The Perks of a Grand Opening

I read in the paper that a new "prototype" Kroger store was going to be opening at 8 a.m. today. The first 300 people through the door would receive a $10.00 Kroger card. I convinced my friend, Suzi, and my nephew Sean to go and reap the same benefits I knew I would get.

Sean arrived 4 minutes before we did and received his $10.00 card and a rose.
The problem was, the store ACTUALLY opened at 7 a.m. and thus...WE missed the first 300 lucky ducks by 14 "guests". We DID receive a rose, however...AND the listening pleasure of a local high school marching band playing (quite loudly) as they paraded around the beets, tomatoes and lettuce. Then there was the obligatory clown sweltering in his costume so I don't know how "Funny" he might have been.

By the way, there were about 45 people walking around in tuxedos asking if we needed any help..or questions answered..(not ONE knew the capital of Wyoming)..and then they always punctuated the conversation with, "Enjoy your shopping experience, as a guest, you're important to us"...as I started to leave with my cart overflowing, the security guard asked for my receipt. I told him if I were a true GUEST, do I have to PAY for my experience? I've NEVER charged any guest at my home for their dinner. AND I give out free doggie bags filled with left-overs! (now I suppose a small tip WOULD be appreciated)

So, back to the "experience"..Joe Nuxhall (former Reds pitcher and semi-retired sports broadcaster) was signing autographs in the furniture section. (this "prototype Kroger prides itself in being "more than food" so they have about 6 chairs and 3 picture frames and 10 towels to buy too)

One could have eaten enough in free food samples to prepare for 4 weeks on Survivor Island. I missed the samples of Pepto Bismal..

We received a free emergency kit. I haven't had an emergency yet so I don't know what is in it.

Although we missed our $10.00 gift card, we utilized a 10% off your purchase certificate that we received in the mail. Using that, along with my discount Kroger PLUS card, I received $19.95 off my groceries that I ultimately HAD to go back and pay for or end up with a FREE ride to the pokey.

This Krogers has a gas pump that as a member of the "Kroger Family" (first I'm a GUEST, then a FAMILY MEMBER..but I still have to pay?), I received 10 cents off every gallon of gasoline I purchase. Again, there was yet another tuxedoed gentleman dispensing coupons at the pump so I received: 2 dozen eggs; 1 lb of bacon; 2 pounds of Dole lettuce (isn't that the brand that had comtaminated product a few weeks ago?) AND my gas was 10 cents cheaper! I only filled 2 gallons but it was worth it for the coupon-freebies, right?

The only problem, I mused as I drove off, was that if I had gone to Walmart, I might not have spent a total of $198.76 for my $23.00 of "freebies".

I guess the "tuxedos" are counting on that.

Senior Moments

I remember when my 50th birthday rolled around...I received an un-solicited AARP membership card. ARGHH!!

But the sting went away as I realized I would not be enjoying TRUE senior discounts for years. AARP is just selling their membership and will probably lower the age to 35 in a couple of years. Hey, I just turned 55 in February and feel like I'm in my mid 30's (whoops, my mid-30's weren't that great..but that's another blog).

This week I felt a much bigger sting...like a mammoth Texas-sized yellow-jacket poised to munch on me big time...and it all happened in just one day.

I went to Frisches Big Boy for lunch and almost fell out of my booth when my eyes (bifoculed at that) glanced over at the Senior Menu - Age 55 and older.

WHAT?!!??!

I had actally been considering ordering a salad that would have saved me $1.20 on that "older" menu, but I decided to change my order to an entree not available to those with dentures.

I then determined that maybe at my age, I needed some exercise so I went to a local golf course that I had never played before. When I asked the golf pro how much the green fees were, he just pointed to a sign that said in big letters "Senior discount ~ age 55+ on Tuesdays"

After my golf round (yes, I used a cart, it was in the "Special!"), I headed straight to the "19th hole" to dull my "senior sorrows". I ordered a Bloody Mary from a very cheery 21 year old, size 2, former cheerleader-bartender. She served it up and said, "This is your lucky day, it's senior citizen happy hour and your drink is half off".
SHE DIDN'T EVEN ASK TO SEE MY ID!

Just as I was about to get really DEPRESSED, I calculated how much money that I saved that day.

Today, I am in a much better mood and I am writing letters to about 17 various companies that I deal with trying to convince them that they ought to lower their "senior discount" age from 60 to 55. That's My speed now and I might as well make the most of it!

