WEDDING SURPRISES: TO HAVE, TO HOLD, AND TO . . . UH OH

Went to a fun party tonight and was regaled with stories of wedding snafus suffered by other parents of recent brides and grooms. Even the most intense perfectionist can never, ever pull off a wedding and reception without surprises. It's the stuff that goes wrong that makes them so much fun.

One dignified doctor set up a wonderland of drapey fabric from tall cottonwood trees at her daughter's riverside ceremony site. It was 92 degrees out, but wasn't too bad because of the lovely river drifting by. That is, until the climax of the wedding ceremony . . . when about a dozen drunken TUBERS with loud music and many coolers in evidence drifted right by the scene . . . and yelled up at the wedding party and guests . . . and one young woman lifted her blouse. It actually MADE the event for most people, and certainly was a memorable scene.

Another man had just bought a 40-acre wooded spread intended as his retirement home near a major city in Texas. He completed a 100' x 50' building on the land that his daughter declared would make the perfect reception site. The metal walls were draped with white fabric and they even brought in chandeliers. They decorated it so beautifully, one would never guess that there was a tractor, a shredder, farm implements and all kinds of un-gorgeous stuff right on the other side of the drapes. Even though it also was 92 degrees out, with no air conditioning, everything went fine . . . except that, despite being on a huge wooded property, the father of the bride forgot to cut wood for the fire pit. So hundreds of s'mores went uncooked (not a major tragedy; they are still eating Hershey bars at snack time!), and a giant thunderstorm boiled up from the prairie headed their way, threatening to dump one or two inches of rain on the outdoor ceremony. Almost miraculously, the storm split in two when it was a few miles off, and no rain fell on the wedding parade PLUS the temperature dropped by 20 degrees.

And they all lived happily ever after!

Mom Flaunts Her Hanky Panky

My mom, 85, is funny. She is hosting a party to celebrate her kitchen remodeling. She invited friends and neighbors to "come over for wine and hanky panky."

You should note that "hanky panky" is a hot hors d'oeuvre of hamburger, sausage and melted cheese on mini rye bread. Luckily, they know her well enough to figure out it was a joke.

The invitation reads: "The flaunting starts at 6." :>)

The Principal and the "Principle" of Always Proofreading

We love our middle-school principal. He does fun things like dress up as Batman for the last band concert. He "chased" a popular teacher dressed up as the Joker all over the gym while the kids played the Batman theme song. His heart is certainly in the right place, and that's almost all that matters in that job!

Almost:

1) He sent out a congratulatory letter since our daughter has received the President's Education Award. It signifies that she has earned a GPA of 3.5 or higher. However, he wrote that this was "dubious recognition." Ow! Has the President's over-standardization and dumbing down of Common Core gone THAT far, as to make academic excellence "dubious"?!?

2) We are invited to a reception honoring students receiving this "dubious recognition." One place on the letter says it starts at 7 a.m. Another place says 7:15 a.m. We'll shoot for 7:07:30.

3) For breakfast, the invitation proclaims, they will serve "roles" and coffees. Gee: should I play the role of a fairy godmother? A villain? Or a long-suffering parent and taxpayer who is tolerant of boo-boo's over and over again from our public school employees, but feeling more and more "dubious". . . .

OBAMACARE MAY BE MAKING US
MORE DEPENDENT ON OUR EMPLOYERS
FOR HEALTH CARE . . .
BUT THIS IS RIDICULOUS

The receptionist at our tennis place was telling us a funny story. It had to do with something that had happened at the workplace. Then he made a bit of a Freudian slip.

He said, "I couldn't wait to tell my owner. . . ."

Our eyebrows raised.

He quickly corrected, "I mean, my BOSS, the owner of this place."

Too late. Couldn't shake the image of him down on all fours, panting obediently and trotting along, connected by a collar and a leash to the nice lady who owns the tennis facility.

We will gleefully . . . dog . . . him about that for a long time to come.

CHRISTMAS WRAPPING BY CANDLELIGHT -- AHH, THE QUAINT DELIGHTS OF THE SEASON -- NOT!

If my loved ones wonder why they are getting a pink ribbon on their package wrapped with green and black wrapping paper, the answer is a major blizzard-related power outage at our house today.

It lasted from O Dark Thirty until 8:30 p.m. Yes, it got cold, but compared to what people have gone through lately in Hurricane Sandy and other disasters, it wasn't that big of a deal.

I had dozens of presents to wrap, and this afternoon had to be "it." So I brought downstairs three candles, one lantern, and several flashlights to the faithful pingpong table that has been Wrap Central for 25 years. Like a determined prairie woman improvising out of necessity, I wrapped all afternoon in the semi-darkness. It was kind of fun, and definitely a first. I amused myself by making up silly new lyrics to my favorite Christmas carols: "Yet in thy dark basement shineth the everlasting Light. . . ."

BORED AT THE AIRPORT

DOGMATIC, BUT MEOW-VELOUS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbycvPwr1Wg

DEVIL DOG, DOCUMENTED

She ate a hole in the living room carpet, chewed two chair legs on my favorite Queen Anne, and terrorizes our older dog by running up behind her and thrusting her snout between her legs to hoist her onto her back.

DEVIL DOG!



Her rambunctiousness has even affected her big sister, Sunny Bone-O, otherwise the meekest, mildest dog on the planet.

But we love Maisy, who we call "Mai Mai," and enjoy doing that even more now that we know that means "little sister" in Chinese. Wonder how they say "Devil Dog"? Probably "Mai Mai," also.

THANKS AND PRAISE FOR THE ONE WHO WOULD NEVER 'UNFRIEND' YOU!

Happy Thanksgiving, you adorable turkey!!! :>)

Wishing you a delightful day focused on friends, family, food

and the Giver of all of the above!



SOMETHING NEW TO BE THANKFUL FOR

I was telling my dear friend how much I wanted everything to be really nice this Thanksgiving weekend, with the whole gang home for a rare treat. As busy as our young adults are, we only get one or two weekends a year with our whole family of nine together. I wanted them to make beautiful memories and remember the sights, sounds, tastes and smells of our home at its very best.

But there was one snag in this dream: our two Labradors, Sunny Bone-O and Maisy Mayhem. In the evening, they love to lay at our feet just as their dinners are digesting and . . . well . . . nature takes its aromatic course. Ewwww!!!!! Major buzz kill.

The culprits . . . last weekend, awaiting a hunting trip.

By habit, they leap into the car the minute they see the

camo stuff coming out so they won't be left behind.

But my wise friend to the rescue. "Don't you know about doggie fart pills?" she demanded. "Go get some at PetCo."

How far I've fallen! I used to get excited about the prospect of diamonds and pearls, a trip to Monte Carlo, a new Ferrari . . . but now the brightest star in my constellation of hope and enchantment is to know about doggie fart pills.

Oh, well: takes all kinds of blessings to make a happy and memorable Thanksgiving. And I'm already plotting how to sneak a few pills into my Beloved's milk to make our peace and contentment complete.

LONG LIVE TWINKIES!

In the wake of all the Hostess Ho-Ho hubbub, I was telling my dear friend about a nutrition speech I once attended. The speaker, a physician, listed the 10 biggest food no-no's. Of course, I was a "perp" in all 10 of them. I think he wanted us to eat nothing but seaweed burgers on kelp bread with a side of crunchy, natural crickets' legs, or some such ickiness.

One of his no-no's did strike home with me, though. It was about the preservatives in many snack foods. Do you REALLY want to put that stuff in your body? He told of cleaning out his garage one day and finding a package of Hostess Twinkies 'way back the corner on a long-forgotten shelf. It had to have been purchased before his nutritional epiphany. By his reckoning, the Twinkies must have been there for more than 20 years. But he could feel through the plastic packaging that the Twinkies were STILL SOFT!

