Fireworks

Happy Independence Day week-end! It's been 235 years since our country was founded and the most popular American fourth of July tradition is fireworks. Many of us gather around to see shows from the ground, but have you ever wondered what fireworks look like from an airplane? I imagined bright bouquets of color filling up the window, but that's not it at all.

Years ago, my husband pointed out the window of an airplane and said, "Look. Fireworks."

"Where?" I asked.

After scanning the skies, I finally spotted a quarter shaped explosion, followed by several other mini light displays. Sure, it was cool but not what I expected. In reality, planes fly much higher than exploding fireworks, so just like everything else from above, the light display shrunk.

Even with today's technology, I've never seen a film or still photo that captures the true beauty of fireworks, but here's a short clip which I enjoyed.

Mom's Revenge

For those who remember my last week's Wordless Wednesday post, Jo suggested I do the same to my kids' pictures. However, I didn't have to do much, they'd already done it to themselves.

Miami, Florida 1949

We've all heard of visits from spirits. This actually happened in my family, and here's photographic proof. My youngest daughter accompanied my parents on their honeymoon in 1949!

Super Dan

The Jolly Green Giant and Smurfs have nothing on this character. Watch Daniel flex his muscles for the blue ray. When he was in preschool, I used to pin pillowcases to his back so he could run around saving the world. Not much has changed.

Six Eyes

Sweet Judy would never alter her Mom's picture and had nothing to do with last week's post, but I wouldn't want her to feel left out, so here is six eyes--no multiple personality disorder here.

The Best Brand of Fertilizer - #GBE2

What's That?

This week's GBE 2 prompt is a picture. Unfortunately, this plant is something I've never seen thriving in our yard. My husband and I tried to plant one and fertilized it with advanced college degrees. You know how it goes:  BS = bull sh*t; MS = more sh*t; PhD = piled higher and deeper. I guess we didn't add enough manure to the plant because it didn't bear fruit for long.

Maybe my degrees were all wrong. I received a BHS instead of the standard BS. It stands for Bachelor of Health Science which is a joke because I never had the clinical ear to be a speech therapist and listen to kids say, "Ew, ew, er." As for the Audiology part, I dropped it after noticing the people who worked hard for more sh*t degrees only to change jobs before thirty. You can only push buttons for so long.

So with the desire to make loads and loads of money, I pursued a more sh*t degree in Special Education. Our high pay is the reason the economy is so messed up. Just ask any of those politicians who are pushing anti-teacher bills. Since my career wasn't bearing fruit on the money tree, I could only hope the husband bought the right brand of fertilizer.

He holds three degrees. After receiving his BS, he went on to pile it higher and deeper, but lawyers do it wrong. After the doctor of jurisprudence, he added more sh*t. The tree started to bear fruit, but so did we. Three little money suckers swung from the tree's branches and turned it into firewood.

Now the monkeys are trying to add fertilizer to their own trees. Hopefully they're buying the right brand of manure at their institutes of higher education! I know the son did. A degree in Economics landed him an instant job straight out of college.

Spilling Guts

Should I or Shouldn't I?

Several bloggers discussed whether or not to spill ones guts out in posts. I say, "No." It's a messy business that will result in me tripping and pulling five feet of intestinal material out of my body. Of course with that, I could have a fine jump rope but probably wouldn't feel like skipping. I mean who wants to jump rope with your guts sticking out? Plus while everything's open, I could pull out excess fat. They call that a tummy tuck, but this would be a homemade one that wouldn't cost ten-thousand dollars. All I'd have to do is spill my guts, pull out fat, then shove the intestines back in. I'd probably lose forty pounds, so on second thought--okay. Maybe we should spill our guts out after all. But not in front of the computer because if one bleeds on the keyboard the computer might crash!

Wordless Wednesday - Kids & Computers

This is what happens when your kids get a hold of your photo and an art program on a computer.

GBE2: First Love

At our wedding reception, my brother warned my husband to be wary about what I did to my first love. I tore my love into pieces then cried at the departure, but it wasn't totally my fault. Being the youngest of four, I tended to listen to the bad advice of older siblings. He who shall not be named told me to rip my love so that I could spread its joy around and have plenty.

Micky the Monkey

Waaaa! Blanky. **sniff** I tore it into multiple pieces then rummaged through the scraps for one smidgen large enough to rub against my nose as I sucked my thumb. That was a dirty trick to play on an unsuspecting toddler, but not to worry.

