful of essential vitamins. And iron. Pepina scorched a loaf or two in the morning for french toast. Pete and Joe headed out of town with a couple loaves on the dash board. Life was good.
Indeed, Pete and Joe blessed us with more than just the fine company of cherished friends. They bequeathed us with a wisdom earned from a veritable lifetime of television veiwing. The boys explained to us, this during a closely contested euchre game, that Scooby-Doo and his young charge Scrappy-Doo had a bond that goes much deeper than the normal crime fighting partnership. We feel like a veil has been lifted from our eyes...
Usually retuning in the winter to watch the Pepinoville Penguins hit the puck around the DeSoap Memorial Arena, Los Dos de Detroit promise an extrodinary summer return in two weeks to visit Cuke County's famed beaches. We'll keep a loaf of bread in the freezer boys.

Scooby-Dubee-Doo,

P. Suave

Pepina Writes!

Yes, you heard right - Pepina published an entry today on her world famous blog "Mi Vida En Durango". Double click on "Dear Pepina" under "Pepino's Picks" on your right. She reports on some fantastic emotional progress made by our Li'l Pepinita.
May her scars one day heal, and the counseling bill be reasonable...

Un esposo enemorado,

Pepinaso

La Familia Musical

Our Southern Ohio readers have crippled our costumer relations bureau with a flury of calls, letters, emails, and thrown rocks regarding an omition in our report about the Suave Family Reunion. Seems that the author of these fair words neglected to report about the Suave Family Sing-Along. After being berated by dear Pepina over the last 398 years about our lack of musical prowess, we struck back. While she was visiting the lavatory, we broke into a ditty from Pepina's favorite soundtrack, Grease. She re-entered the dining area as a table-full of Suaves belted out, in several keys (most off), "You're the One That I Want". Like the trooper she is, Pepina picked her jaw up off the ground and joined in, as we promptly stopped singing. We're so funny....

Pobre Pepina,

P. Suaveson

Hace Mucho

After many days and 2,240 miles la familia Suave has returned to Casa Pepino in beautiful Pepinoville. Here is the sequence of our journey:

• Far Southern Ohio for the Suave Family Reunion. We gathered with kin in the foothills of Appalachia for three days of swimming and nature hikes (er, hike. Sorry blood. We'll watch nature from the window next year. My bad. Calomine for the itchies, little ones).
• Upstate New York to provide cheap labor. Pepino Suave dropped off the Pepino Chicks, Pepina and Li'l Pepinita, at Tia Agronima's Orchard/Fruit Stand. There they visited and toiled along with Tia Agronima, Tio Tractor, Prima Bailarina, Primo Lap Top, and Prima Pennsylvania. Li'l Pepinita even got to work the cash register at the fruit stand where fruit is sold at the same prices as cars. $2,476.08 for a quart of Slap Knee Rasberries. By the way, I love how fruit is named for the market: sugar snap beans, honey nut squash, dew drop peas. I made these up, but you get the idea. The market made like a gazilion dollars, so they''ll probably break even. I can understand, now, why farming needs to be heavily subsidized by our generous government 'cause you can make 3 bazillion dollars on a plot of sun kissed soy beans, but still have to walk barefoot in the snow. In the summer. I'm glad I teach for food....
• Upstate Vermont, where English is a second language. Lots of French spoken along our Northeast border, friends. I attended a teacher conference in a hotel that could have been anywhere in the U.S., on a street that could have been anywhere in the U.S. I really didn't feel I was in Vermont until I drove a few miles to Lake Champlain, where I camped until it rained. Then I felt like I was in Vermont, so I moved to the reknown Ho Hum hotel, down the street from the conference, where I felt like I was anywhere in the U.S. again.
• Side note/rage: Conference was tres excellent. More on that later. Let's talk about hotels, 'cause they got the same thing going as agriculture. Get this, it is a teachers conference, so we got a slim budget, 'cause we squander all our money for bulletin board decorations, and chalk. We decided not to get coffee as part of the hotel package. You know why? I'll tell you why: $16.00 a pot of joe is what these hotels are charging. Yea. And they charge the same for a stale, boxed lunch if you choose to cater that, too. $16 a box lunch. What a racket. I got my coffee from the gas station and stomped right by the registration counter with an air of " I'll show you", my hand gripping a styrofoam cup of steaming coffee, some dripping over the side 'cause I was stomping. I'm going to write my congressmen. I should charge that rate for each lesson. Each kid. Hey....

Stay tuned for more on our week, as well as a review on Papa Pepina, the caretaker of the Suave Estate while we were gone. Be good.

Tu querido vegetal,

P. Suave

Llegamos

We're baaaaaaack! Gotta go check the calabaza patch. We'll update you later...

