WEIRD/GOOD/BAD OLD DAYS....

Remember the weird/good/bad old days when the rule was this, "Never discuss politics, religion or sex in company". I have come to appreciate that particular rule of civility. One of the main reasons I stopped watching the Oscar award show was because of the awkward acceptance speeches and their political agendas. I like the rain forest. I have even prayed for the rain forest. But I don't want my favorite leading man or woman to spout off about it during their 30 second acceptance speech. Say "thank you" please, and sit down. Please...let me see them getting served at a bistro in Beverly Hills and while their server is placing their green tea-oxygen drink in front of them, say in rushed/hushed tones, "Here's your order and please, for the love of all thinks holy, pray for the endangered Venezuelan beaver mite. The artificial proliferation of the high-canopied bump monkey, due in part to the imbalance of the algae in the Amazon, is wrecking havoc on the beaver mite. Please, won't you use your power and influence to do the right thing?" I don't think so...

I just don't think we're powerful enough to change peoples' minds. We're all wired to think a certain way and that's that. In fact, I think I've said before, our brains are actually wired to RESIST being changed. That's why getting someone to think differently is so difficult. Huzzah to missionaries!!! But I suppose that's a different thing altogether.

Let people vote exactly how they're going to vote because the truth is, they're going to do it anyway. Certainly, make opportunities available for people to speak their minds. Allow and even advocate for people to educate themselves. Puhleese, advocate for people to educate themselves. But then let it go. Don't call them names for voting differently from you. And for goodness sakes, when did we start asking people for whom they voted?!? When did that stop being a private affair???

I'm so appalled at the actions of our political parties of late, I no longer consider myself a Democrat OR a Republican. It's embarrassing to see the actions of people I should be respecting---on BOTH sides, no less.

I don't typically rant. I leave that to people who are smarter and funnier than me. But yikes, people...

I'm rather missing the days of civility.

DISNEY, CAPTAINS, CREEPY LADY....

Wow! What a full weekend I've had. I didn't think anything would happen...but YOWSA, was I wrong or what!!!!

It started off sketchy. Thursday I was feeling sketchy and I thought, "Oh great. Here comes that intestinal flu I've managed to avoid for about a decade. I'll be vomiting up my soul by noon", but alas, nada....just some fatigue...YAY....so THAT was a gift!

On Friday, I went with Em and the kids to Disneyland, which, need I remind you, is "The Happiest Place On Earth" and where Clarkie had a complete temperamental melt-down. I thought, "Hey! You're not behaving in a happy fashion!", but that didn't seem to resonate with the child. So, when his mother walked away and left him with just moi, he snapped out of it BINGO and we resumed our normally scheduled programs. It was off to watch the live show of Aladdin. Yikkers, it was amazing, complete with a the happy couple singing while flying a magic carpet over our heads in the theater, gold confetti spitting out over the audience, realistic though quilted horses and an elephant being ridden through the audience...let's just say, there were no bad seats...

And then we went to "A Bug's Life", where everything is super big, so that you feel like you're the size of a bug. I LOVED it. In place of grass, they've planted leafy bamboo. The lights are made of huge straws with fireflies on the top shining light through their....umm....hinder sections...

We went on a couple of rides there, bought some cotton candy and discovered that my mature, well-grounded, very put-together daughter can eat two packages of the pink stuff by herself if left to her own devices....yep! She's a chip off the ol' block...I couldn't be prouder...

We then took a jungle cruise and the captain was hysterical. We passed the Temple of Doom and she said, "There's Indiana Jones trying to get the secret treasure out of the Temple of Doom...little does he know I am right here..."

We then went on the Pirates of the Caribbean...oh my gosh....it was fantabulous...warm, watery, dramatic, colorful, and that was just our seats in the boat!!! J/K. It really was great and an added boon?....it smelled like bleach, which is a big winner to me. I love the smell of chlorine bleach. If Disney had a ride called "Bleach, spray starch, and Comet", I would live there.

(By the way, does anyone remember when the cleanser "Comet" was called "Dutch Cleanser"?)

