Jon & Kate, OctoMel, OctoMom, and Cristal Taylor

They all have one thing in common.....in my opinion - their 15 minutes of fame is over so , "GET OFF MY TV." All of them, of free will, have decided to parade their lives in front of us - lets recap: a slightly bonkers actor who is a big fan of Mr. Jack Daniel and Mr. Johnny Walker who has decided to get his girlfriend pregnant; two slightly bonkers women who had the need to see who could cram the most number of children in a space built for one; and a slightly bonkers woman who has a history of being a grifter who dated and got engaged to an NBA player, but she happens to forget that she has outstanding warrants in two state, and gets arrested at his home during the playoffs and finds out she is knocked up upon entering prison. Oh my lord - I am so over their "woe is me mentality." REALLY?!?!? The woe is mine.....and yet we are so drawn to the drama like a month to a flame.....why?!?!?! I think it's because we somehow need to validate, through their woes, that our life just may not be that bad. It is a sad commentary that we have become a society of voyeurs - it is true and I am am one of them. But what makes me more sad, in this era of electronic media, is these stories will never die and how horrible for the children. This is who really suffers - this crazy crap will be around until all these kids are well into their 80's and will reappear with little or no notice when a media outlet needs to boost sales or ratings. And the absolute most horrible thing about all of this - these kids didn't have a choice - these kids became meal tickets for their parents. For Jon and Kate - all the freebies. Hair transplants, tummy tucks, vacations, million dollar house all at the courtesy of TV viewers - getting something for nothing. For OctoMel - I am sure that the movie scripts will becoming his way with a bit more frequency as the due date of his 8th baby nears. For the OctoMom - already on state assistance when she gets pregnant with 8 - a cycle that will perpetuate itself with her children getting something for nothing. And Cristal Taylor who through her selfish behavior will give birth in prison and will never work a day again in her life because she will commit her life to raising her child which will require her not to work. And she will need to bring up the child in an environment to which she has become accustomed.

So as much as I rant, my husband rants or my kids rant - my four loads of laundry, my bedroom that has a family of dusty bunnies living under the bed, and a double car garage that only parks one (we are getting ready to have a garage sale) somehow doesn't seem quite so bad after watching their lives crumpled before me on TV. I really do care, but shut-up, deal with the situation you created, and get off my TV - I am trying to watch America's Next Top Model - Season 1 and you keep interrupting.

Chesty Puller and Eleanor Duncan

I grew up with the tradition of visiting graves on Memorial Day with my Grandma Duncan. The entourage that usually accompanied my Grandma were my sister, my mom, an aunt or two and trunk load of flowers cut from my Grandma's backyard It was an all day trip to graves in Ft. Riley, Leonardville, Riley and Linn. I hated Memorial Day because when all my friends were at the opening weekend of the city pool or at the lake - I was sweating in the back seat listening to AM radio cracking and popping while my grandma drove down a gravel road with the windows down. Neither my dad nor my grandma thought it necessary to purchase a car with air conditioning until much later in their life.....couldn't break off the extra bucks for something so fancy....what would the relatives think?!?!?

I can clearly remember flags on each veteran's grave, flowers, old men and women meandering in and around the graves.......I couldn't even wrap my brain around why all of these people were just hanging about. My philosophy then was get in and get out....drop the flowers, pull a few weeds, exchange a few pleasantries with others also there. This is where my philosophy severely collided with my Grandma Duncan - Eleanor. Eleanor's goal was to provide a thorough family history of the particular individual, what part they played for our country and family and how and when they died. This soliloquy played out like a Shakespearean play at every tombstone and cemetery. At some point, I would see her mouth moving and yet I never heard a word she uttered. My thoughts were far away diving and jumping in and out of the pool and the smell of baby oil lightly scenting the air. MISSY! Did you hear what I said? Huh? And without the slightest - I said "NO." Again it was one of those moments that you realize that your outside voice was saying exactly what your inside voice was suppose to keep quiet. And that was the only time that I can ever recall telling Grandma that I wasn't listening. As it was followed by a swift swat to my rear from my mom and the scariest stink eye that a grandma could give you. AND THEN...........the story started over with the same enthusiasm and clarity as if the the events had only unfolded yesterday. It was here and then that I determined that I would be cremated so not to have to inflict the same drudgery to my children and their children on each and every Memorial Day.

On this Memorial Day over 500 miles away from those cemeteries, I find myself taking down my flag before sunset and pausing to give a silent thanks to those who have gone before us in the name of God and Country. And to those who served proudly and are still with us, those presently serving, and to those of you in the future who will serve. It seems so trite to say thank-you, but it is offered from the heart. And although I still want to be cremated, I would give anything to spend one more Memorial Day with my Grandma Duncan visiting graves, dropping off flowers and listening with the finest tuned ear to every noun, verb and adjective that came out of her mouth. Grandma, thank-you and I will see you in July. It is me who leaves little stones on your tombstone. And "Good night Chesty, wherever you are!!!"

