This is Kirsten's nephew Anthony, one of the two boys she takes care of at her nanny job. I'm nominating Anthony for honorary membership in the Thompson family based on the unusually large size of his head.
He's cute right? And what a dome!
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Anthony
This is Kirsten's nephew Anthony, one of the two boys she takes care of at her nanny job. I'm nominating Anthony for honorary membership in the Thompson family based on the unusually large size of his head.
He's cute right? And what a dome!
You heard it here first
This is from my personal blog from last night. I'm just copying it over because it's easier. You won't recognize the names of some of my friends...
How I ended up in the emergency room tonight. By Daniel Johnson, 5th Grade.
So yeah, to tell this story right means I'm going to have to embarrass myself a little. Don't judge.
I suppose this really all started about a year ago when I began looking for the perfect medallion. I was thinking, maybe a shark tooth (I like whatever Zozzy has, I think that's a shark tooth, or a urn with his relative's ashes.) Last week, I was on a hip hop blog and saw someone with a bullet at the end of their chain. "Nicely done," I thought. "How can I get one?"
So I felt pretty resourceful when I got the idea to drive up to Joe's Army Navy and see if they had any spent bullets for sale. They did. Problem was, I needed to get a hole through the bullet to affix it to my chain. At this point, high on pride in my own resourcefulness, I made a rather dubious choice to involve Ben.
A note about my friend Ben. Ben is a renaissance man. Handy. A master of many applications. BUT. Somewhat of a dreamer. Somewhat dangerous. The joke is, Ben will fix the radiator on your car but your windshield wipers will never work again. Ben will replace the heads on your tape machine, but it might blow a fuse if you actually plug it in. That kind of thing.
So I show up to Ben's last night with my bullet, and he invites me into his workshop where there has a rather robust drill. The kind of drill you mine for diamonds with. "That's funny," he says, "Are you sure this bullet has been fired? It looks unused." I told him that I specifically asked for a spent shell casing and that, in any case, I can't imagine they'd be selling live amo, especially since I explained it was going to be used for jewelry. He seemed satisfied and grabbed the bullet from me, placing it in his vice.
You might have already guessed what happens next. Ben's drill punctures the bullet, which goes off straight into the fleshy part of my thigh removing a hole of fat out of it about the size of an egg. It happened so fast that Ben and I just sat there for a good minute, stunned from the noise (louder than you'd think), and staring at my new battle wound in disbelief.
The blood was... intense. The pain... also intense. Being insurance-less, I opted to skip the ambulance treatment and with a little TLC from Ben's wife made a pathetic tourniquet with about three towels and sealed the whole thing with a garbage bag to keep from bleeding on Ben's upholstery when he taxied me to the emergency room. We laughed a little on the way to the hospital, or rather Ben did and I tried to go alone with it, but my heart wasn't in the jokes. I was angry for getting myself tagged, angry for involving Ben at all, angry at Ben's face. And honestly, it wasn't even his fault. But I blame him anyway. Him and the negative forcefield of catastrophe that surrounds him and gets innocent bystanders like me shot.
I'll be laid up for a few days from my non-job if anybody wants to bring me ice cream or hurl Molatov cocktails through my window.
I'm going to bed.
How I ended up in the emergency room tonight. By Daniel Johnson, 5th Grade.
So yeah, to tell this story right means I'm going to have to embarrass myself a little. Don't judge.
I suppose this really all started about a year ago when I began looking for the perfect medallion. I was thinking, maybe a shark tooth (I like whatever Zozzy has, I think that's a shark tooth, or a urn with his relative's ashes.) Last week, I was on a hip hop blog and saw someone with a bullet at the end of their chain. "Nicely done," I thought. "How can I get one?"
So I felt pretty resourceful when I got the idea to drive up to Joe's Army Navy and see if they had any spent bullets for sale. They did. Problem was, I needed to get a hole through the bullet to affix it to my chain. At this point, high on pride in my own resourcefulness, I made a rather dubious choice to involve Ben.
A note about my friend Ben. Ben is a renaissance man. Handy. A master of many applications. BUT. Somewhat of a dreamer. Somewhat dangerous. The joke is, Ben will fix the radiator on your car but your windshield wipers will never work again. Ben will replace the heads on your tape machine, but it might blow a fuse if you actually plug it in. That kind of thing.
So I show up to Ben's last night with my bullet, and he invites me into his workshop where there has a rather robust drill. The kind of drill you mine for diamonds with. "That's funny," he says, "Are you sure this bullet has been fired? It looks unused." I told him that I specifically asked for a spent shell casing and that, in any case, I can't imagine they'd be selling live amo, especially since I explained it was going to be used for jewelry. He seemed satisfied and grabbed the bullet from me, placing it in his vice.
You might have already guessed what happens next. Ben's drill punctures the bullet, which goes off straight into the fleshy part of my thigh removing a hole of fat out of it about the size of an egg. It happened so fast that Ben and I just sat there for a good minute, stunned from the noise (louder than you'd think), and staring at my new battle wound in disbelief.
The blood was... intense. The pain... also intense. Being insurance-less, I opted to skip the ambulance treatment and with a little TLC from Ben's wife made a pathetic tourniquet with about three towels and sealed the whole thing with a garbage bag to keep from bleeding on Ben's upholstery when he taxied me to the emergency room. We laughed a little on the way to the hospital, or rather Ben did and I tried to go alone with it, but my heart wasn't in the jokes. I was angry for getting myself tagged, angry for involving Ben at all, angry at Ben's face. And honestly, it wasn't even his fault. But I blame him anyway. Him and the negative forcefield of catastrophe that surrounds him and gets innocent bystanders like me shot.
I'll be laid up for a few days from my non-job if anybody wants to bring me ice cream or hurl Molatov cocktails through my window.
I'm going to bed.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Happy Birthday Trish
Today is Trish's birthday. No jokes this time about age (she's 59), just best wishes to one of the sweetest people any of us as ever met.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Money Pit
The Johnson-Buys clan is once again on the move like the suburban nomads we are.
It's hard to believe it was just last March that I rescued Kirsten from her well-paying job and killer-location apartment in Chicago and whisked her off to the safety and comfort of my Ferndale Manor.
It's hard to believe it was just last July that we had enough of the Ferndale Manor and got ourselves set up in a cleaner, larger pad within walking distance from downtown Royal Oak. The place was a big step up for us. On the dead end of a quiet little street. We took a lot of walks in those early days. Claire chased birds and rabbits. The house seemed like a small paradise.
We weren't alarmed the day we signed our lease and Sam the landlord gazed out the window at the vacant lot next door and said, "You know, there's a slight chance they might start construction on a new apartment complex there this year. But they say that every year. Probably won't happen...."
We weren't alarmed when the refrigerator failed to keep our food cool or frozen the first week. Especially since Sam was Johnny-on-the-spot about it and had a new one installed a week after our complaints. (This is Sam's first time landlording and he is so responsive and accommodating it's like he's trying to win some kind of prize.)
We weren't alarmed when the garbage disposal exploded, beyond the general shock of the noise and wet mess, but we did feel a little bad that Sam had to make a second repair within as many months of us being in the house.
