Oh MY, Maybe Fogwaughism is Genetic!

Visited with #2 Son and family this weekend and had a GRAND time.  Quite literally.  The coming three year old kept us entertained and the baby is sure a happy little camper.

I do believe perhaps the #1 Granddaughter has inherited some Fogwaugh traits, especially in the Fashion Diva department.

I snapped this of her when she got ready to go outside:

I believe this photo has great possibilities down the road in about 13 - 14 years when she wants her first prom dress.  We can tell her she doesn't need a $350 dress to look spiffy and here is the Proof.

Baby Brother was dolled up for a day in the swing and quite the fashion statement himself in a polar bear cap, and suit with polar bear faces on his feet.

He is probably destined to grow up to become the Great White Hunter of the North bringing in the Moby Dick Bear from Yellowstone or something else equally important and famous.

"Nana, this is your fault. They both take after YOU not me,

 look at how you dress in those horse t-shirts and sweats," - #2 Son.

Yup, I'll take the heat on this one.

Fogwaugh's Life Biography

Fogwaugh's Originator, aka Hubby, is having a 40th High School Reunion this summer.  He needed a biography and I give it to you in it's entirety:

" I went to the Senior Kegger and Woke up with A Wife and 2 Kids."

The One and The Only Mr. Fogwaugh - several years AFTER the Kegger.

Always the kidder ain't he?  Once a Fogwaugh, always a Fogwaugh.  Or a Fogwaugh Never Dies.  Fogwaughs Forever...I'm sure there is a logo there for him somewhere. I must admit, though, life does go by fast.  Way too fast. Sigh....


Found the cutest little girl's purse pattern on Ottobre Magazine's website that I do believe #1 Granddaughter just must have! It's under the Free Link. I might have to get a couple of issues of this magazine.  It's from Finland but they do have an English version.   Hope to get the purse done this weekend and maybe one or two of my casserole carriers. I promise to post all this later when they are finished.


The casserole carrier came about because I needed a gift for a wedding reception and decided I wanted to MAKE something.  But I sure could not find any pattern I liked on-line so made my own pattern.  It turned out well but I neglected to take a picture of it before I gave it away.  However, Daughter In Law, said SHE wanted one so I am going to fire up the sewing machine and make several. 


In the meantime, check out Ottobre Magazine.  There are four children's issues a year and two women's.

So we part with a high-five to Fogwaughism!

It's a Fogwaugh Christmas -- Full of LIES!

Well of course, in America, most parents lie to their kids about those presents under the tree.  Santa brought them.  But if your child believes in Abner Fogwaugh, one must elevate the tale to Super Believable!!  SUPER.

Hubby started it even before we were married when he told Da Niece, who was about six at the time, that he didn't want no reindeer pooping on her roof, so he was going to shoot Santa.  That poor kid almost had a nervous breakdown.  She shadowed her Uncle everywhere for four weeks making sure he didn't shoot Santa!  I think she was relieved when Christmas as finally over.

Granddaughter #1 first Christmas - too young to be Fogwaughed!

It got rough on Hubby to make No. 2 Son believe in Fogwaugh, mainly because No. 1 Son was right there clueing his little brother on Dad's whoppers.

But mercifully, No. 1 maintained his silence at Christmas.

Hubby came up with the Christmas Eve 'drive to see the lights'. As we went out the door someone would duck back and put all the presents under the tree.  And we all enjoyed the ritual driving around our little community to see the wonderful displays of Christmas Lights.

Upon our arrival back home, we could hear sleigh bells (hubby's car keys) and Hubby would yell, What's that up there in the sky??"  Well of course, No. 2 Son BELIEVED with all of his pea-pickin' heart.  I mean he HEARD the bells every year.

Until Grandma arrived for Christmas when No. 2 was in first grade.  Grandma discovered No. 2 still thought there was a real Santa (he knew though that there was not an Easter Bunny and your parents put out the candy, now go figure).  "Oh Grandson", she told him, "You are too old to still believe in Santa."  After contemplating strangling his grandmother, No. 2 decided she was probably right and he probably should not risk being tried as an adult nor the death penalty (this is the future lawyer).

End of believing but No. 2 was an ADULT before he figured out how in the world his Dad managed the sleigh bell sounds every year!

HEY, Grandpa, I think I Heard Sleigh Bells!

Hubby is going to have a problem with the granddaughter.  She already has him figured out as she informed him he "is the silliest Grandpa in the Whole Wide World."

Merry Fogwaughing!  And to all A Good Nite.

Fogwaughism or How To Lie Your Way Through Life

After #1 Son realized at the ripe old age of four, that Father had a propensity for telling "Whoppers" and only resorted to the Truth as a Last Resort, we enter an age of constant verbal sparring in the house.

Sometime around Thanksgiving, somebody served peas at a family gathering.  Now  Niece had a false tooth, the result of a nasty bicycle accident in her youth.  #1 Son announced, "I don't like Peas" upon which Niece popped out her false tooth and proclaimed "I don't blame you.  Peas rotted out my teeth."

#1 Son's eyes widened and I'm sure he resolved to never eat Peas again as long as the Grass Grows and The Buffalo Crap on the Prairie.

A few weeks later, well into the Christmas Season, Father had had it with the Pea Refusal Brigade composed entirely of #1 Son.  "Eat your damn peas or I'll tell Santa on you" Father smirked.

"Oh Yeah!! You don't even KNOW HIM!" #1 Son scoffed.

Whereupon Father went to the telephone (pre-cell age here guys, we still had that thing known as a Land-line) and dialed up the kid's grandpa.  #1 Son's eyes were bugging out!!

"Hey Santa, I got a kid here who won't eat his peas."  I guess the Psuedo-Santa must have requested to talk to the defiant tyke as Father handed the phone over to #1 Son, who uttered a string of UH-HUH, UH-HUH, Uh-Huh, hung up the phone and without saying a ne'er do well to his waiting parents, ate every damn last pea on his plate.

Oh Crap, the kid's grandpa was a Whopper-Teller TOO!!!