Embarrassments Arrive Daily at My House

So, it was a nice lazy Sunday...although quite hot & humid...and I finally decided to take a late shower at 5:30 p.m.
I always enjoy my post-shower ritual of dabbing moisturizing cream on my face, arms and legs to smooth out the increasing wrinkles and dry skin that is attacking me by Leather-lips himself.
I was in "my zone" of thinking about 1200 things that I need to do when the doorbell rang. That jolted me right out of this hemisphere and I hurridly threw on a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt and ran to answer the door.

Standing there was a neighbor who was dressed to the nines (whatever that means) in a Sunday church dress and high heels. (Don't worry, she's a woman)
She looked at me a little odd as she asked for the $5.00 contribution towards the neighborhood block party.
I asked her to come in as I tried to dig up that amount.
Wouldn't you know ~ I had no money except the "throw your left-over change in a cup" stash. Church-lady seemed a little un-easy as I counted out the pennies, nickels and dimes (I save the quarters for buying the newspaper). I threw the $5.00 (that it took me 15 minutes to count out) in a baggie ~ and thanked her for stopping by as she mumbled "no problem" as she bolted and clicked her stillettos down the walk like she was late for choir practice.
(she also ignored the extended hand I offered as a "sign of peace")

As I headed back to the bathroom, I was startled by the face that stared in astonishment back at me in the mirror. I had dabbed the cream about my face and appendages but in my haste, I had not rubbed it in so I looked like a painted warrier from Zumbowow!

......and I'll bet my neighbor never even noticed how smooth my skin is.

150 Minutes with Children

YESTERDAY -

They came..and they went.

There were only 5 sweet little darling children of various ages.

It was only 2 and 1/2 hours.

1 - 6 week old baby who was really hungry
2- 5 year old boys with energy that any utility company would pay billions to harness.
1- 15 month-old boy who wants to dissect anything expensive ~ telephones, computer keyboards, computer video games, etc.
1 - 11 year old girl who, thank heavens, was there to help the other 3 adults!

1- basement with way too many options for game-playing and chances to argue over who gets to sit in one of four identical seats.

They came...and they went.

It was only 2 and 1/2 hours.

TODAY

I slept just 2 and 1/2 hours longer than usual.

Children are a Blessing, Right? Huh? Hello?

I just read about a 40 year old woman who gave birth to two sets of twins...no, that's not right..quadruplets. That would be FOUR children....at one time!!

After spending just 1 hour babysitting a 5 year old and a 14 month old who is faster than a speeding bullet, I cannot comprehend having FOUR children of the same age to care for. Especially when they don't get returned in a couple of hours to a set of parents.

But here's the real kicker ~ this mother gave birth to triplets 3 years ago!
(No, I'm not kidding..I did NOT read this in one of the smut-reputable magazines in line at Kroger, nor did this happen in the country of Baliwanna.)

So, now do you want to know what the "kicker-kicker" is?

Drum roll please....

This Mom said after the triplets were born, she was done having children. Could it be because she already had THREE kids before the trio?
She now she has TEN!!

Remember the nursery rhyme about the old lady in the shoe.."she had so many children, she didn't know what to do..."? She was no old lady, she was just 34 but LOOKED 93 because she had 8 children!

Back to the news story facts..the final line read, "The Mother is happy because she and the children are healthy, although she is a little nervous about being overwhelmed."

'Ya think?

p.s. No mention of the Father...he might have been in the same hospital having "a delicate elective surgical procedure"....or heart failure.

164 Day till Christmas!

Don't you think we all are just a tiny bit pre-occupied with TIME?
Now, stay with me, this will only take 2 minutes! We'll be done in a flash!
Oh, wait a second, I have to turn off my kitchen timer for my brownies.

OK, now, where were we?

OH, yeah, time. Today I read that the retail stores are already ordering their Christmas inventory....mid July...WOW. I still haven't played with all the games I "borrowed" from my nephews from LAST Christmas.

Do we ever have enough TIME to complete anything? How many times have you heard the breathless exasperation, "Where does the TIME go?"...or ~ "I don't have the TIME to do that"...or ~ "I just ran out of thyme"....(whoops..that might have been the le="font-weight:bold;">spice in a recipe from Martha...sorry that got thrown in there)

Are we just lousy at time management?
Certainly we have many more creature comforts and assistants than our fore-fathers and fore-mothers did to make our life easier and more manageable.
I can't imagine how my life would be if I had to head to the stream to beat my clothes clean. And if TV wasn't around to suggest which rock was the best at keeping my frock fresh and fluffy, I would waste time trying out a bunch of them!
Goodness, that task alone would have taken all day! Then I would NEVER have time to microwave dinner! Whoops...back "in the old days" there were no kitchen gadgets..I would have had to make my own fire and grow my own pepperoni for the pizza I would have to make from scratch.

