Keep Your Eye On The Ball Folks

While you're being distracted with either eating the best chicken nuggets today or saying you'll never eat at Chick-Fil-A again, something else is taking effect.

Only Catholic Churches are exempt.

That's ONLY CHURCHES.

Catholic Universities and Charities are NOT exempt. They've DELAYED charitable institutions until after the election.

So, while everyone is concerned that Chick-Fil-A is able to express their speech and religion, today anyone who believes that abortion is murder is now REQUIRED to pay for abortion producing drugs.

I won't, but I am really REALLY wanted to post one of those horrible pictures of those precious lives that have been slaughtered. Instead, I'll post a pic of the newest member of my family, my great nephew, CnC's first grandbaby.

How anyone can believe our First Amendment rights are not under attack is beyond me.

So eat the chicken or don't eat the chicken, but pay more attention that today, if you are a pro-life business owner that has self-funded insurance, you are today REQUIRED to pay the entire balance of someone else's decision of aborting a baby.

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you." Jeremiah 1:5

"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances."

11 Minutes and Counting

Until the Opening Ceremonies.

So, enjoy.  (Dang it.  I uploaded the wrong video the first time).  This one's better.

Beans Don't Burn On The Grill

"Took a whole lot of tryin'.
Just to get up that hill."

Sounds like George Jefferson was an evil capitalist.

Now imagine if someone told Mr. Jefferson,

"Look, if you've been successful, you didn't get there on your own. You didn't get there on your own.  I'm always struck by people who think, 'Well, it must be because I was just so smart.' There are a lot of smart people out there. 'It must be because I worked harder than everybody else.' Let me tell you something: There are a whole bunch of hardworking people out there. If you were successful, somebody along the line gave you some help."

I applaud you George.  You DID get there on your own and you ARE entitled to enjoy that DEluxe apartment in the sky. 

"Now we're up in the big leagues,
Gettin' our turn at bat.
As long as we live, it's you and me baby,
There ain't nothin wrong with that."

No there is NOTHIN' wrong with that.

God love ya George.

(Dang it.  Andrea Tantaros beat me to this.  I wrote this the other night when Sherman Helmsley passed away and I didn't publish it.  Tonight's One More Thing on The Five included the theme song and talking about George being a capitalist.  I could have claimed she stole my idea if I had only published it first.)

My New Job Opportunity

Just received in the email today.  Yeah, I think I'll jump right on this one.

Hello,  (No, I didn't even blank out my name, there was no name after Hello)

We would like you to pay attention to the following job offer.

Our company is called Worldwide Electronic Retailing Shipper incorporated. We are currently recruiting employees to fill in the position at courier service department. We have an online department looking for employees on the internet, so if you have received this letter, that means that your CV has been seen on the web by the online recruiting department managers.


WERS inc is a European company based in Poland that provides retail sales of products(mostly modern electronic devices) and selling it to European customers. We are growing and continue to develop since 2005.

The position we offer you will include receiving the products and shipping them out.


You will be required to receive shipments via FedEx, UPS, and send through USPS.


There are no investments from your side. Company provides pre paid shipping labels. Your pay is monthly and it is $60 per each package rate with $1500 minimal guaranteed amount. After first and second month of successful cooperation, we provide the modern devices as a bonuses for each of our employees. (Apple iPhones and Mac laptops, Blackberry phones and Sony Vaio laptops).


The requirements are:


- be available to work on PC with internet access
- have day time contact phone number
- 18 years old minimum
- constant shipping address

Mostly all packages are not big and will not require any special storage place.
If you are interested, please contact us via email.

Imagine If You Will

That you are sitting at your desk one day when your assistant walks in terribly upset.

He begins to tell you a story about witnessing a horrible act, an obscene act.  One that would bring shame to your organization.  But you hesitate.

Surely your assistant is wrong, surely a guy you've known for years is not doing something so unspeakable to young boys.

So you do what your position requires. You tell your immediate boss.  And that boss decides to do nothing. 

Nothing.

That's best, right?  Why would you want to jeopardize your organization's reputation? 

But deep down, you know that's not right. 

MAYBE, perhap just maybe you might go along with that.  Assuming that the problem would not be allowed to continue.

But it does. 

And you do NOTHING to stop it.

Nothing.

Maybe you could justify one instance.  Maybe someone has a talk with the bastard who could not only do something so vile, but do it openly, in the showers of the school.  Maybe you could talk yourself into believing that it would stop.

But then you could not blind yourself to the other boys that came along.  Those that were becoming close to the monster you KNEW would rape them.

If you were a "good man".  If you were truly someone to be admired.  If you did not believe your almighty football god outweighed the evilness of permitting more rapes of innocent, needy young boys.  If you were not even a good man, but at least a decent man, an average man. 

What would you do when you realized the second boy?

What would you do when you heard another story, of someone else realizing what was going on?

What would you do when you are discussing the situation in email exchanges with your bosses?

Would you justify that you did only what was required of you?  Would you say to yourself in the mirror each morning that you should not report the incident to the cops because it would embarrass your school and ruin the school's reputation?

Would you know all that and still watch another young man's life be ripped apart and you did NOTHING?

For THIRTEEN YEARS???

Were those 111 wins THAT important to you Joe?  That you would not just sell out your own soul, but you offered up to the football god you loved so much innocent children who only needed help?

I might believe Paterno was a decent man, not a good man, but at least a normal human being IF he had said with the second boy, ENOUGH.  But he didn't.

And neither did the administration.  Or the assistants.  Or the janitors. 

NO ONE said anything.

What kind of evilness/vanity/ego must you possess to sell off more young boys to be raped in honor of the football god?

May the Good Lord have more mercy on your seemingly untortured soul, Joe.  He would have to be more forgiving than I could ever be. 

Please, for all you college football fans, do NOT tell me how unfair it to the school or the kids that were in those winning games.  They still got the "glory" of winning.  They still have their championship rings.  They just lost their "hero".  Who was never a hero at all.  He was a man who cared more about his reputation than preserving the innocence of a young boy.

