Author Archives: kzmclain

Thursday Thoughts: Heading to Nogales

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Despite all the talk of border fences, drug cartels,  and gang warfare, Bill and I decided our adventure to Tombstone, AZ, (about which I will write next week) warranted a stop in Old Mexico — a mere hour’s drive away — to check out, well, drugs.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. We weren’t interested in heroin or cocaine. But we had heard how easy and inexpensive  — and how perfectly legal — it was to get prescriptions from the Mexican border towns. We thought we would check out the cost of some of our various and sundry medications. Money doesn’t grow on trees you know.

I won’t lie. I was substantially uneasy as we made the absolutely beautiful drive down to Nogales, AZ, where we planned on parking our car and walking across the border into Nogales, Mexico. We had talked to people who did exactly that on a routine basis, and were told it couldn’t be simpler.

We found a parking lot in Nogales, AZ, and began the very short walk across the much- talked-about border, through the opening in the enormous metal border wall. We were accompanied not by villains and thugs, but by other senior citizens on the same mission as we. It was quite amusing, actually.

In about a minute, Bill told me we were in Mexico. No one had said a word to us, so I was taken by surprise. I don’t know what I was expecting, really. A strip search? A shake down? A mariachi band? What we got instead was an immediate barrage of Mexican businessmen and women inviting us to buy buy buy drugs from their pharmacy. We stopped at literally the first pharmacy in Mexico, learned that they didn’t carry the only one of Bill’s medications that is expensive, and our shopping was complete.

 

Oh, being in Mexico and all, we did walk through some of the shops selling cigars that may or may not have been Cuban, tried on “Ray Ban” sunglasses that fit crookedly on our noses, and watched the hustle bustle of the busy city. And then we headed to cross the border back into the United States, uncertain of what to expect.

At some point I realized that I had forgotten to take my morning pills which I had stuck in my pocket. I was ridiculously convinced I would end up in a Mexican prison for trying to sneak in a glucosamine and calcium tablet, and a probiotic. I wasn’t.

In fact, though it’s true that we at least had to show a border guard our passports (which we didn’t have to do going into Mexico), he barely looked at them and seemed more interested in what he was going to eat for lunch. While there might be a demographic that incites interest in border guards, apparently this isn’t it….

Bill and I spent a nice afternoon at Big Nose Kate’s Saloon in Tombstone, AZ.

And that’s my Thursday thought for today. Adios.

This post linked to Grand Social.

Mom, Did You….Part 2

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I am continuing contemplating things I wish I would have asked my mother. The moral of this (and yesterday’s) blog is: CHILDREN, ASK YOUR PARENTS QUESTIONS NOW.

What was your worst fail at cooking?

My mother was a splendid cook. She told us many times that when she met my dad, she couldn’t cook at all. She hadn’t had the opportunity to live alone at that point (at least I don’t think so, but, of course, I never asked), so perhaps she had never cooked. She said that she learned to cook primarily from Grammie (my dad’s mother), who must have taught her well. Nevertheless, I’m sure that somewhere along the line (likely early in their marriage) there was a food fail. It happens to all of us. Mine was early in my first marriage when then-husband David and I invited my brother David and his wife to dinner. I can’t remember what I made, but what I do remember is that it involved rice. You know, RICE, that grain that you put in boiling water, let it cook for 20 minutes, and then fluff it up and serve. Except mine turned into wallpaper paste. I don’t know where I went wrong. Cooked too long? Too little water? Too much water? Doesn’t matter. My brother has only recently stopped poking fun at me for a meal I made 40 years ago. But my story isn’t as bad as that of an acquaintance from my days when I worked hard for a living. She was an older woman who was raised in an Irish Catholic household, and married an Italian. She once told me the first time she made her Italian husband spaghetti, she cooked the pasta and poured Campbell’s Tomato Soup over it, set it down in front of her husband and called it spaghetti with red sauce. I wonder what Mom would consider her worst meal.

Was Dad romantic?

Now this is a question I would ask my siblings to weigh in on. I can’t decide. I don’t think I ever saw my dad bring her flowers or do anything typically romantic. I don’t remember him calling her anything but Marg. Still, even up until she died, they would hold hands. Perhaps the bigger question is would she even have wanted him to be romantic. Hmmmmm.

Did you like Dean Martin?

