Get Hot Much?

About a week ago an article ran in the paper. A young woman was directed by a judge to attend anger management classes. She arrived just as the instructor was about to play a video for the class.

Seems it wasn't to "taste."  She sat in the back of the room. As she watched she squirmed and fidgeted and made numerous derogatory comments. Finally, another girl in front of her (who had also been required to take the class), turned around and asked her to be quiet. To please listen and "give it a chance."

At which point our unhappy camper stood up and repeatedly stabbed the other girl numerous times causing her to be hospitalized.

Whoa....

Someone needs an anger management class.

Oh.

Wait.....

Critics

The galleries are full of critics. They play no ball, they fight no fights. They make no mistakes because they attempt nothing. Down in the arena are the doers. They make mistakes because they try many things. The man who makes no mistakes lacks boldness and the spirit of adventure. He is the one who never tries anything. His is the brake on the wheel of progress. And yet it cannot be truly said he makes no mistakes, because his biggest mistake is the very fact that he tries nothing, does nothing, except criticize those who do things.
Gen. David M. Shoup

Who's On First?

This is another of those posts that I stewed about for quite a while, wrote and finally erased.

You know, sometimes we're unfortunate spectators in events where we watch other people make momentous mistakes...

As fallible mortals we have a tendency to jump on the band wagon to judge, condemn and criticize.

That's not what we're supposed to do.

I'm trying to remember that.

T-Shirt Time!

Do you repeat everything you hear? "No, just everything I see!" So in the mode of 'Bumper Snickers' I will now dedicate some space to Terrific T-Shirts!

Seen in the Richland Farmer's Market on an 80 year old man...

Follow Your Dreams!
Except that one where you're naked in church...
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Thanks - I Think

Just when you thought it was safe to go into the water woods...



In A Rush

#1 Daughter went school shopping with The Youngest a year ago. Picked out a nice wardrobe for the boy. But there was a pull over sweater that she insisted he get that he refused to wear.

"Hey, great looking sweater," I'd say.  "Why don't you wear it?"

I'd get 'the look.'

No?

Well, okay.

So this fall, he runs out of clothes one morning and the sweater is the only thing left to wear. He comes out of his room, wearing it. A grumpy look on his face. Goes off to school, comes home and the sweater heads to the wash.

Following week, with plenty of clothes in his dresser...he comes out with the hated sweater on, again.

I hide my smile.

Someone, at school, must have mentioned they liked it.

It has become a regular in the rotation now.

We've become a bit finicky about the hair also. The other guys are using pomade to style their hair. Must have some now.

We also have to have a trim every 4 weeks. (This from the kid we used to have to sit on to get his hair cut...)

Aftershave, body wash, deodorant, also on the must have list.

So this morning the boy is in a rush to leave. Mind you we get up @ 5:15am so we can get everyone showered, fed and done reading scriptures by 6:15.  His zero hour class starts at 6:50 and it's a half hour drive. The Youngest is the worst foot dragger of us all. It's usually a task to get him shoveled in the car, ready to go.

Today he's the first one out the door. At 6:16am he's calling the house, from the cell phone...from the car that is in the driveway. Hurry up Dad!

At 6:20 the phone rings again.

???

Okay guys, enuf w/the fun and games. It's too early to run for the phone.

But this time it's Farm Boy. And he's laughing. "Know why he was in such a rush," he asks? "He had to stop @ the corner store to get GUM! Oh wait, here he comes, gotta go!"

...

I wonder what her name is?
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Gotta Get You A Edumacation

Long time ago and far away....

The Commander was, I believe, in 7th grade. Skinny little kid, big serious eyes.

We're going into town and he starts to repeat this joke he heard at school.  See mom...

There were these three ducks. They were in the pond in the park and a police man arrested them.

They went to court. The first one went before the judge. Judge says, "What's your name."

First duck says, "Duck."

Judge looks at him...then asks what he was doing to get arrested. Duck says he was just swimming around the pond blowing bubbles.

Judge is a little confused about why the duck is in his courtroom.

Judge then calls the second duck up and asks, "What's your name."

Second ducks says, "Duck Duck."

Judge quirks an eyebrow, then asks what he was doing to get arrested. 2nd duck replies that he too was just swimming around the pond, blowing bubbles.

???

So the judge calls the third and final duck up. Asks his name and says, "No wait, let me guess, you're Duck Duck Duck, right?"

The little duck blushes, looks at his tiny webbed feet and shyly says, "No...my name is Bubbles."

You know when you start to laugh, stifle it and just end up snorting? The young Commander was watching my face, checking my reaction and starts laughing. Pauses, then, in all seriousness, confesses, "Mom, I don't get it."

Ummm.

So we get to have a little discussion. Gotta love these 'teaching moments'.

A couple of years ago it was time for The Youngest to have his turn. Came home with questions after listening to his middle school classmates and their raging hormones. Again I got to have a little heart to heart. Bubbles rears his head... a lot of the jokes that you can't tell in church are down right useful as conversation starters and especially valuable as a sensitive, newly minted teenager finds out that his big brother, (who's famous for being cool and 'all that and a bag of chips') had the same questions - at the same time - at the same age.

Last nite, the Youngest, who is now a sophomore, comes home after taping a volleyball match. Someone got a hold of some helium filled balloons and a hysterical comedy routine with wacky voices followed. It didn't take long for the subject matter to go south and The Youngest noted he "learned" quite a bit...

I'm grateful for the school system, still -  this incident gives new meaning to continued education.

And apparently, Ol' Bubbles is lookin' pretty tame.
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No Contest

Remember the song that goes...

Old men sit and talk about the weather. Old women sit and talk about old men.

Yes?