I can sympathize with their loss when they realize their idolized coach was only driven by ego, but I cannot understand how they could be more upset over having their wins recorded as losses over what they must realize was the sacrificed young boys to the ultimate football god.

Visitor From Aurora

I'm not quite sure who it is, but occasionally I get a visitor from Aurora, Colorado.  I've wondered if it could be Lili, but that's just a guess since I know her IP address used to appear from Denver. 

Whoever you are Aurora, I just want to tell you that my prayers are with you and your community. 

Just devastating. 

I'll Keep An Eye Out For You

It was something I had considered numerous times, but I always dismissed it fairly quickly. 

Why would I want to spend several thousands of dollars on risking a surgery when I could have the same thing by pushing some contacts into my eyes every morning with no risk?

Listening to the details of having some laser slice into your cornea versus throwing on my Coke bottle type glasses that I had been wearing for more than 30 years left me feeling a bit icky whenever anyone I knew talked about how wonderfully they could see.

Years went by.  Technology improved. More nearsightedness was sliced into non-existence.

I got older.

And so did my eyes.  

I began wearing glasses in the 5th grade.  My first pair were the ugly cat's eye type.  But I was amazed at how clear everything was.  It was odd that words on the board and leaves on the trees were so......crisp.

Over the years my eyes grew weaker and weaker.  By 2006, my contacts were -9 and -8.  In clear sightedness terms that means I was practically blind without my glasses.  When I was 20 and we had a fire in my parents house, I actually ran back into my bedroom to get my glasses because I couldn't see enough to move around the house.

When my best friend had her eyes done several years ago, I was more intrigued than ever.  I swayed back and forth.  I weighed and assessed every option.  Even to the point of thinking that having my eyes work all on their own would be taxing, straining even.  I thought about the short periods of time I would not have contacts or glasses and think about how the fog of extreme nearsightedness was somehow comforting.

I know that probably sounds odd, but being nearly blind was also a security blanket.  Except for those times when I might have stepped out of the shower or gotten up out of bed and forgotten where I put my glasses.  At those times I would realize what an incredible handicap my eyesight was.   I could walk my way around the room, but I would have to feel along the counter or nightstand hoping my hands would touch the glasses so that the world could become focused again.

When I made the appointment for the consultation I asked Bob to go with me.  Normally I would never do that, I'm a big girl, I don't have to have my husband escort me to and fro.  But even making the appointment I was nervous.

The doc explained all the risks.  The odds of something going wrong are so incredibly low.  They have been performing Lasik hundreds of thousands of times (I'm assuming).  In all the years of knowing people who had had the procedure, I had only heard glowing reviews.

But listening to the risks was a bit more upsetting than I expected.  One of the risks was that the micro-flap they slice into your cornea not be complete, even though it's precisionally calculated by a machine.  If that was the case, they lower the flap and do not perform the procedure.  Bob asked him if they would go ahead and do the other eye if that was the case.  The doc explained that my eyes were so poor that he would not perform the procedure on one eye because the difference in sight would create a significant issue with my eyesight.

On the way home, my mind is screaming at me, "Just WHY are you considering this move when you can see perfectly with your contacts or glasses?"  Well, I had been needing to don a pair of cheap reading glasses in the past few years since my contacts were so strong and my eyes were getting so old.  But with plopping a pair of contacts in my eyes, there was virtually nothing I could not see far away

While I was pondering that question, Bob asked, "WHY do you want to do this again?"  It was a hard question to answer.

But I booked the appointment.

And one February morning in 2006, I gathered up my courage and walked into the Doctor's office to have my eyes sliced and lasered. 

My nerves were on high alert.  I longed for a doc who would have given me some mild sedative prior to the procedure, but that was not to be.

The procedure is performed in a reclining chair and I can't recall if there is something that might strap your head down to keep from moving.  I don't remember that, but it seems logical.

To ensure your eyes do not move, they drop some numbing drops and then have a circular suction ring literally lift your eyeball just slightly up from it's normal comfortable sitting position inside your eye socket.

Get the drift?

No?   Well, here's what it looks like.

That is the most uncomfortable part of the entire surgery.  It feels like your eye is gonna just pop right out.  This image doesn't accurately reflect the feeling of that ring lifting up your eyeball. 

Anyhow.

The doc lifts up my right eye.  The one with the worst vision.  One eye had horrible vision and the other was worse than horrible.  As he narratives the entire process, he begins to pull up the worse than horrible one.  The microkeratome then hovers over practicing the flap slice.  Doc thinks it looks good, and lowers the microkeratome to make the flap.  There was no real feeling, other than being a bit creeped out knowing it was slicing into my cornea (I'll be damned if I almost typed Corona. ;)  The doc then takes a light version of plastic tonges and lifts the flap.  The laser then comes over and precisely singes the cornea according to the pre-programmed prescription.

Down the flap goes and we move on.

Now comes the eye gouger.  Ooops, I mean that thingy up above that sucks up your eyeball.  The microkeratome again does a hover over the eye it's about to perform some micro-thin slice of cornea for the flap. 

Practice hover looks good, lower and slice into my left cornea.   At least I thought it sliced.  But for some reason the Doc reaches over and does a hover with the slice-o-matic over my left eye again. 

Then in the same tone of voice I hear him say, "The flap is not complete.  We'll have to do this later." 

Dead silence.

I think it was the tone of his voice that threw me off.  What?

After 10 seconds or so, he repeats, "We'll have to do this later, the flap did not cut completely."  This time the tone of his voice was different.

It had a tone of........dare I say it.....PITY.  With maybe a bit of regret/guilt thrown in.  The tone of his voice was what I grasped far greater than his words.

I remember laying there, with my eye still sucked up into that nasty eye-sucking equipment and thinking what I was hearing was not what he was saying.  I was trying to stay calm and NOT allowing myself any thought about how I might have just made the biggest mistake of my entire life.