We still weren't alarmed when the tree branch the size of our house split off and crashed, missing my Jeep by inches. Okay, we actually were alarmed, but not in any way that it seemed significant. Mostly, we just felt bad that Sam had to foot the bill for tree removal, and wondered how he could possibly be turning a profit on us at this point. Did I mention that Sam is the nicest, most attentive landlord either of us have ever had? Seriously, World's Greatest. We felt for him.
As the months went on, we weren't that alarmed when the toilet leaked, or the kitchen sink went bust again. We weren't alarmed because Sam was always there, that night or the next day, fixing everything without as much as a grumble. (While visiting once he even spotted what he saw was a problem with the handles in the shower and tried to make a quick fix - big mistake. This turned into a whole afternoon's project in itself.) But no, we weren't alarmed. We just made a joke out of it, "This will be the month that we don't have to call Sam. I just know it!"
We weren't alarmed, but we were a little put out, when the drain in the basement backed up, oozing black sewage into the laundry room, forcing us to spend the night elsewhere to avoid getting poisoned by the fumes while Sam called in a plumber to snake the drain.
We actually were alarmed, as well as annoyed, when the basement flooded the morning after our Christmas party. It was an unseasonably warm day that got up almost 60 degrees, melting nearly all of the snow that had accumulated for months, and causing some kind of overflow in our drain system. Yes, we were sad for Sam, who had to pay big for this, but also exhausted by the work of hauling all of our belongings from room to room in the basement so many times. "So many times?" you ask. Yes, so many times, because the flooding happened again, and then again. Once Sam thought the problem was licked, and the floors had sufficiently dried, he had the carpets professionally cleaned - twice, since the first time didn't take - to get rid of what was a now daily mold stench in our house reminiscent of cat pee.
We were definitely annoyed at the fact that whenever we opened the door of our own home we now flinched from the whiff of whatever mildew madness was happening in the basement. But we adapted, learned to live with the smell, and mostly just felt bad for Sam.
How can I put this? We were... not furious, but full of consternation when the construction crews arrived at the first sign of warm weather. We were sad not for Sam but for ourselves when the constant sounds of sawing, beeping and booming began waking us up before our alarms did. We were maddened by the effects of drilling noises that went on for hours and seemed to be boring into our very minds. Nay, into our very souls. We were flat-out depressed the first time we looked out the kitchen window and saw not trees, not sky, but a massive mound of soil.
But none of this diminished our love and loyalty for Sam, the World's Greatest Landlord. In fact, when the toilet wouldn't stop running, we took it upon ourselves to buy the parts and make the repair ourselves. To give him his first month without having to fix something that had broken in our house. That was the theory anyway, and we were so proud of ourselves when, after about four hours of wet, pinched and frustrating plumbing work, we had successfully repaired our own toilet. What happened next might sound like fiction, but I kid you not: within ten minutes of our celebration, the kitchen sink suddenly started shooting water all over the place (this was in no way related to the toilet plumbing). You want to know something funny? Before Sam could arrive the next day to fix the kitchen sink, another leak had begun in the bathroom (also unrelated to the toilet). Hoping to make Sam feel better, when he arrived to make the joint repairs we proudly pointed out the money and work we had saved him by fixing the toilet ourselves. "Hmmm," he mumbled, making his best effort to seem pleased. But Sam's eyes had gone vacant. The sad, inescapable truth none of us dared say was that the house was clearly toying with us. It was a living, evil thing that now openly mocked our efforts. Its message was clear: we fix one thing, I'll break two.
Well, the flooding kept happening. Other things broke. The constant smell of cat-pee-and-feet returned. We stopped inviting people over for dinner. The laughter stopped. Claire began having nightmares that the house was trying to eat her. How could I bring myself to tell her that it actually was?
So that's how Sam pulled me aside during one of his now-routine repair visits a few weeks ago and gave me the news: he was breaking the lease. He was going to gut the basement and then try to short-sell the house. I wanted to tell him that he might consider getting an exorcism, if not ritualistically burning the place to the ground. But I said nothing and shook his hand instead. "Sam," I said. "You're still the World's Greatest Landlord."
It's hard to believe it was just last March that I rescued Kirsten from her well-paying job and killer-location apartment in Chicago and whisked her off to the safety and comfort of my Ferndale Manor.
It's hard to believe it was just last July that we had enough of the Ferndale Manor and got ourselves set up in a cleaner, larger pad within walking distance from downtown Royal Oak. The place was a big step up for us. On the dead end of a quiet little street. We took a lot of walks in those early days. Claire chased birds and rabbits. The house seemed like a small paradise.
We weren't alarmed the day we signed our lease and Sam the landlord gazed out the window at the vacant lot next door and said, "You know, there's a slight chance they might start construction on a new apartment complex there this year. But they say that every year. Probably won't happen...."
We weren't alarmed when the refrigerator failed to keep our food cool or frozen the first week. Especially since Sam was Johnny-on-the-spot about it and had a new one installed a week after our complaints. (This is Sam's first time landlording and he is so responsive and accommodating it's like he's trying to win some kind of prize.)
We weren't alarmed when the garbage disposal exploded, beyond the general shock of the noise and wet mess, but we did feel a little bad that Sam had to make a second repair within as many months of us being in the house.
We still weren't alarmed when the tree branch the size of our house split off and crashed, missing my Jeep by inches. Okay, we actually were alarmed, but not in any way that it seemed significant. Mostly, we just felt bad that Sam had to foot the bill for tree removal, and wondered how he could possibly be turning a profit on us at this point. Did I mention that Sam is the nicest, most attentive landlord either of us have ever had? Seriously, World's Greatest. We felt for him.
As the months went on, we weren't that alarmed when the toilet leaked, or the kitchen sink went bust again. We weren't alarmed because Sam was always there, that night or the next day, fixing everything without as much as a grumble. (While visiting once he even spotted what he saw was a problem with the handles in the shower and tried to make a quick fix - big mistake. This turned into a whole afternoon's project in itself.) But no, we weren't alarmed. We just made a joke out of it, "This will be the month that we don't have to call Sam. I just know it!"
We weren't alarmed, but we were a little put out, when the drain in the basement backed up, oozing black sewage into the laundry room, forcing us to spend the night elsewhere to avoid getting poisoned by the fumes while Sam called in a plumber to snake the drain.
We actually were alarmed, as well as annoyed, when the basement flooded the morning after our Christmas party. It was an unseasonably warm day that got up almost 60 degrees, melting nearly all of the snow that had accumulated for months, and causing some kind of overflow in our drain system. Yes, we were sad for Sam, who had to pay big for this, but also exhausted by the work of hauling all of our belongings from room to room in the basement so many times. "So many times?" you ask. Yes, so many times, because the flooding happened again, and then again. Once Sam thought the problem was licked, and the floors had sufficiently dried, he had the carpets professionally cleaned - twice, since the first time didn't take - to get rid of what was a now daily mold stench in our house reminiscent of cat pee.
We were definitely annoyed at the fact that whenever we opened the door of our own home we now flinched from the whiff of whatever mildew madness was happening in the basement. But we adapted, learned to live with the smell, and mostly just felt bad for Sam.
