Broke Tuesday

Black Friday...Cyber Monday…Broke Tuesday.

After Thanksgiving Day, did you go to the Taj MaMall looking for deals? For some…hitting the stores is part of their Thanksgiving tradition starting with…..

Eating mounds of Turkey, getting high on tryptophan and falling asleep at 7 pm…waking up @ 4am on Black Friday to nab the Early Bird specials…coming home and taking a nap…watching Football…for 3 days…dozing in and out of consciousness on the couch…and manning (not the brothers) the computers Monday morning for internet shopping, when you really should be working.

So are the sales on Cyber Monday just a marketing gimmick? I would say…you bet your sweet cyber-ass it’s a gimmick. But Cyber Monday shopping has become an American tradition…like fireworks, a lit match, and large amounts of alcohol on the Fourth of July.

As far as this Kat is concerned, any deals on Cyber Monday are given on the dregs that didn’t sell in stores on Black Friday. They would be considered Thanksgiving leftovers….like the smelly turkey, stuffing, and cranberry I still have in my frig. The real deals come in mid-December…when retailers realize they are gonna be stuck with all that gimmicky, sparkly, gadgety crap, unless they do something drastic.

Anywhoooooooo…………….

Cyber Monday basically is a designated day (probably designed by Hallmark) to create an online shopping momentum…using a type of hype that we skype. (I love a forced rhyming sequence.)

Over the weekend, I got at least 100 emails informing me about different Cyber Monday deals. But nothing that made me jump on my laptop, desktop, or rooftop.

I did notice, however, that there wasn’t one single deal or sale on a fruitcake. The fruitcake is always in high demand and commands top dollar…any time of the season….probably because of the fruitcake’s unique versatility to double as food/doorstopper.

Note to self: Remember to order a larger fruitcake for Uncle Freddy this year. Uncle Freddy has a huge appetite and extra heavy doors that need stopping.

So for those who over-indulged with holiday shopping….enjoy a good Broke Tuesday. (Not to be confused with Broke Back Tuesday.)

Pass the Turducken

How many of you out there have heard of turducken, raise your wings?

Apparently this Thanksgiving…I could have had a turducken. Instead of the usual Thanksgiving Day turkey…gobble gooble gooble…I could have feasted on the triple threat of birds…the turducken…turkey, duck and chicken.

Three birds in one…gobble, quack, cluck.

Pass the turducken, please.

When I first heard about the Super Bird, I cried foul. On the outside, the turducken appears like the usual fowl weathered feathered friend who is fattened up for our tryptophan coma. A turkducken, however, is a bird of a different feather. Inside the turducken, lurks 2 other birds quacking and clucking to get out.

For me…the description of the triple bird spurred a triple response …shock/terror/nausea. The de-boned chicken…stuffed into a de-boned duck…stuffed into a de-boned turkey…reminded me of Russian nesting dolls, in poultry form.

Question to self: What wine goes best with a turducken?

Anywhooooooooo……….

The turducken doesn’t fly with me, but a 3-in-1 dessert idea would be a lot sweeter and surely take-off. Let me propose the Munchnutake ……munchkin/donut/cake. Dunkin Donuts munchkins…stuffed into glazed donuts…stuffed into cake.

Reminder to self: Contact Dunkin Donuts with Munchnutake suggestion.

I can just imagine cutting into a Munchnutake…slicing through 3 layers of confection…initiating a triple response…salivation, exhilaration, and satisfaction. Saweet………….

Maybe next Thanksgiving I’ll work on some new side dishes. I’m thinking of…corn and peas baked inside a butternut squash…and gravy inside mashed potatoes.

Such a CAPITAL idea. We all know our food ends up in the same place anyway…and this will surely cut down on the clean-up time with the dishes.

Brilliant Kat, just Brilliant.

Giving Thanks

This is the time of year when we should take stock in what is truly important…your stock/bond portfolio.

As I was saying friends and family are what is most important. And also for me…my blog readers. I would like to take this time to offer you my Thanks for giving any acknowledgment to my blog….whether it be empathy, sympathy, telepathy, or Timothy.

