Another birthday shoutout, this time to my big brother Jim. Ready everyone?
Happy Birthday to you,
Happy Birthday to you
Happy Biiiiiiirthday, dear Jiiiiiiiiim,
Haaaaaapy Biiiiiiirthday to youuuuuuuuu!
We love you, Jim, and wish we could see you on your birthday! And feel free to comment on the blog, anytime! (Will your very own birthday shout-out inspire you to comment? Maybe? :) )
And for those non-McDonnell folks perusing the blog and wondering why there are some many birthday shout-outs?
It's because there are lots of McDonnells.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Happy Birthday Teresa!
Here's a birthday shout out to my beautiful sister Teresa, who turns 28 today! (Oh, wait, she turns 36 today? How the heck did that happen?! She's still just a kid to me!)
I love you bunches Teresa, and I know your happy, exuberant clan will give you a fabulous birthday. We wish we could be there to share it with you!
P.S. We loved John Paul's Star Wars cakes. Too cool! As is clear from Mark's post about Brennan's brush with airport security, we are huge Star Wars fans in the Schultz household.
I love you bunches Teresa, and I know your happy, exuberant clan will give you a fabulous birthday. We wish we could be there to share it with you!
P.S. We loved John Paul's Star Wars cakes. Too cool! As is clear from Mark's post about Brennan's brush with airport security, we are huge Star Wars fans in the Schultz household.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Brennan's First Brush With The Law
Hi all,
Mark here. Brennan and flew to Georgia to see the University of Georgia Bulldawgs play the mighty whatever they are's from the University of Central Michigan. It was Brennan's first flight, and first football game (as well as my first UGA game in about 14 years.) I grew up a mile from the university stadium and bleed red and black. It is the only team I follow in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health...
Brennan was chirpy with excitement about the airport experience, and I was explaining it as we went: confirming tickets, navigating the airport, doing the automatic ritual strip for security. When we were waiting for our suitcases to pass through the x-ray machine to us, I noticed the machine operator was giving some guy's bags a serious examination, moving the conveyer belt back and forth. Then he took out Brennan's bag and repositioned it on the belt for a look from another angle. Finally, he sent the bag through, walked over, and asked with an "I-mean-buisiness" face "whose bag is this?" "His." (I boldly pointed at my nine-year-old.) "Do you know what's in this bag?" he asked. "No," I said, and reached for the zipper to open it. He snapped at me not to touch the bag, and gingerly zipped it open, stone-faced. Then, he reached in, picked up Brennan's light saber, held it up for another security guy to see, and burst out laughing. I never before that moment noticed how very much it looks like a pipe bomb! With bateries and a retracted telescoping blade, bumps and dials and odd buttons all over it. Whew! I had no idea Brennan had packed it. I think I'll check his bags from now on.
Mark
Mark here. Brennan and flew to Georgia to see the University of Georgia Bulldawgs play the mighty whatever they are's from the University of Central Michigan. It was Brennan's first flight, and first football game (as well as my first UGA game in about 14 years.) I grew up a mile from the university stadium and bleed red and black. It is the only team I follow in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health...
Brennan was chirpy with excitement about the airport experience, and I was explaining it as we went: confirming tickets, navigating the airport, doing the automatic ritual strip for security. When we were waiting for our suitcases to pass through the x-ray machine to us, I noticed the machine operator was giving some guy's bags a serious examination, moving the conveyer belt back and forth. Then he took out Brennan's bag and repositioned it on the belt for a look from another angle. Finally, he sent the bag through, walked over, and asked with an "I-mean-buisiness" face "whose bag is this?" "His." (I boldly pointed at my nine-year-old.) "Do you know what's in this bag?" he asked. "No," I said, and reached for the zipper to open it. He snapped at me not to touch the bag, and gingerly zipped it open, stone-faced. Then, he reached in, picked up Brennan's light saber, held it up for another security guy to see, and burst out laughing. I never before that moment noticed how very much it looks like a pipe bomb! With bateries and a retracted telescoping blade, bumps and dials and odd buttons all over it. Whew! I had no idea Brennan had packed it. I think I'll check his bags from now on.
Mark
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