Once

Eleven years ago today Pepina and I exchanged vows. Padre Sayers said we'd love each other less that day than we would the rest of our lives. Although we raised an eyebrow at the celebate monk, his words ring true. In fact, tonight we've agreed to have a go at it another eleven years.

Eleven is heaven.

Un esposo contentisimo,

P. Suave de Pepina

Semana Soleada

• Li'l Pepinita got a double. Yesterday, she stepped up to the plate and sent a ball into the outfield. As a veteran in the coach-pitch softball league, the girl is hitting her stride. Last year she watched alot of balls, and struck out tons, too. We're not sure she even had fun. This year, she is running out to position, running into the bench, and laughing all the time. Swatting the ball like she is paid to. It helps that her team mates are enjoying the game and learning, as well.
• Bompa, Grandma, Pepina, Li'l Pepinita and Yo spent yesterday afternoon playing in the sun at family friend Ardy's house. We tore up part of her yard, planted stuff, and fetched a stuck Pepinita out of a tree. In the evening, Ardy treated us to pizza, ice cream, and a Skippo game or two at Opa's house.
• Li'l Pepinita and her Li'l Pal sang a duet, "Jesus Take the Wheel", in her school's talent show last week. They're Idol bound one day.
• I got the blade off the lawn mower, finally.
• How 'bout them gas prices.
• Can't beat the weather.

I think I've run out of points to bullet. Enjoy your week. I will.

Atentamente,

P. Suave

Dia de las Madres

I am Mama Suave's son. Three other fortunate souls on this earth can stake that claim. Periodista, Casi Italiano, young Monja, and myself have had our lives nurtured by the sweet lady from Coram avenue. She raised us as the child bride of a Detroit Policeman in a two bedroom bungalow across the street from her childhood home. By the time she had reached my current level of "maturity", her youngest was college-age. Today she is the swashbuckling investment broker for the Suave Family Fortune and the matriarch of a cross-country legacy, most of whose members still leave the seat up.
We raise our glasses of 2% milk and toast you, Mom, the author of our days...

Tu hijo orgulloso,

Peppy

Hermano Crispy

Our neighborhood had alleys. An alley wasn't just for garbage. A whole underground of activities transpired on the double track that split the backyards from one side of the block to the other. Bird catching, tag games, rock throwing, and, to my brother's chagrin, match-lighting. I was the resident pyro, and Casi Italiano was a semi-innocent bystander. I had just learned the skill of setting a whole book of matches on fire and called over to CI, "Hey come look!" My myopic brother did just that, his head bent down toward my hands, squinting at me as I fumbled with the matches. My mini-inferno flamed up and set CI's hair on fire. I started slapping at him like Curly on Mo. CI had no idea why I was accosting him until his scalp starting burning, then he started auto-slapping. We must have been a picture. Once extinguished, CI started picking at his singed hair. Finally, he flashed a look at me that I had become accustomed to; a mixture of contempt, dismay, astonishment, with a sprinkle of anger.
There you have it, THE DAY I SET CASI ITALIANO'S HEAD ON FIRE

No soy ningun bombero,

Pepster

Cabeza Quemada

Did I tell you about the time I set Casi Italiano's head afire?
America decides: if you want to hear about my brother's burning coco, comment below. Don't want to wast your time. If atleast five americans, or ten of foreign origin, comment requesting the narrative, I will oblige. No comments? More cut and past articles about American education issues. So there.

Esperando su respuesta,

P. "Fosforo" Suave

Not On The Front Page

From CNN Online:

The cost of educating border-crossing children


POSTED: 9:01 p.m. EDT, April 29, 2007 CNN News Online
HOUSTON, Texas (AP) -- Thousands of Mexican children are flocking across the U.S. border to attend school, sparking a debate in towns along the border over whether U.S. taxpayers should have to bear the costs of educating them.
The border crossing is so common in El Paso that officials opened a special lane just for students this month.
The Houston Chronicle reported Sunday that more than 1,200 people passed through that lane from Mexico on a recent morning.
Some were college or private school students, but many were coming to attend public schools.
The influx has prompted complaints from those opposed to spending U.S. tax dollars to teach students from Mexico.
The issue is especially timely in El Paso, where the school district -- which expects to take in 10,000 new students in the next five to eight years -- is preparing for a $230 million bond election for new schools next month.
Elaine Hampton, a professor at the University of Texas-El Paso, says the strained state of public education in Mexico pushes many students across the Rio Grande, just as the hope of better jobs entices their parents.
The growth of Mexican border towns like Ciudad Juarez far outpaces the government's ability to build schools, Hampton said, forcing many to turn away students. Mexican schools also can be too expensive for some parents, charging fees for books, photocopies and sometimes even the cost of administering a test.
Although many school officials are unhappy about the situation, they say there are few ways to control the number of Mexican residents attending their schools.
As long as a parent or guardian has proof of residency in that school district -- such as a water bill or lease -- their child can attend. Many of the students were born in U.S. hospitals, making them U.S. citizens who live in Mexico. Others use the addresses of American friends or relatives.
Community pressure has pushed other districts to crack down on those who violate residency requirements.
Susan Carlson, a spokeswoman for the United ISD in Laredo, said her district's schools are extra vigilant with residency checks and recently began fining students found breaking residency rules.
Luis Villalobos, a spokesman for the El Paso Independent School District, said the district has seven officers checking out potentially false addresses.
Copyright 2007 The Associated Press. All rights reserved.

