Saturday, July 25, 2009


Is there something wrong with me? I'm sitting here at my desk with my IPod in my ears groovin' to my new favorite tune (Forever by Chris Brown-yea, I'm not up to date, stupid wedding video...), typing on my blog, checking my texts on my mobile, and my facebook updates, and my email, and my Twitter account.

wait. we're quaking as I type this. How cool am I? stopping.and done.

That was just a wee tee tiny trembler. Or maybe just the air conditioner. oO/ <---crazy face Okay. Am I too plugged in? Is that possible? Is it an excuse not to deal with stuff? I like being plugged in. I like communicating with people electronically (is it electronically?...what we're doing? seems more sophisticated than that somehow.) I get to stay in touch with people all over the place. I think it's grand. I can't talk on the phone anymore because my stupid plan won't let me and I don't have the time anyway. While I'm doing this I can pull up research and address my school stuff.

Oh, it's late. I'm tired. Who cares anyway.


I was, once again, playing on Twitter and, once again, I was rather fascinated by the choice of "user names". These are the code names that people use on the computer. We all have them-or most of us do. They ensure anonymity and protection. User names keep our access safe from those who would do us or our identity harm, or potential harm. What I love about user names is the creativity that goes into them. Many I can figure out, some-I haven't a clue. I have virtually no creativity, let's face it, "debkatz" is about as transparent as a person can get. I'm an idiot.

But here are a few of the user names I ran across just these evening...

*squirrelsquisher: This takes longer to type than it does to say it.

*24sevenBFF: This is a person I follow on Twitter who is virtually everyone's BFF. She/he follows everyone as their BFF, spells in all caps, uses LOL, OMG, HAHAHA, the whole 9 yards, and speaks to all of these celebrities as though they are indeed, BFFs. It's hysterical.

*Pigooch: I just don't wanna know.

*gigglepantz: I just think it's cute.

*eattheemu: yea. you have to kind of look at that a minute, don't you?

*cosmicpilgrim: I love the juxtaposition of images that places in my weird.

*uyeahu: read that a couple of times, it's so rude, it's funny.

*scubatuba: another funny image.

*nanceinmypance: this was her latest status-"when you buy a toaster, it comes with an instruction manual in THREE languages. If you have a kid, you're on your own."

*testedonhumans: hmmmmmm

*that1guy: that's a personal favorite.

Wednesday, July 22, 2009


It's been so hot here *how hot is it?*..remember that on Johnny Carson? Well, this isn't that.

It's just been so stinking hot. And now the threat of thunder storms looms on the horizon. I don't think it will happen. Thunder storms never happen. They stop at the mountain. It may look threatening (threatening=some gray clouds), but all of the really good dramatic weather just flat stops at the tops of those mountains. Plus, do we really want 98% humidity AND 115-degree heat? Nahhhh...I don't think so.

I don't think I can actually explain this weather and do it justice. Imagine your blow dryer being the size of a house. Just make it that big. Now, turn it on high. Feel that hot air blowing that hard? That's my neighborhood right now. Strong gales of hot wind...HOT!!! Can you imagine it? It's nuts. As soon as you walk outside, it takes your breath away....YOUR BREATH AWAY!!!...and not in a good way. It dries your eyes out, it sucks the moisture out of your hair and skin-I'm totally dessicated. I'm a walking mummy. Ants and insects come into your house looking for..are you ready for this....WATER! Not sugar, not food, JUST WATER....they go to your bathroom! Any place where there is a sink. So, if you have a pet and you leave a bowl of water out! We leave a bowl out in a different place every day because we have to spray that area each crazy...

Last night, I watched an ant crawl into my keyboard between the letters "a" and "s". This is a macbook and they get hot....I hope it's cooked....that's not very zen of me, but unless that ant can type a dissertation, or at least contribute to the research, his butt is toast.

Costco finally...FINALLY...brought their shopping carts INSIDE so your hands aren't branded when you grab the cart outside their doors to go pick up those 150 corn dogs you need. Who buys those? What do I think I'm doing this weekend, throwing a state fair? Yikes.