My mom paid $2 for a stuffed monkey at the grocery store, and he replaced my torn blanky. I named him Micky after Micky Dolenz from the Monkees because Micky was so cute! He also made me laugh as he banged his drums and did silly stuff on TV. Everyone else was in love with Davy Jones, not me. I liked Micky.

I also had a little crush on Robin from the Batman show . . . until he took off his mask. :p . . .  He was ugly underneath, so it was time to forget about television and focus on real boys.

Happy Father's Day Wherever You Are

Theodore Paull

On Father's Day I'm reminded of my dad and our thirty-one years together. I used to complain about how unfair it was to have had so little time with him, but after chatting with various people about their childhoods, I stopped. I'd rather have had thirty-one years with mine than sixty-two with yours. Hopefully your dad was great too, but I've heard multiple stories about abusive fathers. This is not one of them!

Although he never hit me, he could snap me into line with a look  for it was critical not to disappoint him. Unlike most children today, I had fear mixed with respect when it came to my father. When I became a parent, he told me, "Don't ever hit your children, but don't ever let them think you won't." Yep. He had me fooled.

Dad had a funny side too. Having grown up during the depression era, no one spent money on luxuries such as getting one's teeth straightened; so, Dad enjoyed making us laugh by squinting his eyes and showing his skinny little teeth with spaces between each one. Still, I couldn't wait for my handsome daddy to come home each night. My siblings and I listened for the groan of the garage door followed by a steady bump, bump, bump up the staircase. We'd charge out of bed to hug Dad who would remove his sports coat and replace it with his worn, blue terrycloth robe. I loved when Dad put me in bed because he'd tuck me in with a series of geeks, ya it was goofy but so was Dad at times. Although my kids' memories of my father are sketchy or absent, they know what geeking is all about.

He hated this picture but I love it!

Dad loved to tell pop corn, such as how his classmates nicknamed him Tadpole. A teacher with a thick German accent called attendance: Ted Paull came out sounding like tadpole, and the name stuck. Dad had his own nickname for me BooBoo, and my sibs had their fun with theories of where that name came from.

A cornier pop corn came from Dad's boyhood walk to school down Flora Place. Every morning the neighbors would lean out their windows and sing, "Theodora don't spit on the flora." Fertilize the lawn with that story, which always sounded best coming from Dad.

When an earthquake shook our house, Dad hollered, "Florence [my mother]! Quit jumping around up there!" But don't think he didn't care deeply for her. He showed his love and devotion through constant care for Mom when she became ill. He quit working and socializing to be by her bedside while she lay unconscious in an Iowa hospital. Refusing to leave her side, his stress became evident when he lost control of his Diabetes. Mom's health improved while Dad died of "total system failure" in 1993.

I miss my daddy on Father's Day and every day, but I have been blessed to have married a kind man who is much like my dad.

Meet Knob

Jeannie Campbell is hosting a blog hop and contest about getting to know our characters. So please meet the main character of my Work in Progress. Then you may buzz over to her site and meet other fictional people. How To Connect With Your MC


Knob's formal name is William Donald Donellson, but he received the nick name of Knob after Slater announced that his shaved hair made his head look like a door knob. Knob is a respectable name for an amazing, tough soldier. Unfortunately as the butt of the fifth grade, Wimpy Will has never felt like a tough anything.

Thanks for the interview. I'll answer the questions as best I can because I always do.

Question 1: What is your greatest fear? 

Gee, that's a tough one because I'm scared of everything. My brother died from falling off a bicycle and bleeding to death. I know, it sounds weird, but he had a disease called hemophilia and the doctors couldn't save him. Although I don't have the disease, you'd think I did by the way my mom hovers over me. I guess I'm scared of getting it. They say it's hereditary, so what happens if one day I catch hemophilia, start bleeding, and can't stop it?

Question 2: What is your biggest accomplishment?

I'm smart. Two years ago I won my age group in The Under the Arch Chess Tournament. I almost won again last year but a girl named Haley beat me. She's the only one who can beat me at chess, and I'm a little knock kneed at the thought of going up against her this year in the ten-year-old's category. Okay, I confess, I kinda like her, so scratch out my answer to question one. I'm most afraid of Haley--which is probably why I lost the tournament.

 

Question 3: What is your biggest regret?