I am soooooo grateful for my faithful blog readers. Without you this blog wouldn’t be possible. Without you I would be…just a pretty girl sitting on my bed, strumming my guitar, and singing my songs to my stuffed animals…(Am I sounding like Taylor Swift yet, Wishy?)

Anywhooooooooo………

Enjoy the day today...a day of college football, Taj Ma Mall shopping, and left-overs, left-overs, LEFT-OVERS.

Go Bama....Beat Auburn.

Let the holiday madness begin.

Renewed License to Eat

Tomorrow is THE day to gobble up everything in sight. So wear your stretchy pants…put extra holes in your belt…DO NOT HOLD BACK. Thanksgiving is not the day to count calories, fat, carbs, OR pieces of pie.

Consider Turkey Day to be the day you have a license to eat. As you can see my license has been renewed…yet another year.

Name: fatKAT
Eyes: Brown
Appetite: Enormous
DOB: MYOB
Legally entitled: to eat everything in sight.
Expiration: November 25, 2010 at midnight.



Anywhooooooooooo………………

From dawn until midnight…I will have my way with the turkey and the turkey will have its way with me.

I will fill and feast…on fowl.
Gorge, gobble, and gulp…the gravy.
Scarf, stuff and swallow…the squash.
Devour and down….the dressing.
Pack and pig-out…on potatoes and pie.
Consume, congest and cram…the corn.
Overeat and overindulge…the orange/cran relish.
Wolf and wallow…in wax beans.

If anyone dares to question my ravenous appetite…I’ll just flash them my license and say, “Listen Buster….read it and eat.”

Quit the Bellyaching

Sometimes we need to quit our bellyaching and grumbling....it's an easy trap to fall into. I hate to get on my high horse…or on my high (blog) chair… but sometimes we need to take stock of what’s important in life. Note to self: People are in desperate need of your advice. Write a self-help book.

Many times we have no business complaining, especially when there are real complaints to be had. Like my mom used to say to me when I was a child, “No sense in crying over spilt milk.” I thought it was a figure of speech…until I spilled milk on her rug…then we took turns crying.

Anywhoooooo........

How about the complaints from the passengers on the Carnival Cruise Lines. A fire in the ship’s engine room left them without electricity for a few days. Luckily no was hurt as a result of the fire…just heavily inconvenienced. But oh...did they complain when they reached port side.

The complaint cup runneth over with what there was to eat. It was downright unthinkable that they had to eat cereal for breakfast. OMG say it isn't so....a bowl of Cheerios and fruit…no Eggs Benedict or egg burrito? And downright unfathomable that there was salad for lunch…AND just salad and sandwiches for dinner. Thank god for the free booze to keep them from eating each other.

Naturally those on the cruise had envisioned a different vacation...so I understand their disappointment. Their Carnival Cruise wasn’t exactly a carnival or a picnic. But Carnival didn’t plan a “cruise from hell” for their patrons...where they got together and said, "Let's ruin the vacation of three thousand people and damage our reputation."

Carnival tried to compensate with a refund and also offered passengers a voucher for a future cruise. Plus…they didn’t charge them for the all the great stories they got to tell their friends.

After listening to all their grumbling...I was surprised they didn’t make the captain walk the gangplank…at fork point. Apparently cruisers are cruising for the unlimited, non-stop, 24-hour, stuff your face…feeding frenzy.

A little food for thought: With the Thanksgiving holiday coming soon (2 days…man those ovens) we should be thankful for ANY grub in our bellies…especially when there are those with real belly aching and grumbling due to lack of nutriment. And those with bellyaching due to rugs ruined by spilt milk.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye

Hear ye, Hear ye, Hear ye……..

“Friends, Romans, Countrymen, and anyone else who gives a rat’s ass…lend me your ear. Prince William and Kate Middleton are officially engaged.

With thee announcement last week of thee engagement of Prince William and Kate Middleton…Kate can stop singing the Snow White tune, “Some day My Prince will come.”