Then where would I be as far as time goes?
I wouldn't have time to go to the movies, watch So You Think You Can Dance, General Hospital and Oprah. If I couldn't watch Oprah, I wouldn't know what books to read.
But then again, I wouldn't have time to read.

I'm not one to wear a time-piece. I am just one of those annoying individuals who keep asking everyone else what time it is, all the while boasting that "I am no slave of the clock".

Now I have to admit that I am a list-maker. I write out every night a time-table as to the projects I am to do and mark a time allotment next to the task. It is the ONLY way I get anything done. I adhere to it and never waiver. By just setting one of the 12 timers I have strategically placed around the house, I keep tight to my schedule. When that timer goes off, I am on to my next task.

I'm looking at my list of things to do and the next one is a doozy...it may make headlines...wish I could tell you but the timer just went off.

I was lucky enough to spend an afternoon at the swimming pool with my great nephew, Griffin, who is 5 years old, going on 15. We had such a good time playing water tag, torpedo under Peggy's legs, throwing the...well, it doesn't matter..whatever happens to be around, we throw.

When anyone asks him what his favorite thing is about the pool, he will flash an un-comparable grin and proceed to ramble on for 3 minutes, ending his enthusiasm with ~ "EVRYTHING IS AWESOME!"

What a great attitude he has!
On the way home he was yelling out his open car window more unbridled enthusiasm: "I love you, cars...I love you, trees, I love you stop sign, I love you Post Office, I love you man wearing a black shirt, I love you branches..."

For just an afternoon, he was the happiest boy in the world, as well as
one of the best teachers ~ with me being his student.
He taught me to stop the world every now and then and just...LOVE..love whatever you do and think it is AWESOME.

Thanks, Griff.

Lights, Camera, Action!

I feel sometimes like I am the Oscar winning director of my own personal made-for-TV movie ~ "Peggy's Life As An Perfect Person"


Ok, Ok, we can change the title depending upon what day of the week it is.
Maybe we even can alter it daily.

But seriously, don't you sometimes think that you are the one who is orchestrating the world around you? You, and only you, are the ONLY sole person with the correct perspective and everyone else is looney tunes?
And YOU, and you alone, can control all activities and feelings of those around you at any time.

Now, as you read the daily news and shake your head glancing at the most ridiculous stories, you can revel in the fact that your world is certainly NOT this world everyone READS about every day. Your world is organized, moral, law-abiding and happy.

Gosh, I sound like Bree on that Housewives Show on Sunday night.
Whoops, she is a murdering, alcoholic, irresponsible baby-sitter of a neighbor.

Well, maybe I just WISH I had more influence over this crazy world we live in.
Like, I wish I could control the lousy pitching of our sliding Reds team...or maybe finally find the killer of Jon Bennet...or try to re-write most of the words that rappers sing these days...or get people to look up to God for answers instead of the local drug-dealers.

If I were the world's director, I would make sure that people like the woman who adopted 14 children who all had "challenging" issues starred in the movie...instead of people like Colin Farrell and Russell (Mr."Phone-a-friend") Crowe.

And I would have TV soaps have less sex and more humor.

I would have the best commercials aim at selling cheap cameras to save memories instead of drinking Bud-Lite at every sporting event.

Oh, and I would take out all the soda out of vending machines and replace them with water and wine...er, I mean, naturally fortified liquids.

CUT...PRINT...send to editing.

I doubt if this will ever win any awards.

I Think I'm Allergic to the HEAT

Some people LOVE hot weather...I LOVE air-conditioning!

There is nothing of benefit to me when the sun beats down so hard that my make-up melts. I take on the features of person being tested in a G-force machine or maybe I look more like a bassit hound..on a bad day. Perspiration (or "moisture pellets" as my Mom used to say") that runs, not walks, down my eyebrows and follows the contour of my chin(s) is not only un-attractive, it qualifies for offering ridiculous stories like, "I'm on my way to a Halloween party..this is my costume."