How can I put this? We were... not furious, but full of consternation when the construction crews arrived at the first sign of warm weather. We were sad not for Sam but for ourselves when the constant sounds of sawing, beeping and booming began waking us up before our alarms did. We were maddened by the effects of drilling noises that went on for hours and seemed to be boring into our very minds. Nay, into our very souls. We were flat-out depressed the first time we looked out the kitchen window and saw not trees, not sky, but a massive mound of soil.
But none of this diminished our love and loyalty for Sam, the World's Greatest Landlord. In fact, when the toilet wouldn't stop running, we took it upon ourselves to buy the parts and make the repair ourselves. To give him his first month without having to fix something that had broken in our house. That was the theory anyway, and we were so proud of ourselves when, after about four hours of wet, pinched and frustrating plumbing work, we had successfully repaired our own toilet. What happened next might sound like fiction, but I kid you not: within ten minutes of our celebration, the kitchen sink suddenly started shooting water all over the place (this was in no way related to the toilet plumbing). You want to know something funny? Before Sam could arrive the next day to fix the kitchen sink, another leak had begun in the bathroom (also unrelated to the toilet). Hoping to make Sam feel better, when he arrived to make the joint repairs we proudly pointed out the money and work we had saved him by fixing the toilet ourselves. "Hmmm," he mumbled, making his best effort to seem pleased. But Sam's eyes had gone vacant. The sad, inescapable truth none of us dared say was that the house was clearly toying with us. It was a living, evil thing that now openly mocked our efforts. Its message was clear: we fix one thing, I'll break two.
Well, the flooding kept happening. Other things broke. The constant smell of cat-pee-and-feet returned. We stopped inviting people over for dinner. The laughter stopped. Claire began having nightmares that the house was trying to eat her. How could I bring myself to tell her that it actually was?
So that's how Sam pulled me aside during one of his now-routine repair visits a few weeks ago and gave me the news: he was breaking the lease. He was going to gut the basement and then try to short-sell the house. I wanted to tell him that he might consider getting an exorcism, if not ritualistically burning the place to the ground. But I said nothing and shook his hand instead. "Sam," I said. "You're still the World's Greatest Landlord."
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Focused Boy
I took this picture during the program that Mary runs for children for the county. This is just how Cole is...always focused.
Titus Gets Tubes
Titus had to have tubes put in his ears today. The procedure only took about 5 minutes but they still had to put him under for a little bit. Here's a quick video of him in his gown.
Here's a couple of pictures too. Before and after.
Essential Music
There is a radio show in Detroit called Essential Music. They're having a competition to come up with a theme song and Kirsten encouraged me to enter it. Take a second and vote for my track (Number 7):
VOTE
VOTE
Friday, March 20, 2009
Cholesterol
I recently found out that my cholesterol was through the roof. I excersise daily and eat pretty good most of the time. But I felt that something was wrong with my body so I decided to go have some blood work done to find out what was wrong. What I found out scared me. My cholesterol was at 330 and my tryglicerides were at 187. I was a snickers away from having a heart attack. The doc told me that it has to be genetics so now I am on a whole sleu of medications to get it under control. Does high cholesterol run in the Thompson family?
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Jason's Hair
Sarah writes:
So, Jason and one of his groomsman have this deal going on about their hair. His friend Chris, has not shaved or cut his hair in a really long time, so Jason and his friend Chris have this deal to where if Jason doesn't cut his hair until the wedding, Chris will shave his beard. He hasn't shaved his beard in years. So these are the pictures of the boys now...Oh, I can't wait to see them by the time the wedding roles around. Especially Jason.
So, Jason and one of his groomsman have this deal going on about their hair. His friend Chris, has not shaved or cut his hair in a really long time, so Jason and his friend Chris have this deal to where if Jason doesn't cut his hair until the wedding, Chris will shave his beard. He hasn't shaved his beard in years. So these are the pictures of the boys now...Oh, I can't wait to see them by the time the wedding roles around. Especially Jason.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Funny Link
GG posts:
Our nephew, Roger Thompson, sent this link to me and I thought it would be funny for the blog. It's about four old ladies getting hit and what followed. It will make you laugh if you listen to it all. I can identify, because I take pepper spray with me to work.
CLICK HERE
Love,
Grandma
Our nephew, Roger Thompson, sent this link to me and I thought it would be funny for the blog. It's about four old ladies getting hit and what followed. It will make you laugh if you listen to it all. I can identify, because I take pepper spray with me to work.
CLICK HERE
Love,
Grandma
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Happy Birthday Aunt Karen
Today is the birthday of one of my favorite people in the world. Karen Thompson turns 62!
Happy Birthday Aunt Karen.
Happy Birthday Aunt Karen.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Heck and Hell
I hate parent blogs. They're full of cuteness. And even though parenting is often an overload of cuteness it can also be terrifying and sometimes depressing as you do your best not to mess up your kid while at the same time somehow managing to keep their butt alive and healthy (all the while failing daily). I mean, last night I'm reading this really interesting book that talks about social conditioning and the whole time I'm thinking, "Drats! I already made half of these mistakes on Claire!"
But she's doing just fine. Better than fine, really. In fact, as far as I can tell, my kid is better than other kids - though I would never tell her this so I don't over-inflate her ego. Or wait. Should I actually try to over-inflate her ego so that when the world has its cruel way with her it'll all balance out? Man, I don't even know.
Anyway, today there were a couple of funny father/daughter moments that I will cherish for the rest of my days as an inept parent.
I pick her up from latchkey and notice her hat is nowhere in sight. This is bad because I've been cracking down on hat and glove usage: she hates wearing them and I tell her that she can thank her hatless ways for her nasty cough. At the same time I'm noticing the missing hat she sells herself out herself by blurting out, "We went outside again after school!" I say, "You went outside and didn't wear your hat?" She says, "Yes, I did." I say, "Then where is it?" She says, "Back in my locker..." I say, "Then you couldn't have worn it outside, right?" She knows she's busted. "Right."
I've also been trying to crack down on the lying, which is happening more and more frequently. I know that kids are going to lie to their parents up and down. But still, I have to try, right? So I say, "Alright Claire, you're grounded from TV tonight for lying to me." She weeps in the car. She weeps at home. She's weeping for so long that I ask her to go in her room and weep there so I don't have to listen to it any longer. I say this really nice and add that it's okay for her to be upset and cry, but that I just can't stand hearing it any longer.
Eventually, I make her dinner and, since Kirst is out, suggest that we sit down and eat together and invite her doll Ellie to join us at Kirst's place. She stops crying immediately and starts bustling around setting the table for three. Her face is red and swollen but suddenly optimistic.
While we're eating the subject of school comes up. They're learning words that start with E this week. My usual joke when we go over her letter words is to say the longest ones I can think of, in this case stuff like "Effervescent." She'll say, "Ear," and I'll say, "Evisceration." She laughs at my joke, though I'm not sure why. Then I say, "Exclamation," and ask her if she knows what an exclamation mark is. I tell her it's something you put on the ends of sentences for emphasis. She says, "Like, 'What the hell!'"
I say, "What did you just say," really not sure if I heard her correctly. She looks at me without blinking and says, "Like, 'What the HELL!'"
