I was just thinking...

...how much fun snow is!

2010-12-27T11:20:00.000-08:00

Michael is enjoying the first good snow of the season. We had a few inches last week, but it turned to rain before he could go out to enjoy it. This time, we got over 16 inches by the time it was all done. Here, he's playing in about 10 inches of freezy kid stuff. What a joy! I love him more than anything in the world.

2010-12-21T15:17:00.001-08:00

Personalize funny videos and birthday eCards at JibJab!

...it's time for a boob update.

2010-11-08T17:47:00.001-08:00

It has been several months since my last confession...during this time I underwent two surgeries on my right boob, so many MRIs and scans that I have lost count, including a bone scan that involved injection of some radioactive stuff and another scan on my boob just before surgery that involved injections of radioactive stuff around the entire nip. Of course, I was given a "numbing" injection at each injection site, which stung like a wasp sting, but I hate to think exactly how painful it would have been without the numbing first. The surgery was the easiest part of everything.

I am now three quarters of the way through the chemotherapy treatments. I guess that whatever chemotherapy is used depends on the type of cancer, whether or not, and/or how far it has spread past the original tumor, and I don't know what else. I don't know what determines the number of chemotherapy sessions one receives either. One woman told me that she had chemotherapy over a one-year period--but that was back in 1994; I figure it worked because she is still alive. My cousin Ralph's step-sister just got done with chemotherapy and said it has affected her vision and her hearing, and now must use hearing aids and closed captioning and got a much stronger prescription for her glasses. She also said her fingernails peeled off, in addition to losing all of her hair, her eyebrows and her eyelashes. She said she looks like a Martian. But my daughter's friend Melissa's mom said after seven chemo sessions, she was able to go back to work, and that she was a little tired during the treatments, but that was all. She lost her hair and wore a hat.

I am wondering what is in store for me. I knew I was going to lose my hair, so my little grandson did his "cuttie cut" with his little scissors the day before my first session. I have a "five-o'clock shadow" on some parts of my scalp, and other parts are as smooth as a baby's butt. Since wearing a wig, however, I've had more compliments on my hair (7 so far in the past two weeks) than I have since 1967, when I was in beauty school and Joyce Calbow did my hair up in big curls. I have been feeling yukky often enough that it has put a dent in my voracious appetite, and I've been fortunate enough to have lost about 11 or 12 pounds so far. If I can manage to lose another 8 or 9, I will be very happy, and motivated to try to take off another 20 on my own after the chemo sessions are over. I feel like I've lost almost a whole bowling ball from my ass, and it really makes a difference in how I'm feeling.

Anyhow, I have lab work and chemotherapy on a Thursday...from beginning to end it's about six hours. Friday I have to go back to the cancer center and get a shot...that's another whole story involving pain and suffering. The shot stings just a little, but the side effects last 10-12 days, and during that time I feel worse than if my body had been thrown into a wood chipper. This starts Saturday along with the side effect of the chemotherapy...hideous abdominal cramps that feel worse than the final stages of labor. And diarrhea, that keeps me housebound until a day or two before the next chemo session three weeks later. This is why I don't feel like eating--besides the discomfort, what's the frigging point? Plus, there's not enough time between serving food and needing to use the bathroom. And by the time I get back to the table, I've lost my appetite.
But these are just bumps in the road. I am going to get through this the way thousands of other women do every year. They are a strong group--these women. Whenever you see one wearing a pink ribbon, or a sticker on her car, you ought to stand and salute. This is a tough war, and although there are many casualties, there are still many, many survivors.

Release: Sanders Cites Olbermann Suspension in Bid to Block NBC-Comcast Merger - Newsroom: U.S. Senator Bernie Sanders (Vermont)

2010-11-08T17:46:00.000-08:00

Release: Sanders Cites Olbermann Suspension in Bid to Block NBC-Comcast Merger - Newsroom: U.S. Senator Bernie Sanders (Vermont)

School Nurse: Barb G.'s Sexual Education Course (Episode 2)

2010-10-21T10:20:00.000-07:00

The School Nurse- Barb G. (Episode 1)

2010-10-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

....no more bad hair days for a while isn't such a bad thing!

2010-09-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

Short-attention-span Michael spent over an hour with his cuttie cut project. His daddy evened things up with shears afterward.

I forgot to mention that my surgeon was so awesome--she is one of two surgeons in this area who specializes in breast-only surgery. The difference between her and a general surgeon is the result--I came out of this surgery with a small scar on the side of my boob where nobody ever looks anyhow. I was so thrilled that I had a friend, a professional baker (Mayra Rivera) make her the best cake ever.

...boobie update

2010-09-25T10:08:00.000-07:00

In anticipation of having my hair fall out, my little 2 1/2-year old grandson, Michael, had the time of his life. I bought him some little kid scissors and let him cut off my hair. He went crazy, standing up on the kitchen chair. As he furiously snipped away, his mantra was "cuttie cut, cuttie cut, cuttie cut!!!!!"

Well, after several mammograms, needle biosy, two surgeries, countless MRIs, a bone scan, and more blood being sucked out of my body by lab techs than Bella Lugosi did to all of his victims during his career portraying Dracula, I completed my first chemotherapy session. The highlight of the chemotherapy was the thrill of not barfing. I was so frigging prepared for that...antianxiety drugs (also prevents nausea), a drug taken before and for two days following chemo, a drug added to the chemotherapy IV, and two different emergency pills to pop afterward in case the previous three didn't work. So, I still don't know whether it was the drugs, or just amazingly awesome luck. But I am thankful that I am two weeks closer to my "Forty Years of Barf-Free Living" Thanksgiving celebration (next February 21 will mark the date of the last time I puked). My next chemotherapy session is this coming Thursday...one down, three to go. I know it sounds weird to say I'm looking forward to it, but I am. The sooner I can put this behind me, the happier I will be.

...about the Don't Ask, Don't Tell military policy...

2010-07-14T11:33:00.000-07:00

From The Onion, my favorite source for news:
ArchiveNews July 12, 2010 | ISSUE 46•28
http://www.theonion.com/articles/repeal-of-dont-ask-dont-tell-paves-way-for-gay-sex,17698/

Repeal Of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell' Paves Way For Gay Sex Right On Battlefield, Opponents Fantasize

Says U.S. Defensive Dept.
10.29.03 WASHINGTON— "As Congress prepares to allow gay individuals to serve openly in the military, those against the proposed change voiced their concerns Monday, warning the repeal of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" could soon lead to strong, strapping American soldiers engaging in mind-blowing homosexual intercourse right on the battlefield.

"We're sending our soldiers out there with a mission, and that mission is to protect this country," said Rep. Louie Gohmert (R-TX), one of many conservative politicians who staunchly oppose the change. "If this is repealed, what's to stop all-night sex romps from breaking out while U.S. servicemen are hiding in a bunker, or crawling around an irrigation ditch bathed only by the light of the moon, or, say, the dozens of other situations I've already thought through in elaborate detail?"

"We can't allow this to happen," Gohmert added as beads of sweat collected on his brow. "It's wrong. Sweaty male sex—no matter how erotic and uninhibited—is so wrong and so, so naughty."

Despite its support from the defense secretary and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, the repeal has been condemned by many military officers who worry it could disrupt troop cohesion and endanger the lives of the taut young soldiers who have dedicated their lives to serving America with "every rippling muscle in their rock-hard bodies."

Others have argued that allowing gay soldiers to push their lifestyle on others, testing the limits of pleasure a man can take before he erupts in uncontrollable ecstasy, would seriously damage morale.

"The military should not be used to advance some radical, steamy, mouthwatering social agenda," said Rep. Trent Franks (R-AZ). © Copyright 2010, Onion, Inc. All rights reserved.

"Our men need to know they can count on each other in battle, and we can't have them getting distracted by illicit romantic dalliances," said Gen. James T. Conway, commandant of the Marine Corps. "Especially if one's a little blond Adonis farm boy and his buddy's a real tough street kid straight out of Brooklyn. I mean, think about it: What if they lock eyes and abandon their post to start ripping each other's fatigues off, revealing twin sets of glistening washboard abs and at last fulfilling their hidden passions?"

Continued Conway, "Is this the message we want to send to our enemies?"

Many active-duty service members told reporters allowing gay individuals to be open about their sexuality would result in great discomfort among platoons overseas.

"The last thing I need after a 12-hour reconnaissance patrol is to know I'm hitting the showers with some guy who might be checking me out and who might, after seeing what I have to work with, find himself wondering if I too long for the firm yet tender embrace of another man," Army Cpl. Dale Montgomery said. "So, in conclusion, what were we talking about again?"

Earlier efforts to repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell have failed, including a notable 2007bill to end the policy that was filibustered by Sen. Ted Stevens (R-AK), who over the course of several days repeatedly screened the gay pornographic film 'Thrill Sergeant' and demanded to know if his colleagues liked that sort of thing.

Repeal opponents argued that future combat missions might slowly begin like this scene from 'Trained To Obey'. This May, Sen. John McCain (R-AZ) promised voters he would do everything in his power to prevent gays from serving openly in the armed forces, and on Thursday, he told reporters that the role of the military is to defend American freedoms, not "the rights of, you know, those people some of us stay up all night thinking about as we toss and turn."

"Imagine you've got a boat full of sailors out cruising the Gulf of Aden when all of a sudden they're attacked. Some of the homosexuals lock themselves below deck and begin touching themselves," said the 73-year-old senator and Vietnam War veteran, his breath quickening. "One of their names is Ricardo. Unbuttoning his pants, he throws his gunner's mate down on the cot and penetrates him, his big, beautiful dick shimmering with power, his dog tags bouncing up and down as he's pounding, and pounding, and pounding."

Added McCain, "What I'm trying to say is: It all boils down to combat effectiveness."

When asked about his views on lesbians serving openly in the military, McCain made no secret of his position on the issue.

"Female soldiers being intimate with one another?" McCain said. "Gross! No, thank you.""

...what the hell?

2010-07-12T20:59:00.000-07:00

...two photos that make me happy...

2010-07-11T17:56:00.000-07:00

For my dear friend Mohawk Chieftain: I realize this is Navy, not Marines, but I know you will appreciate the theme. I saw this posted on a wall at a National Guard building, and searched until I found a copy on the Internet.

And for me...these Tibetan spaniel babies were born to Chloe in Richmond, VA, on July 5th, 2010. We are hoping to adopt an adorable baby girl. (Chloe went through hours of unproductive labor before having her two sons and two daughters delivered by C-section. As a mother, my heart breaks for her at the knowledge that her children will be taken away from her, and she may never see them again. I will be happy to take her daughter home for visits.

...should I share this news or not?

2010-07-11T11:41:00.000-07:00

I have been seriously considering whether or not to write about this next subject, not that I'm afraid to, I just don't know where to start, and I'm not fishing for sympathy. So I'll start at what feels like the beginning.

My mom was born in December 1919, which would make her 90 years old right now...if she had not died when she was 72. Mom started showing symptoms of what I believed to be Alzheimer's disease when she was 59 -- 2 years younger than I am right now. Things she started doing made me think, "Whoa! This is so unlike my mom." From age 59 to 68, those little things seemed to increase in number and severity. My mom before: (1) ironing everything, including my dad's underwear; (2) vacuuming, sweeping, dusting, mopping every day; (3) extreme (almost obsessive/cumpulsive) organization -- she alphabetized canned goods; (4) our appliances looked showroom new; and (5) you could eat out of the toilet using her gardening tools. My mom when I started to get creeped out: (1) fingerprints on the sliding glass door that would have generated an entire window-washing frenzy, were wiped off (and none too well) with a balled-up tissue; (2) not pre-washing dishes before putting them into the dishwasher (something I had long rolled my eyes over). Dad either didn't notice it, or chose to ignore it. As time progressed, however, the symptoms became very apparent to anyone who knew my mom...(1) cobwebs on the chandelier (I pointed it out, and then pointed it out again the following YEAR when we went to visit again); (2) the refrigerator that used to look like a store display, was filled to overflowing, however much of the food was spoiled; (3) items jammed into the linen closet, where they used to be ironed and then folded and stacked with military precision; (4) turning the stove on high and walking out of the room; (5) driving an hour on a hot Arizona summer afternoon with the windows rolled up in her car...she said the AC was broken -- she'd forgotten to turn it on; (6) driving her car and getting lost on a deadend road in the desert; (7) forgetting all of us; and(8) forgetting how to chew, swallow, talk, walk).

There are many more examples of the nightmare of Alzheimer's that my parents lived through for the four years from the first noticeable symptoms, until Mom finally had a stroke and died at age 72. Mom was the baby of nine kids. Her brothers Jim, Henry (or Ben...I can't remember which one), and sister Ada all died of Alzheimer's. As a result, I have been focused on any symptoms I may have...focused, totally focused by examining everything I do, and I do mean everything. I look at my messy underwear drawer...if I realize it is messy, does the messiness count, or the fact that I realize it is messy mean I'm okay and just busy with my little grandson? My garage is a mess...is it Alzheimer's or the fact that my husband still won't build me more shelves for me to put stuff on the problem...and the fact that Matthew still has a ton of stuff here even though he moved out over a year ago? I look at myself in the mirror, and see that as I'm getting older, I am looking more and more like my maternal grandmother, and creepily like my mom did during her Alzheimer's years. Do I just look like my mom and her mom as I am aging? Or is it a sign that I'm done for??

So, as I was busy focusing on my impending doom of Alzheimer's disease, I went in for my annual (at this age, seeing the doctor when one is not sick) checkup, PAP smear, and mammogram. So, while I was peering through my spyglass, binoculars, and microscope at my possible symptoms, I got whacked upside the head with the discovery of a cancerous tumor in my right beebala boobala. First I cried. Not sobs, just feeling my throat constrict and my eyes well up with tears. I apologized to the radiologist for making him feel uncomfortable and hoped a tear wouldn't run down my face and land on his desk. Pam, the technician who has been handling my beebs for the past 20 years, gave me a hug, gave me the name of a surgeon, and sent me on my way to see my regular doctor (office upstairs from the labs) who was expecting me. Dr. Choi, always professional, friendly, and polite, but not the kind to give me a hug and say everything would be alright, said, "You know that you have breast cancer, and I'd like to set you up with a surgeon for a consultation. Do you have a surgeon?" Like I need one for Alzheimer's disease. No I don't have a surgeon...you've been examining my body since 1990...wouldn't YOU know if I had ever had a surgeon? (I thought, not said) So I gave him the name that Pam had given me. This was a week ago last Friday.

The surgeon was able to squeeze me in on Monday, although I did have to sit for 1 1/2hours in the waiting room. I thought, "maybe she was able to squeeze me in because one of her patients died..." As I sat their, I saw some of her post-op patients coming in for their appointments...wearing big gauzey-looking bandages where there used to be a boob... My intestines were in a knot, I was sweating like a racehorse, and my stomach was churning, I felt dizzy, holding back tears--not for me, but for those women who probably started off like I did..."I see something suspicious on your mammogram." And now they are shuffling through the doors like zombies, with bandages and tubes.

The surgeon, I imagined, looked like Kathleen Bates in "Misery." With a personality like Mel Gibson or Bill O'Reilly. However, when I met Dr. Reed, I found that my concern was misplaced. Fear of an evil, slash-happy surgeon was replaced by a different anxiety...Jennifer Reed is young enough to be my daughter. Probably younger than Meeghan. I thought she was a nurse's aid when she bounced into the room, with her petite, but tall body dressed in sandals, skinny black pants, a turquoise blue beaded almost-halter top, and a smile as wide as a billboard. With her long blonde hair in a ponytail. How could she have made it through college, four years of medical school, plus rotations, and surgical residency, AND have practiced medicine for the past three years?? And look like she's still in high school?? Cheating? Not. A prodigy? I think so. And her personality put me immediately at ease. If I'm going to have my boob lopped off, I'd rather have her do the honors...her mom is about my age, and I told her to treat me like she'd treat her own mother...(I hope they have a great relationship).