Now this question is to address a disagreement that my sister Jen and I have had for years. She believes Mom loathed Dean Martin. I believe Mom liked Dean Martin. When we were young, Mom always had her radio turned on to K-F-A-B……in O-Ma-Ha! Trust me, the jingle is in my mind. Anyway, I remember her happily listening to songs such as Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime, and You’re Nobody ‘Til Somebody Loves You. Further, I know she and Dad watched the Dean Martin variety show, and while she did get somewhat disgusted at his apparent drunkenness on stage, I still believe she liked him. So, Jen: Mom knows and God knows.

In yesterday’s blog, I mentioned that there are probably questions I would like to ask her that she would never in a million years answer, both out of a sense of privacy and a sense of embarrassment. I once asked her if there was a reason that we children were so far apart in age, i.e., miscarriage and/or birth control. O. M. G. She never answered the question, and likely never quite forgave me for asking. She probably still held a bit of a grudge from the whole poster-paper-causing-accident thingy, about which I spoke yesterday.

Nevertheless, here are a couple of questions that she probably wouldn’t answer….

If your fourth hadn’t been a boy, would you have tried again?

Mom would have considered that to be none of my business, which, of course, is absolutely true. It so happens that Mom and Dad had three daughters before they had a son. They loved all of their children, but there’s nothing like a son to a dad. But something tells me that even had David been a girl, he would have been the last child. I think four kids were enough for Mom and Dad.

And, finally….

What was your biggest regret?

By asking this question, I’m not implying that I think she had regrets. I doubt she had many. But we all have some. I wonder what she would have done differently had she had a chance. Now I’ll never know.

KIDS, ASK THOSE QUESTIONS NOW.

Mom, Did You…..

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Though I lived at home until I left for college at age 18, and though I was a bona fide mama’s girl until, well, I guess I still am, there are so many things I don’t know about her. Big questions that were left unasked for several reasons.

First, I thought she would live forever (despite the fact that she was diagnosed with a fatal disease in her mid-50s). Second, I was busy with my own life. After all, when you’re in high school and college, you don’t really care about anyone’s life but your own.  After graduating from college I was oh-so-busy getting married, having a child, getting divorced, getting married again, working full time, going to graduate school. Busy, busy, busy, and no time to ask Mom questions. Third, Mom was a extremely private person and I’m not sure how many of my questions she would have been comfortable answering. I think Dad would have been a bit more forthright but – you guessed it – I didn’t ask him many questions either.

For the past couple of weeks I have been jotting down questions that I wish I had asked my mother. My siblings might know the answer to some of these questions. Jen knows maybe the most about Mom, perhaps because Mom had more time to devote to her after half her kids were gone.

Anyway, here are a few of the things I wish I had asked my mother while she was still living….

When you first met Dad, did you think he was handsome?

I’m pretty sure I know the answer to that question, because look at this……

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Hunk City, right? Who wouldn’t think he was handsome? However, the urban legend surrounding the meeting of my mom and dad is that he spotted her while she was working at Monkey Wards in the shoe department, and immediately began hounding her for a date. And, much like her second-eldest child (that would be me), the more he hounded, the more she was determined to not have a thing to do with him. She eventually gave in, because (must I remind you?)…..

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Despite her stubbornness, when she would go home at night, did she think about him and about just how gorgeous he was?

What did you think of Grammie the first time you met her?

On numerous occasions, I have mentioned the kindness, good humor, gentle nature of my paternal grandmother. She was beloved by everyone who met her. I assume that included my mother, who, I know for certain, loved Grammie dearly until the day she went to heaven. But what was it like to meet her and my stern grandfather for the first time? It’s possible she already knew them since they owned a business in Columbus, and it’s a small town. But we all know just how scary it is to meet your potential in-laws for the first time. I wonder what they thought about each other after that first meeting.

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What did you want to be when you grew up?

I don’t know if girls thought about such things in the early part of the 20th century. Maybe they all assumed that they would be wives and mothers, and there were no other options to consider. But my mom was a very smart woman. So she was probably a very smart girl. I wonder if she ever thought, “Could I be a teacher (or a bookkeeper or a librarian or the owner of a dress store) when I grow up?”

Did you think you were pretty?

She was very pretty, indeed. Beautiful, in fact. I’m emphasizing this in large part because people say I look like her so, you know…. But we all know from personal experience (especially we of the female gender) that sometimes we simply are dissatisfied about the way we look…..

