Over the river and through the woods...to San Francisco, then Fresno and I'm the Grandma

I'm in the middle of packing. We leave tomorrow morning for California and won't be back until next Wednesday. I'm not taking my computer and I won't be posting until I get back home. I thought about taking it, but decided you all would probably be fine without my daily or almost daily/bi-weekly grumblings.

Tom took two suitcases down from the attic. Sadly, because I ALWAYS over-pack, we are using both of them and it will probably cost us at least one limb, perhaps even two to check them at the airport. We'll have to share the burden; Tom will have to give up one of his limbs and I'll try to get out of giving up one of mine. Anyway, plus I have a carry on, which of course Tom can carry.

I am feeling so much better, thanks to my friend Karin @ Altadenahiker and her recipe for Sick Soup, although my soup did not contain dandelion leaves because here in Arkansas they are considered to be the worst kind of lawn weed and sprayed to death with plant poison except at my house, but, even so, I still don't have any.

I am looking forward to a wonderful visit at our son's in the Bay Area, then we drive to Fresno to visit my aunt (my mom's little sister) and her daughters (my cousins). We haven't been to my son's house in a couple of years and I'm anxious to see how much my grandchildren have grown. I haven't seen my aunt and cousins in almost 20 years. What a reunion that will be!

I want to wish all of you a wonderful, safe holiday filled with good food, good drink and lots of family and friends. Or you can choose to spend it alone, watching sports and nibbling the most disgustingly delicious tidbits you can find. What ever flips your switch. But whatever you do, just enjoy!

Now, I have to go pack all of the stuff I've pulled out of the closet and the drawers and laid in neat piles on the bed into a suitcase...the bigger suitcase, of course. I probably won't wear half of what I pack. And Tom will ridicule me relentlessly and laugh behind my back because I packed so much. That's okay. I choose to see it as having lots choices.

The best six doctors anywhere, And no one can deny it, Are sunshine, water, rest, and air, Exercise and diet.

I'm still sick. One day I feel like I might be getting better, the next day I'm spending most of my time in the bathroom.

I have no idea how I am going to get everything done before we leave for California next week. I am so tired right now I have to force myself to get out of bed in the morning.

Whine, whine, whine...

Blech!!!

I'm tired of being sick. I spent the entire Saturday afternoon sick in bed. I spent the entire day Sunday alternating between sitting up and laying down on the couch, sleeping off and on. Today I feel a little better, but not great.

I'm tired of being sick. I want to feel good. I want to feel energetic. I want to get back to normal.

I'm tired of being sick. Since we won't be here for Thanksgiving, we've invited my in-laws over for dinner next Saturday (which is also their wedding anniversary - 52 years). I have no idea what I am going to cook. I don't even want to think about it because my brain is too fuzzy. And even if I could decide what I wanted to cook, I can't find the energy to get enthused enough to shop for it, let alone cook it.

I'm tired of being sick. I've offered to do some painting at our church and I really WANT to do it, particularly because it's for the nursery and the kids' room, but I don't want to go near the church with a fever. Our congregation is full of older people and kids, none of whom need to get what I can't seem to get rid of. Plus I need to do the newsletter before I leave. All I can think of is...UGH...I'm just not in any shape to do anything and all I want to do is take a nap!

I'm tired of being sick. A week from Wednesday we leave for California. We are flying instead of driving, but even so I'm not looking forward to the actual trip. I want to be magically transported to our destination in a split second and then, when our visit is over, I want to be magically transported home. No airport, no schlepping luggage and carry-on's, no driving, no packing and unpacking, no nothing...just visiting and relaxing. And, I need to start thinking about packing, but my head is so fuzzy I cannot think about what clothes to take, what jewelry to pack, will it be hot, will it be cold, will it be in between, what will fit, what is too small or what is too big (oh, yeah, that's a joke), what should I iron or not iron.I need to start making sure everything is done here for the time we'll be away. I have no energy or desire to do any of it.

I'm tired of being sick. I'm tired of being grouchy and bitchy. I don't want to respond to everything Tom says with "NO!"...like today when we were discussing what to have with burritos for dinner.

TOM: Do we have lettuce?
ME: Yes, do you want a salad? We have an avocado and I can make an avocado salad dressing.
TOM: No, that's okay. I'll just shred it up and put it in my burrito.
ME: NO!! You CAN'T put lettuce on a burrito!
TOM: Why? Is that a burrito law?

Bless his heart.

Did I mention, I'm tired of being sick!

"Why didn't you shoot??" asked the father. "Because they were so alive!" replied his son.

Deer hunting season started today. Arkansas has shut down for the duration. Construction sites will now come to a screeching halt. Nearly every man in every office, warehouse or shop will be "sick" or "on vacation."

Deer hunting is so popular here that I saw a commercial on tv last night for an organization that helps feed the hungry by accepting donations of deer meat. As if these guys needed yet ANOTHER reason to go out into the woods with big rifles and copious amounts of beer.

