The 324th annual Winter Series of Euchre With the Boys tournament was held this weekend in slippery Pepinoville. Pepina and I competed against each other, teamed with the Detroit Duo of Joe (my mate) and Pete (Pepina's partner), for two days of neck-to-neck Euchre competition. The 24 hour throw-down was only interrupted by a hockey game and a short nap. By the time the Motor City Mad Men left, the result was:
Joe and Pepino S. 10 games won
Pete and Pepina, 9 games won
A pity game was held just before the Mad Men's departure. The results of which are inconsequential.
The 325th Annual Summer Series of Euchre with the Boys will be held during a Pepinoville Pukes homestretch in July. Joe and I expect a repeat in the heat.
Good game.
Ganamos,
P. "Baraja" Suave
P.D. Those who have followed the august Euchre Series with the Boys might expect a bitter entry regarding this weekend's competition on beloved Pepina's blog soon. Give her time...
PD2 Reruns. Refer to the July 23, 2006 entry about Joe and Pete's last visit to Pepinoville for the 324th Summer Series of Euchre with the Boys. It was another hallmark weekend. It was the one that Talea faced her mascotophobia, and we all received free bread. Check it out.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Una Conversacion Estudiantil
Exhibit 1 of "The Attention Span of a First Grade Language Class":
Teacher asks class, in Spanish, "What day is it today?" (translated for the monolingual)
Girl walks up to teacher, "My dad's in the hospital."
Teacher, "Your dad's in the hospital? What happened?"
Girl replies, "His arm hurts so they're going to take out his tonsils and a piece of his tongue."
Teacher, in shocked tone, "Oh me, oh my!"
***Hours later***
Girl's dad, "Hi Profesor Suave. How's trix?"
Teacher, "Hi Girl's Dad. Say, hear tell your arm hurts, so they're trimming some meat off you?!"
Girl's Dad, "Some HMO, no?"
Me pagan por eso,
Prof. Suave
Friday, February 23, 2007
The Intrepid Fallen Heroes
No apologies for my absence this week, Pepino Pals. My legion of faithful readers should not be neglected of my pickled prose, but as Popeye would say, "I have me reasons". It's not just that I've been busier than an armless man in a slap-face competition. It's mainly because I havent' had the usual healthy, wholesome, warm and fuzzy thoughts to jot down for my readership to read and enjoy/cherish/pass on to co-workers. I'm mad. As mad as a dilled egg. Below I have excerpted a description of a cause that is beyond worthy. It is an obligation.
I have no problem with the Fund, of course. What does put vinegar in my jar is related reports of neglect and mismanagement at an older part of the Brooke Army Medical Center, where the new state-of-the-art facility is located. I've learned most about the story on MSNBC's Imus in the Morning Show, but have found little more about it on t.v., radio, or the internet. Time to write a letter to some elected politicos. Maybe bill Halliburton for repairs. Why isn't this a headline? Our maimed soldiers come home to mold in the rooms they rehabilitate in? Leaking ceilings? Crumbling walls?
Pardon the bile. Below is a blurb about the good, fuzzy side of the story:
The Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund has completed construction of a world-class state-of-the-art physical rehabilitation facility for wounded warrior at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas.
The Center will serve military personnel who have been catastrophically disabled in operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. The Center will also serve military personnel and veterans severely injured in other operations and in the normal performance of their duties, combat and non-combat related.
Although sufficient funding has been received for the construction costs, the Fund is accepting donations to provide additional services for our wounded military and veteran heroes and their families. These services may include facilities for patients' children, additional medical equipment and supplies, medical research to improve the care of patients, or other areas relating to the Center's activities including the patients and their families. One hundred percent of contributions to the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund will continue to go to these services, with nothing taken out for the Fund's administrative costs.
If you are considering a donation: www.fallenheroesfund.org or double click on The Intrepid Fallen Heroes title above this entry.
Malhumorado,
P. Suave
I have no problem with the Fund, of course. What does put vinegar in my jar is related reports of neglect and mismanagement at an older part of the Brooke Army Medical Center, where the new state-of-the-art facility is located. I've learned most about the story on MSNBC's Imus in the Morning Show, but have found little more about it on t.v., radio, or the internet. Time to write a letter to some elected politicos. Maybe bill Halliburton for repairs. Why isn't this a headline? Our maimed soldiers come home to mold in the rooms they rehabilitate in? Leaking ceilings? Crumbling walls?
Pardon the bile. Below is a blurb about the good, fuzzy side of the story:
The Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund has completed construction of a world-class state-of-the-art physical rehabilitation facility for wounded warrior at Brooke Army Medical Center in San Antonio, Texas.
The Center will serve military personnel who have been catastrophically disabled in operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. The Center will also serve military personnel and veterans severely injured in other operations and in the normal performance of their duties, combat and non-combat related.
