Why Pink Flamingos?

So my friend, Dana, who knows me, decided I needed a new background for my blog.

"Those polka-dots are just not you," she said, which is true, but it was the best this blogging impaired lady could do at the time. I had been pretty dog-gone proud of myself just to have a background, but, alas, it was true--it was so not me. Not the Wockenflock. So, because she loves me, she searched the world over for the perfect background, asked for my password and here I now have, thanks to Dana, the perfect expression of the wockenflock--stylin' Pink Flamingos. My favorite is the one with the daisy shaped sunglasses.



Now the real story behind Pink Flamingos



This will sound disjointed at first, but it pieces together. Trust me. Muahahaha



When I lived in the Baltimore area and my father was alive, he could come over, bring chicken and charcoal and we would fire up the grill in my back yard. We slathered the chicken pieces with Good Seasons Italian Salad Dressing and let it grill a while, then finish it off with Open Pit Barbeque sauce. It was heavenly. Fun times.

AND....

When the kids were little, they loved those whirly whing-dings that stick in the ground, their sole purpose being to simply enjoy watching their parts...well, whirl. One day, maybe my dad was feeling grouchy or something, but he made it clear , in a very cutting tone, loaded with vinegar, that he didn't like the whirlys in my yard and said," You might as well have a yard full of Pink Flamingos." Well, it made me kinda mad because it really wasn't any of his business and it was my danged yard anyway. What was important was the enjoyment of my kids. And he needed to mind his own business anyway. <grumble grumble..and I didn't like those pink flamingos myself either....parents...sometimes they just overstep the boundaries.. ...grumble....>



Well, my Dad took sick with cancer and it got the best of him. The first summer after he died, I was walking through the Giant grocery store at White Marsh, just feeling sorry for myself. I was shopping for some chicken to throw on the grill, the first barbeque of the season at my house, and was just expecting to miss my Dad's influence with the basting brush ,"More, more. Brush on more!!". I wandered slowly through the produce section, just feeling my sadness, and on toward the flower shop in the corner of the store, and then I saw it. It was a brightly painted wooden Pink Flamingo whirly wingding with whirrly wings that spun around and round and it was MINE!! I bought all 3 of them!!


and put them in my yard. They brought me joy and made me laugh and I got the message. I nearly forgot to pick up the chicken.