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Did you wish your hair was blonder? Darker? Did you think you were too fat? Too skinny? Or did you look at yourself in a mirror and – with a confidence that you frankly didn’t pass on to your daughters – think, “I am really very pretty.”? Which she was.

Who taught you to drive?

This is not world-changing information, but I wonder who taught my mom to drive a car. She grew up in Cedar Rapids, NE, which had a whopping 743 residents in 1930 and has subsequently diminished to somewhere in the neighborhood of 400 residents. She was the youngest of 12 kids and by time she was driving age, most of her siblings were grown and married. Did her dad take her out in some sort of old truck and teach her to drive on the back roads of Boone County? Or did one of her older brothers or sisters teach her to drive? I wonder how old she was. As far as I can remember, she was a good driver. Well, there was that one time when she was giving teen-aged Kris a ride up to school, armed with a roll of blank newspaper which would subsequently be used to make posters for the next day’s pep rally. Go Shamrocks! Unfortunately, as she was backing up the car, the heavy paper roll came out of my hands and jammed onto her accelerator and beneath the brake, causing her to back up at somewhere in the neighborhood of 200 miles an hour only to be stopped by the electric pole into which we ran, resulting in the electricity going out all over the neighborhood. That mishap was certainly not her fault, and let’s just say I was not her favorite child that particular day.

And on that note, I’m going to stop and continue my pondering tomorrow…..

Heads or Tails

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As the temperatures hovered dangerously close to 80 degrees these past few days in AZ, you would think I would be focusing on grilling or making fancy salads. Nope. Oddly, braising is what sounds good. Maybe it’s a fortuitous that St. Patrick’s Day is on the horizon as I can satisfy some of my braising needs by cooking a corned beef.

My mother was a traditional cook, at least during the years when I was growing up, and she did a lot of braising. I remember eating beef pot roasts and pork roasts and spare ribs that she would cook slowly in the oven until they were tender. I remember beef stews and green beans made with ham hocks and vegetable soups made with beef shanks.

But what I was recalling as of late was a stew that she made occasionally that featured oxtails. Little pieces of beef that came – not shockingly – from the tails of a cow. I’m guessing probably not necessarily an ox, but at least some sort of beef. Oxtails probably stemmed from the mentality that was common among people who grow up on farms: you don’t waste any part of the animal.

Mom didn’t necessarily take this philosophy to heart, as I don’t remember her ever serving us, well, heart. At least not beef heart. I remember battling my brother and sisters for the chicken heart, that teeny-tiny, chewy organ that comes in the little sack that frequently is shoved inside a chicken, along with a liver or two, a few gizzards, and the neck. Since chickens, as most animals, only have one heart (earthworms have five hearts, but I wouldn’t want to eat a single one of them), it was a valuable commodity. Livers were first runner up, and we happily gave Dad the gizzards.

I don’t have my mom’s recipe for Oxtail Stew, but I sure remember the meal. I recall that they varied in size but I always seemed to get the small ones. But mostly I remember that they were extremely slippery. I loved them. I joyfully picked up the scalding little devils with my fingers and gnawed until I got most of the meat, not necessarily an easy task, but I have always been good at getting meat from a bone. I think I was a hyena in a former life.

I decided to make Oxtail Stew.

Since I didn’t have my mother’s recipe, I did what any normal 21st century cook would do: I went to Pinterest.  There, I found a yummy-sounding recipe for oxtail stew cooked in a slow cooker. That sounded spot-on to me, so I invited my brother Dave and my sister Bec to dinner where we could eat with our fingers and reminisce about Mom. I warned Bill (who had never eaten oxtails) that it was likely that he was going to have to swallow his pride and eat with his fingers, something he is loath to do unless it’s a pizza.

But first I needed to find oxtails. None at Basha’s. None at Fry’s. AJ’s Fine Foods took 15 rings before they answered the telephone and then, upon my request for their meat department, sent me to a black hole which produced no meat department. Cross them off my list, then and forever, no matter how fine their food is.

However, when you’re on the hunt for any unusual cut of meat or any unfamiliar vegetable, your best bet is to hit the Mexican markets and/or the Asian markets. Bill and I set off on our adventure, where our intent was to hit the Mexican market first and if that produced no results, go a bit further into the Asian part of Mesa. We lucked out on our first try and found delicious-looking oxtails at Los Altos Ranch Market…..