And the best...THE my broken air conditioner in my car which only works (and only anemically) when I'm going 50 mph or better. It stops entirely when my car isn't going fast enough or when I'm stopped. Do you know how many lights I'm willing to run? Do you have any idea how many cars I've sped past? How many cyclists I've been willing to sacrifice for my comfort? Can you imagine how hot a car gets in 118 degree weather? Now imagine all of this with a middle-aged woman on hormones....a red light will make me weep...and pulling up behind a senior citizen with her blue hair and overly-large knuckles bent around the steering wheel can almost cause me to lose my religion...

I have to remember that one day (hopefully), I'll be that large-knuckled blue head....but I will not scoot pathetically in my sedan...oh no....not me....I'll be the cyclist.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


Things I think about to keep from doing homework....

When a screaming, lights a-flashin' ambulance arrives at a house and after a time leaves slowly, with no screaming siren or lights a-flashin', that's either really really good, or really really bad. I loathe living in a neighborhood where mostly old people live. I can't take it anymore. Warehouse of the living dead.

Apple IPod MP3 players are sparking, heating up, and catching on fire...FIRE!!!! YOU COULD BE NEXT!!! No, really. They're doing that. Be careful. One set off a fire alarm. Google it. Apple is grudgingly acknowledging it. Yikers. Deal with it, guys. Don't let you think people "talk"?

jogger one: How's that IPod?
jogger two: Burnt my arm off the other day in the park. I was running, minding my own business and sparks commenced. I thought I smelt carne asada. Turned out to be my pitching arm, man.
jogger one: Dude.
jogger two: I know! Right?
These two are from just doesn't get any deeper than that.

My dogs' paws are so fluffy now, they soak up dirty puddle water like little mops-he doesn't even leave prints. He's disgusting...or magic.

What if your pet really was magic? Would that be good...or bad? BAD DOG-NO NO! POOF! Your hands melt. Potty training would be a problem.

Having to dust EVERYTHING before I pack it so my new house won't get dirty the minute I move in is kind of like adding insult to injury...

Monday, July 20, 2009


We were at dinner last night with some friends and the topic of various youthful shenanigans that people committed came up for discussion. Some were cute, some were downright frightening. I am continually amazed how some of us survive into our middle years. The hand of God is apparent the older I get. The 50s and 60s were easier times, relative to today, and it seemed that kids could wander a little farther and a little more unencumbered by the nuisance of parental "accompaniment" sometimes...the stories we heard!!!...especially of tales growing up out here in the desert! Yikes.

Little kids filling up irrigation cisterns to go swimming in their underwear because they were hot. They were just so innocent.

Discovering (another) irrigation-type cistern UNDERNEATH an office and floating their little brother (about age 2) into the dark water and letting him go (they were only mere children themselves sneaking off after their naps)-miraculously this child just FLOATED on top of the water until they formed a human chain of little children to rescue their little brother from the middle of a this dark pool of subterranean water...amazing....and he's perfectly fine-no worse for wear....they're all fine, upstanding, wonderful people....she's one of my best friends!!!

Another friend who is pure Norwegian, with the electric blue eyes to prove it, somehow manifested a recessive gene that gave him black hair and rather tan skin, which is a beautiful combination. When his family went back home to Iowa in the mid 60s, he was driving out of their small hometown and he noticed he was being followed...he pulled over and two of the "townsfolk" told him they "didn't want his kind" in their town. His reply, "I was on my way out anyway" said in "you idiots" kind of way that he has...but he went to his father (who was FROM this town) and his dad said, "Oh no, we're going back and taking care of this"....which they did...

So I thought I'd chime in with one of my own. I said, "I remember a time when a few of us broke into an old, haunted insane asylum. We got through several doors and up to the third floor, to the spiral stairway, where the story of the haunting takes place. It was very creepy and very exciting." Everyone was staring at me. I was very impressed with my OWN self at this point. Peter then asked, "And how old were you when this happened Deborah?"


*a moment of stunned silence*

I guess some things are better dealt with in our youth. At least we have some excuse....

Friday, July 17, 2009


Because of school, I am compelled to look at various research studies. Lots of them. So many, I feel the need to often step outside in 115 degree heat, shake my head, make gagging sounds, and dance a jig before returning to my computer to read even more. I read studies about lots and lots of "things". We study many "things" in psychology and medicine. We observe many "things". We attempt to predict many "things". If there is anything odd-worthy, we seek after these "things".

