Thursday, August 30, 2012

Open House

Twenty years ago when we moved to Kansas we rented a townhouse.  Coming from the D.C./Maryland area, the idea of actually buying a home was absurd.  It didn't take long for us to figure out that here in the heartland, home ownership was a real possibility.

The Big Daddy was all about scouting out a new homestead, and so we'd map out the Sunday open houses, pack up the kids and snoop in other people's lives.

We argued a lot in these open houses.  The Big Daddy, enamored with the bells and whistles, and me not so much.  I'm not hauling groceries up a flight of stairs to a kitchen that some idiot put on the second floor.  Another time we were in a house with gold-flocked wallpaper on the entire first floor and when I said I'd seen enough he told me I was being too negative.  When we got to the backyard with the above-ground swimming pool coated in algae, we both barfed a little in our mouth.

On the way home from one of our shopping trips we passed an Open House sign in a neighborhood we weren't familiar with.  We stopped anyhow and oh, how we could see ourselves living in those digs with the wide open downstairs "great room" that the kids were already running around in.

We likeyed that place.

When we inquired about the price it was $450,000.00.  Hmmmm.......that's several hundred thousand dollars more than we intended to spend.

The realtor nodded knowingly and wished us well as she pointed us and our sweaty kids to the proper exit.

She stood in the doorway and watched us pull away in our Oldsmobile Firenza, and I bet it was the faux wood paneling on the side of our station wagon that was a dead giveaway that we had stumbled into the wrong neighborhood.

New Favorite

"How long til my soul gets it right?"   

Maybe not so long.

Or an eternity.

My new favorite video and I found it without kid intervention.   

I got that right ;)

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

The Teacher Girl

When Maggie was little, she liked to play school.  As is often the case with the bossy first-born, she was always the teacher.  She'd gather her brother and kids from down the street into the basement to educate them, and why they put up with it every day when they'd already spent all day in school is beyond me.

When she went to college, she decided to go into journalism with hopes of being the next Katie Couric.  When the greeter at Costco told her that her smile was so pretty she should be on t.v., that sealed the deal.  After one semester, she decided to change to media relations.  Her father said, "Oh, so when a company recalls a drug that makes people sicker instead of better, you'll be writing the bullshit to make it look like they weren't really in it for the money?"  They may have sealed the deal on that major being short-lived.

Her second year of college, she listened to the universe and became an education major.  

She is now a 3rd year teacher and at 25 years old, she's worked harder than I have my entire life.  She chose to work in the inner-city and this is her second year as an ELL (English language learner) teacher.  Throughout the week she works with every kid in the school whose home language is not English, the goal being to fast-track these kids ability to learn.  It is daunting.

This year her student population has gone from 60 to 100.

One teacher.  One part-time aide.  Lunch on the fly.

While her father and I have instilled social justice and awareness in all of our kids, this bossy first-born has walked the walk, and all those years of playing school in the basement was a precursor for the seismic shift she would make in the lives of hopeful families.

Sunday, August 26, 2012

The Reverend

My favorite priesty friend came blowing into town last weekend, and geez, he's like a light in the dark.  While higher-up Catholics are all about the uterus, he's about loving your neighbor.

Go figure.

These past two years he's been in South America and he sees more than his share of despair every single day.  His homily was about food and the lack, thereof.  In his world there's no such thing as not finishing your plate in contrast to here where people think little of dumping half of it in the garbage.  Perhaps, when we eat, he said, we can do so with gratitude, and be ever so mindful that many, many others aren't so fortunate.  Food, literally, for thought.

When the after-party was winding down, some of us were outside and he started talking about heaven.  How upon our arrival he thinks Jesus sits us down and says, "I don't know what the hell you were thinking when you said that.  I mean c'mon.  I gave you a brain, but you sure didn't use it that time.  And what about the time you did that?  That's the thanks I get for giving you this life?"

And when you've listened to him bitch about you and point out all your screwups, you can say, "JESUS, what were you thinking?  Seriously, the lesson bullshit wore my ass out.  Here's an could have made things a little easier once in awhile."   

Jesus would mull this over and say, "Well, you might have a point.  Maybe I did go a little overboard with the power thing.  C'mon in and take a load off."

Admittance that's based on an honest conversation, and hopefully, my favorite priesty friend's line of work gives him some insider information.

Thursday, August 23, 2012

Oh Taylor

Before Mallie Bee went off to school, we were in the car and a Taylor Swift song came on.  Oh Lordie, I really can't take her.   After the song, they were talking about how she writes her own stuff and wow, really?  She might consider turning that over to somebody who's interesting.

