Run! [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

Our code phrase for product/service-discontent is, “Write a letter!” (It’s necessary, when speaking the phrase, to use a thick Long Island accent, “Write-ah-lettah!”). Beaky taught Kerri to express her discontent when a service, product or experience is substandard. And, Beaky taught Kerri this lesson in a thick Long Island accent. So. There you go!

I can see it coming. I can see it in her eyes. The first time I saw my darling dainty duck turn into Nurse Ratchet was at a hotel. I was terrified at the transformation and ran across the lobby. I feared for the person receiving the complaint. It’s become my standard practice: run! Put vast distance between me and the expression of discontent with undertones of Long Island. Pretend to be someone else. If only we’d leave and, later, write-ah-lettah!

The most horrifying cartoon panel I have ever drawn is the last panel in this strip. She grabs his arm. There’s no escape. Oh dear…

read Kerri’s blogpost on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Travel Here [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

One of the cruelties of multiple daily zoom meetings is that, in addition to seeing other faces, you also stare at your own. “OMG!” I think to myself (of course- who else would I think to), “I look old!” The picture that I see on the screen does not match the picture in my mind. In my mind, I am much younger. “Some old guy stole my voice!” I shout to myself.

Here’s a strange bit of phraseology: I did not know our kids when they were kids. I came into their lives when they were already adults so I don’t have the memories of footie pajamas, bath time or back yard swing sets. During a recent visit with Craig, I realized that Kerri measures her time on earth relative to her children. She’s constantly reconciling the adult son/daughter sitting across the table with the infant son/daughter that she remembers like it was yesterday. “Where did the time go?” she asks, looking at her hands.

We’re all adults now. Well, even staring into the eyes of that dude who stole my voice, I’m cautious about claiming adulthood. I feel as if I stepped into a time machine that thrust me forward in time. I remember myself in footie pajamas as if it was yesterday. It’s ironic, isn’t it, that it’s in the last few laps that you understand the race is all in your mind and the real juice of life is in enjoying a body that can run. Or feel. Or sense. Or love. Or dance. Or hold the hand of the one you adore.

The advice I’d give to our children is the same advice I’d give to myself (and I’d do it, too, if that rat-bastard hadn’t stolen my voice!), “There’s no hurry. This race is not run on a line. It’s a circle. You’re not really getting anywhere more important than where you already are.” It’s a time machine to now.

read Kerri’s blog post about TIME MACHINES

smack-dab. © 2021-2 kerrianddavid.com

Say It Anyway [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

And so, we age. Together. Our bodies are changing. Our minds are changing. We met in our 50’s and often say, “I wish we’d have met when we were younger.” I wonder if that is true. I am a better person now than I was then.

She is Teflon when I tell her that she is beautiful. My words slide right off. I tell her anyway whether she can hear it or not because it is so deeply true within me.

My body aches. I am looking more and more like my grandfather and less and less like the man I expect to see in the mirror. But I know that the essential thing will remain intact through our entire apple-doll-becoming: jowls or no, she is beautiful to me. All the time.

read Kerri’s blog post about JOWLS

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Imagine The Dinosaur [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

I was 52 years old when I finally had children and, luckily for me AND for them, they were both adults. As I told Kerri, I was fortunate to become a parent when our children were already fully cooked. Just kidding. Or not.

We often speculate about what life might have been like had we met when we were younger. Once, on a road trip, we were making ourselves laugh hysterically with the names we would have given to the poor beings that might have had us as parents. We landed on Chicken Marsala and almost crashed the car. We pretended Chicken was in the back seat. He was voicing his concerns at our driving, snack choices, and need to stop so often [Kerri likes brochures…].

Having artists for parents left Chicken feeling a bit anxious. We found it somehow comforting to finally have a responsible adult present in the car with us.

read Kerri’s thoughts on this Saturday Morning Smack-Dab.