The British press says the reason for the 10 year courtship was because Prince William wanted to ‘be sure’…before he popped the question. Their courtship was so long, the Press had given Kate the nickname, “Waity Katy.”

So…I pop this question to the Brit Press…What makes you so sure Kate was in a hurry to marry the Prince?

I realize Kate is a commoner…but the Press attaches “commoner” to her name like it’s a dirty word. It’s not like Kate had to sing for her supper every night. “Please sir, may I have some more.” Kate attended private school and grew up in the countryside in a 5 bedroom house…granted she did have to cook her own dinner and drive her own car. OMG.

Okay, now that I think about it…maybe I’m wrong. (Off with my head…to the gallows I go.) Kate will become a Princess and be married to the future King of England. She will live a royal life…where every wish is her command and every pearl is her necklace. She will have literally and figuratively turned the tables from “Waity Katy” …to “Waiting on Katy.”

With her upcoming marriage to Prince William…Kate’s ship has come in with a boat load of privileges that not even Snow White could have dreamt of. Kate will soon be singing a new tune, “On the Good Ship Lollipop.”

Anywhooooooooooo……..

I got to wondering….hmmmm….What will Kate have for a last name? I’m guessing it will be “of Wales.” Like her betrothed…Prince William of Wales.

For some reason, the royals don’t have regular surnames like Middleton, Jones, or Garcia. They have names like “of York”...“of Wessex”...“of Cornwall”...and my favorite “in a can.” Do you remember that Prince? Prince Albert in a can? He was the rage when I was in 4th grade.

Opting for the Other Option

How about John Tyner, the man who refused to go through the body scanner at the San Diego Airport and yelled during his "enhanced" pat-down, "If you touch my junk, I will have you arrested."

For those of you who aren’t intimately familiar with an "enhanced" pat-down...it involves enough touching of private parts...that when it’s over...you’ll be looking for a smoke.

Anywhoooooo......

How do you feel about the TSA screening process? Personally, I don't like the time required around security...the disrobing, the dismemberment, the disfiguring...and then having to put everything back together...re-robing, re-membering, and re-figuring. But if it's gonna save my ass from being blown to shit (sorry about the visual)...I will do it.

Some feel the body scanner is invasive, violating, and even porn. Really? Porn? Hugh Heffner’s magazine would have folded pretty fast if he tried to pass off body scan pictures as porn.

There are also those who are leery about radiation. I've heard the amount of radiation received from the scanner is minimal. If you use a microwave and talk incessantly on your cell phone...you can't be that worried.

So who would opt-out of body scanning and opt for the other option...the "enhanced" pat-down? I think ya gotta wonder about the person in line for a thorough groping...especially if that person is smiling. They might be looking forward to it waaay too much.

There is a grass roots movement calling for a National Opt-Out Day to protest TSA airport security measures. It’s scheduled for the Wednesday before Thanksgiving which happens to be the busiest travel day of the year. Increased numbers of people opting-out and requiring pat-downs would cause total chaos and delay of flights. What turkeys would purposely want to change the flow of events leading up to Thanksgiving...besides the ones scheduled to be served that day?

I think those who are planning to mess up our day of thanks...should dispose of their attitudes and go with the flow. We have turkey, potatoes, stuffing, squash, and pies to gobble down. Do NOT get in our weigh.

Memory Lane

Back in Jax.

We recently returned to Jacksonville, Florida where we lived for two years when PaulA and I were a couple of yuppies. We were transferred with PaulA’s company to a brand new way of life. For us, it felt like the high life...a country club life...a life of fun in the sun in Yuppiedom.

We bought a brand new home and put a pool in our backyard...a kidney shape. We thought about putting in other, more creative shapes...but didn’t really have room for a large intestine, let alone a small intestine.

While in Jax we were excited to visit our old stomping grounds. We drove by PaulA’s office, the high rise on the St. John’s River where I was employed (yes, I actually had a real job), checked out the River Ralley where we spent contiguous, continuous friday happy hours, and drove by where Big C entered the world as infant c...at 7-11. (Her birth weight...not the birthplace of the Slurpie.)