When a new song of hers comes out, the internet is buzzing over what boyfriend did her wrong that she had to write about, but does anybody care?

Every time I hear Bonnie Raitt sing "I Can't Make You Love Me" it kills me.  When I hear Taylor Swift sing anything I want to kill the radio.

She's young, attractive and wealthy, but talented?  Meh.  If I were this chick I'd sue for theft of character................

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

The Bus Stop

The first time I ever rode a bus was when I would visit my Grandma.  She didn't drive and counted on the bus to take her everywhere.  She let me sit by the window so I could watch the scenery, and when it was time to pull the cord to ring for our stop I had the honor.

For a few years before I started taking the train, I was a daily bus rider from the suburbs into Chicago.  My friend, Pat, got on about a mile before me and would save me a seat in the back.  Every morning we had the same driver whose job it was to get his riders into the city and to our jobs.  If the expressway was a hot backed-up mess, somebody up front would pass the hat to pay the tolls so our driver could take the Skyway and get us downtown faster.  He wasn't supposed to do this, but he did.

The bus was full of interesting characters.  There was the guy that Pat and I went to school with who was an epileptic.  He was working at a bakery making donuts when he had a seizure and burnt both his hands so badly in the hot oil for making donuts that they had to be amputated.  Another guy watched people sleep and if your head started bobbing, he'd straighten it out for you.  The pervy old guy who checked the girls out every morning.  It didn't occur to us that we were better than these people.   We were just trying to get to work.

Mark and I were discussing the disconnect in society these days, the lack of empathy for the less thans, and even outright disdain.

That didn't happen on the bus.  We all paid the same fare, we all had someplace to get to, and when the hat was passed it didn't matter how much money you threw in so long as we all got where we needed to be on time.

On those occasions when weather wreaked havoc on the buses for the return trip, sometimes you would run into a rider from your morning bus and things would seem better........for making your way home in the dark during a storm can be frightening, but isn't that what we're all trying to do every day? 

Source: via John on

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

You're Hired

As if the universe couldn't have timed this any better, I started working this week.  I had an interview more than a month ago for a place I previously worked at that is opening a second store.  I think I've become an expert on interviews and if I ever wrote a book it would be about that.

Kathleen, tell us a little something about yourself.  Well, first off, I'm questioning whether applying for this job was a good idea.

What about ________________ interested you?  It was the only legitimate listing on Craigslist in the last week.

How do you handle criticism?  Isn't there some sort of honeymoon period before we jump to that?

What do you expect to get paid for this job?  Trick question.  Not playing.

I'm approaching shift #3 of the week and have already been on the hunt for new-standing-all-days shoes.  Next week I'll have twice as many hours.  I'm not sure how much I'll be writing given my new working life, however, I'm a frequent mind wanderer and an-in-my-head-story-writer........which I intend to keep on the down low from my new employer.  

At least until they bust me.

Monday, August 20, 2012

Burquas & Bat-Shit Crazies

A couple of weeks ago, I looked up the campaign website for Claire McCaskill.  She does not represent my state, but the Missouri border is a mere five miles from my house.  Since Kansas is a lost cause for electing smart representatives, I thought I'd volunteer for one even if I couldn't cast a vote for one.  I have always liked Claire, but millions of dollars were being spent to defeat her and keeping her Senate seat was not going to be easy

Up until Sunday.  That's when Todd Akin handed her a present when he said that we women have some heebie-jeebie magic up our girl parts that can expel rape semen and prevent pregnancy.  Who actually wrote a check to this idiot?

Later on Sunday, it was reported that my representative in Kansas was on a trip to Israel with other members of Congress when he got himself likkered up and swam nekked in the Sea of Galilee.   Not for very long, he said, as if that makes it any more professional behavior.

The last few years have been a constant attack on women and in one weekend we've seen some sterling examples of what dumbing down the vote gets you.  In more upbeat news, Condoleeza Rice became the first woman invited to be a member of Augusta National.

A barrier was broken and the chairman of the club said, "It is a joyous occasion."

They were only ninety years late to the party, but kudos for finally succumbing to that pesky suffrage movement and joining the rest of the country.

By the way, your newest member raised the I.Q. of the entire club just by walking in the door.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

This Ain't My First Rodeo

On Friday morning, we arrived on the Campus of Higher Learning and Mallie Bee's new home.  Since this is my third time moving a freshman into a dorm room, I know what to expect.