So, first I underwent another ultrasound session, where she and the technician could get a closeup idea of what they were dealing with, followed by four or five injections of pain-killer (lidacaine--not sure of spelling...felt like novacaine injections from the dentist). After that, she used a scalpel and made an small incision, then using a large-bore needle (which looked almost like a grease-gun, but cleaner...plus I didn't feel a thing), withdrew about four plugs of tumor with surrounding flesh, using the live ultrasound image as a guide. I would love to have watched, but couldn't see the screen from where I was laying. She explained what she was doing and seeing, and after I was bandaged (a little criss-cross piece of surgical tape, covered with a two-inch piece of rolled up gauze, and held in place wih two larger pieces of surgical tape), asked if I wanted to see the tumor before she sent it to the lab. Being addicted to "Life in the ER" and other shows like that (in addition to the news), of course I said yes.

I don't know what I expected...the first mammogram (that Pam, my beebala boobala guardian angel did) and ultrasound showed an irregularly shaped black spot. But what I saw was like a centimeter-long tube-shaped (about 1/8th inch thick) piece of raw chicken meat--my flesh--with an attached piece of tumor that was the color and texture of chicken fat. All I can say is thank goodness for the medical technology that allows doctors to diagnose tumors. The lump itself feels small--Dr. Reed said that it's the size of a peanut (NOT in the shell--my initial thought w/reaction that she was quick to calm). She said, as she suspected, it was cancerous, but needed to send it to pathology for further testing. Testing?? You see it's cancer.

The next day I was back in her office with my good friend Milissa, a nurse, whom I knew would be able to translate medical mumbo-jumbo into words I could comprehend. No waiting this time, we went into her office, where she'd assembled a 1 1/2-inch thick notebook with just about everything I could possibly want to know about breast cancer. She went through the book almost page-by-page. I could ask as many questions as I wanted. My appointment was for 4pm, but we talked until 6:30. I found out things I didn't know about breast cancer, some good, some great, some depressing. From personal knowledge, breast cancer can spread to your brain and kill you, to your bones or internal organs and kill you...not quickly like a bullet to the head, but long, and grotesque like Alzheimer's but without the blessed memory loss, and all the pain of a torture chamber. Why me? I was expecting Alzheimer's, not breast cancer.

Then she showed me pictures of women who had had radical mastectomies...complete amputation of one or both breasts. Would my husband EVER want to get near me again? Even if I stayed dressed from the waist up? Then she showed me those same breasts after reconstruction...some scars (not big gaping, jagged scar tissue, only some lines)...with nip reconstruction. How do they do that? Skin and tissue taken from that little roll of fat--love handles--that I've been trying unsuccessfully to get rid of...they may come in handy afterall. Where the hell did they get pink tissue for the nips? From my twat? NO! (whew!!!). The skin is twisted around in some miraculous way to look like a nip, then tattooed to match the other side. Except for the narrow lines of scar defining where the boob had been pieced together, a great reproduction. That is encouraging. But I won't know until I am asleep in the surgical suite...actually, I won't know until I come out with or without a bandage the size of a loaf of bread. I do know I will have to undergo radiation...15 minutes a day, FIVE days a week, for 6 to 7 weeks. Then hormone therapy for the next five years. IF I am lucky, and the cancer is confined to the tumor and hasn't sent any cancer-cooties to nearby lymph nodes--I will have a "lumpectomy" where the tumor and surrounding tissue will be scooped out, and I will be left with a dent and small scar. With my small boob size, the dent will actually look more like Meteor Crater...scarcely noticeable on someone like Pamela Anderson...followed by the radiation. If it has spread to the lymph nodes under my arm, or if they discover anything in the other boob when I go in for the MRI tomorrow afternoon, I will end up looking like one of the women I saw shuffling down the hall. And then I will end up having to have reconstructive surgery, and following the radiation, I would require chemotherapy.

Not happy about the prospect of undergoing chemo...I can deal with the frigging hair loss...it's falling out already from old age. The good news is I bought a wig a few years ago, but only wore it once...the hair is so thick that my friend/catering partner Vicky knew it was a wig and told me it looked like a small mammal was sitting on my head. So it's in a drawer in my dressing table. Mallory's friend Naja has a bunch of wigs--that's why her hair always looks perfect! That was my motivation for buying it...so in the hair department, I'm good to go. Maybe it was a sign that I missed. It's my barfaphobia that is scaring the shit out of me. Chemo = nausea...my greatest fear. Dr. Reed promises drugs (wish it was "medical" marijuana) to control that.

I know breast cancer won't kill me instantaneously like a good old-fashioned heart attack, so I am grateful that I will have at least a few more years with my family before I croak. As long as Alzheimer's disease doesn't sneak up on me while I'm checking out my titties, and whack me upside the noggin.

...what a good mommy Aunt Mallory will be someday

2010-07-03T13:41:00.000-07:00

...about the significance of July 4th in my family...

2010-07-03T13:36:00.000-07:00

“’4th of July’ sales“, long weekend , fireworks, barbeques…

I’ll be remembering ancestors Pvt. John Bliss Jr, John Bliss Sr, Adoniram Grant, Capt. Hope Lathrop, John Chamberlain, and Lt. Abner Chamberlain; who (against all likelihood of success) risked their lives, everything they owned and everyone they loved, and won... Independence from the most powerful country the world had ever known.

...I can't stress enough grammar's importance:

2010-07-03T13:14:00.000-07:00

Capitalization is the difference between helping your Uncle Jack off a horse & helping your uncle jack off a horse.

...last night I wrote a paper for my sister....

2010-07-03T13:12:00.000-07:00

...it was on fetal alcohol syndrome. Very, very depressing...Now I need to go and pour myself a drink.

...this is hilarious...but I didn't write it.

2010-07-03T13:08:00.000-07:00

As my youngest daughter would text, LMAO! So I hope you LYAO...

Read this article in "The Onion"

What The Hell Am I Supposed To Do With All These Constitutional Rights?

http://www.theonion.com/articles/what-the-hell-am-i-supposed-to-do-with-all-these-c,11463/

By Bryan Rittgers
April 28, 2009 | ISSUE 46•26 ISSUE 45•18

Too much of one thing can cause a person a lot of stress, and you know what's stressing me out? All these rights guaranteed to me by the U.S. Constitution. There's like—how many—a couple dozen? And they keep adding more! Isn't that a bit much? I'm just a simple man who likes simple things, and I can tell you right now, there's just no way I'm ever gonna need all those constitutional rights.

Did anyone even ask me if I wanted all these rights? No, they did not. And, to be honest, I'm a little chafed about it. It's hard enough keeping up with the bills in my mailbox without some huge Bill of Rights hanging over my head. People are always talking about rights, or protecting them, or trying to get me to exercise them. Enough already!

God, I feel like I'm being suffocated by personal liberties.

I've got rights coming out my ass. Seriously, have you looked at the Constitution lately? It's like a giant to-do list of all these annoying, super-specific rights we're all "entitled" to. And right there at the top is the right to free speech. Great, so now I got to think of something to say? Thanks but no thanks. When I want to say something, I'll let you know. I don't need a right to tell me.

Take the right to bear arms. Yes, there are times when you need a gun, but most of the time you don't. So why go to all the trouble of writing it down and making everyone sign it? Just so I know how many people I'm disappointing when I don't use it? I don't even like guns, but sure enough, I've got three of them, right there in my closet. Where I've been granted the right to keep them.

And another thing, there are way, way too many amendments. They've got so many, they've started protecting me from stuff I might actually like. Like quartering soldiers. Are you kidding me? I can't quarter a soldier? Who doesn't like a houseguest? I've got an extra bed, and my motto is "Mi casa es su casa." Just bring a six-pack and we'll make spaghetti.

Another one that could go is the protection from search and seizure. First off, I got nothing to hide. I know I'm innocent, so you aren't going to find any evidence against me unless you plant it. Second, I don't need someone to protect my stuff. If you start messing with my property, I'll call the police. Plain and simple. Then won't you look stupid.

Right to a speedy trial, right to petition, freedom of religion—on, and on, and on it goes. I'm over 40 now, so there are probably some in there I'm never even going to use. Look at me. Do I really need the right to assemble? I can barely get my ass off the couch to go out to breakfast with my friend Jerry once a week. And Lord knows Jerry isn't going to use his right to assemble anytime soon. He still lives with his mom.

So there's two rights to assemble going to waste already, and I'm supposed to feel all guilty about it.

It would be a lot easier just to split them up, and give some of the people some of the rights and other people other rights. That way they all get used, and nobody's left with a bunch of unused rights, looking like a total idiot. Or maybe we could just have one per-sonal freedom per day. That way you could express your freedom of religion on Monday, and on Tuesday you could move on to your protection from self-incrimination, and so on. At least that would be manageable.

Look, all I really want to do is live my life and pursue a little bit of happiness, but it's almost impossible with all these rights gumming up the works. Why not get rid of the useless ones and replace them with some new rights we can actually do something with? Like the right not to get a million text messages from your insane ex-girlfriend, or the right to a clean bathroom at the gas station, or free Netflix for everyone.

You know, something all Americans can agree on.

...I haven't written about my granddaughters lately...

2010-05-17T08:50:00.000-07:00

Mallory and her boy friend George spent two weeks out in San Diego. In this photo, are my daughter Meeghan, her husband, Mike, and my three granddaughters, Sarah (the oldest), Ariel (middle), and Rachel (youngest). They went on a whale-watching cruise, and all except Mike felt a little seasick. This was the "before" photo.

The three girls, and my grandson Shamiq all have birthdays in June, and Sarah's 8th grade graduation is the following month (she's in a school with year-'round classes). We hope to have enough money (don't know from where) to fly out there and surprise her (Mallory and Michael too), but don't know if Matthew will be able to afford the trip and our money can only stretch so far.

...that since Michael is sleeping, I should keep writing.

2010-05-06T15:20:00.000-07:00

More pictures of Michael. Is this family obsessed with this little butterbean or what? Meanwhile, our oldest granddaughter, Sarah, graduates from middle school in July. Ariel emailed me to say she's saving money for our tea room that she wants to co-own with me ($57 so far). And Rachel just went through testing, and was identified as "gifted" with a score of 99.4%. I guess you call it a score. It means she's further along (I'm not sure in what subject areas) than 99.4% of her classmates. She lives in California, so does that count? She still has a little attitude, however.

...about what we did today...

2010-05-06T15:05:00.000-07:00

So right now Scott is feeding his fish, Michael is drinking a glass of chocolate milk, dozing off, and watching The Nightmare before Christmas (which he calls "Habadee"). Toward the beginning of the movie, the main character, Jack Skellington sings a song about, "This is Halloween." Michael understands it as "This is Habadee," and now refers to the movie as Habadee. His head is tipping over and his eyelids are fluttering until there's a loud sound. Wish I could reach my camera.

Today we took Michael for his second haircut (see the photo). And afterward we went to lunch at the Olive Garden, where Michael discovered he likes calamari, garlic bread dipped in olive oil and fresh basil, pasta fagiole soup (not sure of spelling) and then he ate half of my tiramisu.

It's about 90 degrees out, so as soon as we got home I came inside where it was cool, and Mallory and Scott ("Grmpa") took him out to play in his pool. See the photo. He's so frigging cute we can hardly stand it.

Okay, so I'm trying to get back on track...

2010-05-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

So, yesterday was Cinco de Mayo; I think this has to do with a battle...it's not Mexico Independence Day. BUT, it is an excuse to eat Mexican food, which I love. My mom's side of the family is from far, far southern Arizona, and so she grew up eating this stuff. All of my relatives cook this kind of food, and so I naturally look for any excuse to fix and eat it. For three days I've been preparing meat and green chili & cheese tamales (not hard, but time-consuming), cooking chicken to put into flautas, soaking pinto beans for frijoles, making guacamole, pico de gallo, Mexican rice, and pasteles con tres leches. I know I'm forgetting something. Anyhow, I put out a *few of the decorations I could get my hands on since someone shoved a bunch of stuff into my catering storage shed (in front of all of my rubbermaid containers, and actually had the BALLS to move my bins around so that the things I use more often were all the way in the back). *There were piles and boxes of Halloween decorations, boxes of Mallory's things, and her boyfriend George's bulletproof vest from when he was in the Marines, among other things. So, anyhow, Mallory and George, Matthew and Crystal and her son Tonic, and Scott, Michael and I ate until we could barely move. Oh, and Michael's favorite babysitter, Allie came too. And I just remembered the other food...ceviche (marinated fish), and to drink--Sangria. I'm going to try to post a picture that Mallory took with her phone camera of the food. Let's see how that goes:

cheese & crackers!

2010-05-05T14:08:00.000-07:00

Cheese & crackers, it's been a long time since I entered something on my blog. Thanks to someone who remains unmentionable for reminding me just how long. Something to do with Moses crossing the desert.

Michael is now two years old and is growing fast and becoming more articulate each day. He listens to everything and likes to repeat trash talk he hears from his Aunt Mallory.

Just the other day he went to swipe a piece of candy from the dish on the dining room table, and found that I had moved it. He pounded his fist and said, "Damn it, Grandma, I want candy NOW!" Just like his aunt.

...that it was just summer...

2009-10-14T09:52:00.000-07:00

I don't know where the summer went. The last time I stepped out in the back yard, it was too frigging hot and I made a U-turn at the bottom step and came back inside. Our AC has been on non-stop since May, and last night, mercifully, I was able to turn it off and finally open the windows! It got down to 55 last night, and I finally almost slept through the night. When we woke up this morning, our room was "camping chilly." Our grandson, Michael, is now in a new toddler bed, and sometime during the night woke up and raced across the hall to our room. He inserted himself right between Scott and me, and we each hung on to the edge of the mattress on our respective sides of the bed, while the little twink stretched out between us, with his head pressing against Grandpa's chest, and his feet kicking me in the face. We love the early morning, when Michael wakes up, snuggles in between us, hugs us both, and carries on a conversation with us even though we don't know what in the world he's saying.

His Aunt Mallory and I took him shopping yesterday for a Halloween costume. The dinosaur costume that Mallory found for him didn't fit right, but he ended up very satisfied with the skeleton costume that his favorite aunt sprung for. It seems like adults have become much more involved in Halloween than kids. We went to three different stores (some of these Halloween stores open for just September and October), and there were very few costumes for little kids; the majority were for adults. But he's happy. He wore the little mask all evening, and didn't even want to take it off for eating.

Scott and I began a diet the day before yesterday. I've been "pleasantly plump" for 21 years, and have managed over the past five years to lose a little weight and keep it off. Scott, on the other hand, has weighed 155 pounds since high school...he's now 50. He quit smoking (thankfully) this past January, and I think now that he can actually taste food, has been overeating. He weighed himself over the weekend, and was horrified to see the scale read 200 pounds. His tummy is chubby, and he decided to diet starting on Monday. Saturday and Sunday, he decided it was wrong and too tempting to keep fattening food in our house, so he polished off a couple of 2-liter bottles of soda, a few bags of chips, and five half-gallon cartons of assorted chocolate icecream flavors. We are eating salad (let's see how long he sticks with this diet).

My cousin Bill is living in France right now, and he and his partner seem to spend every day cooking. I don't know what they do for a living, because I see photos of beautiful homes they own in France, England, and Connecticut, and of beautiful scenery, or cozy get-togethers. They have a group of friends, that according to the photos he posts on Facebook, whose main activity in life is to eat or cook, or cook and eat elegant foods. It is extremely hard for me to eat a salad, and then look at his photos.

Michael just woke up from his nap and it is time to fix him a nice yummy lunch. I'm already sick of salad, and think maybe I'll see if he will share his chicken noodle casserole with me, and diced peaches.

...I can't believe it's autumn already...

2009-09-13T18:35:00.000-07:00

Today I did some one of my favorite things--volunteering for the annual Neptune Festival. This weekend was the Fall Wine Tasting. The Neptune Festival takes place once most of the tourists have gone home, and it's a time where the locals come out and enjoy the peace and slightly cooler weather, and reclaim the oceanfront. The admission is $30 per person--you get the coveted Neptune Festival commemorative wine glass, free music, a chance to sample lots of wine from a number of Virginia wineries, and enjoy some music. You can bring your own table & chairs or blankets, and food if you want, although there is food there to purchase. This is right on the oceanfront, only across the sidewalk from the beach. I enjoy volunteering for the different events, because it is almost like a family reunion, and the festival organizers are the best people to work with. It's more fun than working a "real" job. I got my commemorative wine glass and coveted t-shirt, free food, and drank my way around the park.

...that I am disgusted, but not surprised...