A couple of things I've read this week; various studies on "adherence theories" and "gender differences in self-esteem" with their various models...

The adherence theories are rather interesting. Some people stick to their medical regimen or good-for-you behaviors and some people don't. It kinda sorta depends on your culture, your socioeconomic situation, etc. But here's what all the theories boiled down to. I can take a rich white person and a poor brown person (sorry, those are the choices people) and everyone in between (that covers everyone), throw them all...ALL....into a big pot, boil them all together, pour them out, and the average is (as is usually the case with just about everything) that 50% of people will stick to their regimen or behavior and 50% won't. There it is. So what am I?...a psych-in-training planning on doing about that?....not much. I have to juggle free-will in that mix. If someone knows something is good for them and they don't want to fix themselves, I just don't have a lot of tools for that scenario. Now, if someone needs help, I would be there. If they don't KNOW what to do, I'm all over it. If they need encouragement, I'm all over it. But if they, indeed, have all the answers and refuse help, hey!-good luck. That's where I stand on that issue to date...tomorrow, I may have more enlightenment....

About the gender issues...this seems so clear to me, my head wants to explode. Study after study after study after study demonstrates that male self-esteem (SE) is based on feeling unique or exclusive or different/better from others. They like to stand out from the crowd or possess something (typically an ability) that others don't have or have less of. Females on the other hand source their SE from their relationships, their interconnectedness-how well they "fit in". It's virtually the opposite of how males derive theirs. It's how it is. It's just HOW IT IS. I'm okay with this. It doesn't bother me. If it's how we're wired, why is it "wrong" or "bad" or need fixing or worse, DISPROVING? I read a study that attempted to prove that the above findings are possibly based on "opinions of peers and not, indeed, based on scientific fact". I am now stupider for actually having read that study. The authors were from France. Did they NOT grow up around a playground? Did they NOT watch OR play sports? Do me a favor, read a copy of "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamont and tell me that female relational self-esteem is "new". And then bite moi.

Thursday, July 16, 2009


I love my mailbox. My friend Nancy, in C-bus, recently wrote about the joy of receiving a package in her mailbox and I went crazy in agreement. Going to my mailbox and finding anything other than a bill is one of my most favorite daily activities. Yea, I hear you, "get a life, lady"....I even kinda sorta don't mind the junk mail. In fact, I LOVE the furniture ads...I always have...I can look/read furniture ads all day...I like the pictures they make in my head and the creative juices they get flowing...

But I think "snail mail" is a part of Americana that we need to keep going. My little dog follows me, and promptly marks his territory along the way. "Gee, good thing you're doing THAT little fella...the whole 12 pounds of you...wouldn't want that poodle down the street to get any ideas about moving in on your territory....these are YOUR palm trees! Who does Fluffy think SHE is anyway!"....but I digress...

We need to come up with a national campaign to promote letter writing! When all else fails, and it has, we need to resort to the old standby...GUILT. Let's come up with some campaign mottos/propaganda to be put on billboards around the country to motivate people to write to their friends and family. For the price of a stamp, which is up to $847.00, they can brighten someone's day and keep our American Way of Life going....Here are some starters...

"Write Your Mother" should become a national motto.... Or maybe this:

"What! You're too busy to write?"

"Oh, look who'd rather play a video game than write a loved one"

"The 11th Commandment: Write, already. They're family!"

"Writing a letter. It's good for the soul AND you're back in the will!"

"MAKE them walk to the mailbox, serves 'em right!"

Yea, well I'm relatively certain we won't see any of those on any billboards and I don't exactly LOVE all of the junk mail I get. In fact, when I get the annoying credit card solicitations or anything that has a postage-paid return envelope included (which is fewer and fewer these days), I cut up my other junk mail and stuff it in the postage-paid envelope and MAIL IT BACK TO THEM...they actually pay for their own stuff to be returned to them-confetti style...

How's THAT for keeping the tradition going?...heheheh

Wednesday, July 15, 2009


I just received my "latest update" from the World Health Organization (WHO) regarding the H1N1 flu that is coming our way. Are we getting our food and water stored up in the event that we just hang out in our houses if we chose to? Just would just be nice to have the's coming this fall...

