(Repost...originally written & posted on Myspace on date listed below)
Friday, April 06, 2007
Jesus Died For Everyone, Even the Jerk in the Jetta
Current mood: irate
It is Good Friday, the beginning of the most holy time in the Christian calendar, and I am already started out on the wrong foot. So I thought I'd share it with you, so that you can be just as ill and befuddled as I am now.
On my way home from the office, I decided to stop at Chili's and pick up an order of their chips and salsa. If you haven't had them, I highly recommend them! The salsa has just the right kick and the chips are thin and crispy with just the right amount of salt. When I decide I want them, my "taster is set," as my daddy would say, and nothing else will do. I order them so often, that Chili's number is saved in my phone. I call in my order when I reach Edward's Lake Road, so by the time I pull up in the To Go lane, they are standing there with the bag. I am sure this is why they ask, not only my name, but also what kind of car I am driving.
Today was no different, except that I took a little detour by TJ Maxx that is right behind Chili's, so I was a little later than usual getting into line. No problem, it's just chips & salsa. It's not like I've got a rack of baby-backs cooling off and potentially breeding some mysterious and deadly pork-borne food poision.
When I reach Chili's, they are as packed as any other on a Friday night. I am third in the to-go line, behind a silver Jetta.Now anyone who has ever had to go thru a drive thru has, from time to time, been asked to "pull up" to wait until their food is ready. This usually happens to Cyndi and me because we are usually trying to feed an army of hungry chilldren and we have placed an astronomical order. Usually, someone, or several someones, with smaller orders get their food before us. It happens. I understand the concept of moving people thru the line as quickly as possible and meeting the orders that can be met. I've worked in Customer Service long enough to realize that you do what you can do and that's all you can do. Clear the line. Don't have a problem with it and I don't mind waiting.
Usually, my little chips & salsa order is considered a small order, and often, knowing I am the silver Saturn, when they see me waiting, they bring my small order while others are still waiting for their food.
I sat patiently as the young man handling the to-go orders went back and forth handling the customer in the first car. He was apparently manning the to-go line by himself, because he never looked back down the line at the other cars waiting. After about 10 minutes, the first car got their food and moved out of the line. The silver Jetta in front of me inched forward and I followed close behind. To-Go Man bebopped up to the Jetta with a ticket in hand, and soon disappered back in the glass door. He made this trip several more times in the space of about 10 more minutes, still not acknowledging anyone else in the line.After a few more minutes, I decided to just see if my little order was ready and I would be one less person waiting. Obviously, Mr Jetta had a sizeable order that was being cooked while he waited. So I hopped out of my car and went in the to-go door. As I had suspected, my order was sitting on the counter.
The manager, a very short, dark-haired man named Joe, met me in the alcove and asked if he could help me. I told him that I had ordered chips and salsa close to 45 minutes ago and thought I would see if I could go ahead and get them. He checked the bag on the counter, verified it was my order, and handed the ticket to To-Go Man and handed me the bag. Little Joe also gave me a little magnet with the Chili's To-Go logo and phone number on it in appreciation of my patience.
Just as I thanked Little Joe for the magnet and assured him it would be put to good use, Mr Jetta, whom I will from here further refer to as The Jerk in the Jetta (or JJ for short) snatched open the to-go door."Are you waiting on her or are you waiting on me!" he yelled, startling everyone standing in the alcove. "There is a line you know!" Joe responded that they were preparing his order, and with that JJ closed the door. He began pacing like a caged tiger under the canopy between the door and his car. He looked to be one of those uptight, Junior executive types, who had just spent his only off day in three months lugging the CEO's clubs around the country club. He was dressed in khaki's, an all-weather pull over with a logo I couldn't make out, a matching visor and a Bluetooth blinked like a strobe on the side of his head.
To-Go Man swipped my card and hastily handed me the slip to sign as he went about printing JJ's ticket. I laid my signed ticket on the counter and as I turned to leave, JJ again snatched open the door.
"I'm sorry," I said smiling, "I only had chips and salsa." I unlocked my car with the remote and started to get in.