2009-09-11T12:50:00.000-07:00

...at the rude, embarassing, disgusting outburst by South Carolina Republican Joe Wilson. Unbelieveable, that he would have the nerve to be so disrespectful of his Commander in Chief. There is no excuse for his behavior. His explanation, was that it was kind of like a reflex, that the words slipped out of his mouth before he had a chance to stop himself. Well, you know we have all punished our own children for outbursts like that. So, he's saying he has the self-control of a toddler? Or a teenager? Perhaps. However, this is not behavior commensurate with an elected official in our Congress. Somehow, however, I am not surprised that his own party members haven't called him out about it. They are either all jerk-offs, or spineless. So, these jokers call themselves the party of family values? They have the support of right-wing Christians? So, does that type of behavior demonstrate a higher moral standing? Is that what Jesus would have said or done? Frigging buttmunch.

Today marks eight years since we were blindsided by seventeen men in four airplanes. Who would have ever thought something like that could happen in this country. Thinking about that, thinking about certain members of the Republican party, certain blow-holes in the media...I feel like I have been mentally and emotionally raped.

...my son-in-law, Mike, a Navy doc, is a frigging genius!

2009-09-07T18:13:00.000-07:00

My daughter Meeghan, forwarded this column that Mike sent her. Thank goodness I got this before I began my exercise regimen and started trying to "eat healthier."

Q: Doctor, I've heard that cardiovascular exercise can prolong life. Is this true?
A: Your heart is only good for so many beats, and that's it... don't waste them on exercise. Everything wears out eventually. Speeding up your heart will not make you live longer; that's like saying you can extend the life of your car by driving it faster. Want to live longer? Take a nap.

Q: Should I cut down on meat and eat more fruits and vegetables?
A: You must grasp logistical efficiencies. What does a cow eat? Hay and corn.And what are these? Vegetables. So a steak is nothing more than an efficient
mechanism of delivering vegetables to your system. Need grain? Eat chicken. Beef is also a good source of field grass (green leafy vegetable). And a pork chop can give you 100% of your recommended daily allowance of vegetable products.

Q: Should I reduce my alcohol intake?
A: No, not at all. Wine is made from fruit. Brandy is distilled wine, that means they take the water out of the fruity bit so you get even more of the goodness that way. Beer is also made out of grain. Bottoms up!

Q: How can I calculate my body/fat ratio?
A: Well, if you have a body and you have fat, your ratio is one to one. If you have two bodies, your ratio is two to one, etc.

Q: What are some of the advantages of participating in a regular exercise program?
A: Can't think of a single one, sorry. My philosophy is: No Pain...Good!

Q: Aren't fried foods bad for you?
A: YOU'RE NOT LISTENING!!! ..... Foods are fried these days in vegetable oil. In fact, they're permeated in it. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you?

Q: Will sit-ups help prevent me from getting a little soft around the middle?
A: Definitely not! When you exercise a muscle, it gets bigger. You should only be doing sit-ups if you want a bigger stomach.

Q: Is chocolate bad for me?
A: Are you crazy? HELLO Cocoa beans! Another vegetable!!! It's the best feel-good food around!

Q: Is swimming good for your figure?
A: If swimming is good for your figure, explain whales to me.

Q: Is getting in-shape important for my lifestyle?
A: Hey! 'Round' is a shape!

Well, I hope this has cleared up any misconceptions you may have had about food and diets.

AND.....

For those of you who watch what you eat, here's the final word on nutrition and health. It's a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting nutritional studies.

1. The Japanese eat very little fat
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

3. The Chinese drink very little red wine
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

4. The Italians drink a lot of red wine
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beers and eat lots of sausages and fats
and suffer fewer heart attacks than Americans.

CONCLUSION

Eat and drink what you like.
Speaking English is apparently what kills you.

...about emptying out my husband's storage shed...

2009-09-07T11:24:00.000-07:00

...and turning it into something like this:

Thanks to: Marie's Marche French Inspired Flea Market Living
http://mariesmarche.blogspot.com/

...that just maybe I am mentally ill...

2009-09-05T17:17:00.000-07:00

Back in 1968, my husband Bill said, "Nobody is as happy as you are all the time, unless they are mentally ill. You're always laughing...that's abnormal. Life is too serious to be happy and laughing all the time." I'm still crazy after all these years. What's up with that?

BOOB UPDATE...

2009-09-03T17:57:00.001-07:00

Well, after a week of sweating bullets, and thinking about giving things away before my premature death of breast cancer at age 60, I got the letter from my doctor and from the radiologist who "read" my mammogram and ultrasound. Simply, the lump is there, but cancer is not indicated. I don't know how they make that determination; 21 years ago (before boob ultrasound), I had found a lump in my other boob. Ada Michaels, the principal of my kids' school, a breast cancer survivor (at the time), came right to me when she heard, and was very supportive as I went in for a lumpectomy. I knew I would come out of surgery missing a lump or missing a boob. Sadly, she has since passed away...way too young, from cancer. Anyhow, I didn't have Ada to lean on this time, and it was scary as hell, and somehow, I don't feel very comfortable relying on someone simply looking at a picture to determine if this is a cancerous lump or not. And while I'm certainly not excited about surgery or needles, I would have thought that the radiologist, just to be certain, would have suggested a biopsy, if not a lumpectomy. I mean, I don't want a year to go by until my next mammogram, have the radiologist read that one, and say, "OOPS!! It WAS cancer...my bad!" My friend Annalee's husband Craig, found a little lump behind his left shoulder blade, kind of near the back of his armpit. He WENT to the doctor, who said it was nothing. A year later, he was still complaining to Annalee about it, and she said, "Then why don't you just go to a different doctor?!" He did, they did some tests, and the NEW doctor said, "You should have been in here a year ago!" It was malignant melanoma, and it had spread throughout his body, and he was dead within three months. So, I have to see my doctor in October, anyhow, for my annual physical, and I guess I will talk to him about this. But for now, I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And I've been catching up on the sleep that I lost during those couple of weeks of worrying.

...About this joker running for governor of Virginia

2009-09-03T17:46:00.000-07:00

This article was sent to me by supporters of Creigh Deeds, MY choice for governor. His record as a state legislator has been consistent throughout his years in government, and he has the support of Planned Parenthood and CAN ProChoice. Bob McDonnell has also been consistent throughout his years in government. This email explains how consistent he has been, and how he is trying to distance himself from his prior declarations and actions.

I don't know if anyone in Virginia reads my blog, but if they do, I hope they will read the little excerpt from his Masters Thesis. If he'd written it when he was 18 or 22, even, I'd think that maybe he's matured and developed a more open-minded view, however, this was written at age 34. I don't seriously believe people's viewpoints change that much between 34 and 55. So read on...

"Throughout all his years in state government, Bob McDonnell has been far more interested in pursuing an intolerant social agenda than creating economic opportunity. Now that the Washington Post uncovered what it called his "blueprint" for governing, we’re gaining much better insight into why that's been the case.

But as McDonnell campaigns for governor, the Washington Times observes that he "pretends to disavow his words."

Virginians deserve to know the truth. And thanks to your incredible generosity -- we shattered our online fundraising goal last reporting period – we're able to expose the real Bob McDonnell directly to voters.

Today, we are launching an Internet ad campaign, a radio spot, and a brand new website – www.BobMcDonnellBlueprint.com – to correct the misrepresentations coming from the McDonnell campaign.

Virginians aren't buying Bob McDonnell's convenient election year conversions. Larry Sabato, director of the Center for Politics at the University of Virginia, explained, "I've known Bob well enough to know that he's moderated, because of ambition…. That's why he's moved."

Similarly, editorial boards across the Commonwealth have taken notice of the similarities between the ideas in McDonnell's thesis, what he’s done in the legislature, and what that could mean if he becomes Governor.

"If he changed his mind on these and other things, it was only recently, perhaps as recently as the day he declared his run for governor." - The Roanoke Times

"In his 14 years in the state's General Assembly, Mr. McDonnell did aggressively pursue a socially conservative agenda largely in line with his thesis. As governor he could do the same." - The Washington Post

"The conservative social agenda outlined in a graduate thesis two decades ago by Republican Bob McDonnell is no surprise to those who know the gubernatorial candidate and have followed his career." - The Virginian-Pilot

The Republicans who served with Bob McDonnell agree. For example, former Republican Senator Martin E. Williams says, "It's the Bob I've always known.... My biggest shock is that he is running away from it, because I really do think it's who is he is.""

...about my boobie update

2009-08-26T13:16:00.000-07:00

Well, I am awaiting word on the outcome of the mammogram and ultrasound on one of my gals. When I called the doctor, his nurse said she'd sent the results out the day before; I haven't yet received the official word, but she said she'd see me in December. That makes me feel a bit optimistic. At least I got some sleep last night for the first time in a couple of weeks.

...no news yet on boob, good news re: hurricane...

2009-08-21T18:06:00.000-07:00

Well, I will give the doctor a call on Monday to find out what is up.

This picture is of Kitty Hawk, NC, a small community on the Outer Banks after Hurricane Isabel. Even though that storm barely grazed the edge of Virginia Beach as a minimal hurricane, there were a lot of trees down in our area, and we were without power for ten sweltering days. Our apple tree now grows at a slight angle from the constant 70mph winds.

One section of road down on the Outer Banks of North Carolina (about 90 miles or so, south of here), will be closed for the weekend. This is because it is a skinny section of road that goes for miles through some little communities with the Atlantic Ocean on one side, and a bay, I guess you would call it, on the other side. I drove down there back in October for my friend/catering partner, Victoria's daughter Vanessa's wedding. If you heard of the movie, "Nights in Rodanthe," it was supposed to have taken place down there, and as a matter of fact, the house where the movie was filmed is down there...however, due to some wave action, it was surrounded by water when I was there. In fact, this skinny two-lane road had a lot of water and sand over it in places, and warning signs, too. I didn't recall hearing anything on the news about any storms there, and I was a little anxious driving down there by myself, since it wasn't tourist season, and I'd only passed a couple of cars during the entire drive. Had I gotten stuck, I am not sure what I would have done. Anyhow, Vanessa, her husband, and their two kids live in another small community further south than Kitty Hawk, called Salvo, in a little one-story house they rent, about a half-block from the ocean. There are plenty of two- and three-story homes on stilts down there, but her's isn't one of them. So, when I hear news like high tides, I do worry about them. Especially if they cannot get out because the road is closed.

This house fell off its stilts during a storm; the waves crashed against the house and brought it down.
Meanwhile, it looks like Hurricane Bill is going to pass about 300 miles east of here, but we are still in store for high tides, beach erosion, and rip currents.
People who stick around to have "hurricane parties" are nuts.

...TOM DELAY IS A JERKOFF....

2009-08-20T15:26:00.000-07:00

...still asking for Obama's birth certificate. AND KARL ROVE is a lying SOB. Too long to write. Just watch the news. Real news...not FOX commentaries. Fact-based news. Jeez.

Unless one is Native American, aren't we all pretty much undocumented illegal immigrants?

And what is up that this idiot, "Joe the Plumber," is still on the news? Who the frig cares about what he thinks or does???????????

...I couldn't sleep last night, and I know why...

2009-08-19T09:31:00.000-07:00

an UNRESOLVED ISSUE. My procrastination. Nineteen years worth. Last week I felt a lump in my right boob. I spent the rest of the day ignoring it,hoping the lump would disappear, but I couldn't stop thinking about it anyhow. I was extra careful to not let my hand drift anywhere near it. You think (if you're a woman, anyhow)that you are immune from lumps in the boobs if you get your annual mammogram. The same woman has been "doing my boobs" for the past 19 years. Anyhow, she is very thorough, and always asks me if I've done my monthly breast self-examinations. And every year I tell her that I started off with good intentions, and have always done it for the two months following the annual "mam"...but that I guess right after the "mam" is kind of silly, because I already know there are no lumps. It is more critical to do them as the time since the last exam increases. But by then, it gets pushed to the back burner, and I am in a rush to get out of the shower, to get to sleep, to get dressed, etc. My next exam isn't due until October, and I haven't done a self-examination since last December. The next day, I got my husband to feel my boob (not in a hot way) hoping it was just my imagination. But he felt it too. I was able to snag an early appointment with my doctor a week later (he's booked up through the end of August), and tomorrow I'm going in for a diagnostic mammogram and ultra-sound. So, now I'm kicking myself, and I am trying not to freak out...what is is what is. Wish me luck.

Meanwhile, you guys--Mohawk Chieftain, Boo, Cookie, whoever else is reading this. When you go to bed tonight with your wife...feel her up, feel her up real good, like she's never been felt before. And force yourself to do it every month. If she is too busy or a procrastinator like me, you may just save her life. AND, I am sure she will appreciate the extra attention.

Meanwhile, a poem. I'd like to say I wrote it, but I didn't.

Oh, I Wish I'd Looked After Me Tits
By Pam Ayres

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me dear old knockers,
Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers,
Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

'Cos now I'm much older and gravity's winning.
It's Nature's revenge for all that sinning,
And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

'Cos tits can be such troublesome things,
When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing.
And although they go well with my Bingo wings,
I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When they're both long enough to tie up in a bow,
When it's not the sweet chariot that swings low,
When they're less of a friend and more of a foe,
Then I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When I was young I got whistles and hoots,
From the men on the site to the men in the suits,
Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters,
Cruising around with my favourite suitors.
Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters,
I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When they follow behind and get trapped in the door,
When they're less in the air and more near the floor,
When people see less of them rather than more,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits

...I can't believe the bull-dukie I've been hearing...

2009-08-14T17:41:00.000-07:00

...and all I can say is:

What the frig is a "death panel"? And just where is it written that grandparents will be euthanized? I think somebody is lying...I wonder who it could be? Rush? Newt? The quitter from Alaska? What's up with their stance on advance directives/ living wills? And end of life counseling? They were for it before they were against it. And let's talk about government involvement in end-of-life decisions? NO, these conservatives say! I seem to recall some governor (Jeb) and his brother (George) and others rushing to put their two cents in in the case of Terry Sciavo (not sure of the spelling)...the poor comatose woman in Florida whose husband wanted to honor his wife's wishes and "pull the plug." Government involvement in a personal medical decision. These creeps have short memories.

Next topic, I'm glad to see that Michael Vick is about to be gainfully employed again. I'm not a fan, even back in the days before he began to play professional football, when he was still well-known for his high school football prowess. He is from the "other side" of the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel...we are on the southside. He and Alan Iverson were both little punks with good football skills. However, he served his time, and has been released. We give our politicians and celebrities a lot of slack when they act like A-holes. So, it's time to move on and think of other more pressing things.

How about this? My catering partner and friend, Victoria, and I went to see "Julie and Julia" the other night. It was a thoroughly enjoyable movie, and Meryl Streep did such a great job of portraying Julia Child, that she will probably be nominated for an Oscar. I watched Julia Child when I was growing up, (and Chef Francois Pope). (And, I hate to brag, but as I said,) my daughter Meeghan (who has traced our family tree back to the 1500s in England and Scotland...) somewhere along the way, discovered that Julia Child is a distant (not sure how distant) relation of ours.

I don't want you to think I'm BSing here...Meeghan is a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution. This is an organization that honors the contributions of those who served in some capacity during the Revolutionary War. During her long journey of discovery, she has found that we are related to a number of unlikely people. And in order to be a member, you have to not only trace, but document and prove (using birth, death, marriage certificates, census, wills, military orders, and other legal documents). I'm not a member because I don't have the $175 or whatever it is to join.

But to get back to my point, the one relative I was most excited about was Julia Child, since she was alive during my lifetime, and because we've shared a love of cooking. And had I known that writing a food blog could get you a movie deal, I would have started doing that instead of writing about current events--which may just give me ulcers. I do have a huge cookbook collection, but I wouldn't know what country to start in. And I could have tried doing a recipe each day for a year from any one of them, but none are as exciting as "Mastering the Art of French Cooking," and none are authored by famous chefs. Now I want to buy her cookbook; though I've seen it at Kroch & Brentanos in Chicago, and in Barnes & Noble, I never thought about buying it.

