Team Steinkellner Town–Population 4: The Waiting for Emma Years

There was no “hide ‘n seek in the car” on long road trips.

There was no fifth opinion over the lunch option of McDonald’s or Wendy’s.

No one gave dog kisses.

No one came up with instantaneous nicknames that stuck like glue as if they had always been there.

There were no low, throaty chuckles that seemed to come from deep inside of a tiny barrel.

The Care Bears were a solitary joy.

People pretty much wore the same clothes they started the day with. Or at
least they wore them all morning.

Everyone started their sleep in their own beds. No matter where they could be found at daybreak.

No one “dressed up”… again… and again … and again.

The Baby Blue Cat was just one book among thousands.

We almost never heard the phrase –“Here I am!”

There was only one sun in our solar system.

Team Steinkellner was woefully incomplete but had no idea.

Guardian Angel Check List (Circa Xmas 1997)– Code Name Steinkellner Kinder

Emma loves to suddenly appear on top of the kitchen table and stand near the edge. Please be ready to catch her or at least break her fall.

Teddy plays with his Beanie Babies near the corner of the table. Please, make sure that he doesn’t clonk his head or gouge himself near his mid-section.

Kit likes to balance her soda can on uneven surfaces while she reads and those cans tip over easily. This always occurs in places where it is tough to get stains out.

(Seasonal note.) Teddy has a tendency to repeatedly remove the Beanie Babies that are decorating the Christmas tree which he almost knocks over. A lot.

Kit will climb anywhere — at any time– for candy. Especially, chocolate. Other than blockading candy from American shores the only solution is to be constantly on guard. If Kit seems to be casually leaving the room or she makes an elaborate excuse as to where she is going an alarm bell should ring. She’s after something sweet and it is not easily accessible.

Emma has been known to climb eight to ten feet from the ground in search of candy or cookies. Unlike Kit she will give no warning. And she is as silent as a ninja. On the plus side she’s somewhat easier to catch than Kit. Many times pleasant perfect pitch humming may give her away.

Teddy will tend to stick his hands inside his shirt so that if he does fall he will not be able to catch himself. A word to the wise.

Emma runs around in stocking feet which causes her to slip on the hardwood floors.

Emma likes to wear her mother’s clothes (primarily Cheri’s pink nightgown) which can and does make her trip. Have your catcher’s mitt ready.

Emma likes to keep walking backwards while she is talking to people even though she is about to crash into the wall. Every day she gets better at this but it is still no minor problem.

If Emma is alone for more than twenty seconds she can be found standing in the highest point in the room or whatever is the most dangerous area. Nothing seems to deter her. All one can do is hope and pray.

In conclusion: Emma is the quirkiest risk but each of them has disaster potential. Stay on your toes. Keep them from going to the E.R. (Especially, if their dad is home alone with them.)

Supervising Angel’s note: We’ve had ten Guardian Angel resignations since March. Please don’t be # 11.

Emma Steinkellner’s Pre-College Schedule Circa 1996

Wake up by 6:30 a.m. or sooner.

Cry or party with stuffed animal friends and then cry to be retrieved.

Take off diaper and all clothes to prepare for glorious day.

Cuddle with Mama.

Anoint all family members with a cheery “Good Morning”. (So they can start their day in the right frame of mind.)

Have breakfast. (Pizza, soup, vegetables, juice and a piece of somebody else’s bagel).

Go to the poddy. (Just kidding.)

Request breakfast video.

Yell until somebody takes me down from my high chair.

Pull all books off of the shelf underneath kitchen tv.

Have tears brim up and overflow eyes if someone tells me “no” concerning this action.

Go stick my head through square hole in that big piece of furniture in the hallway.
(Gee, that better be going to our new house. I may have to lay face down on the floor
next to it and cry just so they know what I mean.)

Take off diaper and clothes and play with blocks in the family room.

Begin second hour of the day.

The Man in the Moon: He Knows All and Tells All –When Asked Nicely.

I am so happy to have another inquiry concerning connubial bliss. Every one should get hitched at least once. Woman or man? That doesn’t concern the Man in the Moon.

The following is general advice for anyone thinking of tying the knot. It is the kind of knot that holds you fast. (It can tie you down or tether you from many a mishap. So, choose wisely.)

Pick a partner you will be happy to see at different times of the day. Breakfast as well as bedtime.

Most importantly they should have a sense of humor. Not necessarily about you but about themselves and any situation the two of you might find yourselves in. And there are some doozies. (Even a few concerning near death so don’t say I didn’t warn you.)

Your pal doesn’t have to have exactly your interests in life but they should be at least a little curious about your hobbies.

Tolerance is mandatory. If you believe in alien abduction they shouldn’t just roll their eyes and dismiss it out of hand. No one has proved this doesn’t exist. And surely it is as believable as most of the planks in the 2012 Republican Platform.

Be ready to compromise on how to raise the kids, the pattern of the duvet cover, the obligations to each others families and that’s about it. (I love that gag.)

Should you ever start losing a fierce argument with your beloved feel free to give me a shout out at #MoonMan.