I'm at a total loss. We've never had the swear word talk. How do I explain to her the arbitrariness of cuss words, about substituting one word for another nearly identical word out of deference to other people's sensibilities and the superstition of language. I say something like, "Claire, has nobody talked to you about how you're not supposed to say certain words?" She looks at me blankly and continues stuffing food in her face. "No," she says.
I have no energy for the conversation. Or at least for the speech I'm supposed to make. Instead, I try to level with her and explain as sincerely as I can that there are certain words that kids aren't supposed to say, and that she's going to hear adults say them all of the time, and there's no reason for these rules except maybe manners and she's going to have to learn the rules anyway and "hell" is one of those words and she's supposed to say "heck" instead. She says, "Okay" and continues polishing off her mac 'n' cheese.
Later, I'm in my office working on something and she comes in and hands me a handmade card. It's is scrawled in her phonetic chicken scratch:
i em sre theet i
lid too you
I love you
But she's doing just fine. Better than fine, really. In fact, as far as I can tell, my kid is better than other kids - though I would never tell her this so I don't over-inflate her ego. Or wait. Should I actually try to over-inflate her ego so that when the world has its cruel way with her it'll all balance out? Man, I don't even know.
Anyway, today there were a couple of funny father/daughter moments that I will cherish for the rest of my days as an inept parent.
I pick her up from latchkey and notice her hat is nowhere in sight. This is bad because I've been cracking down on hat and glove usage: she hates wearing them and I tell her that she can thank her hatless ways for her nasty cough. At the same time I'm noticing the missing hat she sells herself out herself by blurting out, "We went outside again after school!" I say, "You went outside and didn't wear your hat?" She says, "Yes, I did." I say, "Then where is it?" She says, "Back in my locker..." I say, "Then you couldn't have worn it outside, right?" She knows she's busted. "Right."
I've also been trying to crack down on the lying, which is happening more and more frequently. I know that kids are going to lie to their parents up and down. But still, I have to try, right? So I say, "Alright Claire, you're grounded from TV tonight for lying to me." She weeps in the car. She weeps at home. She's weeping for so long that I ask her to go in her room and weep there so I don't have to listen to it any longer. I say this really nice and add that it's okay for her to be upset and cry, but that I just can't stand hearing it any longer.
Eventually, I make her dinner and, since Kirst is out, suggest that we sit down and eat together and invite her doll Ellie to join us at Kirst's place. She stops crying immediately and starts bustling around setting the table for three. Her face is red and swollen but suddenly optimistic.
While we're eating the subject of school comes up. They're learning words that start with E this week. My usual joke when we go over her letter words is to say the longest ones I can think of, in this case stuff like "Effervescent." She'll say, "Ear," and I'll say, "Evisceration." She laughs at my joke, though I'm not sure why. Then I say, "Exclamation," and ask her if she knows what an exclamation mark is. I tell her it's something you put on the ends of sentences for emphasis. She says, "Like, 'What the hell!'"
I say, "What did you just say," really not sure if I heard her correctly. She looks at me without blinking and says, "Like, 'What the HELL!'"
I'm at a total loss. We've never had the swear word talk. How do I explain to her the arbitrariness of cuss words, about substituting one word for another nearly identical word out of deference to other people's sensibilities and the superstition of language. I say something like, "Claire, has nobody talked to you about how you're not supposed to say certain words?" She looks at me blankly and continues stuffing food in her face. "No," she says.
I have no energy for the conversation. Or at least for the speech I'm supposed to make. Instead, I try to level with her and explain as sincerely as I can that there are certain words that kids aren't supposed to say, and that she's going to hear adults say them all of the time, and there's no reason for these rules except maybe manners and she's going to have to learn the rules anyway and "hell" is one of those words and she's supposed to say "heck" instead. She says, "Okay" and continues polishing off her mac 'n' cheese.
Later, I'm in my office working on something and she comes in and hands me a handmade card. It's is scrawled in her phonetic chicken scratch:
i em sre theet i
lid too you
I love you
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Man Hands
Claire has many beautiful qualities but her hands are.... how can I put this... manish. I've noticed it before but it really popped out in this video message she made today for Kirsten (who is at work nannying).
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Dancing Girls
.jpg)
Dance lessons were my present to Claire this Christmas. She also got the full leotard/tights/slippers costume as well but they couldn't be located in time for this past Saturday's class so we had to improvise.
Claire is the same age as these girls but much, much larger. It's funny and cute how tall she is. But the extra height hasn't made her any less graceful.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
Richard Blankenhorn, Funny Guy Part II (Aka Who's Laughing Now?)
Richard fills us in on the not-so-funny stresses of his current schedule:
I have been busy studying for my series 7 exam, which is financial test i have to take to become a broker. I have been studying about 4 hours a night on the weekdays and practically all day on the weekends. I have basically not had a life for the past 2 months. I finally took my preliminary test this past week and passed, but I am not going to take the real test for another few weeks. Once I pass, I'll be training to be a service center broker, meaning I take calls from clients who cannot immediately get in touch with their local branch office, and I'll be traveling 4 to 5 weeks out of the year to branches all across the US. I can't wait to get this over with because I am sick of studying and I hate my current job. I am also kind of nervous because I have heard of brokers getting calls from crazy and angry people. The manager who interviewed me told me there is this guy who constantly calls and is always peeing in a toilet when he calls. I have also heard of people calling who are drunk or who barely speak English and are screaming at you in some other language. It should be pretty interesting. Also, I am going to New York City this weekend to visit some friends and take a breather. I'll try to get you some pictures of the trip. Other than this, I have nothing else going on really. I hope everyone in the Thompson family is doing well and managing through these tough economic times.
-Rich
I have been busy studying for my series 7 exam, which is financial test i have to take to become a broker. I have been studying about 4 hours a night on the weekdays and practically all day on the weekends. I have basically not had a life for the past 2 months. I finally took my preliminary test this past week and passed, but I am not going to take the real test for another few weeks. Once I pass, I'll be training to be a service center broker, meaning I take calls from clients who cannot immediately get in touch with their local branch office, and I'll be traveling 4 to 5 weeks out of the year to branches all across the US. I can't wait to get this over with because I am sick of studying and I hate my current job. I am also kind of nervous because I have heard of brokers getting calls from crazy and angry people. The manager who interviewed me told me there is this guy who constantly calls and is always peeing in a toilet when he calls. I have also heard of people calling who are drunk or who barely speak English and are screaming at you in some other language. It should be pretty interesting. Also, I am going to New York City this weekend to visit some friends and take a breather. I'll try to get you some pictures of the trip. Other than this, I have nothing else going on really. I hope everyone in the Thompson family is doing well and managing through these tough economic times.
-Rich
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Richard Blankenhorn, Funny Guy
Via Grandma, via Trish:
Richard met his Grandma and Grandpa Blankenhorn for dinner the other night and Grandpa always asks him if he changes the oil in his car. Richard said, "Yeah I just changed it but I think I bought the wrong kind of vegetable oil because it’s not running too good now." Trish said, I guess he got Grandpa really going, fussing at him and then he told him he was just joking.
