Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
Once again, everyone is nestled asleep in their beds... and the house is somewhat back to normal.
As Christmas Day draws to an end, I am left here sitting and thinking of something funny to write about. Believe it or not, every week, for the past five years or so, I have been able to come up with an idea and attempt to put it in a funny light.
Typically, there are two ways I come up with ideas for FGF.
The first is simple... something will happen during the week and strike me as being funny. I may embellish that event, or I may even make up a fact or two. Like I have said many times before, the things I write about are 85% true, 10% exaggerated and 5% made up. But the actual events always occur... I just put my own little spin on them.
The second way is a bit trickier. The second method only occurs when nothing happens that strikes me as funny enough to write about... at least not fifteen paragraphs worth. It is at that point that I think of a theme and then think back about events in my life that fit that theme.
Well, nothing really funny happened this past Christmas week, so I have been thinking about some theme. The past two days have been spent entirely with my wife and kids and have been overcome by the idea that this past year has been such a gift. I am unbelievably blessed and I truly have... A Wonderful Life.
So there is my theme... this past year has been further proof that I have a Wonderful Life.
By the way, I like the movie, It's a Wonderful Life, but I don't really love that movie. I think that George Bailey should have had it all figured out way before Clarence came onto the scene. Three nice kids and a beautiful wife... but it always bothered me the way that he got upset with ZuZu as she practiced her piano and was so short with his other kids because Uncle Billy lost all of the business's money. I get that his professional life was in shambles... but those kids had nothing to do with it.
On a side note, what does it say about me that I have reservations about the movie It's a Wonderful Life because George Bailey is short with his wife and kids but, on the other hand, I love the movie, The Godfather and it's main character, Michael Corleone. I suppose I can rationalize it by pointing out that George mistreated his family for a no good reason while Michael did bad things to... protect his family.
Ah, family... the reason that I have such a Wonderful Life.
All of my life, I have been surrounded by a great family, but this past year has been a bit different. My father passed away about four years ago, and about a year ago, my mother made the decision to move in with us. This is her second Christmas with us, and each year we make sure she has her own pile of gifts under the tree, that her stocking is stuffed and that she takes part in all of our Christmas activities.
As she went to bed this evening, she hugged me and thanked me for all that I do for her and for taking care of her. I told her it was not a problem, and I reminded her that I have only been taking care of her for one year, but she took care of me for many more than that. I owe her about twenty or thirty more. She provided everything that I ever needed and continues to provide inspiration, love and support every day that she is with us.
My mother told me that I was right... Yeah, you're right, you still owe me a few years!
In reality, taking care of my mother is easy because I don't really do it... Cheryl does.
I mean, I pay for stuff but that's about where my contribution ends. The day to day dealings are entirely up to Cheryl and she does it with such a loving heart. Oftentimes, watching Cheryl take care of my mom brings me to tears. In fact, there are a lot of things that Cheryl does that bring me to tears. I often describe her as the nicest person that God has ever put on this Earth... and most of the time I mean it!
Cheryl's gentle love and guidance to my mother is a great example for our three kids. Each one of my kids makes me proud every day of their lives.
Grace had a bit of a rocky start to her college career... which meant that I had a bit of a rocky start to her college career... but has more than hit her stride. She loves her life up at The Mount and is destined for great things. She continues to develop as a student and as a person. She is an independent thinker that is right every time she agrees with me.
She is only home for holidays and school breaks but pitches in and jumps right into the day to day activities. On a side note... she also picks out great gifts for her dear old dad from the Mount Book Store... scored a sweet sweatshirt and hat this year.
Matthew is enjoying his high school career... working hard on his academics and his athletics. Although it is questionable whether he is getting taller than I, he is lifting weights and working out almost every day... and he thinks he is stronger than I. He may be right.
Based on his homework assignments, there is no doubt that he is smarter than I... but don't tell him any of this... I am too old and too tired to take him down a peg. He opens doors and walks with my mom and is never too busy to take time out of his day to offer his assistance.
He too, got his pop a sweet Spalding High School Sweat Shirt!
Noah continues to amaze us with his art, his piano playing, and his love for cooking. All skills have turned out pretty well for Cheryl and me this Christmas season. We commissioned him to draw a few pictures of our friends' families saving us money on gifts, and his cooking keeps us fat and happy! Noah even painted a sign for me and gave me a massage bar. Seems he is also aware of my getting older and more tired!
Noah is home every day with Cheryl and my mom, and I think that the bond between the three of them has been an amazing thing to watch. The only problem is that Noah has a hard time cooking in the same kitchen as my mom. It is like two diva's vying for the same prize! Fortunately, they make it work!
In reality, having my mother live with us this past year has been the real gift and it is a joy to watch Cheryl and the kids give their love and support to my mother on a daily basis. Each helps out with whatever Grandma needs and they have never... not once... ever complained. To the contrary, they volunteer to do more than what is asked of them.
This year, I hope that you all enjoy the gift of your family and that you realize that it is your family that makes it a truly Wonderful Life.
God bless you and your family and have a very Merry Christmas!
Friday, December 25, 2015
Friday, December 18, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Choosing just the right white elephant...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
Our office had its yearly Christmas luncheon today. This is confined to employees only and should not be confused with our annual Christmas Party where we invite all of our clients, friends and family. We typically have everyone out at a restaurant for food and drink and a Chinese Gift Exchange.We all know how the Chinese Gift Exchange works... everyone brings a gift and throws it onto a table. Typically, there is a spending limit so each gift is comparable in value. Each participant is assigned a number and the first person selects a gift off the table and unwraps it. The next person can either steal the first person's gift or select a new one from the pile.
If your gift is stolen, you then have the option to either steal from another person or select a new gift from the pile. Each gift can be stolen up to three times. Once the last gift is unwrapped, the original person has the final move and can either keep his or her gift or exchange it with one of the unwrapped gifts.
The first time that I had ever played this game was when Cheryl worked for a real estate company. The office hosted a party and had everyone bring a small git for the Exchange. About sixty people participated. One guy, in particular, really got under my skin. Of course, it could not have been some random agent or a receptionist. No siree... this guy was the owner of the company.
He was an older gentleman that had done quite well for himself and probably could have purchased all of the gifts at the party with the change he found in the seats of his car so none of these gifts was going to make or break his Christmas season. Well, this guy selected early and chose from the pile one of the gifts that Cheryl had brought to the party... a couple of decorative boxes to hold VHS tapes and a few blank tapes for recording family memories (it was back in the day, before iPhone cameras... I know I am dating myself but at the time, everyone used VHS tapes).
Anyway, this guy did not care for his gift selection and spent the next several rounds whining and complaining about his gift. He did not stop until a friend of Cheryl's relieved him of the boxes.
Happily, he stole a large nutcracker.
Then he was happy and spent the next several minutes advising everyone of how happy he was to be done with those silly boxes. He was also confident in the knowledge that none of his employees would make a final steal on this nutcracker. He was sure that things were going to work out just fine for him and his nutcracker.
Unfortunately for him, I was not his employee.
Even more unfortunate for him, I was number fifty nine. Under normal circumstances, I would never take a gift from someone who professed such love and happiness. But these were not normal circumstances. From the minute that he sat down with that nutcracker, I plotted my revenge. I actually found myself just sitting there staring at him and waiting for my number to be called. When it was, I marched right over to him and made the third and final steal. Dude did not know what hit him. I then marched right back to my seat and plopped down with my nutcracker by my side.
The boss man mentioned that I really must have wanted that nutcracker... and he was right. But not for the reason he thought. I mean I liked the nutcracker, but that is not why I stole it. It could have had a big bag of dog doo and I would have still stolen it. There was just no way on this earth that I was going to let that guy walk out the door with the gift that he wanted.
In the process, I killed two birds with one stone: I avenged my wife's honor and I got a cool nutcracker. So it turned out that everything worked out just fine for me and my nutcracker.
Nowadays, these Chinese Gift Exchanges still cause great anxiety.
First, I worry about the gift that I buy. I don't want to bring a gift that nobody wants and nobody wants to steal. If you have any doubts that I am competitive, I always want my gift to be the first one to be stolen three times.
If necessary, I will blow past the spending limit to ensure that one of my co-workers gets a gift that they really want... and in the process make me look like the thoughtful, generous gift giver that I am.
I have always been concerned about the gifts that I give. This goes back to the days when my six year old nephew cried that someone brought him a Weenie Gift. Fortunately, it was not I. In fact, I may have even encouraged the Weenie Gift classification because it made my cool gift even cooler!
Additionally, I get anxious when people steal gifts from people who really like their gift. I would never steal a gift unless I were confident that the original owner of the gift wanted another chance to pick out something that they they may really love... like say, a nutcracker!
This year, I hit pay dirt.
I brought a griddle along with pancake mix, chocolate chips and a spatula. This was the second gift to be stolen three times and it created a little bit of buzz in the crowd. And for my gift, I was able to steal a hand made nativity table decoration that lights up. The person that originally selected it had her eyes on a few of the other items and was happy to have the opportunity to make another selection.
So now I am just sitting here staring at my new crafty nativity scene and pondering a couple of things. Do they really do these types of exchanges every Christmas in China? If so, would I be able to handle the stress associated with buying the perfect generic gift and then selecting the right gift for me to take home and own?
I suppose that I could handle that stress... and do you want to know why? Because I would have my trusty nutcracker by my side at all times.
You see, things seem to always work out just fine for me and my nutcracker.
Friday, December 11, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Come on by...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
I am sitting at my desk in the middle of the day typing this week's version of Funny Guy Friday. Although I am a partner at my firm, I still have duties that I just can't shirk... but still, here I sit typing away at 1 p.m. One would think that with more than a hundred open files that I would surely have something to do. But mine is the only computer that is turned on and my phone is the only one that will ring.
You see today is the annual Christmas Party where we invite our friends, clients, judges, court house personnel, Sheriffs, other attorney's and their staffs, and I think, based on the turnout every year, they invite their friends, their clients, their judges and their court house personnel. I expect between six and seven hundred people are going to come walking through our doors starting at 4 p.m.
We shut everything down and make each room a special holiday room. We have a full bar in the reception area, a wine room, a moonshine room, and a martini room. Our main conference room holds a buffet that supplements the wings, meatballs and ham sandwiches that we spread throughout the rest of the building.
My office becomes a photo booth and my partner's office becomes an oyster raw bar. We have added and subtracted to the point that the party kind of runs itself... sort of.
I have only been here for fifteen years, but this is the nineteenth annual party... and it gets bigger every year. Now you would think that as the partner of the firm, I would know most of the people that attend but that would be incorrect. I have gotten to know more and more people as a result of the party but there have been many occasions where people have been surprised to find out that I am who I am.
For instance, I was getting some fresh air one year and I was talking with a young man who took a call from a friend. Hey man, I am at this great party in Prince Frederick... you should come.
It doesn't matter if you were invited or not... there are so many people here that they can't possibly know who they invited.
I inquired... Was that a friend of yours?
Yeah, I think he is going to come with his girlfriend.
Do you think that the people that put this on may have a problem with that?
How would they know?... there are so many people here!
Good point, they really should do a better job of monitoring who comes to this thing.
Or the year a local politician approached me and asked me where I work.
Right here at Davis Upton and Palumbo.
No, that's not right.
Ma'am, I am not sure of a lot of things in this world but one thing I am sure of is where I work.
So, what do you do?
I am the Palumbo of Davis Upton and Palumbo.
Are you sure?
I will walk you outside and show you my name on the sign.
Do you do something else?
No. Just an attorney.
She continued to question me so it got the point that I began to doubt that I was who I said I was. When I got a free moment, I went out to check the sign... just to make sure.
Just so you know, I am!
This past year, I watched as my sister-in-law waited in the martini bar line. She made no headway in a ten-minute period. After watching, I walked over and asked what she wanted so I could get to the front of the line and help her out... assuming that this would be okay,.. since last we checked, my name was still on the sign.
Hey buddy, what do you think you're doing?
Getting a couple of drinks for my sister-in-law.
Well get in line like the rest of us.
Oh, I am sorry... I thought that I could jump ahead since I help pay for this thing. But, I will make a deal with you... you cut me a check for half of the costs of this party and I will gladly go wait at the end of the line.
Not surprisingly, he did not take me up on that offer.
So now I've got to go take my shower and get ready for the onslaught. If you happen to be near Prince Frederick tonight between 4 p.m and 9 p.m. feel free to stop on by. I am completely sincere when I say that you are welcome and you are welcome to bring a friend. The people that run this thing have no idea who is invited and who is not.
We are located right on Main Street... my name is on the sign out front.
At least, I think my name is on the sign.
It was last time I checked.
I'd better go... just to make sure.
I am sitting at my desk in the middle of the day typing this week's version of Funny Guy Friday. Although I am a partner at my firm, I still have duties that I just can't shirk... but still, here I sit typing away at 1 p.m. One would think that with more than a hundred open files that I would surely have something to do. But mine is the only computer that is turned on and my phone is the only one that will ring.
You see today is the annual Christmas Party where we invite our friends, clients, judges, court house personnel, Sheriffs, other attorney's and their staffs, and I think, based on the turnout every year, they invite their friends, their clients, their judges and their court house personnel. I expect between six and seven hundred people are going to come walking through our doors starting at 4 p.m.
We shut everything down and make each room a special holiday room. We have a full bar in the reception area, a wine room, a moonshine room, and a martini room. Our main conference room holds a buffet that supplements the wings, meatballs and ham sandwiches that we spread throughout the rest of the building.
My office becomes a photo booth and my partner's office becomes an oyster raw bar. We have added and subtracted to the point that the party kind of runs itself... sort of.
I have only been here for fifteen years, but this is the nineteenth annual party... and it gets bigger every year. Now you would think that as the partner of the firm, I would know most of the people that attend but that would be incorrect. I have gotten to know more and more people as a result of the party but there have been many occasions where people have been surprised to find out that I am who I am.
For instance, I was getting some fresh air one year and I was talking with a young man who took a call from a friend. Hey man, I am at this great party in Prince Frederick... you should come.
It doesn't matter if you were invited or not... there are so many people here that they can't possibly know who they invited.
I inquired... Was that a friend of yours?
Yeah, I think he is going to come with his girlfriend.
Do you think that the people that put this on may have a problem with that?
How would they know?... there are so many people here!
Good point, they really should do a better job of monitoring who comes to this thing.
Or the year a local politician approached me and asked me where I work.
Right here at Davis Upton and Palumbo.
No, that's not right.
Ma'am, I am not sure of a lot of things in this world but one thing I am sure of is where I work.
So, what do you do?
I am the Palumbo of Davis Upton and Palumbo.
Are you sure?
I will walk you outside and show you my name on the sign.
Do you do something else?
No. Just an attorney.
