The Y Generation

The Silent generation, people born before 1946

The Baby Boomers, people born between 1946 and 1959.

Generation X, people born between 1960 and 1979.

Generation Y
, people born between 1980 and 1995 .

Why do we call the last one generation Y? I did not know,

but a caricaturist explains it eloquently below…


I learned something new today!


Kids Say the Funniest Things!

My youngest stepson, B., is such a clown. He’s funny and loveable and totally enjoys being the center of attention. He’s half Asian, he’s proud of it, and this has led him to say some hilarious stuff.

“Thai. That’s Thai, like in Thailand, not Taiwan!” he spouted,  with a look that said “you’re so stupid” on his little 8 year old face, when asked a few years ago what KIND of Asian he is. Hahaha!

One of my husband’s favorite nicknames for B. is “Secret Asian Man”. We call him that often, and ask for Secret Asian Man sometimes when we call him at home.

B. gets a great tan every summer, so he’s also, affectionately, known as “Mr. Brownstone”.

“See how BROWN I am!”, he’ll say to my hubby. They always compete to see who is browner, and my hubby swears he is browner, but, really, B. always wins. (Hubby disputes this, but it is true.)

Tonight we picked the dudes up and took them to a new fast food place we just found a couple of weeks ago. We’re sitting out on the patio visiting (read: boys and dad are verbally hammering each other the entire time and thinking it’s hysterically funny), eating and having a good time.

During the course of this family outing my oldest stepson, N., started talking about the time that my daughter felt it necessary to drag 6 year old B. from the hot tub at the recreation center they were at because she thought the guy in the hot tub was trying to be a little too friendly with our little Secret Asian Man. She protects her little brothers at any cost! (No children were harmed, she’s just very cautious.)

My hubby joked that the man was trying to have a “dangerous liason” with B. That totally cracked N. up and he was guffawing loudly when B., who swears he really did hear his dad say “dangerous liason”, pipes up and says, ” That guy thought I was DANGEROUSLY ASIAN!”

I was laughing so hard I would have shot lettuce across the table if I’d have had a bite of salad in my mouth!  I had tears streaming down my face! 

 Yep, this is why we moved back to Arizona.

Respectful Kids

Last night I came home late from work, exhausted and having had a not-so-great day.

I drove up in front of my house and my two stepsons were there playing basketball. They waved and smiled, I waved back.

I got out of my vehicle with my purse and a bag of containers in which I had taken my lunch to work. My youngest stepson said, “Is there anything we can help you carry in, Lynda?”

That made me smile! I am blessed with such a wonderful family!

Please Pass the Celery

Many years ago, it seems like a different lifetime actually, my best friend’s family and my family would often spend weekends at each other’s homes. It was a nice time to catch up, play games and talk about whatever was on our hearts, as we lived 100 miles apart and didn’t have the day to day interaction that we would havePick-A-Deli loved. But more than just a time to catch up it was a time where we could truly be ourselves, without reproach from anyone who did not understand our special kind of insanity! We had a blast…always.

One weekend they were at our house and my friend and I had cooked a nice family dinner, to be eaten around the table. It was probably something like deer steak, mashed potatoes and gravy (yes, I did learn to make good gravy!) and some kind of cooked vegetables. This particular dinner also included celery and carrot sticks. I had recently had a Tupperware party and was delighted to be able to use my new Pick-A Deli, affectionately known to our kids as “the Pickle Dilly” (see photo) for the freshly washed and cut up carrot and celery sticks. Unlike the photo above, mine was a solid olive green color, like the lid shown.

So the 8 of us sit down to dinner and began the ritual of passing the food. There was the usual banter back and forth, “Please pass the salt.”, “Please pass the gravy (indeed, they were asking for MY gravy).”, etc. Most everything had been passed and we’d all settled into our eating and visiting when L. asked M. to “Please pass the celery.” M. grabbed the Pickle Dilly by the handle and lifted. The celery and carrots took flight as the lift up strainer indeed lifted up, leaving behind the actual container with water but bringing with it at least a half pound of cut up veggies, which were now all over the table and all over M. The kids, of course, thought it was hilarious! They were rolling! L. ,  B. and I were laughing so hard our faces ached! M. , covered in carrots and celery sticks, did not appear to be amused at that particular moment but he quickly saw the humor in the situation and joined the uproarious laughter.  

We picked up the mess and finished our meal, and a good time was had by all.

Somehow, every time we used the Pick-A-Deli  it managed to get set in front of M. But now he was a wiser M. He was a more cautious M. M.  was never again going to be fooled by the request to “Please pass the celery” .