Richard met his Grandma and Grandpa Blankenhorn for dinner the other night and Grandpa always asks him if he changes the oil in his car. Richard said, "Yeah I just changed it but I think I bought the wrong kind of vegetable oil because it’s not running too good now." Trish said, I guess he got Grandpa really going, fussing at him and then he told him he was just joking.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Sarah's Engagement Story
At last, via Sarah:
Ok, ok, sorry it took me so long. Anyway, this is how it happened.
Mom and Mark came down to Springfield on the 6th and 7th to celebrate my birthday. They came down on that Friday night but I had to work so I knew I wasn't going to see them until Saturday morning. Well, work wasn't that busy so they let me go home early. I called Jason from work and he said he had just finished having dinner with my parents. I though to myself--Hmm, ok, you are having dinner with my parents--and I'm NOT there....weird. So, Saturday morning we met up with my parents and we all went down to Branson for the day. While my mom and I were in a store shopping, Jason and Mark were outside the store talking. I'm thinking--What in the world could they possibly be talking about? (Well, fact is Jason was asking my dad if he could ask me to marry him. And that's what he mentioned on Friday night at dinner also.) So when we got back to Springfield I had like 30 minutes until I had to be at work, but Jason wanted to go inside my parents hotel room and sit for a little bit. So I'm sitting on the couch with my parents right there and Jason sits on the couch next to me and says (really loud) "You know I love you, right?" So I think to myself--why is he talking so loud. So I tell him I love him back and he continues by saying "Well, your parents didn't just come down for your birthday. While you and your mom were shopping I was asking your dad a question." So while he was talking he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. So I just started balling. I could not believe that this was happening. Then he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him. I just cried and hugged him and finally he was like "Well?" And I said that of course I would marry him!! So, that is the story and now we are engaged. We had talked about it before but I never in a million years thought it would be anytime soon. We don't really know a date yet because I just sent off my applications for my dietetic internships. I won't find out if I am accepted or not until around April. But we really want to have the wedding in the fall. So I will keep everyone updated on all the news although I am really bad about communicating. Attached is a picture of the ring.
Ok, ok, sorry it took me so long. Anyway, this is how it happened.
Mom and Mark came down to Springfield on the 6th and 7th to celebrate my birthday. They came down on that Friday night but I had to work so I knew I wasn't going to see them until Saturday morning. Well, work wasn't that busy so they let me go home early. I called Jason from work and he said he had just finished having dinner with my parents. I though to myself--Hmm, ok, you are having dinner with my parents--and I'm NOT there....weird. So, Saturday morning we met up with my parents and we all went down to Branson for the day. While my mom and I were in a store shopping, Jason and Mark were outside the store talking. I'm thinking--What in the world could they possibly be talking about? (Well, fact is Jason was asking my dad if he could ask me to marry him. And that's what he mentioned on Friday night at dinner also.) So when we got back to Springfield I had like 30 minutes until I had to be at work, but Jason wanted to go inside my parents hotel room and sit for a little bit. So I'm sitting on the couch with my parents right there and Jason sits on the couch next to me and says (really loud) "You know I love you, right?" So I think to myself--why is he talking so loud. So I tell him I love him back and he continues by saying "Well, your parents didn't just come down for your birthday. While you and your mom were shopping I was asking your dad a question." So while he was talking he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring. So I just started balling. I could not believe that this was happening. Then he got down on his knee and asked me to marry him. I just cried and hugged him and finally he was like "Well?" And I said that of course I would marry him!! So, that is the story and now we are engaged. We had talked about it before but I never in a million years thought it would be anytime soon. We don't really know a date yet because I just sent off my applications for my dietetic internships. I won't find out if I am accepted or not until around April. But we really want to have the wedding in the fall. So I will keep everyone updated on all the news although I am really bad about communicating. Attached is a picture of the ring.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
For Anybody Who Hasn't Heard Yet!
Sarah got engaged to Jason this week. She's promised me the full story and as soon as I get it, I'm posting it. All I know is there were tears.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
The Ghost of Bobby Dunbar
This American Life "The Ghost of Bobby Dunbar"
Everybody should listen to this, an example of radio at its finest. This is a story about a woman who begins looking into her family history, specifically the story of her great grandfather Bobby Dunbar, who was famously kidnapped and then found years later in another state. Besides the gripping story, I enjoyed hearing the southern accents of the people interviewed as well as their gentle manner of speaking. It's kind of sad, when you think about it, that regional accents can die out over generations, as they have in the Thompson family. They sound beautiful and it's a shame there isn't a way to preserve them somehow. Just a thought.
But seriously, listen to this story!
Monday, February 9, 2009
Scaring People is Fun
I'm leaving for NY tomorrow. You guys should send me some updates, photos, videos, anything so we can know what's up in the wide world of Thompson-ness.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Depressing Talk
I had a bright idea for the blog, or so I thought. With the news being on 24-7 Recession alert, and some even throwing out the word "depression," I thought we could all use some real perspective on how hard things really got in this country during the great depression, and how comparatively cushy we have it now. "Hey," I thought. "Grandma and Grandpa lived through the depression. They'll probably have some great stories that I could post on the blog." So I sent out an email asking for them to pony up.
Grandma's response was... what would you call it.... a ray of sunshine:
You ask us to write our memories of the Great Depression. I really don't have any. I was born in 1931 so I was too young to know what was going on. I don't remember hearing my parents talk about it. We lived on a farm out in the country and raised some of our meat, had chickens for eggs, cows for milk and butter, and a garden for vegetables. I'm sure it was rough in a lot of ways but I don't know more.
Grandpa knows quite a bit about it. His parents lived on the highway, a two lane highway and they had people coming by a lot, wanting food or a place to stay. Grandpa's mother never wanted to turn anyone away. One time she heard some say, "We'd better eat all we can. We don't know when we will get more." They sold watermelons for fifteen to twenty cents each and grandpa (6 years old) told the people that they had some for a nickel each. They bought them for a nickel and grandpa's brother and cousin were really angry that a little brother did that. A nickel could buy some food though. Grandpa and his siblings would walk along the highway and look for pop lids. They would pull out the cork part and see what the prize was. Often they found one that would say they could get a free bottle of pop. Grandpa had a pet chicken and it ran across the highway and got killed. Grandpa cried but nothing went to waste, so his mother cooked it and grandpa took some for his lunch at school. Grandpa had four siblings at that time and it was difficult for his dad to make it, so grandpa started working in the field picking cotton when he was about six or so. The banks went under. Some people killed themselves.
Love you,
Grandma
Grandma's response was... what would you call it.... a ray of sunshine:
You ask us to write our memories of the Great Depression. I really don't have any. I was born in 1931 so I was too young to know what was going on. I don't remember hearing my parents talk about it. We lived on a farm out in the country and raised some of our meat, had chickens for eggs, cows for milk and butter, and a garden for vegetables. I'm sure it was rough in a lot of ways but I don't know more.