Se Cae

Did I tell you about one of the times Casi Italiano almost died? It was a cool autumn afternoon in the late 70's. The three siblings Suave - Periodista, Casi Italiano and myself were playing Public Safety Officers and Fleeing Suspects on the vacant property on Pigeon beach, next to the abondoned cottage. While Periodista and I were hugging the ground shooting each other, Casi Italiano climbed an old weeping willow tree and dangled above us. Periodista and I were absorded in our efforts to riddle each other with imaginary bullets, when Casi Italiano appeared between us in a puff of dust. He fell belly-first with a muffled thud, and bounced once. He didn't move for awhile. Niether did Periodista or I, caught as we were between wanting to laugh at how funny this was, or panic and shriek like school girls. Eventually we hurried over to our fallen brother and poked him a bit, saying, "Hey, get up", and "Are you all right?". For what seemed an eternity the boy didn't breath. We gathered him up and shook him a bit, and he finally sucked in some air. Once he appeared to have come to his senses we let go and headed for home. Except Casi Italiano didn't follow, he just rambled on a path back through the field. We caught up to him and gave him the test we'd seen given to boxers on t.v. shows, "What's your name?", "What day is it?", "How many fingers...". We just got grunts from the poor lad.
We brought him back to Erie house with much effort, as he attempted to ramble away every few yards. Granny, shocked to see a catotonic kid stumble into the house, put him to bed with a wet rag on his forehead.
In the next installment of The Times That Casi Italiano Almost Died I will recount for the Dear Reader the time Yours Truly set Casi Italiano's head on fire.

Que dichosos somos,

Peps

Sheryl Crow

I am a fan of Sheryl Crow. She is a real big celebrity. She sings. She writes songs. She performs. Hence, I go to her for advice. Actually, she comes to me with her advice. As well, she comes to government officials with her advice and wags her talented finger.
Recently Sheryl offered us the latest in Celebrity Two-Bits We Didn't Solicit (CTBWDS). She wants us to use a nary one square of toilet paper @ sitting to address natures call, maybe a couple more on sittings when nature is more aggressive. This she brainstormed between gigs on her tour bus.
May I opine? A few suggestions for my Sheryls and Bruces and Chicks and Shawn Penns and whatnot:

1. Go acoustic. Always.
2. Refrain from electronic amplification of your voice or instruments.
3. Interviews should be done only with journalists using notebooks and pencil. Shoot, notebooks and pencils are the Auschwitz of our forests... Don't do interviews.
4. Use public transportation. And green public transportation, at that. Don't disappoint. I'd be broken hearted to see Angela and Brad lugging their gaggle of kiddies in a non-hybrid taxi.
5. Concerts should be lit by natural lighting. Day shows only.
6. All celebrities should live and pontificate in communal villages that put in to practice ideas sprung from very fortunate people with lots of leisure time and a huge public platform from which to spew.

Think of it. My ideas, adopted by real smart celebrities, and this world will be as green as a pickle....

Boca chancleta,

Profesor Suave

En Huelga

Pardon the sabbatical. I was protesting the weather.

Now it is nice; seventy degrees and sunny.

I blog again.

Llegue,

Peps

Llega la Primavera

Spring is in the air. Somewhere. As I shoveled my drive this week, I planned my spring projects. Shoving slush to the side, I began to prioritize the projects by cost, time to complete, and marital stress. The cost criteria has been made simple, thanks to the economy. Our budget for the season is the sum total of our returnables in the garage. That knocks off the patio project, which would have been directed by Bompa Suave.
Bompa didn't volunteer, it is just that he has an impressive wood deck background. Over several years he and a swarthy gang of buddies, weekend carpenters all, have managed to install a wood deck that spans the entire north shore of Lake Erie. Although dear Pepina and I plan on a low-key 12x12 affair, Bomps might wind up engineering a deck that would render my lawnmower useless.
The shed project is off the list, too. The Suave one-car garage is that in theory only. The Asian Express is parked sideways in bad weather, its so tight in there. You can open the car, reach out, and open the house without getting out of the car. Yes, a shed would be nice. That is, if there is room for it after the deck is built.
Reality is, our spring projects consist of fueling the lawnmower and then cutting the lawn on a regular basis. It we are especially motivated, we might apply water, sparingly.