The WHO called the flu "unstoppable" and said, "Several reports showed the new virus attacks people differently than seasonal flu -- affecting younger people, the severely obese and seemingly healthy adults, and causing disease deep in the lungs."

So...let me do my momma thing via my blog cause I'm not in your faces to do this...humor me, por favor...

*wash your hands
*don't touch your face
*if you have hand sanitizer-please use it. If you don't, rub your hands together quickly-quick enough to make them feel hot. That will get rid of A LOT of germs and bacteria.
*cough and sneeze into the crook of your arm-not your hands
*stay away from crowded places as much as possible
*if you're sick-don't go to work, to church, shopping, etc.
*if you're out and someone is sick, smack them silly, j/k-just seeing if you're still reading

This flu is a "distant cousin" of the flu that caused the 1918 pandemic flu, so those born before 1920 have some protective immunity against the's THAT for a kick in the pants...the old guys have an edge!

This virus is mean. It doesn't stay in the nose and throat like our other seasonal flu viruses. It replicates best deep in the lungs. It's also been shown to go to the gastrointestinal tract. Nice.

And then I read this:

"Obesity has been observed to be one of the risk factors for more severe reaction to H1N1" -- something never before seen...It is not clear if obese people may have undiagnosed health problems that make them susceptible, or if obesity in and of itself is a risk."

Again, I'm doing this because I'm a mom and I hate it when my kids get sick. I'm also a skosh worried about this flu. When the two are combined, you get blog entries like this. I promise to be sunnier tomorrow. Today, I have to remind my friends and family that this is real and to get ready before it hits. That's all.

And with any luck at all, I could be entirely wrong and WAAAAYYYYY OFF BASE.

Oh happy days!!!!!

Saturday, July 11, 2009


The boy is home. The boy is home.

I'm listening to sweet piano music as I type these words....

The boy is home. The boy is home.


Friday, July 10, 2009


There is a very funny trend right now on Twitter called, "1st draft movie lines", which is exactly what it sounds like. People are "twittering" what they think the first line of a famous movie line would be before it got tweeked by the writers. I'm enjoying them. I'm going to list some of my favorites and their "twitterers"....(writers)

You have to have a pretty good knowledge of movies (pop=culture) to get some of these, so test yourself. You don't win a single thing, but if you know the original, it makes these that much funnier.

From Tim Carvell (one of the writers for The Dailey Show)

"I wish we could chat longer, but I'm eating an old friend for dinner.

"Bond. James Bond, D.D.S."

"Play it for me, Sam. Play 'Pop Goes the Weasel'."

"I have one word for you. Just one word. Adultery. Possibly with Mr. Robinson's wife. She seems like the type."

and now, Rainn Wilson (Dwight Shrute from The Office)

"The first rule of Fight Club is: everyone *has* to bring something for pot-luck Mondays."

"Rosebutt, Rosebutt!"

A friend of Mindy Kaling (who plays Kelly on the The Office)

@DougBenson"You had me when you burst in here and said 'Hello.'

someone I follow named Jordan Rubin:

"I'm not surprised that it wasn't anyone else, Fredo.

"I'm Tarzan-- Jane, right?

"Go ahead, plan my day."

And now, Rob Corddry: (comedy actor/writer)

I'm Bruce Wayne! I mean... crap" (I cleaned that up...sorry)

"Shirley, you can't be serious" "I AM Shirley, & don't call me serious!"

"Toga Party tonight at the Delta House! Toga Party tonight at the Delta House! 456 Fraternity Row! Around tenish?!"

"Attica State Correctional Facility! Attica State Correctional Facility!"

"Adrian! Excuse me! Adrian!

"Surely you can't be serious!" "I am serious, and don't call me Shirley" "No, 'surely', s-u-r-e-l-y" "Oh, my bad.


As I look around here at the place where I'm soon leaving, I suppose I should be taking stock of things. What I will miss when I leave here. I've been a tad emotional for the last couple of months so I'm trying to avoid stepping into piles of emotion as I navigate my way through the next few weeks, but there are moments of reflection that one can't help when one is moving away from a location.... you know?

I've been in the desert since 2001. That's fairly respectable. Eight years is long enough to get a sense or a feel of a place. I really want to do this post justice, but I know when I finish, I'll have wished I would have written more....or possibly less.

