Don't Screw This Up For Me

Just when I thought I was forgettable, worthy of being thrown on that family scrap heap with weird uncles, the Aunt with cats, and the courting cousins, someone screws it up. There is a secret event that occurs in families all over the world. Not to get all up in your kool-aide, but you have already signed up by having any relatives or friends who count as family. I'm loaded with 'em. If the idea of the word "contest" gets you feeling froggy -- don't even think about it. There is only one deserving person and I am she, it, her....? It's Mine! THE WORST MEMBER OF THE FAMILY award is mine for the taking. I'm already on the backstretch and I don't need anyone slowing me down. My work is done. I'm on coast......... Whee! I can look in my rear view and you are all there. Yes, your trying, but you ain't got the stuff. It takes one tough cookie to get here and your a little squishy. I've got it in the bag. My names already engraved on the trophy. Wonder what beverage refreshment comes with this title? Anyway....I digress.


Any well trained racer knows that you have to be every watchful of speed bumps, gum on the side walk, kittens and stuff like that. I am dodging, spinning and ducking my way forward, but somehow I am T-Boned.

What can scew me up you might ask yourself? Remember the Aunt I mentioned with the cats? Yes, I really have one except that her cat is no longer with us. Remember her...........she's very much a part of this contest and can't be ignored.

I'm refining my strategy. Pulling on the shirt tails of others in front of me and heaving myself to the front I have given an insensitive reply to a mother who counts on my advice. (Scarey, huh)! I have responded to E-Mail during self-initiated question/answer time with my mom More importantly, I have forwarded those horrible E-Mails that say "Gutwrenching, Horrible and Totally Unnecessary" to all of my friends and family.


Enter the Aunt. Although she is not actually competing against me, her keen ability to cause a spin out is real and is no laughing matter. She has somehow managed to encroach on my position and is making an attempt to cut my lead by more than a comfortable margin. Warning. Her secret weapon comes in the form of an average, non descript E-Mail.

As I opened this "E-Card" I realized my mistake too late. It says "Fly Away, but not too far from me". Yipes! I know a true champion of the aforementioned reward should have just hit delete or forward to "LIST" I'm falling for it. From out of nowhere comes a cartoon picture of brightly colored paints. I reluctantly clicked on one vile as requested. The little paint droppers, one by one, unscrew their little tops and drift over to a little blank card. Little.......but HUGE. Here's where I lost concentration. First pink, then blue, purple and finally black a simple butterfly is assembled inside your card. As soon as you cock you head to one side to admire it --- it flys away. I watched it go and forgot all about the contest. My sister had lifted my spirits ever so slightly so that I could no longer focus on that checkered flag.

I'm sure I'll be back in the game by morning, but that little reprive was actually pretty restful and reassuring. Leave it to the cat lady....as clevor as every. Still on her toes, she does not seem to be breaking a sweat because she's not in the race as I said. She's standing on the side lines holding that little dixie cup full of water and as I run hysterically by, she give it to me. It's gonna be a little harder to get that second wind.

Everything in Moderation

Do I need a moderator? I looked up the word moderator in the dictionary. I felt a need to look up this word before I used it in a sentence. Meanings to everyday words have changed over the last few years. You know the song.....back when a hoe was a hoe, a screw was a screw....and when I said I'm down with that it meant I had the flu (sorry Tim McGraw). But really, you can't feel safe to use everyday words in todays conversations or e-mails because they might have a totally different launguage function. My blog says my comments should be moderated. Heck, no kidding. I have no idea what I'm doing or who is reading it. But just for fun, let's look at this. Mirriam Webster says this : Moderator - One who arbitrates; mediator. I think all the problems of the world might be solved if everyone had an arbirator. Think of it..a person to make all decisions after considering all relavant facts. Cooooooooool. Imagine.....Kids: "Mom, we're hungry. What's for supper"?Mom: "Let me consult my magic moderator......hmmmmmm.. Looks like we are having peanut butter sandwiches and Doritos." Kids: "We don't want that. We want..........Mom: "I'm sorry. The moderator is always right. Peanut butter it is."I was introduced to my personal moderation powers when I opened this blog. When you send me a message to post, it goes into cyber-space pergatory until "I" say print. Cool, huh? Somewhere out there in blog socety I have an opinion that matters. One that can not be disputed or questioned. Man, I don't even have to deal with the eye-ball roll, the sudden burst of exhausted air from the mouh, or hear how unfair this whole thing is. I like a moderator. THIS IS MY BLOG SPACE AND YOU MAY NOT ENTER UNLESS I SAY SO. I will no longer regret not getting a college education, living out on my own, or not standing up to that guy in 5th grade who whittled my ego down to a stump. Kevin, if your out there......Your hair was frizzy and you might write me back to complain, but I don't have to print you or even look at you. Sick...I know what your thinking. You may even want to respond