Gozando de la primavera,

P. Suave

The Captain

Mr. Steve Yzerman, the Red Wing legend, visited Pepinoville tonight. He dropped the puck to begin the game. Li'l Pepinita appeared on the big screen holding her Red Wings poster. It was a fitting night of fun as we celebrated El Lector's birthday with many of his friends and family in attendance.

Cinco por pelear,

Pepino "Blue Line" Suave

BlogLog 4

1. Coffee/Potty routine
2. Newspaper check routine
3. Get pretty for church
4. Church
5. Opa's for dinner. Li'l Pepinita choose rollerblading as our after-dinner activity. We rollerbladed around the Villa Abuela (depending on the time of year, all of Li'l Pepinita's surviving grandparents live in the same apartment complex), only falling twice. Upon returning to Opa's apartment, we watched Bonanza. I miss that show.
6. Returned home to putz.
We're still putzing, but looking forward to the highlight of the evening: America's Favorite Videos. Get your popcorn...

Gozando de la vida,

P. "Vago" Suave

BlogLog 3.5 or "Vacation, All I Ever Wanted"

Here I provide you with the remainder of Vacation Day 1, continued from yesterday's entry, everything that happened after I retrieved the paper, but merely in sequential order. I will not date stamp Suave BlogLogs for the rest of vacation, as Pepinita is mildly irritated that I check my watch whenever anything is said or done. Sorry. Happy wife, happy life.).

Post newspaper reading:

1. Li'l Pepinita arises from the two-thirds of a super-California-king size bed that she has occupied since she shifted from her bedroom to ours in the wee hours of the morning. She has superhuman stretching powers - she can elongate her 85 pounds of body mass to occupy the same space that the largest man on earth could occupy, lying prostrate. Some girl. Pepina and I go to the chiropractor often to offset of sleeping on a portion of the matress equivalent to an army cot.
2. Li'l Pepinita walks into the dinning room and exclaims, "I'm hungry". I make pancakes. She eats them as quickly as I make 'em. As she chews, she reveals her plans for April Fools Day. It's secret. I can't tell.
3. Pepina awakes. She ambles into the dining room holding her forehead. Bingo. First head cold of vacation*
4. Pepina shares with us a book idea she has, then proceeds to go off to the office and begin writing it. I take the pancakes to her, hence the sticky keyboard that now plagues me as I post this entry. Note that Pepina is often inspired musically or literally. What separates her from the mortals is her tendency to act on the inspiration. Immediately.
5. Li'l Pepinita tends to her hygiene while I mop up the kitchen and Pepina reads us her first draft.
6. Spring putzing. Three hours of clean this, move that, smell it, etc. Our first day of spring cleaning is usually "freestyle" putzing. We just keep moving, and let our creative side guide us. During our first session, our major accomplishments included: Pepina sterilized the bathroom, I moved the firewood from the garage to the backyard, and Li'l Pepinita inventoried her dominoes.
7. Lunch/read/nap
8. YPCA. While Pepina stayed home to nurse her vacation illness, Li'l Pepinita and I went to the YPCA. We usually begin our workout with one half-hour on the tredmill. Li'l Pepinita walks while watching cartoons, and I run while watching CNN. Why, this particular day a very polite YPCA assistant informed us that you had to be 10 years old to be on the machine. All this winter we had been breaking policy! We looked at each other in shock. We had broken a rule for health! Shaking it off, Talea moved one machine over to the bike and pedaled until Sponge Bob was over, then we went to the pool.
9, We arrived home, water still in our ears, to a homemade dinner, Mom sitting at the table waiting for us. I felt like Mr. Cleaver. 'Twas a tasy feast: nachos, salad, rice and beans, and yogurt and pineapple for dessert.
10. The girls watched/I slept through that baseball movie about the old pitcher/coach/science teacher (Dennis Quade) that made it to the Bigs.
11. I put Li'l Pepinita to bed, or visa versa
12. Lights out in the Sauve abode. Day 1 put to rest.

Descanso mucho,

P. Suave

*The Suave clan has a Kennedyesque tragic quality. We fall ill only during major holidays. We've fallen into the grip of pneumonia, bronchial infections, sinus infections, flu, and colds mostly during Thanksgiving and Easter holidays. It is an unsettling irony considering the fact that we enjoy fabulous good fortune during business hours. Ah, fate.

BlogLog 3 - Vacation Edition

You asked for it, Suave Fans. Only here do we provide you with the ever-popular Pepino Sauve BlogLog - Vacation Edition. That's right, spring break began at 11:30 a.m. yesterday, when my little charges went charging out of the doors of Bob the Gorila's Home for Wayward Mocosos. To begin, I'll briefly log the morning, as the day has only just begun (does that make you hum a Carpenter's tune?), and then periodically BlogLog throughout our week of leisure:

6:15 Wake up breathing like an asthmatic, only to discover Anglela La Gata Diabolica, the inspiration of my first entry of vacation, sitting on my head.
6:16 Pad to the kitchen and fix a pot of coffee
6:19 Pad to the door to check for the paper, in vain (who am I kidding?)
6:23 Stretch in front of the t.v. As I do Pepino Yoga, I view an O.J. Simpson documentary on MSNBC, sip coffee, and avoid squashing a tenacious cat.
6:35 Inspired, I sit at the computer and begin my first entry of vacation, entitled, "La Gata Diabolica", literary candy about the family cat (see below), while checking for the morning paper every five minutes, in vain.
7:15 Succesfully retrieve the daily paper from the stoop, bring it into the office and finish this entry.