I regret letting Randy bug me all the time in class. He always bullies me, but I've never stopped him because I'm kinda chicken. If I tell him to leave me alone, he might punch me, make me bleed, and do it in front of Haley. So on second thought, I guess I'm most afraid of Randy Butcher.

You didn't ask me what's been bugging me, but I'm going to tell you anyway. No one has gotten to meet me because my author has not gotten my story into query shape. It needs a lot of revisions. Here's the start of my story, MRS. ZIMMERMAN'S DONUTS by Joyce Paull Lansky. If you like it, tell your agent or editor friend about her because I want to be famous. Err, maybe not. It might be scary.

Mrs. Zimmerman's Donuts

            Every Friday after school, Harrison Zimmerman invited popular boys—not me, over for a stupid end-of-the-week celebration. His mom, the best chef in St. Louis County and co-founder of Zimmerman’s bakery, would fry up homemade donuts dipped in thick chocolate sauce. My mouth watered as we drove down Aberdeen Avenue and I breathed in the scent of those gooey pieces on a bed of powdered sugar.            

By the age of ten most guys had wolfed down seven-dozen pastries or more, but I’d never even tasted Mrs. Zimmerman’s donuts. I convinced myself that it was because my mom would’ve fallen into a tantrum at the thought of me swallowing anything slightly junky. She usually made a fuss over eating healthy as if my gut would explode if the tiniest bit of sugar or grease tickled my insides. But the real reason I’d never eaten the donuts—the fact that bothered me even more than Mom’s obsession over food, cleanliness, and safety—was that Harrison had never asked me to come to his stupid party. Actually, no one had ever invited me to go anywhere; but things were about to change.
  

That's what's been bugging me, but it's okay. Slater moved to town,

and he's going to help me be cool. See ya later.   ❧ Knob

                                                                

Wordless Wednesday - Cake in the Rain

Buy One At Kroger!

Someone left the cake out in the rain. I don't think that I can take it, 'cause it took so long to bake it, and I'll never have that recipe again. Oh, noooooooo!

No drama here! Please; it's just dessert.

Keep Your Pants Dry --CONTROL #GBE2

Control

For wee-little tots control means keeping your pants dry all day long, holding your temper when someone grabs your Tinker Toys, and not throwing the dishes into the bin just because that's what we do every day. I didn't mean to upset anyone. I was following rules. We put the plastic dishes in the toy chest at the end of the day. How was I supposed to know the girls had "special" permission to set them up in the case? I went on auto pilot pulling the plates off the shelf and putting them away until the teacher yelled at me and made me sit in the corner because I'd lost "control." At least I didn't wet my pants.

A few years after that, I lost control when the zoo lady skipped me when it was time to pet the snake. Everyone else got to touch it accept me, so I did what any little kid does: I cried. The teacher brought me into the office to touch the snake and I even got to see its cage. Then I got scared and wet my pants. (Just kidding)

Skipping a lot of years, I entered middle school where I could never control my mouth. How does anyone expect twelve-year-olds not to talk? Of course the only time I really got in trouble for talking was the time when it wasn't exactly my fault. I was honestly trying to get my work done in study hall, but Julie insisted on talking to me. She said, "I think Miss Fillipone is a good teacher."

I gave her a simple, "Ya."

Next Miss Fillipone yelled at me for talking! I laughed. I shouldn't have laughed, but it was funny. I got in stay-after-school kind of trouble while Julie, who laughed too, went unnoticed. Though angry at the unfairness of it all, I kept control in front of the teacher's desk. Didn't defend myself, didn't argue with her, didn't even look her in the eyes. At least I didn't wet my pants.

That sort of control,  not telling someone what you really think of them, has gone MIA in my adult life. In fact, it's my biggest problem. I tend to lose control and state exactly what's on my mind. It's the sort of thing that has gotten me in trouble with authority figures and makes my kids' boyfriends and girlfriends fear me. Really, I'm not a scary person--just an overly honest one who will blurt out the truth when everyone else is trying to hide it . . . but at least I don't wet my pants . . . unless on a roller coaster.

Gone With A Handsomer Man - Review

I hit the jackpot when I won Gone With a Handsomer Man by Michael Lee West from http://www.beckypovich.blogspot.com/. This delightful new release tells the story of Teeny Templeton, a young woman in a lot of trouble. When her x-fiance´ is murdered, she finds herself set up as the prime suspect, so she turns to an old high school boyfriend turned lawyer, but the flame's not out. The book is complete with well-developed characters, a multi-layered plot, and the charm of cooking in Charleston.