I admire "Julie" in the movie, who was so methodical and dedicated to following her schedule, and so careful to do each recipe by the book. I have a tendency to get impatient with reading the instructions and following them to the letter. My measurements are very basic: (1) if a little butter is good, more is better, and (2) there's no such thing as too much chocolate. Also, (3) everything tastes better with butter, gravy, sauces, cheese, hot sauce, whipped cream, nuts, or chocolate. Actually, my husband just reminded me that I DID write a cookbook. I did this when our oldest daughter, Monica (now 40) turned 21. Meeghan, Mallory, and Matthew each wanted a copy of their own. And now my two oldest granddaughters, Sarah (13) and Ariel (11), have put in thei requests. They contain photos and anecdotes about the origins of our old family recipes, and since they are handwritten, I should probably get started now, so I can finish before they turn 21.

Well, I'll give you one recipe that I made for dessert tonight. This is a variation of my friend Kathy's blueberry dessert. Call it what you will, but it's yummy and easy. I call it a "crisp". A blueberry-pineapple crisp, to be exact. When you serve it, serve it warm, and top it with a glob of fresh whipped cream or good vanilla ice cream.

Recipe: Get a 20-ounce can of crushed pineapple in juice (don't drain it) and a 20-ounce can of blueberry pie filling. Dump them into a 9 by 13 inch cake pan. Get any brand of yellow cake mix. Sprinkle it over the fruit. Sprinkle a cup (or more, yum) of chopped pecans on top of that. Melt 1 1/2 sticks of butter in the microwave and drizzle it evenly over the top of the nuts/cake mix. Bake it at 350 degrees for 45-55 minutes. It should be golden on top, and the smell will tell you to take it out of the oven. Serve it with a big spoon...put it into bowls. If you are diabetic, see if you can find a sugar-free pie filling and a cake mix with Splenda instead of sugar (which is what I did). And eat a smaller serving.

Time for Rachel Maddow Show on MSNBC. Her show does fantastic research on the topics before she reports. She is great. If you haven't watched her show, please do. She helps gets the facts out there on any and all topics she covers.

...just when you think you have everything you need...

2009-08-14T08:32:00.000-07:00

...for camping out and sitting around the fire at the lake, someone comes up with something new.

...how great it is to have grandchildren...

2009-08-13T13:49:00.000-07:00

This morning I wanted to jot down some notes to take with me to our State Senator Jim Webb's office for a meeting I had scheduled with him at 10:30. I thought I'd type them up on the computer and then print them out. I forgot, that since our granddaughters visited this summer, my laptop computer stopped working (just got it fixed), printer no longer prints, am out of printer paper anyhow, and could only find two sheets of previously drawn-on notebook paper. I hand-wrote my notes, and the Senator's aide looked them over and cracked up when she saw Ariel's pie chart of "who has the power in my family," and Rachel's list of who and what she hates, crossed off, with my notes in the margins. I had nothing else to write on...tried a napkin and it was too flimsy. I was delighted that I was actually able to locate a pen that still had ink.

My computer is basically new again...new keyboard, new motherboard, new battery. The Dell service was good, even though my call was answered all the way in Mumbai, India. It was fixed within a week.

...about this little note...

2009-08-12T16:17:00.000-07:00

...that my friend, Reeni, sent me today:

"Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning to dance
in the rain."

...lies and the Republican spokes-jerks

2009-08-12T11:34:00.000-07:00

Please use this information to counter the Republican myths on health care reform! And please don’t get me started on the “Death Panel”!!!!!!!!!!!!!

MYTH: Grassroots Protestors are Disrupting Town Halls
House Republican Leader John Boehner’s Office: “Back home for the August recess, rank-and-file Democratic Members of the House are facing a backlash from their constituents.”
FACT: Lobbyist-Run Groups Are Orchestrating Extremist Mobs
Republicans and well-funded special interest groups are sending far-right extremists to local town halls to stop any meaningful discussion of
Health Insurance Reform. Some of these mob scenes have turned especially ugly – including the hanging of Members of Congress in effigy
and use of Nazi SS symbols.
MYTH: “Government-Encouraged Euthanasia”
House Republican Leader John Boehner claimed the House bill “may start us down a treacherous path toward government-encouraged euthanasia.”
FACT: The claim is “nonsense.”
The bill never requires anyone to discuss end-of-life care. Rather, the bill ensures medical professionals who do offer this type of counseling… are reimbursed for their time, just as … for other types of counseling or medical services.
MYTH: Private Plans Outlawed
Rep. Doc Hastings (R-Wash.) claimed on his website that individual private health insurance plans will be outlawed in 2013 under the Democratic health care plan.
FACT: Private health insurance not banned
Individual policies will continue to be available, but people will buy those policies through the national health insurance exchange, which will
ensure that people with pre-existing conditions will be able to get coverage. The House bill also allows for existing policies to be grandfathered in,
so individual purchasers who like their coverage will be able to keep it.
MYTH: 120 Million Americans Will Be Deprived of Health Care
Rep. Mike Pence (R-Ind.): Democrats’ plan “will deprive roughly 120 million Americans of their current health care coverage.”
FACT: “False”
The 120 million number Pence cites comes from the Lewin Group, a wholly owned subsidiary of insurance giant UnitedHealthCare, which based its numbers on several public-option scenarios that are dramatically different than what Democrats have proposed. The Congressional Budget Office estimates that in 2013 about 11 million—NOT 120 million—Americans will end up voluntarily enrolling in the public option, and none of them will be “deprived” of coverage.
MYTH: There is a Republican Plan
Minority Whip Cantor: “The Republican plan” provides “access to affordable basic coverage.”
FACT: “Republicans have yet to coalesce around a single plan.”
Even though the House Republicans’ “Health Care Solutions Group” guaranteed a counter proposal, they have refused to release a plan to
the public.

...how did people become this mental??

2009-08-10T20:02:00.000-07:00

...need I say more?

2009-08-09T18:39:00.000-07:00

Eric Cantor, unfortunately, a congressman from Virginia. Why can't we get a cool representative? When we went on a tour of Congress a couple of weeks ago, I passed his office, and had a burning desire to stick my wad of chewed-up gum on the backside of his doorknob.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I must. What is up with conservatism? It seems that people who appeared to be "normal" have turned into fruitcakes once their minds narrow down that it squeezes all of the manners, empathy, and ability to have a courteous discourse with anyone who disagrees with them. I read one of Bill O'Reilly's books some years ago, bought a couple of Lou Dobbs books, and watched Glenn Beck. Oh, God, maybe it's me. Maybe I have put a curse on them. I may be sending out liberal wavelengths through my television set, or through my credit card transactions at Barnes and Noble without even knowing it.

...how cathartic that last post was!!

2009-08-09T18:29:00.001-07:00

Yeah, what's up with this nonsense?
OMG, how I detest this beeotch. She is a waste of oxygen.
...and now I'm on a roll. I found a few more political cartoons I thought you'd enjoy. And I'd like to give a "shout out" to my mentor, Mohawk Chieftain, and beg him to get back in front of his computer where he belongs, and quit galavanting all over tarnation taking pictures of horses with fringed ear-warmers, and sleeping pigs. Even though I thoroughly enjoy the pictures, my brain needs the stimulation of his wry sense of humor.

...why am I a "Communist"?

2009-08-09T17:22:00.000-07:00

One of the members of our synagogue recently passed away, and today we had a very-well attended and very, very nice memorial service. Afterward, everyone gathered in the room where my catering partner and friend, Victoria, and I usually setup our fancy stuff when we cater events there. Anyhow, one of the women came over to where Vicky and I were sitting and we had a little chat. She informed us that she was becoming politically active. Well, that's nice...I think everyone should be involved in their community. I have worked as an election observer since my early 20s back in Chicago, and as an election judge for many years. I have been involved in several civic organizations, and (I am proud to say) I was a member of S.E.P.T.I.A.--(the Society to End Pay Toilets in America) -- an organization that all of you can thank for the removal of pay toilets in public facilities in Chicago. I have been volunteering every year for Virginia Beach's annual Neptune Festival, which I am sure I have mentioned before. So I was thinking that this friend is doing something like this. After all, the elections are over, and we have a great new President with a clear vision for what needs to be done to counteract the effects of eight years of a Republican adminstration.
I found out, much to my surprise, that this friend is virulently against the proposed changes/corrections/inclusions in this country's health care system. I asked her if she had read this bill--I know it is around 1,500 pages long...about 500 pages longer than a historical account of the Crusades that I read several years ago. She had said, "No, do you have any idea how long it is?" Yes. I do. I began reading it on line once my granddaughters relinquished possession of my computer and went back to Florida a week ago. I wanted to know what everybody I see disrupting town hall meetings, was reading that has their collective panties in a bunch, so I started reading. I haven't seen anything yet.
So to get back to this conversation, my acquaintance sounded very much like these people I see on the news. She said that the government has no business getting involved in people's health care. I beg to differ...I have yet to hear any medicare/medicaid recipients I know (and I do know quite a few) protest when their doctor and drugs are paid for by "the government." She said that the government should stay OUT of people's lives. I asked, "What about Social Security? I haven't heard anyone complaining about receiving social security checks." (And, I wonder if she will be writing, "Return to Sender," on her checks when they start arriving in the mail.) "And what about the insurance that we (the government) pay for for these Republican congressmen and senators? Is it so bad that they would prefer to go and talk to a private insurer?" No answer. "And my husband and I have Champus, the government's benefit to military active duty and retirees--my husband is a Navy retiree. Is this wrong or bad? He has a service-related disability--a pre-existing condition--and would probably be unable to get private insurance to cover that."
Her response..."I am on the right, the others are on the left." I asked, "Well, what does that mean?" She responded, "I am conservative. Everybody else is Communist." So, I guess this is one reason I am a communist. I think everybody should have basic, minimum health insurance. So, I understand this means that somewhere along the way, we will all be taxed to pay for this coverage. To me, it really doesn't frigging make a difference if it comes out of my taxes...in fact I'd prefer that...or out of our wallets when the hospitals and doctors pass on higher costs to us for treating "doctor visits" done in emergency rooms because people don't have the health insurance coverage to go see a doctor.
My daughter, Meeghan, is one reason I believe everyone has the basic right to health care. When she turned 21, and was no longer considered a dependent and therefore ineligible for coverage under my husband's military insurance, she began working for a company that offered health insurance...once the employee had been on the job for six months. During that waiting period, she developed gall bladder disease, and was in extreme pain. She eliminated all foods from her diet that contained even the most microscopic amount of fat. Eventually, she could only eat small amounts of plain rice. She lost an incredible amount of weight, and looked anorexic. One bout of pain was so bad that her dad and I rushed her to the local emergency room, where the first question asked was not "where is your pain?" but rather, "who is your insurance carrier?" They sent her home without treating her. The second time she doubled over in excrutiating pain was when she was behind the wheel of her car with her infant daughter in the back seat. She said she thought of crashing her car into a lightpost to kill herself and end the pain. I contacted all of the local hospitals (most of which were part of the same corporation that owned the hospital that turned her away). I contact Johns-Hopkins in Baltimore, and Duke, down in North Carolina. Both wanted cash in lieu of insurance coverage. We did not have that kind of money, I explained. "Sorry," was the answer. Finally, her insurance kicked in...and she rushed to the doctor. "Sorry, this is a pre-existing condition," said the insurance company. The surgeon ultimately donated his services, but the anesthesiologist and the hospital all wanted their money up front.
Right now, I'm thinking (without having read the bill before the House from cover to cover) that the biggest problem is the size and the language. If it was written in simple language, and cut down to the size of a decent paperback with chapters, maybe everyone could get a copy to read. At the end of each chapter, there could be a couple of pages for comments. In the end, we could send our comments to our congressmen. I don't think that qualifies me for the title "Communist."
And when I asked where she got her information from, she said, "They are all talking about it..." I'm thinking maybe she gets her mis-info from "FIX News."

2009-07-27T14:00:00.000-07:00

2009-07-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

"One day, long, long ago, there lived a woman who did not whine, nag or bitch... (That would be me )

But that was a long time ago and it was just that one day.

The End"

...Something to Worry About...Holocaust Memorial shooting renews concern about military vets' ties to extremist violence...

2009-06-19T06:09:00.000-07:00

I found this article in "Hatewatch," a newsletter from the Southern Poverty Law Center...
Experts say recent attacks back up the findings of a controversial Department of Homeland Security report.
By Patrik Jonsson | Staff writer of The Christian Science Monitor
from the June 12, 2009 edition

Atlanta - Three of the attackers in the recent spate of extremist violence across the United States, including Wednesday's shooting at the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington, had military experience, adding credence to a much-criticized Department of Homeland Security report earlier this year warning of radicalization and indoctrination of former US soldiers.

"The overall report was very prescient," says Brian Levin, director of the Center for the Study of Hate and Extremism at California State University in San Bernardino. "The military prides itself with protecting the finest of American traditions, and what the hate movement does as a really disingenuous recruiting tool is try and present themselves as folks who are protecting the real America."

James Von Brunn, the Holocaust Museum attacker alleged to have killed a security guard, was a former PT boat captain who had argued he fought for the wrong side in World War II; Joshua Cartwright, who killed two Florida sheriff's deputies earlier this year in part because of his frustration over the election of a black president, was a National Guardsman; and Richard Poplawksi, who spent a short time in the Marine Corps, killed three Pittsburgh police officers in April. He had been a regular contributor to white supremacist web sites.

What's more, several of America's worst domestic terrorists have had military experience, including Timothy McVeigh, convicted and executed for the Oklahoma City bombing; Eric Rudolph, the Atlanta Olympics bomber who hid out in the Smoky Mountains for five years before being captured in 2003; and John Allen Mohammed, the Washington sniper.

A 2008 FBI counter-terrorism report said that 203 veterans had joined white supremacist groups in the last decade, 19 of whom had served in Iraq or Afghanistan.

What's more, the Department of Homeland Security report ("Right-wing Extremism: Current Economic and Political Climate Fueling Resurgence in Radicalization and Recruitment") warned that, though only a small number of military veterans join such groups, they often occupy new leadership positions in a white nationalist movement that had largely been defanged since its high point in the 1990s.

"Looking ahead ... the military training veterans bring to the movement and their potential to pass this training on to others can increase the ability of lone offenders to carry out violence from the movement's fringes," the report noted.

At the time of the DHS report's release, conservative politicians, media commentators, and veterans groups lambasted the report, calling it an insult to American veterans. DHS Secretary Janet Napolitano retracted the report, acknowledging poor wording in tying radical right-wing groups to the trend.

But as an internal law enforcement tool, the report hit the right notes, some veteran groups say today.

"We felt the report read in full accurately described the threat or susceptibility of returning vets to be recruited by any extremist group," says Ray Kelley, legislative director of AMVETS.

"I think a lot of Americans got removed from that intent and pulled into the political mention of right-wing groups," says Mr. Kelley. "But it's not that. It identified a susceptibility ... that young vets, when they came back, are disenfranchised because they are twice as likely to be unemployed as their civilian counterparts and they have stress issues that all too often go untreated."

Some of the recruitment has even been in the open. The National Alliance, a white separatist group, once bought a billboard outside a North Carolina Army base, urging veterans to join.

Former FBI agent Todd Letcher, who led the Eric Rudolph investigation, says the threat of "lone wolf" extremists with military backgrounds may be greater than the spectre of veterans leading a resurging white nationalist movement. [Editor's note: The original version misspelled Mr. Letcher's surname.]

"When you're talking about lone wolves, they're not joiners and they're not going to be part of a group, even if you try to recruit them," says Mr. Letcher. But he adds: "Training with respect to firearms, evasion and hiding tactics, all that is taught in the military. And is that something that's helpful for a particular cause, for a lone wolf or a group? Yes, it is."

"The DHS was spot on," says former Marine T.J. Leyden, author of "Skinhead Confessions." "There’s guys who may have had three tours over there and they’re now coming back to a country where the economic outlook isn’t very bright. Plus, you’ve been over there fighting for your country and now you can’t get a job because we won’t stop illegal immigration, and they’ll bail out the Jews but not the hardworking man in Detroit. Some of these kids are going to eat that up."

...and I was thinking, my first immigrant ancestors arrived in this country on the Mayflower (Samuel Fuller) 1605, and the Griffin (Reverend John Lathrop) in 1635. What I want to know is why relative newcomers to this country (by my family standards) can feel so possessive of the U.S., to the point of wishing to disenfranchise others at best, and murder them at worst? If they are not happy here, why don't THEY go back to where they came from?

...who our next governor will be...