Stay tuned for more.

Leo el periodico,

Peps

La Gata Diabolica

The photo above was just taken. It is a picture of the Suave family pet, Angela La Gata Diabolica. As I write these words, she is perched on the windowsill just to my left and above my head. She peers down at me as I craft this esoteric entry. We have obscured her eyes to help protect her anonimity. Once the picture is snapped, we take out the glowing red contacts, and leave Angela La Gata Diabolica in peace. We thank her for her help and patience in creating this post for our readership.
Angela la Gata Diabolica has been freeloading off the Familia Suave fortune since October. We welcomed her into our home upon Pepinita's 8th going on 21st birthday in October. Pepinita loves Angela, and versa visa. Still, fate may never have tossed the feline into our otherwise petless lives. If it weren't for the goodwill of Stosh the Pepinoville drunk, the Suave abode would be without a furry mooch. Yes, it was Stosh the Drunk who finally tired enough for me to pry the cat from his musty, street weary arms, and accept an economically-sized bottle of Pepperment libation in return. Although his weeping obscured his words, Stosh the Drunk seemed grateful. He raised a grimy eyebrow and said, and I paraphrase because his blubbering left him even more inarticulate than usual but with a queer old English accent, "My gratitude for tearing this burden from me, in exchange for this bottle of rotgut, you rogue....", he rambled. Street people. Anyway, I got a cat for my kid, and forcibly relieved an indigent of some worry. All in a day.
So that is how I came to have a cat stare at me from above while I tap out this essay. When not freaking me out, Angela the Gata Diabolica entertains Pepinita by letting herself be prodded, carried, tossed, and pulled. In between these torture sessions she sleeps in the sun, eats expensive cat food, poops and pees in expensive cat litter, and sits on our heads if we so much as stop moving for a moment.
Thank you Stosh the Drunk for the cat. It only took me a few days to wash the stench of the street from Angelica and myself. I will always consider our frenzied wrestling match for the cat a struggle of love. I only wish the police felt the same.

La gata me mira como la bruja que es,

P. Suave el Distinguido

Line-Leader of the Future

Kindergartner Being Groomed For Line-Leader Position

BELLE MEADE, TN—Kindergarten teacher and mentor Mrs. Allen believes 6-year-old Gregory Hutter "has what it takes" for the coveted post.

Pepino Pals/Educational reformers: Read this about tomorrow's hope; the kindergarten line-leader. Double click on the title of the article for more.

Todo educativo,

Profesor Suave

Junior Varsity Frenesi

Pictured above are some of the finest, most intellegent, photogenic students in Cuke County. They are playing the Junior Varsity version of the mad-cap fast-past game of Frenzy. Each student has a beautifully illustrated body part card. As the dealer gives a card to each student, the kids shout out, in Spanish, the name of the card ("Rey", "Diez", "Caballero"), until two kids get two of the same cards. Those two kids have to shout out the other kids designated body part first (ties go to the traditional "Piedra, Papel, Tijeras" (Rock, Paper, Scissors) tie-breaker). Loads of fun, tears and jeers included.

Me pagan por eso,

Profesor Suave

Maestro Raro ll

Here, a fabulously talented second grader points to one of the three "ojos" of the wierd teacher illustration, a Bob el Gorila rite of passage.

No diga a nadie,

Profesor Suaveson

El Maestro Raro

The Maestro Raro activity is the Spanish class equivalent to the Bar Mitzva. Early each spring, Yippee Skippee second graders identify facial features of the Wierd Teacher and become official Junior Varsity members of the Bob el Gorila Experience.

Above, Juan Diego Pasqual de la Mancha Raul Jackson is about to point out one of the two noses of the Weird Teacher. Congrats, Juan Diego, you are now one of us.

Super Orgulloso,

Prof. Suave

Mas Varsity Frenesi

You can feel the competitive tension as varsity members of the March Madness Frenzi tournament is played on table 2, featuring the illustrations: El papa lee, el muchacho compra, la muchacha hace un sandwich de bologna, and finally the fan favorite, el hombre vende tortillas. May the best chamaco win!

Atentamente,

Prof. Suave

Varsity Frenesi

There is nothing quite like the level of play in a Varsity Frenzy match. Picured above are competitors at table 1, where the highest level of competition can be found. Featured illustrations are: El caballo pregunta, El hombre lleva tortillas, El muchacho va, and El papa se sienta. Hold on to your sillas.