Before we left the park, we took the kids to the bathroom to change into their PJs and brush their teeth because they go right to bed when they arrive home-asleep... Anyway, I was waiting for the three to come out of the stall and a little boy was crawling along the floor underneath the stall door. He didn't care about germs, he was at Disneyland and he was having fun. He was even smiling as he was doing it. His mother, a tall, extreme-looking woman, sternly said, "Hey, that's disgusting. Stand up right now and come over here this instant." You notice a lot of exhausted Mommies and Daddies after dark (typically). Anyway, she saw that I noticed him so, out of habit, I smiled at the child and then smiled at her. It was an I'm-not-judging-you-as-a-parent-cause-kids-will-be-kids-smile. And then I turned away. Emily came out at that point and noticed the woman staring at me. Em hadn't seen the boy or anything up to that point. It took a few minutes to get Mae's teeth brushed and her hands washed, etc, and Em whispered, "Why is that woman looking at you like that?" I said, "Is she's looking at me kind of intently?"

Em said, "Yea, is she mad at you? What did you do?" .....nice......

I explained what had happened and Em says, "She's still looking at you. I'm getting creeped out."

"Why? Does she appear armed?"

"Okay, now I'm really creeped out"

So, I said to forget it, which of course, she didn't and we made our way out of that restroom, looking behind us the entire way. It was THAT odd. Em said her look was one of "I know that woman from somewhere and it's killing me and I'm going to stare at her until one of us figures it out!"....kind of thing. I don't know...very interesting tho....

Well. I'm out of room. The rest of the weekend was sweet also. Dinner with Peter to celebrate the end of last quarter followed by a video at home (Happy Accidents-an older indie film) and today was Church (always great), followed by a live production of an original musical on Easter called, "A Ransom For Many". Very beautiful.

Caio!

COOKIES, HAWKING, PSYCHING OUT THE BUYERS....

The onslaught of Girl Scout Cookies is upon us. Remember when you had to actually know someone to purchase them? Those days are over! I'm all for the new way of thinking. Just get out there and move your product. Why do you have to know an actual Girl Scout to buy the cookies? Why must those girls have to knock on doors of strangers to move the product?

These days they are out in full force hawking their product in front of the local supermarkets. Of course, it's usually their mom's doing the deeds, but they're making money for their troops and the girls are typically right there with their leaders doing the foot-work, running to get the boxes, counting the change, etc. It's a beautiful thing.

The other day I was coming OUT of the store and a little girl was standing in front of her mom doing the "selling". She would stand there rather shyly and approach each person as they were leaving the store, saying such things as, "Do you wanna buy a box of cookies"? My heart was breaking. I politely declined, but as I was parking my shopping basket and picking up my bags I witnessed this little girl devolve into a pool of tears after her final rejection. I ran over and said, "How much?" To which the mother smiled (while stroking her daughter's head) and said, "four dollars". I just gave her a five and took whatever box they had (which, luckily was the groovy coconut/caramel/chocolate dribble). I then advised her to turn her daughter around and approach the people as they came INTO the building while they were still hungry (hopefully) and had some cash (hopefully) and weren't over budget. Psychologically, I think they (maybe) had a better chance of selling....

Last night they got me again....two boxes worth....the lemon ones, this time...but the little girl running the display stand added this, "Yea, and these aren't the ones from San Diego that smelled so they had to recall them!"....thanks, honey....

I'm eating them as I type this....

I'll be so glad/sad/thinner when cookie season ends.....

KISS, VOCAL CORDS, LEFT NOSTRIL

I saw an ENT today. That's an Ear-Nose-Throat specialist. I went because my throat is getting bigger and my voice gets hoarse when I speak for any length of time. So....I went to my referred specialist. And much to my surprise, apparently he's the vocal cord specialist to the stars!!! The walls are covered with personalized photos of Sinatra, the Beatles (especially Paul), lots and lots of actors, etc. It was pretty impressive. I figured I was in good hands. In my particular room, I had the pleasure of looking at a photo of my physician and Gene Simmons from KISS clowning around in what appeared to be a bar or restaurant.

So my doctor came in and he was delightful. We spoke for a bit and then he had to *gulp* scope me. YIKES. So they sprayed wanna-be cocaine into my sinuses and had me hold my head back so it would drain down my throat. That didn't bode well for what was to come. He had to thread a tube with a light and a camera through my nasal passages down into my throat down to my vocal cords to look at my "new adam's apple".