My friend replied drolly, "And his point is . . . .? I'd say that's a pretty spectacular shelf life, the mark of a very good product!!!"

Ewwww! Then again, maybe the company could reinvent itself as a WRINKLE CREAM!!!

SUPER PREPPER -- READY TO SURVIVE FOR 100 YEARS

I've started to think about having a few extra food products on hand for long-term storage, just in case things go South in a bad way.

So I've started looking at expiration dates at the stuff in our (badly named) Lazy Susan. This one, on a can of cooking spray, made me smile. I'm all set for almost 100 years!

CAN A CHRISTIAN BE A DEMOCRAT?

A friend snapped this photo of a large sign in south Lincoln on the heavily traveled Saltillo Road at 21st Street:



It's on a shared road between two businesses. A spokesman for one of them said that his company didn't put up the sign and he doubted the other business put it up. He said he believes a farmer who also shares the road, and has put up pro-life signs in the past, put up the sign. The farmer couldn't be reached for comment.

The sign is apparently in response to the Democratic National Committee platform mandating that tax dollars pay for abortion and contraception. In some people's minds, abortion conflicts with the Bible's Sixth Commandment, Thou shalt not kill (Ex. 20:13). So if you're a Democrat, the thinking goes, you are violating the Bible, which Christ instructed people to obey.

In other people's minds, this sign is the height of intolerance, attempting to use a religious threat to influence political views and, most probably, votes.

So . . . what do YOU think?

NEBRASKA MEDICAID RECIPIENTS COULD FILL MEMORIAL STADIUM THREE TIMES OVER

Go Big Red Ink! As we focus on Saturday night's big game, Nebraska vs. Michigan, and also on the upcoming elections, consider the impact of the longtime weak economy on the cost of taxpayer-provided services such as Medicaid.

Joblessness, high prices and high taxes create more need for health care for low-income kids and adults, blind and disabled people, and the aged, when they can no longer care for themselves. The economy's stress shows most of all in statistics like Medicaid.

So get this: there are 235,354 Nebraskans receiving Medicaid benefits, according to the 2011 annual Medicaid report of the Nebraska Department of Health and Human Services.

Think about it: Medicaid recipients would just about fill our gargantuan Memorial Stadium three times over.



For many years, everybody has giggled about the fact that, when the Huskers are playing at home, Memorial Stadium becomes the third-largest "city" in Nebraska, after Omaha and Lincoln.

Well, if the economy continues southward, and Medicaid numbers go up just a few ticks, the Medicaid population will outstrip Lincoln (258,379 in the 2010 Census).

Let's huddle -- taxpayers, politicians, bureaucrats, medical leaders. Let's elect political quarterbacks who can call new plays to turn this situation around. Let's get our economy back on track so we can all go, fight, win.

CONGRESSIONAL CANDIDATE EWING IS MISSING A GOLDEN OP

Why didn't John Ewing's campaign committee realize that the Omahan looks a lot like Dennis Haysbert, the State Farm ad guy, who played President Palmer in the hit series "24"?

Democrat Ewing, the Douglas County Treasurer, is challenging incumbent Republican Lee Terry for the 2nd Congressional seat.

It would've made a great campaign ad to have Ewing question a few of Terry's policies and then finish up with a dramatic, "Are you in good hands?"

Or push the "24" connection. If a Democrat can't ride the real President's coattails to victory this time, maybe a TV President will do.

Which is which?

A THREE-HOODIE EXPERIENCE

Last time our beloved Nebraska Cornhuskers played football, they did great in the first quarter, and then folded like a cardboard suitcase and lost to Ohio State by a whopping margin.

Turns out someone I know and love had her grandkids to a Burger King during that game, babysitting. She set them up with their burgers, fries and drinks right by the playground equipment. They commenced to dine. After a few minutes, she hopped up to go get another little cup of ketchup . . .

. . . and when she came back, the 4-year-old grandson was beet red and breathing hard . . .

. . . and as he began to retch, she hurriedly looked around for something to catch "it," and grabbed the hood of his hoodie . . .

. . . but after the first onslaught, he started to retch again, so she grabbed her granddaughter's hoodie . . .

. . . and then, third time's the charm, he retched once again, and the only thing left was HER hoodie . . . making for a rather unpleasant drive home, straight to the washing machine.

So it was a Three-Hoodie Experience, both for Grandma at the Burger King, and for us Cornhusker football fans, that night.

Here's hoping this weekend is a little better for us!

SPELL-CHECK CUISINE

A friend was trying to look up a recipe for "tostadas" but the spell-check mechanism on her computer kept changing it to "asbestos."

Ay, carumba! But her friends put her at ease, saying things like, "It just takes a lot of dip to make it taste good that way," and "Use a circular saw to cut your tortilla disks, and be sure to wear a mask."

I can relate. If I had a dime for every time someone said my meatloaf slices would make nice brick pavers. . . .

THE PUTT-PUTT ADVANTAGE

My favorite girl golfer hit her drive on a par 4 recently. But it happened to bounce down the cart path a lot farther than it would have rolled on the grass.

It bounced and ran downhill for a while, still on the cart path, picking up steam.

Finally, it struck the curb of the cart path and careened right onto the green. She was putting for eagle!

Ironically, she 3-putted from there. She still bogeyed the hole. But boy, it was fun to see the kind of structure that usually guides your ball toward the hole in mini-golf work to her advantage in the real thing!

I . . . KNOW . . . NOTHINK!

Did you see and hear that whole shelf of little mummies, ghosts, skeletons, witches and creepy crawlies at WalMart, mysteriously jiggling and dancing and making a lot of noise?

Maddy and I don't know a thing about it. :>)

SO MUCH EASIER TO RHYME THAN 'MULLET'

Made a collage today of newspaper photos and headline words all about the University of Nebraska football team. Sent it to a beloved young person who's stationed with the military overseas. He's missing all the action of the games, so hope this poster will cheer him up:

Favorite spot: in all different fonts, sizes and colors, I cut out letters to spell out"THROW TO THE FRO" -- a reference to wide receiver Kenny Bell. His Afro hairdo is cooped up and controlled inside his football helmet. But when he takes off his helmet, that 'fro is so big that it shades the entire South stadium.

Bell is a bell-ringer of a player for his team. That slogan is catchy! Hope it rings the chimes of that faraway football fan. His mission right now is much more serious than a football player's, but he loves that game and that team with all his heart. For his military service on our behalf, to us, he is also a . . . BIGWIG!!!

MAN BABIES

These are odd and disturbing, which is why I like them:

www.manbabies.com

A DIFFERENT KIND OF PODCASTING

The Bible speaks of "the day of the locusts." Well, it's the time of year of the locusts around here -- honey locust trees, that is. They're shedding their big, distinctive pods, bigtime.

We just drove under a shower of the brown pods falling from trees because of high winds. Apparently, one of them got stuck somehow in the undercarriage of my Mini Cooper. It was kind of like a playing card clothespinned onto bike spokes.

It was rattling around and making so much noise that I quipped, "We're PODCASTING!"

At the stop sign, we went five feet in reverse, and it fell out, no worse for wear. Didn't even say "Pod-on me." :>)

AT LAST! SOMEONE IN NEBRASKA WHO CAN TACKLE!

Not to diminish the poor lady's injuries, but . . . did you hear about the woman who sued the University of Nebraska after she had been tackled so hard by one or two other women at a ladies' "Intro to Football" event that her earrings flew off and she bonked her head, hard?

http://www.omaha.com/article/20120905/BIGRED/309059787

Heyyyyy! The Nebraska Cornhuskers could USE some strong tacklers. Our defenders sure didn't even come close to making any UCLA players' earrings fly off last weekend.

