FeeFiFoto Blog

Public Service Announcement: How (Or Why) To Clean Your Refrigerator

STEP ONE
Prepare Jello in a large bowl according to package directions.

STEP TWO
Place bowl on a shelf in the refrigerator.

STEP THREE
Slam refrigerator door, causing Jello to slosh liberally.

STEP FOUR
Discover Jello puddles in refrigerator drawers.

STEP FIVE
Spend the next hour removing, washing, drying and replacing refrigerator drawers and shelves.

More Travel Excitement

Let's see -- where were we?  Something about traveling, Italy, noses...

Ah yes -- nosebleeds on parade.

Cupcake's nose can erupt like Mount Etna if you just look at it; it's a special power she has that we try to devote only to good.  So when my father hugged her and inadvertently touched her nose, the gushing recommenced. 

This time the tag team included most of the family:

• Armed with tissues and bidet towels (they were fresh! and clean! I swear!) Robespierre and I hovered over her as she lay on the floor, blocking our access to the bedroom and the bathroom. 
• My sister called a friend in the States, a doctor who happens to know everything about everything.  He suggested trying to locate some medications to help shrink the blood vessels. 
• My brother-in-law found an all night pharmacy (by now it was 10:30 p.m., Rome time, and I don't even want to think about what time it was according to our body clocks) and returned with pseudoephedrine pills and epinephrine ointment (bless those la-di-da, unregulated Europeans), both of which I'll be selling on eBay next week (KIDDING, Regulator People.  I'm just kidding.  Please don't hunt me down, cancel my eBay account and send me to prison with Bernie Madoff and Phil Spector).
• Robey asked the people at the hotel's front desk if they could provide a doctor.  The gave him an adapter (bless those English-as-a-second-language Italians).

What we needed:

Image here

What we got:

Image here

• My father and I loaded Cupcake into a taxi and took her to Rome's Ospedale Pediatrico BAMBINO GESU (lots of pictures of Baby Jesus there, you bet) for treatment of tre episodi di epistassi durante la nottata.  After providing Cupcake's name, birthdate and nationality, which the receptionist took down on a piece of scratch paper, we waited more than an hour to see medico richiedente Anna Maria Musolino, who told us (via a most likely extremely expensive phone call to Doctor Friend in the States, who, in addition to knowing everything about everything, is fluent in English, Spanish and Italian) that, since the nose had stopped bleeding while we waited she couldn't pack it, but I should bring Cupcake back the next day to consult an ENT, and could they please have the bed back because they needed it for the next patient.

Cupcake and I slept until 1 p.m. the next day.  Later she delivered personalized thank you letters to each family member, even my niece and nephew, who slept through the whole thing.

Their letter read somewhere along these lines:

Dear Stretch and Artypants: Thanks for nothing.  Love, Cupcake.

Now That I Think About It, The Nonstop Coughing Wasn't So Bad: Travel Crises

Some kids are chess masters.  Some excel at skateboarding, music, basketball or writing.

My kids are World Class Nosebleeders.

There are clear advantages to being the parent of an experienced nosebleeder.  Such as...

for example...

ummm...

Wait!  I know!

If someone you're with has a nosebleed, you'll know exactly what to do. 

Ta da!

A few years ago I had their noses cauterized.  I had to; our carpets gave the impression that our hobby was axe murdering.  Both have had to have the procedure repeated, and Cupcake more than once.  I try to remember to have them slosh Vaseline in their noses, with "try" being the operative word.

So we're on a plane to Rome two weeks ago. The flight is long, the plane cramped and inhospitable.  Five hours into the flight, Cupcake sneezes.

Buh Bye Sarah

Bye Sarah.  Have a nice retirement.

Hi Linda!

Fame Contest.  Enter here to win fame, and a gift certificate!

Photo Hunters: Pink

Scene:
Freshly made hotel bed

Characters:
White-Bath-Towel-Scorpion
Girl in Pink Dress

Action:
WBTS stings toe of GIPD.
GIPD dishes out the melodrama.

The End

Fame Contest.  Enter here to win fame, and a gift certificate!

See more Photo Hunters here.

FeeFiFoto Fame Contest: You'll Be As Famous As Michael Jackson, Without The Controversy

A Contest Unlike Anything You've Ever Seen

It's time once again for the FeeFiFoto Fame Contest.

You've seen contests to win beauty supplies. You've seen contests to win baby supplies. You've seen contests to win computer supplies. Now for something completely different:

Enter this contest to win FAME.  And a gift certificate.

You'll be as famous as Michael Jackson (again) but without having to keel over and leave chaos in your wake.

The winner of this contest will have one favorite photograph incorporated into a landing page on FeeFiFoto. Just visit FeeFiFoto, cruise around as long as you like, then come back here and leave me a comment about which item you'd like to see with your photo on the home page of my website throughout summer.  Plus, the winner of this contest will also receive a $10 gift certificate for a personalized photo gift item from FeeFiFoto.

Wordless Wednesday: Huh?

The airplane commode was too incommodious to allow me to get both of these nifty signs into the same shot.  Please forgive the fuzzy photos and allow me to narrate:

1.  Don't Drink The Water!

2.  Here's A Handy Drinking Cup!

I'm Bad -- Er -- Back

And let me just ask: Is US Airways constitutionally incapable of taking off or landing on time?

 Just asking.

And one more thing.

Ed McMahon?  Farrah Fawcett?  Michael Jackson?  Billy Mays?

Can't I leave you alone for just a few days without all hell breaking loose?  You thought I didn't know, but I get the International Herald Tribune and I know how to use it.

America, you're grounded.

I Had A Point But I Forgot It: I Think It Was That I Hate Being Forgetful

Don't forget: we're still out of town. This post originally appeared in April, 2008

I feel like I forget everything.

I'm tired of being forgetful.  It's bad enough that I forget where I put things, or where I'm supposed to be, or to bring my purse when I need to buy groceries.  Sometimes I remember what I'm supposed to be doing, write it down, enter it into my computer, and then don't believe my notation because I'm convinced I must be missing something.

Really, Dad, We Love You. Honest.: Dads Seem To Take Second Place To Moms

Happy Father's Day. We're still away but I'm reprinting this post that appeared a few weeks BEFORe Father's Day last year. Why don't football players ever shout "Hi Dad!" into the camera?

Search "Mothers Day Gift" in Technorati and, as of today, two weeks AFTER Mother's Day 2008, you'll find the phrase in nearly 20,000 blog posts with any level of authority.

Search "Fathers Day Gift" and, as of today, three weeks BEFORE Father's Day 2008, you'll find the phrase in just short of 10,000 blog posts.

**As an interesting side note, if you check these same terms in Technorati this year, the number of posts is about half of the total of a year ago.

No Time Mom lists all of three contests or giveaways for Father's Day.