Queen of the Foamers!

Some of you may be wondering what a Foamer is and why they need a queen. Well, I learned all about foamers when I first met Greg. On August 7, 1988, after our 10-year KU reunion picnic, he invited me to his apartment to look at his slides. Being the very worldly urbanite that I was, I figured this was just a new take on "come see my etchings." Turns out he really did just want to show me slides, which was really geeky since the only other person I knew with slides was my Grandma Mary. We looked at slides of train locomotives...lots and lots of them. Sometime during this ordeal he told me that guys who are train enthusiasts call themselves "foamers"--that is to say, they foam at the mouth whenever they see a train. Even as I write this, I still can't believe that I found this to be cute and endearing and that a year later we were married. Astonishing!

Anyway, back to the queen part. When Greg moved to Portland when we got married, he met some other foamers and started going out on Friday nights with them. When they changed bars (to one where the ladies room actually had a roof) I decided to join them. I soon discovered that while they were basically nice guys, they are all a little odd in one way or another and ergo there is a reason they were all single. Nonetheless, in either 1991 or 1992, I decided to throw a party on Superbowl Sunday. In spite of the hideous olive balls, it was a lot of fun and I've been throwing one ever since. Somewhere along the line I also started making birthday cakes for most of the guys and eventually I crowned myself Queen of the Foamers. They are really like a bunch of puppies--if you leave out food for them they'll follow you anywhere!

Over the years I've refined the menu (no more olive balls) and so I basically do the same thing every year--except last year and there was hell to pay. I'm going to slide in a smoked salmon ball and some asparagus spear rollups, but aside from that I'm sticking to the traditional baked roast beef and turkey sandwiches that have made me famous. Yes, the recipe comes from my sister, but they don't know her so I take all the credit for it. Hmmm....maybe the shrimp ceviche would work...

I'm hoping that Suzanne is in good form. The last time we saw the guys at the train depot was the weekend of the gurgling squirters--rotovirus. These are guys who aren't married and don't have children, so they are pretty scared of Suzanne. Not because she has Down Syndrome, but because she is a 3 year old girl. I don't really blame them--she smelled so bad and pooped all over the inside of the Explorer, which wasn't really the impression I wanted to leave with anyone. Maybe this weekend we'll get really cute and adorable Suzanne. Although if she lets out one of her man-burps, they'll probably get a kick out of it.

Kirk is thrilled. He is going to be in a play on Friday, his basketball game and a hockey game on Saturday, and the Superbowl on Sunday. He informed me this morning that this was going to be his best weekend ever. Kirk is a boy who knows how to enjoy his life.

Oh well, the Queen had better get off her throne and start a shopping list!