One Year Ago

One year ago:

* My oncologist said my tumor numbers were outstanding. He asked me if I could go an entire year without seeing him. Scary, but it has been over a year. I go today for a "check-up". I am nervous, I'm shingled, itchy, quivering from the inside out, blurry, my teeth are set tight, my shoulders, back and neck are set tight. My eyes are are swollen from tears that flowed freely yesterday. I did my best to make everyone miserable. I succeeded. I don't like this person going in for a check up today. I dont' feel like being checked. Going into that waiting room used to be a source of strength; I was one of them. Bald, nauseous, proud, strong, hopeful. Those were the days. I was at the top of my game then. Today I'll be a "visitor in my own home" and it's really wierd. I hope the Angel of Inspiration and New Found Spirit comes to visit me there. They are probably not expecting me, I haven't shown any interest in flying high with them lately. Anything can happen.......or nothing. It's not just a check-up for me. It's medical validation that I'm good to go. I want to make this my last day looking over my shoulder. I'm missing what's in front of me right now.

That "Depression" Commercial

T

TAILS ARE FOR CHASING

There are people who have this thing they do. It works for them. Their lives run a little more smoothly than mine. Their kids are more successful. Their husbands are more satisfied. This mystical unattainable thing is so far removed from my belief system that I can only stand in awe of those who do it. I've bought so many books and read so much information about this. Heck, I've bought a package that explains how to schedule this into your life day by precious day. Yes, I paid money for it. The more I learn about it, the more sure I become that this is not for me. I am, admittedly, scared to death of it and deem myself emotionally and physically unfit to try it.

Okay...enough of it. ROUTINE!!! Even the word as it is written is unattractive to me. It sounds like a high-wire circus act or a rinse you would use for bad breath. I can't have any part of it and don't mesh well with those who do well with one. If you actually tried to start one, I'll bet you five dollars that some "thing" would sabotage it that very day. Like today, my car is sitting in my driveway. I have black garbage bags over the windows that were left rolled down. It is pouring down rain and my battery is dead as a hammer. See.....I tried to schedule ahead. Make an appointment...Venture out into the world as if..............WHAM! oh no you don't. Get back in the house. Chase your tail! Chase your tail! Chase your tail!

Camelot.........or not!

Yesterday my 16 year old had some questions: 1) Have you seen how much grey hair the President has since 9/11? 2) Why is the media only focused on the negative side of humanity? 3) Why does our desire to be "uncensored" make things worse? 4) What is wrong with this country?
I wanted to cry.....She was livid. Obviously, a button had been pushed and there was no turning this heart-broken Crisis Vigilante around. I wanted to tell her to click her heels together three times and say Coca Cola commercial.....Coca Cola commercial. She was pacing and ranting and I wondered just how burdened she actually felt. She repeatedly questioned our success at democracy and fairness in the United States. It was a conversation/debate on whether this was something new or old. My younger daughter chimed in that each generation had its way to express filth and disrespect and their own way of justifying it. Everyone agreed that not one particular generation was to blame and the media was an untrustworthy source for truth. I was rendered without a cure, or a band-aide to fix this festering boo boo. Momma could even get special cartoon character band-aides but they are "pornographic and half-naked because of our lack of moral standards".