We loaded the car the night before and it seemed to me that it was the smallest load we'd ever had.  From what I remember of Time #1 and Time #2, the car was packed, with barely enough room to cram in the student who was expected to arrive with all this stuff.  BD, don't forget to leave space for the kid.

Move-in day, despite the best of intentions or planning by the higher-ups, is always a cluster and we spent 45 minutes creeping inch by inch to the dorm entrance.  Two lines to make it go faster?  Nope, and chatting it up with campus security during the process found him in agreement, "Ma'am, they don't ask me my opinion, but I'll be damned if that wouldn't make a whole lot more sense." 

Directly ahead of us was a family with a U-Haul.

A U-haul.

It took them twenty minutes to unload their rented trailer and Target must have met their daily sales goal every time they walked down the back-to-school aisle.  It just kept coming with a shoutout to Costco for the cases of bottled water, snacks, Gatorade and Propel, toilet paper and paper towels.  Then they took pictures of it.  The crammed U-Haul, the pile on the curb waiting for the volunteers to load it up, the student with the pile, Mom and student with the pile, brother and student with the pile, Auntie and Grandma and student with the pile, and then finally the empty U-Haul.

I. Was. Losing. It. 

When we finally reached The Promised Land we had our car unloaded and out of the way in five minutes.  Five.

We forgot a few things, but Mallie Bee's a smart one and she'll figure it out, make do, borrow or get it next time she's home.

The broom and ironing board that the U-Haul family brought?  Will never be touched.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Video Friday

Today is move-in day for the Beester.  The Big Daddy is out of town and Nathan has oh so kindly offered to help us haul stuff up to her dorm room.  Last night, he and Maggie came by and he told us how he started bawling on his move-in day of freshman year and "it turned into a shit show."

The new son-in-law is a perfect family fit.

One of the many things I will miss about not having the kids around is the videos and music they show me.  I feel like it keeps me hip to the youngins.  Except nobody hip would say that.

Mallie Bee told me about this one.  Blogworthy, she said, you'll like it.

Yes, Beester,  I do love this video.  Now go off and meet new people, expand your mind and your world, call home once a week and make good choices.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012


When my cousin, Kerri, was thirteen years old she passed away.  On Thanksgiving Day she was at my Mom and Dad's house, and after our big turkey dinner I sat and talked to her.  She was much younger than I was so we weren't especially close but I remember that talk.

The next day she went into cardiac arrest and was airlifted to Childrens' Memorial in Chicago.  She remained there until her death in February.  At one point, the doctors told her parents that the best they could do was manage her symptoms as they had no idea what was causing her to continually go into cardiac arrest.

That was when anorexia was just becoming known.  She was teeny tiny for her age so they sent in a psychiatrist to talk to her.  She would have no part of it and would turn her head away from the doctor when she would come in to discuss it.  From the doctor's viewpoint, this only confirmed that she had been starving herself to death.

An autopsy revealed that she had Freidrich's Itaxia which attacks and weakens the muscles around the heart.  Her funeral was so, so sad and when it was over my siblings and I all came back to my parents house.  Mom and Dad went into their bedroom and closed the door.  They had been incredibly strong for my aunt and uncle through the months of Kerri's illness and death and not once had I seen them cry.

All these years later, I think they came home from that cemetery, closed the door and sobbed.  My dad emerged awhile later and said to all of us sitting at the table, "I don't ever want to hear one of you kids go to a funeral and tell someone to call if they need anything.  Somebody they loved just died.  Their life has been turned upside down and it's not up to them to pick up the phone to ask for help.  It's up to us to pay attention and figure out what they need."   Then he walked back into the bedroom and shut the door. 

I never forgot those words of his.  He meant them and he expected his kids to heed them.

Kerri was so pretty.  Her eyes were big blue saucers and she had the longest lashes I'd ever seen.  Even in the hospital hooked up to a dozen machines, she smiled and whispered and her eyes shone.

She needed so much that was out of the grasp of all of us those many months in the ICU, but if I could have done anything for her it would have been to tell that psychiatrist to leave our girl alone.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Play It Again

I've posted this song once before.  I love it.  I could listen to it over and over and over.  Well, I have actually.  Mallie Bee introduced us to this song when she did her first solo to it, and all I can say about that is.............oh my, that girl dances with her whole heart.

The Teacher Girl is starting her school year off on very shaky ground........over a hundred ELL kids and her only aide is on medical leave for cancer.  She's had a long week complete with a shoe getting flung at her and somebody else I've come to admire has had a long year.