You may learn about author Michael Lee West at http://www.michaelleewest.com/content/index.asp or check out her book trailer below.

 

Paul Revere and Other Myths

Our Next President?

I recently had a story published in AppleSeeds Magazine about Paul Revere's ride. According to Sarah Palin, I got my facts all wrong. Paul Revere rode up and down the streets ringing a bell to warn the British that we were going to lock and load. What's even more amazing is that I actually met someone who tried to convince me that Palin was right! If that's the case, we can change all kinds of historical events to meet our needs. Hmm.

Did you know that our fore fathers started the electoral college not because they believed the commoner wasn't smart enough to vote but because starting a college would get them more prestige, better paying jobs, and noticed by the ladies? That's right. Unknown to the public, the electoral college is actually a place of higher learning. Where else would folks learn how to make those powdered wigs?

And the crimes of taking over land from the Indians is all a myth too. They gave it to us because they liked how we taught them how to hunt, fish, and pop popcorn. We even showed them how to add sugar, salt, and preservatives to make this healthy food stick to ones insides and make one fat. Next, Indians enjoyed pilgrim led aerobics instruction.

 We were also overly kind to our Japanese citizens during World War II. We sent them off to fine spas where they got to enjoy saunas, steam rooms, and sushi. Then we taught them how to play soccer, a sport that originated in the United States, so they could all become brilliant soccer moms like Sarah Palin.

So remember, vote Sarah Palin for President. Humor bloggers need her stupidity to keep the jokes coming. If you want more laughs, here's a link to Steve Colbert's incredibly funny clip. http://www.colbertnation.com/the-colbert-report-videos/388583/june-06-2011/paul-revere-s-famous-ride



If you like Catch My Words, please click on the white picket fence or the snippet. Thanks!

Our Wedding Hop

It's been a lot of months since my husband's friend entered into a second marriage, a year since our son's friend tied the knot, and another year before that, we had attended my nephew's wedding. Being the social outcasts that we are, people aren't banging down our doors to spend time with us. However, something odd happened on Memorial Day Week-end: two of our good friends' daughters got married on the same night, starting at the exact same time, and we successfully attended both weddings!

Knowing that one ceremony would be conducted in the most judicial of manners without much foofaraw, we attended that one first. The bridal party stepped about ten feet into a beautiful, plant filled room, and said your basic English vows--without the word obey. Somehow that important word for grooms has slipped out of the current vernacular. The groom said, "Ouch!" when his beloved slipped the ring on his finger, and she didn't even slap him. My husband thinks she hurt him with the ring, but I took it as him making fun of his new state of holy matrimony. According to Papa-In-Law it was a little of both. He'd burned his knuckle the other day but also has a great sense of humor.

After the vows were complete, we hopped in the convertible and drove a few blocks to the Botanical Garden where the 5:30 wedding had not even begun. We arrived in time to sample a few amazing appetizers, then watched men in black hats dance the groom to the bride so that he could lift her veil and make sure he was marrying the right sister. However, with the bride being a triplet, I have never been able to tell her from her sister anyway. Hopefully, he married the right gal.

The beautiful wedding included a long walk, maybe half a football field, through an outdoor area and Jewish customs such as the bride circling the groom seven times, chanting Hebrew verses, and a smash of a glass. The marriage was conducted by the groom's Orthodox Rabbi father who lives in Israel; however, the groom does not practice Judaism to the degree of his family.

After the vows were exchanged, we hopped back in the car and headed to the first wedding. We enjoyed visiting with a fun crowd and eating fried sweet potatoes; however, I didn't have any of the bacon-wrapped shrimp that I couldn't have gotten at the other wedding. The music was upbeat with Cee Lo, Sweet Home Alabama, and YMCA.  In fact, one dude walked around with an afro wig while the DJ had the folks on the dance floor wearing Village People Hats. The party was a lot of fun, but the other wedding would be serving dinner at 9:30, so we hopped back into the car and off we went.

We arrived to a New York band playing cultural music while people danced on two sides of a wall: men on one side and women on the other. The waiters served a wonderful trout dinner, and then the wall came down. The religious folks left the room while men and women danced together to rock hits. This was the compromise the groom had agreed upon with his family. Amazing!