ME: Hmmm....can you go through the left nostril? The right nostril has a deviated septum.

DOC: Sure.

Doc begins the insertion process, starts threading the camera tube and hits a blockage...backs up and hits it again...backs up and hits it again...then says....

DOC: Looks like you have another deviation on this side down here.

ME: *thinking, lucky me!!!!*

DOC: Let's try it at a different angle.

ME: *not saying anything because THERE'S A FREAKING TUBE THREADED THROUGH MY FACE....MY FACE, PEOPLE!!!!!!

He attempts once again and gets through. I would say "YAY", except now he's threading a tube through my face, through the back of my mouth, and down my throat. This is so NOT natural, I'm almost laughing. Almost.

He now asks me to say, "eeeeeee" a number of times at different pitches, or notes, or tones, whatever. I have to imitate him. And there's a tube in my throat, which makes me want to swallow. Because there's a tube in my throat. I can't stress that enough.

He withdraws the tube and says, "Lets watch the video together!" the same way I say, "Let's watch Talk Soup with Joe McHale!" The only thing missing was, Joe McHale....and laughter.

And then he turned on the "video" and I saw the most beautiful thing. It appeared to be a veil. It was stunning. It was almost poetic. I watched it shimmy and move. The light caught it and I thought, "Isn't the body amazing"? It's a work of art, really!

So as I was caught up in this rapturous adulation of the human body, he pointed to this same structure and said, "See this, this is horrible. It's gross. it's mucous. You really need to get rid of this. I'll write you a couple of prescriptions. You have some allergies."

I thought, "Wait a minute....that doesn't look like that mucous in the Mucinex commercials!" Whatever.

So, he told me to get some Mucinex and some nasal spray. I also have a nodule on my left cord. I asked him how a nodule came to be and he said, "These things arise from misusing your vocal cords."

I wondered how I could have "misused" my vocal cords. Did I ever take out my vocal cords and dust with them? Was it all of those rock concerts I performed at in the 70s?.....j/k It's not like I karaoke on a regular basis....or even on an infrequent basis....I can count the times on both hands I've done that...with fingers left over. How have I possibly misused my vocal cords?

Well....so that's that. I'm up there in the big leagues now. Frank Sinatra, Elton John, and me. We're all part of the siblinghood...the vocal cord nodule club. I wonder if their mucous was as pretty as mine....

DO THE NEAR-ELDERLY MAKE MY BUTT LOOK BIG?

Well, well, well. Note to self. Do not EVER read research that address my generation. Never.

In a recent article I meant to briefly scan but unfortunately fell into like the sneaky rabbit hole it is, I read that Boomers, people aged 55-64 years old, are now considered "near-elderly". While I'm not quite there yet (what time is it, badda bing!), I have never considered anyone in that age range "near-elderly" *. What in the world...

The article discussed research from 2007 that maintains the "near-elderly" are costing the U.S. a boat-load of health care money; even more than the "real" elderly.

I don't know what to make of that, but what really has me intrigued is the modifier "near". That's a big loop hole, ain't it? Because I can think of lots of things to say that would be considered offensive, or kind, or loving, or mean, but their meanings could quite possibly change entirely if one was to put the word "near" or "nearly" in front it.

For instance:

I love you in that hat....I nearly love you in that hat.

My dog got hit by that car....My dog nearly got hit by that car.

She's a beauty.....She's a near beauty.

The vampire is dead....The vampire is nearly dead.

You'll sleep tonight....You'll nearly sleep tonight.

Peter? Do these pants make my butt look big?.....Don't even try it, Pete.






* Source: AHRQ, Center for Delivery, Organization, and Markets, Healthcare Cost and Utilization Project, Nationwide Inpatient Sample (NIS), 2007

BUTTERFLY KISSES, GERMS, NEW ORLEANS JAZZ....

I'm rather frightened sometimes that I sound like a one-trick pony..."wow, all that woman ever writes about is her grand kids or family"...yes, it's probably true. But if you were around them, you would write about them also because they're so funny and bright. Yes, that's a grandmotherly perspective, I know. I hear myself say those words and it's like, "Really, Debbie? Did you just say that?"....but they're so funny because their parents are funny and they act like their parents!!! I watch them watch their parents and they emulate them with hand movements and other non-verbals and it's hysterical to watch little people behave like that! It's also funny when they communicate. I'll stop trying to explain myself now. This is why I placed a moratorium on trying to explain myself. One-I don't do it well and I tend to raise more questions than I answer. Two-I'm in my fifth decade and I don't have to do it so much anymore. Three-pffffftttttttt.

