laughoutloudmom

Diet Dog

2009-02-17T11:21:00.000-08:00

I rarely go to Wal-Mart. Not because I don't want to, but because the closest one is thirty miles from my house. So yesterday, I was so excited when I was in the area, had twenty-two dollars in my pocket and could rush over and fill a cart or two with bargains. I'm walking in the shampoo aisle (maybe that should have clued me in) and stumbled across one of my favorite things--a new box of "100 calorie" snacks. Reaching for the colorful box, I stoped suddenly gasping outloud. It said "doggy treats." I'm not kidding. They were 100 calorie DOG TREATS!!! I laughed so hard I'm sure they were calling security, but really, isn't that a scream? I fished in my purse for my cell phone to hurry up and call the only friend I have who owns a dog, but the silly thing had a dead battery. So I couldn't tell anyone. I think it's funny anyway. Kind of reminds me of the time I was in a Caracus grocery store and tossed into my cart what I thought was tuna--but then noticed the only english on the label saying "The happy cat." Two close calls in one lifetime. Hmm. I wonder how much weight I would lose.....nah.

The Fan Club

2009-02-06T09:24:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I really wonder what kind of sense of humor God has. Take this week. I am simply trying to get a pair of curtains on the curtainless window of my office up. Not hard for most women I suppose, but me? I might as well be trying to get a job as a temporary fill in for Nasa. I am not curtain-smart. I walked into Target and looked at the curtain stuff aisle. I had written down my measurements before I left and knew the window was 70 inches across. I kept looking at my paper and looking at the strange rods in the aisle. What did it all mean? Did each one come with the bolty stuff that went in the wall? The drill to drill it? A little man to put them up? I walked out with nothing but my scrap of paper even more confused. Then there's the matter of the hood fan. My hood fan in my kitchen hasn't worked for over ....ah...maybe three years. I just kind of wave the air above the frying pan and hope my arms get thinner. Hasn't worked, so I went to a small mom and pop appliance store and ordered what the worker "Henry" said I needed. Week after week went by and Henry never called to say my new fan was in. Finally I gave up after two months. Off I went to Home Depot and met a new worker named "Emma." She said she knew exactly what I needed but before she could place the order I had to know what kind of venting the fan had--round or rectangle. Henry never asked that. I had no idea. Three weeks later I finally get back over to Home Depot with the info that I had a retangle opening. Emma said I'd need a "boot" for that. I have no idea what that is or who to get to put this huge thing in, but I have a feeling this is not going to go well. I wonder if really--when it's all said and done--I'll just keep waving the fried hamberger fumes in the air and call it good. As my previous post kinda touched on, I'm not very good at the little stresses in life. I really admire people who are. I wonder if it's a gift I'll never get to open. I know one thing--it sure would be a surprise! Happy Valentine's Day to all in celebration of love and hope. I am so grateful for the people in my life who love me, and I'm going to keep working on not getting bogged down with the little stuff!!!

God's positioning system

2009-01-12T11:32:00.000-08:00

Well, I bought myself something I've wanted to try for a long time--a GPS unit for my car. Even though I've lived in this city my whole life, I could have a second career getting lost. I was so excited to hook it up on the dash yesterday and head down the freeway for my 40 mile journey to a place where I'd never been before. I wasn't even nervous becasue, after all, GPS was there to hold my hand--or at least my dashboard. Anyway, I was all set to make my next left turn and poof--nothing. My little familiar voice was gone. The thing just abruptly shut off for no reason. Needless to say I missed my turn into the parking lot of the mega church I was trying to find and ended up going about 10 miles out of my way fuming every minute. I just didn't get it. "Why me?" thoughts were chasing around my head and I just got more and more agitated every minute. Where was my receipt? Would the store take it back, since it was bought online? I was unsettled and pouting the whole time I tried to hear the speaker I had gone to so much trouble to find. Until it dawned on me. I am selfish, unappreciative and missing the whole point to my day. Here I was sitting in a church listening to a 31 year old woman who had been aborted. That's right, she survived a saline abortion her 17 year old birth mother had tried to get when she was 7 1/2 months pregnant in an LA abortion clinic. My eyes teared up as it dawned on me how selfish I was. What right did I have to complain about life's little stresses when this brave woman, who also suffered from cerebal palsy told her story of hope and forgiveness. She loved God, and forgave her birth mother and was only full of gratitude for her life. Oh boy. I need a new heart in this New Year, and I'm glad I heard her speak. She has an amazing story you can see for yourself at Giannajessen.com. She's real. She lives. And thank goodness I'm never really lost as a child of God--on the road, or safely back home.

Taking a bite out of crime

2008-12-07T19:55:00.000-08:00

This is the week I went to "war" for kids I don't even know. Turns out our school district has a policy of making kids wash lunch tables if their parents don't have their lunch accounts up to date. These are middle school kids--ages 11-14. You know...minors! I couldn't believe it was true so I called our disctrict superintendants office and found out it was. The way they put it, they are offering "the choice...or opportunity" for the kids to have a lunch if they can't charge a hot lunch anymore. The choice is...clean tables or starve. Some choice. In my opinion, adults are responsible for feeding kids, and kids don't deserve to be humiliated in front of their peers. So I went to a communty meeting and complianed. I called my local school board. I called Washington DC. And you know what? It felt great! I'm not sure if it will end this practice, but I do know one thing--this is one mom who will not give up until children are protected. In the meantime--I hope everyone will inquire and find out if this is going on in your school district, and if it is---complain!!! Kids deserve to eat, and parents need to deal with the lunch accounts. It's time to get rid of the bullies on the playground and in the cafeteria.

