Fast Food

Being hungry, I treated myself to a stop at Burger King and ordered a Whopper Meal instead of the Whopper Junior Meal. After I told the lady what I wanted, she asked, "Small, medium, or large?" She should have said, "Do you want large, humongous, or disgusting!" There is no such thing as small when it comes to American fast food.

1,010 Calories

As any carb counter knows, 45 carbs per meal is about what we should consume. Sixty is okay, any more than that is too much. My "small" Whopper Meal consisted of a Whopper, fries, and a Diet Coke. Whew! Thank God my Coke was diet.

As I check the Burger King website, I see that I consumed  . . . HOLY SH*T!! Calories: 1010! Fat: 57 grams! Carbohydrates: 95 freaking grams! Like that's two meals in one. Like that's an entire day's worth of calories. Like that's a heart attack. I don't feel too well.

Now mind you, this was the "small"meal. Had I supersized . . . 1110(med)/1210 (lg) calories; 62(med)/67 (lg) grams of fat; 107(med.)/120 (lg) grams of carbs! Why would anyone ever need to super size a fast food meal? And to think, Burger King is flame broiled. Other places might be worse.

Burp! It was good but after looking at the carbs, I think I'll need to give up this yummy pleasure. Today is our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I hope my husband isn't planning on taking me to Burger King.

From Goalie to Graduate

The Cutest Goalie Ever

In soccer (of futball for you European types) we call them keepers. These are the brave souls that stand in front of a net and ask for a pounding. If that ball happens to miss them, they eagerly jump in front of the bullet to take the full impact. Ouch! This wouldn't be so bad in the powder puff league, but has anyone seen the men play? You couldn't pay me to stand in that goal.

All of my kids played soccer at one time or another, but only my youngest ever played goalie. She was a little tyke who was supposed to stop powder puff balls. Unfortunately, the last time she played keeper, the ball rolled past her because she was on all fours picking flowers. So she doesn't know how to be a goalie, but she does know how to be a graduate. I'm so proud of my baby who just graduated high school with an honors diploma!

My baby's a high school graduate!

Hearing Loss Humor

Earlier this school year, I made the horrid mistake of allowing my boss to know that I hold a bachelor's degree in speech pathology/audiology. This is what I majored in way back when I was a dumb kid who hadn't a clue what to do with my life. With the discovery of my hidden degree, I was granted the job of giving hearing screenings to students in the kindergarten, second, and fourth grades.

Audiometer

The kids lined up outside my door, stepped inside, listened to tones, and moved on. In between classes, I decided to test the audiometer to see if it worked. That dang machine must have been broken because I couldn't hear a thing. Maybe it was related to my turning the TV up too loud (according to my husband) or blushing when someone said something benign like, "I need a Bic."

Needless to say, I set up an appointment with an ENT and had a hearing test. I'm not deaf enough to stick annoying plastic things in my ears, but I'm a bit at a loss. However, my hearing defect is atypical, and why wouldn't it be? Most people who lose hearing with age or rock music find the upper tones wiped out. My high and low tones are fine. I have a bilateral dip right in the middle--1,000 hertz. Of course, this is the pitch for speech. So I hear plenty, I just don't always understand.

The doctor said that this type of loss is hereditary. My daughter gave me a silent FU. That's okay, I couldn't hear her anyway.

Let me leave you with a fun clip about the Empty Nest and hearing loss. http://comedians.jokes.com/bill-engvall/videos/bill-engvall---empty-nest/

I Still Have It - A Scap of Toilet Paper

Do you have any worthless possessions? These are the items that have no value but mean something to you. As the title suggests, I have tucked away a plain scrap of toilet paper in one of my books. I'm sure you're asking what any logical person would ask: Why haven't you flushed it? Anyone who went to sleep-away camp as a kid, would understand this oddity.

Back in the days of no gray hair and a skinny life-filled body, I spent my summers at a camp in Zionsville, Indiana. Today they call it Gucci but in my days, it was UCI. This is a Jewish camp with month long sessions filled with fun and sports. We lived in packed cabins with a group of girls that we grew extremely close too. We also got to know the boys quite well when we'd flirt with them during our day activities.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. For me, that was camp. The last night of camp, everyone stayed up all night crying and hugging because we didn't want to go back to our awful and abusive homes. Not really, but one would think that the way we boo hooed. Anyway, that last night of camp, I wailed with everyone else while carrying around my diminishing roll of toilet paper.

One of my friends grabbed my toilet paper and scribbled a message on it: Cheer up. We all love you. Simple, plain, to the point; and yes, I still have it.

Joy Oh Joy

Joy oh joy!

It's May, and the last day of school is closing in. Not that May is a picnic. Kids want summer to begin and their behavior shows it. However, I just heard that the world is going to end on Saturday. That would be a bummer because I wouldn't get my summer vacation, so the world can't end just yet.