FYI Monday’s tweet was supposed to be “Blue Moon”– Not “Full Moon”. Sorry.

The Queen of Chastity Has a Bad Day.

“How art Thou today. Oh, Queen?”

“Bad.”

“How so?”

“Don’t want to say.”

“Why, pray not?”

“Because it makes me sound like a bad spoiled person. Like someone who should not be Queen.”

“I assure you I will have sympathetic ears. I will listen with an open heart just as we all should every day.”

“Well, it’s just not fair. I have to be Queen of Chastity all the time. I have to set a good example. And I want to make everyone proud of me…”

“But…”

“I mean I’m great at chastity. But it gets lonely. I want a boy friend. Not just some boy who’s a friend.”

“Hmmm…”

“I don’t want to do anything major, of course. Cuddle and stuff. Mostly hold hands… maybe a little more. But
no marriage stuff. Just boy friend stuff. I’m so lonely and bored. No one likes me. Lakshimi has a nice b.f.
So does Saraswati. Even what’s her name– the Tortoise Avatar?”

“Kurma? I think they split up.”

“Well, now you know. I’m in the dumps and being the Q. of C. is just not cutting it.”

“I will consult the Divine Flame of Eternity and see what we can come up with.”

“Oh, thank you, so much. Boy if you were only three hundred years younger.”

“Ah, yes, my Queen.”

An American Family Circa 1942

Grace was about to enter puberty. Her bones were growing so fast that sometimes they hurt.

Mom thought that the dress she was wearing was much too busy for the occasion but it was too late to change.

Peggy never quite knew what to do with her hands during these shutterbug encounters.

Bobby hated that he had just lost his extra pair of specs. If he misplaced the pair he had on? Well, that was it.

Rusty had been running around all morning so his underwear was real damp. He could think of nothing else.

Speed was having another wonderful day. His breakfast had been the usual with shreds of cooked beef on top. His coat had been brushed so lovingly he felt like a regular “Best in Show”. He couldn’t wait to go strolling over to the Coopers who had just moved in next door along with their tan Lab, Ginger Snap. Ginger watched him like a hawk yesterday and that’s when he looked like a human’s breakfast.

That would have that dumb Spike, choking on his idiotic remarks in the park yesterday. Yep, it had been an all-time day and only promised to get better.

“Woof”.

The Last of the Late, Great American Massage Parlors

Krystal was the last one to leave on the day they closed what the girls called “The Gland” for the last time.

It was legally bonded by the L.A. Pleasure Licensing Board as the “Sybil Gland Institute of North Hollywood”.
(Formerly– “The Love ConeXXXion”, “The Kuma-Kuma-Kuma Chameleon Sutra”, “The Rub-a-dub-dub You Decide How Many in a Tub”,
“Clark Kent’s Metoppless”, “Seventy-SEX Trombones”, “The Live, Nude, Topless/Bottomless, Hot, Hot, Hot Horny Beyond Belief,Barely Legal Nymphettes and Phone Cards” and “Sybil’s Sex 4 Less”.)

Krystal was surprised at the tears in her eyes as the door gently closed behind her. (Though, it’s possible it was the lingering after effect of the heavy disinfectant in the air or the certainty that Doug was going to stiff her for last night’s over-time.)

She was going to miss the good times. The day they left that box of adult toys in the hot sun and it turned into a gloppy latex soup. And when it did Shondra played a hella funny “House of Wax” joke on Sheena. (Out of control funny when they had to call the paramedics. Well, maybe not to Sheena or Shondra but Krystal just about peed her pants.)

She’d miss a lot of the regulars. The guy dressed as Bo Peep. The giant Virgin with the big eyes. And, of course, that guy who was a dead ringer for Charlie Sheen.

But like the Bible says– all good things must come to an end. Krystal locked the door, dropped the key into the lock box, hopped into her Dodge Charger and burned rubber.

My-Pod: A Team Steinkellner Reverie

–

This is My-Pod. They are very funny. And you know how I love funny so I love My-Pod.

They are smart. Much smarter than I am. (Though, they don’t seem to realize it. So, maybe they aren’t so smart in some
cases. Or maybe they are trying to spare my feelings. That’s just how smart they are.)

They light up rooms when they walk in. I might light up a room but my filter has a bluer cast.

My-Pod are straws that stir the drink. Just ask anybody. I can stir a drink but I usually like to have one of the Pod with me if possible. (I am very smart in that regard. Almost as smart as they are on their dumbest of days.)

My pod are great readers. I’m a pretty good reader… to myself. When they read out loud it is like a Kentucky Derby with nothing but past winners in it.

My-Pod loves me. And I adore them. But then most people love them so that is not unusual. But for them to love me means they’ve got a screw loose somewhere. Maybe that’s what makes them human.

My-Pod are great writers. Every one of them. Even the baby. They can write rings around me. (I hear about people being able to do rings around people a lot. I’d sure like to see it some time.)

But here’s how I get around that fact and make people think I’m not such a bad writer after all.

I write about My-Pod.