You're Elected to Call

2008-11-09T15:09:00.000-08:00

Five years ago I suffered the biggest loss of my life—my mom died. Somehow I functioned through the necessary tasks involved with the packing up, travel arrangements, burial and even a four year old’s birthday party the next day at Chuck E. Cheese. What I remember the most was the silence of the empty days when I was alone. Days when I longed for just one phone call from a friend. They didn’t have to have any answers or great wisdom or abilities to take my pain away. That wasn’t possible. I just needed them to call. Some did. Many didn’t. The cards helped and I cherish them today. But what my soul really longed for was a voice. People often say they don’t call friends who have suffered a death because they don’t know what to say. I can relate to that. My neighbor committed suicide a few years ago and although her husband and two children lived only four houses down from me I never knocked on their door. I told myself it was because I didn’t want them to think people were gossiping about the way she died, or make them uncomfortable about the fact we knew it was suicide. But really—I was taking the easy way out. Until last summer. The family held a garage sale and I walked right up to her beautiful fourteen year old daughter sitting by a coffee can of change and wrapped my arms around her and told her how much I appreciated her mother. How if it wasn’t for her mom I wouldn’t have any teeth (she was my dental hygienist sometimes). It felt so good to finally say it.

Which brings me to this election. Millions of Americans got their way. Millions didn’t. What group are you in? For me it was a great loss. The death of a dream in a way. I have friends who no doubt were joyful and jubilant over the outcome. They received good news. I received a knock out blow. Even though my Obama friends knew I had to be in terrible pain last Wednesday they never called. Maybe they think I should have called them with my congratulations—like the losing team of a tennis match. Except-- this is not a game. This is life and death. My mind can’t help going to the story of two mothers of very ill children in a hospital featured in a magazine recently. Both children needed a heart transplant but only one was available. The surgery team had to choose which child got to receive it. They made their decision. One set of parents got wonderful news—their child would live. One set of parents got devastating news—their child would die. Should the parents of the child who was chosen for the transplant skip out of the hospital and go celebrate without a thought or a word to the other family?

I know there are people who still say they don’t know what to say to a friend who is suffering from these election results. Well, let me help you. How about this:

“I’m so sorry you’re hurting. Hang in there.”

There. Was that so hard? Oh, and keep the script. Your day will come too you know. And I’ll be there for you.

An open letter to the people of Pennsylvania

2008-10-24T15:53:00.000-07:00

I'm writing to you today, as Archbald is on my mind after hearing Pennsylvania discussed so much in the upcoming election. The newscasters all seem to say "What will the people of Pennsylvania do? Who will they vote to send to the White House?" I don't understand their confusion. I don't understand how they could have any doubt as to the intentions of the faithful citizens of your state. As a resident of Oregon--one of the most atheistic states in the nation--I was overjoyed to walk into a cafe on your Main street and see photos of the sacred heart of Jesus prominently displayed. The love of our savior in Archbald is unashamedly part of the very fabric of who you are. I only hope my children will one day get to visit and experience your rare example.

Please pray for the people of Oregon. They are in darkness and will no doubt vote to give our precious five electoral votes to a man who walks with abortionists, terrorists, Marxists, and people who hate our flag. A man who vows to keep killing children--unborn, and newly born. May Almighty God have mercy on our land!

I know the prayers of the good people of Archbald and Scranton are stronger than the enemy. I know truth and light will win in the end. But with your hearts and love for Jesus, the rest of the country may just get one more chance on earth we don't deserve...a President who loves God and His word.

Thank you so much for your beautiful state. I am with you in spirit as we hold hands across the nation on our knees for life.

Let's Ask God

2008-10-06T14:51:00.000-07:00

I have a great idea for rigging the election this year and I'm not afraid to use it. It dawned on me that we as humans can only do so much to persuade people to vote for the person we think ought to be the next President. I've protested, gabbed on the phone, worn buttons, done monologues on my talk show and left campaign cards in un-suspecting restrooms. (That last tactic might not be the best). All in all, I've done the human part. Now it's time to pull out all the stops and do the God part. Yes, I believe in God and I believe He's everything He says He is. I believe He loves America and will give us His divine protection again...even though we don't deserve it. So what's my plan? Well, when I run into people I know are going to vote for the rotten guy---yes, I do mean that... I have a new tactic. Here's what I tell them: Let's let God decide. Let's pray that God will bless and give divine intervention to elect the candidate HE KNOWS is best for America. How can we lose then? Everybody is happy because they are all thinking God will help their person. Of course, He won't. God hates the shedding of innocent blood and the blood of 50 million dead unborn children is crying out for justice. If we're lucky enough to get His blessing He will help the person who has a good heart. Who truly hears His word. I'm pretty sure I know who that is. And his running mate wears really cute red shoes. Just like for Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, those red shoes are going to take us home to safety with God's mercy. But just in case...I'm leaving a few brochures in the ladies room one last time. Just to help out.