Grandpa knows quite a bit about it. His parents lived on the highway, a two lane highway and they had people coming by a lot, wanting food or a place to stay. Grandpa's mother never wanted to turn anyone away. One time she heard some say, "We'd better eat all we can. We don't know when we will get more." They sold watermelons for fifteen to twenty cents each and grandpa (6 years old) told the people that they had some for a nickel each. They bought them for a nickel and grandpa's brother and cousin were really angry that a little brother did that. A nickel could buy some food though. Grandpa and his siblings would walk along the highway and look for pop lids. They would pull out the cork part and see what the prize was. Often they found one that would say they could get a free bottle of pop. Grandpa had a pet chicken and it ran across the highway and got killed. Grandpa cried but nothing went to waste, so his mother cooked it and grandpa took some for his lunch at school. Grandpa had four siblings at that time and it was difficult for his dad to make it, so grandpa started working in the field picking cotton when he was about six or so. The banks went under. Some people killed themselves.
Love you,
Grandma
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Green Church Story
I have a new story out today in a really nice local online magazine called Metromode. It's about a Catholic priest who has converted his church into a very energy efficient and environmentally-friendly operation. I was really motivated by meeting him and impressed by what he's accomplished.
Read it here.
Read it here.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Monday, February 2, 2009
Surprise!
Cole learned a new expression. I was talking to him and I said something that surprised him and he made a surprised expression. I started laughing and asked him to do that again...this is what I got. It still makes me laugh.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Sepporahs Prayer
From Jessica:
A morning ritual that Sepporah and I have is that she will crawl into bed with me to chit chat till she is fully awake. This morning was no different but what she said was so precious. It will be one of those moment that I will treasure forever.
The conversation went like this.
"Why do you pray?" Sepporah asked. I explained to talk to my Heavenly Father. "Why do you call Him your Heavenly Father?" she asked. "Because He is my Father who lives in Heaven" I tried to explain. She then moved on to ask me if she could pray for my Uncle who is having surgery on Friday. This was her sweet prayer.
"Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for my sleep and the nice day. I pray that Uncle Bill won't have to have surgery. Because I don't want him to hurt. Uncle Ron will quit drinking beer so he won't die and G-pa Leoni will quit drinking beer and quit smoking so he won't die. Amen."
She was genuine. Her heart was layed out before God. I don't think I've ever heard such a sweet prayer.
I thank God for Sepporah and for bringing her into my life. I know he has great things in store for her.
I love that little girl with all my heart.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
My Little Princess
It's hard to believe that 6 years ago today was the happiest and scariest day of my life. Sepporah was born a few weeks early on January 28, 2003, and her lungs were underdeveloped. She was in intensive care at Childrens Hospital for a week and each night I went to bed not knowing if I would still have her the next morning. I still remember the first time I held her. Right after she was born, they took her away because she was struggling to breath. I still remember watching her through the glass struggling to breath. 24 hours later they had to transport her to Childrens Hospital and before they did, they finally let me hold her. I dont think I have ever cried that hard again. About a week later, they gave her a drug for her lungs to speed up their development, and the Mighty Sepporah was born. Its hard to imagine that the same little girl I wrestle with now and struggle to keep up with was born premature. Words really can't express how much I love her. Happy Birthday Sepporah.....Daddy loves you so much!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
The Day The Blondes Were Born
Today is Sarah and Phyllis's Birthday, two very special people in our lives. And if that wasn't enough, a special little person, Sepporah, will turn 6 tomorrow. SIX YEARS OLD. Happy Birthday ladies.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Be Careful What You Joke About
I was about to make a joke that we should put out an APB on Grandma and Grandpa because a) Grandma wasn't commenting on the blog and b) she hadn't returned my emails this week. It turns out that, yes, it does take an actual medical emergency to keep her off this thing:
In her words:
Monday night I was awakened with a severe heaviness in my chest. My heart went out of rhythm and was pounding. It's called atrofibrillation. Grandpa called 911 and they thought I should go to the hospital. I just came home this morning, Friday. They put me on medicine and because there are some serious side affects to it, they had to monitor me to make sure it would work for me. I had to take the pills five times (twice a day) before I could leave. It is supposed to help regulate the rhythm and keep that from happening again, hopefully. Tests showed that my heart was not damaged. I am fine now. I got so bored lying in bed and being hooked up to that IV thing.
In her words:
Monday night I was awakened with a severe heaviness in my chest. My heart went out of rhythm and was pounding. It's called atrofibrillation. Grandpa called 911 and they thought I should go to the hospital. I just came home this morning, Friday. They put me on medicine and because there are some serious side affects to it, they had to monitor me to make sure it would work for me. I had to take the pills five times (twice a day) before I could leave. It is supposed to help regulate the rhythm and keep that from happening again, hopefully. Tests showed that my heart was not damaged. I am fine now. I got so bored lying in bed and being hooked up to that IV thing.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The Johnson side of the Thompson clan went to an indoor water park this past weekend. It became obvious really quick that Cole did NOT like the water especially when it got in his face. Titus is just the opposite. He loves the water.
When we got home, I gave them a bath and here is an example of Titus' response to water in his face.
When we got home, I gave them a bath and here is an example of Titus' response to water in his face.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Your Face'll Freeze Like That
When I was a kid, uncle Steven told me that if I kept leaving my mouth hanging open, it would freeze like that. Now that I'm an adult and know a little bit more of my uncle's sense of humor, I can see that the joke was probably as much about the silliness of those kinds of false truisms that get passed on from generation to generation despite themselves than any kind of laugh at my expense. But what's also funny is how what he said stayed with me. How I chewed on that idea for years. Really? My mouth can freeze that way? (Cole's mouth is pretty much open during all of his waking hours, so I can't wait to try this out on him.)
But this got me thinking about these kinds of moments. Where people say something that sticks with you, and maybe even makes a life change for you going forward. For instance, another thing that I remember uncle Steven telling me was that I shouldn't put salt on my fries. When I asked why he said that salt served no real purpose in the body and that it just collected water and weight. This made sense to me and I stopped salting my food from that moment on. True story.
Does anybody else have a story along these lines they'd like to share?
But this got me thinking about these kinds of moments. Where people say something that sticks with you, and maybe even makes a life change for you going forward. For instance, another thing that I remember uncle Steven telling me was that I shouldn't put salt on my fries. When I asked why he said that salt served no real purpose in the body and that it just collected water and weight. This made sense to me and I stopped salting my food from that moment on. True story.
Does anybody else have a story along these lines they'd like to share?
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A Tiny Tear in the Fabric of the Universe
So I'm standing in the living room of my friend A.J. making small talk when it happened. I had come by to borrow a midi controller and it was my first time setting foot in his home. We had digressed about cats, Christian rock and a pretty mindblowing concept for a screenplay based on A.J.'s recent breakup when I looked across the room and saw it. And my speech slurred to a stop. "Wha–? Is that... I don't, under...."
A.J. stared at me, perplexed, his big, sweet Ewok eyes growing wider. He said nothing.
"Why do you have that...? I mean, what is that? I just don't understand."
I was staring at this painting, on the cover of an LP, which he had framed and set on his table.
And the tiny tear in the fabric of the universe happened in my brain, which short-circuited because I couldn't understand what multiple levels of perverse indie irony had caused someone to create a retro-tinged oil painting of spoof-epic Tropic Thunder's Kirk Lazurus (actually the white actor Robert Downey Jr. in blackface), and dress him in WWII-era pilot garb.