She continued to question me so it got the point that I began to doubt that I was who I said I was. When I got a free moment, I went out to check the sign... just to make sure.
Just so you know, I am!
This past year, I watched as my sister-in-law waited in the martini bar line. She made no headway in a ten-minute period. After watching, I walked over and asked what she wanted so I could get to the front of the line and help her out... assuming that this would be okay,.. since last we checked, my name was still on the sign.
Hey buddy, what do you think you're doing?
Getting a couple of drinks for my sister-in-law.
Well get in line like the rest of us.
Oh, I am sorry... I thought that I could jump ahead since I help pay for this thing. But, I will make a deal with you... you cut me a check for half of the costs of this party and I will gladly go wait at the end of the line.
Not surprisingly, he did not take me up on that offer.
So now I've got to go take my shower and get ready for the onslaught. If you happen to be near Prince Frederick tonight between 4 p.m and 9 p.m. feel free to stop on by. I am completely sincere when I say that you are welcome and you are welcome to bring a friend. The people that run this thing have no idea who is invited and who is not.
We are located right on Main Street... my name is on the sign out front.
At least, I think my name is on the sign.
It was last time I checked.
I'd better go... just to make sure.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Have I ever told you how good I was?
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
I want to start this week's Funny Guy Friday by reminding everyone that as a youth, I was quite an athlete. Every year, I played three sports and started in all three. Not only did I start, but I played a key role on almost every team that I was ever involved with.
During football season, I played quarterback. I recall one game where I threw for more than three hundred yards and five touchdowns. Pretty impressive numbers... for a nine-year-old. That's right boys and girls, I was slinging that ball all over the field right from the start. Our offense was designed around the fact that I could throw it and three kids could catch it. Did I mention I was nine?
In basketball, I played point guard and helped lead the Benjamin Tasker Tigers to the Junior High School championship! It was during that time that I caught the eye of young cheerleader who could not take her eyes off of me. She watched every move I made, and, although she may deny it now, she fell in love with me right then and there.
Unfortunately for this young cheerleader, the feelings were not mutual. My mind was on basketball and not on girls. But I'll give her credit, she persevered and weaved an elaborate twelve-year scheme that resulted in our marriage.
Okay, that is not exactly true. Cheryl did cheer me on in junior high... only she didn't really remember my playing on the team. When she told me this, I reminded her that I was one of two white guys that actually played. To prove that she was not just cheering but was actually watching the games, she did manage to identify my buddy John Reilly.
But let's get back to my athletic career... After my sophomore year, I gave up both basketball and football and concentrated on baseball. This proved to be a good move as I was named a high school All Met and received a scholarship to the University of Maryland. Yay for me!
So, why am I reminding you of how good I used to be?
Because I used to be good. Now I stink.
Well, I don't stink... but I am not very good.
This week, I received two painful reminders of my decline.
First, on Thanksgiving, during the family Turkey Bowl, whenever the other team needed a first down, they threw the ball to the guy I was covering. He did not catch them all... not because of the coverage but because the passes were just out of his reach. The guy (younger than I) ran past me, he ran around me, he even ran through me a time or two.
This strategy of picking on the weak link is nothing new; you always exploit that guy if you have to. I mean you don't do it on every play, just when you need to do it. I've been doing it for years... it is an art really. You do it, but you don't make it obvious. Unfortunately, with my past experience, I was well aware of their stupid little strategy.
Well, guess what... It didn't work... we won. So there!
Let me take this opportunity to apologize to all of my family members that I have exploited on the gridiron in past Turkey Bowls. It will never happen again... Unless it is completely necessary!
The second reminder that I may just be past my prime came on Wednesday. I play basketball with a bunch of guys on most Wednesday nights, but this week we were one man short so I asked Matthew to join us. This seemed like a good idea but then I started thinking... will Matthew be able to keep up. He's only fifteen so may not be strong enough to compete with men. Perhaps he will crumble under the pressure of playing with his dad's boys.
We chose sides and Matthew and I were on the same team. This was good because I could make sure that no matter how bad he played, I could get the ball to him and try to involve him on offense. I also could help him out defending bigger and stronger players.
We play four on four and play each game to eleven. I am here to tell you that in that first game, I was outstanding. Whether I was driving to the basket or hitting a few jump shots, I did it all.
Matthew wasn't too bad. In fact, he was pretty good. Funny thing about being young and in shape. You get to balls quicker and run by guys a little easier. And you know what? He isn't weak at all. In fact, he is pretty strong, and for a kid that can't shoot, he seemed to be able to score every now and again. Not a bad initial game... we won pretty easily.
But could he keep it up? We won the second game just as easily, but something was happening... my drives to the basket got a little tougher and my jumpers kept coming up just short. Some would say this is a sign of fatigue... they'd be right.
But this fatigue thing wasn't really affecting Matthew. He was still quick to the ball and his drives to the basket seemed to be more frequent... and more effective. He got rebounds and he defended guys really well. I mean, he actually moves his feet and stays in front of guys instead of reaching and grabbing. He played defense like... dare I say it... like I used to.
Things got progressively worse for me.
At one point, Matthew had the ball at the top of the key and I was out on the wing. He was looking to pass the ball to me, but I was in the classic old man stance. You know the one... where you bend over at the waist and grasp the bottom your shorts with both hands. I had had enough and needed a break, so I waved him over to the other side of the court. I would like to say I was pacing myself, but I was gassed and needed a rest!
I must admit, it was a lot of fun playing basketball with Matthew.
When I was growing up, my dad always reminded us that he was not there to be our friend... he was there to be a dad. He would remind us that his role was to keep us on the straight and narrow and tell us no when no was necessary. Friends don't do that. Friends tell you how great you are and oftentimes contribute to your demise. As we got older, our relationship changed a bit and he became more of a friend.
Now, I don't profess to be the same caliber of parent that my dad was, but I do the best I can. Matthew is still too young for me to be his buddy. He still needs a dad to keep him on the straight and narrow. However, playing basketball with Matthew was a blast. And this was kind of the first step of us hanging out together and becoming friends.
It's going to be great... We will sit around and talk. I can tell him about... what a great athlete I used to be!
I want to start this week's Funny Guy Friday by reminding everyone that as a youth, I was quite an athlete. Every year, I played three sports and started in all three. Not only did I start, but I played a key role on almost every team that I was ever involved with.
During football season, I played quarterback. I recall one game where I threw for more than three hundred yards and five touchdowns. Pretty impressive numbers... for a nine-year-old. That's right boys and girls, I was slinging that ball all over the field right from the start. Our offense was designed around the fact that I could throw it and three kids could catch it. Did I mention I was nine?
In basketball, I played point guard and helped lead the Benjamin Tasker Tigers to the Junior High School championship! It was during that time that I caught the eye of young cheerleader who could not take her eyes off of me. She watched every move I made, and, although she may deny it now, she fell in love with me right then and there.
Unfortunately for this young cheerleader, the feelings were not mutual. My mind was on basketball and not on girls. But I'll give her credit, she persevered and weaved an elaborate twelve-year scheme that resulted in our marriage.
Okay, that is not exactly true. Cheryl did cheer me on in junior high... only she didn't really remember my playing on the team. When she told me this, I reminded her that I was one of two white guys that actually played. To prove that she was not just cheering but was actually watching the games, she did manage to identify my buddy John Reilly.
But let's get back to my athletic career... After my sophomore year, I gave up both basketball and football and concentrated on baseball. This proved to be a good move as I was named a high school All Met and received a scholarship to the University of Maryland. Yay for me!
So, why am I reminding you of how good I used to be?
Because I used to be good. Now I stink.
Well, I don't stink... but I am not very good.
This week, I received two painful reminders of my decline.
First, on Thanksgiving, during the family Turkey Bowl, whenever the other team needed a first down, they threw the ball to the guy I was covering. He did not catch them all... not because of the coverage but because the passes were just out of his reach. The guy (younger than I) ran past me, he ran around me, he even ran through me a time or two.
This strategy of picking on the weak link is nothing new; you always exploit that guy if you have to. I mean you don't do it on every play, just when you need to do it. I've been doing it for years... it is an art really. You do it, but you don't make it obvious. Unfortunately, with my past experience, I was well aware of their stupid little strategy.
Well, guess what... It didn't work... we won. So there!
Let me take this opportunity to apologize to all of my family members that I have exploited on the gridiron in past Turkey Bowls. It will never happen again... Unless it is completely necessary!
The second reminder that I may just be past my prime came on Wednesday. I play basketball with a bunch of guys on most Wednesday nights, but this week we were one man short so I asked Matthew to join us. This seemed like a good idea but then I started thinking... will Matthew be able to keep up. He's only fifteen so may not be strong enough to compete with men. Perhaps he will crumble under the pressure of playing with his dad's boys.
We chose sides and Matthew and I were on the same team. This was good because I could make sure that no matter how bad he played, I could get the ball to him and try to involve him on offense. I also could help him out defending bigger and stronger players.
We play four on four and play each game to eleven. I am here to tell you that in that first game, I was outstanding. Whether I was driving to the basket or hitting a few jump shots, I did it all.
Matthew wasn't too bad. In fact, he was pretty good. Funny thing about being young and in shape. You get to balls quicker and run by guys a little easier. And you know what? He isn't weak at all. In fact, he is pretty strong, and for a kid that can't shoot, he seemed to be able to score every now and again. Not a bad initial game... we won pretty easily.
But could he keep it up? We won the second game just as easily, but something was happening... my drives to the basket got a little tougher and my jumpers kept coming up just short. Some would say this is a sign of fatigue... they'd be right.
But this fatigue thing wasn't really affecting Matthew. He was still quick to the ball and his drives to the basket seemed to be more frequent... and more effective. He got rebounds and he defended guys really well. I mean, he actually moves his feet and stays in front of guys instead of reaching and grabbing. He played defense like... dare I say it... like I used to.
Things got progressively worse for me.
At one point, Matthew had the ball at the top of the key and I was out on the wing. He was looking to pass the ball to me, but I was in the classic old man stance. You know the one... where you bend over at the waist and grasp the bottom your shorts with both hands. I had had enough and needed a break, so I waved him over to the other side of the court. I would like to say I was pacing myself, but I was gassed and needed a rest!
I must admit, it was a lot of fun playing basketball with Matthew.
When I was growing up, my dad always reminded us that he was not there to be our friend... he was there to be a dad. He would remind us that his role was to keep us on the straight and narrow and tell us no when no was necessary. Friends don't do that. Friends tell you how great you are and oftentimes contribute to your demise. As we got older, our relationship changed a bit and he became more of a friend.
Now, I don't profess to be the same caliber of parent that my dad was, but I do the best I can. Matthew is still too young for me to be his buddy. He still needs a dad to keep him on the straight and narrow. However, playing basketball with Matthew was a blast. And this was kind of the first step of us hanging out together and becoming friends.
It's going to be great... We will sit around and talk. I can tell him about... what a great athlete I used to be!
Friday, November 27, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... What a great Thanksgiving...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
What a great Thanksgiving.
Every year we do the same basic things. First, my family gets together for breakfast and football. The complexity and timing of the breakfast depends on who is coming to dinner that night. We host every year, but we alternate each year between my family and Cheryl's family. So in a year when we host Cheryl's family, we have an extended breakfast at someone's home, but if we are hosting my family, we might just have donuts and coffee at the field.
Since we were hosting Cheryl's family this year, we had a breakfast feast hosted by my nephew and his newlywed bride. My nephew was married about a year ago, and they have a beautiful home near the field where we play. They don't have a lot of furniture in their home, but what they have is very nice.
One thing that they have none of... is children. Not a one... which, I am sure, made for some anxious moments when ten kids under the age of twelve descended upon their home... Like locusts!
At first, the little horde was well behaved and a bit cautious. But they seemed to grow stronger as their number increased. Number as in the number of children that were present and number as in number of nice sugary donuts they inhaled.
They started throwing balls, jumping on the nice furniture, and wrestling one another. They also scouted out a track of sorts through the dining room, down the hallway, through the kitchen and back through the dining room. Pretty standard stuff for a pack this size.
At one point, I walked up upon a conversation involving Cheryl and my nephews new bride... complete with kids running under foot.
Someone just commented that this is kind of a form of birth control, our hostess joked.
Well, I was just going to say that God doesn't bless you with this many kids all at one time... he gives you one, and maybe, if you are lucky, two at a time. And they start out being very quiet... and they don't move around very much. My wife, always the voice of calm and reason in a torrent of chaos!
Besides... someone else piped in... you have a basement, once you start having a bunch of kids over, you can throw them down in the basement.
That strategy does not always go so well... I told my niece... once we had a party and your husband and all of his lousy cousins were down in our basement and about a month later, when we went to move the couch, we found that one of them had spilled a full can of coke and it had eaten through our new carpet. I, of course, am always the voice of doom and disaster in a torrent of chaos!
Then the big game... THE YEARLY TURKEY BOWL!!!
This is for bragging rights for one full year. We have the Side of Good (led by yours truly) and the Dark Side (led by my nephew Jonathan). I am not going to talk too much about the game other than to report that the Side of Good triumphed over the Side of Evil. I don't want to talk too much about it because the wound is fresh for my nephew and his cohorts and there was a bit of controversy.
It was on a crucial third down play when a ball was snapped over the head of our QB by a newcomer to the game. He did not realize that you could just turn and toss the ball to the QB as opposed to snapping it between his legs. Not sure how he did not know this crucial bit of information because he was told and he had seen everyone else do it for three quarters of the game... but he did not know.
Fortunately for us, there was an inadvertent whistle... that only I heard. Being the oldest living member of the family that still plays (very effectively I might add) they only give me a little blow back when I said we were going to replay the down. Occasionally, age does have its privileges.
Anyway, we converted that crucial first down and later, on a separate drive, scored the go ahead TD on the last play of the game.
Boy, was I sore all day. In fact, I mentioned this to Matthew on the drive home and he pointed out that half the conversation at the Turkey Bowl is about what good athletes we used to be and the other half is about how sore we are going to be!
Then came the big Thanksgiving feast... or the post game spread. In addition to the turkey, the ham and the seven different potato dishes that we prepared, Cheryl's family came with tons of food. Her brother Ray makes the best gravy and carves a turkey like nobody's business, and her sister Annie spent two days in our kitchen helping to prepare the meal. And as far as I know, she did not steal anything. The same cannot be said for her sister Karen.
We were all having a great time when I discovered that Karen stole a pin that belongs to my mother.
After enjoying our desserts, I was admiring her pin when she told me it was Cheryl's pin. I assumed that Cheryl let her wear it. It turns out that it was my mom's pin that she found... probably going through my mom's dresser drawers.
If I did not love her kids so much, I would have thrown her out on her keister.
Okay okay... maybe she was joking around and had picked it up off the side table and was trying it out. But still... it was my mom's.