I said very slowly, "WHAT does L.A.T.E.R mean?"  I was somehow trying to convince myself he was talking about 30 minutes, an hour, something OTHER than LATER.

He said, "About three months."

Looking back, I can tell you what I felt was probably shock.  I just took a pair of perfectly good eyeballs, sliced them both, singed the hell out of one and left the other in it's near-blinded state.

While I'm still trying to process his words, he steps on the pedal to push the reclining chair upright.  The nurse comes in, she missed all the excitement and he more or less repeats what just happened. His voice,  again was dripping with regret. 

The nurse made some sound that one makes when they hear bad news and have nothing they could possibly add to make things better.

If I had been in a better frame of mind I would have yelled at them to STOP with the pity tone.  That was so hard to hear.  And, of course I couldn't see much.  The correct eye would have a normal blurry vision for a day or so, the uncorrected one would normally be legally blind and now had some half-assed sliced flap.

They led me out of the operating room across the hall to the exam room.  I hear them call Bob into the room.

Bob's voice was light and had his normal "about to make a joke" tone.  As soon as he sits, the doc explains what happened.  Again he uses the horrible pity tone.  While I understood the doctor's regret, the tone reminded me of how the nurses talked to us after they diagnosed my dad with liver cancer.  I wanted to just run away from "needing" pity.   The doc explained that microkeratome had performed a perfect practice slice but yet did not fully open the flap when it cut.  That was why he moved the machine back over my left eye again to see if the machine was set correctly.  It had been, but it just "blinked" on the actual slice and left a half-flapped flap.

I could barely see across the room to Bob, but he just simply said, "Ohhhh." after the doc told him what happened.  The sound of that "Ohh" was like another slap in the face.  It was another sound that made me think I had just ruined my sight forever.

After the doctor explained that after the slice of the flap would heal, they could perform PRK (on top of the cornea, not under a flap) in about three months, the nurse walked me and Bob out of the office.  She said, "I'm so sorry." as we were leaving.  I was more than shocked that she "allowed" herself to say that. 

From the doctor and nurse's reactions I could tell it was very rare that things went wrong on Lasik.  I was just one of the lucky ones. 

We drove home in near silence.  I knew that I could not see out of my left eye uncorrected at all.  They had explained that I could not insert a contact into that eye for a couple of weeks.  I had a "correct" right eye which was actually only corrected to about 20/300 because it had had such poor vision prior to Lasik.  I went home to rest (recommended even IF things had been perfect) and Bob took my cell phone with him and called my family.  I didn't want to even imagine what was going through their minds. 

Without a contact in my left eye and 20/300 vision in my right, I would not be able to drive until my left eye was partially healed. 

I attempted to use my old Coke bottle glasses with the right lens pushed out to see if I could drive, but the difference in vision and the distance of the left lens made the whole world swirl around as soon as I would move. 

Bob drove me to work the next week and when I was finally able to put a contact lens into my left eye I was able to drive. 

But I couldn't SEE.  Yes, I could see enough to drive, but judging distances was horrible and the lack of perfect vision in my right eye left clear vision something I had taken for granted.

During that time, I realized that communication is not just about hearing what people say, but about what their face is doing, where their eyes are looking.  During those three months, I found myself becoming so incredibly withdrawn at work. 

Since I could not tell who I was meeting in the hall until they got close and even then I could not tell IF they were looking my direction, I just became silent.  I rarely talked to anyone, including my friends at work.  I loved trading jabs with my co-workers, but I realized that I had relied on that entire communication skill by seeing the reaction on my friends' faces.  Without that clue, I became a recluse.

Three months later, I was again strapped into that chair of hell and they lifted the right eye flap to do a bit of correction on it and they then performed the melting PRK on the left cornea.  By the next day I had vision that worked, uncorrected.  Something I had not experienced since third grade or so.  The nurse told me later that the only other problem they had ever seen in hundreds of Lasik surgery was with the wife of a prominent Indianapolis attorney.  She never said whether they sued.  The risks were graphically detailed before I ever signed on the dotted line and I read enough to know that some doctors would have just gone ahead and performed the Lasik on the BACK of the cornea flap and would have permanently impaired my vision.

Because my left eye was corrected only once, the vision far away was not perfect, but I could read without any aid.  For the last several years I used my right eye mainly for distances and my left eye for reading.  Only at dusk was it difficult for me to see out of my left eye.

A couple months ago I finally bought myself a pair of prescription glasses.  Since it's been a few years, reading was becoming difficult and the glasses help my left eye with distances.

But instead of wearing Coke bottles, I now have a pretty pair of glasses, thin lenses with hidden trifocals.  And I don't HAVE to wear them.  Not like before, when I was wrapped into a fogged cocoon of nearsightedness without glasses or contacts. 




Yeah, that IS the right lens of my old glasses.  And this was after technology allowed the lens to be "thin".  And the picture at the top of the page is my right eye after the first surgery.  The bruising is normal after being attacked by the great eye-sucker machine.


Would I do it all over again?  I'm not sure I can answer that even now.  Those three months of feeling like I had just f'd up my vision is still hard to forget.  And the lack of being me, communicating normally with friends and family was something that stays with me.

But it feels so weird even now to have good vision without aid.  And when I put on my new cool tiny glasses, I don't feel like a nerd, I feel like I'm one of those hip chicks on TV that wear glasses to look good.

OK, maybe not QUITE that like that, but a girl can dream.

Not Just Another Pretty Face

I just happened upon this when I was researching what I thought was just a silly update I posted on Facebook about Mike Rowe making all the Captains from Deadliest Catch cry during every After The Catch episode.

Just when I gave up thinking anyone on TV had a lick of sense.



And here.



I always thought Mike Rowe was one of the sexiest men on TV, but somehow he just got even sexier.  Women love a man that can fix things, but we love men who are smart even more.

And he's one of those guys that look sooooo much better in his dirty job than he does a suit.