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Those oxtails eventually became this……

oxtails

After eight hours in a slow cooker, the meat was indescribably tender and tasty, and the broth was rich and packed with flavor. I served the stew over mashed potatoes, and there was none left at the end of the meal. My assessment? I was sad that they were so tender that they didn’t provide my desire for slipperiness. However, my brother (looking carefully around for Mom’s ghost bearing some sort of weapon) said he thought mine were better than Mom’s. And that’s all I’ll say about that.

Here’s the recipe…..

Slow Cooker Oxtail Stew

Ingredients
2 – 3 lbs. oxtails
2 T. flour, seasoned with salt and pepper to taste
8 slices of bacon, cooked and crumbled
1 large onion, chopped
2 sticks of celery, chopped
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
½ lb. mushrooms, cleaned and cut in half
½ c. red wine
1-1/2 c. beef broth or stock
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs fresh thyme
1 T. tomato paste

Process
Cook bacon in large skillet until crisp. Remove to a plate, and crumble.

Coat oxtails in the seasoned flour, and cook in the bacon grease until brown on all sides. Cook only a few at a time to aid in browning.

Place vegetables, wine, stock, bay leaf, thyme, and tomato paste into slow-cooker. Add the bacon and the oxtails to the vegetables.  Cover with lid and cook for 8 hours or until oxtails are tender.

Serve with mashed potatoes, rice, or noodles.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

Friday Book Whimsy: The Tumbling Turner Sisters

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searchHow can you not want to read a book with a title like The Tumbling Turner Sisters? I fully admit that I was drawn to Juliette Fay’s historical novel simply by its title, alliteration included. The book didn’t disappoint. It was a sweet story from beginning to end.

I know little about vaudeville, and frankly, never really considered it at all. After reading this book, however, I know a bit more and found that I learned about history and how people lived during vaudeville’s heyday via the novel.

The story, which commences in 1919, begins when Mr. Turner gets in a bar fight and loses the use of his hand, and therefore, his job. The family was going to be destitute until Mrs. Turner decides that vaudeville would be the perfect way to bring in income and make her life more interesting to boot. At her urging, her four daughters – three teenagers and her eldest whose husband dies of Spanish flu on his way home from serving in World War I — begin teaching themselves to become acrobats – tumblers, really. Once they have trained themselves sufficiently, they find a manager and begin to tour in the vaudeville circuit, primarily in the New York area.

The story is told in two voices – Gert’s and Winnie’s, two of the teenagers. Gert is independent and restless, happy to be an entertainer. Winnie tumbles because it’s what she must do for the family, but would rather have stayed in high school and then attended college. What I really liked about the author is that even if the reader didn’t know who was narrating by the chapter title, we would be able to tell. The voices are that unique.

The story is sweet and entertaining. Fictional characters mix with real-life characters (such as Archie Leach, who was an acrobat in vaudeville before becoming Cary Grant). Each chapter begins with an actual quote from someone who had begun his or her career in vaudeville. Some of the quotes made me laugh out loud.

The characters are likable and the plot is interesting. Lessons are taught without being preachy. The book was fun and entertaining. I will definitely read more by the author, of whom I had never heard prior to stumbling onto the novel.

It would be a great book club read.

Here is a link to the book.

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Thursday Thoughts

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Early Birds
Our gang visiting from Denver left early yesterday morning, and when I say early, I mean EARLY. Their flight took off at 5:30 a.m. They spent the night before in a hotel near the airport, and had the alarm set early enough to catch a 4 o’clock shuttle. They landed safely. The plan, then, was that Dave would catch a different plane to take him to Las Vegas for a (cough) work meeting. The four kids would run home and change clothes and grab lunches and backpacks and go to school. What’s more, Addie has one of the leading roles in her school musical playing last night. I wasn’t a bit concerned that she would be too tired to remember her lines, because I’m confident she will not only remember HER lines, but will also remember EVERYONE ELSE’S lines. I was mostly concerned that her singing voice would be croaky from exhaustion. As of the time I wrote this post, I haven’t heard how she did.