Needless to say, we had a lot of fun and only missed two notable events: seeing our friend's weird solo dance and the second couple hoisted in the chairs to the tune of the Hora.

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

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!

A to Z and Back Again

It's already June, which means the Z to A Challenge has ended. A month ago, I reflected on the A to Z Challenge, and now I must reflect again. On the plus side, it's been wonderful having a theme to guided me through the blogging world--the hardest part about blogging is knowing what to write about. A-Z and Z-A has made topic choosing easier.

I have also become an expert at choosing titles to fit the given letter. For example, "From Cage to Convertible" a letter C story about adopting a dog; "Nah, I Won't Do That," an N post to fit the "Laughter is the Best Medicine Blogfest"; or "Oh, No. Not Again" my O post about an annoying Russian dating group who Skypes me. Although these topics have nothing to do with the letter they represent, I've found a way to make it work just like one closes an overfilled suitcase. You sit your tush down and make it happen.

Also through this challenge, I've had the opportunity to visit wonderful blogs and meet great followers. I've also met one foul-mouthed screwball, but that's another story. ;-)

On the negative side, everyday blogging is not necessary. Most people don't make rounds everyday, so why write so much? In fact, my Saturday posts received the most hits because folks had two days to explore. I would like to continue blogging regularly, but leave a new post up every other day.

I hope y'all will continue to visit even though the challenges are finished. Seems like just yesterday, it was April 1st and I was interviewing Agent Harold Baer for my first A to Z post. If you haven't read that one, it's one of my most popular posts. It's especially helpful for you writer types, like me, who are trying to get published. He's a wonderfully unique agent! Check him out.

If I could get you to read any post from April or May, I would like for you to read B for Backing Israel because there are a lot of facts I'd like the world to know about this fragile situation.

Thanks!
Joyce

Wordless Wednesday

Animal Abuse?

This is what our daughter does to our poor dog!

Definitely Dog Abuse

Acrostic Success

With the GBE 2 Blogging Challenge, I've been asked to blog about what success means to me; however, I still need to post my post for the letter A -- so here it is, an Acrostic poem all about success. Aren't you impressed?

S = Sliding out of bed in time to get to work in the morning (when it's not summer vacation).

U = Under arm deodorant that works all day long.

C =  Coughing or sneezing without throwing out the back or losing body fluids.

C = Catching crap without slugging the person giving it to you.

E = Eating without dripping on the shirt or choking.

S = Safely walking in heels.

S = Stating what success means by coming up with something to meet each letter in the word "Success!"

Can't wait for the next challenge. Thanks to Elizabeth Grace at Word Nerd. Come join us http://www.word-nerd-speaks.com/2011/05/gbe-2-blog-on-week-2-topic-success.html

Also, if you have not read my previous post, "Backing Israel," please read because it is important that everyone is well informed of the situation in the middle east.

Backing Israel

With Barack Obama's recent request for Israel to return land acquired from the 1967 war to the Palestinians, Israel has been victim to much undeserved scrutiny. First off, let's look at why giving up the 1967 borders would not be in the best interest of Israel nor the United States.

Beautiful area outside of Haifa

In 1967, approximately 465,000 troops from Egypt, Syria, and Jordan prepared to destroy Israel with a massive attack. Israel fought a vicious battle through preliminary air strikes that took out troops from above. The Israelis won this war, in which they were strongly outnumbered, in just six days. According to Wikipedia, "Opinions vary on whether this was an act of aggression or a preemptive strike." Good grief!

Why would any nation attack three countries when so outnumbered if it weren't for self-preservation? Plus, the opposition had outwardly said that they wanted to enter into a battle of annihilation. Since Israel's formation in 1948, she has repeatedly tried to negotiate peace with her neighbors and fought for the right to exist. So don't even think of saying Israel was not trying to save herself in 1967.

Through the 1967 war, Israel acquired the West Bank and East Jerusalem from Jordan, the Golan Heights from Syria, and the Gaza strip and Sinai Peninsula from Egypt. Obama wants Israel to give this up? We acquired Texas from a battle with Mexico. Should we have to give up Texas too? At least if we did give up Texas, the very existence of the United States would not be in jeopardy.

