In 1916, Anna Groll met Oscar Schmidt. And the rest is half of my history.
The Schmidts are a special kind of life preserver.
We like jokes: good jokes, bad jokes, new jokes, old jokes, older jokes, and jokes your great great grampa fell out of his cradle laughing at. We appreciate clever wit, dumb puns, and the corniest corn. We enjoy intentional and unintentional physical comedy. We love practical and impractical jokes. We like to make other people laugh, and getting our own family members to laugh is one of our favorite things.
Seriously, if we were in a situation where the sound of one tiny titter could trigger an avalanche that would kill us all, someone would tell a fart joke.
(And you know Joel just giggled at the phrase tiny titter.)
As much as we like to laugh, we like to talk. We are story tellers. We are enthusiastic conversationalists. We have this hereditary ability to take part in three to four conversations simultaneously, which comes in handy in a large family. Sometimes, after an evening together, going back out into the real world is like being in a bar when the music suddenly pauses.
I guess what I’m saying is, we’re loud.
We are a down-to-earth and practical people. We were taught to live by good, old-fashioned values. Do what’s right. Help others. Be kind. Tell the truth. Share your stuff. Honor your parents. Help with the dishes. Don’t leave your camera unattended at a family get-together.
And never ever ever forget that family is important — and that you are loved. From the day you are born til long after you leave this world, you will be cherished and adored, warts and all and always, no matter time nor distance.
And that’s a good counterweight for the merciless teasing.
If you’re not family, we won’t tease you . . . as much. But we’ll shake your hand and welcome you in and ask about your family and treat you like a long-lost friend. Even if you were only stopping by to take our order.
We presume jolly goodness in everybody. If you are a meanie or a sourpuss, you will confuse the heck out of us.
But we’ll try to make you laugh. And we’ll probably try to feed you.
We like to cook, and we like to eat, but mostly? We like to see other people eat what we have cooked. Bring us all together and we could feed an army. And send each soldier off with a leftover container. And a hug. And a story about Grandma’s donuts or Aunt Theresa’s nut rolls. Or Uncle Tom’s mashed potatoes, Aunt Margie’s green beans, Aunt Annie’s maple brownies, or Uncle Joe’s fried sweet potatoes. Or a time you picked berries at Aunt Marie’s and she put them in a pan on the stove and made the best jam you had ever tasted (or ever will). Right on the spot. Without a recipe.
And I’m sorry if I just made you tear up. Or feel hungry. But you know and I know there’s a crowded, bustling kitchen in the afterlife. And it smells like heaven.
Yes, we are also a sentimental people. And, despite a great deal of splashing about, our waters run deep. We know heartache can be survived. We know Goodness triumphs. We know the world isn’t perfect. We know Life can be funny. We know we are blessed and lucky.
We are who we are. Because sweet Anna Groll met Oscar the nut.
August 12, 2015 at 6:05 pm
So, every morning for the past 7 months, I have begun my valiant Last Stand Against My Fat Butt with a workout on the Wii Fit. Not because it’s the world’s best or most effective workout but because it draws me in as a willing participant. Then I swap disks to Just Dance because it’s fun and helps me lose weight.
This past Tuesday I got up, turned things on and . . . hrrm. Wii turns on, TV turns on, but switching the AV button (which normally switches from TV channels to Wii channels) gives me a blank and silent screen.
I didn’t have time to deal with it on Tuesday and was able to rationalize that a bit of par 3 strolling in the afternoon could count as a workout. Yesterday, fingers crossed, I tried again, and had the same result.
And so began a tale more convoluted than the tangle of wires behind my TV stand.
I checked and re-checked every wire, every connection. Unplugged everything. Waited. Plugged everything back in. Probably spent an hour or so checking connections, wiggling wires, and going back and forth with the AV button.
Read manuals. Searched websites. Scanned forums. (No helpful info.)
I began talking to myself. (No helpful info.)
Frustration had settled in at this point. Frustration irritated by the idea that a new TV or gaming console was not in the budget this month. Frustration compounded by an irrational but growing panic that if I couldn’t do my Wii Fit and Just Dance right this very minute, at my normal workout time, for the second day in a row, I was going to, at any moment — Poof! and a slide whistle and a noise like the stretching of a giant balloon — turn into Gilbert Grape’s momma.
It was also frustration multiplied by the torment of being a fairly intelligent middle-aged human faced with one of those illogical conundrums that only Technology can present. For example, I tested the Wii on another TV. It didn’t work. So I surmised the problem was with the Wii. I tested another gaming console on the TV. It didn’t work, which proved it must be the TV.
“So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me!”
Round and round it went. I did more tests. I used tools. I repeated,”This just doesn’t make sense” as if I were an extra practicing a precious line of dialog. Eventually, I reached the conclusion that my TV would have to be replaced. You might think it was an embarrassment to be the only kid on the block without a flat screen TV, but, honestly, that big old beastie from the last millennium was a source of something like pride. I was bummed.
After a bit of online price comparison, I headed for Target, where I discovered that TV measurements mean something completely different now and so spent way more than I expected but still had a good experience and walked out with a new TV. Well, actually, I walked out with my car keys; a nice young man walked out with my TV.
(Holy crap! Did I just use the phrase nice young man? Technology is creeping beyond my comprehension and I’m saying nice young man?)
At about 3:00 p.m., I got home and, once I got the dang thing unwedged from the back seat of my two-door car, I thought, “Hooray! The frustration is over!”