♪ ♫ How in the heck are you gonna wash your neck ♪ ♫

Yep.



AND the well pump's out.
Don't look behind my ears Ma.

I Couldn't Have Said It Better Myself

This morning a guy I knew from high school posted a rant of his facebook page about the "wingers" reaction to the Supreme Court's decision last week over the "Affordable" Care Act.

His wife is severely chronically ill and without health care.  She is back in the hospital requiring surgery.

In his very nasty bashing of everyone that was against the act, he stated that his payment under the act would only be $250 a month to cover he and his gravely sick wife.  I have no idea where he got his calculation, but sadly, he honestly believes it.  Of course he would be supportive of the decision because he has no concept that covering a pre-existing condition will be so expensive he will not be able to afford it.  And on top of all that, he'll be charge a "penalty", this new tax because of it. 

Today I found an article that, although I disagree with the doctor's reasoning behind thinking the act will leave us worse off, her logic of what will happen under ACA is right on the money.

And I found the article at HuffPo of all places.  Here it is below in it's entirety.

Did John Roberts Give Mitt Romney A Gift

By Marcia Angell, MD

The Supreme Court's decision to uphold the Affordable Care Act, aka Obamacare, puts me in mind of the old proverb: Be careful what you wish for. Democrats on a victory lap should watch their step, because John Roberts may have given Mitt Romney a gift. The impact on the health system will be much smaller than the political fallout, because with or without Obamacare, the American health system will continue to unravel -- quickly if Romney is elected, slowly if Obama is re-elected.


First the policy, then the politics:

Obamacare is simply incapable of doing what it is supposed to do -- provide nearly universal care at an affordable and sustainable cost. The problem is that three years ago, in his futile efforts to win over Republicans (remember the embarrassing courtship of Olympia Snowe?), Obama gutted the law before it was even passed. He made the private insurance companies the linchpin of the new system, and promised them millions of additional customers and billions of taxpayer dollars. He also did nothing to rein in the profit-oriented delivery system that rewards providers on a piecework basis for doing tests and procedures. So with all the new dollars flowing into the system and no restraints on the way medicine is practiced, the law is inherently inflationary.

Although there are some provisions to curb the worst abuses of the insurance companies, such as excluding people with preexisting conditions, there is nothing in the law that would stop insurers from raising premiums. A senior executive of the industry's trade association, America's Health Insurance Plans, told me privately that that's exactly what the companies will do if regulations cut into their profits. Thus, costs under Obamacare will almost certainly rise even faster than at present. No reform can work well or very long if its costs are unsustainable.

In fact, it is unlikely that Obamacare will ever be fully implemented as it stands. If Romney is elected, with a Republican Congress, it will be quickly overturned. If Obama is re-elected (and I hope he is, despite my disappointment in his health plan), it will come apart more slowly. But unravel it will, as costs rise and it becomes clear that there are still tens of millions of Americans priced out of the system.

Here's how the unraveling will look:

Many of the uninsured who are subject to the mandate to purchase private insurance will choose to pay the penalty/tax instead. That will lead the insurance companies to raise their premiums, demand that the penalties be greater, or both. Deductibles and co-payments will increase to the point that many people will have insurance they can't afford to use. (This is the case in Massachusetts.) Many employers will simply stop offering health insurance, since our high unemployment means workers no longer have the leverage to demand it, or they will stop insuring dependents (thus avoiding having to cover grown children to age 26). In addition, because insurers have a strong financial incentive to evade the new regulations requiring them to take all comers, it will take a huge bureaucracy to monitor them.

Next year, states are supposed to set up insurance exchanges to pool risks and offer a menu of approved insurance plans for individuals and small businesses. But they are unlikely to be functioning by 2014, as called for in the law, either because Republican states simply refuse to set them up and hamper federal efforts to step in, or because of the administrative complexities. Some states may also refuse to accept the funds to expand Medicaid, as called for in the law, since the Supreme Court found that they could opt out without losing their existing federal Medicaid funding. Here again, the bureaucracy necessary to aid and monitor state compliance will be huge, diverting resources from health care. In addition, there are likely to be multiple legal challenges to nearly all provisions of the law.

Obamacare partially offsets the costs of federal subsidies to insurance companies and Medicaid costs by cutting Medicare reimbursement to providers. That means hospitals and other health facilities will take a hit, and many are already struggling.

So that's how it will unravel. There will be efforts to patch it up as we go along, but because Obamacare leaves our current inflationary system largely in place, they are unlikely to be successful.

Now for the politics. Even though the Supreme Court decision will have little long-term effect on our health system, the political ramifications will be great. To be sure, it's a victory for Obama, but that will be evanescent. Now the Republicans are on the offensive, and greatly strengthened by John Roberts' insistence that the mandate is a tax, not a penalty. Remember how hard Obama tried to avoid the T-word? Republicans are adept at painting Democrats as tax-happy, and Roberts has helped them to do just that. Pundits wonder what got into the Chief Justice. Was he just trying make the Supreme Court appear to be above politics, given all the recent evidence that it's not? Or did he do a favor for Romney and the Republicans?

It's very hard to read, but I think the Democrats would have been better off if the Supreme Court had overturned Obamacare, and I think it would have been better for our health system, as well. The base would be energized, and Democrats would take the offensive. More important, no one would be under the illusion that the health system has been successfully reformed, as many good liberals now are. That mistake will become clear as the system unravels. Democrats will suffer the death of a thousand cuts, rather than a quick blow that could be blamed on our politicized Supreme Court. If the law had been struck down, we could have started right away to work on an effective reform.

The only way to provide health care to all Americans at an affordable cost is by instituting some form of publicly-administered nonprofit system like those in other advanced countries. After all, they manage to provide universal care at less than half the cost, on average, and their costs are rising more slowly. I have long advocated expanding Medicare (which is a single-payer program) gradually by lowering the eligibility age one decade at a time, while phasing out for-profit health facilities and changing doctors' fees to reward primary care more and specialist care less.