Maybe they should be recruiting at ladies' events like this, in the future. Gulp! :>)

IN FOOTBALL, AS IN LIFE, TIMING IS EVERYTHING

Wonder if it was just a coincidence, or a wise media buy:

Did you hear the ad for "suicide prevention" during the brutal post-game show on radio station KFAB, which covers Nebraska football, after the UCLA Bruins unexpectedly won, 36-30, dashing the high hopes of the long-suffering Nebraska fans?

If it was deliberate, then someone's wasting talents in the marketing business and should get involved in Vegas, STAT.

WHEN AN 'F' IS A GOOD GRADE

A man told an inspiring story in church today. He told how his life had come back together again, better than ever, after he went through a series of terrible things: a couple of deaths, job loss, home loss, divorce, and on and on.

He said the turning point was when he was in counseling with a minister, and confessed that he felt like he had a big "F" on his forehead -- "F" for "Failure."

But the minister corrected: "No, it's 'F' for 'Forgiven'!"

I was telling Maddy about it when she quickly interjected:

"Or 'F' for 'Effort'!"

Oh, these kids today . . . though I think a good self-image comes from that, too, and I think her humor made the Master smile a little bit.

AN ODD REFLECTION
ON 'WHAT ARE THE ODDS'?

This weird friend of mine had this observation:

"Wow! Almost lost my wife, my kids, and everything, due to my gambling addiction. Fortunately, I won them back on the next hand."

Sigh. Is that guy sane? Think that's a bad bet.

SWEEEEET ADVICE
THAT'S GOOD ENOUGH TO EAT

Quoting my wise old friend:

"Sometimes you just have to eat a whole pie by yourself in order to show young people what's possible."

Strike that. Wise-GUY old friend. :>)

WAR OF THE WORLDS MOVIE,
BAD COLD COLLIDE

Bad coincidence last night:



The 1953 classic movie, "War of the Worlds," was on TV, and the man of the house had come down with a terrible chest cold.

"I'll get the vaporizer," I said.

Our daughter cringed. On the TV screen, "horrible" aliens were vaporizing defenseless human beings! "I mean, the humidifier," I quickly corrected. It's true that you have to ATTACK a cold . . . but not quite like THAT!

PRESIDENTS DAY SALE
HAS AMAZING OUTCOME

Quoting a friend:

"I took advantage of a great Presidents Day sale at the car lot. I got a new car for my husband. I was surprised they would give me that much for him."

Ba-boom CRASH!

ASKING AN 11-YEAR-OLD
TO JOIN THE AARP? AARP!!!

We're in mourning. Dori, our 6-year-old guinea pig, passed away unexpectedly last week. My Beloved was able to prepare the grave and bury the deceased under the big pine trees in the back yard before the 8" snowstorm. But there were still some tender emotions in the house.

Then Maddy, 11, came in with the mail. She was excited. She had gotten a letter! Well, what do you know: the American Association of Retired Persons was inviting her to join, and apply for a $50,000 group life insurance policy through New York Life.

"Listen!" Maddy exclaimed, reading the form letter aloud. "Life insurance can help your family with living expenses . . . or help pay bills you may leave behind, including medical costs, credit cards, loan balances, AND FUNERAL COSTS."

She looked up. "How did they find out about Dori?!?"

Oh, this junk mail . . . it will be the death of us all.

WHO KNEW? TOM HANKS' DAD
IS FAMOUS, TOO

Love this song. Love it more, now that I know that actor Tom Hanks' father is the lead singer! In the middle of this clip, he stands in profile and you can just SEE the resemblance. It's fun. Enjoy:

http://www.flixxy.com/the-diamonds-little-darlin-1957-2004..htm

KIDS RESIST GOING GREEN
WHEN IT'S VEGETABLES

A friend's 5-year-old son cracks me up. He told his mom that he HATED green beans, but ate them because he wanted her to be impressed.

Reminds me of Maddy at about that age. We tried to introduce her to artichokes. We oohed and ahhed as our teeth stripped the goodness off each artichoke leaf, exaggerating the delicious taste.

She sat there the whole time with a black unibrow, scowling at us ever more, the harder we tried to entice her into trying just one little bite.

Finally, she muttered, "That is NOT happening!"

FLIPPING HIM THE (BIRD) STARE
DOESN'T BRING IT BACK

What? You ate the last Girl Scout cookie?!?

KIDS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS,
PART II

Yesterday's volunteer trip into the wilds of a day-care center by middle-schoolers acting as reading mentors had many moments of comedy. Here's another one:

Maddy, age 11, was reading the profound classic, "Mr. Brown Can Moo," to five 3- and 4-year-olds. Halfway through, one of them interrupted her.

"What's your name?" he inquired.

"Maddy. What's yours?"

"I don't know. But he's Mason!" he replied, pointing to the boy next to him.

They are royalty in the Kingdom of Random.

KIDS ASK
THE DARNDEST QUESTIONS

Our middle school service learning club went into a day-care center this afternoon to read Dr. Seuss to the itty bitties. The "Book Buddies" had a great time. They were practically levitating with joy on the way home for how good it felt to give a little of their time to others, though the hour was loud, boisterous and wild, the room smelled faintly of diapers and the carpet underneath them was . . . damp. Ewww!

One sixth-grade girl reported this strange encounter with a 4-year-old, who asked her:

"What's your name?"

"Cassie."

"WHY?"

She was dumbfounded. He must've been in that phase little kids all go through, in which they incessantly ask "why?"

All she could do was laugh . . . and of course, THEN he asked her why she was LAUGHING . . . and she just said it was because the book she was reading them was funny . . . and THEN he asked her WHY. . . .

T.G.I.F.!
THAT'S MADDY, AT RIGHT, WITH
HER GOOD FRIEND. NEVER A DULL TWEENER MOMENT!

THE BRITS ARE BLOODY FUNNY;
WANT ADS DON'T WANT FOR HUMOR

These are classified ads, which were actually placed in U.K. Newspapers:


FREE YORKSHIRE TERRIER.
8 years old,
Hateful little bastard.
Bites!



FREE PUPPIES
1/2 Cocker Spaniel, 1/2 sneaky neighbor's dog.



FREE PUPPIES.

Mother is a Kennel Club registered German Shepherd.
Father is a Super Dog, able to leap tall fences in a single bound.



COWS, CALVES: NEVER BRED.

Also 1 gay bull for sale.



JOINING NUDIST COLONY!

Must sell washer and dryer £100.



WEDDING DRESS FOR SALE .

Worn once by mistake.
Call Stephanie.



**** And the WINNER is... ****



FOR SALE BY OWNER.

Complete set of Encyclopedia Britannica, 45 volumes.
Excellent condition, £200 or best offer. No longer needed, got married, wife knows everything.

THOSE MUG MAKERS NEED TO K.I.S.S.:
KEEP IT SIMPLE, SILLY

A buddy of mine got a new coffee mug from somewhere. He finally realized the irony of the printing on this mug.

It reads:

SIMPLIFY, SIMPLIFY

For some amount of time, he has been drinking his coffee out of that mug, and it never dawned on him 'til yesterday that the mug itself is hypocritical.

If you were REALLY trying to exhort people to simplify, you would only have that word on there ONCE. So what was their point by having it twice -- that when you TRY to simplify your life, you invariably end up COMPLICATING it more?

It's enough to mess with your mind. Gimme that mug. I NEED A DRINK!