Frozen in time

2008-09-15T11:33:00.001-07:00

I just had dinner with a snowflake. Her name is Hannah, she's a perky nine year old blonde little girl with a huge smile and a courageous spirit. Hannah is the world's first adopted "snowflake" baby. This means, her mom adopted her as a frozen embryo along with 18 of her frozen embryo brothers and sisters. Sadly, her siblings didn't survive the process but Hannah did, and she was on my TV talk show to tell the world how glad she is to be here. She proudly wore a t-shirt that says "A person's a person no matter how small." She sure has a right to wear that shirt! I'm so grateful I got the chance to meet this beautiful little girl and her mom and only wish others could have been there to experience their love and hope for all the other frozen embryos who need to be adopted and loved by someone. It saddens me to read that the American Diabetes Association thinks these precious souls are no more than spare body parts to be experimented on. Adult stem cells have offered over 70 cures of horrible diseases and don't require any human life to be taken. If embryonic stem cells offered such great promise, then why aren't private investors flocking to them, since it's always been legal to experiment on them? Nope, it's been a failed, morally bankrupt path and now they want the taxpayers to pick up the tab for more. No way. Please pray for Hannah as she bravely tells her story to the press, and please pray for all the frozen children waiting to be held in the loving arms of people who will love and care for them.

Pop goes the eardrum

2008-06-21T14:53:00.000-07:00

It's so fun to feel grateful. We were on the plane about to land flying from Portland to Phoenix and Kelley, the nine year old started grabbing her ears and was crying in intense pain. We thought we had been so prepared and bought gum, but it was those tiny pieces of sugarless and it just wasn't helping a bit. A nice woman behind us reached her hand around my seat and offered a huge roll of bubble gum. I gratefully tore off a piece about three feet long and helped my screaming daughter stuff her mouth with the grape flavored strips. Instant relief. So you'd think we'd know better on our next flight a few days later to San Diego, right? Here we were again on the descent and the screaming started, and we only had given her that dumb little gum purchased from the overpriced giftshop hours before the flight. A few minutes of hearing her cries and again there's a hand around my aisle seat---this time a gentlemen was offering packets of gummy worms. Again...instant bliss. Her poor little ears---and ours---were spared again. Twice I was stupidly unprepared to help my daughter, and twice absolute strangers saved the day. Good grief--to think I'm the mom of six and this was my youngest, there really is no excuse. I'm so grateful to these kind people and will now always try to carry supplies for my kids and others on every plane ride. Isn't it great to witness the kindness of strangers? ! I can't wait to pass it on.

Falling off the Bridge

2008-05-12T08:39:00.000-07:00

I am absolutely flabergasted at Parade magazine. In their May 4, 2008 issue on page 26 under "Parade Picks" they have a suggestion for a great Mother's Day DVD to buy. The opening line is "Every mom--and most dads--fell for The Bridges of Madison County, a beautiful love story..." HAVE THEY LOST THEIR MINDS?!!! "The Bridges of Madison County" is about an Iowa housewife who cheats on her husband with a traveling photographer, while her husband takes their kids to the state fair. He demonstrates nothing but kindness to her, and the movie shows him being a great dad---not that an affair would be justified if he wasn't. And make no mistake about it, Parade is calling the affair the beautiful love story, not the loving acts of her husband--oh no--wouldn't want to praise that. The very idea that Parade thinks this is a great idea to hand a mother on Mother's Day adds even more insult to injury. This is the most disgusting show of disdain for marriage I have ever seen in this magazine and is an insult to all married couples---even, heaven forbid---ones who occasionally find married life "boring." Parade may have thought moms and dads "fell for The Bridges" but it sounds to me like the writers over at Parade are the ones who fell offf the bridge on this one. Let's let Parade know we don't think too much of their "pick" for moms at parade.com. Scroll to the bottom and click on "contact us" and please let them know what you think. I'd say a well worded printed apology to married couples is in order!

Make mine polka dot

2008-05-10T07:27:00.000-07:00

There they go again...these people on HGTV walk into a house they're looking at at exclaim with relief "Oh yeah, that's great, the kitchen has hardwoods, stainless and granite counter tops." I just don't get it. I went to a private girls high school where we wore uniforms and yearned for those occasional "free dress days" where we could go wild with our wardrobe selections--well, as long as you didn't hike up your skirt to your waistband--but the point was, we liked to be different after looking like everybody else all week. Now it seems like some "principal" has declared that all kitchens wear the same uniform, and the public is buying it--literally! Just for once, I'd like Mr. and Mrs. first time homebuyer to walk into that kitchen and say "You know, I was really hoping for leopard print formica countertops, can we get some of those? Or, maybe some good old fashioned vinyl floors, that actually are made to take pitchers of orange juice your toddler spills at 9pm and you don't discover till the next morning. I guess I'm just too old for this mass trance of remodeling. I've seen too much. It really wasn't that long ago we were looking for our first house and the fancy schmanchy homeowners all ran out to update with---textured almond appliances with pouffy window "treatments" in country blue and mauve. Yep, I'm holding on to my fix-it-up dollars and waiting till this all passes and we see what the next kitchen "uniform" looks like. Personally--I'm really counting on the leopard look to be the one.