On July 22, 2009, Obama said in a press conference, "Now, the truth is that unless you have what's called a single-payer system in which everybody is automatically covered, then you're probably not going to reach every single individual." Bingo. Too bad he didn't hang on to that insight, and use his rhetorical skills to make the case strongly to the American public. If he had fought for single-payer health care at the beginning of his administration, while he had both houses of Congress, and mobilized public opinion behind it, he might have made it. After all, the only thing members of Congress need more than industry money is votes.

Pomp and Circumstance

Any guesses on how the title relates to the video?

Chick Flicks Are Dead

And so is Nora Ephron.

Best chick flicks ever written.

Apparently Nora like Meg. 

I'll miss you Nora.  I was hoping for some old people chick flicks given that Meg is not a young girl anymore.


H/T my friend Z.

Up On The Roof

Nothing beats the sounds of these guys as they fly over my rooftop every year.

So cool.  They are mere inches wing to wing and flying at breakneck speeds.

May You Burn in Hell

Along with the assholes who allowed this to go on for years.

God forgive me, but I hope you meet the same fate as Jeffrey Dahmer.

The Winds of Puerto Vallarta

Don't try this at home kids.



Mr. Gorbachev

Just Waitin on the Waves

Or otherwise occupied.

I'm Lovin It

I can't tell you how many pictures I have on my IPhone with this same idea in mind.    Come on, you know you do it too.

Commemorate Today

There's a Bathroom on the Right

So tell me.  And I know you've done it too.

Just how many song lyrics have you heard for years and suddenly realized you had the wrong word(s) all along?

I think it was only two years ago when I finally realized that allergies didn't knock Gilbert O'Sullivan down, but reality did.

And we laughed that my mom thought Jesus Christ Superstar was Pizza Pie, Pizza Pie and Tommy sure played a mean guitar.

And how many of you thought we packed up the babies and grabbed the old ladies to go see Reverend Blue Jeans?

I kinda knew that Jimmy kissed the sky, but too many people thought he kissed some guy.

And years ago when my nieces and nephews were little, they were sure that Ronnie Milsap wouldn't have traded one Mamaw Ree (what they called my aunt Rita) cause it meant to much to him.

So, what did you miss-hear?

Stop This Machine!

You know those moments when you slap a hand over your gaping mouth in order to keep from screaming out? 

When I watched this I noticed I had both hands over my mouth.



Thank God the toddler was okay.  While it was a stupid thing to do, it's horrible when the parents realize what has happened.

Heineken

I had just spent all morning doing what I hate. 

Shopping.

I had been to five different stores from Nordstroms to Marsh, when I realized something was missing.

As I was driving through the last parking lot, my left hand flew to grab my right wrist.  I realize it's missing.  My left hand becomes panicked.  Grasping over and over along my wrist.

I have on my favorite red jacket since it's a bit chilly on that November Saturday.  I throw the car in park and like a mad man, I rip off my red jacket in hopes that what I cannot find on my wrist could have fallen safely into the elastic sleeve of red. 

Turning the jacket inside out, frantically looking over the car seats, floor boards, between the seat and console.

Nothing. 

It's gone.

While my stomach lurches and I throw the car into drive retracing every single step I have taken that morning, I remember the first time I tasted a Heineken.

We had stopped at the island a few years before.  St. Marten or St. Maartin depending upon whether you are French or Dutch.  Six of one, half dozen of the other.

As the ship docked, we watched from our balcony the scattered storms that had just passed through.  I went back into the tiny cabin to finish getting ready for a quick breakfast and then out to replace the tennis bracelet we had bought three years previously.  We traded the bracelet at a hometown jewelry store when we got a "upgrade" (ahem) wedding band. 

Of course I loved the ring, but I also missed the bracelet.  Bob had promised that we would replace the tennis bracelet on our next cruise that returned to the island where we bought it.

Bob yelled at me from the balcony to come back out.  Out to sea was a beautiful double rainbow tossed between the storm clouds.  It was just beautiful.

Unlike other ports, we enjoy the shopping at Saint Maarten.  Our first visit found us at a very nice jewelry store where we bought the first tennis bracelet.  On our second visit we knew where we were heading.

We were strolling along the village streets when another warm downpour moved in.  We tucked under a shallow awning right next to a street vender.  Among his cart were ice cold Heinekens buried in ice.  It was barely noon.  There was no where to go and nothing else to do so Bob buys a couple of Heinekens from the street vendor while we wait out the short rainstorm.

Isn't it funny how plans being interrupted can suddenly become the best part of the memory?

I'm fairly certain that whole day would have been less memorable had it just been another sunny day.

We sipped our Heinekens along the street.  Looking back I remember how free I felt.  No work, no worries, no timeclock, no rules.  No reason not to have a Heineken with our backs along the warm bricked walls of local stores until the rain subsided.

It was the first time I had ever tasted one.  The rain made it taste wonderful.

As the rain abated, we made our way down the street to the store.  The store was narrow.  All the stores are narrow in this little village.  The salesman spotted the easy marks.  But because of our previous purchase we also knew we could get a great deal.  As we were eyeing the nicer bracelets, our slick sales guy was able to locate our previous purchase in their little handwritten book. 

Great touch.  It makes you feel important.  Rich. 

They are slick.  We kept looking over the bracelets and wavered a little when he tells us to take the bracelet out to the sidewalk to see it in the in-and-out sun.

That seems so odd, doesn't it?  Take a four caret diamond tennis bracelet outside the store without buying it first?  Yikes.  But we did.  And he was right.  The sparkle was VERY convincing.

When we came back inside, we saw two couples at the back of the store having a great time with the owner.  They were being given the royal treatment.  As Bob was haggling over the price another quick thunderstorm crops up.

We agree on a price, they are fitting the bracelet to my weakling wrist and so we wait.

We pick up on the conversation with the two couples.  Since it's pouring outside, we talk with them as they take another swig on their Heinekens that the store owner had brought them.