2009-06-15T13:47:00.000-07:00

We just had a very exciting Democratic primary for Virginia governor. A three-way contest between three good candidates. The winner was State Senator Creigh Deeds. Although I was not familiar with Senator Deeds, since he comes from a different part of the state and we are in the far southeast corner, his record in all of the important areas is good, and he is a supporter of women's reproductive rights. He is endorsed by both Planned Parenthood and NARAL Pro Choice. In a time when our rights are being eroded by conservative groups and lunatics who bomb women's clinics and murder doctors, it is important to see that we have a governor who recognizes and supports our legal rights to access to clinics. In September, the Democratic candidate will be running against Republican candidate Bob McDonnell. He is not supported by either of the above organizations. I think back to our previous Republican governors (Jim Gilmore and George "Macaca" Allen) and thank goodness that we have been fortunate enough to have elected Doug Wilder, Mark Warner, and Tim Kaine. Tim Kaine, our current governor will become head of the Democratic National Party.

...she did it!!!!

2009-06-13T21:44:00.000-07:00

My little princess finally graduated from Old Dominion University on May 9th, 2009, with a bachelors degree in biology, and a minor in biochemistry. She is in the process of applying to Eastern Virginia Medical School for their masters program in public health with a focus on epidemiology.

...and before I forget, I need to make a couple of comments...

2009-06-09T14:15:00.000-07:00

First, let's get rid of this ridiculous "don't ask, don't tell" policy in the military. Sexual orientation has nothing to do with the ability to defend our country. Further, it is discriminatory. What goes on in other people's personal lives, straight or gay, is none of anybody's business. I hope that the President uses his power to overturn this policy.

Second, "pro-life" is anti-choice...for everyone else. If a person doesn't want to have an abortion, then don't. But keep your nose out of everybody else's business. I am sickened by the murder of a physician who was dedicated enough to uphold the rights of women, in spite of the shrill rhetoric and vigilantism of those who would strip the rest of us of our legal rights. There is no compromise, apparently, for those who wish to inflict their views on the rest of the population.

The last thing that I want to get off my chest, is the depth of my disgust and revulsion at the likes of (and I gag when I even think of them): Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, Sean Hannity, Valerie Pfotenhauer, Michele Bachmann, John Boehner, Sarah Palin, Karl Rove, Eric Cantor, George (Macaca) Allen, Jim Gilmore, and Dick Cheney. How did so many jerks rise to the top of the Republican party? I am sure I am leaving out a few. I'll add them later once my stomach settles.

...about my "report card"....

2009-06-01T09:23:00.001-07:00

Just an update about my grades--since my dad died two years and one month ago, I haven't had anyone to brag to about my progress in school. He was very disappointed in me for many years because I did not complete college. I took college classes here and there over the years, but the courses were unrelated, and none lead to a degree. When Mallory began college in 2003, I also decided to begin taking classes at our local community college, expecting that I would end up eventually with a degree in something. I figured it would take me eight years going part-time. I started sending my grades to my dad and he posted them on his refrigerator out in Arizona. When he became too infirm to care for himself, and ended up in a nursing home in Illinois, I still sent him my grades, even though he didn't have a refrigerator to post them on.

My dad would be proud to know that I now have 93 credit hours, with As in all classes but one (that was a B, in "Introduction to Psychology," in the fall of 2005. I am not making excuses for the "B," but rather simply offering an explanation. We were tested each week on each chapter. One hundred questions, one hundred minutes. There was no study guide--each chapter had to be memorized word-for-word in order to get an "A" on the test. It was impossible to be able to think about an answer--if you did not know it, you had to leave it blank. It was nearly impossible to be able to go on and complete the rest of a test and then come back to go over questions that you were unsure of, because of the time. I was very disappointed in that grade, and it brought my GPA down from 4.0 to something miserable. My GPA, in spite of all of the rest of my As, is still only 3.968. That sucks. Just because of one lousy B.

My kids think I am over-reacting, and too focused on getting all As. I am overcoming my miserable performance in high school, and trying to redeem myself even though my parents are not here to witness that I am not the dumb f...-up they no doubt thought I was. But this is taking much longer than I anticipated. I found out last December that I had taken the wrong classes for the degree I am working toward. I went out to my car after leaving the guidance office, and had a good cry, and then signed up for some of the right classes.

A few months ago, I received a letter saying that I was no longer eligible for financial aid because I apparently was "milking" the system...taking more classes than I needed to, without graduating. I have been so busy with Butterbean that it has been nearly impossible to think about what I need to do to regain my aid.

We were late in filing our taxes this year, and consequently, I am late in applying for financial aid for the fall semester. I was preoccupied about my son's continuing dramas, my daughter's impending graduation and the trip to Europe that we promised her when we were in better financial standing (and when I was working...the company I worked for for the past 12 years folded, and the owner still hasn't bothered to contact us...our work just dried up). I haven't been able to consider working, since my little Schmoopie's parents haven't yet stepped up to the plate to care for him full-time. I enjoy every second of time I spend with the baby, but enjoying my time with him has come at the price of not being able to do those things I'd been accustomed to doing.

Meeghan and the girls will be arriving here this coming Saturday for the rest of the summer. On Tuesday, I will have all three granddaughters, plus my little Butterbean, of course, for a week or so, while Meeghan flies down to Peru to meet her husband's ship as it pulls into port. I am very excited for her, but nervous at the same time...especially after hearing about a plane crash this morning off the coast of Brazil.

Meeghan and Mallory were planning a two-week-long trip to London, Paris, and Rome, but sadly, due to our financial situation, have scaled the trip way back to Paris only.

I am catering an "event" this coming Friday, and have yet to begin preparing pastries, however, all seven of the floral arrangements are done and sitting on the dining room table, buffet, and lowboy, along with the serving pieces, and some of the paper goods. I will take pictures and see if I can download them here next week.

Well, Butterbean is waking up from his nap, so it is time for me to go.

CNN breaking news: All 228 passengers/crew on the Air France flight are presumed dead...the Brazilian air force is now out doing a search. How sad for these families.

...I used to hate "Precious Moments" figurines...

2009-05-27T17:19:00.000-07:00

...but I kind of like these!

...about "toxic personalities"...

2009-05-27T16:24:00.000-07:00

My daughter sent me this little article, and I didn't realize this was actually a personality type. We probably all know someone like this. Unfortunately, our family has been involved with someone like this for many years. It can suck the life right out of not just the person directly involved, but the entire family as well.

"I was reading a yahoo article about the worst of the toxic personalities out
there...

1. "Manipulative Mary": These individuals are experts at manipulation tactics. Is
a matter of fact, you may not even realize you have been manipulated until it is
too late. These individuals figure out what your 'buttons' are, and push them
to get what they want.

Why they are toxic: These people have a way of eating away at your belief system
and self-esteem. They find ways to make you do things that you don't
necessarily want to do and before you know it, you lose your sense of identity,
your personal priorities and your ability to see the reality of the situation.
The world all of a sudden becomes centered around their needs and their
priorities."

You could never imagine how many people can be hurt, and the depth of the pain, by the antics of just one person. How do they learn their behaviors? And how do you get them out of your life? Sometimes it seems impossible to simply walk away.

...here's another thing I miss...

2009-05-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

A BIG FAT JUICY CHICAGO-STYLE HOT DOG...................

...how homesick I am for Chicago...

2009-05-17T13:12:00.000-07:00

This is Lake Shore Drive (southbound lanes). Where the road curves is Oak Street Beach. The John Hancock Building (with the two antennaes) is straight ahead. The organization I worked for before we were exiled to Virginia, was on the 20th - 22nd floor. I miss Chicago, miss my job, and miss that nice paycheck.

...I'm getting a tad concerned about the GOP...NOT

2009-05-12T20:45:00.000-07:00

I don't frigging know where to start. Rush? Cheney? There are so many in the Republican "Think (????) Tank" yet it appears to be running on empty --->

...about more practical gift ideas...

2009-05-12T08:28:00.000-07:00

Probably too pricey with the economy the way it is....

This pair of fire extinguishers is very practical --

one for the car...and...

...the other one for use with this...

...or for use on Tuesday nights after watching

"Rescue Me." Aaahoooah! Hot hot hot.

...about Mothers' Day gift ideas...

2009-05-11T15:12:00.000-07:00

I was kind of hoping for anything Hello Kitty in case any member of my family wanted to give me a gift...

These items, however, are NOT on my list at all...even though they are emblazened with Hello Kitty's image.

...Mother's Day is coming, and I'm an orphan...

2009-05-05T06:41:00.000-07:00

This touching Mother's Day poem comes from my old, old friend, Mohawk Chieftain.

When me prayers were poorly said
Who tucked me in me widdle bed
And spanked me till me ass was red...

Me Mudder!

Who took me from me cozy cot
And put me on the ice cold pot
And made me pee when I could not...

Me Mudder!

And when the morning light would come
And in me crib me dribbled some
Who wiped me tiny widdle bum,

Me Mudder!
Who would me hair so neatly part
And hug me gently to her heart
Who sometimes squeezed me till me fart...

Me Mudder!

Who looked at me with eyebrows knit
And nearly have a king size fit
When in me Sunday pants me shit,

Me Mudder!

When at night her bed did squeak
Me raised me head to have a peek
Who yelled at me to go to sleep...

Me Fadder!!!!!!!!!!

...always...about Rescue Me, my favorite TV show

2009-04-30T05:30:00.000-07:00

http://www.fxnetworks.com/shows/originals/rescueme/firefighterGallery/#/1/0

So, I went on the "Rescue Me" official website (above), a few weeks ago to see when the series was going to begin (Tuesday nights, 10pm Eastern time, on FX). Anyhow, they have a "Firefighters' Gallery" where you can submit favorite photos of fires, firetrucks, firefighters, etc. For the heck of it, we submitted the Droolmeister's picture. Much to our surprise, if you go to this site, and click on "Most Popular", Michael's picture is the first one to pop up!! You can leave comments on the site. He is so frigging adorable, he has developed calluses on his cheeks from Scott and me kissing him constantly.

...Just Announced - IKEA to take over GM

2009-04-30T05:23:00.000-07:00

IKEA HAS ANNOUNCED ITS INTENTION TO TAKE OVER GM AND TO SELL CARS.

Assembly Required

...about Josh Schools, gone too soon...

2009-04-29T13:49:00.000-07:00

Virginia Beach--

Joshua Allen Schools, 24, of the 1300 block of Covington Court, sadly passed away April 27, 2009, after a tragic accident on his motorcycle. Born in DePaul Hospital, Norfolk, he was a shipping and receiving clerk at the Stihl factory in Virginia Beach. He was a graduate of Ocean Lakes High School. He is survived by his parents, Jimmy and Lori Schools of Chesapeake; three brothers, Zachary, Jacob and Aaron Schools, all of Chesapeake; and one sister, Sarah Schools Pratt and her four children of Virginia Beach. He is also survived by his maternal grandparents, Ronald and Myrna Nyreen and his paternal grandmother, Ida Schools. He was, and always will be, loved, and he will be sorely missed. We were proud and honored to have him as our oldest son. Joshua lived life to the fullest and would give the shirt off his back, without hesitation, to anyone who needed it. He was a good, honest son and brother, who grew to be a good, honest man. We loved him dearly. Visitation will be held in Hollomon-Brown Funeral Home, 524 Cedar Road, Chesapeake, Friday from 7 to 9 p.m. A funeral will be held at Great Bridge Presbyterian Church, 333 Cedar Road, Chesapeake, Saturday at 11 a.m. with Pastor Hershel Adams officiating, followed by a graveside gathering at Chesapeake Memorial Gardens, 524 Cedar Road, Chesapeake. The family will receive visitors at their home, 212 Hall Drive, Chesapeake, after the services. Condolences may be offered to the family at http://www.hollomon-brown.com/.

Josh was one of Mallory's closest friends...she says he was one of the few from this neighborhood who totally had his life "together." He had a good job at Stihl, was attending college, and was the first of her friends to have bought his own home. Everyone is still in disbelief. Parents just do not expect to outlive their kids. Ever. And no matter how hard we try to protect them, we just can't be there for everything. Nobody ever told me that when I was thinking of having kids. Our hearts ache for his family.

...I neglected to mention the Chicago blizzard of January 1967

2009-04-23T07:59:00.000-07:00

First, this blizzard, and then the tornado. Nineteen sixty-seven was the year that my parents finally threw in the towel and decided to move to sunny southern California. I remember waking up and finding that we were sealed up in our house...both the front and back doors were blocked by nearly two feet of snow. Dad had to jump out a second floor bedroom window, make his way out to the garage, and dig the door out enough by hand to get to the snow shovel. He dug out the sidewalks and driveway. To this day, I don't frigging know why. The streets were not plowed for several days, so he couldn't drive to work anyhow. When the snowplow finally cleared our street, it piled up a mountain of snow and slush (which froze over) at the end of our driveway...further burying a car that Dad hadn't even seen which had been abandoned in the street right in front of our driveway!

...about 42 years ago yesterday...

2009-04-22T11:21:00.001-07:00

Oak Lawn, Illinois. April 21, 1967.

...the weather was warm and sunny, but off in the distance, the sky was greenish-gray. I was worried that I'd have to walk home in a bad storm if I stuck around to wait for the bus. Although I ended up at the same place, I got there about 30 minutes earlier when my friend's mom offered to drop me off at the bus-stop a few blocks from my home. The wind was very powerful and the dirt and grit stung my face and got into my eyes. I ducked into the doorway of a business right on the corner, and waited for a few minutes for it to subside. I recall a very loud roar, and I could barely hear sirens going off. Never having heard a tornado warning before, I did not recognize the sound. By the time the wind had subsided and I peered from around the corner, I was met with a scene of complete destruction. Police and firefighters were running out of the back of the building to the left of me, and I was told to stay back. I had not comprehended that I had witnessed a tornado, and that I had barely escaped being injured or killed. I remember climbing over debris...tree branches, bricks, telephone poles, and lumber, just trying to get home. My parents and sister were uninjured, but our house was pretty badly damaged. Many of my neighbors were not so lucky. Thirty-three people died, and over 500 were injured in our town alone. That day, there had been an outbreak of tornadoes in northern Illinois.

..."There once was a young man from Leeds..

2009-04-20T20:42:00.000-07:00

Who swallowed a packet of seeds.
Great tufts of grass sprounded out of his ass,
And his balls were all covered with weeds."

Dad said that when he went to a Carnegie Tech class reunion during the 1950s, he visited the library (photo above) and much to his delight, found a copy of his printing engineering class project--the infamous book of limericks on a shelf. Being an honest man, he initially left it there. But when he impusively decided to go back and "acquire" it for his own personal collection, he discovered that someone had beat him to the punch.

...how much I miss my dad.

2009-04-20T19:46:00.000-07:00

My dad passed away three years ago this past Saturday. We had some very stormy times beginning at my adolescence and ending (kind of) shortly before he died, just a couple of weeks before his 91st birthday. I wish that we had been able to enjoy each other more during that long stretch of time, because he was a brilliant man. He was a voracious reader, consuming at least one book per day--he would drive to Borders or Barnes and Noble out in Tucson once a week, and buy a briefcase full of books. He would have them all read before the next shopping spree. Shortly before he passed away, we donated most of them to the library in his little community--so many that there was not enough shelf space for all of them.

Dad spoke at least seven languages fluently, including French, Mandarin Chinese, and Swahili. He spoke enough of many other languages to communicate with native speakers. He co-authored a book of limericks when he was a student at Carnegie Institutute of Technology (Carnegie Tech)--now Carnegie-Mellon Unversity. The book was a class project for printing engineering; the students were required to publish a book. This included creating the ink, the typeset, the paper, the subject for the book, and binding it. Enough copies were made for each student and for the professor. The entire class got an "A", but the teacher confiscated the books because the limericks were too "obscene" for the times. My dad taught me a few of them when I was a kid, and although I didn't understand what they meant at the time, he said one day I would. And that I should memorize them because they were "part of my heritage." I would post a couple of them here, but am afraid my blog would get removed for being too obscene! An interesting thing--I bought my dad a couple of books of limericks about 30 years ago as birthday presents. He was quite pleased to see some of his and his former classmates' limericks in print, but was irritated that other people had taken credit for writing them.