Tom drove to Pine Bluff this morning, over an hour away, and he was probably the only male driver on the road. But this evening around sundown, the interstate will be peppered with four-wheel-drive trucks covered with mud driven by grown men in camouflage jackets and hats.

All the stores, particularly WalMart, are selling all things camouflage for the hunters: pants, jackets, hats, boots, waders, blinds and beer koozies.

But, there's so much more. The rifle or shotgun is by far the most important implement, but is not much good without your Camo Ammo (no...I am not kidding)...

Of course, there just might be an accident or two out there in the wilderness with a bunch of drunk guys with guns, knives and beer, so one must be prepared with Camo Bandaids...

But, it's not just for Dad anymore. They're meeting the needs of the entire hunting family.

Junior wants to be just like his Dad, so he has camo briefs...

Put your toddler in these precious little Camo Sneakers...

And won't Sis be the envy of all of her teenage friends with her new Camo Bed...

Of course, mom is left home alone with the kids, but she's not complaining. She's married to a manly man and knows that he must be free to pursue manly endeavors, so in his absence she does her best to multitask. Carrying the baby around with her is the best way she's found to keep the little guy within eye sight, and how better to do that than with her Camo Baby Carrier...

When the Big Guy gets home, though, he's in the mood {wink, wink} and she wants to make sure he stays that way. After the kids are in bed, and while the Big Guy is in the shower, she slips into a little Camo something of her own...

Men here live for this shit.

Would You Have Had the Guts When You Were Ten???

I wasn't going to post a personal blog today. I've already done a food blog. I've baked some savory cheddar scones. I've run enough old papers through the shredder to fill four large garbage bags. And, on top of it, I've had a low grade fever and a headache all day and I keep forgetting to take aspirin.

So while my scones were cooling, I thought I would read some news sites I don't venture to very often and I came across the following story about an amazing 10-year-old boy.

What was I like when I was 10-years-old? I think I was more interested in playing tether ball. I couldn't wait to get home to watch the Mickey Mouse Club, after which I would ride my bike until just about dark. I was more interested in recess and dodge ball and fitting in than standing up for myself and my beliefs, or any body elses for that matter. I don't remember a lot about being 10-years-old, but what I do remember doesn't come any near to resembling this:

A Boy and His Flag
by David Koon, Updated: 11/11/2009, Arkansas Times

Will Phillips isn't like other boys his age.

For one thing, he's smart. Scary smart. A student in the West Fork School District in Washington County, he skipped a grade this year, going directly from the third to the fifth. When his family goes for a drive, discussions are much more apt to be about Teddy Roosevelt and terraforming Mars than they are about Spongebob Squarepants and what's playing on Radio Disney.

It was during one of those drives that the discussion turned to the pledge of allegiance and what it means. Laura Phillips is Will's mother. “Yes, my son is 10,” she said. “But he's probably more aware of the meaning of the pledge than a lot of adults. He's not just doing it rote recitation. We raised him to be aware of what's right, what's wrong, and what's fair.”

Will's family has a number of gay friends. In recent years, Laura Phillips said, they've been trying to be a straight ally to the gay community, going to the pride parades and standing up for the rights of their gay and lesbian neighbors. They've been especially dismayed by the effort to take away the rights of homosexuals – the right to marry, and the right to adopt. Given that, Will immediately saw a problem with the pledge of allegiance.

“I've always tried to analyze things because I want to be lawyer,” Will said. “I really don't feel that there's currently liberty and justice for all.”

After asking his parents whether it was against the law not to stand for the pledge, Will decided to do something. On Monday, Oct. 5, when the other kids in his class stood up to recite the pledge of allegiance, he remained sitting down. The class had a substitute teacher that week, a retired educator from the district, who knew Will's mother and grandmother. Though the substitute tried to make him stand up, he respectfully refused. He did it again the next day, and the next day. Each day, the substitute got a little more cross with him. On Thursday, it finally came to a head. The teacher, Will said, told him that she knew his mother and grandmother, and they would want him to stand and say the pledge.

“She got a lot more angry and raised her voice and brought my mom and my grandma up,” Will said. “I was fuming and was too furious to really pay attention to what she was saying. After a few minutes, I said, ‘With all due respect, ma'am, you can go jump off a bridge.' ”

Will was sent to the office, where he was given an assignment to look up information about the flag and what it represents. Meanwhile, the principal called his mother.

“She said we have to talk about Will, because he told a sub to jump off a bridge,” Laura Phillips said. “My first response was: Why? He's not just going to say this because he doesn't want to do his math work.”

Eventually, Phillips said, the principal told her that the altercation was over Will's refusal to stand for the pledge of allegiance, and admitted that it was Will's right not to stand. Given that, Laura Phillips asked the principal when they could expect an apology from the teacher. “She said, ‘Well I don't think that's necessary at this point,' ” Phillips said.

