Operation Smile and Rentback Books

I recently learned about an organization called Operation Smile that provides surgeries for children born with facial abnormalities, such as cleft palate. The problems of the cleft palate go deeper than just the social stigma of looking different than one's peers. Ten percent of these children die before their first birthdays. Those who live often face problems such as not being able to eat, speak, smile, or socialize. This wonderful organization provides medical treatments in the form of paying for costly surgeries that these kids' parents wouldn't be able to provide on their own.

Fifty-three medical volunteers recently completed a mission to Guatemala City where they provided surgeries to 149 children. In order to make these life-altering procedures possible, Hospital Militar donated five sanitized rooms for the week. 

While there, team members were inspired by two-year-old David's mother's fussing over her child before the doctors put him under anesthesia. Love speaks every language. The biggest surprise of this mission was how smooth everything ran. It must be awe-inspiring to witness so many good deed doers at once making dreams come true. 

They were not the only ones helping this to happen. Many people and organizations provide funding for Operation Smile. One such organization is Rentback Books. For each text book that you rent, Rentback will donate money to Operation Smile. This way, you can enjoy the satisfaction of getting school textbooks at a good price while solving a world problem.

Here's a video to show how they work.

Some perks are:
-save 40-90% off of bookstore prices
-free shipping both ways
-can highlight in the textbooks
-flexible renting periods
-we donate to Operation Smile with each textbook rented

Check them out at: http://www.campusbookrentals.com

Wordless Wednesday: It's All Greek to Me

Admit it, you were one.

How does a GDI like me end up with three Greek kids? Must be that fraternity boy I married.





While in college, our son enjoyed the "Animal House" feel of his fraternity at CofC.



 

Our middle child is proud to be a Zeta at Maryland!

ZTA

Last Saturday, our youngest accepted a bid to AEPhi at UCF!

ΑΕΦ

When I was in school I rushed four sororities on an icy evening. Not wanting to kill myself in heals, I wore my hiking boots. The gossip got back to me. "Did you hear? Someone wore hiking boots to rush!" 

"Uh, that would be me." The Greeks don't take no freaks . . . but they take their offspring. ;-)

Please clickity click on the 

Picket Fence at the top of the blog. 

θΑΝΚΣ!

Did I get that right?

Wordless Wednesday: She's Gone!

 

 

I remember sitting in the limousine at my father's funeral procession. While everyone around me wept, I felt a heaviness in my heart and couldn't speak. That's what it felt like when my youngest daughter left for college. "Heavy heart" is not just an expression. It's a real biological response that goes beyond tears.

Clicking this link: http://picketfenceblogs.com/vote/3715 should be a picket fence vote for me. Thanks!

Lost and Found #GBE2

#3 = Lost and Found

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, perhaps in the year 15 BC (before children), my mind started to gradually slip away. It wasn't anything dramatic like space aliens ringing the doorbell and asking for brain samples, but rather a slow deterioration of sanity.

Maybe it started in middle school when the dorks teased me for wearing my sister's powder blue, handi-me-down gym uniform instead of the sexy red ones on sale at school. With the red garbs, one could  turn them around backwards and slide the zipper down low. Ms. "McFeel," the questionable PE teacher didn't seem to mind as long as we wore a PE uniform and took our showers after class. If not the uniforms, perhaps the brain drain came when I was brave stupid enough to get on stage in a flapper outfit and dance the Charleston with Steve Noonan in front of the laughing student body.

"What was everyone laughing at?" I later asked a friend.

"Your costumes," she said.

Yeah, right! I was almost naive enough to buy it. Junior High School definitely chipped a good 10% of mind out of my clueless head.

High school must have taken some more. Shortly after my sixteenth birthday, I got my driver's license and proudly drove into the car next to me in a snowy parking lot. Okay, I wasn't proud of hitting the car (multiple times when the honkers made me panic), but I was proud of the first time being alone in the car, until . . .

Being a mindless teen, I stuck a note about the size of a bobby pin on the damaged car's windshield wiper and crawled home to tell my dad. He took it well. In fact, he took it a lot better than the lady I hit. For the next year, my parents begged and pleaded me to take the car out alone, but by then about 20% of mind went missing, so no can do. I've only been in one other mild fender bender in over thirty years of driving daily, so maybe I found five percent between then and now.

College took more due to a little bit of drinking at parties. Alcohol has been scientifically proven to kill brain cells, so go ahead and remove the five percent I'd found plus 5% more and now I'm down to 75% sanity. Until my boyfriend said, "Will you marry me and live in Memphis?"

Marrying him was actually a fabulous idea, but I question my mental state when I said,"Yes to Memphis." If that ain't love, I don't know what is. Take away another 5% for moving to Memphis and becoming a teacher. A teacher? Did I say, "5%?" Better make that 5% for moving to Memphis and 25% for becoming a teacher. What am I down to now? 45%? Being able to do basic math means I have a little bit of mind left add 5%, but then I got pregnant. Three times. Three children.