They are friends that have booked back-to-back 7 day cruises with Royal Caribbean.  14 days total was cheaper than a 10 day cruise.  They had shopped here several times, hence the royal treatment.

As we chat, the owner grabs a couple more beers and hand them to us while we wait for the bracelet.

Back to that November Saturday.

I retraced every single step in reverse.  Every step in the parking lots, into the stores, up the aisles, under the shelves, at the lost and found, leaving my name and number.  All the way back to my driveway and through the house. 

It was just gone.

And I wonder today just who is wearing my bracelet.  Since I left my name and number at every location, they never turned it in. 

So do they put it on in the morning and think they won the lottery or do they have just a little bit of guilt knowing that someone else lost it?

Either way, their memory is finding a bit of luck in a parking lot.  Mine is one of rain, beer, double rainbows, running outside to see the diamonds sparkle in the sun and another swig of Heineken back in the office with two other couples laughing a gorgeous St. Martin afternoon away.

The Strongest Woman I Know

He was dirty. A bit scary.

He never approached anyone, just stumbled around the tourist area.

He didn't beg.

So he blended into the background, overshadowed by the large number of other homeless people.

Close by was a fast food, independent vendor, selling hotdogs, hamburgers, all the touristy type food you expect, with picnic tables to enjoy your quick meal before moving on to see all the sites.

It's a city with great wealth and apparently a great number of homeless. The surrounding scenery was breathtaking, known throughout the world.

She was touring the city with her family. They had come a long way to enjoy the views and visit the city where she had started her family. They had seen the homeless everywhere they went and after seeing so many, they all seemed to become just a bit invisible.

Except for the Bush Man - Earns his keep by hiding behind the greenery and jumping out to scare the tourist.  Of course we watched his show and paid him for the entertainment.

When they sat at the picnic table, she was facing the homeless man. He was oblivious to her.

He was hungry and was intent on finding food and he found some.

In the trashcan.

My back was to him but to be honest, as awful as it sounds, I probably wouldn't have noticed.

But my mom did.

It upset her. Here we were, eating our food and this homeless man was picking through the trash to find something to eat. She sat down and took a bite of her food and kept shaking her head.

She couldn't eat. She just kept saying she couldn't stand it. She couldn't stand that he was digging through the trash to find food. She finally got up and said she was going to buy him something. We all pitched in money, way more than what would buy a hamburger. She ordered a sandwich or two, fries and a large drink. There was still money left over.

As she headed his way, I was determined to go with her. I wish I could tell you it was out of charity, but honestly it was because I wanted to make sure she was safe. It was daylight, but I know some of the homeless are not mentally stable.

He was sitting on a bench eating the little bit of food he scavenged from the trash as we walked up.

When I watched and listened to what my mother said, I was awestruck.

She approached him as if he was the greatest man she had ever met. She imperceptibly slightly bowed her head and quietly said, "Sir. Would you accept this food from us?" She carefully handed him the food and the money.

In the back of my mind I could hear the written words, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." It was as if she was asking him for the greatest favor anyone could ask. It was as if she was approaching Jesus himself.

Even now, the gesture brings tears to my eyes.

Happy Mother's Day Mom.   I love you.

Don't Hate Me

Yes, I'm lazy right now. But considering I wrote this nearly three years ago now, I thought most of you have probably never read this story. So I'm reposting instead of posting, please don't hate me.


To me, the joy of traveling isn't just limited to the memories of the places we have been, but about the funny stories I can recall and retell for years. I'll post a few, although some were not funny at the time, they provide my family with some good laughs. Here's the first one.

You Have A Problem.

We planned a trip to Cancun many years ago. Although we had been on a cruise before, we had never been "officially" flying into another country. Leaving Indy, they checked our ID, which back then only required a birth certificate. Since mine had been just a copy, I had gotten a state issued one for our travel. Bob had his original one which was issued by the hospital and had a raised seal.

Back in the early 90's, Cancun airport was a mess. There were several hundred people all trying to get through a very intimidating Customs. Bob had noticed when we landed that there were actually tanks at the airport and many people with military style guns.

We were novices and nervous.

When we finally made it up to the customs agent, he looked at my birth certificate and moved to look at Bob's. Hmmmm, hospital issued, not state issued.

The agent, a very large scary looking guy, shakes his head. We looked at each other. The birth certificate should have been okay, we had checked at Indy. This guy just kept shaking his head. He said, "Robert, Robert, Robert. You have a problem."

WHAT DID THAT MEAN?

We are already in Mexico, what are we supposed to do. The agent said, "Birth Certificate, not good." It was loud in the airport and both of us could barely hear the agent. I leaned forward to hear him better and he gave me a stern look and gestured with his hand for me to back up. Again, "You have a problem." Bob laughed nervously and said, "What are you going to do? Send me home?"

The agent kept gesturing with his hand as if Bob should place something else in the paperwork. Ahh, something else. Bob patted his back pocket where his wallet was. The agent shook his head, and said, "Back of the room, back of the room." Bob understood right away, He was to take his paperwork and go to the back of the room and THEN add a little something extra to his paperwork.

Then the agent told me I had to go on through the line. He was separating us. Normally I can maintain calm, but this scared me. I looked up and I could not find Bob in the massive crowd on the other side of the line.

A couple minutes passed and he went back to the agent with his newly enhanced ID. The agent opened up the paperwork, took the $20 and said, "Thank you for the tip."

Nice.

I could not wait to get out of that airport. I was afraid it was a set-up and they would also arrest him for bribing a customs agent. I kept watching for some police to follow us. We only stayed in Cancun 4 days and worried the entire time that we might have problems getting back on the plane. There were none.

Back in customs in Indy, I asked the customs agent if the birth certificate had been ok. He said it was. I told him the Mexico agent "scared us".

I was afraid if I told our customs agent we had bribed the Mexican agent he might have to arrest us. The Indianapolis Agent knew what I meant. He said, "Get passports, they won't try to scare you again."