MICRO-MINI KANGAROO:
AND YOU THOUGHT KIDS WERE HYPER

Here's a couple of jerboas -- cute little desert rodents. They're moving around faster than my eye can watch. Reminds me of kids getting ready for school in the morning:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7uw5HLMuP0&feature=youtube_gdata_player

CATTY-CAKE, CATTY-CAKE,
MEOW-VELOUS REPARTEE


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3iFhLdWjqc&feature=youtube_gdata_player

HONK IF YOU THINK
THEIR GOOSE IS COOKED

Ah, the weird sights you see out in the community on a sunny day. Guess this driver needed to de-liver a lot of de-coys. Either that, or all these geese went out on the town and were now so stiff and hung over, they piled into the back to sleep it off:

TGIF: BABY ELEPHANT BATH
WITH A MATCHING SONG

This adorable video:

cries out to be watched while listening to this adorable Henry Mancini song, “Baby Elephant Walk”:

http://www.last.fm/music/Henry+Mancini/_/Baby+Elephant+Walk
(note: hit the 30-second preview)

I don't know how to merge them, but sure enjoy them even separately.

Must keep this from Maddy or sure as shootin', she'll start clamoring for a pet baby elephant. We've got enough pooper-scooping around these parts as it is, with two dogs, a cat and a guinea pig.

WHOLE LOT OF GOOD EATS
BUT PUTS A 'WHOLE' IN YOUR WALLET

A very dear friend hosted me for lunch at her house today, and served gorgeous, yummy selections from the Whole Foods market near her home. She loves it and goes there darned near every day.

The salad had super-duper lettuce, kale, pumpkin seeds, and all kinds of organic delights, and there were cold, fat shrimp that I'm sure were raised ethically, multiculturally and cage-free.

The only down side is that, yep, all this excellent, delicious and nutritious stuff costs money.

That's why her husband calls it "Whole Paychecks."

A PROFOUND CASE
OF 'LABRADORICAL DEPRESSION'

Yesterday's weather was beautiful. Aha! A chance to finally, finally plant those fat, quality spring bulbs that I ordered last October. Our daughter had planted some in her fiance's yard, and my favorite preschool planted more, but I still had probably $30 or $40 worth in the garage that I never got around to getting under a soil blanket last fall.

Garden Procrastination Queen that I am, I've done this before, and knew they'd come up if I could get them in the ground before a hard freeze. And one was a'comin'.

So out I went to the garden, with bulbs, bone meal and some quality compost:

Just a couple of hours later, I ventured outside again . . . and found that a mini-mountain of fresh dirt and scattered bulbs were all over the driveway!

That renegade 1-year-old Labrador retriever, Maisy "Mayhem" Williams!!!

I ranted and raved . . . but this is not the first time she has done this. Ah should've knowed better.

Oh, well. Always wanted to try "forcing" bulbs. Now's my chance!

And who could stay mad at this face for long:

GOOD THING
DOGS ARE BONEHEADS

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o9UQSUHHdtA&feature=youtube_gdata_player

MYSTERIOUS TV SCREEN
PROMPTS CHEESY RETORT

We got a snazzy new TV and accessories for Christmas. My Beloved and daughter worked with the delivery people to set it all up. Because I am Madame Untechie, I had never so much as turned it on over the holidays. Guess what? Today's TV's are more complicated than a nuclear power station's operational protocol. Finally, yesterday, I tried to turn it on, with our daughter's help.

The opening screen looked something like this:

"Hmm. That looks like the inside of a piano," I ventured.

"What did you THINK it was, a HAMBURGER?" our 11-year-old retorted.

Yes, eventually, I stopped laughing and got the thing turned on. That kid's cheekiness is . . . a whopper.

GOOD THING THEY DIDN'T CONFISCATE
HIS BREADSTICK NUN-CHUCKS, TOO

A 10-year-old boy got in big trouble at school for nibbling his piece of pizza at lunchtime into the shape of a gun, and then pointing it at his classmates:

http://www.infowars.com/boy-disciplined-for-waving-pizza-gun/

My Beloved, on the way out the door to go shoot sporting clays, was philosophical about this latest nonsensical use of "zero tolerance" policies in schools.

He asked, "What ammo was he using? Hamburger, or pepperoni?"

OHHH! SO YOU MEAN
BLIND HAWAIIAN LION PEOPLE!?!

It was nearly dinnertime. Chicken balsamic was sizzling on the grill skillet, and a pot of bowtie pasta was noisily gurgling on the next burner. Maddy called in from the living room with one of those astounding factoids that sixth-graders often toss their parents' way.

"Mom! Did you know Hawaiian people can see their dreams?"

I couldn't quite hear her. "What? Hawaiians? Can't everybody see their dreams?"

"No! Lion people! Lion people can see their dreams!"

Lion people? Like, from some obscure tribe in Africa? "Hunhhh?"

In disgust, she stomped halfway toward me. "B-l-i-n-d people, Mom! BLIND people can see their dreams! They can't see otherwise, but when they dream, they can visualize it."

Ohhhh! She was soooo frustrated . . . but I gave that one reply from the Moms Club that works every time: "That's nice, Dear."

NO FRILLS AIRLINE BIT:
RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU MISS
CAROL BURNETT, HARVEY KORMAN AND TIM CONWAY

It's coming to this, and they knew, decades ago:

http://www.youtube.com/v/QCz8he36hsk%26hl%3den%22

QUITCHER BEEFIN'
'BOUT FOOD PRICES

Rancher friend of a friend reminisced about the days in 1973 when President Nixon put a freeze on beef prices because a corn shortage had led to a beef shortage, and prices were going sky-high.

The market price for an Angus calf at the time of the freeze: 18 cents per pound. That's not a very high sky, compared to today's prices.

Today's market price: $2.06 per pound, which, for a 629-pound heifer calf, comes to $1,295.74.

Zowie! Tend to think that the beef prices we're seeing now aren't ANYTHING like what they're going to be. Yikes! Put things in perspective, all right.

WHAT'S A HOKIE?
WELL . . . IT'S HOKIE

Have been enjoying the Virginia Tech Hokies playing the Michigan Wolverines in the Sugar Bowl tonight. Got to wondering: what is a "Hokie," anyway?

It's a bird, but not a real bird. The word "hokie" was made up by a college student over 110 years ago, when the school changed names from its previous "Virginia Polytechnic Institute," or VPI -- and officials sponsored a cheer contest to build up some school spirit.

But yumpin' yiminy -- the state legislature had named the school the "Virginia Agricultural and Mechanical College and Polytechnic Institute." Imagine cheering for THAT! You'd faint before you could get all the words out.

But a college student named Stull won the $5 top prize for his cheer:


Hoki, Hoki, Hoki, Hy.


Techs, Techs, V.P.I.


Sola-Rex, Sola-Rah.


Polytechs - Vir-gin-ia.


Rae, Ri, V.P.I.


(Later, the phrase "Team! Team! Team!" was added at the end, and an "e" was added to "Hoki," according to the Virginia Tech website.)

SELECT ONE, EITHER/OR:
1. CUTE BABY SLOTHS GETTING A BATH
2. NEBRASKA FOOTBALL TEAM'S BOWL GAME EFFECTIVENESS

http://www.bing.com/videos/watch/video/bath-time-for-baby-sloths/peqanu5?from=sharepermalink-facebook&cpkey=0e280872-16c5-46dd-b144-86df32a17848%7c%7c%7c%7c

A NEW YEAR'S MESSAGE
TO START OFF 2012 WITH A SMILE

Happy New Year, mate! Fix yourself a spot o' tea and enjoy this delight:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x91rBzNKvlc&NR=1

A BOOMIN' GOOD TIME
TO RING IN THE NEW YEAR

"How real men shoot skeet." I like it!

IN IOWA, THE BODY POLITIC
HAS TAKEN A BEATING

Considering the staffers who've quit the Bachmann campaign in the 11th hour, the roller-coaster polls, and the nasty ads by several of the candidates, our daughter's mispronunciation of the upcoming Presidential primary in Nebraska's neighboring state is probably closer to the truth:

She calls them "the Iowa Carcasses."

CANDIDATE FOR THE
ODDEST CHRISTMAS GIFT?