I haven't heard the weather-forecasters talk about the "wind-chill factor" since March and I so miss that daily winter calculation. I guess when it is 90 degrees and there is a 5 m.p.h. breeze, it doesn't qualify for a mention. Maybe it wouldn't effect the clothes to be worn.

Oh, and the most obnoxious comments about the heat are: "Oh, it's a DRY heat..not bad at all" ~ WHAT??
So I feel microwaved and should feel ok about it because I'm not using windshield wipers on my upper lip??

I dread the comment: "I love the to putter in the garden in the hot weather because I work up a great sweat and feel like I've really been working."
Now THIS person needs counseling. Just contact any relative of Naomi Judd or Liza Minelli and they can tell you where the best 45 day recovery clinic is.

Hmmm..it seems as though I am getting "hot under the collar" about this "hot topic"..and am not exuding enough personal "warmth".

Deal with it..or just wait ~ I promise I'll be nicer in the fall.

A Child's First Business Venture

Today I stopped at a child-run lemonade stand that was a wee bit different from my first cold-drink stand. I suppose it is some kind of right of passage as an optimistic kid to at least ATTEMPT to sell something for what is thought to be a profit-maker like no other child had ever made in the history of a pre-teen business venture.

I remember my first try...I was about 4 or 5 years old and my little neighborhood friend Cathy and I decided to ask our Moms if we could sell kool-aid in front of my house.
Back in 1956, kool-aid came in packets that you ripped open and poured into a pitcher...add water and ice..find a few old cups around and BINGO!
You're in business!

We had to come to an agreement as to what flavor to sell. I liked grape and Cathy liked cherry. We settled that argument by my socking her in the eye and telling her that she couldn't be my 25% business partner unless she agreed with me.
So, grape kool-aid it was.

Next "challenge" ~ we needed a sign. I don't do signs so I made Cathy ask her Mom to produce the signage for our endeavor. I knew I could get MY Mom to help put up the card table and help me make the kool-aid (meaning that SHE did it).

The sign was made out of two pieces of paper taped together and in the middle of making the sign, Cathy's Mom had to answer the phone so Cathy had to finish it. Who knows how to spell Kool-aid at that age? Kule Ade was our business that day.

We decided that we would sell our libation for 10 cents a cup...or TWO for 15 cents.
(That idea was from my Dad...Mr. Super Salesman)
Mom suggested that we have a "bank" to provide change for our customers so I borrowed $1.25 in coins from her and off we went.

After 15 minutes, I told Cathy to take over the sales end while I checked our inventory. I went in the house and took a nap for an hour and when I returned, I saw that she made over 20 sales and even got a couple of tips. (tips were confiscated by me for rental of the card table).
All in all, we had a great time and it was quite a learning experience. (Cathy went on to become a lawyer..guess she never wanted her rights violated again)
We netted out $1.85 and spent it on candy.

Yesterday the lemondade stand was quite a bit different.
The stand was a computer desk that Bil Gates would have been proud to own. It held a food processor; a computer; printer; a small cash register and credit card machine.

Their sign looked like a New York Advertising Agency had produced it. It was even spelled correctly ~ although I'm sure they used a spell-checker.

The two little 7 year old sales-girls were dressed alike with t-shirts that had been embroidered with "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade"

They had REAL lemons that they put in the food processor and they served their drinks in souvenir mugs, which you could buy for an additional $8.00 (but it DID have that cute little saying etched on it)
The crystal sugar bowls offered sugar, sweet 'n low and splenda.

I think what really unnerved me was the fact that they even took American Express! But then again, for $3.50/serving, who carries that kind of cash?

As I walked away with my Mastercard receipt and my 6 souvenir mugs (yup, I'm a soft touch), I decided I was born just a few years too early.

I also tinkered with the idea of calling the IRS on them.

Fears - Founded or Un-founded?

Sometimes I worry WAY to much..and can't sleep thinking about how unnatural it is that I worry so much..then I worry about myself...are you following?
Worrying about worrying is the worst.

I mean, I don't worry about BIG things like, whether I can pay my car payment every month or if the mole on the right shoulder that is rapidly changing color and symmetry, should be examined by a medical professional.

No, I worry about the expiration date on my toothpaste. I found a tube of toothpaste pressed way in the back of my drawer in the bathroom and I had used it for about 10 days when I realized it had an expiration date. It expired in 1993. I couldn't get a wink of sleep all night wondering if either:
A) my teeth would surely fall out AND probably at a most embarrassing moment when I am saying grace in front of 12 guests...
or
B) my entire biological system has been infected by CREST-ites...little toothpaste germs that are attacking my corpusles and molecules as we breathe.