Speaking of my mom, she went to my brother Joe's house and was not here for dinner. However, I have been thinking a lot about how Cheryl and her family treat my mother. Simply put, they treat her like one of their own. They are sure to include her in every event. My in-laws take the time to sit and chat with her, oftentimes in a separate room where there is less noise. They jump up to greet her and give her hugs when she walks into the room. Heck, Karen's kids... you remember Karen the kleptomaniac... her kids refer to her as Grandma Palumbo.
Before saying our prayer, I took a moment to thank Cheryl's family for all that they do for her. In the course of showing my gratitude, I may have shed a tear. Afterwards, perceiving my heartfelt show of gratitude, they all came over to say a kind word or to give me a hug. I did not have the heart to tell them that I wasn't crying about what I had said, I was crying because I was so sore from the Turkey Bowl!!
Anyway, we had a great Thanksgiving.
When I think about the things that I am thankful for, the one thing that always leaps out is my family. My brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews and even my in-laws. God really has blessed us with a beautiful family.
And in our home, it is such a treat to have Gracie home from college and to watch her laughing and fooling around with Matthew and Noah... so long as she does not interrupt Noah while he is baking/cooking. He made some killer brussels sprouts wrapped in bacon and smothered in a bourbon glaze, as well as a pumpkin pie and a homemade pumpkin cheesecake with a ginger snap crust.
And of course, I am thankful for my wonderful wife, who takes such great care of all of us and happily puts up with all of my shenanigans.
I hope that you all had a great Thanksgiving with your families.
We thank God and are all truly blessed!
What a great Thanksgiving.
Every year we do the same basic things. First, my family gets together for breakfast and football. The complexity and timing of the breakfast depends on who is coming to dinner that night. We host every year, but we alternate each year between my family and Cheryl's family. So in a year when we host Cheryl's family, we have an extended breakfast at someone's home, but if we are hosting my family, we might just have donuts and coffee at the field.
Since we were hosting Cheryl's family this year, we had a breakfast feast hosted by my nephew and his newlywed bride. My nephew was married about a year ago, and they have a beautiful home near the field where we play. They don't have a lot of furniture in their home, but what they have is very nice.
One thing that they have none of... is children. Not a one... which, I am sure, made for some anxious moments when ten kids under the age of twelve descended upon their home... Like locusts!
At first, the little horde was well behaved and a bit cautious. But they seemed to grow stronger as their number increased. Number as in the number of children that were present and number as in number of nice sugary donuts they inhaled.
They started throwing balls, jumping on the nice furniture, and wrestling one another. They also scouted out a track of sorts through the dining room, down the hallway, through the kitchen and back through the dining room. Pretty standard stuff for a pack this size.
At one point, I walked up upon a conversation involving Cheryl and my nephews new bride... complete with kids running under foot.
Someone just commented that this is kind of a form of birth control, our hostess joked.
Well, I was just going to say that God doesn't bless you with this many kids all at one time... he gives you one, and maybe, if you are lucky, two at a time. And they start out being very quiet... and they don't move around very much. My wife, always the voice of calm and reason in a torrent of chaos!
Besides... someone else piped in... you have a basement, once you start having a bunch of kids over, you can throw them down in the basement.
That strategy does not always go so well... I told my niece... once we had a party and your husband and all of his lousy cousins were down in our basement and about a month later, when we went to move the couch, we found that one of them had spilled a full can of coke and it had eaten through our new carpet. I, of course, am always the voice of doom and disaster in a torrent of chaos!
Then the big game... THE YEARLY TURKEY BOWL!!!
This is for bragging rights for one full year. We have the Side of Good (led by yours truly) and the Dark Side (led by my nephew Jonathan). I am not going to talk too much about the game other than to report that the Side of Good triumphed over the Side of Evil. I don't want to talk too much about it because the wound is fresh for my nephew and his cohorts and there was a bit of controversy.
It was on a crucial third down play when a ball was snapped over the head of our QB by a newcomer to the game. He did not realize that you could just turn and toss the ball to the QB as opposed to snapping it between his legs. Not sure how he did not know this crucial bit of information because he was told and he had seen everyone else do it for three quarters of the game... but he did not know.
Fortunately for us, there was an inadvertent whistle... that only I heard. Being the oldest living member of the family that still plays (very effectively I might add) they only give me a little blow back when I said we were going to replay the down. Occasionally, age does have its privileges.
Anyway, we converted that crucial first down and later, on a separate drive, scored the go ahead TD on the last play of the game.
Boy, was I sore all day. In fact, I mentioned this to Matthew on the drive home and he pointed out that half the conversation at the Turkey Bowl is about what good athletes we used to be and the other half is about how sore we are going to be!
Then came the big Thanksgiving feast... or the post game spread. In addition to the turkey, the ham and the seven different potato dishes that we prepared, Cheryl's family came with tons of food. Her brother Ray makes the best gravy and carves a turkey like nobody's business, and her sister Annie spent two days in our kitchen helping to prepare the meal. And as far as I know, she did not steal anything. The same cannot be said for her sister Karen.
We were all having a great time when I discovered that Karen stole a pin that belongs to my mother.
After enjoying our desserts, I was admiring her pin when she told me it was Cheryl's pin. I assumed that Cheryl let her wear it. It turns out that it was my mom's pin that she found... probably going through my mom's dresser drawers.
If I did not love her kids so much, I would have thrown her out on her keister.
Okay okay... maybe she was joking around and had picked it up off the side table and was trying it out. But still... it was my mom's.
Speaking of my mom, she went to my brother Joe's house and was not here for dinner. However, I have been thinking a lot about how Cheryl and her family treat my mother. Simply put, they treat her like one of their own. They are sure to include her in every event. My in-laws take the time to sit and chat with her, oftentimes in a separate room where there is less noise. They jump up to greet her and give her hugs when she walks into the room. Heck, Karen's kids... you remember Karen the kleptomaniac... her kids refer to her as Grandma Palumbo.
Before saying our prayer, I took a moment to thank Cheryl's family for all that they do for her. In the course of showing my gratitude, I may have shed a tear. Afterwards, perceiving my heartfelt show of gratitude, they all came over to say a kind word or to give me a hug. I did not have the heart to tell them that I wasn't crying about what I had said, I was crying because I was so sore from the Turkey Bowl!!
Anyway, we had a great Thanksgiving.
When I think about the things that I am thankful for, the one thing that always leaps out is my family. My brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews and even my in-laws. God really has blessed us with a beautiful family.
And in our home, it is such a treat to have Gracie home from college and to watch her laughing and fooling around with Matthew and Noah... so long as she does not interrupt Noah while he is baking/cooking. He made some killer brussels sprouts wrapped in bacon and smothered in a bourbon glaze, as well as a pumpkin pie and a homemade pumpkin cheesecake with a ginger snap crust.
And of course, I am thankful for my wonderful wife, who takes such great care of all of us and happily puts up with all of my shenanigans.
I hope that you all had a great Thanksgiving with your families.
We thank God and are all truly blessed!
Friday, November 20, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The return of the toothache...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
What a week.
I nearly died.
Not really... but I wanted to be dead.
Not really but I did have a terrible toothache!
It all started on Monday. Actually, it started three months ago on the second day of our Hawaiian vacation. We had gone out to one of the beautiful beaches on the Island and as the day wore on, I developed the worst toothache ever. I also got suntan lotion in my eyes. This made for a great day... and by great I mean the worst day of my life. Couldn't talk and couldn't see.
The worst day, that is, until this past Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but we'll get to that in a minute.
On the second night of our vacation, I contacted my dentist back home who was able to diagnose the problem: I needed a root canal. The long-distance diagnosis was impressive but not as impressive as the antibiotics he was able to call in from the East Coast. He saved the day, the week, and the vacation!
The tooth never really recovered but the pain was not excruciating. As a result, I just let it go... until Monday morning when I decided that I should get this taken care of before it flares up.
As I sat in the chair waiting for the results of my X-ray, I was pretty sure that the earlier diagnosis was correct and I was going to require a root canal. I pondered if I would wait until after the holidays or schedule it for sooner. When the dentist returned to the room, he confirmed my suspicions and started suiting up.
Whoa, wait a second there doc... are you doing that today?
Sure, you need a root canal. Let's get this going.
I have never had a root canal before, but I had heard that they can be painful. I have had a ton of dental work, in fact, I once had my jaw broken and my bite surgically repaired so I am no stranger to major dental procedures. But I was knocked out then, and this root canal was going to involve a lot of drilling and that suction thing. I hate that suction thing.
Fortunately, God invented novocain. I got so much novocain that the whole right side of my head went numb. You could have hit me with a hammer, and I would not have felt it. Needless to say, I never felt a thing. In fact, I fell asleep during the procedure. Doc had to wake me up so he could get his drill in my mouth. Talk about tough... I was a stud! Root canals aren't so bad after all.
For some silly reason, I was prescribed a pain killer... Just in case.
In case of what?... In case I fall out of the chair when I wake up? Seriously, doc, save it for one of your sissy patients.
Well, as it turns out, the just in case that the doctor spoke of is just in case the novocain wears off... which it did. Oh boy, did it wear off. I went to bed at midnight and was woken up by the pain at 12:03. I was taking tylenol and advil every two hours.
The next day, I was exhausted but was able to muddle through the day. Tuesday night was no different than the previous night. I take that back... it was worse. The tylonol and the advil were no longer working and the pain was not just in my jaw, but my ear and my lips were numb... and as God is my witness, the right side of my throat was sore... just the right side.
Again, I got about two hours of sleep. One positive thing about staying awake all night: I was able to catch up on the day's current events (very depressing) and to advance 10 levels in candy crush (very exciting). But even that great candy crush feat could not brighten my spirits. It was agony!
On Wednesday, I had to go to a legal ethics seminar in Baltimore. Yes, we have those, and our malpractice carriers require that we attend one every three years! I have often wondered if a toothache would be better than one of these seminars. The toothache is worse... I had to endur both! Talk about a living hell!
However, it was nice to know that throughout these few days, my family had my back. Cheryl texted Gracie about my plight, and Grace mentioned that if I wanted to forget about my toothache, all I had to do was splash some suntan lotion in my eye!
Anyway, when I got home from the seminar, I went to lie down but could not sleep because of the pain. Cheryl went against my wishes and called the dentist. Calling the dentist was a sign of weakness. Fortunately, Cheryl is weak.
We got in that same afternoon, and it was determined that my infection had flared up. Once again, he shot me full of novocain. Did I mention that I love novocain? It was novocain that provided me with my first two hours of pain-free time in three days. Anyway, he cleaned out where he had done the root canal and thought that would take care of the problem.
I felt great. All numbed up and ready to have a pain-free meal. But before we ate, we had to pick up Matthew at school and then grab some food. I could not wait to enjoy my meal. Funny thing happened as we were getting Matthew and picking up our food... the novocain began to wear off. I could feel it wearing off as we got closer and closer to home. I did that thing where you puff out your cheeks and hold in the air. Unfortunately, I could hold in the air, so I knew my pain-free time was coming to an end.
As we turned the corner to head home, my lips stopped tingling, I could feel my tongue and the pain returned with an added twist, an earache. I ate dinner on the good side of my mouth, and then I broke down.
Remember that pain killer the doctor prescribed? I never had it filled.
I hate taking those things. I always fear the worst... Some negative reaction or becoming dependent on them to stop the pain. I have seen a lot of negative things in people's lives start with a prescription for pain medication. After three days of constant pain, none of that mattered. I did not care if it cost me my wife, my kids, my house, my job. I just had to stop the pain.
I took one at about 8:00 p.m. And another at midnight and went to bed. I had a few visitors that night. Matthew came and checked on me. Noah played computer games with me... He won but in fairness to me, I was playing hurt. And Cheryl visited with ice and "healing oils."
What are you spreading all over my face and neck?
Healing oils.
What are they for?
Healing. I suppose that was a stupid question given the name of the oils.
Great, now I stink and have a broken face. What's that stuff you are spreading on my forehead.
Holy oil. It's blessed and exorcised.
Cheryl was breaking out all the stops. You see, I was getting kind of irritated at my situation. Let's just say that I was not my usual, jovial self. I wanted to punch someone... anyone, it didn't matter who. And the fact that I saw no end in sight was depressing. Add in that the oils were going to make my face break out... and this night was just perfect.
Now, I did not hold out much hope for the healing oils or the ice. In fact, the ice did not help at all until I started eating it. Eating is not really what I did; I put a piece between my cheek and gums and let it melt away. That seemed to help.
Despite my doubts, things began to improve. I woke up in the middle of the night and the only pain I had was in my jaw, ironically, where I had received the novacaine shots. This was a marked improvement. I went back to the Tylenol, discarding the prescription medication. I was able to fall back asleep and woke up four hours later relatively pain-free.
Here it is Friday and with the possible exception of a lingering headache and occasional tooth twinge, I am 100%.
I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to my lovely wife.
I may have been a tad grumpy... and I may have doubted your healing oils and I may have wanted to punch you and your eternal optimism. But through it all, you stood by me... Not really, you went downstairs and avoided me most of the time and you giggled at Gracie's text, but I understand... and you nursed me back to health.
However, if my face breaks out, I am holding you personally responsible.
On a more serious note, over the past couple of days, it has become clearer to me how bad things can start with a prescription for pain pills. When I was just taking the Tylenol and Advil, I found myself watching the clock and waiting for it to hit two hours so I could take some more. I can see the same thing happening to people with more serious pain medications. I know the prescription given to me was a low dose a of a relatively minor pain-killer but I was determined to avoid getting it filled. I suppose my reaction is a bit of an over-reaction, but I see the back end of addiction in my office on a daily basis. The stories often have a familiar beginning.
So here is my lesson for the day. If you or your children are prescribed pain medications, be careful. I would suggest that you never leave it for yourself... and especially not your children to determine when you... or they medicate. "Take as needed" is a dangerous temptress. Follow the doctor's orders and be aware that bad things can happen if you are not careful.
Oh, and always remember that a few prayers, some healing oils and holy oil never hurt... Unless, of course, your face breaks out!
What a week.
I nearly died.
Not really... but I wanted to be dead.
Not really but I did have a terrible toothache!
It all started on Monday. Actually, it started three months ago on the second day of our Hawaiian vacation. We had gone out to one of the beautiful beaches on the Island and as the day wore on, I developed the worst toothache ever. I also got suntan lotion in my eyes. This made for a great day... and by great I mean the worst day of my life. Couldn't talk and couldn't see.
The worst day, that is, until this past Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, but we'll get to that in a minute.
On the second night of our vacation, I contacted my dentist back home who was able to diagnose the problem: I needed a root canal. The long-distance diagnosis was impressive but not as impressive as the antibiotics he was able to call in from the East Coast. He saved the day, the week, and the vacation!
