Monday, April 21, 2008


Hello, Mr. F5 here. Since our primary author seems to have a case of writer's block (aka "a good nights sleep") I thought I would make a quick addition to the blogosphere by adding some of the original artwork creations of the eldest junior Mr. F5. Enjoy. Lithographs are available upon request.


Spiderman meets the aliens (aliens played by Sam and Nia)

"Pirate ship" (modern)

"Happy Aliens"

"Prisoners into outer space"

"A moment in the Loo"

"Thinking about Mom"

"Dinosaurs need hugs"

"Super space man blast off"

Sunday, April 06, 2008

My heart skips a beat

My big hunk of man, snoring on the couch? Of course I love him. This day and every day: that's the deal we struck nearly two decades ago.

But this guy? The guy wearing the fedora? Well, I might love him a little bit, too.

Jeff, darling: please, come back to Texas. We can enjoy a sumptuous picnic lunch in this adorable park I know. Just you, me and your mighty red pen.


Thursday, April 03, 2008


What makes a vacation so spot-on perfect that you're still glowing and yearning and yammering about it two weeks later?

Was it finding myself in a coordinate on the map that I'd only imagined before?

Did the anticipation make it that much sweeter?

Was it the brief walking tour of a foreign land, followed by the step back in time?

Or slipping the surly bonds of earth to temporarily overcome acrophobia?

Did it help that we landed in a spot that felt like our very own pied-a-terre?

Is it because we toured fabulous vineyards as VIPs because we were FOCs? (You know: Friends of Chuck. Oh, you don't know Chuck? You really should.)

Was it driving along winding roads that hugged lush green hills, with the wind in our hair?

Or could we have been anywhere in the world, really, as long as we were together?

To that end, maybe it was returning home to a trio of happy, healthy muppers, not one iota the worse for our absence, and realizing: we could totally do this again sometime! We need to do this again sometime. Once the grandparents recuperate, of course.

Was it any one of these things? Or the combination thereof?

The answer, of course, is yes. Yes, yes, yes. See for yourself, if you're so inclined.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

Playing the fool

I was sitting at the clean, industrial desk of a cubicle in a quiet office, my pen hovering over a to-do list.

I was thirty-one years old and drove a shiny black Jetta. Which on this evening, six years later, sounds absolutely precious, and a little exotic.

Almost a year after moving to Dallas, I had a public-relations job that I mostly loved, and I happily shared a wee house with one tall, handsome husband and one sweet, grizzled dog.

On sunny afternoons, of which there were many, we'd stroll down the street to our favorite pub, grab a seat on the patio, and have a few beers. We'd just, you know, hang out.

On this late Monday afternoon, I still had a few hours of work ahead of me, even though most of my cubiclemates had already gone home.

I consulted my to-do list. An interview to transcribe, an article to write, a deadline ahead. Check, check, check.

Oh, and note to self: on the way home, stop by Walgreens for tampons and condoms.

Huh, muttered I, to self. Do I need to go the bathroom again? What's this: my tenth trip down the hall today? At least? This, coming from the girl with the iron-clad bladder?

And whoo boy, am I tired. Did I really fall asleep in mid-sentence with Trey's mom the other day? And then sleep, undisturbed, for two hours? Well, it was a pretty big lunch... and it is, in fact, an incredibly comfortable chair.

Wonder if I'm coming down with something. Oh, man: I'll bet I'm coming down with something. Perfect. That's just perfect.

What the heck is wrong with me lately? My moods are all over the place. Just last week, when Sarah was in town, I was throwing a tantrum about something or other, and she spat in exasperation:

"What the heck is wrong with you lately? Are you pregnant or something?"

Crazy. I mean, yes, she's my sister, but honestly, sometimes she just...

Oh, shit. OH, shit.

No. No way. Can't be. Lesse: last period here, anniversary there...

And in that moment (pen hovering, office quiet, desk clean), a light bulb clicked on over my head, flickered for a second, then began to hum.

My bubble of panic drowned in a sea of barely guarded, giddy anticipation, with "what ifs" bobbing up all around me, and a ridiculous, delicious grin on my face.

And a few minutes later, when I screeched into the Walgreens parking lot in my shiny black Jetta, I bypassed the tampons and condoms, and headed for the pregnancy tests instead.

It was the best April Fool's Day ever.