Summer Vacation Ideas and Zombies

“Hey boys! Look at this! We can do a night tour of Alcatraz! The boat pulls up for the tour behind Alcatraz on the loading docks!”

Nine year-old, “Ummm, no.”
Twin 1 at 14 years-old, “No. Freaking. Way.”

Me, “It would be soooo cool!”

Other twin, “Are you out of your mind? You clearly don’t play the video games we play set in Alcatraz AT NIGHT.”

Nine year old, “If you buy me multiple guns and let me take them with me I might go. (Giggles)”.

Twin 1, “they wont help with the zombies much and they wont help AT ALL with the ghosts.”

Nine year-old, “Yeah, true dat. Let’s just skip Alcatraz. Didn’t you say Ghiradelli was in San Francisco too? We can just do chocolate instead.”

Wimpy kids.

What else should we include in our summer San Francisco/Yosemite trip?

Red Moon, of the Behind Kind

Sometimes you have to be really annoying to remind yourself why you married someone.
Here is what I learned last night…

If you are out picking up sticks, putting down some grass seed, fixing landscape lights that were beat up over winter and as the sun goes down, and because you have spring fever and you don’t want to go inside, you may find yourself working with a giant spotlight with various color beams and setting.

Then, when you are done and you are down a hill by the pond choking on your own saliva giggle laughing as you are shining a blinking red high intensity beam up at your bedroom window where your husband is in bed watching basketball, all lame like, and you are laughing outside so hard at yourself you are wheezing…

you will be mooned by your other half.


Red moon tonight folks

My red spotlight shone on my husbands bare white bottom.

Yes, he could be your doctor if your lucky.

The man is all business.

Funniest part was he walked out on the deck and said, “Did you see the moon?” I circled around craning my neck and said, “where is it tonight?”

He says, “Muppet” (his word of endearment for me) “My moon!”

And I fashion myself as being quick witted.


Hug Your Kids Long


While driving to our youngest’s bus stop I noticed a Dad who is always there with his two boys waiting in their car, wasn’t. This is how I gauge whether or not we missed the bus on its last stop.
I leave earlier or later depending on all the kids morning activities.
This is the happy bus stop as it is the “sleep in 15 minutes later” bus stop on Thursdays.
I don’t know the folks at this stop as it is out of my neighborhood. I do know the Dad is there everyday. He gives his boys not only hugs but long hugs. He pauses and draws them even closer and whispers into their ears something that is only intended for them and then a kiss. EVERY. DAY.
I marvel at the time he takes to say goodbye, while a busy highway packed with people going to work in one direction and people getting to school in the other, is paused for the flashing lights and the stop arm of the bus.
I had never seen a Mom there.
I assumed she worked early or late the night before or maybe there wasn’t a Mom around anymore, judging how much the Dad doted on them.
When I pulled in I said to my youngest, “I don’t think we missed the bus. Maybe she came early. The boys and their Dad aren’t there.”
My sweet nine year-old said, “Oh Mom, I forgot to tell you, their Mom died this week.”
Then it hit me.
The tears and crying.
These are sweet boys that would get out of their Dad’s car and talk to my boys and pet our dog.
Those sweet boys.
That father.
Their Mom must be the Mom that I didn’t know that I heard died of breast cancer this week. She had been fighting it for years. Probably had been fighting it all of these lovely boys memory.
Once I dropped off the older boys at their school I finally had myself pulled together when our sweet electrician Earlie called.
If you ever read my story about the “That Time I Almost Rendered Earlie Late” you know he is helping us out often.
He is working on the new property we bought making sure as I put it, “no little boys electrocute themselves turning on barn lights while they are covered in water and mud.”
Earlie is a very southern gentleman, sometimes I need him to repeat himself, and he told me he wouldn’t be out to the barn-house for a few days because of his Uncle’s passing.
He began to get all choked up when he said he was one of his best friends and that he and his dad were a constant in his life.
So we both cried on the phone.
I cried for little boys who lost their Mom and for good Dads. Earlie cried for what he told me was an Uncle who treated him like a son.
We all have so much to be thankful for, even in loss.
We do have each other and we have the thought and prayers of people we may not even know are praying and sending good thoughts our way. I am thankful that I have a painful reminder that life is sadly unexpected and to let my boys know that even if they lost a parent that we have set up arrangements and that they will be loved and taken care of.
Some mornings we bicker about homework or quiz each other on test topics. This morning we talked about our blessings and how we don’t know what someone is going through and we should always hug long and give kisses.

After I posted this I became aware of a Facebook page celebrating Melissa Clark and a way to donate to her young sons.
Melissa Clark Memorial Page


Abbie Gale
All That Makes You…

Is that a jar of mayonnaise on your head?

Ok, so it looks like this shutdown is about over.
Now onto my personal issues. My hair is so dry and fuzzy and winter isn’t even here yet. I am buying everything on Amazon that claims, “moisturizing.”
If you ring my doorbell during the “two day shipping” period I am likely to answer the door with a jar of Duke’s Mayonnaise on my head.


Because I have actually answered my door with the following…
-Rollers in
-Wax strip on my lip
-1/2 cup of olive oil in my hair
-Oatmeal and egg mask on my face
-Hair dye on
- Holding a jar of very realistic rubber rats, (hey, I was decorating and the poor cleaning lady pointing and yelling “Raton! Raton!” Still amazed she agreed to still come in.)

Frankly, it could be UPS ringing my doorbell. I wont know until I open it. I also like seeing people look a little uncomfortable at my expense. I have a little Amy Poelher in me.
It makes me chuckle.

Abbie Gale
Abbie Gale at

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PS If you are a publisher or producer email me and I will give you my phone number. If you are Child Protective Services email me and I will give you the phone number of someone I don’t like. If you want to come and help me fold clothes and put them away I will give you my address and a big kiss.
You might enjoy these stories and further proof the kids are all NUTS, (and they might get it from me.)

Fake Football Fan Here, It Is All About The Food For Me

My name is Abbie. I can’t tell you a thing about football but I know I have my boys as a captive audience for food and treats in our little nest for a few hours every Saturday in the fall.

What is wrong with me that by 9:00am today, a monday, I was making a grocery list after Googling what time the Michigan football game is on Saturday? No thoughts about who they are playing but I am so excited to make food?

I went to a cooking class at our club last week that was about twists on traditional tailgating food.

Here is brisket on a roll with broccoli slaw and topped with bleu cheese.

What about you, is it football, food or both? What do you love about fall?