Although sufficient funding has been received for the construction costs, the Fund is accepting donations to provide additional services for our wounded military and veteran heroes and their families. These services may include facilities for patients' children, additional medical equipment and supplies, medical research to improve the care of patients, or other areas relating to the Center's activities including the patients and their families. One hundred percent of contributions to the Intrepid Fallen Heroes Fund will continue to go to these services, with nothing taken out for the Fund's administrative costs.
If you are considering a donation: www.fallenheroesfund.org or double click on The Intrepid Fallen Heroes title above this entry.
Malhumorado,
P. Suave
Saturday, February 17, 2007
El Sillon de Bompa
This is Bompa's chair. It resides in our house, La Casa Suave. I stole it. However, I refer to the chair as my "pre-inheritance". You see, the reclyner was offered to me by my mother, the author of my life, prior to their move South. According to Bompa, Mom neglected to confer with Pops. We have re-constructed the scenario and presume their conversation went as such: Mom said, "Tim's taking your seat", and Dad heard, "Tim is talking to Pete", or something like that. During the confusion, I snuck into town with my 260 pound friend, his wirey son, and a trailor. In a wink, and under the cover of night, we offed with the seat of snoozes before Dad was the wiser.
To this day, when visiting, Bompa often sits in the chair and sighs. They are the sighs of memories lost.
See ya' by the fire...
Super comodo,
Pepino Siesta
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Un Dia de Instruccion
One of my schools has a principal whose weekly routine includes writing a note to staff, and another to parents. Both notes include calendar items, birthdays, and the like. What I look forward to is his letter to staff and parents. He takes the time to write a note to each audience. I have enjoyed and been informed by his reflections and observations of his school. This week's note to staff I just had to share with you Pepino Heads. I think it would be appreciated by my pickled pals.
He begins by stating that we face a pretty busy week next week, and that he is providing some humor to get us "started with a smile on our face". Here is what followed:
Betty-Ann decided that instead of checking out books by writing the names of borrowers on the book cards herself, she would have the youngsters sign their own names, telling them they were signing a "contract" for returning the books on time. Her first customer was a second grader, who looked surprised to see her.He was used to Mrs. G. He brought four books to the desk and shoved them across to Betty-Ann, giving her his name as he did so. Betty-Ann pushed the books back and told him to sign them out. The boy laboriously printed his name on each book and then handed them to her with a look of utter disgust. Before Betty-Ann could even begin her speech, the boy said, "Mrs. G can write."
Sondra was watching her classroom while the students were drawing. She noticed one little girl working especially intently so she walked over and asked the little girl what she was drawing. "I'm drawing God, " the girl replied. Sondra paused and said, "but no one knows what God looks like." Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing the girl replied, "they will in a minute."
Mr. K was teaching a lesson on the circulation of the blood. Trying to make the matter clearer, he said, "Now class, if I stood on my head, the blood, as you know, would run into it, and I would turn red in the face. So then, why is it that while I'm standing upright in the ordinary position the blood doesn't run into my feet?" A student quickly shouted, "Cause your feet ain't empty"
Me pagan por eso,
Profesor Sauve
He begins by stating that we face a pretty busy week next week, and that he is providing some humor to get us "started with a smile on our face". Here is what followed:
Betty-Ann decided that instead of checking out books by writing the names of borrowers on the book cards herself, she would have the youngsters sign their own names, telling them they were signing a "contract" for returning the books on time. Her first customer was a second grader, who looked surprised to see her.He was used to Mrs. G. He brought four books to the desk and shoved them across to Betty-Ann, giving her his name as he did so. Betty-Ann pushed the books back and told him to sign them out. The boy laboriously printed his name on each book and then handed them to her with a look of utter disgust. Before Betty-Ann could even begin her speech, the boy said, "Mrs. G can write."
Sondra was watching her classroom while the students were drawing. She noticed one little girl working especially intently so she walked over and asked the little girl what she was drawing. "I'm drawing God, " the girl replied. Sondra paused and said, "but no one knows what God looks like." Without missing a beat, or looking up from her drawing the girl replied, "they will in a minute."
Mr. K was teaching a lesson on the circulation of the blood. Trying to make the matter clearer, he said, "Now class, if I stood on my head, the blood, as you know, would run into it, and I would turn red in the face. So then, why is it that while I'm standing upright in the ordinary position the blood doesn't run into my feet?" A student quickly shouted, "Cause your feet ain't empty"
Me pagan por eso,
Profesor Sauve
Friday, February 09, 2007
Grannyism
Tickled to Death
This phrase didn't sound so macabre when Granny used it. "Tickled to death" replace "thrilled" or "ecstatic" in Granny's lexicon. Some examples:
"Ron primed the pump. I'll be thrilled to death to take a shower again."