"Oh and that makes your order more important than mine?!" He yelled. "Excuse me?!" I responded, shocked . "That was very rude, there was a line!" JJ retorted. To-Go Man was standing next to him, trying valiantly to hand him the ticket to sign. "There's such a thing as manners you know." I couldn't believe this was happening. "It was just chips and salsa" I repeated. "And that is SOOO important" he repeated."No, it's not more important, but I didn't see the point in waiting 45 minutes for chips and salsa that was already ready" I was starting to get a little hot. I was an hour past taking my second blood-pressure pill of the day, and I could feel my heart starting to rev up. I couldn't believe this jerk was getting so torqued. "I was first, there was a line, but if your time is SOOO much more important.." JJ yelled at me again.
I knew I'd better get in my car and get out before I clocked JJ with my precious chips and salsa that I had waited an hour to get and wound up having to call someone to get me out of jail for assault with a deadly condiment. "Some people have no manners" he yelled again, signing the ticket with a flourish.
What the hell did this have to do with manners? Obviously JJ had never had to pull up and wait for his food, while smaller orders were handled around him. Maybe that strobing Bluetooth was causing a mini-seizure that triggered some long dormant case of Tourettes.
I was beginning to see my pulse in my eyeballs, and in one last ditch effort to get the last word, I leaned out my half open door, car running and yelled "JUST BECAUSE YOU HAVE A PENIS DOES NOT MAKE YOU MORE IMPORTANT THAT EVERYBODY!" With that I slammed my door and drove off. As I turned left onto Highway 11 and passed back in front of Chili's I saw JJ jesturing wildly at To-Go Man and Little Joe.
You know how after you have a confrontation you can think of a thousand great things to say? Well on the drive from Trussville to Moody, my brain was working overtime. I felt bad for To-Go Man, who I was sure was now in trouble for my inpertenance. I decided to call back and make sure he was not reprimanded for what happened.
Little Joe answered my call. I told him who I was and that I wanted to call and apologize for what had happened and make sure that To-Go Man did not get into trouble. I explained that I ordered chips and salsa often and was often helped out of turn, while other customers ahead of me waited for their larger orders. He told me that To-Go Man was a rookie, and he would revisit the procedure and assured me that he was in no trouble. I even apologized for arrogant JJ, who should have apologized for himself . Little Joe thanked me for my call and my willingness to apologize. He said that I was the type of customer that Chili's wanted and thanked me for being a loyal customer and that he looked forward to the opportunity to serve me again.
Some what vindicated, I drove on to Cyndi's where I was to watch her children while she went out on a much deserved dinner alone with her honey. I recounted my story, my blood still at near boiling. She was impressed with the cleverness of my final retort. (Of course she would be, it sounded more like something she would have said herself than something I'd have come up with on my own,) I began to rattle off the things I should have said that I'd thought of on the drive home."I wish I'd had the presence of mind to say 'Happy Easter to you too' instead." I said remorsefully, "You know, made him feel bad for being such a jerk." Then Cyndi, my ever-clever bossom buddy responded, "No, what you should have said was 'And to think, it never ceases to amaze me, that Jesus died for you too."
And so He did.
And we will be celebrating His triumph over death and the grave in two days time.I'll be the one down front, on the altar, begging forgiveness for wanting chips and salsa.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Patriotism & Thankfulness
(Repost...originally written & posted on Myspace on date listed below)
Friday, January 12, 2007
Patriotism & Thankfulness
In my previous blogs I've tried to be somewhat comical, but today I'm going to be serious.Given Pres.Bush's recent decision to send more troops to the Middle East, and the apparent terror attack on the US Embassy in Greece, I thought you might need to see another side of me.
My patriotism.
I was born and raised in tiny Leeds, Alabama, a city east of Birmingham just off I-20. Yes, that is also the home of basketball legend, Charles Barkley, ( a really nice guy once you get to know him, as most of us from Leeds do. He truly lives up to his quote "It's not what you have, it's what you give back.") but that is a story for another day.Leeds has been recognized as a City of Valor, having more decorated war veterans than any other city of it's size, in the country. (http://www.leedsalabama.com/consumer.htm)
This distinction includes three Medal of Honor reciepients; Henry "Red" Erwin, Alford Mclaughlin, & William R. Lawley.
Bill Lawley was my grandfather's cousin and a boyhood companion.Read more about him here ( http://click.medalofhonor.com/www.airforcehistory.hq.af.mil/PopTopics/MOH-bios/Lawley.html )
One of my favorite stories of their friendship, was when he accidently shot my grandfather in the leg, while chasing a wounded rabbit. My grandfather carried that bullet the rest of his life. He'd tell the story, then rub our fingers along the side of the bullet, lodged just to the inside of his shin, above his ankle. I always thought it was a funny little story.