{Evil chuckle from the depths of hell.}
Through a combination of pushing, pulling, ingenuity, and gravity, I got the old TV off of the TV stand. Then, I got the new TV out of box, connected everything, went through the startup and . . . Son of a biscuit! It’s not the TV. It must be the Wii after all.
Although both options were within the realm of possibility at that point, I neither cried nor threw up. Let’s fast-forward about 20 minutes, and I mostly calmly decided that I would head to GameStop for a replacement Wii and deal with returning the new TV the next day. I got home and connected the new-old Wii to the new TV. And, Hallelujah!, it worked. Then, before re-packing the new TV, just to be certain, I switched all of the wires and connected the Wii to the old TV, and . . . I got the blank screen.
Ohhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
So, my dearies, there were issues with both the TV and the Wii. And I recalled that, on Monday night, the night before this all began, there was a crazy-close-by lightning strike. My neighbors lost power, phone, and cable, and I suspect lightning fried the Wii setup as well, which was plugged in and on at the time. I don’t know if homeowner’s insurance will help or not yet, but it was a tremendous relief just to reach a logical conclusion.
It was 9:05 p.m. I was exhausted to the point of giggles, shaking my head at a lost day, and starving for some dinner. But you better believe I worked out first, even if it did mean dancing among wires, manuals, packaging debris, and the spiffy new ottoman.
August 6, 2015 at 12:31 pm
In 1916, Anna Groll met Oscar Schmidt. And the rest is half of my history.
Life Preservers 
Must Wii TV
So, every morning for the past 7 months, I have begun my valiant Last Stand Against My Fat Butt with a workout on the Wii Fit. Not because it’s the world’s best or most effective workout but because it draws me in as a willing participant. Then I swap disks to Just Dance because it’s fun and helps me lose weight.
This past Tuesday I got up, turned things on and . . . hrrm. Wii turns on, TV turns on, but switching the AV button (which normally switches from TV channels to Wii channels) gives me a blank and silent screen.
I didn’t have time to deal with it on Tuesday and was able to rationalize that a bit of par 3 strolling in the afternoon could count as a workout. Yesterday, fingers crossed, I tried again, and had the same result.
And so began a tale more convoluted than the tangle of wires behind my TV stand.
I checked and re-checked every wire, every connection. Unplugged everything. Waited. Plugged everything back in. Probably spent an hour or so checking connections, wiggling wires, and going back and forth with the AV button.
Read manuals. Searched websites. Scanned forums. (No helpful info.)
I began talking to myself. (No helpful info.)
Frustration had settled in at this point. Frustration irritated by the idea that a new TV or gaming console was not in the budget this month. Frustration compounded by an irrational but growing panic that if I couldn’t do my Wii Fit and Just Dance right this very minute, at my normal workout time, for the second day in a row, I was going to, at any moment — Poof! and a slide whistle and a noise like the stretching of a giant balloon — turn into Gilbert Grape’s momma.
It was also frustration multiplied by the torment of being a fairly intelligent middle-aged human faced with one of those illogical conundrums that only Technology can present. For example, I tested the Wii on another TV. It didn’t work. So I surmised the problem was with the Wii. I tested another gaming console on the TV. It didn’t work, which proved it must be the TV.
“So I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me!”
Round and round it went. I did more tests. I used tools. I repeated,”This just doesn’t make sense” as if I were an extra practicing a precious line of dialog. Eventually, I reached the conclusion that my TV would have to be replaced. You might think it was an embarrassment to be the only kid on the block without a flat screen TV, but, honestly, that big old beastie from the last millennium was a source of something like pride. I was bummed.
After a bit of online price comparison, I headed for Target, where I discovered that TV measurements mean something completely different now and so spent way more than I expected but still had a good experience and walked out with a new TV. Well, actually, I walked out with my car keys; a nice young man walked out with my TV.
(Holy crap! Did I just use the phrase nice young man? Technology is creeping beyond my comprehension and I’m saying nice young man?)
At about 3:00 p.m., I got home and, once I got the dang thing unwedged from the back seat of my two-door car, I thought, “Hooray! The frustration is over!”
{Evil chuckle from the depths of hell.}
Through a combination of pushing, pulling, ingenuity, and gravity, I got the old TV off of the TV stand. Then, I got the new TV out of box, connected everything, went through the startup and . . . Son of a biscuit! It’s not the TV. It must be the Wii after all.
Although both options were within the realm of possibility at that point, I neither cried nor threw up. Let’s fast-forward about 20 minutes, and I mostly calmly decided that I would head to GameStop for a replacement Wii and deal with returning the new TV the next day. I got home and connected the new-old Wii to the new TV. And, Hallelujah!, it worked. Then, before re-packing the new TV, just to be certain, I switched all of the wires and connected the Wii to the old TV, and . . . I got the blank screen.
Ohhhhhh. Ahhhhhhhhhhh.
So, my dearies, there were issues with both the TV and the Wii. And I recalled that, on Monday night, the night before this all began, there was a crazy-close-by lightning strike. My neighbors lost power, phone, and cable, and I suspect lightning fried the Wii setup as well, which was plugged in and on at the time. I don’t know if homeowner’s insurance will help or not yet, but it was a tremendous relief just to reach a logical conclusion.
It was 9:05 p.m. I was exhausted to the point of giggles, shaking my head at a lost day, and starving for some dinner. But you better believe I worked out first, even if it did mean dancing among wires, manuals, packaging debris, and the spiffy new ottoman.
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August 6, 2015 at 12:31 pm Leave a comment