As for summer plans, I haven't got any. I'll just enjoy sleeping late, writing, blogging, and maybe even sending out those queries. Eventually I'll clean my house. I may even remove the cobwebs from that stack of books waiting to be read. If I don't want to get dressed until noon, so be it.

I will also attend teacher sessions to get a jump on those required during the year. If any of them offer pay, I'm all over it.

Joy oh joy! It's my favorite time of year!

Kindergarten

I'd always heard that whatever one needs to survive in life, one learns in Kindergarten. If you haven't seen Kindergarten in a while, keep in mind that it's now the new first grades. These little tikes, who are barely out of diapers, are already writing complete stories and completing real math problems. Forget about identifying numbers--that was so preschool. With such a tough curriculum, I wonder how any kid could survive without the pre-school experience.

I remember a carefree kindergarten year with Miss Meyers. She was a loving older woman, who I was lucky enough to have right before she retired. I loved her dearly. Apparently she loved me too because at the end of the year, I found her pink crayon in my bag. I went to tell her about it, and she said, "Shhh. Don't tell anyone, but I gave it to you because you're my favorite." Okay, here I am forty-four years later blabbing about it, but this little act meant so much to baby me. It gave me the foundation and confidence to continue on in school for another seventeen years!

I have three children who have made it through Kindergarten and way beyond. When my youngest started Kindergarten she came across the misfortune of having spoken to Ross. He was a foolish young man who worked at our community center. After Erica enjoyed her first day of Kindergarten, Ross asked her if she cried. When she gave him a puzzled look and said, "No," he didn't stop. He told my child how she is supposed to cry on the first day of Kindergarten. Everyone cries. So needless to say, she started an epidemic up and down the hall on day two. The worst criers were the teachers' kids whose moms worked right there in the building. Thanks a lot, Ross! I thought about payback when his kiddos started Kindergarten but had grown up too much to have fun at his expense. Dag-gum-mit!

Lavatory Humor

This was my lame attempt at the letter P that got moved to L when I thought of something else. If you're not amused by bathroom humor, you may move along now.

A whach-ma-call-it

In case you're still here: When I was a little girl and we had to go to the bathroom, we went weewee; however, my husband's family went teetee. Weewee, teetee, peepee, piddle, piss, wiz, puddle, tinkle, pass water, void--for something private, we sure have a lot of words for it. Then there are the words for the action--take a piss, relieve oneself, go to the bathroom, or how about just . . . wait . . . urinate?

So, I wonder, why so many words for something so private? After all, it's no one's business when I use the can, toilet, john, potty, bathroom, lavatory, powder room, rest room, water closet--here we go again. A zillion words for eliminating waste. Don't even start me on the bowels.

 I guess it's time to end this post, flush, and get off the pot. ☺

Memphis in the News (Flood/Obama/Grizzlies)

Never seen boats this close

Power line under water?

As a humor blogger, do I dare write about something that is not even remotely funny? I write serious posts sometimes, so here one is.

I live in Memphis where the rivers' waters have swelled far beyond their normal limits. This has caused many problems for the poor flooded out victims who live close to the water's edge. Luckily, I do not reside near the river but have had the pleasure of visiting with our newest residents--the mosquitoes who have been actively breeding due to the vast amounts of sitting water in our area.

And for those who wonder, yes, that is a power line under the water. Luckily or wisely, the city has turned off the boxes to avoid an electrical tragedy.

Water up to wall

Sidewalk under water

A few nights ago, I ventured downtown to gawk at the river, as so many Memphians have done. My daughter snapped a few photos. It was particularly interesting to see the partially submerged signs warning motorists not to park in specific spots. If they parked there, they would be towed. I'd like to see the city try to tow any violators stupid enough to park under water.

In this last photo, a fish had washed on shore and met its doom. My husband stood above it and pretended to have caught the largest fish this non-fisherman had ever caught. It looked fresh, so I had to wonder if someone would take it home and slap it on a griddle. I guess the dead animal law would apply to fish too: you can only take the road kill home if you murdered it yourself.

 Although we've had some recent trouble in the city, we've also had some good news. One local high school, Booker T. Washington, had President Obama speak at their graduation ceremony yesterday. Seeing the excitement on the faces of these inner city youth, brought tears to my eyes. Okay, to tell it like it was, I boo hooed throughout the entire news broadcast.

Also, our Memphis Grizzlies just lost their seventh game of the series against Oklahoma. Unfortunately we didn't make history by being the first eighth seat to go to the final four, but we gave Oklahoma a scare. We also beat San Antonio, the first ranked team! Go Griz! The weepy players brightened up when they saw the cheering crowd waiting for the team at the airport.