I Can’t Make Up My Mind
One of the places we took our family to eat is Oregano’s, because it’s one of our favorite restaurants.  We had a wonderful time and enjoyed the pizza and other Italian goodies very much. The food server did her duty, and told us about the dessert offerings, which are a variety of what they used to call pazookies, but for some sort of trademark reason, had to change the name to pizza cookies. These are partially unbaked cookies, served warm with ice cream. I began playing a game with Addie, and wasn’t paying attention, and when I looked up, this happened……

trio-of-pazookies

Buzzkill
Dagny loves all animals, but especially is intrigued and drawn to insects. From the time she was a little girl, she has said she wanted to be an entymologist. She will literally pick up an insect that’s made its way into the house and carry it carefully in her cupped hand to the outdoors and to safety. She was horrified last summer to see me step forcefully on a wasp that had landed on our patio. A wasp. But apparently no one told the bee about Dagny’s love of insects, because at the baseball game on Tuesday, Dagny went to pull her hair back from her face and got in the way of a bee that was flying near her face. The bee stung her, and Dagny’s heart was broken. It hurt, darn it. The nerve……

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Smudges
Bill and I started out our Ash Wednesday (and the entire season of Lent) by attending Mass, which included the distribution of ashes. Catholics love Ash Wednesday. Oh, I don’t know if they particularly like the part about not eating meat and fasting, but they love getting those ashes. So the church was crowded. Afterwards, Bill and I were heading straight to Chandler to visit my sister-in-law who is in the hospital following an accident at work, and had the whole should-we-leave-them-on-or-take-them-off discussion regarding the ashes. Bill is in the remove-the-ashes camp, as the Ash Wednesday gospel clearly tells us not to be like the hypocrites and to pray and fast and do penance quietly. I, on the other hand, always keep my ashes on because, well, the nuns told us to. We landed on the remove-the-ashes side, however, as we didn’t think everyone in the hospital needed to be staring at us. After our visit, we went for lunch where I forgot it was a day of fasting from meat and ordered a meat-laden salad. My penance for yesterday was picking meat out of an antipasto salad.

Ciao.

No Rest for the Wicked and the Righteous Don’t Need It

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What has eight legs, four heads, eats twice its weight in food, moves nonstop, and cries or laughs in the blink of an eye? The answer? Four visiting grandkids….

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On top of Microwave Mountain, not too far from our house. Addie is in back and Maggie, Dagny and Alastair are front and center.

Their parents, of course, were also visiting, and they each have a head and legs. They, however, aren’t always hungry and sit still once in a while.

Alas, they have returned to Denver, and now it will take a bit of getting used to the quiet and inaction of our real lives. If history is reliable, I will likely find a random sock or a drawing or two for the next few days, which will make me smile and be sad, all at the same time.

It was an action-packed few days that included three Cubs spring training games, two hikes, some geocaching, pizza, hamburgers, Italian beef sandwiches, a big box of donuts, and lots of soda pop, something that is quite restricted when they are NOT on vacation…..

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And speaking of things that DON’T happen when they’re not on vacation…..

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Dagny, with a donut almost as big as she!

The weather wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for, with temperatures that didn’t reach the high 60s. There was mostly sunshine, however, and the cooler temps didn’t stop the kids from swimming in their hotel pool. They are about the heartiest kids I’ve ever known. Monday night in particular, they left our house when it was dark and probably in the 50s, and yet they swam when they got back to the hotel. Jeez!….

Dagny, Addie, and Maggie Faith enjoy the pool, despite the chilly temps.

Dagny, Addie, and Maggie Faith enjoy the pool, despite the chilly temps.

I love to geocache, and I don’t often have the opportunity. I can do it alone, but it’s not that much fun without a partner. It’s much nicer to have four enthusiastic fellow hunters. It so happened that we went four finds for four searches, and EACH ONE OF THE KIDS FOUND A GEOCACHE! Yay.

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Maggie found a very tricky geocache in which the little container was drilled into a rock!

Maggie found a very tricky geocache in which the little container was drilled into a rock!

When there are four of you, it is nice to find a little peace and quiet for yourself, even if it makes your grandfather a bit nervous….

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Maggie sat on the fence with a rubber cricket toy she stumbled upon while geocaching and which she named Hank, and enjoyed the quiet and the view. A bit more daring, Dagny traversed the entire top of the fence on foot. Many times.

It was a wonderful visit, and came right about the time that I was starting to get very homesick for grandkids. Now they go back to their busy lives, while Bill and I return to our quiet lives.

Family Cooking Ties Redux

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This blog post originally ran after Easter dinner last March. I love to read about the cooking skills of my nieces and nephews and our own son…..

IMG_0069“Do you think you will use that ham bone or throw it away?” asked my nephew Erik as he got ready to leave on Easter Sunday. I knew right away why he was asking.

I assured him that the ham bone would be put to good use. But if I wasn’t going to use it, he wanted it.

