Obit Observations

One of the funniest bits on Friends was early in the show, before they tried too hard, when Phoebe went to visit her grandmother. Grandma had out the newspaper and the phone book. Paper was turned to the obits. When asked what she was doing, she replied, "Updating the phone book." Classic.

I'm not morbid, but I love the obituaries. I read them every day. I don't know what I find so fascinating about them, but I cannot NOT turn to that section ... before I look at anything else ... to check things out. Been doing it since I was a kid.

I don't really read them all. (As if that makes it better.) I only scan them, find the ones that seem particularly tragic, and then read those in great detail. It's like a sick little game. Read the obit and see if you can figure out how the person died.

Things have gotten better in recent years; it has become more acceptable to add a few words to make things more personal. Used to be, you got "He was born, he got married, he had kids, he died, come Friday for the funeral" and that was it. Now people add things like "She is survived by her lifelong companions Bert and Ernie, cockapoos that never left her side even while she soiled herself in her final moments." It's touching, really.

Still, when I check out the obits and something strikes me as not being old-age-death, I need details. Can't we just require people put that in the announcement? If it's a young person, or worse, a kid, I need to know. Was it a car accident? Cancer? Lice infestation? Inquiring minds want to know.

Sometimes you can figure it out. It all depends on where they ask you to make donations in lieu of flowers. If it's the American Cancer Society, you pretty much know. If it's the SPCA, either they had rabies, or they were very lonely ladies with lots of cats. Sometimes there will be an accompanying article elsewhere in the paper that spells things out in wonderful, lurid detail; but usually it takes quite a bit of detective work.

Maybe I'm the only one who feels this way. Probably so. But I think the obituaries should be more like reporting a story. It sure would make my life a lot easier.

And people could stop putting those ridiculous RIP stencils on the back windows of their cars. That would also be helpful. For future reference: That's not how I want to be remembered by my family, friends, and any strangers driving past at 80 mph on the interstate.

Happy Happy Joy Joy

Life is good. I am sitting on my bed, blogging. This has been my dream for so long, and now that it has been realized, I can't even think of what to blog. All I can say is I love my IT friends!

That's My Boy!!

Everyone at work has heard the story a million times this week, but for the record, I'm very proud, and I'm going to brag on my son.

Last weekend, the boys spent Friday night with my aunt and uncle. This is nothing new; they do this all the time. The unusual thing was that at 9:00 on Saturday morning, Spanky called me. Seems he'd been thinking about going hunting with Uncle Leroy. Considering it was raining at that moment and I knew they wouldn't go if it was raining, I gave my blessing. I took him some supplies (on the off chance he got to go) and gave every indication that I was supporting my 13-year-old in his endeavor to hold a rifle. Notice I didn't say "shoot."

While we were at church Saturday, I got a voice mail from Spanky. It was raining; they weren't going; but he wanted to stay another night. Now I had a problem. That would put him out until very late on a school night. I decided to go for Awesome Mom of the Year and gave my okay.

Around 8:30 on Sunday night, I got The Call. Spanky shouted into the phone, "I got something!" Seroiusly. I said, "No you did not!" (Such an encourager) Then he said, "Yep. I got a 6 point buck!"

So here he is, his second time EVER hunting, and he manages to get a 6 point buck. I didn't think he could hit air, so this was quite impressive to me. And he's been flying high all week.

And now...here's the proof...

Top 5 Things I Love about the Olympics

Unless you've been under a rock recently, the biggest thing going these days is the Olympics. Everybody loves the Olympics. They are so big that the two guys in Georgia claim to have a dead Big Foot in a freezer, and are they getting any press time? No. They came out with it in the middle of Olympic Fever. Next time, they should take a page from Lizard Man and come up with their craziness in the middle of October.

But I digress. I've been thinking about what I really love about the Olympics. It's certainly not watching the events. I have a hard time getting interested if the US isn't competing, and even then I have a hard time if it's some random, unheard-of faux sport. So without further ado, my top 5 reasons that I love the Olympics.

#5 - The scandals. Someone always does something to offend someone else. This year, we were lucky enough as a nation to be involved. Our cyclists got off the plane with surgical masks covering their faces...because of the smog. That's a nice kick in the groin to your host.

#4 - The opening ceremonies. These are awesome. As soon as they find out they're the host city, they go into overdrive prepping for a better-than-ever event. Bejing was spectacular. AND they managed to toss in a little scandal (see above) when they had an adorable little girl represent their country and lip-sync while a talented, pudgy little girl got no credit whatsoever. Awesome.