May it get better.


Monday, August 13, 2012

Dr. Will

The Boy Child took a psychology class last semester and we have all been on the receiving end of his knowledge.  He told his sister that evidence shows that if you live with your significant other prior to marriage you are more likely to divorce.

She might have told him to mind his own beeswax.  Or buttwax.

This did not deter Dr. Will in matters of his family's emotional health.

When he was taking me to pick up my car from the shop he said, "Big changes are coming for you and Dad, huh Mama?"   Yes, they are.

"How do you feel about that?"  I don't really know yet.

"Well, you should know that this is a period of upswing in your marriage."  Really?

"Yeah, you have the good times when you're first married, then the raising kids years that aren't so good for your marriage.  Now with an empty nest you will be going back to the good times."  The honeymoon years so to speak.

"Yep, that's it.  Good times.  You and Dad."  

Well, now...........that's a dog that just might hunt.

Sunday, August 12, 2012

God Save The Queen

We have been addicted to the Olympics.  We usually are, but this year especially so, and Kansas City is ranked #2 in the country for most watched viewers.  What better way to spend a couple of weeks than admiring athletes whose training and dedication combined with power, skill and speed exceed us in every way. 

We had a boy who lived on our block who was Will's best friend.  His forearms were about half their normal size causing multiple problems especially with his hands.  Everything from unwrapping a popsicle to writing was difficult for him, but his parents raised him as if there was no difference between him and his brother.  They moved many years ago, and every now and then he will show up at our door and the house rejoices at a Kevin sighting.

When he was in 4th grade he had to fill out a get-to-know-you paper on the 1st day of school.  The person he'd most like to be when he grew up?  His friend, Will Fisher.  His teacher had Will the year before and called to tell me that in twenty years of passing that paper out, no kid had ever put another student's name as an answer to that question.

They were the best of buds and ran the street like little hoodlums.  His parents taught him that nothing he wanted to do was off limits.  His friend taught him how to pee outside so precious play time during summer breaks and after school wasn't wasted in the house. 

Here's to overcoming the odds............and getting by with a little help from our friends.

Source: via Kristen on Pinterest

Thursday, August 9, 2012

Keep Your Head Up

Sunday is the day The Boy Child packs up his summer and moves back to the bustling metropolis of Manhattan, Kansas.  The Little Apple, although it bears absolutely no resemblance to the big one.  He will be a senior and good Lord, that went fast.  His focus this year will be finishing with a bang, and hopefully work, talent and luck will get him a design job when he's done.

Next Friday, Mallie Bee moves into her dorm to start pursuing her passion for dance full-time.  Based on her siblings before her, four years from now we will wonder again at how the years have flown.

On Saturday, Mark and I will start a different stage of our life without the daily presence of kids.  The tick of days has been slow through most of those years, and then we blinked and each of them were flinging themselves out the door in a burst of energy and excitement.

I am thrilled and thankful that they have the opportunity to go to college when equally talented and passionate kids do not through no fault of their own.  I tell my kids that all the time.  You have no idea how lucky you are.

But this house that was too small for so many years will feel rather empty without their smiling faces around.

We could all use a little of this as we adjust to the changes before us.................

Especially me.

Wednesday, August 8, 2012


Being a retail girl for awhile now, I've seen plenty of shoplifting or evidence thereof.  One time when I was working, two women came in to shop for Christmas gifts.  I talked to them for a few minutes and thought I understood that they needed to stay within a reasonable budget.  I pointed out some popular items that were a good price and one of the women immediately went to a table of very expensive sweaters.  Those will run you a bit more, I said, about $300.00.  She looked at me and said, "Do you think I can't afford these?"  I was so taken aback, so flustered and embarrassed that I had misunderstood her that I apologized and told my coworker I'd be in the back room for a minute.  As I was coming back those two were running out the door with $2000.00 worth of leather coats.

I was set up.  Masterfully.

My niece works for a large chain of women's clothing that I bet you've been to many times.  They are ripped off constantly, including the shoplifters who try to return what they've stolen for cash.  Mom would be so proud, ladies.  She told story after story of blatant shoplifting that even after years of working retail stunned me.

Like the store I worked for when the leather coats were stolen, you cannot accuse, confront or chase after a shoplifter.  You don't know if they have a gun is what the managers will tell you and nobody's life is worth it.  And if you know they have all your leather coats you watch them run out the door. 

While I agree with that, the rest of us are paying to keep women who you wouldn't guess in a million years of being shoplifters in some mighty fine threads.  As we're handing over payment at the register for our stuff, they're in the dressing room cutting off security tags and shoving the stuff they like into a tote bag.