The highlight we most anticipated...was a trip down Memory Lane. Actually Raley Creek Drive North...our street in our old neighborhood.

We entered the subdivision (neighborhoods are divided into subdivisions...so you need to be good in math while living in Jax) , passed through the entrance with the painted wooden sign of a creek. And headed down our old street....noticing...yards that needed sprucing, shrubs that needed pruning, lawns that needed grass.

And there it was...our house...just not as nice as we remembered. The house needed updating and the privacy fence was old and needed replacing. Things looked let-go, over-grown, and run-down. And like a lot of us that have aged over the years...in major need of a face-lift.

Anywhooooooooo...........

Our trip down Memory Lane...wasn’t exactly how I remembered everything. Maybe Memory Lane is best when kept a distant memory. Or after a face-lift.

Grab this blog. You're On.

I’ve decided that I prefer taking a flight during the evening over a flight during the day. The mood among the passengers and the crew is waay more festive. At least it was that way on our last flight on Southwest Airlines. My plan now is to take later flight times. Grab your bag. It’s on.

Maybe it has something to do with happy hour. Some folks tend to kick back and order a drink...which helps to loosen up the mood. I don’t think, however, the flight attendants are imbibing. There might be a few rules against that.

The Southwest attendants on our flight didn’t need liquor to get silly...they were probably punch drunk from a long day. The 3 attendants had great jokes, witty remarks, and funny punch lines. They even managed to get my attention to listen to the instructions on what to do in an emergency...and usually I’m NOT laughing when I hear about the plane going down into the Atlantic.

So I got to wondering....hmmm....Do they use these same jokes over and over on every flight? I would find out soon enough...I was among 5 passengers who didn’t have to change planes for the next flight. Sure enough...the same material.

Anywhoooooooooooo............

Although I had just heard their repertoire of jokes...I still laughed...snickered...and smiled. Hey, I know that coming up with new material isn’t easy. I can totally relate.

Usually my readers don’t complain about my material...but recently there was someone who has been quoted as saying: “nothing in Kat’s blog has grabbed me lately.” Well, if that ain’t a slap to the face, step on the toe, pull to the hair, crowbar to the knees, and foot to the butt...then what is? OUCH.

I decided to look back at my previous posts. Okay, so the blogs about the cold patient, time change, Douchy the old nun, and a toy-less Happy Meal were not entertaining. Maybe I should have melded them together... “Douchy, the old nun, died of a cold after eating a toy-less Happy Meal while turning her clocks back.”

In the future...I’ll try to come up with some grabby stuff....but until then...like the friendly accommodating Southwest flight attendants offer up... “may I suggest a beverage...with that blog?"

“ I’ll be around to pick up any remaining cups and glasses.”

The Wish Book

It’s been a while since I’ve looked at The Sky Mall Magazine on an airplane. I tend to stay away from it because I’m afraid it’s been sneezed in ten times. Anyway, during take-off on my last flight I couldn’t reach my book, so I pulled the magazine out of the front seat pocket...and risked a week in bed.

The Sky Mall Magazine, as you know, is a catalog of kitschy and schmaltzy products. I remember as a kid loving catalogs...as does my 9 year old niece, Natalie. Natalie takes them with her so often...her parents have dubbed them Natalogs.

When I was her age I loved the Sears catalog and I remember staring at it with Sister Sludge and my cousins. We’d spend hours sitting on the couch flipping through the pages of the women’s clothing section; pointing to each girl in an outfit and asking each other: “Who do you think is prettier? What outfit do you think is the cutest?”

But my favorite catalog...like every kid back in my day...was the Sears Toy Catalog for Christmas...suitably named the “Wish Book.” The Wish Book would arrive at our house in September and my brother, sisters, and I spent the next 4 months examining each toy. By the time Christmas came around...we had done so much wishing our catalog was tattered, torn, and dog-eared.

Anywhoooooooooooo............

As it turns out...I have found that the Sky Mall Magazine is the adult equivalent of the Sears Toy Catalog. It's a wish book...containing many products that promise to make you look years younger.