Last week I weighed a package that I was mailing out and put on the appropriate postage and popped it into the mailbox.
Then, POW!
I realized that once I added the stamps, maybe the weight of the 5 stamps I had just adhered to the bundle would push the needed postage to a new amount! I didn't sleep for 2 nights until I found out that the recipient of the package had received it.

I am ultra concerned that Hugh O'Brien, 81 and former star of Wyatt Earp who just recently married for the first time, will have a stroke on his honeymoon.

I worry that if the creator of the funny Serta mattress commercials with the cute talking sheep ever gets caught sleeping on a posture-pedic, he'll be fired. (and probably won't be able to sleep too well himself)

Although it is 6 months away, I am already frantic about the outdoor Christmas decorations having enough lights on the plastic flamingo-elves.

Now I won't sleep tonight thinking this was kind of a silly blog.

WAIT! I just read that worrying gives one premature old-person lines. Now something REAL to worry about!

Creature Comforts

Today I scheduled a break at 11 a.m. to catch the first few minutes of The View.
Why would I do that you might ask? Why would anyone want to tune in to see 5..or..4...or now 3 women "discuss" the same things you and your best friends and family argue about on a regular basis?
Well, in my case, it is because in reading my daily CNN internet headlines, I saw that Star Jones announced that she was leaving her seat on the show.

It's really no surprise based upon soon-to-fill-a-chair Rosie O'Donnell's "sensitive" remarks about Star and her weight-loss tactics; audience opinions about her feminine husband, her begging for gifts for her engagement, and her overall attitude. But the news story made it sound like Star made this proclamation without anyone's knowledge.
So, naturally, I wanted to see the "fall-out" on today's program.

Star didn't happen to show up for this show even though, she was supposed to leave in the fall, she FELL BIG TIME from the network's (ABC) grace and got dumped early.

Yup...no week-long farewell tour like Merideth's sappy elongated goodbye. No month-long emotional and fun-loving clips from past shows like Charlie Gibson's SECOND departure from co-hosting Good Morning America..
No waving at the crowd as they pay tribute with a 10 minute standing ovation in 29 cities like tennis retiree Andre Agassi. Nope...just a pink slip and a 2 minute cryptic bye-bye.

But the one thing that she might hae been able to take with her, was the cushion from her chair. All the View gals have their own cushion on what looks to be an already comfortable chair. That always baffled me why they needed additional comfort as they are only IN those chairs about 57 minutes. I've heard them say they keep the air-conditioning at freezing to keep both show hosts and audience members awake...wouldn't it be cheaper to just sit on a nice hard chair? (maybe add a tack or two now and then when the guests are really boring?)

Here I am working at my desk in a hard wooden chair that is way too old and rickety to even qualify for antique status. I sit in this chair upwards to 10 hours/day with the only comfort being my own God-given cushion (which is way more than ample).

Guess I shouldn't complain...I don't have to answer to ABC OR Barbara Walters...and good luck to Rosie O'Donnell. I know one person who probably won't be tuning in to see how comfortably she sits in her chair.

Superstitious?

I guess I am what some might call just a little superstitious by default.…”De-fault” of my Mother! I grew up with my Mom spewing a multitude of no-no’s due to her superstitious up-bringing. One that I remember not-so-fondly was her insisting that no one “sing before you eat, or you’ll cry before you sleep”. My Dad would “press her buttons” by coming down the stairs in the morning singing his fool head off just to annoy her. She would immediately snap, “No singing before breakfast!“ Then he switched to whistling. That would only infuriate her more so he would start humming. Mom would throw a grape down our throats just so that would constitute breakfast so Dad’s musical influence would not effect our day.

If Mom saw a black cat about to cross the path of her car, she would literally stop the vehicle, and turn it around. One time it took us 2 hours to get to school due to our detours. I wonder if the President or his limo driver shared such feelings. That might result in a few motorcades making endless circles. That might annoy the dignitaries he was going to meet and result in some kinda war or at least a boycott of the regional berries.

I never did understand people thinking they have an effect over some televised sporting event played over 2000 miles away. If Ohio State scored while Mom was on a bathroom break, she, being a huge OSU fan, would rush to powder her nose every time they threw a pass into the end zone or attempted a field goal. Geez, I think she was surprised that the coach never personally called her to either thank her for her efforts in the win or chastise her for not flushing enough as it had to be fault that #84 fumbled at the 3 yard line.