The tooth never really recovered but the pain was not excruciating. As a result, I just let it go... until Monday morning when I decided that I should get this taken care of before it flares up.
As I sat in the chair waiting for the results of my X-ray, I was pretty sure that the earlier diagnosis was correct and I was going to require a root canal. I pondered if I would wait until after the holidays or schedule it for sooner. When the dentist returned to the room, he confirmed my suspicions and started suiting up.
Whoa, wait a second there doc... are you doing that today?
Sure, you need a root canal. Let's get this going.
I have never had a root canal before, but I had heard that they can be painful. I have had a ton of dental work, in fact, I once had my jaw broken and my bite surgically repaired so I am no stranger to major dental procedures. But I was knocked out then, and this root canal was going to involve a lot of drilling and that suction thing. I hate that suction thing.
Fortunately, God invented novocain. I got so much novocain that the whole right side of my head went numb. You could have hit me with a hammer, and I would not have felt it. Needless to say, I never felt a thing. In fact, I fell asleep during the procedure. Doc had to wake me up so he could get his drill in my mouth. Talk about tough... I was a stud! Root canals aren't so bad after all.
For some silly reason, I was prescribed a pain killer... Just in case.
In case of what?... In case I fall out of the chair when I wake up? Seriously, doc, save it for one of your sissy patients.
Well, as it turns out, the just in case that the doctor spoke of is just in case the novocain wears off... which it did. Oh boy, did it wear off. I went to bed at midnight and was woken up by the pain at 12:03. I was taking tylenol and advil every two hours.
The next day, I was exhausted but was able to muddle through the day. Tuesday night was no different than the previous night. I take that back... it was worse. The tylonol and the advil were no longer working and the pain was not just in my jaw, but my ear and my lips were numb... and as God is my witness, the right side of my throat was sore... just the right side.
Again, I got about two hours of sleep. One positive thing about staying awake all night: I was able to catch up on the day's current events (very depressing) and to advance 10 levels in candy crush (very exciting). But even that great candy crush feat could not brighten my spirits. It was agony!
On Wednesday, I had to go to a legal ethics seminar in Baltimore. Yes, we have those, and our malpractice carriers require that we attend one every three years! I have often wondered if a toothache would be better than one of these seminars. The toothache is worse... I had to endur both! Talk about a living hell!
However, it was nice to know that throughout these few days, my family had my back. Cheryl texted Gracie about my plight, and Grace mentioned that if I wanted to forget about my toothache, all I had to do was splash some suntan lotion in my eye!
Anyway, when I got home from the seminar, I went to lie down but could not sleep because of the pain. Cheryl went against my wishes and called the dentist. Calling the dentist was a sign of weakness. Fortunately, Cheryl is weak.
We got in that same afternoon, and it was determined that my infection had flared up. Once again, he shot me full of novocain. Did I mention that I love novocain? It was novocain that provided me with my first two hours of pain-free time in three days. Anyway, he cleaned out where he had done the root canal and thought that would take care of the problem.
I felt great. All numbed up and ready to have a pain-free meal. But before we ate, we had to pick up Matthew at school and then grab some food. I could not wait to enjoy my meal. Funny thing happened as we were getting Matthew and picking up our food... the novocain began to wear off. I could feel it wearing off as we got closer and closer to home. I did that thing where you puff out your cheeks and hold in the air. Unfortunately, I could hold in the air, so I knew my pain-free time was coming to an end.
As we turned the corner to head home, my lips stopped tingling, I could feel my tongue and the pain returned with an added twist, an earache. I ate dinner on the good side of my mouth, and then I broke down.
Remember that pain killer the doctor prescribed? I never had it filled.
I hate taking those things. I always fear the worst... Some negative reaction or becoming dependent on them to stop the pain. I have seen a lot of negative things in people's lives start with a prescription for pain medication. After three days of constant pain, none of that mattered. I did not care if it cost me my wife, my kids, my house, my job. I just had to stop the pain.
I took one at about 8:00 p.m. And another at midnight and went to bed. I had a few visitors that night. Matthew came and checked on me. Noah played computer games with me... He won but in fairness to me, I was playing hurt. And Cheryl visited with ice and "healing oils."
What are you spreading all over my face and neck?
Healing oils.
What are they for?
Healing. I suppose that was a stupid question given the name of the oils.
Great, now I stink and have a broken face. What's that stuff you are spreading on my forehead.
Holy oil. It's blessed and exorcised.
Cheryl was breaking out all the stops. You see, I was getting kind of irritated at my situation. Let's just say that I was not my usual, jovial self. I wanted to punch someone... anyone, it didn't matter who. And the fact that I saw no end in sight was depressing. Add in that the oils were going to make my face break out... and this night was just perfect.
Now, I did not hold out much hope for the healing oils or the ice. In fact, the ice did not help at all until I started eating it. Eating is not really what I did; I put a piece between my cheek and gums and let it melt away. That seemed to help.
Despite my doubts, things began to improve. I woke up in the middle of the night and the only pain I had was in my jaw, ironically, where I had received the novacaine shots. This was a marked improvement. I went back to the Tylenol, discarding the prescription medication. I was able to fall back asleep and woke up four hours later relatively pain-free.
Here it is Friday and with the possible exception of a lingering headache and occasional tooth twinge, I am 100%.
I would like to take this opportunity to apologize to my lovely wife.
I may have been a tad grumpy... and I may have doubted your healing oils and I may have wanted to punch you and your eternal optimism. But through it all, you stood by me... Not really, you went downstairs and avoided me most of the time and you giggled at Gracie's text, but I understand... and you nursed me back to health.
However, if my face breaks out, I am holding you personally responsible.
On a more serious note, over the past couple of days, it has become clearer to me how bad things can start with a prescription for pain pills. When I was just taking the Tylenol and Advil, I found myself watching the clock and waiting for it to hit two hours so I could take some more. I can see the same thing happening to people with more serious pain medications. I know the prescription given to me was a low dose a of a relatively minor pain-killer but I was determined to avoid getting it filled. I suppose my reaction is a bit of an over-reaction, but I see the back end of addiction in my office on a daily basis. The stories often have a familiar beginning.
So here is my lesson for the day. If you or your children are prescribed pain medications, be careful. I would suggest that you never leave it for yourself... and especially not your children to determine when you... or they medicate. "Take as needed" is a dangerous temptress. Follow the doctor's orders and be aware that bad things can happen if you are not careful.
Oh, and always remember that a few prayers, some healing oils and holy oil never hurt... Unless, of course, your face breaks out!
Friday, November 13, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... No Shave November takes a twist...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
As I reached for my pancakes this morning, I looked across the table and noticed that my son Matthew had not shaved for a few days. I know what you are thinking: Mark, you are barely old enough to shave yourself... how is it possible that you have a son that is now shaving!
I know... I know... I look young, but alas, I am not.
Anyway, Matthew quickly pointed out that this is No Shave November!
Really? So, is December: I am Finding a New Place to Live December? Shave please!
I threw in the please... but I really did not mean it... and Matthew knew it.
I kind of want to see if I can grow one.
Well, you need to learn that you don't always get what you want!
As it turns out, Matthew's school will not allow it. Boys have to be clean-shaven.
As I was cleaning up from breakfast, Matthew asked if I had ever considered growing a beard, and Cheryl quickly chimed in: Dad wouldn't grow a beard. Men grow beards... people would wonder what was going on if Dad grew a beard!
Cheryl quickly tried to explain that she meant that I am always a clean-shaven and youthful-looking guy, and people would be surprised by this sudden change in appearance. Unfortunately, the damage was done and I had been completely emasculated in front of the family.
After Matthew stopped laughing and got up off of the floor, I had a revelation. I was hurt by my wife's comments. I felt marginalized by my wife's comments. As I was laughed at and jeered at, I realized that my kitchen... a kitchen that I have occupied for more than fifteen years... was no longer a safe zone.
My thoughts then turned to the comments that I had made to my own son just minutes earlier. I had had the audacity to demand that he take an action that he felt uncomfortable about. I know I said please... but we all knew I didn't mean it.
I was on an emotional roller coaster. Here I was, happy to be sharing time in my kitchen with my family, then I was hurt and embarrassed by that same thoughtless family and no longer safe in a place I had once loved. Then these feelings turned to shame as a result of my unreasonable demands on Matthew. This is when I came up with a plan that the whole family can get behind.
Matthew, I want you to grow a beard!
What? What are you talking about.
I want you to grow a beard.
I can't; my school will not allow it.
I got your back. I believe that their demands are unreasonable and oppressive. How do you feel about it.
It gets kind of itchy.
Not the beard, you idiot... I am talking about the beard policy! I'm sorry... did I just call you an idiot. I did not mean that... come over here and give me a hug.
I'm good!
You are good, Matthew... and don't let anyone tell you that you are not good... beard or no beard. You are good, and strong, and you are a winner. Even if you lose, you are a winner! If you don't think you are a winner, just go look at all your participation trophies!
What is up with you?
I have seen the light... your feelings need to be addressed. When you get to school on Monday... fully bearded, by the way... you give your principal a list of demands. First, you want and expect the school to allow you and every other student to express yourself in any way you like. Be inclusive of all thoughts and ideas... so long as those thoughts and ideas include growing a beard. Second, you expect the school to provide 24-hour, around the clock protection from kids that might say hurtful things about your beard. Third, that if any student should make a comment that can in any way be interpreted as unkind, I would like for that student to be prosecuted by the mock trial team. Fourth, if you feel that some students are looking at you funny or are just thinking bad thoughts about you or your scraggly beard, you are to be provided a "circle of safety."
Hey, you just called my beard scraggly!
No... did I say scraggly? Heck, that beard should be on Duck Dynasty!
One question... how can I make a circle by myself?
Do I have to think of everything? Recruit other students that may some day want to grow a beard... men only, of course.
Isn't that ironic... here we are trying to make things more inclusive for bearded students and then we restrict the circle to men only.
Good point! It is ironic... I don't think anybody will notice! Make sure you keep the media outside of your circle, you know, just to make sure nobody notices... and to be safe.
Anything else?
Ask for free tuition. What the hell, we might as well throw that in as well. Oh... demand that the principal resign. Oooooh, and if he doesn't, start to cry.
How about, instead of crying, I tell them that I am going to hold my breath until I turn blue if my demands are not met?
Nice touch. Now you see how this works.
Is that all?
Well, you could ask your coach if he would like to grow a beard and if so, see if he will support your protest.
Alas, the fun was coming to a close...
Do you think this will work, Dad?
Are you kidding!?! What educational institution... that expects to survive... would ever put up with this kind of nonsense.
Now, parts of this story are true.
Fact: I did tell Matthew to shave... and I did say please when I didn't really mean it.
Fact: Cheryl did make an emasculating comment (though she insists she meant that she thinks of me as a "guy," instead of referring to me by using the word "man."
Fact: Matthew's beard is scraggly... In fact, it is an insult to scraggly beards to call this one scraggly, but I could not think of a word more insulting than scraggly to describe it.
Fact: Sometimes, you need to learn that you don't always get what you want... even if you do turn blue!
And... Fact: No educational institution that expects to survive can put up with this kind of nonsense!
As I reached for my pancakes this morning, I looked across the table and noticed that my son Matthew had not shaved for a few days. I know what you are thinking: Mark, you are barely old enough to shave yourself... how is it possible that you have a son that is now shaving!
I know... I know... I look young, but alas, I am not.
Anyway, Matthew quickly pointed out that this is No Shave November!
Really? So, is December: I am Finding a New Place to Live December? Shave please!
I threw in the please... but I really did not mean it... and Matthew knew it.
I kind of want to see if I can grow one.
Well, you need to learn that you don't always get what you want!
As it turns out, Matthew's school will not allow it. Boys have to be clean-shaven.
As I was cleaning up from breakfast, Matthew asked if I had ever considered growing a beard, and Cheryl quickly chimed in: Dad wouldn't grow a beard. Men grow beards... people would wonder what was going on if Dad grew a beard!
Cheryl quickly tried to explain that she meant that I am always a clean-shaven and youthful-looking guy, and people would be surprised by this sudden change in appearance. Unfortunately, the damage was done and I had been completely emasculated in front of the family.
After Matthew stopped laughing and got up off of the floor, I had a revelation. I was hurt by my wife's comments. I felt marginalized by my wife's comments. As I was laughed at and jeered at, I realized that my kitchen... a kitchen that I have occupied for more than fifteen years... was no longer a safe zone.
My thoughts then turned to the comments that I had made to my own son just minutes earlier. I had had the audacity to demand that he take an action that he felt uncomfortable about. I know I said please... but we all knew I didn't mean it.
I was on an emotional roller coaster. Here I was, happy to be sharing time in my kitchen with my family, then I was hurt and embarrassed by that same thoughtless family and no longer safe in a place I had once loved. Then these feelings turned to shame as a result of my unreasonable demands on Matthew. This is when I came up with a plan that the whole family can get behind.
Matthew, I want you to grow a beard!
What? What are you talking about.
I want you to grow a beard.
I can't; my school will not allow it.
I got your back. I believe that their demands are unreasonable and oppressive. How do you feel about it.
It gets kind of itchy.
Not the beard, you idiot... I am talking about the beard policy! I'm sorry... did I just call you an idiot. I did not mean that... come over here and give me a hug.
I'm good!
You are good, Matthew... and don't let anyone tell you that you are not good... beard or no beard. You are good, and strong, and you are a winner. Even if you lose, you are a winner! If you don't think you are a winner, just go look at all your participation trophies!
What is up with you?
I have seen the light... your feelings need to be addressed. When you get to school on Monday... fully bearded, by the way... you give your principal a list of demands. First, you want and expect the school to allow you and every other student to express yourself in any way you like. Be inclusive of all thoughts and ideas... so long as those thoughts and ideas include growing a beard. Second, you expect the school to provide 24-hour, around the clock protection from kids that might say hurtful things about your beard. Third, that if any student should make a comment that can in any way be interpreted as unkind, I would like for that student to be prosecuted by the mock trial team. Fourth, if you feel that some students are looking at you funny or are just thinking bad thoughts about you or your scraggly beard, you are to be provided a "circle of safety."
Hey, you just called my beard scraggly!
No... did I say scraggly? Heck, that beard should be on Duck Dynasty!
One question... how can I make a circle by myself?
Do I have to think of everything? Recruit other students that may some day want to grow a beard... men only, of course.
Isn't that ironic... here we are trying to make things more inclusive for bearded students and then we restrict the circle to men only.
Good point! It is ironic... I don't think anybody will notice! Make sure you keep the media outside of your circle, you know, just to make sure nobody notices... and to be safe.
Anything else?
Ask for free tuition. What the hell, we might as well throw that in as well. Oh... demand that the principal resign. Oooooh, and if he doesn't, start to cry.