There were a few stand-out products...especially the one that promised an Instant Face and Neck Lift. The kit consisted of a fully adjustable elastic band and offered surgery results without the pain. Unless of course, should the elastic band snap you in the face...then it probably hurts like hell.

The Butt Pad promised “sexy curves” and was guaranteed to stay on while dancing and exercising. That’s a good thing. I’ve heard of dancing your ass off...and working your butt off...but literally finding your butt on the floor would be rather startling.

The body slimmer product sounded like a dream slash nightmare. They advertised it as a tummy tuck without surgery and you’d instantly look 10-20 lbs thinner. They promised no bumps and lumps from the torso to the thighs. But they didn’t mention the ankles. That’s probably why the ankles weren’t shown in the picture. You just know each ankle carried 10 pounds.

I thought of bringing the Sky Mall Catalog home with me and giving it to Natalie to add to her collection of Natalogs...but I have a feeling she won’t be wishing for these products for at least 40 years.

Happy Birthday, Father

This is a bring back blog for "Jerry Bring Back."

I have to tell the world about my amazing father on his 79th birthday and what better place to do it than here!

First of all, Gerald is a trivia buff. Who knows…maybe knowing the square mileage of Jacksonville, Florida will come in handy someday. He also knows everything about sports…even obscure and random facts about teams, players, and coaches. And not just with professional sports…even high school sports. Go ahead, quiz him…sports fans.

Gerald is a walking GPS who can give you directions to anywhere from nowhere and back. He even knows that everywhere intersects with somewhere in western no kidding.

He is the friendliest guy you ever want to meet and the most easy-going. That’s G.L. He should have run for office because he holds court wherever he goes. He can strike up a conversation with just anyone….and believe me he has.

Anywhoooooo……….


You should have seen Gerald back in the day when he wore his Air Force Blues. I thought he was the handsomest dad ever. And at age 79…definitely the cutest. The dog tags given to me when he was in the Air Force are my most prize possession. And every Veteran’s Day (like yesterday) I proudly wear them. I’m most proud that they say, “Kathy-Anne T.… Daughter of Gerald L. T…”

Over the years Gerald has earned the nickname “Jerry Bring Back.” When my mother buys something and later decides she doesn’t want it…she gives it to dad to return. Who would give a 79 year old man a hard time about bringing back a set of curtains? Remember, he has the cuteness factor going for him...and what would he want with swags and jabots, anyway?

My dad’s famous line growing up was, “Who loves Dad? Raise your hand.” We could be busy doing our homework, washing dishes, or watching television, but whenever he would say, “Who loves Dad? Raise your hand”…we would automatically each raise our hand and keep on doing what we were doing. Do you think we were going to deny my dad his fun?!

I loved it when my mom didn’t feel like cooking dinner and we were lucky to get McDonalds. My father and I had the special job of picking it up. I would get a pad of paper, write down everyone’s order, and then jump in the ole Tempest next to him. I can still hear that car today…sounds just like my washing machine. Off we’d go to Mickey D’s, my dad and I on a burger mission…swoosh, cchuck, swoosh, ccchuck. I remember hoping that mom didn’t feel like cooking the next week. Burgers and time with dad….it was the best.

Happy Birthday, Father. You are dearly loved by me and everyone who knows you. I could write more about how great you are, but I am having a hard time typing with just one hand. You see, my other hand is raised…high...into the air.

Toying with the Rules

I remember taking my kids to McDonald’s and buying them Happy Meals. Does that make me a bad mother? Apparently it does in San Francisco.

The city has proposed an ordinance that would ban toys with unhealthy meals. And according to their tastes…Happy Meals are Unhealthy with a capital “U.”

“They” say that the toy is used to induce children to prefer foods that may harm their health and “it is a creepy and predatory practice that warrants injunction.” Whoa. I would hardly consider a Happy Meal creepy. A toy with a burger is far less creepy than...Ronald McDonald himself.