packing up

2008-05-02T15:00:00.000-07:00

I walked out to get into my car parked in the driveway today and noticed I did it again...forgot to lock it up! I'm just so glad nobody broke into it. A couple of years back someone actually did and it was a terrible feeling. Makes me realize how lucky I am in that regard. When I was on tour with Holiday on Ice we were playing Prague and four of us were sharing a room and someone broke in during the night while we were sleeping. We can't believe that nobody woke up but we know they were there, because stuff was taken that had been laying on the dresser, etc. It was such a creepy feeling. Then, a few years later, I was staying with some dancer friends at an apartment in West Hollywood and the same thing happened. They had come in through a window over the sink--they have these alley way things, so a thief can really kind of hide. Anyway, my entire purse had been dumped out right next to my bed. My cash was taken, but my credit cards were still there. To think someone was standing right over me two times while I slept really makes me wonder if it's such a good thing to be a sound sleeper. I guess I really believe the old saying, when it's your time it's your time and when it's not, it's not. Maybe that's why when Gary is out of town I check and re-check the doors over and over. I also don't like candles very well, which may have something to do with the fact that I caught on fire when I was four! Oh, the traumas of life. Well, it only burned my slip and my poor mother put it out with her hands and we were fine. But still...I can pass by a candle shop oh so quickly...
Today it's sunny out (well at least for Oregon) and I'm escaping to the coast for a conference and the speaker is Carol Kent--she has such a great message of hope, I can't wait! Oh dear...the dryer stopped--- I'd better get packing....and I get to interview her too! What fun!

The Door is Open

2008-03-12T16:28:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it--I looked out my front window and there it was, staring back at me like an angry neon sign. My neighbor painted his front door fire engine red. It's not that I have anything against red on a front door, but his house is PEACH COLORED. Ahhhhh! I can't stop looking at it and wondering how to not notice anymore. Should I say something? He's a thirty something bachelor who has a steady girlfriend who I think may be the real culprit in this adventure. The only time I spoke to him was to say "thanks" as he dropped a Snickers bar into my daughter's Halloween trick or treat bag. I guess that doesn't really count as knowing someone. My kitchen window faces that silly door too, and no matter how hard I try I can't see anything else across the street as I'm scrubbing pots and pans. As if that weren't enough torture! Hmmm, in the mean time I'm going to "keep on mushing." My other neighbor (who has a reasonably colored front door) recently brought me a ziplock bag full of white squishy stuff that she said was Amish friendship bread starter. Day after day I have to "mush it" on my kitchen counter. I'm wondering if I'm going to like it when it gets done and who else I should give some to. Maybe I should make a deal with "Mr. Red Door! "

Ouch!

2008-03-03T09:11:00.001-08:00

My right foot hurts. Now this may seem like a weird thing to say, but to me it's significant. In the "old days" my foot would hurt for a reason. I would say things like "My foot hurts because I hurt it skiing, at the ice rink, during dance class, etc." Now, it just hurts for no reason. I find this really upsetting. It must mean I'm getting old, and I worry about that. For instance, will cute sandals start to make my feet ache and I'll suddenly turn to orthopedic lace ups? Will I limp around a dance floor at the next wedding I attend not able to finish the whole song without collapsing into my padded chair and panting into the poppyseed cake? What does this mean? And why is it only my right foot? Hasn't my left one logged as many miles around the mounds of laundry, dirty dishes, and grocery check out lines? And, to tell the truth I have another upsetting discovery. My right finger hurts sometimes. The one we called "pointer" when playing "Where is thumpkin?" during my preschoolers circle time. Now I'm really worried. What if my whole right side goes out at once? How will I exist? Can I get a "right side" transplant? Is anybody doing research on this? I think I'd better hurry up and use my "right brain" abilities to solve this problem while I still can. In fact, I think I hear it telling me to hurry up and go skiing!

Movin On Up

2008-01-04T20:47:00.000-08:00

I swore it would never happen to me. After all, I was the daughter of a car dealer and should know better. But circumstances happen and poof there I was doing what nobody should ever do—buy a car under desperate circumstances.

It all started when my neighbor Teri and I were in my 1990 Mazda MPV van on a rainy afternoon thirty miles from home on December 22nd and the car quit in the middle of the road. No warning. We got out and pushed it into a nearby parking lot with the help of a nice guy who stopped by. It was the transmission of course. Unfortunately, Santa did not have an extra $1400 in my stocking for the repair bill, but we went ahead and replaced it anyway.

Four days later our “good” car the 96 Oldsmobile starting acting worse than usual and that transmission went out. My father in law was visiting from Phoenix and he and my husband said the dreaded words: "You must buy a car…NOW!"

At the nearby car lot I looked and looked and finally test drove a 2000 Acura with only 43,000 miles on it. It was the same price as the newer used cars that had a lot more miles on them, so I thought “why not?” Wow. Talk about the luxury life. Leather heated seats and all. I talked them down on price and up on the trade in and signed about three thousand documents in blood. I think I feel okay about this, but I did learn something in the process for next time.

Go home and look up the model’s history on the internet. I found out this car has massive transmission problems and a recall. Not a good thing.

Ask for a warranty period to return the car for any reason if you aren’t happy and have it put in writing. My salesman said I had a 90 day return period, but I have nothing in writing, so I have NOTHING.

