This Celebration Will be Short-Lived!

            Boy, it has been difficult trying to decide what to blog about.

            That’s because I try to avoid political topics but at the same time want to scream with utter delight that our state’s  (South Carolina's) presidential primary is past, i.e. the phone calls and television ads are gone.

            For a while, any way.

            Oh, yes, they will be back.  I don’t know exactly when they will start again.  Perhaps August.  More likely we’ll be flooded starting in September and going through the November election.

            Having the primary over with makes it awfully appropriate that we’re in the midst of “National Clean Out Your Inbox Week.”

            You see, the political infiltration didn’t stop with phone calls and TV ads; the candidates and/or their campaigns and representatives filled our computer’s inboxes. 

Many of us were notified every time a local “anybody” endorsed a candidate.  We got e-mail to let us know where candidates were speaking and eating – and shaking hands and riding their buses and caravans, when their spouses were joining them or where the spouses would be speaking.

This week also just happens to be “No Name Calling Week.”  Boy, we could have used that last week or the whole last month or even always and forever.

Since I’m always so intrigued by these off-the-wall observances, I guess it’s only appropriate to point out that Sunday is “Curmudgeons Day.”  The Free Dictionary (online) defines a curmudgeon as “an ill-tempered person full of resentment and stubborn notions.” 

The way campaigns are run these days, the way so many politicians bellow out about other politicians, the phone calls, the e-mails – these all seem to turn me into a curmudgeon.

Maybe that’s why I think another special observance this week is fitting when talking about politics. 

Friday is “Thomas Crapper Day” – and I’ll make no other comment about that.

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PS -- Make no mistake about it; I love our country and I still think we are fortunate to have the right to vote.  Still, I'm somewhat of a curmudgeon with the political atmosphere as it is.

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Football, The South, Gadgets & Men

The Duppster – that’s hubby Karl Duppstadt a/k/a Dupp – grew up in Pennsylvania. 

That means he, like many others who didn’t have the privilege of growing up in the South, doesn’t realize that real football is played at the college level and at the high school level.  He thinks real football is the NFL.

In fact, I’ll never forget the time we drove by a recreation department football game involving elementary school children and saw folks tailgating at the game.  He thought that was hilarious.  Dupp just doesn’t get it that football starts at an early age around here, and it’s important in the Southern life cycle. 

Anyway, back to Dupp and watching the NFL on television.

Someone once said, “Men are simple things. They can survive a whole weekend with only three things: beer, boxer shorts and batteries for the remote control.” 

I’ve always thought the remote control alone was probably enough for The Duppster.  That was until this past weekend.

Dupp was watching NFL playoff games.  He doesn’t use the remote as frequently or repetitively  during football games as he does other times, so he had no reason to practically squeeze the remote control every moment.

I guess that freed up his hands and he felt the need to have those hands doing something else.  I glanced over at him – and laughed.

While watching the game, he also was using his laptop computer, his cell phone, an iPad – and he had one of those contraptions in his ear that I believe is called a Bluetooth or something like that.  That was four – as in “one, two, three, four” – different electronic devices in addition to the television.

No doubt, that’s why he hadn’t answered anything I asked him.  He was carrying multi-tasking to its highest level.

He probably didn’t even know I was in the same room until a flash of light let him know I had just snapped a photo of him with all of those contraptions. 

Thank goodness for electricity and batteries, huh?

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Ah, the Spine!

           By the time anyone reads this – assuming anyone ever reads my ramblings – I should be feeling a great deal of relief. 

            The surgeon took care of my upper back, shoulders, neck and, yes, even my head bright and early Monday morning.  I was ready for the knife.  Heck, he could have used the hammer or an axe or any other implement of his choice if that’s what was needed for relief. 

            I had gotten to the point that I couldn’t look from side to side without turning my whole body.  There was no comfortable position for sleeping, sitting or standing, which, of course, didn’t leave many options. 

            The doc said that much more and I would have had trouble using my arms, hands and fingers.    That concerned me, because I’ve never been very good at playing the piano with my toes.  I know; I’ve tried. 

            I’ve had two previous surgeries to the lower spine; this is the first to the cervical spine/neck area.

            Aside from bringing about relief, the really good news about all of this is that it means I actually have a backbone, unlike some of the politicians around us.

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Photo Hunt - GATHER

Note: If you haven't had a chance to read the post below this one, take a moment to do so. If you can read it without laughing, you're just -- well, I don't know what. It's hilarious!
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This week's Web Photo Hunt topic is "gather."

Many in our family gathered together on Christmas night. Wish the entire family could have been there but grateful for those who could gather together. 

This one is Christmas 2009.

Here we are in 2008.

And here in 2006.

We're not very original in our setting for gathering for Christmas photos, are we?  Not everything else is constant, though; the family changes for various reasons  - death, birth, marriage, divorce. 


Gatherings from others in the Photo Hunt are here.


Note:  Don't forget to take just a minute to read the previous post for your giggle of the day.



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Just hilarious! See if you can read it without laughing . . .

Mom forwarded this.  It's so funny that I just had to share: As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although his kids' stockings overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty. One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go, you'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, 'What does this do?' 'You're kidding me!' 'Who would buy that?' Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. 'Love Dolls' come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for 'Lovable Louise.' She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a 'doll' took a huge leap of imagination. On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours. The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that had made him VERY happy, but had left the dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her pantyhose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner. My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. 'What the hell is that?' she asked. My brother quickly explained, 'It's a doll.' 'Who would play with something like that?' Granny snapped. I kept my mouth shut. 'Where are her clothes?' Granny continued. 'Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran,' my brother said, steering her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. 'Why doesn't she have any teeth?' Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, 'Hang on Granny, hang on!' My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, 'Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?' I told him she was my brother's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home. The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the mantel, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car. It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. I can't wait until next Christmas.

May You Live Christmas

Surprise! It's Photo Hunt on the Web

This week's word for Photo Hunt is SURPRISE.

Harrison was surprised the first time he bit into a lemon.  Can you tell?

To see other Photo Hunt surprises, click here.