Uh, wha? Say that again?

My very talented brother sent me an email titled Guess what I did?. If you have a younger brother as I do, this statement may bring back a primal fear; a certainty that the incident he is about describe involves a cat, super glue, and a skate board.

Oh, but wait... He's an adult now, so maybe just the cat and skate board. I opened the email, and this is what it said:

Mary,

Guess what? I don't know if I told you- but I put
in an application to be on the next Hell's
Kitchen... and ... I was picked for a casting
call... pretty cool, huh?

My brother Ben has been working in the food industry off and on for about 15 years or more, and has such amazing knowledge about food and food service that he often was promoted to a semi-managerial if not managerial position within 6 months of being hired. Not only that, this man know his way around a kitchen, and can whip a wonderfully delicious meal out of almost nothing.

His interest in food started at a very young age, and he and I would make odd concoctions with what ever we could find in the fridge for after school snacks. Many times we didn't have the staples such as milk, bread, and eggs; but when he had at least one of those there was no stopping us. We invented cream cheese and salsa sandwiches, grilled cheese and onion sandwiches cooked with Italian dressing instead of butter, and we liked to experiment with a variety of spices to liven up scrambled eggs. One weekend, I remember he made us apple pancakes. They were so good, and he was probably only 7 or 8.

He took classes himself, about 12 years ago when he was in the Navy, but actually has had no more formal training than that. With that knowledge, a friend of his invited him to to teach cooking classes at a local college. How cool is that?

Anyway, I know I am gushing... but my brother has an awesome opportunity here. Often in tough situations, he can see something humorous, and he loves to make people laugh. He and I always end up with stomach aches from laughing so hard, and usually I can hardly keep up with him. I think because of his personality, his wit , charm , and big brown eyes (sorry gals, he is taken!), he has a really good chance of getting on the show.

So... I was wondering if you guys wouldn't mind, send some good thoughts, vibes and prayers his way. This is a chance of a lifetime for him. OK, I'll stop gushing now. ;O)

As far as the title of this post concerning me... Anna had me in stitches last night. For some reason, Anna has developed this dislike for me washing her hair. It started about 17 months ago when John and I agreed that I would wash Em, and he could take care of Anna. Since then, she cries whenever I even mention it. Last night it was bath night, and John had to help a friend put together their new Mac. Anna refused to let me wash her hair, but finally relented when she realized daddy wasn't around to do it.

I took my time and was very careful about the hair business, and we made it through the whole ordeal without the shedding of tears.

Being very proud of myself, I said, "See! I think I did a really good job..." To which she replied, "Yeah, this time." Then she gives a subtle roll of the eyes (if there is such a thing).

A few minutes later, while scrubbing her feet, she told me that her kindergarten teacher gave her a test. She explained that Mrs. Thompson had her name the alphabet and give the phonetic sound for each letter.

"Mom, I think I really kicked butt. I only missed 2 letters! Mrs. Thompson said to Ms. Cook (the trainee) that I was probably ahead of the rest of the class!" Of course I barely heard the last part because I was mortified, I didn't know whether to laugh or chide her for doing- unfortunately- exactly what she has learned from me for the last 5 1/2 years, talking in slang.

Oh, yeah. Did I mention that Emma heard me call John DUDE? Now she walks around saying doooooooooo-duh. Priceless.

And although I know you may have trouble believing that an almost 37 year old, Mexican/Caucasian woman living in Iowa might occasionally include this in an everyday conversation, I am dreading the day that she she says to her teacher, "Fo' shizzle, my dizzle." It's an unfortunate inevitability, I'll let you know how it goes. :o\