Look for details. I have no owners manual and no floor mats. Seems like little things, but if I would have asked for them during negotiation, chances are I would have gotten them.

And now? Well, the lower drivers seat doesn’t heat up, and I found out it could cost as much as $395.00 to fix. Because I didn’t discover it on the night I bought it, I’m again…out of luck. I called the dealership and asked the sales manager if they would consider doing it anyway and he said he’d get back to me today. Except he didn’t. Maybe tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m trying to be positive and just love my new used car and not worry too much. But really, the daughter of a car dealer should know better, right? Buyer beware!!

Looking back

2007-11-27T09:03:00.000-08:00

I can't believe it. Kelley and I were almost run over yesterday morning. The bus comes at 7:55 am and somehow I just can't get used to that, and I keep thinking it comes at 8, so we just stood there, coats on and everything in the kitchen, as it rolls by. If we reeeeeeealy hurried we could race to the top of the street and catch it on it's way out of the neighborhood. So we ran. I had on a bright red raincoat, and as we're approaching a driveway, our neighbor backs out and almost hits us. I think he looked back once, but I'm not sure. Thank goodness we jumped out of the way in time, and even caught the bus, but it really scared me. It made me start looking at the way cars are designed and I notice that so many cars have those head rests across the back seats. How many adults are actually hauling around other adults or tall children that need those head rests? Can they be removed? For sure, they have to be blocking people's ability to see behind them, and for what? Back in the olden days when I was a new driver, cars never had those. I'm also frustrated, being a rather short person, at how much the car manufacturers are raising the level of the back window. Have you noticed that? How can anybody see out back there? I think I'll try and do some research on how many accidents there have been from backing into people. This is such a safety issue, and if a tall guy can miss seeing an adult in a bright red raincoat, what about a child's chances of being seen? Another crusade!

Kelley quote after we attended a Christmas concert: "Mom, why do we have to stand up during the 'Holiday-loo-ya" Chorus?

A teabag for wisdom

2007-11-15T09:16:00.000-08:00

Thomas had his wisdom teeth out in his junior year of college. Or, I guess I should say, wisdom tooth. Turns out the kid only has one. After his appointment, instead of driving back to the dorm, we insisted he come home to rest so we could take care of him. After a few hours he had used up the entire supply of gauze the dentist gave him, but the incision just wouldn’t stop bleeding. Thomas got up from the couch and brought me the “emergency instructions” paper and pointed to the part that said to put a teabag on the spot. “See Thomas, aren’t you glad your mother is here” I said, bolting to the kitchen. “I bet you and your friends in the dorm are out of tea.” I’m not sure if it was the packed gauze in his mouth, but he didn’t answer. Of course, it didn’t specify whether or not they meant dry-- right out of the box tea bags, or a wet, used tea bag. I was carefully pondering this when Thomas finally snatched it out of my hand and stuck it in his mouth evidently not noticing the long string with the paper tag at the end that said “Lipton.” “Hang on, honey” I helpfully urged, rummaging in the junk drawer to find a scissors, ‘I’ll cut that right off for you.” Not finding anything but old pens, dead batteries and a kazoo, I motioned for my toothless victim to follow me around the house while I looked some more. Thomas obediently tagged along in his drug induced stupor , with the tag swinging under his chin, while I continued to search in vain. Finally I had an idea. I pulled him into the kitchen, opened up the knife drawer and grabbed the only clean utensil in sight… a 12 inch serrated turkey slicer. “Hold still! ” I warned as I sawed back and forth dangerously close to his lips. It was at that moment I realized something profound. Normal people don’t do things like this.

Hey everyone, for a great movie idea please go support Bella if it's playing in your town. My daughter's college in San Diego is connected to the wonderful young people who made this life-affirming film. It's changing lives and hearts everyday! Let's show Hollywood we want something decent for a change!

Just when you thought you'd heard it all.....

2007-11-01T09:08:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it...the lead story on the news last night was that fake teeth from China were being recalled. I'm serious. So, yank those puppies out of your mouth this instant and get to the return counter before it's too late, that is if sucking on all those Chinese made toys hasn't done you in already!

Why I'm not shopping "pink" this year...

Is there any grocery item, wheelbarrow, lunchbox or set of tires that has not been wrapped in pink this month to remind us to be "aware" of breast cancer? Don't get me wrong...I am very interested in finding a cure, as both my mother and grandmother had the disease. It's just that I don't trust the Susan G. Koman foundation to do it. Last time I checked their website, they are still choosing to not mention the studies that prove a huge risk factor for breast cancer...abortion. Don't believe me? Check out this great website: abortionbreastcancer.com. Maybe if I "run for the cure" they ought to "run for the truth." Millions of women deserve to know.

Do you speak cable?