I do not recall ever seeing Alford McLaughlin, outside of pictures, but I remember vividly the first time I ever met Red Erwin. Severely burned from a phosphorous bomb, he barely resembled anything human. His face was disfigured, he was missing his nose and an ear and only had two fingers on one hand. When I was small, I was terrified of him. He personified what the boogeyman might actually look like. It was not until I was older, when I learned how he was injured, that I understood and appreciated his sacrifice. When he would come into the store I worked at in high school, I remember he was quiet and kind, and had very nice blue eyes.
In November of 1999, Alabama legislature named Highway 119 "Medal of Honor Highway" and dedicated it to these heroes.(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y29/hrhjustjoythe1st/MOHhwy.jpg )
Everytime I hear the National Anthem played, I cry a little. Always have. Have you ever noticed that it was written during and about the heat of battle? I am reminded, each time, of Americans that have fought for this country and my freedom.Military families currently top my prayer list.They are what is keeping our military going. So many parents, both mothers and fathers, are currently serving our country. Families having to get by, day to day, with their loved one so far away.
I wonder if they are hurt by some of the things they see other American's saying about the war. The crass, insensitive comment made by John Kerry springs to mind. I know I'm ashamed to admit people like him are Americans too. I wonder if he thinks about that when he hears the National Anthem.
If freedom was something that everyone had to work for, like a salary, do you think that we'd appreciate it a little more?
The Lawley family boasts a long line of military service: not only my grandfather, but all his brothers, my father, and brother as well. My husband's family has a rich military history also.My husband, his father, an uncle and both grandfather's also served our country. I am certain they followed the example of generations before them, who felt it was not only a duty, but an honor.This dedication to service is also found in the families of my friends. My best friend's father lost his leg in Vietnam, before she was born. Even though I see him often, I can't begin to imagine what that was like.Cyndi has never known him any other way.
Cyn, Darling Hubby, Me...we all learned early on, what is probably the most valuable lesson any American could learn: our freedom isn't free.I take a lot of things for granted in my life, but that fact is not one of them. I wonder if the war protesters realize that they have the right to assemble freely and protest, because someone died for it? Or may die for it tomorrow.
I have friends in all branches of service, all across the globe. Some are in harms way as you read this. Some are unpacking from their assignments, some are packing for deployment.Cyndi's little brother Sean will soon be deployed to his second tour of duty in the Middle East. Here at home are his wife and three small boys, ages 6,4 and the youngest nearly 2.Over Christmas, we talked about his first tour. He told me about not being able to shower for nearly two months; having to burn their clothes because of a possible bio-threat; sand in everything; the unimaginable heat and the surprising cold; going for weeks with no mail, then getting a month's worth all at once. He was different from the person I used to know. Harder somehow. As he spoke, it was all I could do not to cry and grab him and hug him and tell him thank you, over and over again.
I know that there are people right now, boarding buses somewhere with their little signs, to go and demonstrate about Pres. Bush's latest decision. And that is all well and good for them.But I challenge them to use just a portion of that energy to say "thank you" to someone preserving that freedom of speech.
As for my family from Moody,AL, we would like to say THANK YOU to our military personnel. We are praying for you as you serve.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Patriotism & Thankfulness
In my previous blogs I've tried to be somewhat comical, but today I'm going to be serious.Given Pres.Bush's recent decision to send more troops to the Middle East, and the apparent terror attack on the US Embassy in Greece, I thought you might need to see another side of me.
My patriotism.
I was born and raised in tiny Leeds, Alabama, a city east of Birmingham just off I-20. Yes, that is also the home of basketball legend, Charles Barkley, ( a really nice guy once you get to know him, as most of us from Leeds do. He truly lives up to his quote "It's not what you have, it's what you give back.") but that is a story for another day.Leeds has been recognized as a City of Valor, having more decorated war veterans than any other city of it's size, in the country. (http://www.leedsalabama.com/consumer.htm)
This distinction includes three Medal of Honor reciepients; Henry "Red" Erwin, Alford Mclaughlin, & William R. Lawley.