Hogar, dulce hogar,

Pep Si

Checking In

Found an internet cafe in the hotel of my conference. Thought I'd drop in and say hi.
Pepino got washed out. Been camping since I dropped the Pepino Chicks off at Tia Agronima's orchard. While they provide cheap, albiet documented, labor, I am kicking back at a teacher's conference in the Northeast. In order to curb expenses, Bob el Gorila has asked me to go third class. So I camped on the shore of Lake Champlain until I was rained out last night. Got a room at the Ho Hum motel (I'm not kidding. I'll take a picture of the sign and post it). Watched lots of CNN and ate what was left in the cooler.
Will fill you on all our adventures later. Especially once Pepina and Li'l Pepinita debrief me on their work as share croppers (I hope to pick them up tomorrow afternoon). Gotta go. Last call for the coffee and donuts....

Desde el Motel Ho Hum,

Pepino Andareago

Gone Camping

The pitbulls are fed, the trap door over the piranah tank is greased, and the triggers on the motion-sensored rifles are set on "hair".
Happy Independence, America. We're going camping....

Gozando de la vida,
Pepino Perdido

P.D. Can't promise any entries 'till we get back. Sorry America.. We'll talk soon.

Garage Sale

I'm exhausted. I've been running a garage sale for the last 1.5 days. Our garage sale was supposed to last 3.0 days, but our competition was just too stiff. Not only was all of metropolitan Pepinoville holding garage sales, but some of the best junk was being offered by our very neighbors on Calle Calabaza. We couldn't compete.
By noon yesterday I had all our household overflow packed into the Pepino Suave Express, ready for a trip to Goodwill.
My best costumer was a retired lady who bought one of our old phones for two bits. I tossed in another old phone for free. It was then that the old lady asked me, "You want to know what I do with these phones?" I couldn't very well say, "No", so I just waited for the inevitable. She tells me she sells 'em on Ebay for 25 bones a piece. Either she's on a fine prescription, or she is a savvy entrepreneour (sp?). My thought is, if you're buying old phones on Ebay, for any price, you must be on a fine prescrition, too. Crazy garage sale people...

Walgarage,

Pep Si

Beer Buffet

I entered the corner gas station with the paperwork for the loan on a tank of gas, and to my surprise I saw a salad bar. No, this was no salad bar. Why, it had no sneeze guard. I crept closer, rustling the chip display and stumbling over the full-sized beer wench (I know. I do a double take, too, when I see the 6'2'" bikini-clad blonde with a beverage in her hand. She's not real. She's so fake. She's cardboard.). Sure enough, it was a 12 foot-long beer buffet. Twelve feet of iced alcoholic beverages. I gazed at the sweating cans and bottles reclyning on a bed of crushed ice and reflected on all who had sacrificed to make this real. Harp music replaced the classic rock station, a gentle glow replaced the flickering floresence; until the cashier, truly bigger than life, shook me from my meditation with:
"I got one in my basement."
Seems the cashier, a young lady that could easily be a Monty Python Player, scored a buffet from the beer distributer and put it in her basement, next to the ping-pong table.
Says its a riot.

Pepina, if your reading this, never a world about your spending habits if you happen to find a beer buffet at a garage sale.
'Nuff said.

Sin buffet,

P. S Out.

Trifecta

Pepina, my beloved spouse, achieved what most bargain shoppers can only hope for - the Thrift Shopper's Trifecta, 2006. Yes, her ever-lastn' effort to find a good buy paid off this week, big time. Like the uncommon triple play of baseball, Pepina's trifecta unfolded so quickly, it took until bedtime for Yours Truly to figure out the immensity of Pepina's accomplishment. Let me lay it out here for you, Dear Reader(s):

Pepina's Thrifty Trifecta (or Triple Crown)

• A 7:00 a.m. wake up in order to begin a forty-mile round trip to her school to buy $3.58 worth of stuff that a retiring colleague was selling and had not used during the last 768 years of her teaching career. Now Pepina gets to store $3.58 of the ol' school marm's stuff for the next 768 years of her teaching career. Phenomenal. Doesn't stop here...
• Pepina drives her Asian Exress for a full week, or 3,876.908 miles, on an empty tank until gas prices reach an all time high ($3.10), then fills up the tank. Backward speculation at its best. Brillant girl.
• Finally, upon shutting down our garage sale for the night (after having sold a few dollars of our household surplus), Pepina goes kitty-corner across the street to attend Pepinoville's 85th Tupperware party of the calendar year (82 of which have been held on our humble street, Calle Calabaza). Amongst the giggles, gossip, and girly gab, Pepina managed to acquire 40 clams worth of burping beverage containers. Sheeesh. Out with the old, in with the new. Tupperware. Put Tupperware in line with Amway of the booths in hell ol' Pepino Suave will be forced to visit if I don't attain The Great Reward. Pepino praying....

On behalf of Bob el Gorila and all that is his, we congratulate Pepina on her (expensive) achievement. We love you.

Con poco plata,

Pepino Pobre