I remember when Big C was 18 months old…she had enough language skills to tell me to remove the clown statue from the shelf in her room. When I took a good look at it…I agreed. What was I thinking? The large plastered smile of the clown looked so sinister. She was afraid of the clown…and apparently so are a lot people.

They even have a name for it…Coulrophobia, the fear of clowns…which is one of the top ten phobias…right after fear of giving a speech in your underwear.

Clowning around...by intentionally inflicting pain…while maintaining a painted smile...is frightening. So why stop there? Why not pull the red nose off of Ronald himself?

Anywhooooooooooo…….

The proposed ordinance would allow toys to be sold with children’s meals only if they had: fewer than 600 calories, fewer than 640 milligrams of sodium, less than 35 percent of calories from fat, and less than 10 percent saturated fat. That leaves out even their most nutritious Happy Meal: chicken nuggets, apple slice, and milk…37 percent of its calories come from fat.

Maybe San Fran should stop their clowning around and stop toying with all the rules.

Just in….New to the McDonalds Menu:
The Obama Value Meal
"Order anything you want…and have the guy in line behind you…pay for it."

Age Appropriate

Did you hear the oldest woman in the world died at age 114? I think when you reach the overripe age of 114, you have lived passed your expiration date and it’s about time to hit the dirt…sorta speak.

I think a reasonable age to aim for is 100. To have your 100th birthday announced on television by Willard Scott…would be an accomplishment. I know it would be for me…and for Willie. When I reach 100…Uncle Willie should be over 114.

Eugenie Blanchard, the oldest woman alive-turned-dead, lived on the island of St. Barts in the French West Indies. No wonder she lived way past 100. Island people are so laid back they write songs like “Don’t Worry…Be Happy. A life without stress has to be the key to longevity, mon.

But her Great-nephew attributed her long life to the fact that “she had decided to give her virginity to God.” Wow…and they made a movie about the 40 year old virgin. Steve Carell’s character had nothing on this woman. He was a virgin for 40 years…just a third of her life.

I wonder if Eugenie knew she was gonna die at 114…if she would have waited to take the chastity vow when she was 55.

Anywhooooooo……..

The children on St.Barts called Eugenie “Douchy.” If my kids called an old woman…(and a nun at that)…a douchy, I would have sent them to bed without their fruit snacks. Apparently “Douchy” means “sweets” in the local dialect…but it just sounds so disrespectful in most other languages. Apparently Douchy got her nickname because she used candy as a way to entice the children into religious readings. And that is all I have to say about that.

Hmmm…there a lot of (inappropriate) directions I could go with this blog…but I’ll refrain…I want to keep things copasetic…or is that Copacabana?

Instead, I will leave you with a sick comment (not mine): “I want to die in my sleep at 90 like my Uncle Goober, and not SCREAMING in terror like the passenger’s in his car.”

Fall Back

I hope you remembered to set your clock back this weekend. If not…I’m sorry that you are sitting at your desk an hour early.

The pros and cons of Daylight Savings Time have always been debated…it depends on what side of the timeline you are on. Some people profess the energy savings…others proclaim the sanity costs. The battle continues here……

The upside of moving your clock back an hour…is finding out it’s only 8am instead of 9am...and then hitting the hay for another hour. (Sometimes I like to pretend that I live on a farm.)

Another good thing with DST is that it is a good reminder time of when to change…your batteries in your smoke detectors, the Arm & Hammer Baking Soda in the back of the icebox, and the horseshoes on Black Beauty.

The worse aspect, however, is that the sun sets earlier. Today that happens at 4:38 pm…which also happens to be right smack dab in the middle of Oprah. (I like to take a break from farm chores and watch Oprah.)

Anwhoooooooo…….......

There is a good side and a bad side to most everything…but there isn’t much good about Mondays. I started thinking…seeing we can plum declare a new time...I reckon we should be able to shorten our Mondays.

We could take two hours away from Monday…and add one hour to Sunday night and the other hour to Tuesday morning. That way, Sunday evenings would be longer…leaving extra time for me to can my fruits and vegetables…and an extra hour Tuesday morning…before I have to get out and milk the cows.