Dad was very musical, as well. He played the bagpipes; in this photograph, he was a member of the Kilty Band at Carnegie Tech. I guess he must be around 25 or so. He graduated from high school at 16, from his first college at 19, attended MIT for a year, took classes for one year at Fordham University, and graduated from Carnegie Tech before going off to WWII. He played the trumpet, French horn, and piano, and an ocarina. My son, Matthew, inherited his trumpet, but I believe my grandma sold the French horn and bagpipes after he left for war. I don't know what happened to his ocarina; the last time I saw it was when I was 18. Matthew inherited his musical ear, but Monica, Meeghan, and Mallory inherited his brains. Meeghan has his naughty sense of humor. So, even though he's not physically here with me, parts of him live on through my kids. And, sadly, we get along much better this way.

...Meeghan is tough...

2009-04-20T19:37:00.000-07:00

She got this tattoo last year--designed it herself. In Hebrew. I don't have photos of her other tattoos--my other favorite is a medicine wheel with a buffalo skull in the center, and a lightning bolt going through the whole thing, as I recall. She designed it to match the design she created on her moccasins...at least 15 years ago. If she lets me photograph it, I will post it. She had this one on her "Facebook" or "My Space" so I figured she wouldn't mind if I posted it here. She writes:

"To add to my collection, but this has meaning. The middle word means family. Surrounding are the names of all my family members starting with my great grandmother and ending with my daughters."

While I personally don't care for tattoos, I think this is particularly awesome and certainly original. And since I don't even like testing my blood sugar level with one tiny stick of a needle, I must say that Meeghan is a lot tougher than I could ever be. If I ever decided to get a tattoo, it would have to be one of those temporary ones.

Speaking of Meeghan, today she called to say that she had gotten confirmation that her research into another branch of our family tree linking us back to the Revolutionary War, is correct. She was invited to become a member of the Daughters of the American Revolution (DAR) this past year, once she provided documented proof tracing our lineage back to Captain Hope Lathrop, who lived in Toland, Connecticut and was in the Revolutionary War. Today her research and documentation proved correct once again; another branch traced back to Adoniram Grant (we are related to Ulysses S. Grant), who provided aid and clothing to colonial soldiers during the same time period. One of her next projects is to document the Lathrop branch back to a marriage between Reverend John Lathrop's daughter (can't remember her name) and Samuel Fuller, one of the original Mayflower passengers. She has information tracing Reverend Lathrop back to England prior to his arrival here in 1630, and the Grant family back to Scotland back to the 1500s. She has to have certain documentation in order beyond what she has right now.

This journey back through history came as a result of a couple of a few sentences my mom said to me when she was the age I am now--before Alzheimer's disease sucked the life right out of her brain, "My grandmother came across the country in a covered wagon and ended up in California. Her name was Sarah Helen Lathrop." From those two sentences, Meeghan has uncovered a treasure trove of incredible information that humbles our family and makes us all feel like underachievers. We are decendents of Ulysses Grant and related to Franklin Roosevelt (Delano). Also somehow related to the Stanford of Stanford University. Asahel Lathrop, Sarah's father, was one of the early settlers of Utah, but moved on away from the Mormon church, and opened up an inn or something in California. When the "Donner party" was stranded in the snow in mountains in California, he was one of the group of rescuers who went in search of survivors. I remember reading about the history of Donner Pass when we went on vacation growing up, and about the fate of so many of those stranded in the early winter snow. Little did I know our family had any attachment to this piece of history. Just thought I'd put that out there for you to read.

...save this date: April 23-25, 2009...

2009-04-15T13:54:00.000-07:00

The Gathering of Nations pow wow is
the largest in North America. We have gone to or participated in a number of pow wows over the years, but have never had the opportunity to be in New Mexico at the same time this pow wow is going on. This is awesome.

...about "The Day of Silence" (TM), Saturday, April 18th, 2009

2009-04-15T10:41:00.000-07:00

This article comes from the Southern Poverty Law Center's newsletter, entitled "Hatewatch."
It is reprinted here without their express permission, but giving them full credit for the entire text. I believe it is important to stand up for the rights of all.

April 2007 -- Parenting columnist Dana Williams writes about how a recent spate of highly publicized anti-gay remarks underscores the need for the upcoming Day of Silence ™.
Dana Williams
"First it was Isaiah Washington, who portrays the gifted surgeon, Dr. Preston Burke, on the hit TV show "Grey's Anatomy."
I've been a fan of "Grey's Anatomy" — and of Isaiah Washington — since the pilot first aired in 2005, so needless to say, I was thrilled to see the cast nominated for several Golden Globe Awards earlier this year. But when Washington blurted out an anti-gay slur during the cast's backstage gathering after the Awards, I felt completely shocked and disappointed.
And then it was Tim Hardaway, former guard for the NBA team, the Miami Heat. The retired basketball player emphatically announced, "I hate gay people" during a recent interview for a sports radio show.
Hardaway's remarks were especially troubling to me, not just because of the sheer bigotry behind the words, but because I know my son and many other young children look up to athletes like Hardaway as role models.
My son eats, sleeps and breathes basketball, and to him, the men who play the sport in the NBA are men he idolizes and emulates from their jump shots to their styles of dress. To hear Hardaway say something that so drastically contradicted all that I have tried to teach my son about being accepting and respectful of all people greatly angered me — and greatly confused my son.
"Does he really hate gay people? Didn't he know everybody was going to hear him say that?" my son asked. "He shouldn't have said that; I bet he made a lot of people not like him anymore."
I saw the incident as a learning opportunity, explaining to my son that just because people are celebrities or famous athletes doesn't mean they are free of prejudice. "Those are things we all have to work on," I told him.
Painful rhetoricWhile Washington's and Hardaway's comments have been dissected in the media for weeks now and demands for apologies have ensued, it is a sad fact that similar remarks can be heard in any school hallway in this country on any given day.
Far too often, such anti-gay rhetoric in our schools is met with little discussion or disapproval. In many cases, school leaders choose to look the other way rather than address the anti-gay behavior. The lack of support causes many students who are gay or perceived to be gay to retreat in shame and silence.
If there is one positive thing about the controversy surrounding Washington's and Hardaway's recent comments, it is that the incidents have drawn public attention to how powerful and painful anti-gay rhetoric can be. If nothing else, these incidents give the public a taste of what LGBTQ students routinely face in our schools and communities.
The 2005 School Climate Survey conducted by the Gay, Lesbian, Straight Education Network (GLSEN) paints a troubling picture. Among the survey's key findings:
75% of students heard derogatory remarks such as "faggot" or "dyke" frequently or often at school, and nearly nine out of ten (89%) reported hearing "that's so gay" or "you're so gay" — meaning "stupid" or "worthless" — frequently or often.
Over a third (37.8%) of students experienced physical harassment at school based on sexual orientation and more than a quarter (26%) based on their gender expression.
LGBTQ students were five times more likely to report having skipped school in the last month because of safety concerns than the general population of students.
The average GPA for LGBTQ students who were frequently physically harassed was half a grade lower than that of LGBTQ students experiencing less harassment.
Statistics like these prompted GLSEN to sponsor the Day of Silence ™ in 1996. Now in its 11th year, the annual event challenges students in schools across the country to take a one-day vow of silence to symbolize the silence forced upon LGBT students each and every day.
Speaking up with silenceThe Day of Silence ™ draws thousands of participants and has become one of the largest student-led actions in the country. This year's Day of Silence ™ will take place April 18.
It's ironic, because most of us have been taught that it is necessary to speak up against injustice. The power of one voice is a concept I've always tried to explain to my son.
But as the Day of Silence ™ illustrates, speaking up doesn't always require using our voices. When we choose to boycott a store because of unfair labor practices, we are speaking up. When we don't vote for a candidate who supports anti-gay policies, we are speaking up. When we choose to meet hatred not with more hatred, but with forgiveness, we are speaking up. And when used as a show of support and unity, silence can also be a powerful way of speaking up.
Perhaps silence would be a good lesson for Washington and Hardaway, too.
Editor's Note: To learn more about decreasing anti-gay harassment and bigotry in your child's school, visit our free online guide, The ABCs of Sexual Orientation."

...what a nice e-mail to wake up to this morning!

2009-04-12T06:01:00.000-07:00

My old friend Mohawk chieftain's son Sean, is a National Park ranger. He is always doing something fun or adventurous. A few days ago, he met this orphaned seal. I'm not sure exactly where. Anyhow, the little baby, named Priscilla by Sean's coworker, is now on her way to a safe place where she can be cared for until she is old enough to be on her own. Most of us never have an opportunity to be so close to a wild animal. It is unfortunate that she was alone and probably frightened and confused when she was found, but she was fortunate that she met Sean and the wildlife rescuers.

...Happy Easter...

2009-04-10T16:54:00.000-07:00

Easter, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and Christmas...All are chocolate grabfests. How come we get matza and gefilte fish??

...Happy Passover!!

2009-04-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

We're all sick, and eating only the matza ball soup portion of our Passover dinner tonight. For dessert, we will have lemon tea with honey and some aspirin with a decongestant chaser.

Ash Kicker, Jr.

2009-04-04T11:08:00.001-07:00

This is my youngest schmoopster, Michael, at 1 year in his firefighting gear. In real life, he produces enough drool in one day to extinguish a major fire.

...Michael is now one year old!!!

2009-03-27T12:46:00.000-07:00

Happy baby, happy grandparents...

...WORRY

2009-03-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

Is there a magic cut off period when our kids become accountable for their own actions? Is there a wonderful moment when parents can become detached spectators in the lives of their children and shrug, 'It's their life,' and feel nothing?
When I was in my twenties, I stood in a hospital emergency room waiting for doctors to x-ray in my daughter's head after a fall off a swing. I asked, 'When do you stop worrying?' The nurse said, 'When they get out of the accident stage.'
When I was in my thirties, I sat on a little chair in a classroom and heard how my daughter talked incessantly, and had beaten up one boy at recess, and scratched another boy, and I got the feeling she was headed for a career making license plates. As if to read my mind, the teacher said, 'Don't worry, they all go through this stage and then you can sit back, relax and enjoy them.'
When I was in my forties, I spent a what felt like lifetime waiting for the phone to ring, the car to come home, the front door to open. A friend said, 'They're trying to find themselves. Don't worry. In a few years, you can stop worrying. They'll be adults.
By the time I was 50 , I was sick & tired of being vulnerable. I was still worrying over my children, but there was a new wrinkle. There was nothing I could do about it. I continued to anguish over my failures as a parent, be saddened by their frustrations and absorbed in their disappointments.
My friends said that when my were on their own or got married I could stop worrying and lead my own life... I wanted to believe that, but I am still haunted by my dad's warm but concerned voice and his occasional, 'Are you all right? Is something bothering you? Are you depressed about something'?
Can it be that parents are sentenced to a lifetime of worry? Is concern for one another handed down like a torch to blaze the trail of human frailties and the fears of the unknown? Is concern a curse or is it a virtue that elevates us to the highest form of life?
One of my children became quite irritable not too long ago, saying to me, 'Where were you? I've been calling for 3 days, and no one answered. I was worried.'
I smiled a little to myself...perhaps the torch has been passed.

Bzzzz... Bzzzz...

2009-02-27T15:02:00.000-08:00

How come I don't find stuff like this while I'm shopping? And how come I don't see stuff like this to film and mail in to America's Funniest Home Videos? In fact, how come I didn't invent these things?

I haven't posted any Schmoopie pix in a while...

2009-02-23T20:03:00.000-08:00

... I was looking at my daughter's (Meeghan) pictures on her "Facebook" and discovered that she has been holding out on me. She had photos that I have never seen, so I swiped some of them.

This first photo is of my grandchildren: Sarah (12), Michael (about 5 months), Ariel (10), and Rachel (6) last summer.

Ariel is giving Rachel a facial--Rachel is the one with cucumber slices on her eyes. Now I know where some of my salad ingredients went.

This recent photo is Sarah being inducted into the National Junior Honor Society.

This last photo is Ariel baking Christmas cookies. She watches the Food Network.

...38 Years of Barf-Free Living!

2009-02-23T19:55:00.000-08:00

...what a wonderful life. The last time I puked was February 21, 1971. It was miserable, and I made a promise to God that I would be the best person I could possibly be, in exchange for never puking again as long as I live. I don't know if I've just been blessed with incredibly good luck, or if my prayers were actually answered. Every time February 21st passes without me puking, I fix a complete Thanksgiving dinner the next day to give thanks for my good fortune! So, for the 37th time, we celebrated! It is a very meaningful holiday for me, and for all of my family and friends who want to come share the joy and the food. It is scary--I don't want to tempt fate by buying or fixing the food in advance, so February 22nd is incredibly busy. For a few days beforehand, I try to pretend that it's just going to be an ordinary day, to throw bad luck off my trail.

...Something for the people under 50 to look forward to!

2009-02-19T04:26:00.000-08:00

Subject: Dave Berry on Colonoscopies

"I called my friend Andy Sable, a gastroenterologist, to make an appointment for a colonoscopy.

A few days later, in his office, Andy showed me a color diagram of the colon, a lengthy organ that appears to go all over the place, at one point passing briefly through Minneapolis .
Then Andy explained the colonoscopy procedure to me in a thorough, reassuring and patient manner.

I nodded thoughtfully, but I didn't really hear anything he said, because my brain was shrieking, quote, 'HE'S GOING TO STICK A TUBE 17,000 FEET UP YOUR BEHIND!'

I left Andy' s office with some written instructions, and a prescription for a product called 'MoviPrep,' which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven.
I will discuss MoviPrep in detail later; for now suffice it to say that we must never allow it to fall into the hands of America 's enemies.

I spent the next several days productively sitting around being nervous..
Then, on the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation.
In accordance with my instructions, I didn't eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

Then, in the evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons). Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes - and here I am being kind - like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

The instructions for MoviPrep, clearly written by somebody with a great sense of humor, state that after you drink it, 'a loose, watery bowel movement may result.'
This is kind of like saying that after you jump off your roof, you may experience contact with the ground.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don't want to be too graphic, here, but: have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

After an action-packed evening, I finally got to sleep.

The next morning my wife drove me to the clinic. I was very nervous. Not only was I worried about the procedure, but I had been experiencing occasional return bouts of MoviPrep spurtage. I was thinking, 'What if I spurt on Andy?' How do you apologize to a friend for something like that? Flowers would not be enough.

At the clinic I had to sign many forms acknowledging that I understood and totally agreed with whatever the heck the forms said. Then they led me to a room full of other colonoscopy people, where I went inside a little curtained space and took off my clothes and put on one of those hospital garments designed by sadist perverts, the kind that, when you put it on, makes you feel even more naked than when you are actually naked.

Then a nurse named Eddie put a little needle in a vein in my left hand. Ordinarily I would have fainted, but Eddie was very good, and I was already lying down. Eddie also told me that some people put vodka in their MoviPrep.
At first I was ticked off that I hadn't thought of this is, but then I pondered what would happen if you got yourself too tipsy to make it to the bathroom, so you were staggering around in full Fire Hose Mode. You would have no choice but to burn your house.

When everything was ready, Eddie wheeled me into the procedure room, where Andy was waiting with a nurse and an anesthesiologist. I did not see the 17,000-foot tube, but I knew Andy had it hidden around there somewhere. I was seriously nervous at this point.

Andy had me roll over on my left side, and the anesthesiologist began hooking something up to the needle in my hand.

There was music playing in the room, and I realized that the song was 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. I remarked to Andy that, of all the songs that could be playing during this particular procedure, 'Dancing Queen' had to be the least appropriate.

'You want me to turn it up?' said Andy, from somewhere behind me.
'Ha ha,' I said. And then it was time, the moment I had been dreading for more than a decade. If you are squeamish, prepare yourself, because I am going to tell you, in explicit detail, exactly what it was like.

I have no idea. Really. I slept through it. One moment, ABBA was yelling 'Dancing Queen, feel the beat of the tambourine,' and the next moment, I was back in the other room, waking up in a very mellow mood.

Andy was looking down at me and asking me how I felt. I felt excellent. I felt even more excellent when Andy told me that It was all over, and that my colon had passed with flying colors. I have never been prouder of an internal organ.

ABOUT THE WRITER
Dave Barry is a Pulitzer Prize-winning humor columnist for the Miami Herald.
On the subject of Colonoscopies...
Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous..... A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients (predominately male) while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1. 'Take it easy, Doc. You're boldly going where no man has gone before!

