09/03/2026
WARNING! Long one! But a good one!
I wrote a book about 20 some years ago, and recently stumbled across it again.
I thought it would be fun to share some excerpts here 🤗
after all, writing is just another form of art! AND- it’s funny.
Like super duper funny.
Sooooo you’re welcome?? 😂😂😂😂 I’m only kidding.
Have a read if you’d like!
It will most likely, at LEAST make you smile.
Or grin.
Or smirk!
I don’t know!! Ok??
Something pleasant will happen to your face!!
So here it is Chapter 1, part 3 🤗🤗🤗
ON A BUFFALO WING AND A PRAYER
By Kayli Renée
THE FABULOUS FIVE. 1
Family dinners at my house in my early years were a thing of beauty. My dad could cook. I hold my father personally responsible for my family’s rollercoaster of weight fluctuations. That’s a ride that could have a spot at Disney World. And I hate amusement parks.
It wasn’t just that the food was delicious, he created a whole ambiance. Grandiose decorations mounted the table, two tall candles ablaze. The house always smelled of candles, crafts or food. Normally just food, and there was always home-made EVERYTHING, to ensure all of our calorie counts.
My dad would then choose a CD from his Classical Greats Collection. The music would play softly behind our eating disorders, and we would pretend our family was normal all the way until after we said grace. My dad would then ask us what artist was playing under our meal. Jeremy and I never cared
who the artist was, and found the whole charade to be laughable. Zack, however, found some pleasure or
A sense of pride in letting my father know he recognized the musicians, and could tell them apart.
“Bach!” he would shout one night. “Chopin,” the next. Jeremy would lock eyes with me every time, as if to say, “God, what a loser.”
“Very good son.” My father would reply, smiling at all of us.
My mom sat there pouring non-fat milk over her baked potato. She was a health freak growing up. Let’s just say we
spent some time in the gym daycare. I, on the other hand, viscously tore into
whatever meal it was that lay in front of me. To keep things laid back, and NOT participate in the silliness of this stupid dinner, I let out a manly, and quite majestic burp. My father immediately darted eyes at me,
“Kayli that’s disgusting! Knock it off! Straighten up young lady!”
I quickly straightened myself up in my chair, with the flair of a theatre major. My dad knew I knew what I was doing. I
liked to get him to his boiling point. and I remember wanting to disturb such a corny family dinner. If my memory serves me correctly, that night I was sent away a quarter into the meal, where I proceeded to expel gases from my bedroom. God, I was a dream.