Instead of dreading Mondays…people would love them because Monday would be shorter. There would be no more Monday Blues…and no Manic Monday…(and no other Monday, Monday songs that you can think of.)

I’ve come up with great ideas before…but I think this is my best yet. The simple way to beat Mondays without using a stick is to fiddle with time. Why not? We do it every spring and fall. Time now to feed and harness the horses. Giddy-up.

OUTblogged

Could there be a green-eyed monster in the room?

I know it's not a good thing to be green with envy. Jealousy is not flattering...regardless of what color you dress it in.

But I just can't help it.

katOUT has been OUTblogged.

Granted, it's not possible to be mad at the person who has out blogged me…someone who, Frankiely, shall remain nameless. But she only started a blog a week ago and on Day 3 of her blog life...she had 10 comments. Wow...10 more than I get.

Maybe it's as simple as her blog is more compelling. In her blog, she chronicles her training for a marathon she plans to run 6 months from now in Atlanta. Note to self: Readers apparently appreciate motivated, energetic athletes.

Maybe it's as simple as people can relate to individuals who set goals and are working towards them. Note to self: Get a goal.

Maybe it's as simple as her blog is interesting. Note to self: Readers apparently appreciate interesting blogs.

Anywhooooo.....

It's a good thing she is a sweetheart of a person....or I'd have to take her down.

I thought about giving you her blog address so you, too, could enjoy her blog, but like my blog readers..."No comment."

Note to self: Learn to master the art of Pogo Stick jumping. Set a goal to compete in the 2011 Pogopalooza...the extreme pogo competition next August…and write an interesting blog about my training and foreseeable crashes.

True Blue

The results of the nationwide mid-term elections sent a message to Washington. The message: a rejection of the President’s economic and Healthcare policies.

The Republican Party scored big in many state elections. Republicans gained the majority in the House of Representatives and six seats in the Senate (although the Democrats maintained their majority.) There were also impressive Republican victories in the Governorships. Nationwide we are a sea of red.

But woooah…….wait a minute….not where I live. If you are a Republican in Connecticut, you are not riding in the red wagon. Chances are you are feeling a little blue after Wednesday’s elections. In CT, all five seats in the U.S. House of Representatives, the Senate seat, and the Governorship all went Old Blue Democrat.

Let’s face it…the blood pulsing from our state bleeds blue and not red. We live in a blue state. We always have a blue outlook…and that has some of a little blue.

Republicans, are especially singing the blues with the position of Governor. On election night it looked like the governorship was going Republican, but after waiting to hear the final result the next day because of some polling mistakes (yeah, right) in Bridgeport, we woke up to find that it went Democrat.

I say let’s compromise because it is still too close to call. Let’s combine the Republican and Democratic parties…red and blue…and go Purple. Barney for Governor.

Anywhoooooooooo……………..

We could complain until we are blue in the face, beat ourselves up until we are black and blue…but we will never change…Connecticut has always been and probably always will be a blue state. You might call CT… True Blue.

So for those of us Republicans living in Connecticut…it didn’t come out of the blue that our state went all blue.

Frankly, the blue that I prefer seeing is blue Hawaii.

Perfect Cold Patient

I am on Day 12 with this nasty cold. It is so bad. How bad is it? It is sooo bad…that if I lived in Boston, I’d be calling it a Monsta Cold. (Fenway's Green Monsta brings up other images for me.)


The reason I knew it was nasty…other than the lack of energy, stuffy nose, sore throat, nasal drip and coughing jags…PaulA has been tripping over himself to stay clear of me.


Anywhooooooooo………………..


I'm not a baby when it comes to colds, although I tend to whimper now and then. And sometimes I roll around in my bed, moaning and groaning. I never take cold medication, not because I’m a freak like Tom Cruise and don’t believe in meds…but I don’t think anything really helps, except massive sleep. Everyone has their own way of dealing with a cold…and we are all a little different.

When PaulA gets a cold…he soldiers on. He doesn’t let it stop him. He gets up and goes to work. He marches on…through the daily trenches of life.