One time I was playing in a golf tournament and in my rush to make my tee time, I had put on mis-matched socks. They were both white but the trim was blue on one foot and pink on the other. It didn’t bother me as I don’t really swing the club with my socks and I went on to win my match. Mom was SURE my victory belonged to Etonic, the sock manufacturer. From then on, every golf match I played in the next 23 years, I wore socks that didn’t match. (at least I had another pair of them at home if they got wet!). Of course, that made no sense at all as I would lose more than I won. But Mom theorized that could then be blamed on the fact that my opponent must have had a fresher rabbit foot or some other lucky charm and that I didn’t believe enough in my socks.

I must say that on occasion, we did have company arrive from the direction that my fork pointed when it fell off the table. And maybe once in a great wile,my nose itched and I kissed a fool. Now and then,it turned out that just at the moment when my ears were burning (from being out in the sun too long), my Aunt Margaret Mary had been talking about me (how I should let boys beat me at ping pong or I’d never find a man).

Ok, so yesterday I sang a little ditty before breakfast and I happened to see a sad movie later and cried like a newborn.
And I wore matching socks when I played shuffleboard and lost 27 games in a row....
Hmmm..maybe there IS something to this superstition stuff. Today I am off to buy a four-leaf clover and a horseshoe. If I see a black cat on the way to Walmart, I’ll reverse directions and go to K-Mart.

Life is about balance ~ but not for me

If one can teach an elephant to balance on a ball, why can't I balance my check book?

(Off topic - If we can send men to walk around on the moon, why can't the Reds learn to hold on to their National division lead?..or why can't we have lint-less dryers that don't eat socks?...or...
see, I always wanted to start a statement with "If we can send a man to the moon, why can't we...blah, blah, blah"...I'm over it now)

ok, back "on-topic"

If the reknown artists and truly admired talented individuals of the world had lived a balanced life nothing truly great would be created...well, that's according to my be-it-ever-so-humble-there's-no-place-like-home opinion.

It seems as though we strive to live a "balanced" life..a little work, a little entertainment, a little hobby, a little house cleaning, a little shopping...but if we tilt just a bit in any of those areas, we are labeled with a negative name..maybe it's "shopaholic" or "workaholic" or a "party-person" or a "couch potato" or "home-body".

If Mike Angelo hadn't had a passion to paint chapels constantly...morning, noon and night, would we know his name today? Maybe Harold Pumpkin would have been the artist's name that would be known in history for painting on his back.
Do you think Mr. Angelo's Mom told him he should balance his life with a little extra-curricular activity? Maybe he could take up line dancing, or take the garbage out a little more often or milk a few more cows to balance his existence?

How about Tommy Edison? If he had lead a balanced life, I might be blogging in the dark...hey! Maybe computers wouldn't exist! (whoops, I forgot, Al Gore invented them along with the internet)

My point (yes, I have one) is that maybe an unbalanced life isn't all that bad sometimes.
Maybe a passion for something can monopolize one's time and it's ok.

Maybe it's all right to go completely tunnel vision and take 15 days in a row to work on one projcct and barely come up for air until it's done.

Maybe sometimes we need to play like a kid for a longer period of time than society thinks is "appropriate"...

or maybe we simply do absolutely nothing for a while..because we need to.

and maybe I want to blog longer than the "commonly acceptable" 300-500 words and go no where in particular with my ramblings.

Ah, heck...I have never been known for my balanced life OR checkbook. Why the heck start now? And you know what? I'm not guilty...(by reason of...)

I gotta go now. I'm still trying to figure out the motivation of why that elephant does that balancing trick on the ball.

Does anyone think he's really enjoying attempting that balancing act?

Kids Having A Ball....we should learn from them

Have you waltzed through the toy section at Walmart lately?
I can't believe the jammed aisles and aisles of various toys, games and weapons.
And I won't even set foot in a store like "Toys 'R Us". Too many of these so-called "toys" resemble grown-up items of necessity. The kid lawn mowers can cut the grass closer than my 28 year old blade push mower. The miniature Betty Crocker ovens cook roasts faster than my 18 year-old microwave. The "fake-toy" machine guns and artillery wouldn't be allowed within 200 yards of downtown Detroit yet our little darlings look like theey are "packin' heat" in the name of fun.