They Share a Birthday

My sweet neice finally got to meet her baby son Gage. He weighed 7.7 Big Boy! He has already had surgery on his little back and we are hoping Mommy and Daddy get to hold him soon. They have a blog that shows him sucking his binky ..... so sweet.
That same day my kids got a new baby girl cousin on the Davis side. Her name is Holly and she is healthy and beautiful. Remember those days? Those are the sweetest times..

The View

I really want to guest host on The View. Enough said. I can't stand to watch women talk and I can't interrupt and put in my superior wisdom. I have a gift for interrupting people. I have two best friends with the same problem. Our conversations never end because we are never finished talking. It starts off with a comment and then branches off into at least 50 other things relavent to that subject. You have to know the background of this before you can understand that. I am the worst. I am a horrible listener. Even when my mouth is closed I am interrupting you in my brain. To make matter's worse, at my age......when we get this verbal three ring circus started, I usually forget what I was going to say or names or references to people, places, or things. I use these words frequently; thing-a-ma-bob; you-know-who, thingy thing, you know what I'm talking about, that thing.....you know, whatcha-macallit, skippity skap.

Another one to Spoil

This week I will become a Great Aunt Sue. He is eight pounds unborn and is making his way into the world as I type. Gage lives in Arkansas and has already been diagnosed with spinabifida. His mommy is in labor as we speak. He will need surgery soon after he gets here, so please keep on lifting him up. Baby's are so sweet and wrinkly. I love to turn their little feet over and look at their toes from the bottoms of their feet. They look like tiny English peas. My firstborne was in intensive care for 15 days after surviving a stroke in my tummy. This tough little cookie has almost no effects from cerebral palsy physically and poor thing has a 4.5 average in high school. God is good.

The One-Armed Man

Today is my dad's birthday. He is now 85. Fifteen years away from 100. He was born in the hills of Arkansas and you will not meet a finer man. He survived World War II and came home with a bronze star and purple hearts. One night at in Memphis at International Harvester he lost his right hand in a machine accident. He had so much to overcome physically and emotionally, but with help a few good folks, he made it back to work. When I was faced with my disfigured body loosing both breasts after a double mastectomy I knew he understood me. He knew that feeling of loss and grief. I still partner with him in my heart everyday. I called him this morning to say happy birthday and he was there to answer the phone. That's all that matters. Everyone loves my daddy, but if you are speaking about him, he is usually referred to as the one-armed man. That means something, but that's not what sets him apart.

When surgeons are your friend

A sweet friend of mine is having surgery on Monday due to a breast cancer diagnosis. When you get right down to it, their hands are literally in the cookie jar. How much sleep did they get last night? Are they grouchy, flirting with the nurses, exactly sure of what will be their next move, thinking of some problems of their own.....? They are skilled, gifted, enlightened people. They go places and take risks with the confidence that their education, experience, steady hands, and last minute decisions will be successful. I have prayed for doctors before. I have prayed for surgeons before. I have had a surgeon place his face upon my breast holding both of my hands and pray to God that his hands would be guided by the one who created me. My daughter is thinking of being a pediatric surgeon. Please pray for a surgeon on August 27 and a lady named Patsy.

SOMETIMES IT TAKES TWO

I was determined that my children would be "back to school ready". Jeans now a days just don't cover all the bases (or base lines if you know what I mean). Someone smart in the fashion industry decided to bring back longer smock style shirts that cover those bare backs and belly buttons of most teenage girls. Some GENIUS in the Desoto County School system decided that if the shirts were more than 5" below the waist line, it was to be considered against dress code. Why, you may ask? Well of course..........Finally we don't have to look at tanned tummies, belly rings, back dimples and the Plumber Syndrome...........These folks are afraid that someone might be packing heat under that coverage. Let's weight this.....decency or harrassment. Sure, I know a kid could actually do that, bring a weapon, cover a pregnant belly, or hide a six pack of Bud Light under there, but get real. At the very least let me know this dress code change before I commit unthinkable acts against my husband's credit card. We are not happy campers. Just when you think someone has some sense...............I guess I'm going to have to start patting down my kids before I let them get in the car with me in the afternoon. I feel that this is another attempt to force uniforms on the kids. Do you really think this tactic will keep our kids safe? Maybe streaking wasn't such a bad idea......but then they would probably insist on cavity checks.