I'm still smiling over what happened yesterday. I finally picked up the 800 number, waded through 200 voice mail commands telling me my call was being recorded, and ordered cable TV. Nothing fancy though...just the sub-low-nobody watches this stuff--bare bones basic. I had to. My show is on one of the public access channels and I really need to see how much that 8lbs. I gained in Florida shows up. I host a life-affirming (translation: pro-life) show called "Woman 2 Woman" and I have had a great time showcasing really fun topics. In October we did "Down Syndrome Awareness Month" because October...well, IS. What an amazing group of moms and daughters we had as well as a theatre troup! It's so fulfilling to be able to honor our brothers and sisters with different abilities and share the message that every person has dignity and value and let's all be reminded to support and love those parents out there who take up the challenge to say "yes" to life!!! Anyway, back to the cable...so the guy says "Sorry, it won't work, because your remote won't get me to the menu." Huh? Let's just say my technical ability wouldn't even compare to those fighting over swings on the playground, but even I surprised myself. I said "Couldn't you just run it through the VCR?" Silence. But, you know what scares me? I mean, if we techno-impaired women have to do all the thinking for these so-called professionals, where is it going to end? Can you see this in your surgery some day? Doctor: "I'm sorry, you're going to die. I just can't repair that valve." Patient: (on operating table) "Well, okay but couldn't you just run a line through that other organ over there?" Scary.

Speaking of Florida... I don't know why, but my friend Janet (see former blog) really likes me and wanted me to be a delegate for the presidential debate she hosted in Fort Lauderdale in September. This was really cool because not only did I get to get away from the kid and dinner duties for three days, I got to wear high heels and pearls. It just seemed so Presidential. Anyway, I understand thousands of people across America had been praying and fasting for the results of this debate, so that we would have a clear--- make no mistake about it--- person to rally behind for President. In other words, Janet wanted God's choice to be revealed. Pretty heavy stuff I thought, but "why not?" One by one we filed into the Broward Center for the Performing arts and were handed an electronic voting device. None of us really had any particular favorite going in. The door was wide open. But, whoa, baby did that change. When the results were tallied, we all sat there in total shock to see what we'd done. In what can only be described as a LANDSLIDE we had overwhelmingly voted for MIKE HUCKABEE. All the months of prayer and fasting had given us what we had prayed for---an unmistakable clear answer and person to get behind. I wouldn't have believed it if Ihadn't seen it for myself. You can hear all about it if you go to Janet Folger's radio show at F2a.org. I even got interviewed on her October 19th show! It's an experience I will never forget...especially since on Monday night after the debate everyone in the hotel (including the candidates) were awakened at 3am with a fire alarm. I was on the ninth floor and the candidates on the 11th. Somewhere on the stairwell are my glasses that I never did find, and now I'm getting by with dorky ones from the dollar store, but you know what? It was worth it!! I'm not kidding....this guy is amazing. So, don't forget...you heard it here first!!!

An Attitude Of Gratitude

2007-09-25T11:40:00.000-07:00

I feel so lucky today. Wanna know why? I was just thinking about the fact that I know some amazing women. Three women have come into my life that can do something I think is pretty incredible. Let me draw you a picture. Well, not really because I flunked art. Anyway, pretend you're in a big crowd...say an auditorium full of people. All of the people in the audience have their eyes on an empty stage... just waiting. Let's say the show or the performer they came to see had to cancel at the last minute. And let's say the place is packed and it's standing room only. What would happen? (My mind goes to strange places sometimes...bear with me here) Okay, now...know anyone that you could tap on the shoulder and say "Hey, would you please get up there and entertain these people?...and they could?" Well, I do! Really. Pam Young, Janet Folger and Leigh Anne Jasheway Bryant are three people that not only could walk on stage at a moments notice and entertain 20,000 people, they would actually be better than what the crowd came to see in the first place. I'm not kidding! In a week of "Take your dictator to school day" and zero talent people forced on us at every channel I really have to honor the true gifts these women have in entertaining, encouraging and informing. Gifts I've been so lucky to be inspired by. I've been in Pam's organization class when women laughed so hard they complained their jaws hurt. I've watched Janet's quick wit crack up hundreds of University students where security guards were ordered before her visit. I've watched Leigh Anne take the mic in front of huge crowds after teaching a comedy or writing class, and calmly ask if there were any questions...never knowing what someone may ask and being able to pop off a hilarious answer...every time!!! So maybe they aren't going to cure cancer, end wars or solve the obesity epidemic. Then again...who knows? I just thank God that I have had the honor of calling these special women my friends. They are an inspiration to all they meet and I'm so honored and grateful to know them. So Pam, Janet and Leigh Anne...thank you. You rock!

Why I Have Hope For America

2007-08-17T18:12:00.000-07:00

Last week I entered a contest answering the question, "Why Do I Have Hope For America?" It made me start thinking about what's important and what means the most to me. Here are my thoughts:

Last month I visited my oldest daughter in Branson, Missouri where she was skating in an ice show at Silver Dollar City Theme Park. The theater held about 1200 people and I slipped into the second row to watch the show. The finale number was skated to Lee Greenwood’s “Proud to be an American” a song I was so grateful to hear again. At one point in the number the skaters all formed a line across the front of the ice and turned with their backs to the audience raising their arms to the sky. Immediately, two gigantic American flags unfurled on the set. At that moment…without hesitation…1200 people rose from their seats and cheered. Show after show, day after day it never changed. It is an experience I will never forget. After a few weeks the park management had to install a carpet strip between the ice and the front row for the skaters to stand on because so many members of the audience wanted to hug them and shake their hands to thank them. So they did. The people of Branson are really no different than anywhere else. I believe people everywhere know in their hearts what’s important…what’s real. They just need to be reminded. I'm so glad I was.