No se puesta nada,

Prof. Suave

Caricaturas

The winter blues, mid-age funk, the-world-coming-to-and-end getting to you? Pepino S. has the answer for you: the daily cartoons. Watching/listening/reading the daily news slowly began to effect ol' Peppy. Iraq, angry conservatives, angry liberals, the economy, shockingly inept people-in-leadership, missing children, failed good guys, successful bad guys, all worked its way to make Yours Truly truly befuddled. News wasn't informing, it was simply depressing.
Until I turned to the daily comics. I'm not burying my head in the sand, no, I'm burying my head in Peanuts, Dennis the Menace, et al. Anything illustrated with a pen except Doonesbury (my fellow cartoon jonsers call it "Doomsbury").
Join us in our fight against media enhanced reality. Escape to the comics.

Salgo de la realidad,

Pepino "Mandrake" Suave

El Rostro

The youngsters at Bob the Gorila's Home for Wayward Guerkins help create the portrait of Yours Truly featured above. Students were ordered, in Spanish, to grab a marker and draw a particular facial feature. The final product contained dos narices, dos ojos grandes, y un ojo chiquito, cuatro oidos, una boca grande, y mucho pelo. They were pleased with their work. I was unsettled.

Mas feo que el diablo,

Profesor Suave

Futbol

Yea, I know. I am supposed to have an entry filled with profundity and dry wit this morning. Alas, it has been a long week without Pepino Parsed Prose, hasn't it Pepino Heads? Inspiration will have to wait 'till after Li'l Pepinita's futsol double-header this afternoon. We get two hours of pre-adolescent female athletics. This is one event in which the fans (parents) are much more interested in the match than the participants (girls).....

Hasta pronto,

Pepino Fanatico

Fresco

An uneventful week in Pepinoville, home of things Suave. Weather turns towards spring, and a slow, sunny melt has turned the fluff into slush. Nieghbors meet at the end of the driveway and bang on ice, attempting to reclaim cement lost months ago. Cars carry a film of salt dust, and every other mailbox leans away from the snow plow or inexperienced driver that tapped them during the previous storms.
Futsol season nears an end as mitts and bats come up from the basement. The YMCA is less crowded. Humans begin to outnumber the geese at the park. The river unfroze.
I think I'll go sort out my shorts. Maybe take my bike off the garage rafter.

Llega la primavera,

Pepino S.

Pepino Musical

Pepino Suave's "London Bridges" remix, "Orejas, Ojos, Nariz, Boca", has become a Yippie Skippie Top Ten hit throughout Pepinoville and the greater Pepinoville area. Kids are singing it in the hallways, minivans, and living rooms across the county. As they point to the appropriate facial features, the kids belt out the simple, yet inspired tune. Meanwhile, parents wince in pain.
The lyrics, for our Readers, are provided below, free of charge. No obligation. Keep your wallet in your pocket:

Orejas, ojos, nariz, boca

Nariz, boca

Nariz, boca

Orejas, ojos, nariz, boca

Mucho pelo!

Ears, eyes, nose, mouth

Nose, mouth

Nose, Mouth

Ears, eyes, nose, mouth

Lots of hair!

As the last line is sung, we run our fingers through our hair, or pat our pate, depending our own own personal hair line. Many Pepino Pupils take the opportunity, each time the song is performed, to point out the irony of my participation in the song. Bless the children.

Me pagan por eso,

Profesor Suave

Las Mananitas

Tomorrow, Pepina celebrates 40 years on this pickled planet. My child bride is all growed up. Li'l Pepinita and I set out to take her on a Two Score Tour of the State. We had planned on taking her a few hours North to cross-county ski with her shiny-new cross country skis (hand selected by P.Suave His Self). Ironically, six inches of snow fell during the March Pepinoville night, and we got stuck in our own driveway at the outset of the journey. We decided on a much shorter trip. We found ourselves at a snow board park a nary 20 minutes from Casa Suave. Pepina and Li'l Pepinita giggled and tumbled for a few hundred acres, and then returned to the shed for hot cocoa. We're renting a room about five city blocks from our home, and are pretending we are at a ski lodge up North.
It's working.
See ya' on the slopes.

Demasiado nieve,

Pepino Resbaloso

Joe & Pete

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Un Cuento

The entire Cuke County Community (called "Triple C", or "C Cubed", depending on what side of the county you reside) awaits the arrival of Pepinoville royalty, the Pepino Chicks. Bob the Gorila's Yippee Skippe Warehouse of Whatever has informed us that the P. Chicks have landed at the county airport, and are on their way home in the Pepino Express ll.
As we wait, we share with you the story that Blessed Breading's sixth graders crafted in Spanish class today:

Hay tres animales, un elefante, un gorilla, y un penguino. El Elefante come penguino nuggets. El gorilla come helado chocolate. El penguino come un waffle. Tres caballos caminan por el pueblo. Se sientan en una piedra grande. Los caballos cantan, "You Are My Sunshine". El elefante, el gorila, y el penguino gritan, "!Yikes, los caballos cantan!", y corren por Snap Finger Heights, Idaho.
[Translation: There are three animals, an elefant, a gorila, and a penguin. The elefant eats penguin nuggets. The gorila eats chocolate icecream. The penguin eats a waffle. Three horses walk toward town. They sit on a big rock. The horses sing, "You Are My Sunshine". The elefant, the gorila, and the penguin shout, "Yikes, the horses sing!", and run to Snap Finger Heights, Idaho.]