Bill Lawley was my grandfather's cousin and a boyhood companion.Read more about him here ( http://click.medalofhonor.com/www.airforcehistory.hq.af.mil/PopTopics/MOH-bios/Lawley.html )
One of my favorite stories of their friendship, was when he accidently shot my grandfather in the leg, while chasing a wounded rabbit. My grandfather carried that bullet the rest of his life. He'd tell the story, then rub our fingers along the side of the bullet, lodged just to the inside of his shin, above his ankle. I always thought it was a funny little story.
I do not recall ever seeing Alford McLaughlin, outside of pictures, but I remember vividly the first time I ever met Red Erwin. Severely burned from a phosphorous bomb, he barely resembled anything human. His face was disfigured, he was missing his nose and an ear and only had two fingers on one hand. When I was small, I was terrified of him. He personified what the boogeyman might actually look like. It was not until I was older, when I learned how he was injured, that I understood and appreciated his sacrifice. When he would come into the store I worked at in high school, I remember he was quiet and kind, and had very nice blue eyes.
In November of 1999, Alabama legislature named Highway 119 "Medal of Honor Highway" and dedicated it to these heroes.(http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y29/hrhjustjoythe1st/MOHhwy.jpg )
Everytime I hear the National Anthem played, I cry a little. Always have. Have you ever noticed that it was written during and about the heat of battle? I am reminded, each time, of Americans that have fought for this country and my freedom.Military families currently top my prayer list.They are what is keeping our military going. So many parents, both mothers and fathers, are currently serving our country. Families having to get by, day to day, with their loved one so far away.
I wonder if they are hurt by some of the things they see other American's saying about the war. The crass, insensitive comment made by John Kerry springs to mind. I know I'm ashamed to admit people like him are Americans too. I wonder if he thinks about that when he hears the National Anthem.
If freedom was something that everyone had to work for, like a salary, do you think that we'd appreciate it a little more?
The Lawley family boasts a long line of military service: not only my grandfather, but all his brothers, my father, and brother as well. My husband's family has a rich military history also.My husband, his father, an uncle and both grandfather's also served our country. I am certain they followed the example of generations before them, who felt it was not only a duty, but an honor.This dedication to service is also found in the families of my friends. My best friend's father lost his leg in Vietnam, before she was born. Even though I see him often, I can't begin to imagine what that was like.Cyndi has never known him any other way.
Cyn, Darling Hubby, Me...we all learned early on, what is probably the most valuable lesson any American could learn: our freedom isn't free.I take a lot of things for granted in my life, but that fact is not one of them. I wonder if the war protesters realize that they have the right to assemble freely and protest, because someone died for it? Or may die for it tomorrow.
I have friends in all branches of service, all across the globe. Some are in harms way as you read this. Some are unpacking from their assignments, some are packing for deployment.Cyndi's little brother Sean will soon be deployed to his second tour of duty in the Middle East. Here at home are his wife and three small boys, ages 6,4 and the youngest nearly 2.Over Christmas, we talked about his first tour. He told me about not being able to shower for nearly two months; having to burn their clothes because of a possible bio-threat; sand in everything; the unimaginable heat and the surprising cold; going for weeks with no mail, then getting a month's worth all at once. He was different from the person I used to know. Harder somehow. As he spoke, it was all I could do not to cry and grab him and hug him and tell him thank you, over and over again.
I know that there are people right now, boarding buses somewhere with their little signs, to go and demonstrate about Pres. Bush's latest decision. And that is all well and good for them.But I challenge them to use just a portion of that energy to say "thank you" to someone preserving that freedom of speech.
As for my family from Moody,AL, we would like to say THANK YOU to our military personnel. We are praying for you as you serve.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
She's 41 and her daddy still calls her baby....
Yep...today I am 41.
I'll be celebrating this evening with my best girlfriend, Cyndi (who's birthday was Tuesday),and her sister-in-law, MaryJo (who's birthday was Sunday), at the local Mexican restaurant.
Then the hubby and our kiddos have a little ice cream and cake action for me this weekend.
So my birthday plans are kinda wild compared to some years and kinda tame compared to others.
Here I am at the start of it all...40 years ago.
I think I'll be taking a nap after this year's party too.
I'll be celebrating this evening with my best girlfriend, Cyndi (who's birthday was Tuesday),and her sister-in-law, MaryJo (who's birthday was Sunday), at the local Mexican restaurant.