Our family has a Yankee Swap after Christmas dinner. It features cutthroat competition for some nice, but mostly weird and strange, white elephant gifts. This year's items included a little tweener girl's pink diary that a distinguished 50-something relative could not for the life of him get anybody to swap with him for, a champagne-chocolate-mistletoe combo, and also this objet d'art:

Yes, the snow globe is pictured sideways . . .

to make it easier to see our studly coach with his feline companion.



Who knew that Nebraska football coach Bo Pelini was a cat lover? And that his engaging photo would look so lovely in a dimestore snow globe?

Everyone schemed and swapped valiantly for the obviously Photoshopped prize. Eventually it went to the youngest among us, Husker fan Maddy, age 11.

GRANDMA CAN'T WAIT
TO TRICK BRIDGE CLUB

As usual, everybody's favorite gift under the tree this Christmas was a silly toy. Our youngest got a "Sound Machine," which is a little hand-held box that can play funny sound effects:

Plays 16 humorous sounds, mostly appropriate in all social settings.



http://www.paper-source.com/cgi-bin/paper/item/Sound-Machine/3307.010/439469.html

You know: wild applause, a cannonball, funny laughter, a "boing" sound . . . totally goofy.

Well, Grandma, who is 82, loved it. She wanted one, so we ordered her one. What on earth for? To hold in her lap, under the table, at Bridge Club . . . to "comment" on good and bad bridge plays.

You're never too old for wacky fun!

GET A LUBE JOB FOR YOUR HEART:
MERRY CHRISTMAS, Y'OIL!!!

Best Christmas letter of the season goes to my pal from Dulut', who saw a big yellow sign for "Lube Pro's" with the endearing message:

NOTHING SAYS
MERRY CHRISTMAS
LIKE AN OIL CHANGE

True, that!

See you Monday. Have a wonderful time with those you love best this Christmas weekend.

ADORABLE VIDEO CHRISTMAS CARD
IS CHARMING, MUSICAL AND SWEEEEEEEET

What's more fun than a cup full of singing marshmallows? Nothing I can think of. Our daughter works for a very creative bunch in Kansas City, and naturally, their Christmas card is great fun. She's on the upper left-hand side, sort of at 10 o'clock.

Click on this daily to meet all your Christmas season stress reduction needs . . . and think of Prizm Productions for all your present and future video needs!

http://www.prizmproductions.com/

THE ELVES ARE GETTING STRESSED OUT;
PROCEED WITH CAUTION 'TIL CHRISTMAS DAY

Our daughter had just paid for a car wash and was maneuvering her car into line when another motorist screeched and swerved wildly just to cut in front of her in line.

O . . . K. Luckily, since our daughter was done with finals, she was in a cheery mood, and let it go -- except that the harried driver had meant to cut in front of the OIL CHANGE line instead of the car wash line. So everybody had to stop and back up to let her out, soon after she'd gotten in.

I guess her facial expressions were hilarious.

Then comes my darling little brother, who navigates Boston's crazy traffic every day and had an "incident" today that he can only describe as "different."

Some lady driver got mad at him in traffic . . . and flipped him the bird.

That wouldn't be so unusual, except her finger was wearing A TINY LITTLE SANTA HAT!!!!!

SHE WAS SO HUNGRY,
SHE COULD EAT A HOUSE

My friend's little boy came home with a gingerbread house he made at school today. She put it on the kitchen table, and locked her beautiful Shetland sheepdog on the other side of the gate, thinking she would hang with her new puppies. The mom then dashed to the store.

You guessed it: when she came back, the dog was standing in the middle of the kitchen table, and the plate that *had* the house on it was on the floor licked CLEAN!

Another one of her friends quipped, "That will just give your son something to talk about in counseling someday."

AH, NEWLYWEDS!
DANCIN' IN THE KITCHEN!

A friend's daughter certainly picked a winner for her new husband. The other night, he was standing at the stove cooking hash browns for their dinner. Beyonce was on the stereo. The young wife said that she would make them some coffee. He said, "No, your job is to DANCE!" He then dropped his spoon and twirled her around the kitchen in an impromptu dance to the music.

How romantic!

After 30-some years, I'm afraid my husband would have said, "No, your job is to TOTE THAT BARGE and LIFT THAT BALE!!!" Actually, I can't dance anyway. So no great loss. :>) But it's fun to know that young love and whimsical romance still rule the day in SOME people's households!

COCK-A-DOODLE-HUNHHH???
NEVER HEARD OF THAT TREATMENT

At last night's office Christmas party, there was a really fun line dance going on. So I pulled John, my favorite retiree, out onto the dance floor. We did all the cool moves, including a couple of low squats.

Afterwards, in front of his whole table, including wife Joyce, John said that he had had some special shots into his arthritic knees. He could squat two feet lower now than he could before, without pain.

He said the shots were made of the material that is in rooster combs. He said they work great.

I retorted, "Except that you're waking Joyce up every morning at 5 o'clock, going 'Cock-a-doodle-dooooooo'!!!!"

WHEN WILL YOU EVER SEE A CUTER CARTOON?
WHEN PIGS FLY

Mama said there'd be days like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=FrTbnczYAd4&feature=player_embedded

WHEN THE NEIGHBOR MAN
CAN PULL YOUR LEG, BIGTIME

Years ago, I invested in some truly gorgeous and ridiculously expensive Christmas garlands to decorate our front porch. There's a matching pot topper for our front entry, a large wreath, and a few other pieces. The set has a stylish mix of greenery, wide plaid ribbon, big outdoor red and gold ball ornaments, and lots of special little touches tucked in here and there. There are classy little white lights on everything. It "goes" with our house. I love it. Life is complete.

That is, except for the first two weeks of December every year. That's when I have to "encourage" my Beloved several times to put up all of these ridiculously expensive but truly lovely decorations on our tall front columns. I'd do it myself, but it's too heavy and a little scary. It takes a ladder, some tools, some wiring, and a lot of patience. He is willing to risk life and limb after enough "encouragement." But there usually are a few new non-Christmasy vocabulary words emanating from the front porch during the put-up process. (When he puts up, then, finally, I shut up.)

Well . . . everything would be fine, except he has been bothered for years by the fact that we have about 10 trees in the front yard, and they don't have lights on them at Christmastime.

So this year, WITHOUT ASKING ME (key phrase), he went to Wally World and got a string of ridiculously cheap Christmas lights in all colors. They are strung on a white cord, which is even more garish. And his plan was to put these up in the Japanese snow crabapple tree RIGHT next to the existing ridiculously expensive, traditional, plaid ribboned, WHITE-lighted decorations. Clash, clash, clash.

His ugly lights were no doubt made by enslaved child labor in China. MINE were made right here in town by the finest craftsmen at a local nursery, ensuring American jobs, etc. etc.

By the time I saw what he was doing, though, the colored lights were already half up. We had a vigorous "discussion," and I tried to explain how badly these two decorating styles were going to CLASH, but to no avail. There was no stopping him. The garish, ugly, all-colored, white-stringed lights went up RIGHT next to my beautiful, classy decorations. It looked awful. I was a defeated woman.

I went inside to pout. A few minutes later, I returned outside to find our neighbor man, visiting with my Beloved, beholding the schizophrenic light display.

"Hi, Susan!" he said, in his jolly manner. I was wary, but clueless.

Then he frowned: "WHITE lights?" he intoned, with a high degree of disgust, pointing to my beautiful, ridiculously expensive, white-lighted garlands on the front columns, and then toward the crabapple tree's garish, all-colored display. "You're going to have those ugly old WHITE lights, right next to these beautiful, new COLORED lights?!?!?"

My heart beat once. Then twice.

FINALLY, I got it. He was pulling my leg. He and my Beloved bent over laughing at my confused facial expression. BOK CHOY! UFF DAH!!!

MEN!!! They have no taste . . . and they love to flaunt it.