Jerusalem

As Benjamin Netanyahu said when he addressed our congress, he is willing to make painful compromises in the name of peace, but Jerusalem must never again be divided. Only when controlled by the Jewish state has Jerusalem been open to world tourism. Being a most significant area, it is important that Christians, Jews, and Muslims from all over the world be able to come visit this place of religious significance. When Jordan controlled this area, no one was allowed to visit. He went on further to say that the Palestinians need a homeland and he recognizes this, but they refuse to recognize the right of Jews to have a homeland too.

Although it's been almost a week since Netanyahu addressed congress, I have yet to hear a Palestinian leader come forward and state that Israel has a right to exist. Now stop and think about this for a moment. All the Palestinians have to do is acknowledge Israel's right to exist, and they will receive land and peace, and they have not done this? In light of this fact, many people are saying that the problems in the middle east are all Israel's fault. How can Israel expect to give up land to people who refuse to acknowledge their right to exist? What would giving up land accomplish in the name of peace, when the Palestinians refuse to recognize Israel? Would giving up land change anything when the Palestinian leaders refuse to say six words? Israel has given and given to the Palestinian people and nothing has changed. Remember the news reports that showed films of the Israeli soldiers dragging it's own people out of their homes so Palestinians could move in? These folks were crying and screaming when removed from their homes, but it was all in vein.

As for giving up the Golan Heights to an enemy, this would be suicide! Back before the six day war, Syria used the Golan Heights, with an average altitude of 3,300 feet, to cascade missiles down on Israeli citizens. If one stands at the top of this area, all of Israel is in view. If someone stated that you do not have the rights to exist, would you give them the mountainous land that overlooks your nation? I don't think so.

Another point, is the Jewish settlers who live in regions acquired from the six day war. To give up this land would mean uprooting approximately 250,000 people from their homes simply because they are Jewish. We have a word for this: ethnic cleansing!

Beach at Eilat

Although Palestinians lived in land that was captured during the six day war, they have not been forced out of their homes. In fact, Israel has bent over backwards trying to allow them a normal lifestyle after their land was acquired by a new government. The only changes were that Israel required that school text books be purged of anti-Semitic language and anti-Israel wordings. Israel provided economic assistance and allowed these areas more rights than what they had under Arab rule. The people were allowed free travel to Jordan, and during the elections women and non-property owners were given the right to vote for the first time ever. Furthermore, Arabs were allowed to choose whether they wanted to be citizens of Jordan or Israel. If they chose Israel, they were recognized as citizens and given the right to seek representation in the Knesset.

I've also heard United States citizens complain about the money that the United States has given in support of Israel. The reality, this is just a pittance in comparison to what it would cost our nation if Israel did not exist. As the only democracy in the middle east, Israel has patrolled the area, so that we don't have to. The cost of placing our troops in the middle east and making sure these nations do not attack us, would be astronomical!

Furthermore, our friendship with Israel has improved many of our military weapons. We send our weapons to Israel, their scientists improve their construction, and they send them back to us. This alone is worth millions.

campus at Haifa University

As for Israel being a democracy, they most certainly are, but not to their advantage in some respects. If you think the fighting in our congress is bad, check out Israel's. Although we have multiple parties in our nation, only two have any real say in the running of our country. This is not the case in Israel. They have multiple parties represented in their Knesset. Citizens do not vote for the person but rather the party. As long as a party gets a vote of two percent of the population, they may acquire representation in the Knesset political assembly; therefore, multiple parties of varying platforms are all represented in their house. In fact, there are several people serving in the Knesset whose platform is the destruction of Israel! Israel allows these people to have a say too. Could you imagine electing someone to congress who has strongly stated that they want to destroy the United States? That's what Israel does in their true democracy!

Finally, much of the news toward Israel has been slanted against them. I even wonder what exactly Obama did say as opposed to what the media claims he said. After he made his damaging comments, he addressed APAIC, an Israeli pro-lobby organization that met in DC, and received a standing ovation. Why would APAIC applaud Obama if he made awful claims against Israel? I have to wonder.

My daughter is just now finishing up a semester abroad at the University of Haifa. Enclosed are a few photos that I have stolen from her blog. If you'd like to see more beautiful pictures and read about her experiences, you may visit her at http://ahavahfromisrael.tumblr.com

From Cage to Convertable

Honey Bear

We just added a new member to our family, Honey Bear. No, we didn't name her that, but I believe she knows her name, so we may be stuck with it. We've only had her a few hours and we've already fallen in love. She's a friendly, lovable golden retriever who gets along well with our other dogs and loves riding with the top down in our convertible.