So, that said, here's what happened yesterday. First, for my peeps who aren't on Facebook. Yesterday when I referred to myself as "an idiot", my 2-year-old grandson came to my defense by saying, "Her no idiot, her a toy!". Thanks buddy...But to continue...

I was at Emmy's with the kiddos. They're ill with bad chest colds. They have asthma and therefore are on antibiotics, steroids, inhalers, nebulizers, vaporizers, things you have to rub into their bellies (just kidding on that last one), but you get the idea. I'm telling you, between the lot of 'em you can maybe get one and half good, functional lung.

Anyway, Em was resting and I was holding both of the kids (age 5 and 2) and I said to the 2-year-old, "do you know how to do a butterfly kiss?". He said, "Yes! I know how to do a butterfly kiss!" at which point he grabbed my face by both my cheeks, and I saw his mouth moving closer and closer to my left eye. I then felt his lips in my eye area and he began sucking on my eyelids. I'm now yelling, "HEY! HEY!" But then his sister thinks, "cool game, let's suck grandma's eyes out of their sockets". So she (who is big and strong) attacks my other eye with her cute little face and they are both now kissing, slobbering and laughing on top of both my eyes. At this point, I can actually feel their germs partying in my face as they make their way through my sinuses like a New Orleans Jazz Funeral....dancing, playing instruments, and preparing to bury themselves deep within the membranes of my nose, throat and ears to resurrect in a day or two as the beautiful infections they were born to be. But I don't care because every single minute was totally worth it. All of those giggles, all of those chubby fingers on my cheeks, every kiss, every hug-all of it was totally worth it.

When I wake up with a headache, or a stuffy nose, Imma smile and dance cause Imma remember those butterfly kisses.....

HANK TUDOR, KING OF THE HILL.....

I have an interest that I've enjoyed for years and years and years. I kept it in the closet for most of my life because few, if any, shared it and because if it became known, I would be the crowned Her Royal Highness, Geekela Supreme. It's not THAT odd, but growing up in the 60s and 70s, no one else actually shared it with me and I already felt out of place so...I kept it to myself. However, because I have a daughter-in-law who also is rather enamored of such things (love you Abby), although she has maintained it at a sane level, and with the proliferation of historical novels and television series devoted to the more titillating characters from history, I can come clean and confess my relative obsession with royal blood lines. I simply love stories and anecdotes and the history of the royal houses of Europe. LOVE THEM!!! Let me explain how deeply geekified I have gotten into this royal bloodline thing. One time, my sister Judy (an epidemiologist) and I traced Queen Victoria's mutant (or was it?) hemophiliac gene through all of the major houses of Europe and Russia through her offspring and grandchildren. That's almost pathetic.

Anyway, Showtime has done this incredible job with its series on the The Tudors (irrespective of how accurate), I am most definitely enthralled even more. I'm watching the 3rd installment in the series and even Peter is fascinated. Showtime has spared no expense in the shooting of this magnificent series. The scenery, the costuming, the sets, the buildings, but more than that, this third season has the most delicious and profound writing of them all. I'm slow on the viewing of it because I've had to wait for the series to become available via Netflix....so you may be way ahead of me...it doesn't matter, we all know how it turns out, right?

Henry the 8th, besides struggling constantly with his own demons (he wasn't even supposed to be the king in the 1st place, his older brother Edward was, but died prematurely while married to Catharine of Aragon, a sheroe in her own right), is reforming the Church of England and because his affections are so easily turned from one to another, his doctrine is influenced by whomever he's married to, or his grief, or his hatred. It's an amazing process to watch and Showtime has totally delivered. One big problem is the sexual content. Okay, okay, okay, I get it, Henry liked the ladies...a covert glance and a shadowy figure leaving his room can convey as much as a sweaty body....got it!

Anyway, I'm in geek heaven. And I'm extra happy because I have a week off between semesters so I can finish this third season with relative ease and guilt free. awwww.....

Bring it on Hank....