SANTA'S WORKSHOP
FOR PHYSICS FANS

This fantastic Rube Goldberg-style physics demonstration is actually a Honda ad, and comes from the parts of two hand-assembled Honda Accords.

There's not a bit of computer animation or "fix" -- but it didn't work perfectly 'til the 606th "take" and cost $6 million.

However, from the windpower to the windshield wipers (they are designed to start working as soon as they get wet), you'd have to say it's worth every penny. Santa would approve!

CHRISTMAS PHOTO SHOOTS WITH KIDS:
EVERYBODY NEEDS A SHOT OF SANITY SPRAY

I bow at the feet of a master of comedy. Listen to this grandmother describe her Christmas photo shoot with a daughter-in-law's side of the family:

Because cousin Lillian, 2, was vomiting last Sunday when the (family) was scheduled to have their annual family Christmas photos taken, everything was cancelled. SO, yesterday they gathered at Trev's after church and assigned me to take photos with Jeff's good camera.

For one shot, Jeff and Becky sat on the stairs, with all 6 grandkids (4 boys, 2 girls) on the steps above and below them, while Becky held the littlest, 9 mo old Keelynn Grace.......

As I snapped photos, hoping at least one would be good, the three moms, (Leah, Elisha, Josalynn) were all standing around me, simultaneously coaching their kids, trying to be heard over each others' commands.....it was like a Mideast market place.

"Carson! Look at Mommy! Lillian, sit down!"

"Asher! Get your head out of the railing & look here at Mommy! Mom, Keelynn's head needs to be higher! Asher! Stop that!"

"Landon! Stand up! We can't see you behind Gramma and Grampa! Eli! Look at Mommy! Eli, look here! Landon, stand up, please!"

I just snapped photos......finally, at one oddly quiet moment, when the mommies all took a breath at the same time, 3-yr-old Landon spoke up:


"Wow, this is a lot of WORK!"

FAVE G, GOGS, BOOMPA, TICTAC . . .
AND THE WINNER IS. . . .

Collected quite a few adorable grandparent nicknames over the last couple of days. Here's a website with a lot of great ones:

http://www.grandparents.com/gp/content/activitiesandevents/everyday-activities/article/grandparent-names.html

Have to say that our own family's grandparent names are right up there -- Fave G (short for Favorite Grandma) and Funny Grandpa (born of a hilarious few moments with a jack-in-the-box and a grandchild on his lap), and Gammie and NoNo (our eldest, Jordan, at about age 1 was trying to fiddle with his cigarettes in his shirt pocket -- this was back in the day when "everybody" smoked -- and he gently chided her, "No! No!" -- and of course, it stuck).

But the one I most hope my future grandkids will choose for me is "Honey." That would be . . . sweeeeet.

Also like my world's-youngest-grandma neighbor Sheryl's story. Sheryl's adorable grandson Hunter emulates his grandpa. Grandpa calls her "Sheryl." So Hunter calls her "Sheryl," too. The tiny toddler worships the ground she walks on. He's also slightly confused, but in a darling way.

The other day, Hunter asked, "Sheryl? When I get to be my daddy's age, can you and I go out on a date?"

GREATEST GRANDPARENT NICKNAMES
IN MODERN-DAY HISTORY

Love "Grammie." Love "Oma." Love "Nonee." Love "Nana."

But today, I heard the best grandparent "love names" of all:

Cash and Sugar.

Everything you need in life! I don't care how many years I have to wait. Those, I hope, will be our nicknames. Because you know, with inflation, our future grandchildren are going to definitely need a lot of cash . . . and nobody can ever get enough sugar.

EYE CANDY FOR GEEKS:
WATCH THE GROWTH OF WALMART

Here's my new favorite website, and one of its most popular infographics:

http://projects.flowingdata.com/walmart/

BUT YOU CAN'T SHOUT 'HALLELUJAH!'
IN PUBLIC SCHOOL!

Yesterday, they handed out mid-quarter grades. Maddy saw some fat numbers on hers. When you are trying to be a top student, fat numbers are bad numbers. AAAIIIEEE!!!!

Then the teacher realized that she had switched two envelopes and given two students the wrong reports. Maddy and the kid next to her switched reports to the correct ones. Now Maddy was seeing THIN numbers -- meaning, all 1's and 1+'s.

Out of concern for her neighboring classmate's feelings, she did not leap on her desk, shoot her arms skyward, and shout, "Hallelujah!"

But she felt like it. :>)

ALL THESE YEARS, I'VE CALLED IT
A PLAIN OLD 'FLY SWATTER'

A mini Munchkin on our family tree, age 4, recently lisped that his "gwamma" is really good with the BUG SLAPPER.

Come to think of it, that's a much more descriptive name for it. I have now adopted it as my own.

Thanks, "Bwi-an."

THE CRACK OF THE BAT . . .
WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM ABOVE

Maddy's softball game got called off in the middle of the first inning because of lightning, thunderboomers and a sudden shower.

She had just been up, and swung at the first pitch. CRACK! It was a great hit -- hard and low -- and the shortstop couldn't handle it, so Maddy made it to first base easily.

She was sad that the game was called before it really got going, but happy to have a hit.

She said she wishes that RIGHT when she swung at the ball, one of those big thundercracks would have sounded. "Everybody would have thought that was the sound of my bat hitting the ball!" she grinned. "They would have run out onto the field, lifted me up in the air, and carried me around, going 'Woo hoo!!!!!'"

If you could score runs for having a good imagination, she'd be a Hall of Famer for sure.

DOUBLE, DOUBLE
TROUBLE, TROUBLE IN THE BURGER KING LINE

Maddy and her little fifth-grade friends have a new game at recess. It's called "Double, Double."

You square off with a partner, and bump fists (every time you say "double") and either slap the palms of your hands (when you say "this") or the backs of your hands (when you say "that"), in this fast-paced rhythm:

Double, double this, this
Double, double that, that
Double this
Double that
Double double this that

Well, we were waiting in line at the Burger King order window last night, and Maddy was trying to teach it to me. My aging pea brain was not able to get it right until about the fifth try. We were cracking up over my clumsiness, and the car windows were down. Just then, I caught the eye of the mom in the car in the other order lane. She was cracking up, too, and nodded her approval at us.

They call them "teachable moments" -- anytime you can interact with your child and learn something new together. That other mom in the Burger King line was totally on board with what we were doing. It was pretty nice mom-to-mom radar. And no, I still can't QUITE get that game right, but will have fun and keep trying!

HEYYY! WHAT IS THAT PLANT DOING
IN A REPUBLICAN BACK YARD?!?

I was a one-woman S.W.A.T. team in gardening today. I worked from 9 a.m. to 3 p.m., even though it reached 97 degrees, a record for this day in May.

We've had to cut several lower limbs off each tree in a long row of beautiful big pine trees. As a result, the sun gets down to the ground a lot better now, and millions of pesky weeds have sprung up.

As a certified, card-carrying cheapo, I refuse to buy new plants to crowd out the weeds. Instead, I am dividing my already overcrowded existing perennials to take up the new garden space.

So today, I broke apart and moved several huge clumps of day lilies, mums, lamb's ear, columbine and a few other varieties-- hundreds of plants -- into new digs -- literally. Whew! It was work, and I started getting really tired.

I was bending over pulling weeds when suddenly, a GIGANTIC bumblebee buzzed by and lighted on the nearest plant -- a huge bleeding heart shrub.

My dazed mind instantly decided that that plant, identified with "bleeding-heart liberals," has no business in the back yard garden of a proudly conservative member of the GOP.

At that point, I realized that I had had a LITTLE too much sun . . . so I went inside and regained my sanity with a giant glass of iced tea. Actually, bleeding hearts are just about my favorite flower, so I'm glad I realized that I was just a little sun-crazy at that point.