I came to this desert with one husband and I'm leaving with another. I arrived with four children and I'm leaving with seven! I arrived with two grandchildren and leaving with 10...and I'm counting my Sammy-kins. I arrived with a high-school diploma and am leaving pursuing two graduate degrees. Came PC, leaving Mac.

The winters here are paradise. Ask any snowbird. And good luck finding a parking space at Costco. The summers are hell. Ask any snowbird. July and August-Costco is your oyster, sorta. But I will admit to loving the summer nights. I have posted this before and I will say it again; the human body is made for desert summer nights. The temperature outside is the same as the temperature of the surface of the skin. If you can lay still and quiet while outside on a summer night, you can lose your boundaries and if you can lie in a swimming pool,'re just gone.....that's a recipe for a mystical experience if I've ever known one....and I've known one...or two or three...

I will not miss the dust. I will not miss the dirt. I will not miss the brown. I will not miss the dry.
I will not miss the irresponsible misuse of water and over-arching need to make this arid, desert region look like a tropical paradise when in fact, it is a desert. Stop over-watering! Stop with the fountains, stop with the gardening, stop with the un-naturalness of it. If you want Hawaii, go there. This is a desert with cacti and succulents, which are beautiful in their own right. Save the water. Enjoy the rocks.

I still have a couple of weeks. I'll say good-bye then.

Thursday, July 9, 2009


I just read a review of one of the longest (perhaps "the") longest study on what constitutes happiness. It's a 72-year, longitudinal study performed at Harvard University. One of the researchers has devoted 40 years of his life to this study. 40 YEARS!!! The study followed "...268 men who had started college in the 1930s. The study followed the men through their educational years, careers, war experiences, marriages and families, illness, and old age." (Peterson 2009)

What "it" boiled down to, what the big secret was, what all the brou-ha-ha turned out to be was this: "
"That the only thing that really matters in life are your relationships to other people."

Conversely, what they discovered the biggest detriment to happiness was in this particular population of men, in this subculture, in this generation was....ready?...alcohol addiction. The key researcher, Vaillant said that, "
alcoholism was the single most negative factor in these men's lives."

This explains the cliche, "There ain't no luggage racks on the hearse". All we take are our relationships. That's it. Love, the ultimate carry-on.

Happiness appears to be a consequence of our choices. A consequence. Like any other consequence, good or bad. Isn't that interesting? This isn't earth-shattering news to those who have been taught to live within dietary constraints, to sacrifice for others and then to look for the joy that is inherent in that service, and always, always, always believe with every fiber of your being that the big payoff is coming, which leads to hope and about your recipe for happiness....home made yet!

Wednesday, July 8, 2009


I follow this guy on Twitter named, "jordanrubin". He's random and funny. He just tweeted, "If I was friends with a Centaur, I'd pick a fight with him just so I could say, "Let's settle this Mano a Mano-Horso." He tweets silly stuff a few times a week. But I thought about it, because I'm avoiding homework again, but that's beside the point, but I thought about different things I could be friends with....because my brain is a big cartoon....and in this cartoon, everything talks and walks and sings and, I'm not medicated, but probably should be....and in this cartoon, if things aren't my actual friends, then they're at least I imagined....

If I was friends with a dung beetle, you know, those bugs that shoot out nasty smelling fumes, I would let him win every single argument....
me: The sky sure looks blue, eh?
beetle: The sky is orange!
me: You betcha.

If I was friends with a tree, I would never climb it because I would feel bad about putting my dirty shoes all over my friend's skin and possibly hurting him. Plus, my friend could possibly see up my dress.
If I was friends with my old kindergarten teacher, I would ask her if anyone else ever told her she resembled a giraffe or did my weirdness, indeed, begin at age four.

If I was friends with my right knee, I would take it to lunch and ask it, "Hey partner, what needs to happen to make you straighten out again, huh? What can I do just for you?" And then I would pick up the tab, which shouldn't be too much because I'm telling you, this knee? never eats a thing!!!

If I was friends with all of my unborn grand children, I would tell them, "Hey, you're all much smarter than me, but I'll be wicked fun when your parents are out of town, so be nice"

If I was friends with a rock, I would ask it how it came to be so incredibly patient....