“What would you make with it?” I asked him.

He didn’t have a plan, but he knew there were a lot of options. He also knew that a good cook would never let something as delicious as a ham bone with a lot of meat still clinging stubbornly to it go to waste.

This past Thanksgiving, Court asked Jll a similar question. What are planning to do with the turkey carcass? Jll assured him she didn’t really have a plan, and as she has four kids Court Closeupand was entertaining Heather and Lauren and the two boys, she was desperate for refrigerator space.

“Take it,” she said with obvious relief.

Like, Erik, Court wasn’t sure what he would make, but knew a turkey carcass would make something good. I think that carcass turned into turkey noodle soup if I’m not mistaken. And it undoubtedly was good because everything tastes better if there’s bones involved.

I have said on numerous occasions that my mother was a very good cook. Though I never asked her, I presume she liked to cook, because I don’t think you can be a good cook if you heartily dislike it. Given all of that, I often think how happy it must make her up in heaven to see how so many of her grandkids love to cook – and do a bang-up job of it.

Christopher and porkNot only are they good cooks, but they appreciate the art of cooking and the gift of good food. Recently, when Jen was here, we had the family over for carne asada. Dave’s son Christopher had smoked a pork butt the day before, and had some left over. He brought it along, knowing full well that somehow that smoked pork would be eaten. It was. I put it in a fry pan, crisped up the bottom, and it became smoked carnitas. In addition to pork butt, he smokes a delicious brat. My mouth is watering.

Jen’s son BJ is happiest if he can throw a piece of meat that he has marinated for a few hours onto the grill. He makes up his own marinade using whatever he thinks sounds good. I would never be able to do that. I require a recipe. Jen sent him home with leftover prime rib from their Easter dinner. He sautéed onion, garlic, mushrooms and a jalapeno in some olive oil, then added the meat to warm up. He made it all into a sandwich.

Good cooking isn’t limited to the men of our family. Mom would have loved seeing Jensen17 (2)Maggie in the kitchen. I have watched Maggie mature into an absolutely splendid cook in the years since she’s been married. She is far removed from her post-college days when she would be cooking something in a fry pan and call her mother in desperation as smoke was rising from the pan. Jen could hear even over the phone that the meat was frying at too hot a temperature. “Turn down the temperature!” she would firmly instruct Maggie. “It’s cooking too fast.

It’s nice to see our love for cooking being passed down to our kids and even our grandkids.

I used up my ham bone last night preparing green beans and ham. Here is my mother’s recipe for Green Beans and Ham, in the exact words from her recipe card…..

Green Beans and Ham or Bacon
Sauté chopped onion in margarine, add flour and brown slightly. Add hot water and boil a few minutes. Prepare frozen green beans (or fresh beans). Pour the onion mixture into the beans, add ham (or chunk bacon cut in small pieces). Simmer about 30 minutes. Add water, if needed. Add peeled potatoes and continue cooking until potatoes are done.

Nana’s Notes: I sauté in butter rather than margarine. Rather than water, I use chicken or vegetable broth. Nowadays you can get fresh green beans anytime, so I never use frozen, only fresh. When I was small, green beans were only available in the summer. Mom would buy them from a farmer. I carefully cleaned them, always on the lookout for a worm!  I like to use new red potatoes or new yellow potatoes.

Words of Wisdom, Redux

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Because I have family visiting, I am reprinting some of my favorite posts for the next couple of days. 

I came across this list of advice to remember on Pinterest, so unfortunately I am unable to give credit. It was pinned from a website called lolsnaps.com. These words of wisdom originate from someone’s high school yearbook, so many are directly apropos to high school kids. Still, I think ALL of them are important to remember as we go through life. I’m guessing the list was constructed by a teacher or a bunch of teachers, and are in no particular order. I absolutely LOVE this list and I think all of you will agree…..