After Phillips put a post on the instant-blogging site twitter.com about the incident, several of her friends got angry and alerted the news media. Meanwhile, Will Phillips still refuses to stand during the pledge of allegiance. Though many of his friends at school have told him they support his decision, those who don't have been unkind, and louder.

“They [the kids who don't support him] are much more crazy, and out of control and vocal about it than supporters are.”

Given that his protest is over the rights of gays and lesbians, the taunts have taken a predictable bent. “In the lunchroom and in the hallway, they've been making comments and doing pranks, and calling me gay,” he said. “It's always the same people, walking up and calling me a gaywad.”

Even so, Will said that he can't foresee anything in the near future that will make him stand for the pledge. To help him deal with the peer pressure, his parents have printed off posts in his support on blogs and websites. “We've told him that people here might not support you, but we've shown him there are people all over that support you,” Phillips said. “It's really frustrating to him that people are being so immature.”

At the end of our interview, I ask young Will a question that might be a civics test nightmare for your average 10-year-old. Will's answer, though, is good enough — simple enough, true enough — to give me a little rush of goose pimples. What does being an American mean?

“Freedom of speech,” Will says, without even stopping to think. “The freedom to disagree. That's what I think pretty much being an American represents.”

Somewhere, Thomas Jefferson smiles.

So, what were you doing when you were 10? Were you a conscientious objector and resisting the status quo? Were you analyzing the concept of freedom and making political statements? Were you being an advocate for your family friends?

Yeah, me neither.

Humor For The Aging...

I've been in kind of a weird mood lately, feeling older than my years because I have a few unexplained aches and pains. When I'm feeling old and out of touch with most things younger, I wander around the Baby Boomer sites looking for humor. This afternoon, I came across this one. My thanks to My Senior Citizen & Baby Boomer Humor Blog for posting it.

Colonoscopy Fun

On the day before my colonoscopy, I began my preparation.

In accordance with my instructions, I didn’t eat any solid food that day; all I had was chicken broth, which is basically water, only with less flavor.

I was given a prescription for a product called ‘MoviPrep,’ which comes in a box large enough to hold a microwave oven. That evening, I took the MoviPrep. You mix two packets of powder together in a one-liter plastic jug, then you fill it with lukewarm water. (For those unfamiliar with the metric system, a liter is about 32 gallons). Then you have to drink the whole jug. This takes about an hour, because MoviPrep tastes – and here I am being kind – like a mixture of goat spit and urinal cleanser, with just a hint of lemon.

MoviPrep is a nuclear laxative. I don’t want to be too graphic, here, but have you ever seen a space-shuttle launch? This is pretty much the MoviPrep experience, with you as the shuttle. There are times when you wish the commode had a seat belt. You spend several hours pretty much confined to the bathroom, spurting violently. You eliminate everything. And then, when you figure you must be totally empty, you have to drink another liter of MoviPrep, at which point, as far as I can tell, your bowels travel into the future and start eliminating food that you have not even eaten yet.

Colonoscopies are no joke, but these comments during the exam were quite humorous. A physician claimed that the following are actual comments made by his patients while he was performing their colonoscopies:

1. ‘Take it easy, Doc. You’re boldly going where no man has gone before!’
2. ‘Find Amelia Earhart yet?’
3. ‘Can you hear me NOW?’
4. ‘Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?’
5. ‘You know, in Arkansas , we’re now legally married.’
6. ‘Any sign of the trapped miners, Chief?’
7. ‘You put your left hand in, you take your left hand out…’
8. ‘Hey! Now I know how a Muppet feels!’
9. ‘If your hand doesn’t fit, you must quit!’
10. ‘Hey Doc, let me know if you find my dignity.’
11. ‘Could you write a note for my wife saying that my head is not up there?’

And my personal favorite...

12. ‘You used to be an executive at Enron, didn’t you?’

"Dead Skunk in the Middle of the Road - Stinkin' to High Heaven! - Take a Whiff on Me, That Ain't No Rose!"

Ahhh, the poetry of lyrics of a song that spent 6 weeks in the number one spot on the music charts in 1973 in Little Rock, Arkansas. At least, that's what was reported in the Arkansas Times this morning. If you'd like to hear the entire piece, you can do so below.


If you are unable to see the video, you can watch it HERE...

As a native Californian, I did not fancy myself a fan of hillbilly prose. But we Californians were not immune. As a matter of fact, 6 years later in 1979 we enjoyed our own version of cornpone prose with the ever popular "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer," which was written, recorded and released in San Francisco by a local veterinarian and his wife.


If you are unable to see the video, you can watch it HERE...

But, I suppose the tragedy of an old woman trampled to death by a 300 pound wild antlered bull is a bit more sophisticated and civilized than a rendezvous with dead malodorous road kill.

Such Fun!

I love these guys. Enjoy...