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.

My Friend's B-Day

Today is one of my best guy-friend's birthday. He's 38. For those keeping track at home, that means he's officially 1 year older than me. At least for the next 60 days. Fabulous.

We have been convinced for years that we are twins separated at birth. I rag him for being older than me; he harasses me because I MUST be older, I've been married longer and my kids are older (a lot older). Since he's on kid # 4 now, I think we can average things out and we're pretty even there.

Anyway, I know I'll get retaliation for this post, but I wanted to give a shout out to my MUCH OLDER friend. Happy birthday Mr. Scott!!!

It's Quiet...Too Quiet

This is one of my FrogMan's favorite sayings. He just pops out with it at the funniest times. But this week, it has been running through my brain more than I thought possible.

Last Friday, Spanky went over to my brother's...for a week at Bible camp. He loves to go with their family - and I'm really thankful that he gets an opportunity like this - but I'm ready for him to be home. This year he left the day after putting a hole in FrogBoy's wall, so I was ready for him to leave...but now I'm ready for him to be home again. He comes home tomorrow night.

On Sunday, FrogBoy was picked up and headed off to Camp Aunt Linda. My aunt has been doing this for him for several years now. It's his version of summer camp. There aren't a lot of opportunities out there for kids with autism, and especially not sleepover camps. That's a good thing; there's not a lot of people he'd want to sleepover with. But he LOVES Camp Aunt Linda, and he's been there all week. They run errands, buy Legos, get groceries, just basically hang out. He comes home tonight.

So all week my house has been totally, completely, 100% quiet. I cleaned Froggie's room the other night (1 million Legos under 1 bed, plus 25 stray socks...who knew?!). When I talked to him that night, he said, "I was planning on doing that upon my return." (seriously, those were his exact words). So far that's the only constructive thing I've done all week.

4:00 can't get here fast enough.

The Cupcake vs. the Cookie Cake

We have a semi-new store in Mt. Pleasant called Cupcake. Surprisingly, they sell cupcakes. Just cupcakes. Amazing concept. This is their second store, so they're doing pretty good. (At $2.75 per cupcake, they should be doing good).

The cupcakes at Cupcake are awesome. They somehow manage to get the cupcake top to be a little crunchy...much to my delight. Everyone I have talked to about the cupcakes say this is the best part. The cupcakes also have icing that outweighs the cake part of the cupcake...and it's supersweet...so you really can only eat one (or two, max) without barfing. Oh, but they're good.

Of course, in my family, we can't do the Cupcake run very often. At $2.75 a pop, and 4 people in the house, we're talking $13 to get 4 cupcakes. That's a bit steep. But they're GOOD.

Cupcake has day-of-the-week special flavors. For example, my fave, cookies-n-cream, is only available on Wednesdays. Ah, but good news: my second favorite, the black and white, is available daily.

So in the office I used to work in (they kicked me out - it was brutal), we used to get cupcakes frequently...which led to a discussion of how to eat the cupcakes (my way: eat off the bottom, then once you can get your mouth around it, attack from the side). However, the many cupcakes conversations led to the inevitible battle: Which is better: The cupcake or the cookie cake?

Hands down I'm voting for the cookie cake. Yes, it only has one flavor, and I'm not a fan of the icing at all. That just takes away from the cookie deliciousness. However, you can buy a whole huge cookie cake for $7, which only gets you 2 1/2 cupcakes. Also - Cupcake has odd hours (10-7), but you can buy a cookie cake at the grocery store, so they're available 24/7. And they're just more full of tasty goodness, frankly.

Now I'm all for a cupcake every now and then. They're really good. But in the grand scheme of things, I think the cookie cake wins.

10

Today is FrogBoy's birthday. He's 10. How is that possible? Just yesterday I had a newborn; as of today, I officially have a 5th grader and an 8th grader. Yikes.

Unlike most kids, Froggie wanted to go to school on his birthday. It was the last day of the year, but he loves school, and he was very excited, because school is usually over by the time his birthday roles around. We did the whole cupcakes-and-juice-box thing for the class. He was on cloud nine.

Ten years ago, I was there. After the problems I had with Spanky, the doctors weren't really excited for me to have another baby. SuperHubby and I decided God probably wanted us to have one, so we ignored the doctors and lo and behold, had a relatively uneventful pregnancy. This was in stark contrast to my first pregnancy, during which all sorts of weird things happened.