How about, instead of crying, I tell them that I am going to hold my breath until I turn blue if my demands are not met?
Nice touch. Now you see how this works.
Is that all?
Well, you could ask your coach if he would like to grow a beard and if so, see if he will support your protest.
Alas, the fun was coming to a close...
Do you think this will work, Dad?
Are you kidding!?! What educational institution... that expects to survive... would ever put up with this kind of nonsense.
Now, parts of this story are true.
Fact: I did tell Matthew to shave... and I did say please when I didn't really mean it.
Fact: Cheryl did make an emasculating comment (though she insists she meant that she thinks of me as a "guy," instead of referring to me by using the word "man."
Fact: Matthew's beard is scraggly... In fact, it is an insult to scraggly beards to call this one scraggly, but I could not think of a word more insulting than scraggly to describe it.
Fact: Sometimes, you need to learn that you don't always get what you want... even if you do turn blue!
And... Fact: No educational institution that expects to survive can put up with this kind of nonsense!
Friday, November 6, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Ah... Hallmark movies...
I never really get a good night's sleep. At best, I get about five hours of sleep a night. Many nights, I fall asleep watching a game and then wake up to go to bed. At that point, I am up awake. I lie in my bed and read on my ipad or play a few games... Candy Crush and Soda Crush are kind of addictive.
Not to change the subject, but did I hear right that the maker of Candy Crush sold it for over a billion... with a B... dollars. Not to sound like an idiot, but what did the guy that bought it really buy? I mean how do you recoup a billion dollars? I mean there has to be some value in those games, but I don't see it.
There is a reason that people have money and I don't.
Anyway, last night was the worst. It did not start out bad; I actually went to bed early. The Browns were playing the Bengals, but Cheryl and my mom had the television monopolized with a Hallmark movie. If you have never seen a Hallmark movie, you are not missing anything. Every plot is the same.
Let me take a crack at this...
This ruggedly handsome, down-to-earth guy meets snobby girl who is dating a co-worker, corporate fat cat. Both the girl and the Fat Cat think of nothing but their marketing jobs and their money. They put on heirs and take every opportunity to climb the corporate ladder.
Somehow, while Down-to-Earth Guy is delivering coffee to the office, Snobby Girl meets Down-to-Earth Guy for the first time. Thereafter, they can't stop bumping into each other, and they find themselves in various random situations together. Down-to-Earth Guy is cute and charming, but she could never be interested in a coffee delivery boy.
A big job hits a snag and Fat Cat has to leave girl at a restaurant. This is very disappointing because this was their first anniversary of dating. Girl realizes that Fat Cat will always choose his job over his girl. Fortunately, Down-to-Earth Guy just happens to be on his very last coffee delivery of the day to that very same restaurant where Snobby Girl got the boot... and he is there to soften the emotional blow.
As they chat over a nice cup of Jo, Girl realizes that Down-to-Earth Guy is not just a delivery boy, but the owner of the Coffee Shop, and he knows more about coffee than any other human being alive. All he needs in order to become a great success is... WAIT FOR IT... some good marketing. She pitches a few ideas and offers her services. Down-to-Earth Guy politely declines, knowing that she has no time, and he has no money to pay her.
Meanwhile, back on the big job that Fat Cat left Girl stranded for, Fat Cat realizes that he screwed something up... and instead of taking the blame, he blames Girl. The next day, she gets canned... at the very same time, Down-to-Earth Guy is delivering coffee to the office. Again, he is there to soften the blow.
Here is the good news, now she has nothing but time to help out with the coffee business and will be collecting unemployment. She can help get this business up and rolling... and does so for about a month. Things are going great and the coffee business is booming.
Fat Cat, seeing the tides a' turning, is none too happy. He makes himself seem big by making Down-to-Earth Guy seem small. He never misses an opportunity to humiliate and shame our hero.
Man... Fat Cat is a creep. They way he belittles coffee delivery boys... smugly pointing out to girl that he would never be caught dead doing such a menial task.
Well, Fat Cat gets his when the big boss finds out that it was Fat Cat's screw-up that messed up the big project and the only person that can fix it is our girl. She, of course, is a mental heap of jello, what with just finding out that Fat Cat threw her under the bus, enjoying her time with Down-to-Earth Guy and falling in love with him. She enjoys her time at the coffee shop but now she has been given the opportunity to get a promotion and be the corporate giant that she always envisioned for her life... complete with 8o hour work weeks and no time for Down-to-Earth Guy.
She reluctantly leaves the coffee shop to return to the corporate jungle and everyone is very sad. But on a good note, the big project was a success, Fat Cat got fired and Girl got a promotion. And Down-to-Earth Guy still gets to see her from afar in her office... as he makes his deliveries.
About a week later, Down-to-Earth Guy goes to deliver coffee to the Girl's office but she is not there. He inquires as to her whereabouts and is informed that she has resigned. Resigned! Where did she go. Nobody knows.
Heartbroken, he wanders the streets until finally finding his way back to the shop. Guess who is there... the Girl. She realized that money is not everything and true love only comes around once in a lifetime. If he will have her, she will be his new Marketing Director.
They hug and kiss and all is good in the world!
In the background, we see Fat Cat delivering coffee to the construction crew across the street.
Yes, all is truly good in the world.
Ah... Hallmark movies.
Now back to my sleep story. I fell asleep at about 10 p.m. and when Cheryl came up at about 11, I woke up. I could not fall back asleep... either that, or I fell asleep and was having dreams that I could not fall asleep. Either way... it was a nightmare.
I tossed and turned to no avail.
You know it was bout 4 a.m. before I finally got to sleep. You want to know how I finally was able to do it? I started to think that it would be pretty easy to write a Hallmark movie, and so I started to make up a plot in my head.
It wasn't very good though. It involved a Down-to-Earth Guy, a Snobby Girl and this Fat Cat. I nodded off before I could come up with any ideas.
Not to change the subject, but did I hear right that the maker of Candy Crush sold it for over a billion... with a B... dollars. Not to sound like an idiot, but what did the guy that bought it really buy? I mean how do you recoup a billion dollars? I mean there has to be some value in those games, but I don't see it.
There is a reason that people have money and I don't.
Anyway, last night was the worst. It did not start out bad; I actually went to bed early. The Browns were playing the Bengals, but Cheryl and my mom had the television monopolized with a Hallmark movie. If you have never seen a Hallmark movie, you are not missing anything. Every plot is the same.
Let me take a crack at this...
This ruggedly handsome, down-to-earth guy meets snobby girl who is dating a co-worker, corporate fat cat. Both the girl and the Fat Cat think of nothing but their marketing jobs and their money. They put on heirs and take every opportunity to climb the corporate ladder.
Somehow, while Down-to-Earth Guy is delivering coffee to the office, Snobby Girl meets Down-to-Earth Guy for the first time. Thereafter, they can't stop bumping into each other, and they find themselves in various random situations together. Down-to-Earth Guy is cute and charming, but she could never be interested in a coffee delivery boy.
A big job hits a snag and Fat Cat has to leave girl at a restaurant. This is very disappointing because this was their first anniversary of dating. Girl realizes that Fat Cat will always choose his job over his girl. Fortunately, Down-to-Earth Guy just happens to be on his very last coffee delivery of the day to that very same restaurant where Snobby Girl got the boot... and he is there to soften the emotional blow.
As they chat over a nice cup of Jo, Girl realizes that Down-to-Earth Guy is not just a delivery boy, but the owner of the Coffee Shop, and he knows more about coffee than any other human being alive. All he needs in order to become a great success is... WAIT FOR IT... some good marketing. She pitches a few ideas and offers her services. Down-to-Earth Guy politely declines, knowing that she has no time, and he has no money to pay her.
Meanwhile, back on the big job that Fat Cat left Girl stranded for, Fat Cat realizes that he screwed something up... and instead of taking the blame, he blames Girl. The next day, she gets canned... at the very same time, Down-to-Earth Guy is delivering coffee to the office. Again, he is there to soften the blow.
Here is the good news, now she has nothing but time to help out with the coffee business and will be collecting unemployment. She can help get this business up and rolling... and does so for about a month. Things are going great and the coffee business is booming.
Fat Cat, seeing the tides a' turning, is none too happy. He makes himself seem big by making Down-to-Earth Guy seem small. He never misses an opportunity to humiliate and shame our hero.
Man... Fat Cat is a creep. They way he belittles coffee delivery boys... smugly pointing out to girl that he would never be caught dead doing such a menial task.
Well, Fat Cat gets his when the big boss finds out that it was Fat Cat's screw-up that messed up the big project and the only person that can fix it is our girl. She, of course, is a mental heap of jello, what with just finding out that Fat Cat threw her under the bus, enjoying her time with Down-to-Earth Guy and falling in love with him. She enjoys her time at the coffee shop but now she has been given the opportunity to get a promotion and be the corporate giant that she always envisioned for her life... complete with 8o hour work weeks and no time for Down-to-Earth Guy.
She reluctantly leaves the coffee shop to return to the corporate jungle and everyone is very sad. But on a good note, the big project was a success, Fat Cat got fired and Girl got a promotion. And Down-to-Earth Guy still gets to see her from afar in her office... as he makes his deliveries.
About a week later, Down-to-Earth Guy goes to deliver coffee to the Girl's office but she is not there. He inquires as to her whereabouts and is informed that she has resigned. Resigned! Where did she go. Nobody knows.
Heartbroken, he wanders the streets until finally finding his way back to the shop. Guess who is there... the Girl. She realized that money is not everything and true love only comes around once in a lifetime. If he will have her, she will be his new Marketing Director.
They hug and kiss and all is good in the world!
In the background, we see Fat Cat delivering coffee to the construction crew across the street.
Yes, all is truly good in the world.
Ah... Hallmark movies.
Now back to my sleep story. I fell asleep at about 10 p.m. and when Cheryl came up at about 11, I woke up. I could not fall back asleep... either that, or I fell asleep and was having dreams that I could not fall asleep. Either way... it was a nightmare.
I tossed and turned to no avail.
You know it was bout 4 a.m. before I finally got to sleep. You want to know how I finally was able to do it? I started to think that it would be pretty easy to write a Hallmark movie, and so I started to make up a plot in my head.
It wasn't very good though. It involved a Down-to-Earth Guy, a Snobby Girl and this Fat Cat. I nodded off before I could come up with any ideas.
Friday, October 30, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Wait, it's an election year? You don't say...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
In 1980, I turned eighteen and had my first opportunity to vote in a Presidential election. My choice was an easy one... Ronald Reagan ran against Jimmy Carter. I have to admit, I don't recall the primary process running for months and months. And if I recall it correctly (which I do because I just looked it up on Wickipedia), Reagan and Carter only had only one debate sponsored by the League of Women Voters.
It was at this debate that Reagan gave his now famous line Well, there you go again!... and Carter infamously stated that he had consulted with his then twelve-year-old daughter, Amy, about the biggest issue facing our country and she had responded that it was the control of nuclear arms.
In retrospect, she should have mentioned the economy or the hostages in Iran. Actually, in retrospect, the Democrats should have nominated Amy!
Reagan was the best... there I said it.
Voted for him twice and would have voted for him a third time if I could have. He was unapologetic in his positions. He was articulate. He was funny. He was smart. And unlike Donald Trump, he mainly attacked Democrats, and he did so in a fairly non-offensive funny way. For example... A recession is when your neighbor loses his job, a depression is when you lose your job and a recovery is when Jimmy Carter loses his!
It was an election that pitted optimism against pessimism. The results were kind of predictable.
Anyway, I bring all this up because I am completely fed up with Presidential politics. The first primary is still three months away and we have been hearing from these folks every day for the past year. Twelve months of hearing how this candidate is going to lower taxes, create jobs, save the economy, improve our education, defeat ISIS and give us everything we want at no cost to anybody... except the rich guys.
On a side note... has it occurred to anyone that the rich guys are rich for a reason. That they may figure out ways to avoid paying for everybody else's stuff or that if there were no personal incentive (wealth) associated with their rich guy idea, they might just decide to take a pass on the great idea and wait for someone else to come up with the idea... and then take that guy's money!
I digress.
I am sick of the coverage. I am sick of the commercials. I am sick of the speeches. And most of all. I am sick of the debates.
I have a proposal... combine the Republican debates with the Democratic debates. Put everyone up on the stage and make it a battle royal. I know what you are thinking... this can only work if we have a truly neutral debate moderator. If you don't know what I am talking about, then you haven't been paying attention.
For those of you that haven't been watching... or listening to talk radio... let me try to explain through some of my sort of made up questions...
Senator Rubio... I have looked at your tax plan and for this question, I have made up facts about your plan and I will misquote some conservative tax foundation that commented on your plan. Based on my made up facts and the misquoted comments of the tax foundation... your plan gives nearly twice as much of a gain in after-tax income to the top 1% as to people in the middle income scale. Don't you have it backward?
Turning to Senator Bernie Sanders... according to your plan, you figured that the top 1% will pay for all of our health care, all of our college education as well as all of our children's day care... was the math hard? It had to be hard, didn't it? Wow, are all socialists as smart as you?
Speaking of math, Ben Carson... I have had unnamed sources look at your plan and I have to ask... can you add and subtract... quick what is the square root of 78,996,544? You don't know... then why should we trust you with our economy.
Governor Kasich... say something bad about two other Republicans. To be fair, we will waive any time periods for your answer... GO!
Governor O'Malley... are you still here? Sing us a song.
Donald Trump... Are you a comic book version of a candidate? By the way... this one was not made up in any way.
President Clinton... ooh, did I say President Clinton, I meant Secretary Clinton... my bad. You testified before the Benghazi Committee and there were several revelations during your testimony but one thing still remains unanswered... Boxers or Briefs? And I ask that because you are the only woman on the stage and will be, er uh, could be this country's first female President and this is an important issue for many women. What's that? Carline Fiorina is a woman?
Ms. Fiorina, you were fired by a bunch of men at Hewlitt Packard... why would you let all the women of the United States down by being such a disappointment?
Senator Cruz... no sir, you just be quiet... I'll do the accusing here, thank you!
Finally, I would like to allow for all of the candidates to make a closing argument. Republicans, please address your greatest weakness and let the voters know why that weakness would disqualify you as President of the United States... and Democrats, please don't say anything to hurt Hillary's chances.
Man... I wish I could vote for Ronald Reagan again!
In 1980, I turned eighteen and had my first opportunity to vote in a Presidential election. My choice was an easy one... Ronald Reagan ran against Jimmy Carter. I have to admit, I don't recall the primary process running for months and months. And if I recall it correctly (which I do because I just looked it up on Wickipedia), Reagan and Carter only had only one debate sponsored by the League of Women Voters.
