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15th August
written by LS Girl

Below, are just a few of the things I learned from my parents.  It would be GREAT if you left a comment with something you learned from your parents.  Thank you for reading!  Here we go… Things I learned from Mom and Dad: 



How to shake hands (stiff wrist, firm grip, steady eye contact)

How to wear make-up (look like you’re not)

How awesome steamed cheeseburgers are (and how to make them!)

How to fly a kite (in a cornfield)

How to be an entrepreneur (and still be yourself)

How to dowse (although I cannot dowse, I know how)

How to be humble


learned from my parents



How to fold a fitted sheet (life’s biggest puzzle)

How to stand up for yourself (even though it took 30 years to actually do)

How to prepare your house for guests (lighting and music, they need attention, always.  Replace bright bulbs with 25 watt’ers, ALWAYS have music playing, adjust as the party gets going – sound up, lights down).

How to pick your battles (my mother made peanut butter crackers for 12 years, because I don’t eat sandwiches)

How to arrange furniture and decorate (keep the furniture away from the walls, especially the stuff you sit on, hang your centerpiece pictures at the eye level of a person about 5’9”)

Leave a comment!  What did you learn that you use every day, or that changed your life – or both.

*about the photo –  my father would ask me to fetch his slippers, and I would clomp through the living room wearing every pair of shoes he owned… “nope, those aren’t my slippers, try again” – I thought this was hysterical.

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  1. Cara Brook

    I love the last part about wearing all of your dad’s shoes! LOL!

    My Dad taught me how to be goofy, especially by talking to our cats as if they really can understand you!

    My Mom also taught me about standing up for myself and I, too, took far too long in my life to institute that piece of advice! Hmmm….

    And watching both of them taught me that you can disagree, and even fight, while loving each other at the same time 🙂

    Thanks for the blog, Lynn! Keep ’em coming!!

  2. Vandalay VanNostrand

    Among other things, my mother taught me how to lie ” Gee, we’d really love to come to your Easter dinner, but unfortunately all the kids have Chicken Pox.They’re itching and scratching and puking all over. Im so sorry we cant come”- And my father taught me how to swear: “That no good goddam sonofabitching bastard” My father also taught me a joke when I was little that I still remember:

    A guy is walking down the street on Christmas Eve, totally drunk and singing Christmas Carols at the top of his voice. A cop stops him for being drunk and disorderly and asks him his name. “Jesus Christ” the guy replies. “That’s not funny, especially on Christmas Eve,” says the cop, and he asks the drunk guy again for his name. “I told,” says the drunk guy, “I’m Jesus Christ.” “Look,” says the cop, “I’ll give you one more chance to tell me your name, or you’re going to jail.” “I’m tellin’ ya,” says the drunk guy, “I’m Jesus Christ, and I can prove it.” “Yea, how?” says the cop. “Follow me,” says the drunk guy. So the cop follows the drunk guy down the street and into a bar, and as they walk into the bar, the bartender looks up and sees the drunk guy and he says to him, “Jesus Christ, are you back again? And the drunk guy turns to cop and says, “See, I told ya’.”

    My parents taught how to do a lot of other stuff too, but computers do pretty much all that stuff now, so it was kind of a waste of time, really. Although they did teach me how to tie my shoes, and no stinkin’ computer is gonna do that for you. My dream is to one day have enough money to hire somebody to tie my shoes for me. Of course if I got those shoes that fastened with velcro, I could probably save quite a bit on shoe tying labor costs. Especially if those shoe tyers are Union. Thank you, LifeStuff Girl, on behalf of my self, my parents and my yet unhired shoe tyer (and the entire International Brotherhood of Shoe Tyers, if Shoe Tyers are in fact Unionized) for your fortnightly blog. I have learned more from one of your blogs than both of my parents have taught me over the course of my lifetime. Maybe if they had a blog, I might have actually paid attention to what they said, and possibly learned something. Ah well, live and learn. Or, live and don’t learn. I suppose in the end it doesn’t really matter, you just die anyway. That’s something I learned from my parents. They are kind of Existentialist/Nihilists.

  3. 17/08/2013

    THANK YOU VANDALAY! I appreciate your comment, and stories. It is good to have goals and I hope that you one day you no longer have to tie your own shoes, or even look at your feet (not that there’s anything wrong with your feet). Perhaps you learned a lot from your parents, but then they dropped you on your head (again), and you simply don’t remember all the wonderful things you learned from them. You are an excellent blog commenter, perhaps this is something you learned from your parents in the shape of “did you finish your homework?” and other questions moms and dads ask because they have to. If your parents did have a blog, you might be so smart that your head would explode, so maybe it’s for the best. Thanks again for commenting!

  4. 17/08/2013

    Cara…There is nothing wrong with talking to animals, or plants as if they can understand you (let’s all just admit that they can, but are smarter than us and do not need our silly language to communicate). Proof: I sing to my tomato plant, and two days ago the plant threw itself off the deck and into the window well. Those vines were right. I am a terrible singer. 🙂

  5. 06/09/2013

    Thank you for sending this great story! “Writing My Name”

    The room was dimly lit and modestly furnished. A sofa took up one of the walls. The center of another wall was occupied by a coal stove which was the main source of heat in the winter. It was the place we gathered. My father sat in the rocker, next to a console radio which was our major entertainment. We looked forward to weekly radio shows such as Gun Smoke, The Gene Autrey Show, and the Shadow. Small tables held a supply of various reading material and included a worn and much used prayer book.. Also, on those tables, were ashtrays and items necessary for rolling cigarettes. All of this belonged to my father. On the other side of the room was the stairway that lead up to the two bedrooms.

    And, there it was, on that wall below the stairs, my blackboard, chalk, and eraser. I drew so many great pictures. I know this because my dad always told me so.

    I was almost five, and everyday my dad spent time with me and that board….drawing..erasing and writing. It was his goal to teach me to write my name in cursive before I started school.

    He was so proud, and so was I, when I finally accomplished the task he had set out for me.

    My first school assignment in kindergarten was when the teacher lined up her students at the blackboard and instructed us to print our names.

    “Oh, Oh, Mrs Kramer, but I do not have to print, I know how to write”, I boasted.

    “Ok”, she said “everyone print their names, except Bernadine, she will write hers.”

    I quickly wrote and hurried to my seat where I smugly and patiently waited for all those slow printers to be done. In this instance, however, it was not the case of “practice makes perfect.”

    With all the practice and my dad’s good intentions,his writing method was not quite up to par with Mrs. Kramer’s.

    He taught me to write but the letters did not connect. The “r” just hung and did not connect to the “n”. The same with the “a”just hanging down, not connecting to the “d”. And so, every day thereafter, for most of the school year, I was the one last at the blackboard, trying so hard to connect.

    No, my dad never knew the problem he caused me. But, could it be that this is the reason I feel staying connected is so important and also why I leave so many things hanging????