The girl who wrote this letter was sitting next to Abby (our daughter) when she found out they weren’t going to mountain school. These kids have been waiting YEARS for this trip. Yes, of course there are others suffering things much worse. But that doesn’t make this suck any less.
Just kidding. I don’t know how to convert to unicorn years. But I did just spent the past 90 minutes erasing at least 20 first sentences, which feels like waaay too long to have only this to show for it. I had one starter about converting human years to guinea pig years, and one about the number of helium addicts among the world’s unicorn population. And then everything started to blend together. I’m flummoxed! But I’m posting anyway.
Glad to be back! (I think.)
It’s easy to play. The only thing you need is a bag of smore-sized marshmallows. Pick one person to go first. They stick a marshmallow in their mouth and have them say “chubby bunny.” ( No chewing! Just leave it there.) Then you do that over and over until their mouth can’t hold any more marshmallows and they start laughing and spit the slobbery marshmallows all over the place. Now that’s what I call entertainment.
Here are the totals:
Suzanne: 5 marshmallows. She went first and she couldn’t stop laughing. I think that’s why she got last place.
Zach: 6 marshmallows. It was a dream come true for him. His parents laughed and cheered while he crammed as much sugar into his mouth as he could.
Abby: 7 marshmallows. In this sport, missing teeth is almost the equivalent to steroids.
Me: 13 marshmallows. Ohh yeah!Uh huh! Chubby Bunny champ! I had a little time to taunt my wife and kids. Then I scooped out a sink full of slimy marshmallows before giving in to the sugar coma. Yeah, my jaw is sore from stretching like a python. And the cavity monsters in my mouth probably feel like they just won the lottery. But that’s what it takes to be a champ. Maybe in another 22 years (dentures out!) I’ll be ready to defend my title.
update september 15 2011
i just read about people dying playing chubby bunny. no more chubby bunny for the munsons.
Cereal dust- is there any sugar like it? Maybe I’m running in the wrong circles, but it seems to me that the stuff at the bottom of the box is WAY underappreciated. Frosted Flakes crumbles into a candy sand. Lucky Charms melts into a fine powder that borders on intangibility . Each one unique and awesome. Each one pretty and yummy and freakin’ rocket fuel! They’ll send you to the stratosphere when you’re still in your pajamas, then send you crashing back down to Earth while you are… uhhh… still in your pajamas. Froot Loops. Fruity Pebbles. Crunch Berries. Cocoa Puffs. Trix! In the darkest corners of a cardboard box lies a gift from the sugar gods. Reach it and you can go from barely awake to cuckoo for cocoa puffs instantly.
A few years ago I gave a spice rack filled with 6 different cereal dusts at a white elephant Christmas party. Today it’s art and who knows what’s next? Maybe a story character who sells lucky charms dust to the healthy kids at the bus stop. This stuff is an untapped gold mine. So many possibilities. And with rocket fuel, the sky’s the limit.
Ladies and Germs, boys and gulls, I present to you….
I am running for mayor. Mayor of my house. Abby announced yesterday that the Munsons are having elections on Friday for several key positions- kitchen manager, activities coordinator, popcorn maker, mayor… And it looks like mayor is where it’s at. Abby tells me that being the mayor is “like being the principal of the house. You don’t have to do everything but you can if you want.” So Abby is running for mayor. And I am running against her.
She’s a ruthless campaigner. She’s pulling out every trick in the book:
consider my more honest pledges:
I could go on. But the sheer volume of campaign materials she has created is too much ground to cover in one election cycle.
But the point is this. I fancy myself a good leader. Sure I have no experience at being a leader, but she’s not that far ahead of me.
Nonetheless voters- I’m leaving it in your hands. Vote Dad for Mayor!
The kids, the dog and I went to Orcas Island for our last trip of the summer. We met up with our good friend Steve D’Amico and daughter Olivia and camped out at Doe Bay.
This trip was a necessary trip. Last month I took the kids on a spontaneous camping trip that sucked. It was a mile long uphill hike where I forgot the sleeping bags and water. We ate lucky charms and drank 7 up and slept under a shared blanket and the tent’s rain fly (until it started raining.) Both Abby and Zach told me they never wanted to go camping again. But after some bargaining, they decided to give me one more chance.
The Doe Bay Resort is a fascinating place. It’s kind of like a commune with short term residents. Yurts and tiny cabins and tents. An organic garden that feeds the restaurant guests. A community fire pit and (gasp!) clothing optional hot tubs. It was a unique experience and we had a blast.
We played a lot of Yahtzee and Farkle, and collected a bunch of rocks. The kids wandered around with newly made friends, Stevie D and I kicked it, and I spent lots of time (all of it, really) sharing a leash with our dog Roger. Any time I tried to leave him in the car or at camp, he yipped away the surrounding serenity. But that was nothing really. Our first morning there, at 730am, Abby went to the car to get Roger’s leash and accidentally hit the panic button. Since we were staying in a “natural amphitheater,” the sound bounced and echoed throughout the bay. I had to run across the gravel road, half dressed and in bare feet, to help Abby turn it off. Ahh good times.
It’s been a wild summer, full of great things and tragedies. It’s so nice to have such awesome people to be with through it all.