We hope you enjoyed the tale.

Un lector,

Profesor Suave

Blog Log ll

Wow. This Blog Log thing is really taking off. The Bob the Gorilla Warehouse of Yippee-Skippee Yadda-Yadda is being inundated with calls, faxes, and smoke signals for more of Pepino Solo's daily goings-on. No football on the tube today, one guesses. Here goes:

1. See yesterday ('cept a pinch of churchen added. Sunday School rocked. We made surprised faces and said, in wonder and in unison, "ooooooohhhh!", to demonstrate an epiphany).
2. Rinse and repeat.
3. Then the neighbors Peloteros, sent over some hot soup. Two kinds, potato and cheese, were hand delivered by the young Peloteros, Atleta, and Chica Americana. Fantastic timing, as the author of these words was just about to pour milk on a bowl of GrapeNuts. I no sooner thanked the young'uns than I opened up the whipped cream container of Potato soup and went to town. Man, it was good. I was so enthused, I moved to eat the soup in front of the bay window, in case the neighbors wanted to see for themselves how much I was enjoying the soup. Weird but sincere. Delicioso. Many thanks, Peloteros. You got my back. I got yours (better keep a hand on your wallet Mr. Pelotero Pepino pickpocket.).
4. Watched Joe Crocker sing, "Get By (with a little help from my friends)" on YouTube. Ever wonder how fickle fame is? Simon would of booted the fellow Englishman in the first round and made fun of his looks, no cabe duda.

Florida update: Li'l Pepina called to report that she held a 3 foot crocodile in her lap this afternoon. Thanks for watching my kid, Pops. I always felt safe while you raised me. Come to think of it, I rode on the handlebars of speeding Harleys, played in streets and alleys, rode a bike without a helmet, rode in the backseat-facing backwards sans seatbelt of a station wagon throughout childhood, shared an orange bedroom with two brothers and lots of sharp corners, inhaled smoke second-hand, stepped on a crack, so on and so forth. Makes a crocodile in the lap of a child seem so innocent..
Pepina seems to be enjoying herself, as well. Check out her blog. She hasn't written anything in days. Girl's got a life...She is watching the Grease audition show tonight. Wish I could watch her face. I might take a picture of her Grease Face one day for this esteemed blog. Nothing like her Grease Face. Watching her watch a t.v. show is worth a million clams. She views t.v. with passion.

Vuelo solo,

Peps

Blog Log (Debut)

As promised, Pepino Public, the worlds first pickled Blog Log:

1. Awoke
2. Checked for paper.
3. Went to the lavatory.
4. Checked for paper.
5. Fed cat and "dug for chunks" in cat's litter.
6. Heard a noise outside. Checked for paper.
7. Turned on computer, checked for paper as it booted.
8. Retrieved paper and saluted paperboy as he trudged up the street.
9. Read said paper as I ate Golden Grams knock-off. Aldi's brand, I think.
10. Put on paint clothes (my play clothes inside-out).
11. Painted
12. Painted some more.
13. Missed a spot.
14. Cleaned up
15. Off to YMCA. Watched VH1 show about entertainers as young as my students as I jogged on a treadmill. Didn't get anywhere.
16. Showered.
17. Entered Meijer Thrifty Acres to by stuff for the week.
18. Went to Menard's to buy more paint stuff.
19. Returned home
20. Ate GrapeNuts while watching YouTube. I focused on George Carlin religious bits tonight. My favorite is his compacting of the Ten Commandments into Two Easy To Remember Commandments ("Moses could of carried 'em down the mountain in his pocket, for Christ's sake!").
21. Wrote this/am writing this Blog Log about the day in the life of a Pepino whose family is sunning in Florida.

To our Florida readers: if you see Pepina or Li'l Pepinita, give them my best. So does La Gatita (we strive to protect our pet's anonymity), the fiercest feline in all of Cuke County. That cat has been running around this place like she's smoking the cat nip. She ran down the hallway as fast as she could, jumped onto the rug, and slid into the door. I woulda' paid to see that again. She won't repeat the feat.

El gallo pinto no pinta; el que pinta es el pintor,

Pepino Solito

En Rumbo

The Pepina Chicks are en route to warmth. They've taken the last airplane out of chilly Cuke County for sunny Florida, winter home of Bompa and Grandma Sauve. Pepinita is so thrilled, she isn't concerned about rain in the tropics. There's always the Shell Factory, she claims.