From the first doctor's appointment, I knew my baby would be born on June 5. The doctor didn't want me to go into labor, so he planned a C-section...and he scheduled it a week before my due date. The date would have been June 6. Unfortunately, that was my parents wedding anniversary...and they were divorced...so I quickly vetoed that date. It also helped that June 6 was a Saturday, and they don't schedule C-sections on the weekend. So June 5 it was.

We were the second on the list of C-sections that morning. We had to be at the hospital super-early. Amazingly enough, the couple in front of us was late. Late to have a baby. Honestly, some people are so stupid. So we waited around until they were kind enough to show up and have their baby. Meanwhile, my aunt had to go to work that day, and we were on a tight schedule (she was an airline attendant, so it wasn't like she could call in and say she'd be a little late).

Once they decided we could go ahead and have FrogBoy, things were pretty interesting. First, they took me to give me my spinal. It took affect super-fast. I fell to the floor - they actually had to catch me. Then they forgot to go get SuperHubby...so I had to remind them that I wanted my husband in the room for the delivery. He got there just in time to make comments and ask questions about my innards. ("Oh, what's that?" "That's her uterus." "COOL.") It was like the Discovery Channel.

I had a few moments of queasiness, which I guess is typical, but all I could say was "I feel funky." Not the best thing to say when you've previously had seizures that brought on childbirth. Those doctors can MOVE.

Anyway, it doesn't take long for a baby to come when they just rip him out of your stomach. Froggie was in our arms by 8:45.

He wasn't cute. He looked like a little old man. Actually, he looked exactly like my grandfather. He didn't remind me of Granddaddy; he actually looked like a little miniature Granddaddy. It was the oddest thing ever.

He was so small we had to put him in preemie diapers. Those weren't big then, so some friends scoured Charleston to find them for us. We had stocked up and had a closet full of diapers, but none of the tiny ones. We should have known then that no matter how much we prepared, he'd throw us curves every chance he got.

So today my baby turned 10. I can't believe it. He's such a little man, and such a little boy. He's a mama's boy and I hope that doesn't change. He's our FrogBoy.

Thank God for FrogBoy.

I hope this is the happiest birthday you've ever had.

Blessed...and Stressed

We are a very blessed family. We've had a very consistent year of non-healthy problems for SuperHubby. We have 2 great kids (with 1 appendix - now). And I have utterly fabulous hair.

Meanwhile, we have a bit of stress. A month ago, the van died. Yes, the van I loved dearly. Dead. Something about the engine. The mechanic said it would cost more to fix it than to replace it. So we figured we'd skip the summer trip to Myrtle Beach we had planned and scrimp and save every penny and get me something else to drive. No biggie. I would just drive SH's car until we could do that. Which we figured would be early September.

Now I've killed SH's car. Indeed. Something about the transmission. The mechanic repeated the words we have grown accustomed to: It'll cost more to fix it than to replace it. What?!?!

So now we need to buy 2 cars. That's great in theory, but we still haven't figured out how to replace 1. Guess I'll go eat worms.

The good news is that we have cars available to us to borrow until September. The bad news is, they are all manual transmissions....every stinking last one of them...and guess who can't drive a stick? It's not SH friends, that's for sure.

So this week has been a bit stinky. We're trying to remain positive and remember to count all our blessings (tomorrow is FrogBoy's birthday, so I'm focusing on that right now) - but honestly, sometimes it's a little difficult.

Can anyone say "bicycle"?

A Couple of Recent Photos

Alrighty then. I haven't been able to post pix on my blog for awhile (operator error, of course), but I'm back in the groove now. Here's a couple of my favorites from the last couple of months:

This is, of course, me and my FrogMan under a tree at the Walk for Autism.

This would be me with the boys at Remley's Point.

Conversations with Frogs

Last night, while we were riding around in the car, FrogBoy started clearing his throat. A lot. After a couple of minutes, I asked if he was okay, and then said, "Do you have a frog in your throat?"

Nicely done Lori. Remember the child doesn't really understand figures of speech, etc.

So he says the best thing ever: "No. My uvula tickles."

AWESOMENESS