The Friendly Skies Just Got A Little Warmer...

2007-07-26T14:39:00.000-07:00

It happened at the Denver airport. I had just spent a wonderful week visiting my daughter in Branson, Missouri. My flight was really late leaving the airport in Springfield, which didn't seem to rattle anyone around me which I thought was kind of odd...I mean, it was way past the scheduled boarding time and there was no airline employee in sight, no sign, and no plane. I kind of thought there should be a plane. When I started asking some fellow passengers what they thought was happening, the lady next to me just sighed and said something like "It's Missouri" and looked back down at her magazine. So, needless to say the flight was very late getting into Denver where I had exactly one hour to change planes for the flight home. On the way to Springfield one hour had been more than enough time to spot a deli near gate 65 with a huge piece of cheesecake. I was drooling at the thought of my plastic fork digging in and could hardly wait. Only...lightning was now keeping our cozy jet from touching down and it was getting dangerously close to boarding time for my flight. Finally landing, the flight attendant asked everyone to let us connecting fools off first, and I really didn't mean to step on that man's head on the armrest, but it was the last flight home and I HAD to make it. I sprinted past the glassed in cheesecake, and ran like something out of that outdated OJ commercial where he jumps over suitcases and was panting to the gate, gratefully find it still boarding. Only I HAD to use the restroom first, which I did and then rushed on board...but... where was my black sweater? The one I had on a second ago...the one that was part of my favorite sweater set? I hesitantly asked the question. Could I run out and see if I left it on the chairs? They said "hurry." But no luck. I thanked the nice gate agent, Teresa, who really, honestly looked like she cared. If fact, she even asked me to leave my phone number with her, just in case she found my sweater. So I did. But really, it was gone and I knew it. People don't find lost items in this world anymore. At least that's what I still thought as I heard the mailman deliver something big and bulky into the box on the side of our front door. I didn't recognize the return name and address and quickly tore open the padded envelope to find my beautiful black sweater. Alongside it was just a simple business card that said "Teresa Redman...United Airlines." No fanfare. No glory. Just a simple act of kindness for a weary mom. So thank you United. And thank you Teresa. You've resored my faith in the world and busy airports with lightning storms. Now, if I could just locate some of that cheesecake...!

Where Are You Big Bird?

2007-06-30T22:41:00.000-07:00

It was a good thing I wasn't really hungry. We had an 11am appointment to take dad to an assisted living place for a tour and then they ushered us into the large dining room for "dinner." What is it about these places that believe old people want to eat "dinner" at noon? Actually, my dad would rather eat "dinner" at eight. After the cocktail hour. But, I guess those days are kind of over. At 84 he's lost driving, living alone and eating when he wants to. Kind of lost the cocktail hour too, but that's a different story. A sort of shy looking girl came by with a cart and asked if we'd like salad. "Do you have any diet dressing?" I inquired. Hey, it was worth a shot. Actually, she handed me a packet of fat free ranch, and I was happy, but I did kind of wonder, how older people with arthiritis would open it. Then came another girl with a cart, this time with little plastic glasses of liquid in them. I couldn't help but think they looked like the pretend dishes my youngest daughters used when they played with their dolls. Pretend this is real. Pretend you're in your own home. Pretend you're not drinking out of tiny plastic doll glasses. We got to choose between apple juice, milk or....really I'm not kidding (I was going to say making this up, but that's so Dave Barry)...prune juice. I asked if they had coffee, and thank goodness they did, and I gratefully turned over the china mug in front of me and let her pour. Sigh. What in the world is the main course going to be? I didn't have to wait long. Chow Mein or Meatballs. The chow mein looked....well...interesting. I said "meat balls please." So did dad. My sister Cathi chose the Chinese option, but looking over at her plate, I don't think she touched it. Dad hardly ate a bite, but I suppose he was kind of nervous being in a new place and all. He did eat the bread pudding dessert though. Good move on their part. Bread pudding. Dad loves that. We looked at the room and it really was great, and had sliding glass doors to a tiny patio and an area where we could put chairs for him to sit outside. He'd like that. Then we had "the meeting." The one where they ask you all the questions, and you hope you answer correctly so your loved one "passes" the test. That's when it became kind of...well...funny. I know it wasn't supposed to be. Really, I was trying to be good. It's just that, the head lady...what was her name?...well, I can't remember...but she was sitting across this big mahogony desk and asking us all these questions and that's when I asked her about times the residents have to be home, like if there was a certain "curfew" or something. Anyway, she smiles. Looks straight at me and says: Okay now I really can't resist because it sooooo fits....And I'm not making this up...."This isn't a facility...we want you to think of this as your neighborhood..." Well, I want you to know , right then and there, as the mother of six kids, who has made it through 23 years of "Sesame Street" my mind wandered immediately to the themesong of that show...you mom's out there know which one I mean..."We are the People in your neighborhood....in your neighborhood...." Oh dear. Not a good plan. I started to laugh. Not just a little giggle... no way... a real, out loud...LAUGH. Right there, in the office of this...some kind of important, old people place person's office. "Your Neighborhood?" This place was going to be my dad's "Neighborhood?" Oh dear. They totally didn't know why I was laughing. And now really...did I? It's just that it was kind of one of those "What's it all about Alfie?" kind of moments when you wonder: "Does life do a complete turnaround, from pre-schooler to the elderly? Are we all going to living in a "Sesame Street" neighborhood in our 80's? Are we doomed to drink out of doll sized plastic glasses?" All I know is I think the important lady behind the desk found an extra room for me at this place...with padded walls. But that's okay...as long as I get my own patio, unlimited coffee...and "Oscar The Grouch" brings chocolate!