Then the hubby and our kiddos have a little ice cream and cake action for me this weekend.
So my birthday plans are kinda wild compared to some years and kinda tame compared to others.
Here I am at the start of it all...40 years ago.
I think I'll be taking a nap after this year's party too.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Oh no...I've been "Tagged"
Thanks to my friend, Ang, I have been "tagged."
Before you run out to be innoculated to remain in my pressence,
I have been "tagged" to play a game of "blog tag"
The Rules:
1)Link the person(s) who tagged you
2)Mention the rules on your blog
3)Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4)Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them
5)Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.
Now, I am all game for tag, and items 1 thru 3 aren't an issue, but unfortunately I don't know 6 other bloggers, much less, 6 that will play along.
So, I will go thru with items 1-3.
1) Link the person who tagged you...okay...done.
http://www.hopehealingempowerment.blogspot.com/
2) Mention the rules on your blog
....see above...
3) Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks about yourself
a) I, too, am proficient in picking up items with my toes.
b) I have OCD...and not in a good way
c) I brush my teeth with hot water ( my husband thinks that's a quirk)
d) I like salsa on my scrambled eggs
e) I am the family trivia queen, and am highly sought after for games such as Trivial Pursuit,
Pictionary and Cranium.
f) I cry, or at the very least tear up, when ever I hear the National Anthem.
Now if I could have a little help with the other bloggers, then I could continue the game.
Before you run out to be innoculated to remain in my pressence,
I have been "tagged" to play a game of "blog tag"
The Rules:
1)Link the person(s) who tagged you
2)Mention the rules on your blog
3)Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks of yours
4)Tag 6 following bloggers by linking them
5)Leave a comment on each of the tagged blogger’s blogs letting them know they’ve been tagged.
Now, I am all game for tag, and items 1 thru 3 aren't an issue, but unfortunately I don't know 6 other bloggers, much less, 6 that will play along.
So, I will go thru with items 1-3.
1) Link the person who tagged you...okay...done.
http://www.hopehealingempowerment.blogspot.com/
2) Mention the rules on your blog
....see above...
3) Tell about 6 unspectacular quirks about yourself
a) I, too, am proficient in picking up items with my toes.
b) I have OCD...and not in a good way
c) I brush my teeth with hot water ( my husband thinks that's a quirk)
d) I like salsa on my scrambled eggs
e) I am the family trivia queen, and am highly sought after for games such as Trivial Pursuit,
Pictionary and Cranium.
f) I cry, or at the very least tear up, when ever I hear the National Anthem.
Now if I could have a little help with the other bloggers, then I could continue the game.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Craziness...
So much craziness in my life right now...
Gas Prices are Crazy. Bills are Crazy. Work is Crazy. Friends are Crazy, Family is Crazy.
It's enough to make you want to kill someone!!
These things, however, are already dead :
Dead car battery
Dead husband's car
Dead-Dog-Tired
I did have one bright spot...I bought a pageant dress from a drag queen. Oh, sorry, That's Female Impersonator. And I'm really looking forward to getting it.
Crazy, right?
See what I mean...
Gas Prices are Crazy. Bills are Crazy. Work is Crazy. Friends are Crazy, Family is Crazy.
It's enough to make you want to kill someone!!
These things, however, are already dead :
Dead car battery
Dead husband's car
Dead-Dog-Tired
I did have one bright spot...I bought a pageant dress from a drag queen. Oh, sorry, That's Female Impersonator. And I'm really looking forward to getting it.
Crazy, right?
See what I mean...
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye...
DISCLAIMER; IF YOU ARE IN ANY WAY SQUEAMISH, STOP READING HERE AND FOR THE SAKE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD, DO NOT LOOK AT THE PICTURES IN THE LINK ARTICLE!
Okay...that out of the way I can move on to the topic of my post EYEBALL TATTOOING
Yes, you read that right...tattoos on the EYEBALL.
Last night after church, my bossom-buddy, oft mentioned "partner in crime" and fellow CSI/Law & Order/Foriensic Files junkie, Cyndi and I were watching CSI/New York. Of the 3 this is not our favorite...but when it's that or a hockey game, well, you get the idea.
The "perp" was described as having "blue eyeballs." It was first theorized that he could have a genetic disorder called osteogenisis imperfecta that causes, among other things, extremely brittle bones, spinal deformities, muscle weakness and the whites of the eyes to appear blue.