2. 'Find Amelia Earhart yet?'

3. 'Can you hear me NOW?'

4. 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?'

5. 'You know, in Arkansas , we're now legally married.'

6. 'Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?'

7. 'You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out...'

8. 'Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!'

9. 'If your hand doesn't fit, you must quit!

10. 'Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.'

11. 'You used to be an executive at Enron, didn't you?'

12. 'God, now I know why I am not gay.'

And the best one of all.

13. 'Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?'"

My note: After bugging me about it for nine years, my doctor finally was finally able to get me to agree to a colonoscopy last year. I don't know what the frig I was worried about...didn't want anyone to see my butthole, didn't want to have a "fluff" or "doodle" accident in the doctor's face. But when I started thinking about it, I figured HE chose this profession and is entitled to receive the hazards and the paycheck that come with the job. I am not the one who has to look my A-hole in the face. And when I get his bill in the mail, my first inclination upon opening it, would be to have a burning desire to bend over and expose that part of my anatomy to him anyhow.

Dave Barry was less fortunate than I was...apparently the "beverage of choice" was something chosen by HIS doctor...which was the doctor's equivalent of bending over and mooning Dave. My doctor prescribed something called "MiraLax." A fine powder, that when mixed with even water, had no taste, and no texture at all. In fact, it is an over-the-counter fiber thing like Citrucel or Benefiber, I think. The only difference is that a normal person might put a tablespoon of it into a beverage, and that would "solve the problem." The doctor's recommended dosage for pre-colonoscopy, was two entire bottles (7 doses in each bottle) mixed with water or a clear drink. The two hardest parts of the colonoscopy were: (1) actually trying to consume that much liquid in less than a week, and (2) the lack of sleep--caused by the fear of ruining your bed sheets while dozing. Everything else Dave relates is true. I had envisioned having to bend over some table, with my butt up in the air, and crowds of people staring at it and laughing. THAT procedure, is a sigmoidoscopy. Been there, done that. The colonoscopy was nothing! Had I known that, I would have signed up for it instead of the sigmoidoscopy 29 years ago!! Well, it was a good thing I went, because despite feeling great for someone my age, and having no symptoms of anything, the doctor did find a pre-cancerous "polyp." So, now, instead of going in every ten years for a routine colonoscopy, a three-year cycle is recommended. Hearing that news was enough to make my butthole tighten up so hard that you couldn't drive a railroad spike up there with a 20-pound sledge hammer. I am thinking about asking for a colonoscopy every two years, however. The thought of ending up dead, or having to deal with a colostomy, are terrifying. The thought of death trumps the indignity of exposing my tush to a rich doctor. Go get a colonoscopy if you are old enough, and buy yourself a lollipop afterward as a reward.

...Due to the climate of political correctness...

2009-02-14T13:28:00.000-08:00

Kentuckians, Tennessians and West Virginians will no longer be referred to as'HILLBILLIES.'
You must now refer to them as APPALACHIAN-AMERICANS.

And furthermore...

HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT WOMEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:

1. She is not a 'BABE' or a 'CHICK' - She is a' BREASTED AMERICAN.'

2. She is not 'EASY' - She is 'HORIZONTALLY ACCESSIBLE.'

3. She is not a 'DUMB BLONDE' - She is a 'LIGHT-HAIRED DETOUR OFF THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY.'

4. She has not 'BEEN AROUND' - She is a 'PREVIOUSLY-ENJOYED COMPANION.'

5. She does not 'NAG' you - She becomes ' VERBALLY REPETITIVE.'

6. She is not a 'TWO-BIT HOOKER' - She is a ' LOW COST PROVIDER.'

HOW TO SPEAK ABOUT MEN AND BE POLITICALLY CORRECT:

1. He does not have a 'BEER GUT' - He has developed a 'LIQUID GRAIN STORAGE FACILITY.'

2. He is not a 'BAD DANCER' - He is ' OVERLY CAUCASIAN.'

3. He does not 'GET LOST ALL THE TIME' - He ' INVESTIGATES ALTERNATIVE DESTINATIONS.'

4. He is not 'BALDING' - He is in 'FOLLICLE REGRESSION'

5. He does not act like a 'TOTAL ASS' - He develops a case of RECTAL-CRANIAL INVERSION.'

6. It's not his 'CRACK' you see hanging out of his pants - It's 'REAR CLEAVAGE.'

...five years from now....

2009-02-10T18:23:00.001-08:00

...it wouldn't surprise me! If I can remember in five years, I'll do a name search and see how true this is!

Thought for the day...

2009-02-03T07:14:00.000-08:00

"No woman will ever be truly satisfied, because no man will ever have a chocolate penis, that ejaculates money."

...of a drinking flow chart...

2009-01-29T13:16:00.001-08:00

...tonight's my big night!!!!

2009-01-29T10:56:00.000-08:00

Tonight, I am going to the ballet. My sweet daughter, Mallory, surprised me at our Thankschanumasgiving celebration and got tickets for the two of us to see my favorite ballet. And tonight is the big night. I have been looking forward to this since November. This will be at least the 13th time I've gone to see this ballet. Actually, this is a ballet troupe. The fantastic Ballet Trockadero de Monte Carlo.

The following is a great review of a "Trocks" performance in Austin, Texas some years ago. Nothing has changed, except for maybe some of the performers. Thank you to Dawn Davis, staff writer of the Austin Chronicle for this article "Ballet on the Moon...But With Attack Swans." You can read is yourself at the following website: http://www.austinchronicle.com/gyrobase/Issue/review?oid=oid%3A76459

"In traditional ballets and traditional ballet companies, men do get the short end of the stick. Lift, carry, turn, lift, carry, turn, show off the ballerina, stand behind her, present her to the audience, do small short solo, then lift, carry, turn, etc. Back in 1974, when the Ballet Trockadero de Monte Carlo decided to don tutus and toe shoes, they caused a sensation. Who would have thought that men could dance on toe -- or would even want to? Actually, the "Trocks," as they are lovingly known, are a modern incarnation of en travesti dancers, performers who, due to a shortage of good dancers or for comedic effect, take on opposite gender roles. But that designation doesn't do them justice. They are the queens of sight gags, character bows, and the hilarious encore -- which this time was an Irish dance number, complete with fog. They take what could easily be a one-laugh gag -- a big, hairy man in toe shoes -- and wring from it every last comedic drop.

Apparently, I was not the only one anticipating the Trocks' return visit to Austin, because the Paramount was packed solid with an adoring audience. Bios of the featured dancers had the audience laughing even before the curtain parted. Some of the best were (hint: say the names out loud to yourself): Ida Nevasayneva, Iona Trailer, Tanya Doumiafeyva, and Mikhail Mypansarov, whose claim to fame is being "one of the first defective Russian male stars, who has been with the greatest ballerinas of our time and has even danced with some of them." Another hilarious bio painted American William Vanilla as the perfect being -- a dancer who is "extremely personable, the ballerinas enjoy dancing with him, the management finds him agreeable, his fans admire his directness, he photographs well, keeps regular hours, and never has a bad word to say about anybody; he will never really understand the Russian ballet."

Smugly pleased with their Swan Lake tutus and feathered caps, the dancers simpered, preened, bobbed heads, and communicated with a wildly exaggerated and campy sign language composed of ballet pantomime and real-world gestures. Between gags, they danced beautifully -- and damn, they were really good! Turbo-charged power ballerinas with amazing flexibility, the strength of well-trained men and the ability to spin like tops, they would leap ... and stay up ... and hang out ... and finally land. At times, it was like watching ballet on the moon, except this Swan Lake had attack swans.

The company tackled the work of diverse choreographers, spoofing the starkness and jazzy hip thrusting of neo-classical Balanchine ballets and the pretensions of modern choreographer Merce Cunningham, complete with John Cage-ish musicians whose assorted instruments included candy wrappers, scissors, spray cans, bubble wrap, and wooden clogs, played with tongues planted firmly in cheeks. Throughout, the Trocks used their intimate knowledge of dance and their flair for slapslick physicality to poke fun at the trials and tribulations of live performance. What dancer hasn't feared or experienced embarrassing costume problems, getting dropped by a bad partner, entering at the wrong time, or falling during an entrance? And what audience member hasn't cringed at one of these scenarios during a serious performance? I couldn't help thinking that in the Trockadero company, men finally get their turn to be the center of attention as they execute precise technique in beautiful costumes and huge toe shoes. And they shine with such a decidedly self-deprecating brilliance that one can't help but laugh with them and adore them."

about things that make me go ooooooh...

2009-01-27T16:08:00.000-08:00

And these favorite things: Daniel Sunjata ("Franco") from Rescue Me, a baby horned toad (desert horned lizard) in Arizona, Chicago-style deep-dish spinach pizza from my favorite pizzaria--Giordano's in Chicago, chocolate cheesecake (favorite food item), and Monument Valley on the Navajo reservation in northern Arizona.

...about things that make you go eeeewwww....

2009-01-27T15:22:00.000-08:00

In case you don't recognize all of these "lease favorite people, Rush Limbaugh, Laura Ingraham,

Sean Hannity, Rod Blogojevich, Bill O'Reilly, Ann Coulter, Senator Larry Craig.

...about bailouts...

2009-01-21T06:07:00.000-08:00

I don't know if you can read the tiny print...maybe you can cut and paste it and then enlarge it.

...one difference between men and women...

2009-01-19T06:24:00.000-08:00

Oil Change instructions for Women :

1. Pull up to Jiffy Lube when the mileage reaches 3000 miles since the last oil change.
2. Drink a cup of coffee.
3. 15 minutes later, write a check and leave with a properly maintained vehicle.

Money spent:
Oil Change: $20.00
Coffee: $ 1.00
Total: $21.00

Oil Change instructions for Men:

1. Wait until Saturday, drive to auto parts store, and buy a case of oil, filter, kitty litter, hand cleaner, and a scented tree, write a check for $50.00.
2. Stop by 7/11 and buy a case of beer, write a check for $20, drive home.
3. Open a beer and drink it.
4. Jack car up. Spend 30 minutes looking for jack stands.
5. Find jack stands under kid's pedal car.
6. In frustration, open another beer and drink it.
7. Place drain pan under engine.
8. Look for 9/16 box end wrench.
9. Give up and use crescent wrench.
10. Unscrew drain plug.
11. Drop drain plug in pan of hot oil: splash hot oil on you in process. Cuss.
12. Crawl out from under car to wipe hot oil off of face and arms. Throw kitty litter on spilled oil.
13. Have another beer while watching oil drain.
14. Spend 30 minutes looking for oil filter wrench.
15. Give up; crawl under car and hammer a screwdriver through oil filter and twist off.
16. Crawl out from under car with dripping oil filter splashing oil everywhere from holes. Cleverly hide old oil filter among trash in trash can to avoid environmental penalties. Drink a beer.
17. Install new oil filter making sure to apply a thin coat of oil to gasket surface.
18. Dump first quart of fresh oil into engine.
19. Remember drain plug from step 11.
20. Hurry to find drain plug in drain pan.
21. Drink beer.
22. Discover that first quart of fresh oil is now on the floor. Throw kitty litter on oil spill.
23. Get drain plug back in with only a minor spill. Drink beer.
24. Crawl under car getting kitty litter into eyes. Wipe eyes with oily rag used to clean drain plug. Slip with stupid crescent wrench tightening drain plug and bang knuckles on frame removing any excess skin between knuckles and frame.
25. Begin cussing fit.
26. Throw stupid crescent wrench.
27. Cuss for additional 5 minutes because wrench hit bowling trophy.
28. Beer.
29. Clean up hands and bandage as required to stop blood flow.
30. Beer.
31. Dump in five fresh quarts of oil.
32. Beer.
33. Lower car from jack stands.
34. Move car back to apply more kitty litter to fresh oil spilled during any missed steps.
35. Beer.
36. Test drive car.
37. Get pulled over: arrested for driving under the influence.
38. Car gets impounded.
39. Call loving wife, make bail.
40. 12 hours later, get car from impound yard.

Money spent:
Parts $ 50.00
DUI: $2,500.00
Impound fee: $ 75.00
Bail: $1,500.00
Beer: $ 20.00
Total: $4,145.00

But you know the job was done right...

...Ruh Roh...

2009-01-17T10:18:00.000-08:00

What were they thinking??

...about Chicago, and how much I miss it...

2009-01-17T10:13:00.000-08:00

This lovely poem is SO FRIGGIN' FITTING RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

A Winter Poem

It's winter in Chicago
And the gentle breezes blow...
Seventy miles an hour...
At thirty-five below.

Oh, how I love Chicago
When the snow's up to your butt.
You take a breath of winter
And your nose gets frozen shut.

Yes, the weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I'll hang around.
I could never leave Chicago...
I'm frozen to the friggin' ground!

...I could go for a bowl of chocolate ice cream

2009-01-09T12:45:00.000-08:00

This is my precious and perfect little angel who can do no wrong...Michael. Just before Halloween, my daughter Mallory and I took him to the local farmers' market to buy him a pumpkin. He wore his skeleton costume with his owl hat. The ice cream was so cold that he made this goofy face and balled his hands up into fists. Since then, however, he had acquired a taste for ice cream which Grandpa is happy to provide. He appears to like all flavors, and loves the whipped cream we always squirt on top. He is now nine months old, is 30 1/4 inches long, and weighs 23 pounds...solid muscle, no fat like his grandma. He crawls as fast as a spider, and getting him dressed is like trying to shove an octopus into a bag.

...that potential terrorists are right here among us...

2008-12-28T03:46:00.000-08:00

Scott is snoring, and since I couldn't sleep, I decided to catch up on reading my e-mail.
I subscribe to several online newsletters published by the Southern Poverty Law Center, as you may know, and I just read one article about a couple in New Jersey who are angry with a grocery store bakery for not putting their child's name on the kid's birthday cake. The parents named their little boy Adolph Hitler (last name is Campbell). They have two other children with similarly ridiculous names. It is a shame that parents give kids names that can create problems for them in their future. It's not wise, it's not cute, and when these kids come home from school in tears, humiliated and angry, or beaten up, or treated differently by teachers or the parents of playmates, their parents will have more issues to face than their stupid choice of names. These names may have an effect on their ability to get a date, or find a job, no matter how intelligent or capable they are. Hopefully, they will have an opportunity outside of their parents' home to form their own non-racist world views, and perhaps petition for legal name changes once they are old enough. However, for the first 18 or so years of their lives, they will have to live with the consequences of their parents' short-sightedness.
That article made me sad. This next one made me feel ill...