It was at this debate that Reagan gave his now famous line Well, there you go again!... and Carter infamously stated that he had consulted with his then twelve-year-old daughter, Amy, about the biggest issue facing our country and she had responded that it was the control of nuclear arms.
In retrospect, she should have mentioned the economy or the hostages in Iran. Actually, in retrospect, the Democrats should have nominated Amy!
Reagan was the best... there I said it.
Voted for him twice and would have voted for him a third time if I could have. He was unapologetic in his positions. He was articulate. He was funny. He was smart. And unlike Donald Trump, he mainly attacked Democrats, and he did so in a fairly non-offensive funny way. For example... A recession is when your neighbor loses his job, a depression is when you lose your job and a recovery is when Jimmy Carter loses his!
It was an election that pitted optimism against pessimism. The results were kind of predictable.
Anyway, I bring all this up because I am completely fed up with Presidential politics. The first primary is still three months away and we have been hearing from these folks every day for the past year. Twelve months of hearing how this candidate is going to lower taxes, create jobs, save the economy, improve our education, defeat ISIS and give us everything we want at no cost to anybody... except the rich guys.
On a side note... has it occurred to anyone that the rich guys are rich for a reason. That they may figure out ways to avoid paying for everybody else's stuff or that if there were no personal incentive (wealth) associated with their rich guy idea, they might just decide to take a pass on the great idea and wait for someone else to come up with the idea... and then take that guy's money!
I digress.
I am sick of the coverage. I am sick of the commercials. I am sick of the speeches. And most of all. I am sick of the debates.
I have a proposal... combine the Republican debates with the Democratic debates. Put everyone up on the stage and make it a battle royal. I know what you are thinking... this can only work if we have a truly neutral debate moderator. If you don't know what I am talking about, then you haven't been paying attention.
For those of you that haven't been watching... or listening to talk radio... let me try to explain through some of my sort of made up questions...
Senator Rubio... I have looked at your tax plan and for this question, I have made up facts about your plan and I will misquote some conservative tax foundation that commented on your plan. Based on my made up facts and the misquoted comments of the tax foundation... your plan gives nearly twice as much of a gain in after-tax income to the top 1% as to people in the middle income scale. Don't you have it backward?
Turning to Senator Bernie Sanders... according to your plan, you figured that the top 1% will pay for all of our health care, all of our college education as well as all of our children's day care... was the math hard? It had to be hard, didn't it? Wow, are all socialists as smart as you?
Speaking of math, Ben Carson... I have had unnamed sources look at your plan and I have to ask... can you add and subtract... quick what is the square root of 78,996,544? You don't know... then why should we trust you with our economy.
Governor Kasich... say something bad about two other Republicans. To be fair, we will waive any time periods for your answer... GO!
Governor O'Malley... are you still here? Sing us a song.
Donald Trump... Are you a comic book version of a candidate? By the way... this one was not made up in any way.
President Clinton... ooh, did I say President Clinton, I meant Secretary Clinton... my bad. You testified before the Benghazi Committee and there were several revelations during your testimony but one thing still remains unanswered... Boxers or Briefs? And I ask that because you are the only woman on the stage and will be, er uh, could be this country's first female President and this is an important issue for many women. What's that? Carline Fiorina is a woman?
Ms. Fiorina, you were fired by a bunch of men at Hewlitt Packard... why would you let all the women of the United States down by being such a disappointment?
Senator Cruz... no sir, you just be quiet... I'll do the accusing here, thank you!
Finally, I would like to allow for all of the candidates to make a closing argument. Republicans, please address your greatest weakness and let the voters know why that weakness would disqualify you as President of the United States... and Democrats, please don't say anything to hurt Hillary's chances.
Man... I wish I could vote for Ronald Reagan again!
Friday, October 23, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The king has spoken...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
So if you have been a regular reader of FGF, you know that laundry has been at the center of nearly every disagreement that Cheryl and I have had. Sure, it may start with some stupid comment that I make about homeschooling or the kids or plans to spend yet another evening with her family, but it quickly degenerates to my declaring that I don't have any clean underwear and it is a direct reflection on you!
Not sure how that happens but it does... last week was no different when I was forced to GASP!... wear my son's underwear. It was, of course, a direct reflection of my wife's refusal to provide regularly washed undergarments. I will neither confirm nor deny that I may, or may not have, mentioned this in the heat of battle.
Admittedly, kind of a rough comment but it bore results. Although at the time she may or may not have mentioned what I could do with my direct reflections.
The next day, Cheryl lit into the laundry like a windmill in a tornado. She got all of the dirty clothes into the wash and all of the clean clothes out of the laundry room. Then the next day, we had our once every three months housekeeper show up on the scene and our home was fit for a King!
I mention Kings because once I arrived home, I made a proclamation fit for a monarch. This new-found cleanliness was here to stay!
From this day forward, there will be no clothes left on the floors of the bathroom, the bedrooms or the hallway. All dirty clothes shall be placed in hampers and once the hamper is full, the clothes will be transported down to the laundry room. All clean clothes will be transported to your bedrooms and immediately placed in the appropriate drawer.
I was on a roll so I branched out on my declaration to include another of my pet peeves.
And this does not mean that we can stack everything on the stairs for a later time when we eventually make it up the steps. Nothing shall be stored on the steps. Besides this being a cleanliness issue, it is a health issue... I am going to trip and kill myself one day coming down the steps in the middle of the night and you are all going to be sorry.
There had to be consequences for any violations of the newly instituted law, so I continued...
Any clothes found on the floor or any time found on the stairwell, shall be thrown away, never to be heard from again.
So it is stated... So it shall be!!!
I was awesome... I was clear... I was authoritative... Yet, I was kind, The only thing missing was two guys dressed like fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me.
I was truly a benevolent dictator!
Everyone was present during my presentation so there was no getting around the rules. There would be no pleading of ignorance. I knew that my loyal subjects were well aware that a kingdom without rules will give rise to anarchy.
The citizens were happy and content and all was good in the kingdom... For about 12 hours.
I was shocked and dismayed to find underwear on the bathroom floor when I went to take my shower... THE VERY NEXT MORNING!
My investigation revealed that Matthew was the perp but he had already left for school... he was not there to incur my wrath. But someone had to hear about this insolent behavior. Cheryl was the closest.
How can he do this the morning after I told everyone what was going to happen?
What did he do?
He left his underwear on the bathroom floor!
So what.
So what? Did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I remember something you said about clothes.
And the stairs... I said something about the stairs also!
Well, put them in the hamper.
You don't get it... I made the announcement about this and now I need to throw away the underwear.
Don't do that, put them in the hamper.
No... consequences. There have to be consequences!
That is all that needed to be said.
That seems a little harsh.
Harsh... did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I know you said something... but not sure exactly what it was. You know you leave your suits all over the place... do we get to throw those away.
Maybe I do need those two guys dressed as fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me when I announce new rules.
I have not done that in over 12 hours... you remember 12 hours ago... oh that's right, you don't remember what I did 12 hours ago. That was the old me... now they get hung up.
Based on Cheryl's willingness to thumb her nose at all authority, I should not have been surprised to find her purse sitting at the bottom of the steps.
Consequences, there have to be consequences!
I took her purse and put it in the trash can.
Now to be honest, I placed the purse across the trash can, not actually in the trash can. I said I was a benevolent dictator... not a stupid dictator.
In fact, I called Cheryl to warn her of her consequences just in case she was looking for her purse. You know, two can play this game... you leave your clothes out, they are getting thrown away.
Okay, the game is on... who will be the first to crack? I have been through these wars before with Grace when she took my hair brush. You don't have what it takes to go to battle with me.
So it is game on, and I am winning 1-0. I found a woman's undergarment on the bedroom floor just the other day. To be fair, I put it there when I was sorting socks but it was clearly a woman's undergarment.
I am not sure that this will end well for me, but it keeps things tidy on our house. Our only hope to maintain this type of cleanliness is if our competitive natures are stronger than our sloppy, lazy natures.
Either way, I am in it to win it... even if I have to plant a bra or two around the house!
So if you have been a regular reader of FGF, you know that laundry has been at the center of nearly every disagreement that Cheryl and I have had. Sure, it may start with some stupid comment that I make about homeschooling or the kids or plans to spend yet another evening with her family, but it quickly degenerates to my declaring that I don't have any clean underwear and it is a direct reflection on you!
Not sure how that happens but it does... last week was no different when I was forced to GASP!... wear my son's underwear. It was, of course, a direct reflection of my wife's refusal to provide regularly washed undergarments. I will neither confirm nor deny that I may, or may not have, mentioned this in the heat of battle.
Admittedly, kind of a rough comment but it bore results. Although at the time she may or may not have mentioned what I could do with my direct reflections.
The next day, Cheryl lit into the laundry like a windmill in a tornado. She got all of the dirty clothes into the wash and all of the clean clothes out of the laundry room. Then the next day, we had our once every three months housekeeper show up on the scene and our home was fit for a King!
I mention Kings because once I arrived home, I made a proclamation fit for a monarch. This new-found cleanliness was here to stay!
From this day forward, there will be no clothes left on the floors of the bathroom, the bedrooms or the hallway. All dirty clothes shall be placed in hampers and once the hamper is full, the clothes will be transported down to the laundry room. All clean clothes will be transported to your bedrooms and immediately placed in the appropriate drawer.
I was on a roll so I branched out on my declaration to include another of my pet peeves.
And this does not mean that we can stack everything on the stairs for a later time when we eventually make it up the steps. Nothing shall be stored on the steps. Besides this being a cleanliness issue, it is a health issue... I am going to trip and kill myself one day coming down the steps in the middle of the night and you are all going to be sorry.
There had to be consequences for any violations of the newly instituted law, so I continued...
Any clothes found on the floor or any time found on the stairwell, shall be thrown away, never to be heard from again.
So it is stated... So it shall be!!!
I was awesome... I was clear... I was authoritative... Yet, I was kind, The only thing missing was two guys dressed like fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me.
I was truly a benevolent dictator!
Everyone was present during my presentation so there was no getting around the rules. There would be no pleading of ignorance. I knew that my loyal subjects were well aware that a kingdom without rules will give rise to anarchy.
The citizens were happy and content and all was good in the kingdom... For about 12 hours.
I was shocked and dismayed to find underwear on the bathroom floor when I went to take my shower... THE VERY NEXT MORNING!
My investigation revealed that Matthew was the perp but he had already left for school... he was not there to incur my wrath. But someone had to hear about this insolent behavior. Cheryl was the closest.
How can he do this the morning after I told everyone what was going to happen?
What did he do?
He left his underwear on the bathroom floor!
So what.
So what? Did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I remember something you said about clothes.
And the stairs... I said something about the stairs also!
Well, put them in the hamper.
You don't get it... I made the announcement about this and now I need to throw away the underwear.
Don't do that, put them in the hamper.
No... consequences. There have to be consequences!
That is all that needed to be said.
That seems a little harsh.
Harsh... did you not hear my grandiose announcement last night?
I know you said something... but not sure exactly what it was. You know you leave your suits all over the place... do we get to throw those away.
Maybe I do need those two guys dressed as fancy court jesters blowing horns on either side of me when I announce new rules.
I have not done that in over 12 hours... you remember 12 hours ago... oh that's right, you don't remember what I did 12 hours ago. That was the old me... now they get hung up.
Based on Cheryl's willingness to thumb her nose at all authority, I should not have been surprised to find her purse sitting at the bottom of the steps.
Consequences, there have to be consequences!
I took her purse and put it in the trash can.
Now to be honest, I placed the purse across the trash can, not actually in the trash can. I said I was a benevolent dictator... not a stupid dictator.
In fact, I called Cheryl to warn her of her consequences just in case she was looking for her purse. You know, two can play this game... you leave your clothes out, they are getting thrown away.
Okay, the game is on... who will be the first to crack? I have been through these wars before with Grace when she took my hair brush. You don't have what it takes to go to battle with me.
So it is game on, and I am winning 1-0. I found a woman's undergarment on the bedroom floor just the other day. To be fair, I put it there when I was sorting socks but it was clearly a woman's undergarment.
I am not sure that this will end well for me, but it keeps things tidy on our house. Our only hope to maintain this type of cleanliness is if our competitive natures are stronger than our sloppy, lazy natures.
Either way, I am in it to win it... even if I have to plant a bra or two around the house!
Friday, October 16, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Roll Tide...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
About five years ago, my friend, Billy, invited me to join him in Alabama for a University of Alabama football game. Billy's father graduated from Alabama and his family has had season tickets for several years. He goes to three or four games every year and is very generous in sharing any extra tickets.
My first trip was four years ago and I am here to report that it is unlike any other sporting event that I have ever attended. I am a graduate of the University of Maryland and have attended many Terrapin football games. In recent years, while Maryland has had little competition when it comes to the "battle of the uniform," they have struggled on the field. But even when they were playing in... and often times winning big games... the Maryland experience was much different.
Not to be mean to my Alma Mater but a one-word description of Maryland games when compared to Alabama games is J.V.
At least I think J. V. is one word. On second thought maybe it is two words... Junior Varsity.
After my first visit, I thought that if I ever had the opportunity, I would take my two boys. Fortunately, this year, Billy had three extra tickets. In fact, he got his hands on five extra tickets so I asked my nephew if he wanted to take his wife, Jess, who is a big 'Bama fan. Although my nephew elected to stay home, Jess happily accepted the offer and invited her father to join us.
So this year, six of us boarded a plane on Friday morning and set off for a football weekend.
Once we landed, we headed straight for the campus. We hit a few stores to purchase our game day gear. Matthew and I had made the trip before so we have our swag... my sweatshirt has a big "A" on the front. Everyone in Alabama knows this distinctive "A" but just about everyone else in the country thinks that I am a big fan of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
Matthew purchased a new Crimson Tide shirt to go along with his previously purchased sweat shirt along with a baseball cap. Noah went in a different direction. Noah selected a houndstooth hat. Houndstooth is Tuscaloosa's favorite color. Their legendary coach, Paul "Bear" Bryant wore a similar hat while he patrolled the sidelines. Noah correctly pointed out that the hat was actually checkered... please don't tell the folks in Alabama.
If you're not sure if Bear Bryant is a legend, you can go past Bear Bryant High School and get to the campus. Once there, you can make a right on Bear Bryant Way, a left on Bear Bryant Lane, take another right on Bear Bryant Boulevard and then park outside of the Paul Bear Bryant Museum. The woman in the houndstooth skirt will fill you in!
After shopping, we made our way to the Walk of Champions. This is the walkway that the team crosses before every game. Every National Championship team member has their name engraved in the walkway. Great names like Joe Namath, Dwight Stevenson, Lee Roy Jordan and Young Boozer. Actually, I never heard of Young Boozer but his name was in the walkway and I think it is a great name for a college kid!