I heard A.J., as if from a great distance, mumbling something about Jazz composer Thelonious Monk and great deals on frames from Urban Outfitters, but I had already fallen down the rabbit hole.
A.J. stared at me, perplexed, his big, sweet Ewok eyes growing wider. He said nothing.
"Why do you have that...? I mean, what is that? I just don't understand."
I was staring at this painting, on the cover of an LP, which he had framed and set on his table.
And the tiny tear in the fabric of the universe happened in my brain, which short-circuited because I couldn't understand what multiple levels of perverse indie irony had caused someone to create a retro-tinged oil painting of spoof-epic Tropic Thunder's Kirk Lazurus (actually the white actor Robert Downey Jr. in blackface), and dress him in WWII-era pilot garb.
I heard A.J., as if from a great distance, mumbling something about Jazz composer Thelonious Monk and great deals on frames from Urban Outfitters, but I had already fallen down the rabbit hole.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
Newest member of the Thompson family
I would like for everyone to meet the newest member of the Thompson Blog. My mustache. Sepporah has named it "Dude".....please everyone....do not be afraid of it....embrace it.
Christopher Fails the Thompson Madness Questionnaire
Oh, Christopher....
Christopher Johnson
Describe your hairstyle in two words or less.
Short and Free
What is your favorite song?
Any song that isn’t from the High School Musicals….
How Great Thou Art
What is the last thing that totally blew your mind.
My mom’s ability to spank me through email.
How's your love life?
Baseball is going good…….
JK… I love Jessica with all my heart.
If there's one dessert you could eat until it hurts, what would it be?
JESSICAS BANANA PUDDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When is your bedtime?
When ever I fall asleep. But I try and get to bed around 9ish.
Einstein said: "A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin. What else does a man need to be happy?" Customize this quote to fit yourself.
I wish I could punch Einstein in the face.
What is your most under appreciated attribute?
My high level of sarcasm. For some reason it really upsets my mom and I have absolutely no idea why. (sense the sarcasm.)
What is your pet's name?
Sepporah
How much can you bench press?
About 4 Daniels
Quick, how old are Betty and Leroy Thompson?
Infinity
And what are they really doing with all that free time?
I think Grandma cries over the sarcasm on the blog, and Grandpa is getting the movie The Tales of Value for his grandkids to watch again….and again…and again…..
Will you announce your candidacy this year?
I do not like this question, and will not respond to it.
Christopher Johnson
Describe your hairstyle in two words or less.
Short and Free
What is your favorite song?
Any song that isn’t from the High School Musicals….
How Great Thou Art
What is the last thing that totally blew your mind.
My mom’s ability to spank me through email.
How's your love life?
Baseball is going good…….
JK… I love Jessica with all my heart.
If there's one dessert you could eat until it hurts, what would it be?
JESSICAS BANANA PUDDING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When is your bedtime?
When ever I fall asleep. But I try and get to bed around 9ish.
Einstein said: "A table, a chair, a bowl of fruit and a violin. What else does a man need to be happy?" Customize this quote to fit yourself.
I wish I could punch Einstein in the face.
What is your most under appreciated attribute?
My high level of sarcasm. For some reason it really upsets my mom and I have absolutely no idea why. (sense the sarcasm.)
What is your pet's name?
Sepporah
How much can you bench press?
About 4 Daniels
Quick, how old are Betty and Leroy Thompson?
Infinity
And what are they really doing with all that free time?
I think Grandma cries over the sarcasm on the blog, and Grandpa is getting the movie The Tales of Value for his grandkids to watch again….and again…and again…..
Will you announce your candidacy this year?
I do not like this question, and will not respond to it.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Here Comes the Third
Mary is expected and is due August 5th. That is just between Dan and Chris' birthday. Wonder if she'll have the baby on one of their birthdays.
Friday, January 2, 2009
Titus's Pasta Face/Rage Face
Apparently Titus not only inherited the Phyllis/Matt gene that causes him to roll his tongue backward and bite it when concentrating.... he also inherited Matt's childhood instant temper.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Making Cookies
Another video of Claire being recorded in her natural habitat, unawares (the computer is recording her, but the screen is set to a screen-saver, so that's what she's staring at at first).
Things to look for:
She HATES my accents. Any accents of mine. Of any kind. Mexican. New York/Boston. She just wants me to talk in my "normal voice."
The sass. The incredible amount of sass she dishes out at me.
Poker-faced Kirsten. She is all business, all the time. All about making those cookies. She also doesn't really approve of my accents.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Friday, December 19, 2008
Memories of Bill
Memories of Bill Thompson
by
his Brother, Leroy
by
his Brother, Leroy
1. When Bill was around six or seven years old he had a fondness for beans that was well known in the family. Once when Mom served green beans he protested strongly by saying, “Why do we have to eat those old bean hulls?” Someone said, “Bill, why do you like beans so well?” His reply was, “Because they taste Tangy.” Through the years I have teased children in the family while they were eating by asking them: “Does that taste “Tangy?”
2. The most humorous thing that I remember was when Bill, a little older, set off a Roman Candle he had gotten for Christmas in the house. It was a farmhouse with doors between living room, dining room, kitchen and pantry all in a row. Dad was fearful Bill was going to burn down the house with the Roman Candle. However, Bill had the common sense to line the shots from the candle through all those doorways until it burned itself out. Needless to say, it was scary to Dad but funny to the rest of us.
3. In that same farm house, something happened to Bill that makes me cringe to think about it. He was a teen and rode his bike to what was called, “Hoovers Landing,” on Black River. A man lived in a house boat in that area. Though he was strange we never thought him dangerous until that day. We looked toward the landing and saw him throw Bill’s bike into the river. Our worst fear was that he had already thrown Bill into the river. While we were watching we heard a shot from the rifle hit our house. A little later, we looked to the left toward a Levee a little distance from our house. It was the greatest sense of relief one could feel
when we saw it was Bill somewhat casually walking home toward us. Our relief soon turned to great concern when we realized that Bill had been hit in the shoulder area by one bullet from the strange man’s rifle. We got him to a doctor as soon as possible but at that time a decision was made to treat the wound and leave the bullet in the collar bone area of his body. (The strange man was taken to jail and later to an Institution for mental treatment).
The point in telling this story is to show how Providential it was that Bill’s life was spared that day. We can only imagine our loss had God not spared this
good man’s life to bless us in so many, many ways.
when we saw it was Bill somewhat casually walking home toward us. Our relief soon turned to great concern when we realized that Bill had been hit in the shoulder area by one bullet from the strange man’s rifle. We got him to a doctor as soon as possible but at that time a decision was made to treat the wound and leave the bullet in the collar bone area of his body. (The strange man was taken to jail and later to an Institution for mental treatment).
The point in telling this story is to show how Providential it was that Bill’s life was spared that day. We can only imagine our loss had God not spared this
good man’s life to bless us in so many, many ways.