The intricate toys that kids have to keep them occupied is so CRAZY! Just one of these child-distractors need more batteries than all 8 of my TV remotes and 12 clocks put together! I was 51 years old before I knew which end the batteries went into my flashlights the correct way. Now my 5 yr-old nephew can manage a phillips screw driver and can change every size batteries for the all residents of his electronic toy-chest with the deftness of the head mechanic on Bobby Rahal's pit crew.

Recently my baby-sitting prowess was called into action ~ watching my 1 yr-old and 5 yr-old nephews. They have more of the afore-mentioned toys than 2 aisles of K-Mart so I knew my job would be easy. Of course we all know that once children get bored
with their stash of toys, we can always rely on those Disney video tapes, right?
WRONG. After playing with 3 race tracks, 12 super heroes and watching 5 minutes of four different cartoon shows, I heard the two little words we all dread -
"I'm bored".

I decided to bring out the secret weapon...a BALL!
BINGO! For roughly 4 hours and 22 minutes, we played about 185 made-up games with the same ball. We rolled it everywhere, we bounced it off nearly every object within 2 miles,
We threw it, tossed it and juggled it until there was practically no more air in it.
When I stop to think about all the various balls that we still play with as adults, it makes sense that this is the one item that will withstand the test of a kid's attention...(don't we revere our spheres ~ golf balls, basketballs, raquet-balls, whiffle balls, baseballs, bowling balls, tennis balls, soccer balls, mothballs, footballs, bocci balls, handballs, ping-pong balls, meatballs, volleyballs, softballs, ~ well, I think you get the idea)

We are all kids at heart. But I actually think I was the one who had the most fun that day.

I guess out of self-preservation, our super hero toy-makers ignore how fun the simplicity of a ball is. I suppose we could find a way to need batteries in them.

I know one thing...the phrase "Having a ball" has taken on new meaning.

Big Sister Is Watching You!

Have you ever felt like you could do nothing right?
Like no matter where you go...or what you say, someone is there to correct you?
I gave a store clerk a dollar too much and as she returned it, I thought, "Oh, she must think I'm stupid".

I had to call my computer server company to figure out a problem that I perceived to be HUGE, only to learn that the solution was be so embarrassingly simple, a 5 year old could have figured it out. So simple, in fact, that I am sure he told 345 of his fellow-workers about the blond-haired dummy on that last phone call.
(hmmm..maybe that's better than the grey-haired old biddy?)

I accidentally used the tablespoon measurement for a teaspoon measurement of sugar in a delicate recipe and I was sure that the Martha Stuart police would discover and put me under "house arrest"...(since Martha kinda knows about such things).

Oh, how I wish I were a kid again with no responsibilities. Or, wait...do I?

I'm having a flashback of my mean grown-up neighbors across the street. When I was young they constantly were criticizing and yelling at their kids every day for things that they also did sometimes "accidentally".

I think I'll go have a cool-aid and count the worms on the sidewalk....enjoy a few minutes of the day and then return to accidentally switching checks and envelopes to two creditors. I may end up with a library of unwanted Crafts and AutoWorld journals since my house payment went to $19.00 magazine subscription bill.

"Shell" shocked

I had s scrambled egg for breakfast. I couldn't finish it even though it was joined by bits of bacon and potato and chives.
Why did I feel guilty about eating an egg?
I feel like maybe a Mother Hen is clucking herself a new feather over losing the best egg of her crate.
Do you think they get attached to their young shell creatures like regular sparrows do?

We recently observed a Mother bird of some kind (I can't tell the difference between a robin and a batman...er, I mean, a finch)....sitting on top of her eggs in a nest that would make Donald Trump's best New York high rise look flimsy. Imagine how much time she took to bring one branch, one mouthful of dirt, one piece of straw from the neighbors new garden hat...one at a time over days and days...to build this estate for the nurturing of her offsprings. She then patiently sits on the eggs until the birdlings decide they are ready to meet the world.
Then the Mother guards them fiercely like they are Liz Taylor's diamonds...but sometimes she flies away for a short time to..uh..to go bird bowling, or maybe instead of a pedicure she gets a "beak-acure" (who knows what the heck she does)..but then her male mate comes in for his "shift". He stands guard as deligently as the Mom does...only he is carrying a pack of tiny cigars to give out at the first sign of the babies "cracking open".

It really is fascinating to see the caring and protection that members of the animal kingdom do naturally. Our natural instinct is to want them to go elsewhere so we don't catch the fantasy bird flu.

