Supposedly, when my sister was a very little girl, our housekeeper Ada, used to tell my mother that Claudia was going to grow up and marry the other big name baby of the times... Prince Charles. So much for Ada's predictions; turns out Claudia married Barry while Charles married Diana. So I find it ironic that in late August of each year, when Claudia celebrates her wedding anniversary, Charles commerates Diana's death.
As it happens, I'm a sort of pseudo expert on the British Monarchy, dating from Queen Victoria to Queen Elizabeth II. Therefore, I'm pretty much hooked into a LOT of behind the scenes biographical info on each of the monarchy big shots, beginning in 1850. So hooked in fact, that once I even taught a class at the local Junior College about them. I was way too young in 1953 to watch the first ever televised British world wide event of the crowning of the present Queen. But I was WAY prepared for the next one... the marriage of Charles and Diana. In fact, thanks to them I bought my first VCR. I didn't want to miss a single second of broadcasting and to this day, I have all my monarchy tapes safely stored in case I ever have a great-granddaughter. She'll easily be able to get an A+ for including in her report a fabulous historical video. Of course it will be of no use by then, since everthing will be on DVD only, rendering VHS obsolete. But, whatever.
In the meantime, on the Diana vs. Charles deal, I definitely come down on the side of Diana. Charles is, simply put, a major schmuck. He had a remarkable opportunity to take this smitten, stunning, willing and most importantly, virginal young lady and offer to her security, devotion, love, commitment and adoration. Diana was clearly putty in his hands; his wish was her command.
Unfortunately, his wish was: to keep shagging Camilla. Thereby infusing Diana with insecurity, marital misery, complete mistrust and emotional instablility. How DARE Charles do this!! Off with his head!! (yeah, and that one, too!) His chosen Princess walked down the aisle with such promise and beauty and boom! The next thing you know, the Prince is still carrying on with (spare me) ... Camilla. Possibly the most unattractive woman I've ever seen. Is he NUTS?? BLIND? A TOTAL schmuck?? Apparently, yes. Okay... so Charles deeply loved Camilla. I get it. Then, why not this thought? UH... DON'T MARRY DIANA. That's a toughie to figure out?? Apparently, yes. Well, I too have a wish. I wish Diana posthumously takes revenge. I wish also (God forgive me) that Diana is able to take it in a really potent way; one that will absolutely floor, forever affect and viciously attack Charles and Camilla. This wish is a possiblity? Apparently no. On the other hand... I've got a really deep seeded revenge problem? Apparently yes.
So I was in the shower the other night and I had a recurring thought. What if something, God forbid, happened to me and I could no longer use my right hand? Therefore, how would I bathe myself, comb my hair or brush my teeth? Not to mention how I'd ever put on a bra. Therefore, I was thinking that the Medical Community should promote LEFT RIGHT DAY. Maybe once a month, let's say. That way, everyone, on that specified day, would try practicing all their grooming, dialing phones, whatever, using their opposite hand! Now wait... it's not altogether a bad idea when you really think about it. After lots of practice, I'll bet we'll become WAY more adept in living were we to ever to lose use of our predominant hand.
Besides, look at how much we'll save the insurance companies, once they realize we won't need visiting nurses as often. And, imagine how thrilled our kids will be, knowing they won't have to come over as much to reluctantly take over a lot of the chores we'll have listed for them. (this alone, should make our kids glow) Actually, now that I think about it, once we give the bank our new scribbled signatures, forging scammed checks from senior citizens will almost become impossible. What a deal!
