Bragging Rights

I'm going to use this weeks' Thursday 13 to brag about my dad a little. He has been into photography for years and has some of the best work I've seen. I constantly compare his work to the photographs I see in little art galleries and boutiques and his is always at least equal to or far better. He rarely does any editing on his photos and doesn't use a lot of the color filters and such that a lot of people use. He is very skilled at knowing how to compose a photograph and how to use his camera. He puts in the time and effort it takes to be great and it definitely shows.

I've chosen 13 of his photographs that are my favorites. This was incredibly hard to do. Almost impossible. See what I mean by looking through his stuff over on Flickr (or you can click on "Dad's Pictures" on my Blogroll)----->

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See more Thursday 13 participants or try it yourself!

The Helper

When I was a kid, spanking wasn't the taboo it is today. It was common practice. Every family had their favorite spanking tool. There's Dad's leather belt, a 'switch' off the old willow tree out back, Mom's wooden spoon or my family's choice... The Helper.

The Helper usually came out when it was time to clean up the pig sties we called bedrooms. When we actually got around to cleaning our rooms, we'd already been told a hundred times to do it and had literally been chased up there to get it done. I don't remember complaining much but my little sister Annie could never do the job without throwing a fit. She'd stomp around and cry about how much she hated it while slowly shuffling things around.

After listening to the commotion for a minute or two, my dad would come up the stairs and say, "Do you want The Helper to help you? I think you need The Helper." Then he'd walk over to the closet and pull out a wire hanger. This immediately prompted Annie to yell "I'm cleaning! I'm cleaning!" and hustle around trying to find a spot for a dirty sock held in one hand while covering her butt with the other. This wouldn't have affected me at all except for the fact that my room was right next to hers. Which meant that The Helper always had to stop and pay a visit to me too. How thoughtful!

The Helper was more of a scare tactic really. It never left bruises or even hurt much, it was just something to get our attention. A quick little tap on the butt and we were working double time.

Now that I think about it, I don't have any wire hangers around here. Maybe I should take those clothes to the dry cleaners so I can get a few. You never know when The Helper will come in handy. Hey! Who was supposed to clean up this mess?! {sound of a whip cracking}

Nicknames

I was almost shocked at myself the other day when I realized I'd never done a post about nicknames. More specifically the nicknames my sisters and I had as kids. Which isn't to say that those nicknames aren't in use today, because they are.

Dad was the nickname giver in our house. I think that's the case in a lot of families. Maybe it's because the moms are the ones that usually pick out the real names, so the dads feel like they need to put in their two cents. In any case, it seems ironic that a child is rarely called by his real name... the one that was agonized over and had great thought put into it... he's usually called some silly endearing name that gets picked up on a whim or circumstance. Unless he's in big trouble.

We all had nicknames growing up, but for some reason, Corinne's nickname didn't stick as well. Her name was 'Oobie-Doo' (pronounced like Scoobie Doo). Don't ask where any of these names came from. I'm not sure anyone really knows other than they jumped out of the mind of my dad somehow. I think Corinne stopped being called Oobie-Doo early on, maybe around the time she was 8 years old.

Annie and I are still called by our nicknames to this day, at least by my dad. And he's pretty much the only one who can get away with it. It's just creepy and/or weird if anyone else does it. Our nicknames have progressed a little through the years as is often the case. Annie started out as 'Budsly'. You may notice she uses this as her blogger moniker and as part of her email address. She was most often called 'Buds' for short. I've heard my dad call her Budsly P. Muldoonskie. It's the long version of her name. But that's nothing compared to my name...

Mrs. B.T. Boofus McDoodle III. That's it. That's my full nickname. I went by Boofus for a little while. My dad tells a story of a time he was in the grocery store with me and said "Hey Boofus, get over here!" and some lady looked at him with a horrified expression on her face. It could be worse. Look at all those celebrities and the dumb names they give their kids. At least Boofus is relatively easy to spell.

After Boofus, I was usually called 'Boof' or 'Boofy'. Today I mainly get Boof. 'Boofy' is a little too childish. Don't you think? 'Boof' is definitely more sophisticated and practically screams 'success' and 'power.' But only when my dad says it. So don't get any ideas.

April Fools Forever

My whole childhood was a perpetual April Fools Day. With my dad around, we were never safe.

Lesson #1: Remember that anything you do to Dad will be returned 10 fold.

It's hard to imagine, but at one time none of the adorable Holley girls were around. It was just the newlywed couple... Fred and Denise. My mother (still apparently naive about my dad's capabilities) decided it would be fun to play a joke on my dad on their very first April Fools Day together (how sweet!). So, while my dad was at work, she went around the house and unscrewed all the light bulbs. Man she'd gotten him good! Or did she?