I worked for a small clothing boutique for a couple of years until they closed.  Two teenagers came in and tried on some dresses and then left them in a heap on the dressing room floor.  When one of the salespeople went to clean it out, a $300.00 dress was missing and she grabbed her cell phone and went looking for them in the shopping center.  She spotted them in the drugstore and kept an eye on them while she called the police. 

When the cops showed up she had them take a look at their backpacks, and there was the shoplifted dress along with some makeup from the drugstore.  As the cops hauled them away she yelled after them to never come in her store again.

It wasn't really HER store, but we all felt ownership for this place we loved to work, and were willing to put up a fight to keep people from walking out the door with whatever they want.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012


When Mallie Bee was just a wee one, her and her friend spent five summers doing synchronized swimming at the local pool.  For $90.00 you could get somebody to Wear. Your. Kid. Out. Every. Morning.  I knew where to spend my bucks.

That's when I discovered how grueling a sport it is.  Practice every morning and it doesn't matter the temperature.  Pointing the toes.  Treading water.  Holding your breath and then holding it some more.  Sucking in water and spitting it out.  And don't forget to smile when you pop out of the water so people think it's fun.

The grand finale of the season was The Big Show on a Sunday summer's eve with lights, music, an announcer and a snack bar.  It's a big deal here in Mayberry.

When it was her last year, we decided to indulge in some pre-show gin and tonics with our neighbors.  The Big Daddy had three, and by the time the show started it was all I could do to keep him from falling off his lawn chair.

After the final routine and thunderous applause from the crowd, there was usually some thank you speeches, but that year there was a commotion on the pool deck.  Oh dear, I think somebody got sick.  The Big Daddy tried to get up to see, but whoa Nellie, he was feeling those gin and tonics.  The Boy Child said, "I think it was Mal.  Yeah, Mom, I'm pretty sure she was the barfer."    

No, no, it's not her.  It can't be her.  Of all these girls here, it cannot possibly be her.

He would not stop laughing and The Big Daddy sat in his lawn chair yammering about The Milky Way and I was steeeeressed.

When it was all over our little mermaid came and got us.  We congratulated her on a great show and she said, "Did you guys see me puke when I got out of the pool?"

Synchronized swimming may look pretty, but when The Hillbillies decide to come out and give it a try you've got yourself a shit show.

Monday, August 6, 2012

Big Money

You may have noticed there are some ads on my sidebar.  This is something I've gone back and forth on forever because I don't really like how they look, but I would like to make some money doing this.  I was reading some tips from a very successful blogger and she said nobody read her blog until she had a posting that went viral.  Since she had AdSense she was able to make some decent money from all those hits, so I have heeded her advice.

When I posted my piece about Chick-Fil-A, what should come up on my ads but that damn chicken place.  Meh.  I spent all morning trying to figure out how to get it off and hence, there will not be any fast food ads pop up because they have been successfully blocked.  Sorry, Taco Bell, I still heart thee.

August is an expensive month, this year especially so, but now I can make a contribution to the cause.  Last month I made $9.57 which sure beats the $7.63 I made on profit sharing from my last job.   

Hello spirals.  And not the fancy ones, kids.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Olympic Women

I have watched the Olympics in marathon sessions.  I watch the big events at night and the not so big ones during the day.  Fencing?  I have no idea what it means to win or lose, but I spent an hour trying to figure it out while I folded laundry.  The Big Daddy and I talk every night about how RIPPED these athletes are and oh, if only we could have a little of that.  Back in the day I might have been a contender.  Or not...............

Swimming/Water Polo
The Queen Mum is terrified of the water and she was determined that her girls would not follow in her footsteps.  My sister and I were in beginning swim  For. Six. Years.  All you had to do to move up was to swim across the pool, but neither one of us could do it.  I finally passed when I was thirteen.  The week before, my top came off and all the six year olds that I was swimming with stared at my budding breasts.  That may have been motivating.

In high school swimming class we had to tread water for five minutes.  My gym buddy and I made our way to the side and every time the teacher wasn't looking we'd hang onto the edge.  We got busted and had to do five more minutes.  I used the extra time to plan my funeral and take my mind off my impending death by treading.

My friend said that I looked like a little chicken when I ran up and down the court.  The gym teacher overheard and that was the day I was named "Peeps."  Three days of gym class.  Four years.  Peeps.