I seem to do a lot of thinking when I'm the shower. Some sing. I develop ideas. Like the one I've often touted to friends whereby I'd like send a script to Woody Allen. I decided he could make a hilarious movie out of the idea that: there's a dying old man in his sick bed. Enter: family members. In order to appease all of the old guy's disappointments, the family members come over to his bed and one by one, they whisper in his ear how they (fictitiously) tell him not to worry. Everyone will be fine once he's gone. The drab, boring, single daughter tells the man how she has found the love of her life and is soon to be married to a wonderful Wall Street banker. The doofy, lazy son tells him how he's been accepted to the Wharton School of Finance, committed to earning a prestigious degree. Even the fat, introverted daughter of Cousin Mabel tells the ole codger Guess what? She's had been approached by a high fashion modeling agency who wants to offer a gastro by-pass, lose over 100lbs., document her metamorphosis, after which they'll put her on a Parisian runway! The scenarios can go on and on. THEN... LO AND BEHOLD... good news... the dying old man makes a MIRACULOUS recovery! He won't die after all!! Uh... that's the good news for Gramps. It's WAY bad news for the family since they now have to actually ACCOMPLISH all they said they would. How all that comes about, could be the makings of a simply rip roaring funny movie. Which is why I need Woody Allen to direct this. I'd die myself, were my incredibly funny movie fall into the hands of some loser movie producer who screws up the whole thing.
Apparently taking a shower brings out the best of my creative ideas. They also bring out my many fears of possible medical mishaps. Oh well.
P.S./WARNING: If ever I find out that my ideas come to fruition in any way whereby I am not reimbursed/credited as sole creator, you WILL be prosecuted. And, hopefully fined.
See this guy? He's given me the greatest chuckle since I don't know when. The only other person I can think of who would love it as much as I, is my Mother and unfortunately, she isn't alive to view him. She would have gotten such a kick out this guy... touting his trout and uh... his trout. This of course is why the internet is so great. One minute you're smiling for a friend and a camera and boom. The next minute you're around the entire world three times, in everyone's mailbox. So... there's a few questions I'm curious about:
1. Did the friend taking this picture COMPLETELY miss out on the lower trout bit?
2. Did the guy in the pict not even KNOW he's hanging out in fresh air?
3. Did the person developing the film upload the pict to the internet or...
4. Did the person taking the picture do this as a mere favor to his fishing buddy?
5. Does the guy even KNOW he's been traveling the net into a zillion mailboxes? And...
6. Does this guy's relatives know his family jewels are so exposed?
Oh... and, as for the jewels themselves... they do seem pretty gem like, don't you think? Not bad, for being someone's Grandfather. So much for fish stories. I just pray this fisherman never sees his picture on this blog. Forget about fish bait... I could become JAIL bait! EEEKS
When my son was born, I made my decision right then and there, that I would attend to him "on demand". I would feed him whenever he wanted, let him sleep as long as he wanted and pick him up whenever he wanted. For instance... to me, waking a sleeping baby borders on abuse. If the baby were REALLY finished sleeping, then the baby would be up! If a baby is crying, who in their right mind would just let the baby cry for fear of spoiling it?? Give me a break... IT'S A BABY. Hold it. Help it. Coddle it. Love it.
I'm the type who almost point daggers at those mothers who are into "training" their infants. Are they kidding?? Training 3 month olds?? That's crazy. "Sorry my sweet baby... I know you're hungry and crying but you've still got another hour and a half before I'll give you your next bottle, so uh... deal with it!" Geez... you've GOT to be kidding.
Therefore, my baby's wish was basically my command. For which I have to thank him. I decided way back then that if "on demand" was good enough for my baby, then by all means, it was good enough for me, too. Thus, to this day, I nap if I'm tired. I eat if I'm hungry. I forget about chores if I'm not in the right mindset. And, best of all, I hire help if I don't feel like doing it myself. When you get right down to it, pampering my baby was my delight; now that my baby is grown, pampering MYSELF has become my delight.
Ironically however, I am far from a demanding woman. Go figure.
Okay. That does it. When Nutri-System starts running it's TV ads (over and over, no less) showing us how the lady is back into a size 2, it's time to give up dieting forEVER. Who the F*#% do they think they are?? How DARE they show us women who have succeeded getting back into their size 4 or (gasp) 2!! If they think I'll EVER select Nutri-System after seeing who they're targeting, they're WAY off base. My rule of thumb: anyone following a diet to wear these sizes in just a mere few weeks is no one who's recommendations I'LL ever follow. On the other hand, there IS no weight loss program I'm interested in following, other than of course, my already proven high carb diet. It seems to work like a charm in helping to maintain my current personally accepted, well established chubbiness. To quote the lady in on TV, "any diet that lets you eat chocolate everyday, that's the diet for me!" Bingo. I'm sticking to high carbs.
Back then, I could hold him.
