Dani Stone

I Hear Laugh Tracks


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Only My Father Would Have a Heart Attack on April Fool’s Day!

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Dad and Jacob – Both of these fellas had a big week!

Over the years I’ve heard a handful of phrases that have rocked me to my core:

~Your Grandma Gordon has stomach cancer

~Your baby’s head is right THERE, do not push (This was said to me during a routine checkup for my firstborn who wasn’t due for another 6 weeks. Surprise!)

~Your daughter has a rare brain disorder

~Your father has cancer

and last week:

~We think Dad had a mild heart attack.

The message was delivered by my sister, Melissa, via voicemail. As I sat in a Girl Scout meeting and listened to her explain the situation on my cell phone, the shrieks of my daughter and her fellow scouts faded away. Missie’s voice was deliberately calm because apparently even though I am the oldest of five children I also have a reputation for overreacting. It’s not uncommon for my brother to tell me, “settle your crazy ass down.”

My sister swears she left everyone the same kind of slow gentle voice mail message, but I’m betting she’s a liar-face. She could just as easily have been talking to a child, small animal, or someone who was heavily medicated. I mean, it’s not like I fall out on the floor and start shouting, “Help me, Jesus,” like a guest on Jerry Springer, but I am prone to bouts of uncontrollable sobbing at the mention of illness or accident so in hindsight, that was probably a smart move on her part.

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You Could Eat Off Our Pool, But The Colonel Would Not Approve

A few days ago, I wrote a post where I lamented about my son’s lackadaisical summer attitude, his obsession with Minecraft and how, due to financial burdens, we would be staycationing at Stone Casa this year. Thankfully, now we can add, “frolic in the water” to our list of frivolity options because the pool is UP, people. The pool is up and prepped and Dougie has finally given us the green light to enter.  Isn’t that AWESOME? Wait, I’m sensing you don’t realize what a big deal this is. Clearly, you don’t know what goes into the annual “raising of the pool.” No one does, really, except The Colonel.*

*In case you’re new here, The Colonel is the loving endearment for my husband when he’s being a little extra type-A. It’s okay. He knows it, accepts it and often refers to himself in the third person by using this moniker.

A few days ago I posted this message on Twitter:

If you build it, they will come. . .

If you build it, they will come. . .

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