  1. There are plenty of ways to enter a pool. The stairs is not one of them.
  2. Never cancel dinner plans by text message.
  3. Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.
  4. If a street performer makes you stop walking, you owe him a buck.
  5. Always use “we” when referring to your home team or your government.
  6. When entrusted with a secret, keep it.
  7. Don’t underestimate free throws in a game of HORSE.
  8. Just because you can doesn’t mean you should.
  9. Don’t dumb it down.
  10. You only get one chance to notice a new haircut.
  11. If you’re staying more than one night, unpack.
  12. Never park in front of a bar.
  13. Expect the seat in front of you to recline. Prepare accordingly.
  14. Keep a picture of your first fish, first car, and first girl/boyfriend.
  15. Hold your heroes to a high standard.
  16. A suntan is earned, not bought.
  17. Never lie to your doctor.
  18. All guns are loaded.
  19. Don’t mention sunburns. Believe me, they know.
  20. The best way to show thanks is to wear it. Even if it’s only once.
  21. Take a vacation of your cell phone, internet, and TV once a year.
  22. Don’t fill up on bread, no matter how good.
  23. A handshake beats an autograph.
  24. Don’t linger in the doorway. In or out.
  25. If you choose to go in drag, don’t sell yourself short.
  26. If you want to know what makes you unique, sit for a caricature.
  27. Never get your hair cut the day of a special event.
  28. Be mindful of what comes between you and the earth. Always buy good shoes, tires, and sheets.
  29. Never eat lunch at your desk if you can avoid it.
  30. When you’re with new friends, don’t just talk about old friends.
  31. Eat lunch with the new kids.
  32. When traveling, keep your wits about you.
  33. It’s never too late for an apology.
  34. Don’t pose with booze.
  35. If you have the right of way, TAKE IT.
  36. You don’t get to choose your own nickname.
  37. When you marry someone, remember you marry their entire family.
  38. Never push someone off a dock.
  39. Under no circumstances should you ask a woman if she is pregnant.
  40. It’s not enough to be proud of your ancestry; live up to it.
  41. Don’t make a scene.
  42. When giving a thank you speech, short and sweet is best.
  43. Know when to ignore the camera.
  44. Never gloat.
  45. Invest in great luggage.
  46. Make time for your mom on your birthday. It’s her special day too.
  47. When opening presents, no one likes a good guesser.
  48. Sympathy is a crutch; never fake a limp.
  49. Give credit. Take blame.
  50. Suck it up every now and again.
  51. Never be the last one in the pool.
  52. Don’t stare.
  53. Address everyone that carries a firearm professionally.
  54. Stand up to bullies. You’ll only have to do it once.
  55. If you’ve made your point, stop talking.
  56. Admit it when you’re wrong.
  57. If you offer to help, don’t quit until the job is done.
  58. Look people in the eye when you thank them.
  59. Thank the bus driver.
  60. Never answer the phone at the dinner table.
  61. Forgive yourself for your mistakes.
  62. Know at least one good joke.
  63. Don’t boo. Even the ref is somebody’s son or daughter.
  64. Know how to cook one good meal.
  65. Learn to drive a stick shift.
  66. Be cool to younger kids. Reputations are built over a lifetime.
  67. It’s okay to go to the movies by yourself.
  68. Dance with your mother/father.
  69. Don’t lose your cool. Especially at work.
  70. Always thank the host.
  71. If you don’t understand, ask before it’s too late.
  72. Know the size of your boyfriend/girlfriend’s clothes.
  73. There is nothing wrong with a plain t-shirt.
  74. Be a good listener. Don’t just take your turn to talk.
  75. Keep your word.
  76. In college, always sit in the front. You’ll stand out immediately. Come grade time, it might come in handy.
  77. Carry your mother’s bags. She carried you for nine months.
  78. Be patient with airport security. They are just doing their job.
  79. Don’t be the talker in a movie.
  80. The opposite sex likes people who shower.
  81. You are what you do, not what you say.
  82. Learn to change a tire.
  83. Be kind. Everyone has a hard fight ahead of them.
  84. An hour with grandparents is time well spent. Ask for advice when you need it.
  85. Don’t litter.
  86. If you have a sister, get to know her friends. Your opinion is important.
  87. You won’t always be the strongest or the fastest. But you can be the toughest.
  88. Never call someone before 9 a.m. or after 9 p.m.
  89. Buy the orange properties in Monopoly.
  90. Make the little things count.
  91. Always wear a bra at work.
  92. There is a fine line between looking sultry and slutty. Find it.
  93. You’re never too old to need your mom.
  94. Ladies, if you make the decision to wear heels on the first date, commit to keeping them on and keeping your trap shut about how much your feet hurt.
  95. Know the words to your national anthem.
  96. Your dance moves might not be the best, but I promise making a fool of yourself is more fun than sitting on the bench alone.
  97. Smile at strangers.
  98. Make goals.
  99. Being old is not dictated by your bedtime.
  100. If you have to fight, punch first and punch hard.