Love always, Leroy
Changes
The idea behind this blog was that if it just existed for long enough, it was bound to capture all of the changes that happen to families over time. Hopefully most of those are good-news kinds of changes. But occasionally there are bound to be sad things to report as well. It's just the nature of life. This week is a good example of that. First Matt had a promotion and now Stephen has been promoted as well. But sadly, we've lost Bill, Grandpa Thompson's beloved brother, and the second of his brothers to pass away. I hope nobody minds me making mention of both the sad and good news in the same post. To me, it makes more sense that way because it's an analog to life.
---
Bill was suffering from complications from Vascular Dementia. The condition causes his blood vessels retract and the blood flow to be cut off to his brain. It apparently affects different people different ways. With Bill affected his muscles and caused him to draw back and have spasms. It can progress slowly or go fast. In the end he would sometimes contract into a fetal position and could not or would not eat. He eventually developed pneumonia and this is what too his life.
In the next day or so, we are going to have some of Grandpa's recollections of Bill posted. I wish I would have gotten a chance to know him as an adult, and I'm looking forward to learning about this great uncle of mine who I never knew.
---
Many of us were waiting to find out the news on Stephen's pitch that he had been preparing for just before the Thanksgiving break. I still haven't gotten a final word on this, but his performance for the company must have been exceptional because he's just been promoted to Executive Creative Director. I know we're all in awe of Stephen's talents and the hard work he puts into his career. Congratulations!
Here is the note that went out with Stephen's promotion, within the company.
As iCrossing continues to build its reputation as a full service digital agency,
we must consistently perform on the promise of our key differentiator: deliver
informed creative that leads to measurable results. In parallel, we must fine-tune
our staff mix to reduce overlaps in roles and responsibilities, put the right people
in the right positions, and spread our most experienced staff across accounts.
To these ends, I am pleased to announce the promotion of Stephen Thompson, currently
senior vice president and executive creative director, to executive vice president
(EVP) and executive creative director. Since joining iCrossing in August of 2007,
Stephen has worked to build, reinforce, and sell our strategy as well as redefine
our creative processes and deliverables. As a result of his leadership, we are seeing
interactive agency of record opportunities and increased consideration as a full
service digital agency.
Over his 25-year career, split almost evenly between traditional advertising and
interactive, Stephen has led award-winning creative for such notable clients as
Intel, Iomega, Kellogg's, Hewlett-Packard, Keebler, Red Lobster, and most recently,
Vail Resorts. His personal mantra, be religiously strategic and wildly creative,
has served him and his teams well over the years. Stephen knows what great work
is and how to produce it.
Reflecting the increasing strategic prominence of creative, Stephen now oversees
all creative in North America. He will proliferate and reinforce our differentiator
of delivering informed creative both within iCrossing and to external audiences,
and he will ensure that we consistently perform on this promise in our work for
clients. In addition, Stephen will be a key contributor to iCrossing strategic
initiatives including helping to manage key accounts, developing new business, implementing
standards and best practices, improving processes, increasing performance to our
values, furthering our thought leadership, and guiding our corporate branding.
Stephen will continue to report to Ann Gaglioti, EVP, delivery.
Eric Wegerbauer will continue working closely with Stephen to build our design capabilities
and reputation. Eric will report to Stephen, and will help him lead our talented
team of group creative directors and their staff.
Please join me in congratulating Stephen on his promotion and offering support as
he transitions into his new role.
Don
---
Bill was suffering from complications from Vascular Dementia. The condition causes his blood vessels retract and the blood flow to be cut off to his brain. It apparently affects different people different ways. With Bill affected his muscles and caused him to draw back and have spasms. It can progress slowly or go fast. In the end he would sometimes contract into a fetal position and could not or would not eat. He eventually developed pneumonia and this is what too his life.
In the next day or so, we are going to have some of Grandpa's recollections of Bill posted. I wish I would have gotten a chance to know him as an adult, and I'm looking forward to learning about this great uncle of mine who I never knew.
---
Many of us were waiting to find out the news on Stephen's pitch that he had been preparing for just before the Thanksgiving break. I still haven't gotten a final word on this, but his performance for the company must have been exceptional because he's just been promoted to Executive Creative Director. I know we're all in awe of Stephen's talents and the hard work he puts into his career. Congratulations!
Here is the note that went out with Stephen's promotion, within the company.
As iCrossing continues to build its reputation as a full service digital agency,
we must consistently perform on the promise of our key differentiator: deliver
informed creative that leads to measurable results. In parallel, we must fine-tune
our staff mix to reduce overlaps in roles and responsibilities, put the right people
in the right positions, and spread our most experienced staff across accounts.
To these ends, I am pleased to announce the promotion of Stephen Thompson, currently
senior vice president and executive creative director, to executive vice president
(EVP) and executive creative director. Since joining iCrossing in August of 2007,
Stephen has worked to build, reinforce, and sell our strategy as well as redefine
our creative processes and deliverables. As a result of his leadership, we are seeing
interactive agency of record opportunities and increased consideration as a full
service digital agency.
Over his 25-year career, split almost evenly between traditional advertising and
interactive, Stephen has led award-winning creative for such notable clients as
Intel, Iomega, Kellogg's, Hewlett-Packard, Keebler, Red Lobster, and most recently,
Vail Resorts. His personal mantra, be religiously strategic and wildly creative,
has served him and his teams well over the years. Stephen knows what great work
is and how to produce it.
Reflecting the increasing strategic prominence of creative, Stephen now oversees
all creative in North America. He will proliferate and reinforce our differentiator
of delivering informed creative both within iCrossing and to external audiences,
and he will ensure that we consistently perform on this promise in our work for
clients. In addition, Stephen will be a key contributor to iCrossing strategic
initiatives including helping to manage key accounts, developing new business, implementing
standards and best practices, improving processes, increasing performance to our
values, furthering our thought leadership, and guiding our corporate branding.
Stephen will continue to report to Ann Gaglioti, EVP, delivery.
Eric Wegerbauer will continue working closely with Stephen to build our design capabilities
and reputation. Eric will report to Stephen, and will help him lead our talented
team of group creative directors and their staff.
Please join me in congratulating Stephen on his promotion and offering support as
he transitions into his new role.
Don
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Bill Thompson, 1932-2008
The Thompson family lost one of its originals yesterday, Bill Thompson (far right). Bill was brother to Leroy, left and Carroll, center. 1932-2008, age 76.
Monday, December 15, 2008
New Job
My brother asked me to put up a post about this so here it goes...
I just accepted a new job at the church where I have been working. For the last four years I have been the pastor of youth ministry and young adults (along with many other responsibilities). I will stay over these areas but now I am also the Executive Pastor. This new position will mean that I will oversee the staff at our church and help in the overall structure and leadership of the church. I will have two assistants to help me oversee all of these areas and I am really excited for this opportunity and challenge.
I work at a great church and can't wait to help focus our ministries and train our leaders.
I just accepted a new job at the church where I have been working. For the last four years I have been the pastor of youth ministry and young adults (along with many other responsibilities). I will stay over these areas but now I am also the Executive Pastor. This new position will mean that I will oversee the staff at our church and help in the overall structure and leadership of the church. I will have two assistants to help me oversee all of these areas and I am really excited for this opportunity and challenge.
I work at a great church and can't wait to help focus our ministries and train our leaders.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)