Surprisingly, I am familiar with OI, as one of my Miracle League buddies has it. (Read more here http://www.oif.org/site/PageServer?pagename=FastFacts )
After that was ruled out, it was determined that the "perp" could have his eyeballs tattooed.Apparently the newest tattooing rage in New York! Don't it make my blue eyes...well, blue?!Of course, being CSI, we get to see the procedure being performed. Eeeww factor = 1000.
Luckily for our CSI buddies, despited being in one of the largest populatated cities in the country, only one place does it and they say only 4 people have had this procedure! Needless to day, they catch their "perp" rather quickly. They interogate him, his "blue" eyes glowing throughout. It made my eyes water.
So, I had to google it and guess what...eyeball tattooing is an actual procedure!
(supporting article .. http://www.nypost.com/seven/07312007/entertainment/health/dont_turn_blind_eye_to_eye_tattoo_risks_health_dr__rock_positano.htm)
I understand tattoos (sort of): Cyndi has a tattoo, my husband has a tattoo. The first time my mother saw Heath's tattoo, she embarrassed us in a crowded mall by shreiking "WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT ON YOUR ARM?!" I'd have a tattoo if I wasn't such a big chicken (my mother threatened me many years ago...I learned early that you don't cross Mother). But I don't really care for having something so permanent.
I can "put on" anything I want to. I compete in pageants....I play "dress up" all the time. But I can dress down and be "Mom" when I'm done too. I don't like the idea of having something I can't take off.
I also have a hard time getting shots to get well from things like pneumonia and strep. I know I couldn't PAY someone to repeatedly stick me and I'd have to be DEAD before I let someone stick one in my EYE!
Guess that's where that old saying comes from, huh?
Okay...that out of the way I can move on to the topic of my post EYEBALL TATTOOING
Yes, you read that right...tattoos on the EYEBALL.
Last night after church, my bossom-buddy, oft mentioned "partner in crime" and fellow CSI/Law & Order/Foriensic Files junkie, Cyndi and I were watching CSI/New York. Of the 3 this is not our favorite...but when it's that or a hockey game, well, you get the idea.
The "perp" was described as having "blue eyeballs." It was first theorized that he could have a genetic disorder called osteogenisis imperfecta that causes, among other things, extremely brittle bones, spinal deformities, muscle weakness and the whites of the eyes to appear blue.
Surprisingly, I am familiar with OI, as one of my Miracle League buddies has it. (Read more here http://www.oif.org/site/PageServer?pagename=FastFacts )
After that was ruled out, it was determined that the "perp" could have his eyeballs tattooed.Apparently the newest tattooing rage in New York! Don't it make my blue eyes...well, blue?!Of course, being CSI, we get to see the procedure being performed. Eeeww factor = 1000.
Luckily for our CSI buddies, despited being in one of the largest populatated cities in the country, only one place does it and they say only 4 people have had this procedure! Needless to day, they catch their "perp" rather quickly. They interogate him, his "blue" eyes glowing throughout. It made my eyes water.
So, I had to google it and guess what...eyeball tattooing is an actual procedure!
(supporting article .. http://www.nypost.com/seven/07312007/entertainment/health/dont_turn_blind_eye_to_eye_tattoo_risks_health_dr__rock_positano.htm)
I understand tattoos (sort of): Cyndi has a tattoo, my husband has a tattoo. The first time my mother saw Heath's tattoo, she embarrassed us in a crowded mall by shreiking "WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT ON YOUR ARM?!" I'd have a tattoo if I wasn't such a big chicken (my mother threatened me many years ago...I learned early that you don't cross Mother). But I don't really care for having something so permanent.
I can "put on" anything I want to. I compete in pageants....I play "dress up" all the time. But I can dress down and be "Mom" when I'm done too. I don't like the idea of having something I can't take off.
I also have a hard time getting shots to get well from things like pneumonia and strep. I know I couldn't PAY someone to repeatedly stick me and I'd have to be DEAD before I let someone stick one in my EYE!
Guess that's where that old saying comes from, huh?
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Now that's what I call a "Home Run Assist"!
Sometimes I'm ashamed of the actions of my fellow man and then I see something like this that renews my faith in humanity.
Wish we could all display sportsmanship like this!
Read more at:
http://msn.foxsports.com/olympics/story/8091708?GT1=39002
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