I FELT A COOL BREEZE TODAY

Good mornin'. Taking the kids to school, I sensed something different. My hair was moving, a branch from a bush brushed over my head. I let Della (my pooch) go with us in the car. She hung her little head out the window and felt it too. Perfection. The AC was not on. That unnerving, but necessary whirrrrrrrrrrrr was silent. My son practices in full pads this afternoon. I hope for this wonderful "cold front" to continue. You can actually breath this stuff. It goes right up your nose without sending out that alarm to your brain that says, "It's hot, I can't breath, my nose is stopped up, I can barely move". Yes, love a good summer day, but.....an in-between season day is awesome and motivating.

IF YOU CAN'T SAY SOMETHING NICE ........

Well, won't have much to say. Here are some nice things I can think of:

1. Mike Miller (He plays for Memphis Grizzlies)
2. Lyle Lovette (Favorite Singer who is Ugly Hot)
3. My children are beautiful.
4. It's almost bedtime.
5. We got some rain today.
6'. God is good.
7. My Blog is fabulous and doesn't cause face to face confrontation.

GETTING PAST THE DREAD OF THE SHOWER

Well, here I sit.....sleepy in my eyes, half chewed ritz nab in my cheek waiting to be swallowed and typing. I know a shower will open my day to new possibilities and give me my groove back. Still......do I have to? If I complete this mission, I will have no excuse not to go to the grocer. Thinking maybe.......nap? Better not get comfortable. That's it. Cracker has been chewed and swallowed. Shower time. I already know I'm going to sit down in it. As they say....get 'er done. In approximately 50 minutes, I will be clean and fresh (at least physically).

TOTALLY MEZMERISED BY ELVIS YOU KNOW

Okay. Today I did not let Della (pooch) go with me to get in car pool line. She punished me by ripping up some kleenex. It's Elvis Death Day. Last night I got on a chat page with some koo koo people. They were arguing about his life/death/toilet habits/religion/drug use. Did you know you can actually send someone a sheep sound or one that sounds like a guy hitting you? I was hysterical. In honor of Elvis the Pelvis, I must have a moment of silence.shhhhhhhhhhh.okay.shhhhhhhhhhhh, again because I know you really didn't do the first one. I don't know how much sleep I got last night because I was afraid I would miss something. Remember......I have no life.

Good news. I missed the goal post completely and drove in unextreme road rage. As a matter of fact it was kind of sickly polite driver syndrome. See you later.

Leaning Tower of Basketball

1. Third day to take the kids to school. My dog, Della, (9" nails) jumped across my lap and left two gaping wounds in my cellulite. My son fell into the car and totally flattened his lunch. Yelling, screaming, barking...........Wham.....I slammed into the basketball goal for about the third time. This time it left a dent in my 1996 Ford Taurus (The Bullet). Whip lashed and choking to hold back a totally inappropriate word, I stayed parked on that goal post. Should I just keep pushing until it falls over. Maybe later I will try to reposition my car and strike it from another angle and try to straighten it up......or push it down.

Housewife Napping

Napping as a housewife is a VERY GUILTY INDULGENCE. Dropped the kids off and thought I might catch on the morning news. Oops! Two hours later. Decided to eat, take my pills, drink a Dr. Pepper, make normal round of calls and turn this messy house into a place. That's my job. I guess I'm late for work.

Then, I remembered........I have a blog. I'm a author now. I must not ignore the creative genius inside of me. I'm also eating peanuts. Need to go now. I don't care if anyone ever checks this or answers any of my questions. I am woman and I have a blog. Empowerment comes in many forms.

First Day

Wierd.........This is definitely not normal (at least for a blogger). It was so mentally exhausting trying to set this up so toodaloo. First day of school for children. I chose to expand my technological knowledge. I'm like that.......you know.....curious.