We've Been Talking To Your Neighbors......

2007-06-12T13:01:00.001-07:00

I can't believe it just happened again. There's a loud knock at the front door, and I race upstairs like I always do, assuming it's someone I know, or actually want to talk to. Or maybe the muscle bound electric company workers wanting me to move my car again. But, no. It's two overly cheerful guys with clipboards and the same ole familiar phrase. "We have some appointments with your neighbors this week and we're..."
"Stop!!" I interrupted. "Let me guess.Windows?"

They actually looked surprised. How did I know? Well, maybe because it's like ...the FIFTH time this month I've had the same visitors. Well, not actually the same exact visitors, but guys with clipboards, wanting to give me quotes on new windows, and who ALL reported having appointments with my neighbors. What I don't get is WHY they aren't over at these neighbors if they have so many appointments with them? Is our street on some kind of crazy internet list out there, advertising homes with the shabbiest looking windows? Is there some kind of statistic that says the tenth time you knock and talk the owner will finally cave and sign up for $20,000 in tempered glass and frames? I don't get it. Why do these guys think "We've been talking to your neighbors" is a persuasive sales technique? Maybe I should have asked them to point out "which neighbors?" Was it the one who had the political sign out for the guy I thought was sleaze-ball nut case? Or maybe the one who starts his diesel truck every Saturday morning at 5am? Yeah. I shoulda asked. Hmm, maybe I should actually consider this a little more. Who knows....with better windows, I could see even more of what's going on out there in the neighborhood, or at least spot the next two guys peddling something with clipboards...in time to hide.

Passing The Test

2007-05-31T08:00:00.000-07:00

Today is the day the people with the rubber hoses rule my life. My 1996 Oldsmobile (our newest car) flunked the DEQ (department of air quality) test set up by our friendly government. After several new parts on visa and wads of cash paid out to our mechanic, it still...didn't pass. Today is it. The last day we can legally drive the thing. Maddening part is..it drives FINE. Always starts. Sure the driver's side window no longer goes up or down, and the dash board rattles when you drive over 40, but who's picky? Owen our trusty mechanic and loyal friend replaced one more worn out hose and did everything his hand held computer told him was wrong with the silly thing. Now we just have to try again and pray. My question is, what do people do in this situation that have only one car? What if that car is the only one they have to get to work, and it runs fine but will not pass? They have two choices. Lose their jobs, or drive illegally. What kind of a choice is that? I'll admit it makes me want to go right out and buy a new car. Well, at least one that has less than 100,000 miles on it. That's really new to us. Trouble is the ads for those kinds of cars are worrying me. Here's a sample from the list I found yesterday:

Only needs one head gasket
A little hard to steer when turning left...
Smokes sometimes when you take off from sitting at an idel for a bit.
Car has a "rod knock" but the rest of the car is in real good shape.

Guess I'd better make sure the Oldsmobile passes. I'm driving right over there this morning. Don't worry I won't resort to trying to bribe a government official or anything. Although, there is a Krispy Kreme donut shop nearby....

That's My Story, and I'm Stickin To It!

2007-05-22T11:09:00.000-07:00

Today is one of those days I'm not sure how to define. Happy? Sad? Or just wondering how it all works. I've had such an incredible high. Trouble is...I'm not sure what's next. I am so incredibly grateful for the blessing. I won the Erma Bombeck Humorwriter's Award. Me. It was just a year ago I sat in that big ballroom at the writer's conference in Dayton, Ohio honoring Erma. I looked around at all of those people who had been "published" and wondered if I would ever get there. Wondered how disiplined they were, how many degrees they had, what they ate for breakfast. Stuff like that. I still can't believe it. And the best part is, I won with a story about my mom. That's so cool. It feels like, even in death, she's helping me. She's still connecting. I knew she'd find a way. She was that kind of mom. But what now? What is God telling me to do next? I tried working on some stories today, but I found out something. Writing is hard, brain splitting work. I treasure the days the words just come pouring out of my head, like when the kids flood a bowl of lettuce with ranch salad dressing that overflows and seeps between the crack in the table and drips down to the floor. That kind. It's hard to sit at the keyboard and not think about our blue oldsmobile that won't start because maybe it needs a new alternator, but the mechanic isn't sure, which is after we already put $300 into it, and it still wouldn't pass DEQ and what are we gonna do because we only have till the end of the month before the plates expire, and then the good car the Mazda...the 17 year old van, was boiling over last Saturday when I returned home from a two hour drive on the freeway. Well anyway...it's hard to concentrate sometimes. But I will. Honest. Because I heard it said that we should be grateful for what we have. And what I have is the greatest award I could ever dream of. I owe for that. I will keep on plugging away. That is, as soon as I go upstairs and eat something. In the meantime...here's my story! http://www.wclibrary.info/erma/2007globalhumor.asp