I picked her up early from school. She stuffed a note in my pocket. I read it after she left. It reads:

Dear Dadyo,
I reaeaeaeally [sic] miss you. I wish I could sqert [sic] yuo with a bumper bowet [sic] sqert [sic] gun in a bumper bowt [sic, again]! I hop [sic, last but not least] you have a good time without me.
Love,
Talea
P.S. Please write back!xoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo(the "xo" pattern continues throughtout an entire page 2)

As I write these words, the Chicks Pepino fly over miles of U.S.A on their way to Papa/Mama Suave's sprawling winter play land complex, replete with horseshoes, shuffles and accompanying boards, pools, miles of paved golf cart highways, and weather to write home about.
Something of note: Their arrival will immediately lower the average age of Florida folks from 78 years, 5 months, to 78 years, 4 months, and two weeks. Pass that on. No charge. Keep your wallet in your pocket.
What does a humble Pickle do while the lasses are gone? Well, I just finished watching 45 minutes of Stevie Ray Vaughn clips on YouTube, after scrapping ice off the drive, eating a salad while reading the Pepino Press, and am now planning on watching the Comedy Channel until I get the urge to stare at my eyelids. Maybe I'll do a weekend log on the blog. A log of the single pickle. Pepino Solo.
Stay tuned.

Ando solo,

Peppy

Grannyism: "The Dickens"

La Monja gifted us this picture. It could be a picture of Pepinoville today.

It is snowing like the dickens here in bucolic Pepinoville. Chicago beat the dickens out of New Orleans tonight (New Orleans previously had the dickens beat out of them by Hurricane Katrina).

The dickens Granny used when she couldn't easily come up with a standard unit, but she was emphatic that it would be a big unit, indeed. Examples:

"I beat the dickens out of that rug, and it's still full of dust."

"It's (raining/snowing/sleeting/other act of God) like the dickens."

Feel free to use this Grannyism, or any other, as Granny neglected to copyright her modismos. They are public domain. Use 'em like the dickens.

En mi humilde memoria,

Pepino Nieto

Hace Frio

This week, the good people of Pepinoville are distracted from their constant concern about global warming. It has been colder than the dickens (Grannyism. Look for it in a near future entry) in and around Cuke County.
Cold weather brings an interesting phenomena to the hallways of the schools. I like to call it the Snow Pants Shuffle. It is the sound of nylon against nylon as kids swish through school, leg rubbing against leg, creating static electrical charges that could fuel the school, if harnessed. The climax of the SP Shuffle is the contorted gymnastics most kids endure in getting out of or into their snow pants. Nothing like standing at my doorway watching kids struggling with their winter wraps as they gossip with each other. A millions times more entertaining than America's Funniest Videos, a Suave Family tradition.

Me pagan por eso,

Profesor Suave

Cuatro Rincones

I have avoided Four Squares like a plague. Four Squares, I always believed, was in the Hang Man league of games-that-are-fun-but-don't -teach-anything. Educational cotton candy. Time fillers. Empty calories. Down time. Yada. Yada.
Anyway, my dear charges at Bob the Gorila's Home for Wayward Skateboarders were treated to a different Spanish teacher last year while I was away reforming the Mexican educational system. Seems the beloved Sra. Alfonsina indulged the students in the black-listed Four Square competition on many occasions. My kids insisted it was fun, safe, low in calories, and why not play it. This plea was heard by my elfantin years 465,987.098 times over the last semester, more or less. I finally relented. The flesh is weak.
I tweaked the rules to the game by re-naming the corners (rincones, accent over the "o" can be applied by magic marker, as I can't do it with this key board and my limited tech skills) with Spanish vocabulary that we are going to need for the next class story. I pull a stick from the stick jar, and the kid whose stick it is (why, the sticks are numbered!), goes out into the hall way. We run for a corner, all of us, while chanting, "!Vaya,vaya, vaya!" ("Go, go, go"). When we are all in a corner of our choice, pushing and shoving like businessmen on a crowded elevator, we shout, in unison (sounds like the way the Ed McMan always shouted, "Heeeeeeeeere's Johny!),
"?Queeeeeeeeeeeee rincon?" ("Whaaaaaaat corner?"). Our friend in the hallway, without looking in on us, shouts the name of one of the corners. If he/she/it calls your corner, ya'll gots to sit down. !Rayos! (either, shoot, darn, snap, drats, or oh man. You pick).
By the time the game was over, the students had shouted/listened to the new vocabulary a few dozen times, atleast. They didn't even feel like they were learning.
Well, good citizens of Pepinoville, there's your tax money at work. Stay tuned for a review of our latest class story, a culmanation of four mini-stories, in Spanish, of love and loss.

Progreso para el futuro,

Profesor Suave

Galletas

On behalf of Li'l Pepinita and the Girl Scouts of America, buy some cookies. I highly recommend the short bread if there's milk in the house. If not, thin mints are a good option. Post your cookie requests on "comment" below. Our li'l Girl Scout will be in touch...