Some comedian, can't remember who, once said we lose half of our minds with each child born. That would put me far into the negative category. Just because I scratched my head and hopped like a monkey to get my babies to smile does not mean I've lost my mind? I mean, doesn't everyone do that?

Since this challenge is called "Lost and Found," I must end with the story about how I got it all back. We put the baby on a bus this morning and sent her off to be a camp counselor for the summer. The middle one comes home in five days and stays for a few weeks, but come fall we will be official empty nesters. If that doesn't restore my mind, nothing will!



If you like my post, please click the white picket fence or the snippet. Thanks!

Roommates: The Good, The Bad, and The Funny #AtoZ

When a kid goes off to college for the first time, there's no telling what one will find in a roommate. They could be placed with my first roommate, a junior whose parents couldn't afford to get her a single, so she pretended to live alone by ignoring me, or my daughter's first: Miss I-Know-This-Room-Set-Up-Gives-Me-More-Space-Than-You-But-I-LIKE-IT. This spoiled brat placed her bed in the center of the tiny room and refused to move it until my daughter did the same with her bed, thus blocking all floor space in the room. To get to the other side, you pole vault! By the time they parted, the relationship had escalated to rabid shouting matches.

Then there's the disaster when my poor 19 year-old niece had a bizarre 32 year-old placed in her suite. "Mom" was into everyone's business, except her own.

Out of all my roommates, one of my best and most memorable was Rhonda. You can meet her at http://www.laugh-quotes.com and just imagine how much fun we had living together. I already told you about the present I gave her (P post), but I bet most don't know about how she inspired me to write an outstanding paper for my English class.

The teacher had assigned us to complete a "how to" paper where we gave details on how to do something. At first I was torn about what to write, so Rhonda and I brainstormed various "how to" topics. Rhonda came up with the idea of "How to be a slob?"

I said, "Well, Rhonda, you're so good at it, why don't you tell me?"

She said, "I'll do better than that, I'll show you."

Next I knew, Rhonda and I were in each others drawers throwing each others clothing into the air and covering our floor with various objects. A crowd had gathered outside our room staring at "Girls Gone Mad." As we laughed hysterically people asked, "What are they doing?"

Needless to say, I wrote a great paper on "How To Be A Slob." I think I even got an A. Thanks, Rhonda!

Of course one poor sock, never found its mate, so we tacked it to the wall with a wanted poster:

WANTED

 One Mate

Must be blue, single or unattached.

Holey socks need not apply.

 

I think it went to its grave without a partner. :(

Please check Rhonda's blog out at http://www.laugh-quotes.com. She's hysterical! And tune in tomorrow for letter S. You just might learn how to make it snow in warm weather.

Games #AtoZ

I don't like games. Sure, deal me in after shuffling the cards or let me bankrupt you with hotel traps in Monopoly, these are not the games I'm referring too. I'm talking about those sickly, conniving tricks we humans play with each other for fun or personal gain. I like Billy Bob but instead of telling him, I'm going to flirt with Hugo and make him jealous. These are the games I despise.

Having never been a game player, I became victim to some of the worst mind muses during my young dating life--all without my knowledge. So Senior year of college when that Freshman boyfriend wanted to see if he could rekindle the old flame, I was ready with the coaching of a dear friend. 

When the ex called, my friend interrupted my conversation and said, "Tell him you got to go." I gave Barry an odd look, but he insisted, "You have to go." So I abruptly ended the conversation and felt the pull from the other end of the phone telling me that he still wanted to talk.

Next, Barry prepped me for the date. When we'd get to the restaurant, I was to tell my date that I'd promised to drive my roommate to Walgreens at three. I hadn't promised anything, but my friend told me that if I wanted this guy, I had to give him the idea that he's not the most important thing in my life. It sounded cheap, felt wrong, and when it came down to it, I decided this wasn't me and I wasn't playing the game. Although I chose not to drop my break away excuse, I knew exactly what was going on when he told me, "My old roommate is coming to the apartment to help me move at three." I also realized at that point, that this was not the guy for me. Being sure not to mess up his plans, I scooted out by three, even though my date insisted I didn't have to go. It wasn't a game. I really didn't want to be around someone who didn't treat me like I was important.

Now as a humor blogger, my post would not be complete without the comical end of game playing, so here goes more game stories that happened during those fun college years.

A friend of mine and I decided we weren't going to play the sly check out the new date routine by hiding behind the pole and taking casual glances. We played openly and honestly. Dressed in a trench coat, hat, and sunglasses, we carried our notepad and pen down to the lobby for pickup. We asked the poor victim to turn around while telling him the absolute truth. "I want to check out your butt before I'll let you date my friend." Next, we'd ask him multiple questions about what his intentions were with our friends. No lies or deceptions here!

Nor did I go along with the nasty boys of Zeta Beta Tau during their Little Sister Initiation. Lined up in front of the entire fraternity, they gave each girl a banana with whipped cream on top and asked us to show them what we'd do with it. I promptly chomped down on the piece of fruit and tore the top off. I don't like games.

Please tune in tomorrow when letter H will take us on a fun look at Historical Humor.