Maybe I am over-thinking this egg-eating dilema...I obviously had no problem eating other living creatures. Maybe I'll think about it over lunch...hmmm..guess I'll avoid "Chik-a-filet"..but probably just for today.

The Waiting Room Blues

Don't you get nervous when someone starts out a sentence by saying, "I don't mean to complain but..."? You just KNOW that the next 20 minutes is not going to be fun and games.
Maybe in my case of describing my latest uncomfortable experience, it would be better if I just charged right to the point and said, "I hate waiting rooms at Doctors offices!"
I recently took my niece, Annie and her new-born to the infant's first pediatrician appointment. The Doctor's office asked them to arrive 30 minutes early to complete "new patient" paperwork. We had to leave at 6:45 a.m. (yes, as in MORNING)for a 7:45 appointment. This made no sense to me since her other two children are already patients. Wouldn't it be reasonable that the only change on their records is the name of the new little darling they are going to coo over?
O.K. So, we arrive bleary-eyed at our scheduled time. The waiting room is as big as a grade school cafeteria as they have 5 different specialties here. There were nine windows from which to choose to check in. Above two of them signs hung reading, Happy 1 and Happy 2. Of course, no one was at those windows. (It actually reminded me of a race track's betting windows but that's another story).

Annie returns from checking in with only ONE page with THREE highlighted areas to be completed. It took her all of about 45 seconds ~ and only THAT LONG because I interrupted her 4 times to grouse about coming in 30 minutes early for that!??!

We only waited 10 minutes past her appointed time before she was called back to the Doctor's office. I breathed a premature sigh of relief thinking that surely they would return in 15 minutes and I can go home and go back to bed. After all, we HAD to be one of the first appointments at 7:45 a.m. and how long can one take to look over an 8 pound baby?

OVER AN HOUR later I have counted all 92 seats in the waiting room. I have watched (TEN times) the 12" TV that kept a 4-minute video loop playing a boring narrative about the wonderful medical facilities that we were lucky enough to enjoy.
I have read through all of the six tattered magazines that were lying around. I was lucky in that one Reader's Digest was only 5 months old. Three of the magazines were totally written in Spanish and I almost flunked that launguage in high school. I can only remember "Ciera la boca" (shut the mouth).
I did read a Mechanics Made Easy magazine that was published in 1998 that described how I could have fixed the problem I had with my 1997 Chevy that I sold a eight years ago.
Finally, just as I had finished playing my 15th game of solitaire in the children's area (with a deck of 34 cards), Annie comes out carrying her little Parker Elisabeth Murphy, followed by the Doctor, himself. He apologized to me personally for taking so long but he had never seen such a beautiful baby. He had to show her off to all the other patients and then ushered her over to the personnel of the neighboring departments. As he continued to gush over her he looked up at me, then paused and looked down at Parker...then looked back at me and observed, "Actually, she has your beautiful eyes. You can tell that you are related!"

I just sighed...and with a tear in my eye I said,
"and you have a perfectly wonderful waiting room."

Happy Birthday Sean!

Happy Birthday to my nephew, Sean Michael Murphy ~
age...let's just say mid-30's.
He has done quite well for himself.
He has a good job where he is in the minority of people who "make a difference".
He has a bride who he picked out special for me so I could have a sister/daughter/best friend.

He managed to sire 3 of the cutest children this side of fantasy island.
He made my dreams come true by moving 7 minutes from the house (although the house next door with the pool would have been just a tad bit better).
He has a sense of humor that on a good day, Letterman wishes he had.
(I didn't say WHICH Letterman!)
He has a golf stroke that on his best day, couldn't beat me at Putt-Putt.

"They" say we should all love our relatives. That's easy...but sometimes the "liking" our relatives is the hard part.
But I also LIKE this one enormously!
Happy Birthday, Sean!

The Youngest Graduation

Yup..that's my great-nephew Griffin receiving his first of many (we pray) diplomas.
He was more interested in not losing his tassle than anything else.
They celebrated and sang and whooped it up like it was their college commencement..not their pre-school graduation!

The pomp and circumstance included everything but having V-P Cheney deliver remarks.
I think they all went out after the ceremony and celebrated with libations..root beer ~ and hopefully the next day they didn't have a hangover.
Of course, they had to be in bed by 8 p.m.



Strange night when they introduced this class of 2019.
Somehow it made me feel older than my years.