Te doy una galleta,

Papa Suave

Pepinita's News

The hottest new blog in the blogosphere is right at your fingertips. Li'l Pepinita has launched her own electronic journal : Pepinita's News. This log of things Pepinita is located at:
www.pepinita.blogspot.com, or double click on Pepinita's News under "Pepino Picks" on the side bar at right.

Un padre orgulloso,

Papi Pepino

Presidential Fly Over

Twenty-one F10 Fighters flew over town, concluding President Gerald Ford's burial ceremony. The squadron flew up-river, just above the lingering smoke of the armed salute. As the 21st plane broke off and soared straight into the clear, golden dusk, the crowd standing with us on the Leonard Street bridge watched in hushed reverence (except the young lady in the Honda honking at the stopped traffic. Late for a hair appointment, apparently. We all hope she got there in time. Sorry for the inconvenience.).

Thanks to our friend, La Contable, for the picture.

Un humilde ciudadano,

Pepino Suave

La Patriota Tia Nina

The following was received early this morning by the Bob the Gorila Editorial Board. It is an unedited message from our incredible Great Aunt Nina, Granny's Mom's cousin-in-law. Aunt Nina is the fastest 88 year-old on the face of the earth. Among her many achievements is her service as a W.A.C., with her sister, during World War II. She is also a long-time supporter/former leader of the Girls Scouts. To list the rest of her activities, honors, awards, and good deeds would take several entries, so stay tuned for more about our heroe, Aunt Nina.
Here is what she had to say about her first hand experience of the arrival of the former President Gerald Ford's casket and entourage to Grand Rapids last night; typed all in capital letters as all of Aunt Nina's correspondence is sent:

I WATCHED THE FORD FAMILY BOARD THE PLANE IN D.C ,, THEN HEADEDDOWNTOWN GRAND RAPIDS... PARKED IN THE WESTMINISTER CHURCH PARKING LOTAND WENT IN AND ASKED TO PARK THERE FOR THE DAY... WALKED MONROE MALL TO THE MUSEUM.. THEY HAD TOLD US THAT THE VETERANSWOULD LINE PEARL STREET... WHEN I GO THERE .. THERE WASN'T A VET INSIGHT.... SO I JUST WALKED ACROSS THE STREET AND STOOD IN DAYS INN YARD..SURROUNDED BY LOTS OF PEOPLE BEHIND A FENCE.... THEN THE BOY SCOUTSMOVED IN.. THINK EVERY SCOUT IN MICHIGAN WAS THERE.... WE WAITED ANDWAITED... WIND WAS BLOWING BUT THE CROWD STOOD CLOSE AND SO I WAS NEVERCOLD....SOME ONE THAT LIVED NEAR THE MUSEUM SAID THAT JUST BEFORE SHELEFT HOME.. THAT THE PLANE WAS 45 MINUTES LATE LEAVING D.C... SOOOOOOOOOOOOO IT WAS AFTER FIVE WHEN THEY ARRIVED.... ABOUT 6... WESTARTED TO MOVE IN FOR THE VIEWING... AGAIN,, THEY TOLD US THE VETS HADBEEN ON THE MICHIGAN ST BRIDGE AND WOULD GO AHEAD OF THE SCOUTS,,,, ANDTHEY DID.... SO I WAS STANDING AT THE EDGE OF THE STREET AND APOLICE OFFICER SAW ME... HAD ON MY LEGION HAT ,WHICH HAS MY WAAC EMBLEMON IT... HE SAID WAIT A MINUTED ,, YOU COME RIGHT IN HERE BETWEEN THESETWO SCOUTS... NOW GUYS TAKE CARD OF HER.... SO FOR AN HOUR OR MOVE WECREPT ALONG TOWARD THE DOOR.... A LOT OF THE SCOUTS DIDN'T HAVE ONJACKETS... SOME WERE VERY COLD BEFORE WE GOT INSIDE... IT WAS VERY QUIETONCE INSIDE... WHILE I WAS WAITING A YOUNG MAN ASKED WHAT THE EMBLEMON MY HAT WAS AND WHY I HAD ON A LEGION HAT... WE EXCHANGED A FEW WORDSAND HE LEFT... IN A FEW MINUTES HEW AS BACK WITH A REPORTER ANDPHOTOGRAPHER.. I HAD SEEN HER ON THE NOON NEWS... WE CHATTED AND SHE SAID IT WOULD BE ON THE EVENING NEWS... NOT SURE IT WAS ,, I WASN'THOME YET... SO THAT WAS MY DAY AND I MET LOTS NICE PEOPLE AND WE ALL AGREEGERRY FORD WAS A NICE MAN...... LOVE TO ALL MOM, NINA ,, AUNT NINA ,,WHATEVER FITS.

Es nuestra tia,

Pepino Orgulloso

El Recien Llegado 2007

!Bienvenidos 2007!

Les esperamos mucha prosperidad,

La Casa Suave