I didn't like being in front of the net where a spiked ball might hit a short girl like me in the head.  I preferred to serve, but then I would get a flaming red mark on my forearm.  I excused myself from that sport with a note I wrote from my mom for severe menstrual cramps.

Track & Field
The same friend that I cheated with in treading water said that when the gym teacher was working with the long jump girls you could walk around the hurdles instead of actually jumping over them.  This preserved your energy for later in the day when you had study hall and could get a pass to the parking lot to go smoke a ciggy.

I don't even know what this one is, but once I unloaded the dishwasher while I was breastfeeding.

I played on a team in my 20s that was supposed to be just for fun.  There is no such thing among softball players.  I ended up being the catcher because I could only throw the ball as far as the pitcher's mound.  On a bounce.  I didn't get asked back the following year because "they were going in a different direction."

I only ran when my brothers were trying to kill me and if I had to do it now I would need a Depends. 

My sister and I went horseback riding once when we were Girl Scouts.  She screamed the whole time, "HELP!  HELP!  HELP ME!!!!  PLEEEEEEZ!!!  THIS  HORSE WON'T STOP!!!!!!!!  I found that if you stood while the horse was galloping it wasn't so bad, and if you happened to have sharted in your Official Girl Scout underpants it was a win-win strategy.

I am not, nor have never been capable of, making the top half of my body do something different than the bottom half.  If you ever saw me in the way, way, way back of a Jazzercise class you would know this.  Or you would be calling 9-1-1 to report a seizure.

One time, I borrowed my brother's car (without his permission) and ended up backing into a gas pump.  When I came home and told my sister she said, "Holy shit.  You're in big trouble."  I chased her out of our bedroom with a pair of scissors and ripped the hood off her coat, but I didn't punch her in the face because I am opposed to violence.

All these days and nights of watching these fit women has inspired me to crank up my exercise regime.  Besides taking my elderly dog on a slow, slow walk in the morning, I've added Jillian Michael's 30-Day Shred.  I have done four days of it and believe you me..................It. Is. Hard.

And that's without the weights.

Thursday, August 2, 2012


I was at a party last month and deep in conversation with a friend.  As we were leaving she remarked that she admired Mark and I and thought we were brave.

Brave???  I'm terrified of the dentist, heights, merging traffic, runny eggs, any envelope from the state, crickets, yeast, the Visa bill, pain that lasts longer than ten minutes...........

I had to turn around and ask her what she meant.

"You guys put yourself out there and go for it."

Oh, so that's how it looks to somebody else.  Be it writing or biking or whatever else we pursue, we may have lost some of our fear, but I'd hardly call that brave.   If we were to fall flat on our face in any of these endeavors it would not be but for the thousandth time, and lookie here, we're both still standing.

This week I took Mallie Bee to the pediatrician..  The doctor's kids and mine went to school together and she is one of my favorite people.  I had heard she was working a retail job on the side and asked her about it.  "Oh yes," she said, "I love it.  It's always been something I've wanted to do."  A doctor selling handbags?

"Next," she said, "I'm going to try waitressing.  I've already talked to somebody who's willing to show me the ropes."  A doctor waiting tables?

Mallie Bee got some advice on her beat-up feet and I got a booster shot of the failure immunization.  It was a good day to be amongst the doctor and the dancer................

The ones who stuck their toe outside the box and changed the way they thought about everything.

Wednesday, August 1, 2012


When Chick-Fil-A came to our area, I had no idea what it was and even pronounced it wrong.  Chick-Filla.  There was a lot of buzz about the place, so I went there and then I really didn't get it.  I pitched half of it in the dog's bowl and never went back.

The owner has recently declared that the wrath of God will descend upon us Americans for our evolving stance on gay marriage, and while you're free to voice your opinion about anything, it's not exactly the best business strategy.  In his case, he didn't have to do damage control because when you're speaking for the Lord what can you possibly damage?

Wednesday was the day that like-minded people lined up for hours to support his business and his stance on this issue.  As an anonymous gay employee of a Chick-Fil-A in Atlanta said, "It's Hate Appreciation Day."  In the you're-wrong-I'm-right-you're-liberal-I'm-conservative world we live in, it got covered by the news complete with helicopter shots of the throngs of people waiting in line.

What a cross in life it must be to bear to be threatened by people who are in your family, your church, your neighborhood, your school, your hospital, your grocery store and your military.  What a cross in life it must be to bear to give up half your day, fight traffic, stand in the heat and spend money to support somebody you've never met but is as God-fearing as you.


That's a big commitment for something so utterly craptastic.