Monday, July 6, 2009


How notorious do I have to be to have the word "gate" added to whatever "something" I've gotten myself into?

Possible scenarios....

I'm moving all this month. I hate it. Really. Hate. It. It's so disturbing to me, that I can barely crawl out of bed in the afternoon. It's bad. I walk around and resist throwing virtually everything into the trash can. That's my form of organization. Would that be so bad? Why can't I do that? Outside of some cards and pictures and a rock I fell in love when I was 11, what's there to keep? Why can't I just toss it all? We would call it "Garbage-gate".

I can't gain weight. Yes. I know. Wahhh. But it's a little problematic. After a certain age, it's really not a good idea. "Experts" maintain that a 5-10 pounds extra isn't such a bad idea to guard against the malnutrition that often comes with aging. Really. Also, thin is painful. Ask my butt. Go ahead. I double-dog-dare-ya. My butt will complain all day about the hardness of the seats available in today's society. Every seat is uncomfortable. And now, my back is getting in on the deal. "Don't lean back", it screams at me, "this chair is nice and comfy like Charles Manson on his fourth espresso"....."weight-gate"

I'm writing a paper in my Social Psychology on same-sex marriage. My goal in writing this paper is to attempt to be so non-biased in presenting just the facts, as well as coming up with an appropriate social theory, and a concrete action for addressing "the problem" as I see it, that no one, absolutely no one, will be able to tell which side I stand on. Because this is such a hot-button subject and because people being people and if-you-don't-profess-one-side-you-must-be-on-the-other-side-mentality, I have a prediction (hypothesis): the pro-LGBTQ community (because I am not openly supporting same-sex marriage or calling it "marriage equality") will condemn me as a "bigot" and a "hater", while the "born-again" fundamentalists in my class will (because of my clear cut non-adherence to Biblical quotage and bias) will consider me pro-LGBTQ/anti-family and possibly a lesbian...."Mo-Gate"

I found out on Sunday that the easiest way to dress a dead person is with a one-piece garment. You just "slide it up over the feet, straight up the arms and voila! You've got a dressed dead person! And make sure it's nylon. That stuff just slides right up over the skin. I know. I'm an expert. I've dressed six people." My reaction? "Hi. I'm Debbie. Your name?" ......"Stunned-gate"

me out.......out-gate
ADDENDUM: Just in case people don't know me, I am all for equal rights as outlined in section 297.5 of the State of California Family Code Section, which clearly outlines all of the rights and privileges of same sex couples as spouses under the law, I am, however, against redefining marriage as being anything other than between one man and one woman. That's all. All for equal rights, just don't want the definition changed. There. I'm relatively certain I lost a fair percentage of my let me fill in the blank for ya..."Bigot-gate" "Miss California-gate" "Hater-gate" "Moron-gate" 'bout this "I still love ya-gate" neener neener....


Friday, July 3, 2009


Oh no...a friend of my on FB turned me on to a new fun site:

It's soooo much fun. I sketched all four of my kids' faces just using my mouse pad, which means my index finger sliding over a little square pad. So...I'm going to post them here IF you don't make fun of them or me....okay?....Can you guess which ones are which?

HAHAHAHAHA.....let me know if you know who they are in order of appearance....HAHAHAHAHA....I had so much fun doing this.....

Thursday, July 2, 2009


If I had a magic wand, I would do lots of things...but I'm only going to list a few. I bet you have a few things you'd like to do also. Wouldn't a wand come in handy sometimes? Think about it....

When I was a little girl, I was enamored of Fairy Godmothers...I wondered who mine was and when she would show up. I didn't think about Prince Charming. I wondered endlessly about my Fairy Godmother. Was she tall or short? Was she fat or thin? Did she fly all by herself or ride a pumpkin drawn by mice? I didn't care. I really didn't. I just wanted her to show up already.

So...seeing as how my F.M. believes me to be capable of handling my own life (Nice call THERE mum), I thought I would list a few of the things I would like to do if I could get my hands on that wand I've been dreaming about for over five decades. This is a partial list. I'll think of better ones after I sign off on this post. I always do. So, in anticipation of that, I listed this post as "part one". There may be a future "fun with magic wands" post....there may not. If there are things you would like to do with a magic wand, please feel free to share....