Bronze - The underdog stories. Oh, we always have these, don't we? The guy who was born in poverty, escaped to America, and now is carrying the torch for his team because he overcame all these trials. That's what it's all about.

Silver - The commercials. I LOVE the commercials. This year, they had Olympic preview commercials. One was about Keri Strug doing her perfect vault on a broken ankle. The other - my fave - was about some guy (can't remember his name) who got injured and came in dead last - with his dad helping him. Love that crap. I'm crying right now.

Gold - When the USA wins and they play our song. Okay, whatever, it's great whoever wins. That's the Olympic spirit. But in all honesty, when one of our guys/girls/teams is on that slightly-higher-than-the-others block, and our flag is waving and our song is playing, there's just nothing better. It makes you feel like you somehow had a hand in it, just by virtue of being an American. That's awesomeness.

Of course, I like to see all the wonderful sportsmanship and it's great to live vicariously through these athletes as they experience what might possibly be the greatest moments of their lives, but these, friends, are my top five Olympic moments.

200 Pomegranates and an Audience of One

Today's the big day. 8-8-08. Around our office, it's not just the start of the Olympics. Everyone knows today's the day when Shawn's book hits Amazon.

Shawn has written a great book about how we each make a difference every day, whether we realize it or not...that God has designed us just for that reason...we just need to realize our potential. I'll be honest: I didn't really realize mine until I read the book.

I'm not one to write book reviews, but I want to promote the book for a couple of reasons. One - Shawn's my friend. Two - and more importantly - because I think everyone who reads it will come away realizing they are an artist performing for an audience of one. It will help you discover so much about yourself.

So buy it today on Amazon. http://www.amazon.com

Moving Into This Century

In the past 24 hours, I have signed up for Facebook and Twitter. I'm not entirely sure what to do with either of these tools, or how to do it, but I'm excited that I can actually pretend like I'm cool now.

I only have 1 person following me on Twitter. That's a little sad. And I only have 42 friends on Facebook. I don't know if that's sad or not.

Now that I've joined the rest of the world, count on these 2 to go by the wayside within the next 6-8 months.

License to Drive

Recently I've noticed a lot more personalized license plates on cars. The first time I saw this cute little trendiness, I was in middle school and one of the snobby high schoolers was given a BMW by her rich daddy. The license plate read ITSMINE.

Now I've noticed people trying to be super-clever with their tags. SOCRMOM, USCFAN, PAIDFOR, ELCID84 (for those not from Charleston - Citadel graduate, class of 1984). There is a virtual plethora of personalized tags around town. Most you can tell what they mean; some get too cutesy and you don't have a clue.

I actually knew a woman whose tag was WITCH. She wanted something different; the DMV wouldn't let her put a cuss word on the back of her car. She settled. Personally I think if the DMV had known her better, they would have let her have the one she really wanted.

I've been trying to come up with something fantastic for my car. Can't do it. I was thinking GR8HAIR but that's a given...so why even bother? HOTMAMA is probably taken. I could go with LORIFIT but that's a little lame. So I think I'll just stick with regular DMV issue boringness.

Meanwhile, I saw the BEST PLATE EVER last week. It was WDYTISF. It only took me a minute. Can you figure it out?

JBJ for President

I've made my decision. Since Barack Obama's name obviously indicates that his mama never loved him, and John McCain is in effect "Republican deoderant" (to the Dems BO)...I don't think I can vote for either of them in good conscience.

My pick?

Jon Bon Jovi.

I don't know what kind of President he'd be. But he sure is easy on the eyes.

Movie Review

I don't usually enjoy going to movie theaters. I hate paying that much for something I can wait a few months and watch much cheaper, and I hate being tied down to doing only one thing for 2 hours. Multitasking is our friend!

But Spanky loves going to the movies. So when there's a movie that doesn't particularly offend my sensibilities, I will treat him and take him out. Usually it's just the two of us, since FrogBoy has real issues with the noise level and SH has to stay with him.

So far this summer we've see Iron Man, Hancock and The Dark Knight. Not going to go into those very much, except to say that I'm trying to talk a friend into going to see The Dark Knight again because I think it was the best movie I've ever seen. OHMYGOODNESS. But that's not my point.