So - the other day, a gal, in exasperation, talks about some frustrating things her husband is doing and makes the comment... "I don't know which are worse, kids or men!"

I look at her, raise an eyebrow and say, "Really? Is there any contest? Kids grow up, move out and are gone..."

She says, "Yeah, huh."

Yeah.

Hands down. Men. Win.
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How Do Ya Get Out Of This Chicken Outfit?

Worked in the yard this weekend. Got the loppers and saw out and ended up doing a version of I Fought The Law Shrub & The Shrub Won. Finally, scratched and bleeding, we ended up with enuf limbs and branches to make a run to the dump.

On our way we saw a cyclist. The gal, with her helmet, tiny little exercise top and spandex bicycle shorts, was at least 10 lbs. underweight and had some impressive toning going on as muscles rippled in her legs and arms.

"Who's that?" I asked The Youngest. We went by too fast for me to catch a glimpse of her face and I inquired if she might be one of his young friends.

"No," he snorted, " She's an old lady, she has chalkboard arms."

Huh?

"You know, the flab underneath her arms?"

...


What? Again with the arms?

I didn't catch "the flab underneath her arms." I, frankly, was too impressed with what I could see of the rest of her body.

You know us older types just can't catch a break from these punks. This woman obviously worked out diligently and it showed but the 15 year old boy immediately tagged her for not being perfect.

Later in the day I noted a heading, on the MSN home page, titled Essential Fall Fashion Picks for Women in Their 50's.

I'm not sure what I was expecting but it wasn't "perfect" 30 year old models, in tank tops/sleeveless blouses and above the knee pencil skirts.

The vast majority of my friends couldn't wear stuff like that and of the one's who could, most, wouldn't.

You know, I am of the generation who have finally seen women, their intellect and the contributions we can make to society become somewhat appreciated, or at least acknowledged. Still there are always reality checks. I caught the commentary on a TV show about an older man who was dating an attractive, much younger woman that went..."Well it works, she gets security, he gets - her."

Sigh.

I sometimes despair. Regardless of what we have to offer, as people/human beings, too often it seems a woman's ultimate worth is judged by flabby arms and whether we can still look good in a tight skirt.

Doesn't quite level the playing field, does it?
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Goldilocks and Just Right

When you are in a car for 4-6 hours you want to be comfortable. One of the first considerations is temperature. Too hot? Run the air conditioner. Too cold? Try some heat.

But...

When you deliver mail  - one window always has to be open. So that heating/air conditioning thing?

Works - kinda.

For the last couple of weeks tho, the temperature outside has been just right to have both the windows open and I get to enjoy the crisp, fall air.

So...

I pull up to a mail box. It is just slightly past the house and across the street. I gather their mail and start to place it in the box when SOMEONE runs up, sticks their head in the other window and yells, "HIYA!!!!"

AAAAAHHH!

Bwahahahahahahahahahaha! He laughs hysterically and skitters around to the other side to grab his mail.

I'm still sputtering, but miraculously have not gone into cardiac arrest due to being scared out of my wits, and manage to grit out, "You. are. worse. than. your. brothers." (That, by the way, was not a compliment.)

The 50+ year old juvenile delinquent cheerfully assures me, "Oh, I'm the best of the three of us!!!"

He's still grinning maniacally and continues, "That was great! You usually don't leave that other window open!"

??????

There's a reason for that....

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Opera Star

The pool is closed for the season.

Insert the sound of wailing...here.

So I have to find a new form of exercise. But face it. Exercise for the sake of exercise is not much fun. And all you gym freaks out there? Shut. Up.

The exercise bike sits in the corner. I'm sure it is beckoning to me. Tell me again why I talked Mom out of that hunk o' junk?
Sigh. Okay.

Everyone, climb aboard.

Wait. A little Aerosmith makes everything better. Climb off.

Climb on.

Whoops. Not loud enuf. Climb off.
Climb on.

Close my eyes and start singing along with Dream On.

Yeah. This is more like it...

Every time that I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone
It went by, like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay...

As I gather speed, I throw my head back, pump those peddles and bellow sing:

Dream On Dream On Dream On...
Dream until your dream comes true..

Then the "Dream On" goes up and octave or two...

Hey I'm game! Everyone else is gone so I open my throat and try to hit the high note.

And poor Chub Chub, who has been hiding in the laundry room to escape the decibel level, careens thru the TV room, like a greased pig sliding thru a fence, trying to find a safer place to be.

Oh.

Well.

Not "everyone" is gone.

Do they have cat psychologists?
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What If I Gave A Party And Nobody Came?

Not a problem last nite. Service project. Ward cannery session.

I'm well aware that I have "control issues." I like to have all my ducks in a row, things nicely planned out, all eventualities covered. However, I unwittingly went into that dark night unprepared. Thought I had it all together...

But I was WRONG.

Yes, you heard it here first ...

I was wrong.

It wasn't that we had too many people, or too much to do. Mostly it was just me overestimating my ability to tackle the amount of work that needed to be done in the given time frame.

So live and learn. Everyone was very patient. Very pleasant and very helpful. I gained some valuable insights. (Never too old to learn, yes?) And we got 'er done. The Youngest was absolutely magnificent. A few noble friends came to my rescue and Farm Boy was working at the other end of the operation pushing it along. His shirt was soaked with sweat before we were done and he made sure I knew that!

The time went fast. Still we were grateful when it was time to go home. As we left, the three of us looked at each other and definitely agreed it was a pizza nite. No one wanted to cook.

When we were comfortably flopped in our chairs, gnawing on our crusts, the dear husband managed to succinctly convey his thoughts on being recruited for the nite's endeavor... he looked at me and said in the nicest possible way:

"The next time you throw a party like this - feel free not to invite me."

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