Three-year-old Honey Bear was given up by her family when a new baby entered the home and they couldn't take care of her. As my daughter and I walked through the shelter, we spotted walls and walls of other dogs in tiny jail cells. These unwanted dogs weren't lucky enough to have a new home to go to. Some barked while others slept, but they all looked like they wanted out. When the employee let Honey Bear out of her cell, she went nuts. She darted laps around the outdoor area while wagging her feathered tail.

Honey Bear

I wish we could have taken the whole lot of them. It breaks my heart to see so many dogs that no one wants, but this is not the only prison for the homeless. In our search for Honey Bear, we visited the Memphis Humane Society. Many of those dogs are free to anyone who will have them due to an angel grant.

Millie

Three years ago we adopted Millie, a terrier mix, who has been so grateful to have a home. These rescue dogs are even sweeter than other dogs because somehow they know what their new owners have done for them. So why not? Go out to your nearest pound and bring home a friend. A furry friend is waiting for you.

near "DEATH" experience

I almost died at the age of seven. Sure, we all use the expression "almost died" or "could have died," but this was no joke. It all started when my sister took me to the grounds of Concordia Seminary where she helped me perfect my bike riding skills by having me circle the parking lot. Once I got good at it, she encouraged me to ride down the hill toward the street.

1960s Schwinn

This wouldn't have been a problem for most kids, you just put your feet on the pedals and coast your way down; however, I didn't have the concept of coasting. With full pedal pushing strength, I flew down that hill. I enjoyed the wind in my face and the thrill of the fast ride until I neared the bottom and spied a car headed straight at me.

In a panic, I pumped the break with no luck because at such a fast speed, one does not stop easily. Now here comes the weird part: right as I was set to plow head first into the car, someone grabbed the handlebars of my bike and moved me out of the way. No one was there.

So you're probably thinking I'm nuts, insane, crazy, or just plain coo coo, but I swear, someone pulled my bike out of the way of that car. No doubt about it. My bike moved to the left, and I crashed into a grassy hill, which gave me two bloody knees. That was no big deal since I rarely saw knee skin throughout my entire childhood anyway.

My sister told me how brilliant I was for turning the wheel of the bike. I didn't turn the wheel. I'm not sure who did. Maybe it was an angel, or a relative who was never more or not yet. No telling about that, but one thing's for sure: I was not meant to die at age seven.

Ear Infection

Can you hear me now?

I'm not sure what I did to deserve this. Maybe it has to do with me riding around with the top down on my convertible. A piece of debris must have flown inside the ear canal and voila. Or perhaps I got dirty water in my ear from swimming, except I haven't swum in months. Whatever I did, my left ear was infected big time and a sticky white substance that alien visitors would be most interested in dripped down the side of my neck. I was up all night with throbbing pain and couldn't hear a lick out of the left side. I probably couldn't hear a scratch, blink, or tail wag either. I mean, who listens to licks anyway?

Before the throbbing came itching and clogging. My doctor put me on a Z-pack; but it didn't work, so a needle hacked into a private part of my anatomy. My hip hurt almost as much as the ear. In fact, I was in so much pain that I went to the pharmacist in the medical building because I didn't think I could stand the wait of driving to Walgreens.

The pharmacist put the pack just out of my reach while typing in my information. He had the prescription, he had my address, he had the credit card, so why couldn't he let me have one little drop of relief? I asked him with a pleasant please, and he said, "No!"

After staring at the pack a little longer, I lost it. Tears of pain shout out of my eyes and I said something I regret. Mind you, people who have been up all night and in pain are about as much fun as a funeral. The nasty women behind the counter showed no sympathy. She and her bullies yelled at me and told me all about people in pain with broken arms and what not. Plus a lady threatened not to give me my meds at all. A little compassion to a hurting, cranky person could have worked miracles.

I finally ended up at the ENT just in time to prevent a trip to the emergency room. He dug crud out of my ear while I cut off circulation to a kindly nurse's fingers. I then received adult pain meds, antibiotic drops, and pills. $250 later, I was cured. I hope you never experience the pain of an ear infection . . . unless you're the pharmacist at St. Francis Hospital.

:o - Did I really write that?

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??