When Colinboy gets a cold…he has to first make sure it is a cold…and not a rare disease from South Africa. He goes online to WebMD, researches his symptoms to rule out diseases such as necrotizing fasciitis…that nasty flesh-eating disease. He makes sure he is going to live another day.

When Chelsea gets a cold…she's looking for something she can take. She wants it over and over now. A trip to CVS, down the cold remedies aisle, and she is set to go…with a med for every symptom.

When Bri gets a cold…she never says a word about…let alone complain. She can have something wrong with her and I’m the last to know. When she had mono, she was walking around with a swollen neck gland for 10 days before she decided to show me her tree trunk neck.

Yes, the 5 of us are all different…but if you take the good parts of how we each handle a cold and combine them…we are……………

Someone who…doesn’t complain to anyone…and after ruling out Ebola disease from the Sudan …and taking massive meds…soldiers on through their day…and gets to bed early.

Together we make the perfect cold patient.

Election Day

Yea….Election Day.

The November elections couldn’t get here soon enough. The barrage of advertisements for Senator, Governor, Attorney General, Indian Chief, etc…have taken a toll on me. Everything is so negative, adverse, conflicting, damaging, mean-spirited…and just NOT NICE.

They say the reason for so many negative advertisements is because they’ve been proven to work. Apparently…."Mikey likes it.” So in effect, we have ourselves to blame.

Like the existence of tabloid magazines. If we never bought another sensationalized magazine, wouldn’t they be forced to close-up shop?

Not that I always take the high road…but I refuse to buy The National Enquirer. I admit, however, to reading it in the grocery store check-out line until the cashier says, ‘Hey Lady, inquiry minds wants to know…Are you buying that magazine?”

The closest I’ve come to dishrag journalism is People Magazine…which is better than Bounty for mopping up spills.

Anyway, Charlie Sheen makes for interesting reading in any magazine.

Anywhoooooooo……….

Smear campaigning is the ultimate in mud-slinging. By diverting attention from the real issues, you never learn about what platforms the politicians stand on…let alone what sneakers. Hey, I appreciate a good exaggeration as well as the next person. But sometimes the smearing is hurtful and untruthful. I’m not even sure how they get away with such slander. But what’s good for the goose…is slander for the gander.

If I believed every negative thing opponents said about each other…there would be no one left to vote for. Apparently they’re all either…liars, cheaters, drinkers, or have been arrested.

Don’t forget to Vote Today……
and if you aren’t sure who to vote for...why not write in “Charlie Sheen.” Apparently, Charlie has all of the qualifications.

By the way…."I approve this message.”

Tricks with Treats

Did you get many trick-or-treaters last night? We had 14...that is, if we count the kid who came by twice. I knew that little devil looked familiar.

Last year we weren't home for Halloween night which, as we all know, can be a recipe for disaster...two dozen eggs, 6 rotten tomatoes, and a roll of paper.

Luckily we didn’t end up in the eye of Newt of any rowdy ghosts, ghouls, or goblins.

Anywhooooo......

Last Halloween I missed seeing the neighborhood children come to the door in their costumes. So this year I was bound and gagged to make sure I was here. Seeing their little faces brings me back to when our kids were that age.....

I remember our kid's excitement from a night of trick-or-treating through neighborhoods...spreading their loot out on the floor when they got home....separating the candy into categories...making trades with each other...priceless.


I thoroughly encouraged them to spread their candy all over the floor...that way I could check it and make sure it was safe to eat...and make sure I got a good look at what candy I was going to steal from them while they were at school. It was as easy as taking candy from a baby.


I remember the year Wishy had a 5th grade math teacher who turned their Halloween candy into a math lesson. He had them visually display the different amounts and frequencies of their candy by putting them into bar graphs…and then making generalizations about the data. “Nerds are more popular than Air Heads.” That's one way of making math a treat.

Only problem with the math homework was…it made it tricky for me to steal treats from Wishy. With her bar graph around as “proof of evidence”…I knew it would be difficult to explain the missing data…especially in the candy bar category.