*I would like the magic wand (MW) to enable me to understand every single foreign language uttered on the planet, because it will be going with me to the nail shop...that's right "Steve", I'm coming FOR YOU!!!!

* I would shake it at certain drivers so that their cell phones explode in their hair, causing a sticky green glue that remains there for 3 days. OH YEA....OH PLEASE YEA....

*Every time I opened up a jar of peanut butter, it would be brand spankin' new. I'd get to do that "decorate-the-top-with-the-butter-knife-design" that you just know everyone does but doesn't admit to. Every time.

*bye bye hair products....swoosh of the MW...and not just "style"...I'm talking length, color, you name it.....I would be the veritable "Barbie" of hair...and while we're talking "Barbie"....nah...

ME: Peter? Who are you looking at?
PETER: What? I'm not looking at anyone.
ME: Yes. Yes you are! Aren't you looking at that attractive young woman over there?
PETER: What attractive young woman?
ME: Exactly. Because there's just a little Italian man with a pet monkey now, isn't there?
PETER: Please don't hurt me.

Well, I think I've done enough damage here. I'd better get back to writing my paper...although the idea of shaking that wand at that mouthy young person down the street is really tempting....and don't get me started about the "15 ITEMS OR LESS" line at the grocery....oh my gosh....I'm getting my keys RIGHT NOW.....

Wednesday, July 1, 2009


I watched a video clip from the Associated Press of Ms. Farrah Fawcett's funeral. What a beauty she was...she truly "stomped on the terra"....RIP Ms. Fawcett...

During the video, a Mr. Eliot Tiegel spoke about "celebrity funerals" and how "entertaining" they are and how different they are from ordinary funerals....really?.....He talked about how musical it was and how celebrities showed up and how "very stirring" the funeral was....he called it a "show business funeral"....and then he went on to explain that Ms. Fawcett's son, Redmond, was able to attend, in handcuffs because he was allowed out of jail for the event; oh! and he was accompanied by three plain-clothesed policeman as he read a psalm at his mother's funeral...that was show-bizzy...

I really dislike (and I'm using that word lightly) the "glorification" that celebrity brings to people. Farrah Fawcett was stunningly beautiful and rocked the world in the 70s, it's true, but she was a celebrity...not Mother Theresa. She didn't feed a multitude, she didn't perform miraculous feats. She was a celebrity. Thousands of good people die daily without plaudits or fanfare. Their funerals are quite stirring, thank you very much Mr. Tiegel. Most of them even have family members attend without handcuffs OR cops. Occasionally, there is music; sometimes crying. How's THAT for stirring?

I would challenge anyone to have more fun AND tears at a funeral than we did when my children's father passed away in May. The love in that building was palpable! It was plenty "stirring", but also plenty of laughing...our family has been known to combine the two (love & laughter)...maybe too much....

Example: The funeral was held in the same building where Don and I raised all of our children. None of the kids have done "time". We're so proud. Each of the children spoke. They've all spoken in this building from the time they were small children. Quite small. Two of the kids, the ones mentioned below, spoke from this same pulpit to give their missionary farewells. But I digress....

Emily speaking to the crowd from the pulpit over the coffin of her father: "One weekend when I was in college, I called home begging my dad to send extra funds so I could travel to Salt Lake for the weekend with some friends. He said he would send me some money on the condition that I promise to take care of him when he got old. I guess I scored on that one!"

Eli's turn: "Once, as we were ... driving.... my father hit the brakes suddenly. A baby bird was struggling in the middle of the street. He wordlessly got out of the car, carefully and lovingly picked up the baby bird with his huge hands, walked over to a nearby front yard, and situated the baby bird into a line of shrubbery where he made sure the bird was safely placed out of harm’s way as much as possible. He then returned to the car and silently drove us home. He never said a word, but the lesson by his example was never forgotten. That lesson was that the weakest and most vulnerable among us deserve the loving attention of the strongest and mightiest."

The stories went on: The kids catching their dad giving money to the homeless, sometimes it was everything in his pocket; my brother weeping for the "big brother" he never asked for, but got anyway; and did I mention that there were no handcuffs or cops in the entire place?...and get this....not one celebrity.