So now as a city, we are more united than ever. Michael Mustgo from The Travel and Leisure site ran an article stating that Memphis has the ugliest and stupidest people in the country. Anyone who has the audacity to print an article classifying a group of strangers in such a negative manner must have an extremely ugly personality . . .  and be stupid too!

Nah, I Won't Do That (Laughter is the Best Medicine)

Since I messed up and posted my O before my P,  I figured I could do it again with the Laughter is the Best Medicine Blog Hop. I could have called this post, Monday Hop, Laughter is the Best Medicine, or anything else now that I've set the pattern of not knowing the alphabet backwards, but it's time for N so, Nah, I won't do that.

I'm supposed to make folks laugh by blogging jokes about myself, but there is nothing about me that anyone could ever make fun of. Let's face it, I have perfectly friendly hair that reaches out to greet anyone within a foot of me. I can take a lock, wrap it around a finger, and make a perfect curl. If I don't like the direction of the curl, I just flip it the other way. It bends and stays just like a pipe cleaner. But that's not all. My hair has the magical ability to change colors every few months. Not many can do that.

Even my skin is welcoming with friendly zits that come out to say "hello" right before a major event. Yes, I am the world's oldest teenager. I bet not many women pushing fifty can brag about acne! Did I say fifty? Uh, let's make that thirty.

This is my soul

But forget about my looks. The eyes are the windows to the soul, so let's see what my soul is about. In Sharon Creech's novel, "Walk Two Moons," the teacher asked the kids to draw a picture of their soul. Here is mine:

Need I say more. Now that you've seen my soul, you know that there is nothing funny about me. I am a totally serious teacher who is about to go crazy now that it's May and the kids have quit thinking because to them school is out. So what does your soul look like. Do you dare share??

Punishments

With all of the blogger outage mess, I messed up and posted my O piece first, so if you want to keep in this backwards order, scoot down one entry and that should be for today. You can pretend that I posted punishments yesterday, if that makes you happy. ☺ For those who don't care, here goes . . .

My husband and I were never ones to spank our children. Not to say we didn't punish them when they misbehaved, we just found better ways to discipline. Discipline doesn't need to leave kids angry or bitter, but rather to teach children right from wrong.

One of our most successful punishments worked well with our oldest two kids when they were very young. "Do what we say or we won't let you brush your teeth." The kids would scramble to obey because nothing was worse than a stinky mouth. Not only did we get them to mind us, but we changed their view of tooth brushing from something parents force their children to do to a privilege.

I remember another situation when our son was just a toddler.  I was struggling to load our large golden retriever into the back of our van. Daniel spun circles while I was distracted until a truck honked and nearly missed hitting him. Many parents would spank a child for going into the street, but in reality, whose fault is it? He was too young to understand his actions, and I needed to be more focused on him than the dog. If I needed to be angry with anyone, it should have been me. I let my instincts take over when I snatched that baby into my arms. Tears shot out of my eyes as I told him how scared I was at the thought of almost losing him because I love him so much. We locked in a hug for a long while, and that boy never ventured into the street again. Objective reached.

Finally, it would be nice to say that my children never fought with each other, but they did. Once they reached "our" limit of fighting, we sat them on the love seat until they learned how to love each other. We didn't need to punish them because they punished themselves more than we ever could have. To quote Bill Cosby, "Parents don't want fair, they want quiet."

Parents need to quit hitting their children and find quintessential punishments instead. I know I wouldn't do a better job at work, or any where else, if someone hit me whenever I messed up. What is the true message in spanking?

Oh, No. Not Again

I leave my Skype on in case my daughter who is over seas wants to chat; however, I repeatedly find odd messages from a Russian dating site. Yes, I'm of Russian decent, but I'm also married, female, and straight. No matter how many times I block these lonely hearts, they still find a way to send me bizarre messages like the one below.

Greetings dear! I'm not a deer, moose, or elk. I do respond to dear from some folks but usually they are people I'm intimate with or of the older generation.

I'm Marina. I live in Russian Federation. Having never met you, do I really care what your name is or where you live?
Do you know that the most attractive ladies in the world live in my country? That's true! Of course it is! My ancestors were from Russia, so I must be a most attractive lady. Thanks for the compliment.
I invite you to a very good international dating site where hundreds of lone I am searching forly hearts are looking for their future lovers. What makes this a good site? If it's that good, why are you trying to gain business from strangers who are totally out of this arena? Besides, what is a "lone I am searching forly hearts" mean? Does this person need a heart transplant. Ah! That's it. The woman is Russian and needs a heart from someone who is also of Russian decent. Sorry, lady. I'm heartless. And looking for future lovers? I already blogged about how I like my present one.
I dream about meeting a charming one I am searching for for longterm relations or even marriage. I'm charming! Thanks again, but keep keep searching. I'm married.

Are you the one I am searching for? ;) That's a H*&L No!