Then we made our way over to The Walk of Fame at Denny Chimes. Every Alabama captain since 1947 has had their hand and foot prints placed in cement. More great names like Ozzie Newsome, Cornelius Bennett, Derrick Thomas and Drunk Guard.
I have to admit, I made up that last name just to see if you are paying attention.
After visiting Denny Chimes, we searched for our tailgate tent. There are hundreds, if not thousands of tents set up for the next day's game. Wherever there is a blade of grass, you will find a tent. The University provides electricity for each tent so most tents have a flat screen set up for viewing other SEC football games or if you are not one of the 101,000 fans lucky enough to have a ticket to the game, you can watch it on campus.
Once we found our tent, we decided to get ribs at Dreamland. If you think that Dreamland is the perfect name for a nice restaurant that provides a world famous dining experience... you would be wrong. It is a world-famous dining experience but the place is a dump. A dump located right across from a run-down trailer park.
When we sat down, Jess asked about the menus. I pointed to the chalk board and told her... there is your menu... do you want a half slab or a whole slab and do you want a piece of sausage? I will say, they have added sides since I was last here.
Those are the only two dishes sold at Dreamland. They do have appetizers, if you count white bread as an appetizer. The locals rave about the white bread. To me, it tasted just like any other white bread... until you dunked it in the delicious sauce. They could serve sponges as an appetizer as long as they serve them with that sauce.
The food is unbelievable. If you only serve two things, it had better be delicious... and it is.
The dessert menu has only one item... banana pudding. It does not disappoint. I am not exaggerating when I say, from the time that they placed our paper plates in front of us, to the time we paid our bill, about twenty five minutes elapsed.
Dreamland does not disappoint.
Now, at this point we were stuffed and we were tired so we should have headed back to the hotel. But this trip was different... this trip included Jess. Jess is a lot like Cheryl. She always has a smile on her face. She is always upbeat. She always finds something positive about even the worst circumstance. Yep, she can be just as annoying as Cheryl.
At one point, I told Matthew that Jess reminded me of his mother, except she has a lot more energy than your mother.
So after stuffing our faces in preparation for our nap, a nap that I am 100% sure that my lovely wife would have been all in favor of, Jess suggested that we go bowling. We have to do something!
Sleeping is something! Isn't it?
Oh yeah, one difference between Cheryl and Jess that I forgot to mention... Jess is a lot more competitive than Cheryl. Behind that perpetual smile lies the heart of a killer! Our day ended after two hard fought games. Luckily, I was on her team!
Saturday's game started at 6:00 p.m. Which meant that we had to get to the campus by 11:00 a.m. That's right... seven hours before kick off. And get this... we were late! The tailgate parties start early and they run all day long. By the time the game started, we were exhausted. Noah nearly fell asleep in the first half. If I had not sprung for the chips and queso, we would have lost him.
In some ways, the game is anti-climatic. The events leading up to the games are exhausting.
Billy takes great pleasure in setting up the weekend's events and then being a personal tour guide. He enjoys that others have a great time.
Alabama won big over Arkansas. We had a blast. We made it home safe and sound.
Roll Tide!
About five years ago, my friend, Billy, invited me to join him in Alabama for a University of Alabama football game. Billy's father graduated from Alabama and his family has had season tickets for several years. He goes to three or four games every year and is very generous in sharing any extra tickets.
My first trip was four years ago and I am here to report that it is unlike any other sporting event that I have ever attended. I am a graduate of the University of Maryland and have attended many Terrapin football games. In recent years, while Maryland has had little competition when it comes to the "battle of the uniform," they have struggled on the field. But even when they were playing in... and often times winning big games... the Maryland experience was much different.
Not to be mean to my Alma Mater but a one-word description of Maryland games when compared to Alabama games is J.V.
At least I think J. V. is one word. On second thought maybe it is two words... Junior Varsity.
After my first visit, I thought that if I ever had the opportunity, I would take my two boys. Fortunately, this year, Billy had three extra tickets. In fact, he got his hands on five extra tickets so I asked my nephew if he wanted to take his wife, Jess, who is a big 'Bama fan. Although my nephew elected to stay home, Jess happily accepted the offer and invited her father to join us.
So this year, six of us boarded a plane on Friday morning and set off for a football weekend.
Once we landed, we headed straight for the campus. We hit a few stores to purchase our game day gear. Matthew and I had made the trip before so we have our swag... my sweatshirt has a big "A" on the front. Everyone in Alabama knows this distinctive "A" but just about everyone else in the country thinks that I am a big fan of Alvin and the Chipmunks.
Matthew purchased a new Crimson Tide shirt to go along with his previously purchased sweat shirt along with a baseball cap. Noah went in a different direction. Noah selected a houndstooth hat. Houndstooth is Tuscaloosa's favorite color. Their legendary coach, Paul "Bear" Bryant wore a similar hat while he patrolled the sidelines. Noah correctly pointed out that the hat was actually checkered... please don't tell the folks in Alabama.
If you're not sure if Bear Bryant is a legend, you can go past Bear Bryant High School and get to the campus. Once there, you can make a right on Bear Bryant Way, a left on Bear Bryant Lane, take another right on Bear Bryant Boulevard and then park outside of the Paul Bear Bryant Museum. The woman in the houndstooth skirt will fill you in!
After shopping, we made our way to the Walk of Champions. This is the walkway that the team crosses before every game. Every National Championship team member has their name engraved in the walkway. Great names like Joe Namath, Dwight Stevenson, Lee Roy Jordan and Young Boozer. Actually, I never heard of Young Boozer but his name was in the walkway and I think it is a great name for a college kid!
Then we made our way over to The Walk of Fame at Denny Chimes. Every Alabama captain since 1947 has had their hand and foot prints placed in cement. More great names like Ozzie Newsome, Cornelius Bennett, Derrick Thomas and Drunk Guard.
I have to admit, I made up that last name just to see if you are paying attention.
After visiting Denny Chimes, we searched for our tailgate tent. There are hundreds, if not thousands of tents set up for the next day's game. Wherever there is a blade of grass, you will find a tent. The University provides electricity for each tent so most tents have a flat screen set up for viewing other SEC football games or if you are not one of the 101,000 fans lucky enough to have a ticket to the game, you can watch it on campus.
Once we found our tent, we decided to get ribs at Dreamland. If you think that Dreamland is the perfect name for a nice restaurant that provides a world famous dining experience... you would be wrong. It is a world-famous dining experience but the place is a dump. A dump located right across from a run-down trailer park.
When we sat down, Jess asked about the menus. I pointed to the chalk board and told her... there is your menu... do you want a half slab or a whole slab and do you want a piece of sausage? I will say, they have added sides since I was last here.
Those are the only two dishes sold at Dreamland. They do have appetizers, if you count white bread as an appetizer. The locals rave about the white bread. To me, it tasted just like any other white bread... until you dunked it in the delicious sauce. They could serve sponges as an appetizer as long as they serve them with that sauce.
The food is unbelievable. If you only serve two things, it had better be delicious... and it is.
The dessert menu has only one item... banana pudding. It does not disappoint. I am not exaggerating when I say, from the time that they placed our paper plates in front of us, to the time we paid our bill, about twenty five minutes elapsed.
Dreamland does not disappoint.
Now, at this point we were stuffed and we were tired so we should have headed back to the hotel. But this trip was different... this trip included Jess. Jess is a lot like Cheryl. She always has a smile on her face. She is always upbeat. She always finds something positive about even the worst circumstance. Yep, she can be just as annoying as Cheryl.
At one point, I told Matthew that Jess reminded me of his mother, except she has a lot more energy than your mother.
So after stuffing our faces in preparation for our nap, a nap that I am 100% sure that my lovely wife would have been all in favor of, Jess suggested that we go bowling. We have to do something!
Sleeping is something! Isn't it?
Oh yeah, one difference between Cheryl and Jess that I forgot to mention... Jess is a lot more competitive than Cheryl. Behind that perpetual smile lies the heart of a killer! Our day ended after two hard fought games. Luckily, I was on her team!
Saturday's game started at 6:00 p.m. Which meant that we had to get to the campus by 11:00 a.m. That's right... seven hours before kick off. And get this... we were late! The tailgate parties start early and they run all day long. By the time the game started, we were exhausted. Noah nearly fell asleep in the first half. If I had not sprung for the chips and queso, we would have lost him.
In some ways, the game is anti-climatic. The events leading up to the games are exhausting.
Billy takes great pleasure in setting up the weekend's events and then being a personal tour guide. He enjoys that others have a great time.
Alabama won big over Arkansas. We had a blast. We made it home safe and sound.
Roll Tide!
Friday, October 9, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The ol' gray gal...
She feels that this will free her from expensive dye jobs and constant upkeep. More than that though, she just wants to be who she is... just be herself.
I have heard of men going through a mid-life crisis and doing whatever they can do to recapture their youth, but I have no explanation for a woman assisting nature with speeding up the aging process.
Cheryl sees herself as a trendsetter, and I must admit, I have heard several women wish her well... as if she were getting ready to embark on a battle with some life changing illness or something.
Personally, I am delighted by her decision because it makes me look much younger than she. People think she is a cougar going after a man nearly half her age. They all say... Man, her husband looks good, and she is lucky to get a man that is half her age.
They haven't actually said that stuff, but I am pretty sure that they are all thinking it!
The other day, I called Cheryl from work and she told me that her sister had just left our home. Cheryl mentioned that said sister had just gone the beauty parlor and had had her hair done with highlights and a series of other "tune ups" which made her look very pretty and young as ever, Cheryl joked, knowing that I tease her about her growout.
She looks 'young as ever'? She just wants to look good for her man.
Oh sure, by keeping herself looking young. Good thing I don't have to worry about that. Wink.
Well, you may be singing a different tune when I take off with some twenty-four-year-old hottie.
You think so? Are you still taking the boys to Alabama this weekend for the big football game? ... an obvious attempt to change the topic from the uncomfortable thought of losing me to a younger woman.
Yeah, we leave Friday, why are you asking me that? You know we are going.
When are you coming home?
Sunday morning. Why all the focus on my schedule?
Because I want to be sure that I would have enough time to pack up all of your and your mom's stuff and put it out on the curb! You know... if I had to.
Wait... wait... why would you pack up my poor ol' mother and boot her out of the house? That hardly seems fair to her.
Well, I thought that your twenty-four-year-old would love the opportunity to take care of you... and your mom. Plus you'd need your mom along to do your laundry.
Noah reported that Cheryl smiled and winked at him when she said all of this, but I am not sure. I think that she thinks that my leaving her for an imaginary twenty-four-year-old would not work out very well for me. This, of course, got me to thinking about some of the other stuff that my imaginary twenty-four-year-old might not do that Cheryl does.
Here is a short list:
She wouldn't iron my shirts every morning. Cheryl, and all of her gray hair, gets up every morning and irons a shirt for me. Cheryl is very nice!
She wouldn't be able to help Matthew with his Algebra II/Trig and Chemistry homework. Remember, my young girlfriend is a hottie and I did not fall for her for her mind. To be fair, I can't help Matthew with his homework and I am amazed that Cheryl can. She looks at Matthew's books and learns the material well enough to teach it. I am not sure that she ever took those subjects in high school or college. The old gray gal is very smart!
The fake girl wouldn't homeschool Noah. Same reason as why she can't help Matthew. In fact, my girl can't add or subtract which is good because I am going to keep telling her that I am only ten years her elder.
She wouldn't be able to give my daughter any insight on any problems that she may be having. Cheryl is pretty wise about girlie stuff and always gives great advice. You know, when you think about it, my fake girlfriend is only five years older than my daughter. OOOH! That is gross!
Alright, I have changed my mind, I am staying with Cheryl.
Besides, I really do love the gray.
But this is nothing new. Do you remember the movie the Ten Commandments when Moses left Egypt and in doing so also left beautiful dark haired Nefretiri? Moses ended up marrying the shepherd's eldest daughter with her salt and pepper grayish hair... which she probably put up in a bun with a number 2 pencil... much like some other gray-haired girl that we all know and love.
Anyway, I always thought that the shepherd's daughter was way prettier than Nefretiri. I would have chosen her every time.
The fact is, I will love Cheryl no matter what she does with her hair. I am content to grow old... but not at the same pace as Cheryl... with my cougar wife.
Did you know that the woman who played Moses' wife was Yvonne DeCarlo. Did you know that Yvonne DeCarlo also starred as Lily Munster in the TV show The Munsters.
Can you imagine what people will think if Cheryl ends up looking like Lily Munster. I will tell you what they will think... Man her husband looks good and she is lucky to get a man half her age.
This gray hair thing is working out well for both of us.
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| Sephora, The Ten Commandments |
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| Lily Munster |
Friday, October 2, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... The Lunch Date...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
I feel bad. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. I never thought I would be "that guy."
Fortunately, I am always honest so I immediately confessed my transgression to Cheryl. I certainly would not ever want to hurt her, but I have discovered that some things are just out of my control... some things are just bigger than... well, bigger than my relationship with my wife.
There I said it!
What did I do that is causing me so much angst... I went on a lunch date with someone other than my wife. And the worse part was that I had a great time.
To be fair, I did not intend to go on this date. I did not even initiate the date. I didn't even want to go on the date. But I did... and now I fear that there is no turning back.
It all started about three months ago when we hired two young gals to work as associates in our office. Both Karen and Stephanie are smart, pretty young attorneys that had clerked for two of our county's circuit court judges. I had interacted with them on several occasions before hiring them but never really had the opportunity to spend any significant time with them. One thing I can say for sure is that everyone that meets them, loves them. We are lucky to have them, and we are sure that they will be a great addition to our office.
Part of their training includes having to follow me around and help me with my cases. They have gotten to see how I maneuver my way through the legal field, and I don't want to brag or anything but... I can be quite impressive.
Not really. I am pretty ordinary, but they are new and don't know any better!
As you might guess, over the past months, having spent so much time with both of them, we have gotten to know each other pretty well. We seem to be getting along and working together quite succesfully.
Typically, after handling our morning cases, we go our separate ways for lunch, but this last Wednesday, as they were heading out to grab a bite, they asked if I would like to join them.
Honestly, I really did not want to go, but they had asked... and we had been working pretty hard over the past few months. I thought it would be a good gesture to join them. It also thought it might be a good opportunity, outside of the office, for them to ask me any questions that they have been contemplating or voice any concerns that they may be facing.
Before we left, I had to meet a client, so I told them to go on ahead and I would join them as soon as I finished.
When I finally entered the restaurant, I was a bit surprised to find a third person sitting at the table. A person that I had never met. Had they not seen me, I would have turned around and walked out... but it was too late. Now I felt like I was kind of intruding.
This third person was similar to the two associates... young, attractive, and seemed pretty smart. I said hello and complimented his outfit.