The Cancun airport has changed considerably since that time, it's now clean, efficient and welcoming. And the next time we went, there was no problem when presenting our passports.

But even 15 years later when Bob does something crazy, my family still repeats, "Robert, Robert, Robert, you have a problem."

Toast

Re:  Previous Post

Only three full days left.  No way you can overcome this.

Saying Goodbye with Respect

After dropping Bob off at the airport a few weeks ago on his way to our place in Fort Myers, he sent a text before I got to work. His text told me about an unexpected encounter.

As he was approaching the gate, he recognized an aging man heading the same direction.  He walked over to the man and shook his hand and thanked him for his service.  The man smiled and looked grateful for the acknowledgement. 

It was the old guy's 80th birthday and he was likely wondering whether people still recognize and respect his tenure.  He served three years in the Navy when he was young.  But for the last 45 years he has been an elected official serving the state of Indiana.

Richard Lugar was elected to the United States Senate in 1976 where he continues to this day.   Senator Lugar has few adversaries, on either side of the aisle.  He's the third most senior member of the Senate and the ranking member of Committee on Foreign Relations.  There were many elections that the Democrats didn't even bother to run a candidate against him because he's been virtually guaranteed a Senate seat, much like the late Teddy Kennedy.

Earlier this year, the Marion County Board of Elections determined that since Lugar had not resided in Indiana for the past 35 years he was ineligible to vote in the state.  They finally ruled, however, that he would be allowed to re-register using his Indiana farm address, a place he never actually lived.

Those that vilified the TEA Party, claiming they were radical extremists and accused of all kinds of racist ideals are the same ones who glorify the Occupy Wall Street crowd who demands free everything.  They also claim that the TEA party faded into the background, accomplishing nothing.

Except that we didn't fade into the background.  And we only believed in less government intrusion, less out of control spending and no more business-as-usual in Washington. 

Business as usual.  To the TEA Party, that means voting for bailouts, voting for liberal Supreme Court Justices, voting for allowing illegal aliens citizenship, not voting for amendments to prevent taxpayer money from funding abortions and not voting for a ban to earmarks.  Put a checkmark behind each of those that Senator Lugar supported. 

This TEA Party that was supposedly faded into nothingness, found a GOP candidate to challenge Senator Lugar in a primary election.  This hasn't been considered for years.  And up until a couple months ago, a candidate running against Lugar was considered to have been a joke.

But today it appears that Lugar's guaranteed seat in the Senate may very well not have his name permanently engraved any longer. 

The ads running against Lugar's opponent, Richard Mourdock would leave one with the idea that he is not much better than a crook.  But an analysis of the truth of the claims against him have proven the ads are in fact a lie.  Even Factcheck.org cites the ads as blatantly false and misleading.

Some of the latest polls show Lugar trailing by 5 points.

Today I visited the county courthouse since I will be out of town on primary election day next Tuesday.

For the first time in my voting history, I cast my ballot against Richard Lugar. 

When we say we no longer want business as usual in DC, we MEAN it.  Even if it feels a little like kicking Grandpa to the curb, we mean it.

I will continue to have respect for Indiana's statesman, but he has become so ingrained into the Washington culture that he no longer holds my political viewpoint.

Respect for his service no longer means voting for someone who does not represent my values. 

We'll see next Tuesday if Richard Mourdock pulls off the unthinkable.  If he wins, the establishment GOP will stand up and take notice.  No one could imagine such an established long-term GOP Senator would be voted out in a primary election.

Had I been at the airport with Bob that day, I too would have thanked Mr. Lugar for his service.

And I would have kept my decision to vote against him to myself.  Why ruin the man's 80th birthday?

So long Dick.  With all due respect....it's time.

No Peace for Hoosiers

In the not too distant past, Indiana used to be known for its basketball.  Small town high school Milan won the state championship against all the big schools back in 1954, which was the inspiration of the hit movie Hoosiers.

My mother's hometown of two thousand was a force to be reckoned with back in the mid to late 70's when her cousin  coach took the team to the state finals twice, once winning runner up.  He coached his team to the finals against the state's largest schools.  The good people of Loogootee, Indiana adore the move Hoosiers since they can relate to the David and Goliath theme.

Fans were fanatical.  Including my mother who would nearly beat us kids to death in her excitement when the games would be on the radio. 

This small town high school basketball coach continues to hold the title of the most winningest high school basketball coach in the state.  His game was called, "Stall Ball" or Butcher Ball. 

Time stopped when Indiana's high school basketball sectionals began and it only started again once a State Champion was crowned.

_______________________________________________________________


The Indiana Pacers spent several years at the top of their game when Reggie Miller played shooting guard.  He fueled the passions of this basketball crazed state bringing the Pacers front and center of the national spotlight.

His 57 point game still stands today in the Pacer records, but that paled in comparison to 1995, when during the last 8.9 seconds of game 1 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals against the Knicks, he scored a jaw dropping EIGHT points.  That was 8 points in 8.9 SECONDS, not minutes.  He single-handedly won the game to the dismay of Miller's long time public enemy, Spike Lee.

Miller taunting director Spike Lee during a game in which Miller was forcing the NY Knicks to choke.

____________________________________________________________


But then basketball changed.  And so did Indiana's obsession.

It started back in the 1997-98 season, when it was decided that it wasn't fair that smaller schools have to battle against the odds to win a championship.  So high school basketball was divided into classes.

The term "Class Basketball" is largely uttered with a sneer on one's face here.  Instead of generating a feeling of equality, it's better known for taking the hysteria out of Hoosier Hysteria. 

The state championship is, for the most part a ho-hum event.  The exception was this year when my mother's home town FINALLY snatched up a win when they were barely on the radar screen for rankings.  But it leaves one wondering if they could have also "gone all the way" and beaten the other classes.

Loogootee Gettin Jiggy with it, a photo by Gsanvin on Flickr.