In the middle of the night by mom got up to use the bathroom. When she went to turn on the light, she remembered her light bulb trick and thus proceeded in the dark to take care of her business. My dad has always been a light sleeper and I'm sure he was lying in bed wide awake just seconds later when he heard, "Oh s*#@!"

To get back at my mom for her light bulb shenanigan, Dad put Saran wrap covered in honey on the toilet seat. I'm not sure what my mom thought was worse... the fact that my dad got her back, or that he used her own trick against her.

Lesson #2: Things are not always as they appear.

I stumbled down to breakfast one Saturday, plopped in my chair, and waited patiently for my pancakes and eggs. When my plate was handed to me I noticed my egg was 'sunny side up'... not my favorite, but I took it and didn't say anything. I hate getting syrup on my eggs so I decided to eat my egg first to get it out of the way. I grabbed my fork and stabbed at the bright yellow yolk. It wouldn't break! What was going on here? Then it dawned on me... it was plastic. "Hey Dad! This isn't real!" They all busted out in laughter. I'd fallen for the oldest trick in the book. *Note: I must have been fairly young because that egg didn't look even close to real (see pic below). If you want to use this on your children, start early!

On another occasion, I came to the table to eat dinner. We were having hamburgers... yum! I got my burger and dug right in... chomp! The burger was extremely chewy and I couldn't get my teeth through it. "Mom! I don't think my hamburger is done!" Yeah, because we all know that when hamburger isn't cooked properly it becomes insanely chewy and impossible to eat. It's a safety feature. Ok, so I fell for the old fake hamburger patty gag. At least this time the thing actually looked real.

We had a cocker spaniel named T.C. for several years when I was young. She always slept in my room at night and would inevitably wake me up to be let outside in the middle of the night. Sometimes she would just wander around out in the yard and I'd get impatient and go back to bed. I'd always be woken up a short time later from her barking and have to go and get her. I don't think I had a good nights sleep for about 10 years. So T.C. would usually do this routine a couple times a night... she'd scratch on my bed or door to be let out, even though she didn't actually have to go outside. So, a lot of times I would just ignore her.

One morning my dad came into my room pretty early and woke me up. "Karen! Get out of bed, you didn't let that dumb dog out last night and now she's pooped on the floor. Get down and clean it up!" He grabbed my bare hand and pulled me out of bed towards the large pile of dog poo sitting on the carpet beside my bed as I screamed bloody murder. "NOOO! I'll clean it up! I'll clean it up! I'm SORRRY! NOOO!" I knew he was going to make me grab the poop. My resistance was futile and Dad finally made my hand touch the poo. Wait a minute... it was really hard.... and not smelly. A wave of relief hit me... IT WAS FAKE. Praise the Lord! I was so relieved. Then of course we took the poop and played the joke on Annie. It was hilarious! Oh and just so you know, that was the most realistic looking piece of fake poop ever. (I'll spare you a picture although just so you know... I COULD have posted one.)

Then there was the time my dad came in my room in the morning and put an earthworm on my pillow. Why? I don't know. But it took me a minute to realize what it was. I thought it was a piece of my hair that he'd cut off or something.

Dad has this creepy old man mask he loves to wear to scare kids when he passes out candy on Halloween (and other various occasions). I still remember the first time we saw that mask...

Corinne, Annie and I came home from elementary school one day and as we walked into the kitchen, we saw someone sitting in the lazyboy chair down in the family room. Normally there was no one home when we got back from school, so of course we were immediately alarmed. This person was an old creepy bald guy just sitting there with a red and black checkered blanket on his lap... rocking slowly back and forth and staring at us. I looked at Corinne, Corinne looked at Annie, Annie looked at me. We weren't really sure what to do. We just stood there for a moment and stared. Then we started whispering to each other, "Is that Dad?" "I don't know" "I bet it's Dad" "I can't tell!" Then Corinne got brave, "Dad? Is that you?" He just sat there and stared. "We know that's you!" We just stood there. Then the man got up and started coming towards us. We all got into fight or flight pose. The old man lunged at us, "RAWRRR!" "AHHHH!" "Dad we knew it was you!" Dad pulled off his mask... "Yeah right. You birds were shakin in your boots. You need to go upstairs and change your shorts now!"

I was actually surprised that I found a picture of THE mask online... see it's creepy huh!

So as a conclusion... DO NOT play tricks on Dad. He WILL get you back and you WILL be sorry. You just have to take what he dishes out because if you try to fight back, it'll only get worse.