"I'd be thrilled to death if the ol' fart calls B-12, and I win the pot."
"Pay the Man, again? I'll bet you're thrilled to death to beat your old Granny out of all her nickles."
Encantado,
Pepino Nieto
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Todavia
Cold continues. There's a coating of ice on the kitchen window sill. Streets and driveways are flanked by piles of last week's snow. The furnace runs like an Arab's dream. It's February in Cuke County.
While folks in warmer climates smirk and turn there faces to the sun, just remember Southern Man, the chill keeps our cockroaches small. Your insects could be mounted and road. You could ride a Florida roach in order to lasoo a Florida fire ant, they're so big.
We don't want them around, anyhow.
Enjoy your warmth, Southern Man.
Del Norte,
Pepino Nordico
While folks in warmer climates smirk and turn there faces to the sun, just remember Southern Man, the chill keeps our cockroaches small. Your insects could be mounted and road. You could ride a Florida roach in order to lasoo a Florida fire ant, they're so big.
We don't want them around, anyhow.
Enjoy your warmth, Southern Man.
Del Norte,
Pepino Nordico
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Demasiado Frio
No Snow Day, today, schoolmates. It's a Cold Day. That's right; school is out for the cold, and the hard pack snow on Cuke County roads. The last substantial snow was Saturday. Since then we've had single digit temperatures that won't let salt or radiant sun do the job on the snow. Yesterday Opa Suave and I took to the streets and highways inspite of the conditions. The weather heads were right on the money; there wasn't a single stretch of road in decent condition. Hence, this is the second day of school closings.
Sunday, the list of church closings was longer than the "bar" listings in the Hamtramck yellow pages.
What with all the school and church closings, it is still amazing to see parking lots full at "non-essential" stores like the appliance stores and such. Gotta have a certain attitude to ignore warnings and take your ton or so of sheet metal out onto the ice at great speeds in order to shop. Just me.
The paperboy has delivered his bundle of propaganda throughout this blizzard like a mailman. Sunday, I was so inspired by his timely delivery during a painfully cold dawn, that I called his home and told his momma. Here's to the paperboy delivery guy fellah. They don't raise 'em like that anymore.
My brother's and I were paperboys. We speak a certain language. We get it. I'm am sure Casi Italiano and Periodista are both staring at their monitors right now, nodding in silent understanding. Hey guys, remember the costumer that never tipped but would call home and tell Mom what great paperboys we were? "May Sunday's paper land on his roof" we'd say. "Compliments don't pay for braces" Pops Suave would mutter. "Tighter then a Dutchman" Granny would add, never suspecting that one of hers might one day betroth someone of the, shall we say, Dutch persuasion.
Ah, the days of hand-held news. We delivered in all elements, to folks of all races, creeds, and gum diseases. Look at us now.
Here is to all you hardy folk out there, like our newspaperboy guy, that serve us regardless the weather or thriftiness of those you serve.
Con mucho respeto,
P. Suave
Sunday, the list of church closings was longer than the "bar" listings in the Hamtramck yellow pages.
What with all the school and church closings, it is still amazing to see parking lots full at "non-essential" stores like the appliance stores and such. Gotta have a certain attitude to ignore warnings and take your ton or so of sheet metal out onto the ice at great speeds in order to shop. Just me.
The paperboy has delivered his bundle of propaganda throughout this blizzard like a mailman. Sunday, I was so inspired by his timely delivery during a painfully cold dawn, that I called his home and told his momma. Here's to the paperboy delivery guy fellah. They don't raise 'em like that anymore.
My brother's and I were paperboys. We speak a certain language. We get it. I'm am sure Casi Italiano and Periodista are both staring at their monitors right now, nodding in silent understanding. Hey guys, remember the costumer that never tipped but would call home and tell Mom what great paperboys we were? "May Sunday's paper land on his roof" we'd say. "Compliments don't pay for braces" Pops Suave would mutter. "Tighter then a Dutchman" Granny would add, never suspecting that one of hers might one day betroth someone of the, shall we say, Dutch persuasion.
Ah, the days of hand-held news. We delivered in all elements, to folks of all races, creeds, and gum diseases. Look at us now.
Here is to all you hardy folk out there, like our newspaperboy guy, that serve us regardless the weather or thriftiness of those you serve.
Con mucho respeto,
P. Suave
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Blizzard '07
Saints alive! It's snowing like it's paid to, and all that. Aunt Nina's furnace was snuffed out by 10:00 a.m., at the beginning of a day-long white out. It is 4 degrees in Cuke County, which should be the high for the rest of the weekend.
We left the Casa Suave once, in order to take Opa to the Red Hot Pickle for a burger and fries. That was mid-day, and the one mile round-trip was a white nuckler. Even A-Pain Avenue had ruts.
Cogiendole suave,
Peppy
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