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Adore The Peeve [on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

One of my favorite Kerri-pet-peeves is spinach stems. Nothing will invite a rant faster or with more gusto than spinach with too-much-stem. “AHHHH! Stems!” she clenches her jaw, takes up one of the offending spinach leaves, and shakes it in my direction. “Who thinks this is a good idea!?” She narrows her eyes and looks my way, as if I designed the stemmy-leaf for maximum displeasure. I, of course, say nothing, keep my head down and eat my spinach.

A few years ago I lost a fight with a tick. In fact, I didn’t even know I was in a battle until my fever skyrocketed, my joints ached and I was babbling more nonsense than usual. We were on an island and after a few days of delirium, we took the ferry to find a doctor. The doctor ordered blood work and my panel revealed two problems. Lyme disease. Low iron. For the Lyme I received antibiotics. For the iron deficiency, I received advice: eat more spinach.

We may or may not have had spinach in our house before I took the doctor’s advice. I don’t think so or I would have known about the stem-peeve. I confess that it delights me. We have spinach with our breakfast. It hides under the potatoes which hide under the egg. “Oh NO!!!” Kerri cries aloud, “It’s spinach day!” And suddenly, my wife is 5 years old, pouting. That’s where my delight enters. I get to see what she was like as a kid. Knitted brow. Clenched fists. “You didn’t tell me it was spinach day!”

Her childhood nickname, I am told, was “Brat.”

I offer to eat the spinach by myself. After all, it is my deficiency. “No!” she crosses her arms and stares at her plate. A challenge. Solidarity. I offer to cut off the stems of her spinach. “No.” Bottom lip thrusts forward. Stem suffering brings absolution or builds character or…

Of this, I am certain: her spinach-stem-pet-peeve will be a future smack-dab. No doubt. I’m drawing the panel in my imagination even as I write. It’s too adorable not to share.

[20 tells me that real men don’t use words like “adorable” and he worries for my machismo. Of course, he finishes his admonishment by telling me that he recently used the word “cute” and finds that we two are brothers in the same club].

read Kerri’s blog post about STEMS

Note The Weather [saturday morning smack-dab.]

I’m the guy at the party that doesn’t mingle. I generally fall into a deep conversation with one person who is polite enough to fake interest in what I am saying. Kerri is trying to help me with my ineptitude. She tells me to “Gear down.” We’ve even developed hand signals so that she can communicate across a crowded room that I need to release my too-polite-listener from my diatribe.

At home, we need no hand signals. I know when I’ve crossed the line because I invoke an immediate hot flash in Kerri. It is my cue to hush up, lighten up or perhaps look up and note the weather.

read Kerri’s SMACK-DAB THOUGHTS

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Appreciate The Nectar [saturday morning smack-dab.]

My dad called coffee ‘the nectar of the gods.’ It has special properties that I am only now beginning to fully appreciate. The-nectar-of-the-gods was wasted on me when I was young. I didn’t appreciate it. I drank it for comfort and taste. Now I get it. Coffee is an essential survival beverage. The gods are laughing. We’re just trying to stay conscious.

read Kerri’s thoughts about COFFEE!

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Feed The Hunger [saturday morning smack-dab.]

I’ve often pondered what to call our middle-of-the-night meals. Lately, we call it our “3am banana.” I used to call it my “life preserver.” Over time, as my capacity to anticipate the feeding-moment has improved, middle-of-the-night-meals have become much less dangerous.

read Kerri’s thoughts about CEREAL WITH BLUEBERRIES

smack-dab ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Do More Than Watch [saturday morning smack-dab.]

It’s short. It’s precious. Both/And.

Live Life, My Sweet Potato stuff on Society6

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerrianddavid.com

Try To Understand [saturday morning smack-dab.]

…and my favorite part of this particular cartoon is that we had Mars/Venus disparity on what was funny about the situation. We lived the cartoon while writing the cartoon. You know the old saying: What is funny on Mars…

read Kerri’s thoughts on TRYING TO UNDERSTAND

smack-dab. ©️ 2021 kerri sherwood & david robinson