This picture captured several of my family members at this year's state championship when Loogootee won it's first state championships.  This give me hope the spark isn't dead yet.

________________________________________________________________

The next death knell came with the Pacer's reputation.  Indiana's small town, home town hero, Larry Bird returned to his native Hoosier roots becoming the Pacer's coach for three years and now as it's president.  Although he led to the team to a franchise win record, he is better known locally for allowing the reputation of the players to deterioriate.

The last several years the Pacers have become VERY well known locally for their shooting skills.

Not their basketball shooting skills, but their shoot OUTS at the local strip clubs.  It seemed that nearly every week there was some story about the Pacers being involved in late night shoot outs in the strip clubs parking lots.

In 2004, a HUGE brawl erupted during a game between the Pacers and the Detroit Pistons fans.  Three Indiana Pacers entered the stands and began a dangerous altercation.  The three were immediately suspended.  The next day, the NBA suspended Forward Ron Artest for the remaining season, 86 games.  An NBA record he continues to hold this day.

While the Pacers developed their reputation of thugs, we watched Peyton Manning, Tony Dungy turn Indiana's hysteria to football.

The next season Artest asked for a transfer from the Pacers. 

The people of Indiana were more than happy to be rid of him.  But the bad behavior of the Pacer players didn't stop. 

Then retired Reggie Miller took Bird to task during an interview, shaming him that he allowed his players enough free time that they could manage to spend half their nights at strip clubs and bar room brawls.

It will take years to repair the damage exacted upon Hoosier Hysteria.

___________________________________________________

Which (FINALLY) leads me to the whole point of this post.

Three days ago Metta World Peace, the Laker's Forward delivered an unbelievably nasty elbow to the head of Oklahoma's James Harden, leaving him with a concussion.

  

Yesterday the NBA announced Metta World Peace would be suspended seven games.

Seven games. 

Mr. Metta World Peace is well known here in this unenthusiastic basketball state.  He is none other than the former Pacer Ron Artest.  I'm shaking my head at the sick irony of his new legally changed name.

As long as the professional sports teams condone this type of behavior they can no longer expect to get throngs of fans rushing the doors to get to their precious season tickets. 

There's a reason our state convicted and imprisoned boxer Mike Tyson when he raped a young girl in his hotel room in downtown Indianapolis

We don't tolerate this behavior. 

I'm sick of hearing stories of the thugs in the professional world of basketball.

Hey NBA!!! Are you LISTENING????

This is a Public Service Announcement

Found this out over at Z's and then checked it out and discovered that there are several articles about the issue including PC World, CNET and other various sources.  I'm very cynical on these things, but all the publications about it convinced me it's true. 

Although it seems the dates may change, there is some type of malware that can affect your ability to access the internet.  It sounds like another internet hoax, but apparently this one is not.

Long story short, you can check your pc with this link.  Green means go.  You're good. 

Not really sure how widespread the issue might be, but better safe than off line.

Yes, I realize this probably really doesn't count as a real post, but I'm still adjusting to thinking all day long at work.  Gotta get my balance back between work and blogging. 

When the Truth Gets Out

Any doubts about who was screaming that night now?

H/T Bloviating Zeppelin

This Week in Indy

No.  Nothing special.

On my 5th week of working back downtown for a new client. 

This morning started off with me waving the parking garage key card at the sensor 5 or 47 times to make the arm go up.  I went in later than I normally do, so I had to park on the 4th floor.  Grabbed my purse and walked down the stairs while finding the key card to the outside office door in my purse.

Use the key card through the access door.  Up in the elevator and use a normal door key in the office door which is kept locked.  While dropping them back in my purse, I keep reminding myself to put them both on a key chain so I don't have to hunt them down. Turn on the computer and realize I left a notebook with some folders in it in my car.

Dang it.

Get the door key and the door keycard back out of my purse and put them and my cell phone in my jacket.

Back through the office door, down the elevator, out the set of double doors.  Since my back and hip are acting up again after the last Nazi-discovered selective nerve shot in my spine, I have to wait for the elevator instead of climbing the four flights.  Get out of the elevator and....

Dammit.

I forgot to get my car keys out of my purse.

Back down the garage stairs, swipe my outside door key card, ride the office elevator up to my floor, use the door key to open, grab my car keys and back out the office door, down the office elevator, push through the outside office doors, walk back to the parking garage and wait for the elevator again. 

Up the elevator, hit the button on the door of my car to unlock, grab my notebook and folders, lock the car and head back down the steps.

Every time I reach the third floor landing I'm reminded of early last week when there were two separate piles of what I want to believe to be something that comes out of a dog's tail end.  But I don't know why a dog would go up three flights of stairs to take a crap.  And it's really unpleasant when I realize that was the same location I happened upon a homeless guy walking back to his wheelchair on that same floor the day before the first pile of excrement appeared.

Well, this is not the place I thought this post would end up.  But there ya go. 

It's been cold here this week.  Well, cold is a relative term.  It's more likely average for this time of year here, but our extremely mild winter, coupled with a warm to very warm February and March and never a huge cold snap has left us feeling like we are in late May. 

The wind has been whipping between the buildings downtown this week.  If I was Sally Fields I could have taken flight.

Yesterday I was not happy with Buca di beppo.  Not only did they remove the fabulous chicken saltimbucco from their lunch menu, the price of getting a lasagna and a side salad for lunch was an arm and a leg.  If they would have just taken a leg, I would have considered giving them my left one if it finally rid me of this nasty hip spasms I've had now for a year.  They probably thought naming their daily special after me would prevent them from losing a customer.  In your dreams Buca.

Yesterday I fired off another nasty email to Safeco.  They insured my friend's SUV under uninsured motorist and their service level would have to go up a dozen levels to reach abysmal.  Late at night when I'm trying to smash their heads in vice clamps in my dreams I like to imagine they spend eternity under the needle of a selective nerve injection by Josef Mengele.

Other than that, I'm loving the new gig.  Back to the good kind of stress.