Saturday, February 7, 2009

Grandfava!


As most of you know, daddy made me a mobile for Christmas that featured many of my relatives. He has asked me to write abrief description of each person's life, starting with Grandfava.

Grandfava is mommy's daddy. He was born in the 1940s in a far away land called Iowa; that decade was a wash for him. In the 1950s he dreamed of being a professional baseball player, but while he missed out on that he turned out to be terrific at girls' dodgeball. Grandfava was so good that there are still many adult women in Iowa with funny noses that remember him. Sadly Grandfava injured his shoulder while reading "Seduction of the Innocent" to learn which comics to burn, and to this day he dreams of opening the first museum dedicated to girl's dodgeball.

In the 1960s Grandfava went to war. After winning a competition with members of his platoon by spelling "doppleganger," Grandfava became a spy. He still keeps some of the advanced spy tools from the cold war. He has a pen that squirts ink on your shirt only to have it disappear ten minutes later. He also kept his fake plastic puddle of vomit - very important for a spy. In 1967 he was awarded the medal of valor for cracking the code of Petula Clark's hit "Downtown." Many men died after hearing the song more then ten times; this was considered a turning point in the war!

Grandfava came home in the 70s and went to school on the GI Bill. He received his degree in teaching people how to drive and to this day offers advice to many young drivers on the road.

Cora Elizabeth Goodwin Pape
Feb. 7, 2009

Thursday, February 5, 2009

MIRK the Great!


As you all know my daddy is a very famous graffiti artist, that's
right, his name is CRASH - no, I'm just kidding. Not a day goes
by when I don't say "Daddy, when will you paint my name on a
shirt?" He always says he'll do it but then he starts drinking the
Robitussin and the day slowly fades away. Then I put the blanket
over daddy and turn on the wii.

I never thought I'd get my own t-shirt until the other day when
the mailman bought us a package - daddy tipped him a quarter
and then opened it up. After letting me eat the wrapping paper 
he pulled out a beautiful shirt painted by a real graffiti writer from 
France named MIRK. Daddy said we should immediately put it on
ebay and sell it, that's when mommy came home. Mommy said I
could keep the shirt and wear it whenever I want.

Thank you MIRK, you're a better graffiti artist then daddy will ever be!

Cora Elizabeth
Feb. 5, 2009