Now, he could hold me.
Back then, I bent down.
Now, I look up.
Back then, I would sing to him.
Now, I ask him who's singing.
Back then, I smiled as he grew older.
Now, I wished he were young.
Back then, I knew what was best.
Now... uh... I still do.
See that tag line below my Blog Title?? Stare at it. Glory in it. Bow to it. It took me about two and half weeks to create it.
I swear... the template for this site is about to drive me bonkers. Bear in mind, I'm sort of adept at HTML editing and coding. (the language used to create all web pages) I taught myself how to create a web site several years ago. It's mildly complicated. Or, at least it used to be. Nowadays, you can easily download web editing software and develop your own web page. Bingo. You're on your way.
Therefore, I'm not a complete dummy. Well, not until I came across this blogging template bit. It should have taken three minutes, tops, to have added those few words. No such luck. And, now that I finally DID figure it out, half the time the wording comes up correctly. Half the time it doesn't. Bottom line: sometimes you'll see it. Sometimes you won't.
Uh-oh. Just yesterday I was raving about Francine and her ability to spot a great blog when she sees one. Next thing I know, Wilma sends me an email telling me how thrilled she is that she rechecked my blog for updates. And boy, what glowing things she had to say! My God... who KNEW I was beginning to gather fans? Okay, okay. I know. They're merely being nice, but still, it's fun hearing from them. (do two kind people REALLY form a fan base??) Regardless, to prove what a sagacious woman Wilma is (as opposed to what a simply talented writer I am) I'm including the following quote: "What a hoot! I think you should take up comedy writing...try a script for a sitcom." CAN YOU IMAGINE?? If ever I were to see credits on Curb Your Enthusiasm with MY name listed, I'd have little time to celebrate. I'd fall over dead from a thrilling heart attack way before I could enjoy the moment. Let alone, before any check came rolling in. So much for easy come, easy go. By the way, see Wilma's picture? She's wearing the scarf I made for her. (yet another of my many talents, she says with humility)
In the meantime, you can well imagine how deeply I gasped when I heard that Ken Lay went to the great beyond today. Now, I'm not completely heartless, thus I do feel very sad for the loss his family must be feeling. On the other hand, talk about having to choose the lesser of two evils. Way to avoid 45 years in prison, if I do say so myself. And trust me... he deserved every day of the slammer sentence. Proving once again... timing is everything.
Being a favorite of mine has both it's ups and downs. The good news is: I really mean it when I label something/someone my favorite. The bad news is: I've got ZILLIONS of favorites, all in the same catagory, too. Thus, being my All Time Number One Favorite is an almost unattainable position. Unless you're Elton John. While I used to place him right up there with Tina Turner and Billy Joel, Elton easily moved to the top slot via some of his songs from the 90's and his incredible live performances. Yes, Tina and Billy took me to heaven during their concerts, but Elton had the best ride. Even my three favorite foods (doughnuts, french fries and Florida lobster tails) have no clear cut winner... they are all equally my favorites.
Which brings me to a favorite friend. As with other categories, I've indeed got a zillion favorite friends, all of whom I love and adore. I could never choose the All Time Number One. There are simply too many. On the other hand, today, Francine just increased her chances for a major postition of upward mobility on the list of Lists. She not only checks my blog, but also sent me an eCard complimenting me on it, telling me she actually got a kick of the Star Jones entry. (I love astute people!) On top of that, Francine is absolutely adorable and is wonderful to look at, speak to, and be with. She's definitely amongst my more brainy friends, and admittably, I do love intellect. I also love bright smiles, quick wit and fine taste. Francine has all of that. Which is why I'm bestowing upon Francine my FIRST EVER FRIEND TO BE SPECIFICALLY NOTED IN A BLOG prize. Not to mention, first ever to take over my picture spotlight. Hooray for Francine... I BEARly know what to say.
Supposedly, when my sister was a very little girl, our housekeeper Ada, used to tell my mother that Claudia was going to grow up and marry the other big name baby of the times... Prince Charles. So much for Ada's predictions; turns out Claudia married Barry while Charles married Diana. So I find it ironic that in late August of each year, when Claudia celebrates her wedding anniversary, Charles commerates Diana's death.