That's right, I said his outfit. "She" was a guy and it was pretty clear that he was interested in one of the girls. It then dawned on me that I was the fourth wheel in this luncheon. Typically, this would be called a double date with four people, but in this case, I was just a fourth wheel... an old worn out fourth wheel.
Over the next forty five minutes, I had to figure out what in the world was I going to talk about with these three people who were young enough to be my children... and two of the three were on a real live lunch date.
I don't remember the new kid's name... I think it was Carl... but I do remember that he was wearing his Redskin hat backwards (a sure sign of youth) and a Redskin shirt.
Nice outfit! I actually said outfit because that is what my wife would say. I have now become the old guy that starts to sound like his wife. No single guy would ever refer to another guy's get-up as an outfit. I regretted my choice of words. I should have led with... Wasssup brah? but I didn't.
Huh, oh yeah. You a fan?
Yeah, but it keeps getting tougher and tougher to hang in there with them.
Gotta hang in there.
Thanks for the sage advise whippersnapper. Let me tell you something... I suffered through more losses in my day than you can possibly imagine, so don't lecture me on the proper fan etiquette. Keep your little advice to yourself.
I didn't say all that... But I was thinking it!
I was going to tell him how great it used to be back in the day when they were winning Super Bowls, but I quickly changed course when I realized that reminiscing about the "good old days" was the last thing that I wanted to do at this point. This joker probably wasn't even alive when the Redskins won their last Super Bowl.
So what do you do? I politely asked... trying to make some small talk.
I am a firefighter.
Wow, that seems pretty cool. I could see my son doing that someday. Out of curiosity, did you take any special classes or do any special training to become a firefighter?
Well, not really... I played baseball in college.
Wait... What? Where did you go to college?
It turns out, he went to the same college as a couple of kids that I had coached. And it turns out that not only did he know them, he roomed with one of them. They are the best of friends. And it turns out, that he was home-schooled and played high school baseball for a long-time friend of our family. And it turns out that through his firefighting and baseball, he was familiar with many of the same people that I knew, including my brother and nephews. And get this... the more we talked, the more we had in common. It turns out that when he was 12 years old, he played for a team that I coached against.
What a small world!
It turned out that he and I talked throughout the entire lunch. Ol' Karen and whatshername could not get a word in edgewise. Apparently, they did not have as much in common with Carl as I.
The four of us spent an entire lunch together... at least I think that Karen and Stephanie stuck around... and I saw no evidence of any connection between Stephanie and Carl.
Frankly, I am ashamed to admit, I sat and monopolized all of his time. I did not think of Stephanie or Karen one bit.
Here is what I do know... Carl and I had a great time.
When we finally got back to the office, I inquired as to what was Carl's deal. It turns out that he may have been a teensy bit interested in Stephanie and arranged for that lunch date. Whatever!
I apologized for hogging him, but I've got to be honest... he never even glanced her way the whole time we were talking.
After my sincere apology, I did try to clear one thing up... I asked Stephanie if she were not interested, would she mind if I went out to lunch with him again.
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
In fact, I apologized again today and Stephanie said no problem. She told me that he thought that I was pretty cool.
Wait, did you ask him... or did he just out of the blue just say that I was cool. And did he say pretty cool or really cool?
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
I am a happily married man and have plenty of friends. And if all that goes up in smoke...
I can always look back and fondly recall... The Lunch Date!
I feel bad. I feel guilty. I feel ashamed. I never thought I would be "that guy."
Fortunately, I am always honest so I immediately confessed my transgression to Cheryl. I certainly would not ever want to hurt her, but I have discovered that some things are just out of my control... some things are just bigger than... well, bigger than my relationship with my wife.
There I said it!
What did I do that is causing me so much angst... I went on a lunch date with someone other than my wife. And the worse part was that I had a great time.
To be fair, I did not intend to go on this date. I did not even initiate the date. I didn't even want to go on the date. But I did... and now I fear that there is no turning back.
It all started about three months ago when we hired two young gals to work as associates in our office. Both Karen and Stephanie are smart, pretty young attorneys that had clerked for two of our county's circuit court judges. I had interacted with them on several occasions before hiring them but never really had the opportunity to spend any significant time with them. One thing I can say for sure is that everyone that meets them, loves them. We are lucky to have them, and we are sure that they will be a great addition to our office.
Part of their training includes having to follow me around and help me with my cases. They have gotten to see how I maneuver my way through the legal field, and I don't want to brag or anything but... I can be quite impressive.
Not really. I am pretty ordinary, but they are new and don't know any better!
As you might guess, over the past months, having spent so much time with both of them, we have gotten to know each other pretty well. We seem to be getting along and working together quite succesfully.
Typically, after handling our morning cases, we go our separate ways for lunch, but this last Wednesday, as they were heading out to grab a bite, they asked if I would like to join them.
Honestly, I really did not want to go, but they had asked... and we had been working pretty hard over the past few months. I thought it would be a good gesture to join them. It also thought it might be a good opportunity, outside of the office, for them to ask me any questions that they have been contemplating or voice any concerns that they may be facing.
Before we left, I had to meet a client, so I told them to go on ahead and I would join them as soon as I finished.
When I finally entered the restaurant, I was a bit surprised to find a third person sitting at the table. A person that I had never met. Had they not seen me, I would have turned around and walked out... but it was too late. Now I felt like I was kind of intruding.
This third person was similar to the two associates... young, attractive, and seemed pretty smart. I said hello and complimented his outfit.
That's right, I said his outfit. "She" was a guy and it was pretty clear that he was interested in one of the girls. It then dawned on me that I was the fourth wheel in this luncheon. Typically, this would be called a double date with four people, but in this case, I was just a fourth wheel... an old worn out fourth wheel.
Over the next forty five minutes, I had to figure out what in the world was I going to talk about with these three people who were young enough to be my children... and two of the three were on a real live lunch date.
I don't remember the new kid's name... I think it was Carl... but I do remember that he was wearing his Redskin hat backwards (a sure sign of youth) and a Redskin shirt.
Nice outfit! I actually said outfit because that is what my wife would say. I have now become the old guy that starts to sound like his wife. No single guy would ever refer to another guy's get-up as an outfit. I regretted my choice of words. I should have led with... Wasssup brah? but I didn't.
Huh, oh yeah. You a fan?
Yeah, but it keeps getting tougher and tougher to hang in there with them.
Gotta hang in there.
Thanks for the sage advise whippersnapper. Let me tell you something... I suffered through more losses in my day than you can possibly imagine, so don't lecture me on the proper fan etiquette. Keep your little advice to yourself.
I didn't say all that... But I was thinking it!
I was going to tell him how great it used to be back in the day when they were winning Super Bowls, but I quickly changed course when I realized that reminiscing about the "good old days" was the last thing that I wanted to do at this point. This joker probably wasn't even alive when the Redskins won their last Super Bowl.
So what do you do? I politely asked... trying to make some small talk.
I am a firefighter.
Wow, that seems pretty cool. I could see my son doing that someday. Out of curiosity, did you take any special classes or do any special training to become a firefighter?
Well, not really... I played baseball in college.
Wait... What? Where did you go to college?
It turns out, he went to the same college as a couple of kids that I had coached. And it turns out that not only did he know them, he roomed with one of them. They are the best of friends. And it turns out, that he was home-schooled and played high school baseball for a long-time friend of our family. And it turns out that through his firefighting and baseball, he was familiar with many of the same people that I knew, including my brother and nephews. And get this... the more we talked, the more we had in common. It turns out that when he was 12 years old, he played for a team that I coached against.
What a small world!
It turned out that he and I talked throughout the entire lunch. Ol' Karen and whatshername could not get a word in edgewise. Apparently, they did not have as much in common with Carl as I.
The four of us spent an entire lunch together... at least I think that Karen and Stephanie stuck around... and I saw no evidence of any connection between Stephanie and Carl.
Frankly, I am ashamed to admit, I sat and monopolized all of his time. I did not think of Stephanie or Karen one bit.
Here is what I do know... Carl and I had a great time.
When we finally got back to the office, I inquired as to what was Carl's deal. It turns out that he may have been a teensy bit interested in Stephanie and arranged for that lunch date. Whatever!
I apologized for hogging him, but I've got to be honest... he never even glanced her way the whole time we were talking.
After my sincere apology, I did try to clear one thing up... I asked Stephanie if she were not interested, would she mind if I went out to lunch with him again.
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
In fact, I apologized again today and Stephanie said no problem. She told me that he thought that I was pretty cool.
Wait, did you ask him... or did he just out of the blue just say that I was cool. And did he say pretty cool or really cool?
She laughed... Of course, I was just kidding!
I am a happily married man and have plenty of friends. And if all that goes up in smoke...
I can always look back and fondly recall... The Lunch Date!
Friday, September 25, 2015
Funny Guy Friday... Of popes and orange juice...
Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So, I married a funny guy...
When Matthew was six or seven years old, one day after church, we went to Cheryl's parents' home for brunch. My mother-in-law served us some juice and got us a plate of food. Matthew was uncharacteristically grumpy and out of sorts. I asked him what was bothering him, but he had no good answer.
When Matthew was six or seven years old, one day after church, we went to Cheryl's parents' home for brunch. My mother-in-law served us some juice and got us a plate of food. Matthew was uncharacteristically grumpy and out of sorts. I asked him what was bothering him, but he had no good answer.
After a few minutes, I had had enough of his attitude and asked him to step into another room. I asked him what was bothering him...
I hate the Pope!
What? You don't like the Pope?
Nope.
Why not?
I dunno... I just don't like the Pope.
The head of the Catholic Church... You don't like him?
No... not that guy... the stuff in the orange juice.
Okay... that is called pulp... and you can go get yourself some milk.
Problem solved.
Now I have my own Pope problem. He came to town and I was completely shut out. The Pope came to town and I did not get a sniff of the guy. No Masses, no speeches, no glimpse of His Holiness in his little Pope Mobile.
No sir... I did not get the Willie Wonka ticket!
And if Facebook is any indication, everyone else did get the golden ticket and had the opportunity to hang out with Il Papa.
Seriously... friends, neighbors, and fellow parish members were all over the place,
And you can say what you want about his agenda (which I will in a minute) but he makes himself available to the people. It got to the point that I thought that the folks were passing around the church's cardboard cutout of the guy.
He even left all of those powerful politicians on the Senate floor and had breakfast with the homeless. My guess is that he wanted to go someplace quieter where people weren't begging him for money!
Seriously, this dude is like a rock star playing venues in Washington, D.C., New York City, and Philadelphia. Like an old, slow talking, energetic rock star. Picture Mick Jagger with an accent... a Spanish accent, not his regular British one.
I don't understand why I did not get selected to attend any of the three days' worth of events. I attend church every week. I give money every week. I even run that stupid Labor Day Festival for the church every year. That has to be worth something.
You know, I was even at the church the night that they picked out the lucky winners of the tickets to attend the Papal Mass. I specifically told them how to spell my last name. Still... nothing!
It has to be Cheryl... clearly, she is not doing enough.
Truth be told, it could be my fault. You see, the Pope and I don't see eye to eye on everything. Ever since he was selected, he has stopped consulting me on various issues. As a result, he has said some things that I do not agree with.
Some folks tried to attribute these statements to "getting lost in translation." And I accepted that... the first time. The third, fourth and fifth time, I came to my own conclusion that he really meant what he was saying.
Now don't get me wrong, I am not out there declaring that the Emperor has no clothes. I am just saying that I don't like all of the clothes that he wears and... I wish that he would wear more of the clothes that I like.
And I have to admit, I am really struggling with this.
Like all Catholics, I go to confession once a week, er, uh month.... Okay I go about three or four times a year. One thing that I have discussed with the priest is that I get frustrated with things and want them to be the way that I want them. I am always reminded that it is not my will that shall be done but His will that shall be done.
God has seen to it that this Pope will have this position at this time, and God has his own plan, whatever it may be. I just wish that the Pope was more direct about the life of the unborn when he spoke before Congress.... Dang it! There I go again!
Truth be told, I am sure that in D.C., he made almost every politician squirm just a little bit and that's not such a bad thing.
God's plan will be revealed and I need to be open to whatever that plan may be. Pray for me. Pray for Pope Francis.
No sir... I did not get the Willie Wonka ticket!
And if Facebook is any indication, everyone else did get the golden ticket and had the opportunity to hang out with Il Papa.
Seriously... friends, neighbors, and fellow parish members were all over the place,
And you can say what you want about his agenda (which I will in a minute) but he makes himself available to the people. It got to the point that I thought that the folks were passing around the church's cardboard cutout of the guy.
He even left all of those powerful politicians on the Senate floor and had breakfast with the homeless. My guess is that he wanted to go someplace quieter where people weren't begging him for money!
Seriously, this dude is like a rock star playing venues in Washington, D.C., New York City, and Philadelphia. Like an old, slow talking, energetic rock star. Picture Mick Jagger with an accent... a Spanish accent, not his regular British one.
I don't understand why I did not get selected to attend any of the three days' worth of events. I attend church every week. I give money every week. I even run that stupid Labor Day Festival for the church every year. That has to be worth something.
You know, I was even at the church the night that they picked out the lucky winners of the tickets to attend the Papal Mass. I specifically told them how to spell my last name. Still... nothing!
It has to be Cheryl... clearly, she is not doing enough.
Truth be told, it could be my fault. You see, the Pope and I don't see eye to eye on everything. Ever since he was selected, he has stopped consulting me on various issues. As a result, he has said some things that I do not agree with.
Some folks tried to attribute these statements to "getting lost in translation." And I accepted that... the first time. The third, fourth and fifth time, I came to my own conclusion that he really meant what he was saying.
Now don't get me wrong, I am not out there declaring that the Emperor has no clothes. I am just saying that I don't like all of the clothes that he wears and... I wish that he would wear more of the clothes that I like.
And I have to admit, I am really struggling with this.
Like all Catholics, I go to confession once a week, er, uh month.... Okay I go about three or four times a year. One thing that I have discussed with the priest is that I get frustrated with things and want them to be the way that I want them. I am always reminded that it is not my will that shall be done but His will that shall be done.
God has seen to it that this Pope will have this position at this time, and God has his own plan, whatever it may be. I just wish that the Pope was more direct about the life of the unborn when he spoke before Congress.... Dang it! There I go again!
Truth be told, I am sure that in D.C., he made almost every politician squirm just a little bit and that's not such a bad thing.
God's plan will be revealed and I need to be open to whatever that plan may be. Pray for me. Pray for Pope Francis.
Please understand that unlike my son, I do not hate the Pope.
But before I conclude I have to be completely honest about one thing. Although I am working on being less judgmental and open to God's will, I have to come clean on one thing...
I am not that crazy about the pulp!
But before I conclude I have to be completely honest about one thing. Although I am working on being less judgmental and open to God's will, I have to come clean on one thing...
I am not that crazy about the pulp!
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