When we went to see Hancock, I decided to take Spanky to the new Cinebarre theater in Mt. P. For those not in the know, they scooped out over half the seating and installed a bar (hence the name) in front of each row of chairs. They have a full menu and it's really a cool deal. By the time we went, one week into the deal, they had all the kinks worked out. I understand from friends it wasn't quite as smooth when they first opened. But when we went, we ordered a cheese pizza, a milkshake (him) and sweet tea (me, duh). Total cost: $17. Pretty much what we would have spent if we'd gone out afterwards for pizza.

However, there's really no reason to go to Cinebarre if you're not going for the food. We went there for The Dark Knight, and didn't order anything except drinks. While they took out half the seating to accomodate the bar, they didn't upgrade the movie experience at all...the screen is the same, the sound is the same, the chairs are even the same. The only difference is there are less of them, which means the show sold out FAST, and we ended up on the front row.

That's not really my point either. My point is this: I think Cinebarre is really missing the boat with their idea. What's the first thing you think of when you hear "Cinebarre"? If you're me, you think of the extreme deliciousness of the most awesome treat in the world: Cinnabon. Just looking at the picture on their website makes you drool. And since the name is already right there in "Cinebarre," why not combine the two? Can you imagine watching a movie, noshing on a big fat Cinnabon or 6, and having a tall, cold glass of milk?

What a wonderful world it would be.

Now That's Entertainment

A couple of weeks ago, SuperHubby and I visited MUSC. If you have to ask why, you are not my friend. Anyway, we spent 6 hours in the ER and I have never been so entertained in all my life.

First, there was an older lady who was here on vacation and had apparently fallen. Her leg was swollen and purple. She didn't want to come to the hospital but her entire family wanted her to be seen. After listening to her and her son all morning, I think they just wanted her out of the house so they could get some peace and quiet.

Then there was the rode-hard-and-hung-up-wet lady in her 40s that came in. She had tried to OD and was very upset that no one was taking her seriously. She had taken 6 cold tablets. Even the ER doctor couldn't get excited about her dilemma. She was happy as soon as they asked her to pee in a cup.

But my favorite was the trailer folk on the far end of the room. Apparently the boyfriend had some sort of nasty, infected something that needed to be drained. The girlfriend had been doing bathroom surgery on him for quite some time and was very pleased with her ability to drain said nastiness, but it was causing him a great deal of pain so they came to the ER. And he was SCREAMING.

Of course, his honey was kind enough to tell him that he was being a big baby. She told him she'd had 3 babies and never acted as stupid as he was acting. And she called him many unflattering names, which I cannot write about.

At one point our nurse came over and told us the problem. Seems the genius had staples that needed to be removed. He'd waited too long...over a year...and now they were infected. And they were in his butt.

Well that was it for me. If I wasn't paying attention before, I certainly was now. This was some show. (That explains the bill for $9000 we got this week!). They gave him a shot (in his butt). He screamed. They drained the deal. He screamed. And they tried to remove the staples. At that point I think he almost fainted.

According to his by-now-supportive girlfriend, it wasn't his fault that he didn't have the staples removed. He was in jail when they were supposed to come out.

The doctors finally did all they could do for him and scheduled follow-up surgery so they could continue the procedure without him screaming and cussing every 2 seconds.

Then the kicker: He very seriously asks the doctor EXACTLY what he meant when he told him if he didn't get this taken care of, he could get gangrene of the groin area. How bad could that really be? And could he go ahead and check it and make sure he was okay? Sweetness was all for that - she wanted to make sure everything was where it should be before she left with him.

The doctor laughed out loud. And I'm glad, because I don't think they could hear me howling.

Guitar Hero 4 Kids

Last night, Spanky came into my room singing at the top of his lungs. Off-key. This is not unusual in our house; I love music and encourage the abuse of it at every opportunity.

However, I was immediately struck by what he was singing. "She's my cherry-pie..."

That's HIGHLY inappropriate.

Luckily, I didn't react on the outside like I was feeling on the inside. I know when I was his age I listened to music that had lyrics that weren't particularly child-friendly. I had very little clue most of them were actually about sex and/or drugs and/or something else not-so-good for me to hear, and anyway, he hears the same songs in my car now. But not THIS one.

So I sat there for a brief moment, composing myself, during which time he mentioned, "I've been playing Guitar Hero. That's one of my favorite songs."

Geez.

I realize adults play Guitar Hero. Probably more than kids. But did they have to do this to me? Couldn't they come out with a Christian version? I would LOVE to walk past Spanky's room and hear him playing "Onward Christian Soldiers." Even a Stryper version would work for me ("To Hell with the Devil" anyone?)