BUCK! BUCK! BUCK! BUCK-KAW!!!!!
STILL CLUCKING OVER THIS MOTHER'S DAY THOUGHT

Had a most lovely Mother's Day, with tender talks, cards and gifts from all my chicks.

Speaking of chicks . . . my "quote a day" book had an outstanding message for Mother's Day. It was unattributed, so don't know who to thank for this:

THE ROOSTER MAY CROW . . . BUT IT'S THE HEN WHO DELIVERS THE GOODS.

Love it! I love men, too -- but this little piece of wisdom is Grade A.

SOMETIMES IT'S YOUR BELOVED,
BUT SOMETIMES IT'S YOU

We were taking a lovely spring walk when my husband looked over at a house, pondered for a second, and then said:

"Pods! What a good idea!"

I looked in that direction. There was a tree there with brown seed pods hanging down. Uhhh . . . was my husband complimenting God for the ingenious way that He designed seed pods?!?!?! Gulp. I smiled a bemused smile (translation: "You dork!") and said nothing.

A split-second later, I saw the brightly-colored portable STORAGE SHED that was right next to the tree with the pods. Apparently, they were doing some remodeling and were storing furniture and stuff on site. The brand name on the storage shed: PODS. As in . . .

Ohhhhh! THOSE were the PODS that he thought were such a good idea! THAT'S what he meant!

I was the dork this time. All I can say is . . . POD'n ME!!!!! :>)

KIDS ARE TECHNICALLY MORE ACCURATE
THAN THE MOST HIGH-FALUTIN' ADULT

Got this joke via email and loved it:

While walking along the sidewalk in front of his church, a minister heard the intoning of a prayer that nearly made his collar wilt. Apparently, his 5-year-old son and his playmates had found a dead robin. Feeling that proper burial should be performed, they had secured a small box and cotton batting, then dug a hole and made ready for the disposal of the deceased.


The minister's son was chosen to say the appropriate prayers and with sonorous dignity intoned his version of what he thought his father always said:

"Glory be unto the Faaather, and unto the Sonnn, and into the hole he goooes."

(Do you want that line used at your funeral? Might give your mourners a smile!)

GO, GRANNY, GO, GRANNY,
GO, GRANNY, GO!

When asked by a young patrol officer, "Did you know you were speeding?"  . . .

. . . the 83-year-old woman talked herself out of a ticket by stating:

"Yes, Officer. I was trying to get there before I forgot where I was going!"

GOT 'THE BUSIES'?
YOU'LL LOVE THIS SCREW-UP

For about a week of every spring, because it's gardening season, I get so busy night and day that I can't even remember my name. The window of opportunity is only so long in gardening, and you have to pounce while the pouncing's good. I'm usually madly overscheduled, frazzled and brainless much of the time in April and May.

But this woman has me beat:

I can't remember all that she was accomplishing that same afternoon, but it was a lot. She had thrown all kinds of things in the car -- dry cleaning, library books, etc. etc. -- and zoomed off on her rounds. She was happy that she had remembered to throw some workout clothes in a plastic sack, and was going to treat herself to a rare hour in the gym after doing 52,000 errands at home and abroad.

She got there, got a locker, opened her sack . . . AND FOUND SOME REALLY SMELLY, RIPE, OLD KITTY LITTER!!!

Whoopsie daisy! She must've thrown the sack of her workout clothes in the trash by mistake.

You can't work out with an outfit made of kitty litter . . . not even a "litter" bit.

Guess it was her clue to quit letting herself get so . . . pooped . . . and to get more of what they call "margin" in her life. Not to be . . . catty . . . but that's not such a bad idea for all of us!

NINTENDO IN THE WEEDS:
NOW, THERE'S A METAPHOR FOR YOU

Last night, El Magnifico was shooting trap. That left me alone to shoot my mouth off at our daughter, the adorable but homework-averse Maddy. She messed around, she watched TV, she played with the hounds . . . and I caught her playing on her Nintendo DSI a half-hour AFTER I had given her an ultimatum to do her math homework, or else.

Our eyes locked in that eternal Mom-Kid power struggle. Stealth and deceit won out, despite my age, as I snatched her little hand-held right out of her hands, and said she couldn't have it back 'til the weekend.

Lower lip protruding, she stomped off to do her homework at last.

Now imagine the hours of the clock spinning forward, to 9:30 p.m. -- past her bedtime. She wondered where her DSI had gone, so that she could charge it overnight.

It wasn't on the kitchen counter, where I usually put contraband.

It wasn't in my closet, where I hide contraband when the perpetrator is REALLY in trouble.

It wasn't anywhere in sight! We checked the trash, her backpack, her combination chair/junk pile . . . the bright blue handheld device was nowhere to be found!

It had vanished! But it was sooooo late, Maddy went to bed, uncertain of its fate.

After a while, I remembered that I had run outside to pick a few dandelions that evening. Maybe it had fallen out of my pocket? It was dark, so I carried a flashlight. Not a glimpse of it!

Returning to the door, dejected, I glanced at the big blue bucket of weeds. Hmm. You don't suppose?

Sure enough, there was the DSI, halfway down -- a little moist, but none the worse for wear.

Was I tempted to just leave it where it belonged -- among the other weeds and distractions keeping our little girl from acing every subject in school, because of the handheld's siren song of fun and games?

You other mothers, struggling against the lure of kid technology: can I get an "amen!" here?!?

You bet I was tempted. But I'm not crazy . . . so I snuck into her room and told her it was found. She hugged me her deepest thanks, plugged in the charger, and sank back on her pillow with a great, big smile on her face.

Her heart had blossomed into flowers, where before, there were only weeds. Or something like that.

NEVER MARRY A BLACK THUMB;
THEY WILL NEVER 'GET' YOU

I lumbered upstairs. "Where have you been?" my Beloved demanded.

"Checking out the cosmos," I replied.

There was a silence, and a frown. Finally, he broke down. "What do you mean, the cosmos?!?!"

I stared at him. Then the light dawned. "I mean the red cosmos SEEDLINGS that are growing under the lights downstairs. They just got their second pair of leaves, and I'm excited."

He thought I had snapped and was doing some kind of ephereal Carl Sagan thing with a telescope and stuff. But I was just doing my red butterfly-attracting prairie flower thing. Cosmos is part of my gardening . . . cosmos, that's all.

FULL SAIL, WITH THE WIND
IN THEIR . . . DOWN?!?

Isn't this just . . . ducky?!?

IF THE PRICE OF GAS
RISES TOO HIGH. . . .

One of the side benefits of our trip last week to the Kearney (Neb.) Arch and Pioneer Village in Minden, Neb., were the examples of how people got themselves and their stuff from place to place back in the olden days.

The kids in our party ooh'ed at the Mormon handcarts, imagining how hard it must've been to walk from back East to the Great Salt Lake with everything you owned in that cart, fording rivers and whatnot. They aah'ed at the railway pushcarts, and tried them out, with exaggerated energy:

But you know, with the price of gas more than DOUBLING in recent months, us parents have been ooh'ing, aah'ing and ouch'ing at the gas pumps . . . and those two old-fashioned and gas-free methods of transportation aren't looking half bad these days. YIKES!!!!

MOVE OVER, CANCUN:
SPRING BREAKIN' IN CENTRAL NEBRASKA!

Just back from a wonderful day in fabulous Kearney and Minden, Nebraska. They are two towns along I-80 and the Platte River in the less-populated central part of the state. Our daughter and a friend had fun, and got in a little historical learning as well.

We visited the unique museum that is inside a huge arch over I-80 at Kearney. We learned about the prairie pioneers, peeked inside a Native American earth lodge, and realized that today's fiberoptic network follows the same path as the covered wagon wheels of more than 150 years ago along the Oregon Trail.

