The many faces of Jenny.

Our friend Jenny is a deep, multifacted human being. The following is just a few of the 87 different emotions of Jenny on Facebook. Enjoy.

Happy

Sad

Elated

Exhausted

Perplexed

Worshipful

Celebratory

Inquisitive

Loyal

Hungry

Depressed

Suicidal

Hopeful

Bashful

Sleepy

Dopey

Sneezy

Grumpy

Doc?

Mischievous

Angry

Melancholy and the infinite sadness.

Worried

Friendly

Anxious

Proud

Safe

Alegre!

Trendy

And Scared

There you have it.

Silly Shirt Sightings

Danny E. Hay: March 26, 1952- May 8, 2006

I have to tell you, this whole situation is quite strange. For a person like myself who is usually in control of their emotions, and has a fairly firm grip on reality, this has thrown me for a loop.

I've figured out that there is no "standard" for grief. Everyone grieves differently. I've discovered that I can hold it together when I need to, in public or at memorial services. But in private tears are random and frequent. Just the littlest thing can set me off.

At the memorial in AZ, I didn't hardly cry a drop. I was worried everyone thought I was strange for not looking upset. In fact, my uncle and I were joking around alot. I guess that's how we deal with pain.

Denial aint just a river in Egypt. I understand what this means now. Your mind knows what happened, but your heart won't believe it. It's like I have to tell my heart over and over again what happened, and everytime, it acts surprised.

His story is a great testimony to the power of Jesus. I shared at the memorial that Dad and I didn't get along when I was young...that's an understatement. Then about 6 years ago or so, he accepted Christ.. Talk about a complete 180. He became the Dad I had always hoped for. Sure, he still had his faults, but the last 5 years have been the best ever. We did stuff together, talked stuff out, prayed together, and said "I love you" pretty often... amazing. My mother said at the memorial that she didn't know the guy everyone was talking about. (They divorced 11 years ago) She's right. That's how big of a change he made.

So many people were in tears looking at me. It was a little strange. That's because I look alot like my Dad, and have many of the same manerisms. I remember when I was a kid I hated the fact that my name was the same as his, and resented it when people said we looked alike. Now, I couldn't be more proud to pass on the high forhead, no butt and Santa belly.












My earliest memories of my father was watching him work on his 1938 Chevy. He bought it in 1970 when he still lived with my grandparents. It was all original and somebody had painted it blue with a brush and roller. I think he said he paid $400 for it, to which my grandpa thought he was nuts paying that for it. It was a rust free car (rare in Iowa) and it was sold new at Fletcher Jones Chevrolet in Phoenix, Az. That's ironic because we lived in Iowa, and eventually moved to AZ.

He finished hot rodding it in 1982. The following year we drove to OKC to the Street Rod Nationals. There were 12,000 cars there that year, and Dad won a Top 25 award. That means the car was judged as one of the top 25 at the show. He was very proud of this because all the other award winners were red Fords, and he had a purple Chevy.

He did everything to the car himself in our garage except stitch the upolstery. He put every amenity that new cars had on this one. Power windows, door locks, cruise, tilt wheel, automatic trans, automatic headlights, power antenna, power seats A/C, power steering, AM/FM Stereo...It has a 327 V-8 from a 69 corvette. Even though the restoration is more than 25 years old, you can still look closely and see Dad's attention to detail. That car is as shiny and clean on the bottom as it is on the top.. many of the brackets and pieces he made himself because he couldn't afford to buy one.

Miss you Dad.

He said I was in my early forties
with a lot of life before me
when a moment came that stopped me on a dime
and I spent most of the next days
looking at the x-rays
Talking bout the options
and talking bout sweet time
I asked him when it sank in
that this might really be the real end
how�s it hit you when you get that kinda news
man what'd you do

and he said
I went sky diving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named fumanchu
and I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying
and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying.

He said I was finally the husband
that most the time I wasn't
and I became a friend a friend would like to have
and all the sudden going fishin
wasn't such an imposition
and I went three times that year I lost my dad
well I finally read the good book
and I took a good long hard look
at what I'd do if I could do it all again

and then
I went sky diving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named fumanchu
and I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
and I gave forgiveness I'd been denying
and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying.

Like tomorrow was a gift and you got eternity to think about
what'd you do with it what did you do with it
what did I do with it
what would I do with it?

Sky diving
I went Rocky Mountain climbing
I went 2.7 seconds on a bull named fumanchu
and then I loved deeper and I spoke sweeter
and I watched an eagle as it was flying
and he said someday I hope you get the chance
to live like you were dying.
To live like you were dying. 

Mystery Pooper

It seems "he/she" has struck again. Always without warning, cruel unusual, somewhat impressive, but definitely gross.

Let me take you way back to ... saturday. Fudd and Amy awoke to a large 'tootsie roll' in the toilet. The crime scene was very clean, literally, as there was NO T.P. in the the bowl. Grody you say? Yes, but a crucial clue proving the perp was proud of thier doo-ing, and didn't want any T.P. to hinder the viewing of said creation.

Of course noone in the household admits guilt, but after examination of the doors there is no evidence of forced entry. So, that means either it was an inside job or they knew the perp and unwittingly let him/her in. Hmmm...

Which brings us to this afternoon... after a hard day of moving, I glady slurped up a large drink courtesy of Sonic. Shortly thereafter I felt a sharp pain in my abdomen signaling that my blatter needed some relief. I went into Amy and Jenny's bathroom, lifted the lid... dun dun dun! The horror which I felt is undescribable. The smell I experienced was ungodly, and I may have nightmares. They struck again. Same M.O., nobody home, and no evidence of a flush. ( I'll spare you the details)

After the second incident, I think we have a serial pooper on our hands. Which makes me want to wash my hands for some reason.. (sick)

Beware, your toilet could be next.