So that's it. My baby continues to grow up, and I continue to be astonished that the world isn't slowing down for him.

Profuse Thanks

I spend a lot of time in hospital waiting rooms. I think we've sufficiently established that fact. Today, I spent time waiting while the Smurf was having some top secret girl surgery.

I've noticed something. Whenever the doctor comes out to tell the family that he's finished the surgery and everything went well, but honestly he won't be able to tell if it was a success until some unknown point in the future, what happens? The family falls all over themselves offering gobs and gobs of thanks. All because someone did their job.

It's not like the surgeon is saying he just discovered the cure for an as-yet-undiscovered disease. He's really just saying he didn't kill or maim your loved one while he was with them for the last hour or so.

I reckon this to be similar to me getting flowers or a cookie bouquet just for performing my job reasonably well. I come in, I crunch some numbers (if it's Monday) and I email them out. Presuming I don't announce that only 5 people showed up for church this weekend, or that 500,000 people showed up...I've done my job relatively well. I think people should make a bigger deal out of it.

Imagine how much better the world would be if we would all be over the top with expressing our appreciation at just doing the bare minimum...what's expected. I think that would be great. Hugs and cupcakes for everyone!

Potty Ponderings

I have a little issue with public restrooms. I don't use them. And by public, I mean any restroom not located in my house. Okay, did I say little issue?

Anyway, I guess because I'm getting older and it's a million degrees outside so I'm drinking more tea lately, but I've had the unfortunate experience of having to visit a few local unclean restrooms lately. All public restrooms are unclean, even if they are immaculate. Really, you must join me inside my brain sometime.

This has brought up some questions for me. For example, who is the marketing genius who came up with putting advertisements on the inside of the toilet door? Everything's okay, I've talked myself into going into a completely germ-laden bathroom, there's no one else in there so they won't hear me going, and BAM! I turn around, sit down, do the hokey pokey, and there's a wall full of strange people looking at me. Granted, it's just their pictures...but really, do I need to see the people who want to sell me a house...or want to do my laundry...or want me to come to their movie theater? On a good day, no. When I'm peeing, definitely not.

Another issue I have is the location of the door. Is there a certain masochistic reason it's always located across the room, usually with a broken lock, where you can't make sure it doesn't fly open unless you have 8 foot arms? This is just cruel. My parents did a lot of stuff wrong when I was a child; actually, they're still on a pretty good collective roll. But when they built our house, the potty my brother and I shared was located directly behind the bathroom door. Oh, sure, we had bruised knees for 12 years, but I wasn't scarred for life by having my dad walk in on me while I was mid-stream.

Public restrooms are disgusting, for the mere fact that they're public, which means I can't control who uses them. I don't like sharing germs with people I like; why on earth would I want to share with people I don't even know. Is it so wrong I have my own personal catheter hooked up to a bag in my purse?

Wicked Cool Pics

Have you seen this? These pics were taken in Florida this week. The photographer said the surfers didn't realize what was happening behind them...which is why they look so calm.

Political Post

Q: What is the opposite of "politically correct"?
A: Jesse Jackson

Okay, I never write about politics, mostly because I don't understand them, and more importantly because they irritate me. But Sir Hymietown has done it again, and this time I just can't ignore it.

Seems Jesse had a few nasty comments to say about Senator Obama. Unfortunately for Jesse, he chose to whisper them (which is the perfect way to get everyone to stop everything and listen very intently to what you're saying). More unfortunate for Jesse is that he whispers like my brother, which is to say you could hear him in a wind tunnel. Quiet he ain't.

Now Jesse didn't really think this through, because if you're going to say what you hate about someone, you really shouldn't do it while a camera is pointed at your face. Even if you think it's turned off. It is rarely turned off when you think it is.

So Jesse said Obama talks down to black people and is trying to act white. And, oddly enough, the black community is pretty upset about this. (Actually, this makes me pretty happy. It seems like everything is right with the world, now that people are realizing Jesse talks out of both sides of his face rather frequently). If anyone else had made the comments he made, particularly someone not of color, he would have been on TV criticizing them so fast our proverbial heads would spin. Alas, he got on TV and said "oops" and expected all to be okay.

Not so fast, Pumpkin.