Not sure the pioneers ever did this to a buffalo . . .

he does look rather startled, doesn't he?

We also visited Harold Warp's Pioneer Village in Minden, which displays an overwhelming number of objects, from 19th Century stagecoaches to stuffed eagles to antique toys.

Who knew you could see an ocean-going yacht,

an antique carousel, a 1910 electric car, and so many

other interesting pieces of American history

out in the middle of nowhere in central Nebraska?

After all that, we were interested to know what the girls liked the best. And here are their replies:

1. They were relieved to learn that we were visiting the KEARNEY Arch. They thought it was the BARNEY Arch!

2. They noticed that the mannequins in the historical scenes at Pioneer Village were all identical; the women just had different wigs on. It looked creepy, like OctoMom being reincarnated from the 1850s to the 1950s. Wonder if they are the first ones to notice this, among all the millions of tourists over the years who have gone through this huge treasure chest of historical artifacts. Something tells me they are. Sigh. :>) 



HAVE SALAD BARS
GONE TOO FAR GREEN?

We were at a very deluxe salad bar for lunch. They had every type of leafy salad green and colorful veggie you could imagine . . . every mixed salad . . . selections from every multicultural country of origin . . . every topping, every dressing, every seed and every nut. Wow!

I heard our daughter and her friend giggling down at the other end of the line. What's so funny about a cornucopia of vegetables?

Turns out they were responding to the amazing variety, too. They didn't even know what most of the food items were. So when they came onto a bowl of some dark green and somewhat slimy stuff, they declared that it was:

POND MOSS!!!!!

And that was the end of THAT salad bar. They headed straight for the hot, cheesy and decidedly NOT GREEN pizza . . . and declared it delicious.

BOSTON MARATHON:
NOBODY WANTS TO GET BEAT BY A HAMBURGER

Our daughter's boyfriend ran in the Boston Marathon yesterday. He arranged with our daughter to meet her at Milepost 20 for just an instant as he ran by.

The magic moment arrived. He angled toward her and their eyes met . . . but suddenly, he was passed by a racing HAMBURGER . . . followed closely by a speeding BUNNY RABBIT.

The boyfriend was shocked. He immediately zoomed back into full-throttle form. The reason: who wants to get outraced by a HAMBURGER and a BUNNY RABBIT?!?!

He finished in 3 hours, 31 minutes -- a very good time. No report on how the cartoon characters did.

A POLICE DETECTIVE,
I AIN'T

It's sad to contemplate what my city's crime rate would be if I were the detective investigating every mystery. I'm so absent-minded, my observation skills have shrunk to nothing. A guy with guns, knives, bombs and dynamite might be standing right in front of my very eyes, and I probably wouldn't even notice.

This morning, I was supposed to be at a certain pancake restaurant at 8:30 a.m. for a meeting.

I got there three minutes early, didn't see my associate's car in the lot, so I sat there to wait. The minutes passed. Ever so slowly, the dawn broke in my brain:

Why are there 14 huge, heavy booths on their sides sitting over there by the dumpster?

Why are there 20 wooden chairs with the seats missing stacked by the front door?

Why are the shelves by the cash register not full of yummy pies as usual?

Why is there a truck next to the front door and people are loading equipment into it?!?

And, most critically: am I not going to get pancakes there today?

My poor brain churned and churned, and finally, I got out and asked somebody.

Turns out they had just closed for remodeling. They will re-open in a week. No, no pancakes today . . . but if I wanted to cram the huge booths and wooden chairs into my Mini Cooper, I was welcome to take them, free.

If I could fit even one of them in, now THAT would be a mystery.

SUCKS TO HAVE
A CORNBALL SENSE OF HUMOR

Our vacuum cleaner was broken. The superstar at the repair shop was able to fix it for a mere $14. I picked it up today, happy at the inexpensive bill.

The repair guru told me the problem all along has been that a belt wasn't installed right in the factory. Now the vac ought to work tons better. No wonder it hasn't picked up dirt all that well these past few years. I thought I wasn't vacuuming right or something.

I was elated. Over my shoulder as I left with the rejuvenated vac in hand, I tossed back what I thought was a hilarious comment:

"I'm going to tell everybody that your repair services SUCK."

He smiled weakly. I thought he'd crack up.

"Suppose you've heard that joke before," I murmured.

"Almost every day," he replied.

Oops! Guess the real vacuum is the one between my ears, for thinking my joke was so great. But at least if there's a vacuum in there, I'm not thinking dirty thoughts!

THE MUSIC MAN
WOULD BE TURNING OVER
IN HIS GRAVE

I've been helping an old family friend get some sheet music lined up for his trio to play. They love to improvise on oldies but goodies. They play by ear, mostly. But sometimes, one of them doesn't know the song that the other two want to play, and it's hard. Here's the kicker: two of the three are in their 80s. The "spring chicken" is in his 50s.

The song they want: "That Old Time Rock 'n' Roll."

Seems easy enough to find the right sheet music, eh? Nyuhh uhh uhhhhh. To help him, I've called a piano teacher, purchased sheet music from a music store, asked my friends on Facebook, downloaded some sample sheets off the Internet, and finally found a good arrangement. Photocopied it, stuck it in the mail, and dusted my hands off. Voila!

Not so fast! It was in the wrong key. He wrote:

"I will learn it and play it for the piano guy or even write out a lead line. Maybe he will learn it in G and I can play it in A on my B flat trumpet. Otherwise I will teach him to play it in F so I can play it in G from the sheet music. Or he will learn it in C and I will play it in D on the trumpet."

Word to the wise: get into music in your old age. If that doesn't strengthen the mind against Alzheimer's, I don't know what will.

PLANNING A TRIP
TO ROUNT MUSHMORE

Previously, the only funny thing in  my memory bank about Mount Rushmore is that there used to be a sports reporter in the newsroom where I worked who used to wear HIDEOUS ties. The hands-down worst was a light-up tie that depicted the Presidents' faces on Mount Rushmore. One day, other journalists held the poor guy down and CUT OFF that tie, it was so ugly. It was the most exciting day in the newsroom for years.

But now I've learned that a young cousin of mine starting calling this national treasure "Rount Mushmore," and their whole family continues to do so today. I have caught the bug . . . and so if we go, as we're discussing, this summer, that will no doubt be the way we refer to the destination, too.

I won't let my Beloved buy a light-up Rount Mushmore tie like that when we're up there . . . but I might let him get this T-shirt:

I HATE ADMITTING MY FAULTS
TO APPLIANCE REPAIR PEOPLE

We have this great kitchen stove vent that pops up and down from the back of the stove. It's like something out of a sci fi movie. CAN YOU TELL I DON'T GET OUT MUCH?!?

No, actually, it's neat. It makes a little "hum" and rises probably eight inches to a stop. Then you can turn on the blower. When you're done, you press the button, and down it goes again 'til the next time it's needed.

But . . . a couple of weeks ago, I let a big pot of water boil over. Apparently, it ran down into the guts of the stove underneath, and shorted out our wonderful vent. It remained in the "up" position and would neither turn on nor descend into its little slot any more.

Finally, I called the repair guy and told him. He knows me well. We decided that on the call sheet, it should say, "They're stuck up at the Williams household."

Sighhhhh. :>) But happy news: he fixed it in a jiffy today. Now I'm $85 poorer . . . but no longer stuck up.

WISH THEY DIDN'T TEACH SO MUCH
ABOUT FOSSILS IN SCIENCE CLASS

We were walking along in the mall when the 11-year-old pundit saw the FOSSIL store and stood stock still.

"Mom, I want to take your picture in front of that store wearing your great, big glasses from the '80s, your Steve Urkel Mom jeans, and your fanny pack," she informed me.

Aw, darn. That means, in her eyes, I'm really, really, really, really (30 minutes later), really, really OLD.