'Killing a Brown'New Evidence of Extremists in the Military"
By David Holthouse
Intelligence ReportWinter 2008
Southern Poverty Law Center
http://www.splcenter.org/intel/intelreport/article.jsp?aid=971&splcnewsletter=newsgen-121808

The racist skinhead logged on with exciting news: He'd just enlisted in the United States Army. "Sieg Heil, I will do us proud," he wrote. It was a June 3 post to AryanWear Forum 14, a neo-Nazi online forum to which "Sobibor's SS," who identified himself as a skinhead living in Plantersville, Ala., had belonged since early 2004. (Sobibor was a Nazi death camp in Poland during World War II). About a month after he announced his enlistment, Sobibor's SS bragged in another post to Forum 14 that he'd specifically requested and been assigned to MOS, or Military Occupational Specialty, 98D.
MOS98D soldiers are in high demand right now. That's because they're specially trained in disarming Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs), the infamous roadside bombs that are killing and maiming so many U.S. troops in Iraq and Afghanistan. Presumably, part of learning how to disarm an IED is learning how one is made. "I have my own reasons for wanting this training but in fear of the government tracing me and me loosing [sic] my clearance I can't share them here," Sobibor's SS informed his fellow neo-Nazis.One of his earlier posts indicated his reasons serve a darker purpose than defending America: "Once all the Jews are gone the world will start fixing itself."
Many analysts believe that Timothy McVeigh, mastermind of the 1995 Oklahoma City bombing that killed 168 people, was radicalized during his experience as a soldier in the first Gulf War.
Sobibor's SS included enough biographical details in his various posts to Forum 14 over the years, including that he's a single father from the small town in southern Alabama, that a military investigator with access to enlistment records for recent months should have little trouble determining whether the Army may actually be teaching a skinhead with genocide on his mind about tactical bomb-making.
But there's little reason to expect that will happen.
Two years ago, the Intelligence Report revealed that alarming numbers of neo-Nazi skinheads and other white supremacist extremists were taking advantage of lowered armed services recruiting standards and lax enforcement of anti-extremist military regulations by infiltrating the U.S. armed forces in order to receive combat training and gain access to weapons and explosives.
Forty members of Congress urged then-Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld to launch a full-scale investigation and implement a zero-tolerance policy toward white supremacists in the military. "Military extremists present an elevated threat to both their fellow service members and the public," U.S. Senator Richard Shelby, an Alabama Republican, wrote in a separate open letter to Rumsfeld. "We witnessed with Timothy McVeigh that today's racist extremist may become tomorrow's domestic terrorist."
But neither Rumsfeld nor his successor, Robert Gates, launched any sort of systemic investigation or crackdown. Military and Defense Department officials seem to have made no sustained effort to prevent active white supremacists from joining the armed forces or to weed out those already in uniform. Furthermore, new evidence is emerging that not only supports the Intelligence Report's original findings, but also indicates the problem may have worsened since the summer of 2006, as enlistment rates have continued to plummet, and the military has struggled to meet recruitment goals in a time of unpopular war. Asked about the latest developments, military officials this fall declined to comment.
A new FBI report confirms that white supremacists are infiltrating the military for several reasons. According to the unclassified FBI Intelligence Assessment, "White Supremacist Recruitment of Military Personnel Since 9/11," which was released to law enforcement agencies nationwide: "Sensitive and reliable source reporting indicates supremacist leaders are encouraging followers who lack documented histories of neo-Nazi activity and overt racist insignia such as tattoos to infiltrate the military as 'ghost skins,' in order to recruit and receive training for the benefit of the extremist movement." The FBI report details more than a dozen investigative findings and criminal cases involving Iraq and Afghanistan veterans as well as active-duty personnel engaging in extremist activity in recent years. For example, in September 2006, the leader of the Celtic Knights, a central Texas splinter faction of the Hammerskins, a national racist skinhead organization, planned to obtain firearms and explosives from an active duty Army soldier in Fort Hood, Texas. That soldier, who served in Iraq in 2006 and 2007, was a member of the National Alliance, a neo-Nazi group.
"Looking ahead, current and former military personnel belonging to white supremacist extremist organizations who experience frustration at the inability of these organizations to achieve their goals may choose to found new, more operationally minded and operationally capable groups," the report concludes. "The military training veterans bring to the movement and their potential to pass this training on to others can increase the ability of lone offenders to carry out violence from the movement's fringes."
In May, Army Cpl. Adrian Petty, a member of the Vinlanders Social Club (VSC) skinhead gang, posted several photos to his MySpace page showing himself in uniform serving in Iraq. One, depicting him riding in a Humvee, was captioned, "On Another VSC Recruiting Mission."
Currently, 46 members of the white supremacist social networking website Newsaxon.com identify themselves as active-duty military personnel. Six of these individuals are members of "White Military Men," a New Saxon sub-group. Earlier this year, the founder of White Military Men identified himself in his New Saxon account as "Lance Corporal Burton" of the 2nd Battalion Fox Company Pit 2097, from Florida, according to a master's thesis by graduate student Matthew Kennard. Under his "About Me" section, Burton writes: "Love to shoot my M16A2 service rifle effectively at the Hachies (Iraqis)," and, "Love to watch things blow up (Hachies House)."
Kennard, who was working on his thesis for Columbia University's Toni Stabile Center for Investigative Journalism, also monitored claims of active-duty military service earlier this year on the neo-Nazi online forum Blood & Honour, where "88Soldier88" posted this message on Feb. 18: "I am in the ARMY right now. I work in the Detainee Holding Area [in Iraq]. … I am in this until 2013. I am in the infantry but want to go to SF [Special Forces]. Hopefully the training will prepare me for what I hope is to come."
One of the Blood & Honour members claiming to be an active-duty soldier taking part in combat operations in Iraq identified himself to Kennard as Jacob Berg. He did not disclose his rank or branch of service. "There are actually a lot more 'skinheads,' 'nazis,' white supremacists now [in the military] than there has been in a long time," Berg wrote in an E-mail exchange with Kennard. "Us racists are actually getting into the military a lot now because if we don't every one who already is [in the military] will take pity on killing sand niggers. Yes I have killed women, yes I have killed children and yes I have killed older people. But the biggest reason I'm so proud of my kills is because by killing a brown many white people will live to see a new dawn."
The Army is currently investigating war crimes allegations leveled against Iraq combat veteran and active-duty Army soldier Kenneth Eastridge, 24, who in November was sentenced to 10 years in prison for the December 2007 murder of a fellow serviceman. After Eastridge was arrested for that killing, National Public Radio publicized his MySpace page, which showed Eastridge displaying a tattoo of SS lightning bolts, a common neo-Nazi insignia.
Another member of Eastridge's company recently told Army investigators that Eastridge used a stolen AK-47 to fire indiscriminately at Iraqi civilians from his moving Humvee on the streets of Baghdad. "The military is to some extent desperate to get people to fight, soldiers who are not fit, mentally and physically sick, but they continue to send them," Eastridge's attorney told Kennard. "Having a tattoo was the least of [Eastridge's] concerns."
As part of the research for his thesis, "The New Nazi Army: How the U.S. military is allowing the far right to join its ranks," Kennard used the Freedom of Information Act to obtain from the Army's Criminal Investigative Division investigative reports concerning white supremacist activity in 2006 and 2007. They show that Army commanders repeatedly terminated investigations of suspected extremist activity in the military despite strong evidence it was occurring. This evidence was often provided by regional Joint Terrorism Task Forces, which are made up of FBI and state and local law enforcement officials.
For example, one CID report details a 2006 investigation of a suspected member of the Hammerskins, a multi-state racist skinhead gang, who was stationed at Fort Hood, a large Army base in central Texas. According to the report, there was "probable cause" to believe that the soldier "had participated in a white extremist meeting and also provided a military technical manual 31-210, Improvised Munitions Handbook, to the leader of a white extremist group in order to assist in the planning and execution of future attacks on various targets."
The report shows that agents only interviewed the subject once, in November 2006, before Fort Hood higher-ups called off the investigation that December.
Another report, also from 2006, covers an investigation of another Fort Hood soldier who was posting messages on Stormfront.org, a major white supremacist website. One CID investigator expresses his frustration at the muddled process for dealing with extremists. "We need to discuss the review process," he writes. "I'm not doing my job here. Needs to get fixed."
A third CID report, regarding a 2007 investigation, notes the termination of an investigation of a soldier at Fort Richardson, Alaska, who was reportedly the leader and chief recruiter for the Alaska Front, a white supremacist group. According to the report, the investigation was halted because the solider was "mobilized to Camp Shelby, MS in preparation for deployment to Iraq."
Editor's Note: As this story went to press, Southern Poverty Law Center Chief Executive Officer Richard Cohen wrote Defense Secretary Robert Gates, reiterating the request that the Department of Defense adopt a zero-tolerance policy with respect to extremists in the military.
As the article notes, a similar letter, addressed to Gates' predecessor, Donald Rumsfeld, produced no action by the Pentagon.

Hopefully, the Obama administration will be made aware of this and demand a complete investigation.

...The World's Shortest Fairy Tale ...

2008-12-28T03:19:00.000-08:00

...Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl, "Will you marry me?" The girl said, "NO!" And the guy lived happily ever after and rode motorcycles and went fishing and hunting and played golf a lot and drank whiskey and beer and left the toilet seat up and farted whenever he wanted.

THE END

...THE BAILOUT, SIMPLIFIED

2008-12-22T19:39:00.000-08:00

Simplistic explanation of how the sub-prime deal worked, courtesy of my old friend, Marty, in Chicago. Also explains the bail-out of Wall Street...

How the Wall Street Bailout works in layman's terms:

Young Chuck moved to Texas and bought a Donkey from a farmer for $100. The farmer agreed to deliver the Donkey the next day.

Instead, the next day he drove up and said, "Sorry son, but I have some bad news, your donkey died." Chuck replied, "Well, then just give me my money back." The farmer responded, "Can't do that. I went and spent it already." Chuck replied, "Ok, then, just bring me the dead donkey." The farmer asked, "What ya gonna do with him?" Chuck said, "I'm going to raffle him off." The farmer said, "You can't raffle off a dead donkey!" Chuck said, "Sure I can. Watch me. I just won't tell anybody he's dead."

A month later, the farmer met up with Chuck and asked, "What happened with that dead donkey?" Chuck said, "I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at two dollars a piece and made a profit of $998." The farmer asked, "Didn't anyone complain?" Chuck answered, "Just the guy who won. So I gave him his two dollars back."

...Chuck now works on Wall Street for AIG.

...of a New Chrismas Carol...

2008-12-14T16:31:00.000-08:00

Sung to the tune of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen."

Wake up, old Rod Blagojevich,
the Feds just rang your bell. Just
step outside ... and take a

ride ...no time for extra gel.

They heard the tape ... there's

no mistake ... this state's half-way

to Hell.

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy,

save Illinois! Oh, tidings of comfort

and joy.

. . . . .

How could you, Rod Blagojevich,

this really has me beat.

It wasn't nice ... to put a price .... on that there Senate seat.

The way you threatened Wrigley Field How can the Cubs compete?

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, save Illinois! Oh, tidings of comfort and joy.

. . . . .

Get real there, Rod Blagojevich, you're much too smart a man.

Remember what this state has done to Otto, George and Dan.

If Durbin doesn't write a note You'll join them in the can.

Oh, tidings of comfort and joy, save Illinois! Oh, tidings of comfort and joy.

...holiday gift-giving...

2008-11-18T10:40:00.001-08:00

...is going to be rough on many people. With our current economy, Christmas is tight this year. I will be making bedroom slippers for all of my friends.

This gift is practical and affordable, and solves that age-old worry...am I getting something that the recipient already owns? I think it's a splendid idea--you can customize for different holidays, or for birthdays or other occasions.

Should you wish to do the same, I've included the instructions below.

How to make bedroom slippers out of maxi pads: You need four maxi pads to make a pair.

Directions: Two of them get laid out flat, for the foot part. The other two wrap around the toe area to form the top. Tape or glue each side of the top pieces to the bottom of the foot part. Decorate the tops with whatever you desire, silk flowers (this is most aesthetically appealing), etc.

These slippers are: * Soft and Hygienic * Non-slip grip strips on the soles * Built in deodorant feature keeps feet smelling fresh * No more bending over to mop up spills * Disposable and biodegradable * Environmentally safe *

Three convenient sizes: (1.) Regular, (2.) Light and (3.) Get out the Sand Bags.

This is a photo of the first pair I made so that you can see the Nifty slippers for yourself.

...I think I know these guys!

2008-11-17T18:38:00.000-08:00

Bobby died in a fire and his body was burned pretty badly. The morgue needed someone to identify the body, so they sent for his two best friends, Cooter and Gomer. The three men had always done everything together.

Cooter arrived first, and when the mortician pulled back the sheet, Cooter said, "Yup, his face is burned up pretty bad. You better roll himover." The mortician rolled him over and Cooter said, "Nope, ain't Bobby." The mortician thought this was rather strange, so he brought Gomer in to confirm the identity the body. Gomer looked at the body and said, "Yup, he's pretty well burnt up. Roll him over." The mortician rolled him over and Gomer said, "No, it ain't Bobby."

The mortician asked, "How can you tell?" Gomer said, "Well, Bobby had two assholes."
"He had two assholes?" asked the mortician. "Yup, we ain't never seen 'em, but everybody used to say, "There's Bobby with them two assholes...""

...this is my favorite place on Earth...

2008-11-17T10:47:00.000-08:00

...aside from my family, this is what I would like to see when I wake up every morning for the rest of my life. When I croak, this creek is where my ashes are going...so beautiful, I almost can't wait!

Just kidding.

...we haven't been this excited since JFK...

2008-11-17T05:56:00.000-08:00

...so we voted for ------>----->----->----->

We held our collective breath, until we heard the final vote tally!

Our new beautiful first family! We wish them well!

...EAT THIS!

2008-11-16T11:39:00.000-08:00

The Healing Properties of Cacti

Nutritional Values of Cacti:
Vitamin and mineral content
Potassium, magnesium, calcium, iron, vitamin A &C
Amino acids
High-quality source of protein
8 essential amino acids
Fiber source
Found in the mucilage: “sticky juice”

Uses:

Diabetes - The fruit and stems are used

as a primary anti-diabetic herb by managing

blood sugar levels for adult-set type 2 diabetes.
Poultice and ointment -

Skin sores, burns, rashes, insect bites,

muscle and arthritis pain.

Can be used like aloe by slicing open the pad,

heating and applying to the area needing attention.
Homeopathy - Spleen and diarrhea.

Want to know more?
The book: PRICKLY PEAR CACTUS MEDICINE, by Ran Knishinsky has everything about treatment for Diabetes, Cholesterol, and the Immune System. Get it at your local library or your favorite bookstore. Or go on the Internet and search for “prickly pear cactus medicine”.

How to prepare:

-You can singe the little hairy stickers off over the gas stove burner. (Stick a fork in it and you can twirl it like a marshmallow over the flame!)
-Peel them and eats them like an apple. Beware: They'll turn your fingers a lovely shade of purple.
-Use them to top a pavlova, a cheesecake, as a fruit garnish, or to add unique color to a fruit salad. When seasonal berries and kiwi are expensive, tuna are a great substitute.

Preparing the juice (if you want to make drinks):

Prickly Pear Juice Extraction
1. Collect prickly pear (tunas) with kitchen tongs or leather gloves.
2. Rinse tunas in water to clean out insects and dirt.
3. Place tunas in freezer.
4. Get container which will hold the juice.
5. Place frozen tunas on cheesecloth over a colander.
6. Place the container under the colander.
7. As the tunas thaw, the juice will flow down into the container.
8. Use the juice in your favorite recipe.
9. Do other chores while the tunas are thawing!!!!

Prickly Pear Margaritas

6 oz Tequila

4 oz Triple Sec

4 oz Lime Juice

4 oz Prickly Pear Cactus juice

2 oz Orange Juice

Directions: Mix ingredients and pour over ice.

Tuna Juice Wine Cooler

1 Scoop of ice 4 ounces Prickly Pear juice

1/2 glass Chablis wine

1/2 Glass 7-up

Directions:

Fill glass with the ingredients and stir well.

TEQUILA SUNRISE
2 oz. Tequila

4 ounces cactus tuna juice
2 dashes (3/4 oz) grenadine

Directions:

Pour tequila and tuna juice in a highball glass.

Add ice and stir. Tilt the glass and pour the

grenadine down the side. The grenadine should

fall to the bottom of the blass and then rise slowly.

Garnish with an orange slice. This drink is

sometimes stirred gently.

NOTE: If you're away from home and plan to have more than one drink, please get a designated driver!!!

...some people think the desert is boring...

2008-11-16T10:34:00.000-08:00

...these photos might change your mind. This first picture is of prickly pear cactus flowers blooming. Once the flower has stopped blooming, the fruit appears. You can buy them in grocery stores around the country. They are egg-shaped. Peel them wearing leather gloves that you devote only to removing peeling from this fruit! The fruit is called "tuna." It doesn't taste ANYTHING like fish. The closest I can describe the flavor is like watermelon. The fruit is magenta color, and looks beautiful in a fruit salad. I just slice it up. You can put it through your blender and use it when you make Margaritas to impress your friends. You can cook it down with sugar and pectin and make jam.

These are saguaro flowers. They appear at the ends of the branches, and are usually way, way to high to pick to stick in some kind of floral arrangement. When the desert is in bloom, the variety of colors of the cactus flowers are stunning.

It is exciting to watch as storms appear in the desert and come toward you. The lightning appears wide, and with no buildings in the way, you can see it jump from the clouds to the ground unobstructed. You can feel the heat being blown away, and the cool breeze approaching. The wind kicks the dirt and sand up, and you can smell the wet earth and plants. I love listening to the sound of the rain hitting the hard ground and rocks. Those are the Santa Rita Mountains--my greatgrandparents, grandparents, and parents saw these beautiful mountains from their windows.

...sunrise in the desert is every bit as exciting as sunset. Imagine seeing this every day of your life! When we were in Arizona for our family reunion, we ran outside to watch it.

Watch for future photos!