Seems his son, JJ Jr, didn't like dad's comments so much. Probably because they made him look bad too...that's what you get when you share a name with someone...but regardless of his reasons, JJ Jr has been one of his father's sharpest critics over the whole shebang. Nicely done Junior.

Meanwhile, of all the complaints I've heard about this fiasco, only ONE person has commented on the thing that struck me hardest. After slamming Obama, Jesse said he wanted to "cut his nuts off." WOW. That's harsh. And coming from the REVEREND Jesse Jackson. That language is a little strong and doesn't seem at all pastoral to me.

Of course, only one lady from the streets of downtown Charleston mentioned the whole "cutting" comment...and I think she'd just come from church and was in a holy frame of mind anyway.

So, I have no reasonable way to end this post that won't sound rude and/or stupid, which is why I steer clear of political issues to begin with. No one else was posting on it, though, and I just couldn't ignore it any longer.

Thank you, Jesse, for giving us a quote to remember 2008 by.

HELP!

I don't know how many people read my blog...but it really doesn't matter. What I do know is that I need a little prayer...

I've been asked to do something that I really don't think I can do. It makes me ill just to think of it. I WANT to do it, because it involves SuperHubby, and someone else I don't want to disappoint (although I'm not related to the other person)...I just don't know if I CAN.

So if you can pray for me today, to have wisdom and not be afraid, I'd sure appreciate it.

Under the Weather

Sometimes it feels like my blog leans heavy on the FrogBoy side, but Spanky has faded into the wallpaper since becoming a teenager (other than that little appendix thing). If I remember correctly, and I'm sure I do, because I'm just that good, when Spanky was 10 the blogs were mostly about him.

Anyway, FrogBoy is not fond of thunderstorms. Actually, that's an understatement. He HATES thunderstorms. It's always been this way, but recently he has taken his hatred to a new level. And since we've had thunderstorms 4 out of the last 5 nights, things have been interesting.

As soon as Froggie hears thunder, he runs into my bedroom (usually in some state of undress) with his hands over his ears (not because it's loud, because that's just what he does when something upsets him) and loudly asks, "IS THAT THUNDER?!?!" Upon receiving a positive reply, he immediately grabs a blanket and a pillow and heads for the bathroom.

He then wraps himself in the blanket and turns off the bathroom light and stays there. Sometimes for hours. The other day he was in there 4 HOURS.

The whole light thing made me wonder...what is he getting from this? I would think if you were scared, you'd want the light on. But later he tried out the closet. It's smaller. So I figured maybe he was cocooning himself in and that made him feel secure. Of course, there's no a/c vent in the closet, so when he came out a couple of hours later he was VERY sweaty. I told him if this is how it has to be (and apparently, it is), then he has to go to the bathroom when it starts raining. Sometimes we have the strangest conversations in our house.

So here's a picture of my little man. He's smiling only because I'm taking his picture. He's actually miserable inside.

Fun in Won by One

This is FrogBoy's class at church. This week they made party hats as part of their lesson. He's hanging out with Nathan, Mr. Roger and Miss Karen.

Friday Foto

You may recall that Spanky had his appendix out in January. January 21, 10 days after his 13th birthday, to be exact. At the time, I couldn't post pictures on my blog (operator error), but now I can, so I'm excited to share a shot of my precious little man, the day after his surgery. He was so brave, and really handled the whole thing so well (he's normally quite dramatic, so we knew he was really feeling bad when he didn't play it for all it was worth).

Anyway...here he is...thrilled beyond words to be having his picture taken.

Thong Injury

A woman in California is suing Victoria's Secret for injuries sustained due to a defective thong. (Okay, normally here you'd expect the punchline...but sadly, there isn't one.)

Seems the woman was trying on said thong (um, ewww) and a "decorative embellishment" (I don't want to know) FLEW OFF and smacked her in the eye. Her cornea is now supposedly permanently damaged.

First of all, if I get injured by my underwear, I'm not going to publicize it. Especially if I somehow manage to injure my EYE. How exactly does this woman try on underwear???

Anyway, she's suing Victoria's Secret - but I saw pictures of the lady - and I really think they should sue her. She's not one of the pretty people, and only the pretty people should wear VS undies. Now everytime someone thinks VS, they're going to think about her. Double ick.

Meanwhile, VS wants to see said defective undergarment, which Crazy Lady's attorney says "No way, Jose." Um, I've watched enough Law & Order to know that if they go to trial, she's going to have to show her panties. Could be the trial of the century.

Only in California.