Let Me Put My Glasses On...Oh, Now I Can See The Fashion

Fashion. A word that either instills a great fear in 50% of the women on the earth or brings the other 50% to euphoric levels. I happen to be in the first 50%. I have always been blue jean, sweatshirt and boots kinda of girl, but I was born to a first level fashionista (my mom) who gave birth to a second fashionista (my sister) - they fall in the latter 50% of the population. The first and second level fashionista's (FLF and SLF, respectively) tried hard as they could to make me more fashion forward as I was growing - they would get excited about going to the fabric store spending what felt like hours pouring over pattern books and looking at bolt after bolt of material......and there I would be in the back with my head down on the McCall's pattern book yawning and complaining. This scenario would repeat itself with precision almost weekly. Don't get me wrong - I was able to dress up periodically for the occasional family wedding or graduation ceremony, but everyday?!?!?! I was content with t-shirts and earth shoes. Even in college, I wore overalls and long underwear shirts - I was comfortable; however, my sister had other ideas. She finally cornered me and said, "Donna, you are a junior and you look like a farmer." And in the next breath, she says, "And you don't even wear makeup!!!" And all along - I thought I had it together - oh - how wrong I was and that was just Manhattan, Kansas. Phase One of incorporating fashion into my life.

Jump forward a couple of years and I land in Dallas, Texas - the land of the beautiful, always dressed women. I worked with women who kept logs in their closet of the items of clothes that they had worn from day to day as so not to wear the same thing within the same month. Oh heavens, I was just trying not to wear the same thing in the same week. And silly me - I really only thought that you needed 3 pairs of pumps: black, blue and brown. The women I worked with matched the nails to their shoes to their outfits - everyday - and I didn't even wear lipstick. These became known as the peripheral fashionistas (PF) who have invaded my life and brought on Phase Two of incorporating fashion into my life.

Take another leap forward about 11 years and Phase Three of incorporating fashion into my life - I give birth to a baby daughter. Everyone says that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and it really holds true except in one area.......you guessed it....fashion. She has become the third level fashionista (TLF) who blesses my life. This girl can change her clothes as many as five times a day, she loves shoes, purses, hair accessories.....in short anything fashion - she loves it. It is all cyclical and I prefer lounge pants, hair pulled back in a ponytail, flip flops these days and I am quite content. Which does serve me well with the TLF.....so like a noteworthy royal I have good blood lines. I can call on the FLF when the TLF "needs" to shop. The FLF steps in with giddy anticipation. They speak of things that make my head spin like Linda Blair in the Exorcist.....trying on clothes and malls. I would rather spork my brain out. The FLF and the TLF went shopping over the weekend for a 5th grade graduation dress and where gone about 4 hours and they came home with a great dress with the perfect shoes. Neither could have been more happy than if they would have been angels playing harps and drinking honey. Thanks, mom - you do make my life easier (especially since my son is a fashionista as well)!!!!

I can be fashion challenged - I am not too proud to say it aloud. And yes - I admit that I have to ask the TLF which shoes look better with my outfit. Go ahead-do the math. A 48 year old asking an 11 year old for fashion advice....not a pretty picture, but she is always right for which I am thankful. After living in Dallas for 24 years - a little bit of fashion does rub off on you.

Truth be told - there is one area of fashion that I don't spare the expense. Eyeglasses. The most recent pair came in delightful blue box marked Tiffany's. It was a decadent purchase for which I don't apologize. One would deduce that I have entered Phase Four of incorporating fashion into my life. Does that mean that I have become a mindful luxury immersed fashionista - a MLIF?!?!?! Oh wait - that might be something completely different......Anne Wintour eat your heart out.

Give Me The Flying Monkeys Anyday

I grew up in the age of no movie rentals, no DVD purchases and quite frankly I can remember when we got a color TV, which was a huge deal even though we only got three channel, but I digress. The point that I wanted to make is that you had to wait from year to year for certain shows to air on TV. Once year you got to see The Wizard of Oz which always seemed to air around Thanksgiving, The Sound of Music - December, and Chitty, Chitty Bang-Bang in October. And here is where I want to make my point. I love the movie Chitty, Chitty Bang-Bang (CCBB) I love the car, and I love to sing the songs. However, there is a part of the movie that I HATE and to this day it gives me the creeps. It is the "Child Catcher" - the one who smells out the children and then captures them and sends them to the underground caves to live. He had that long nose that allowed him to smell the kids, that pale makeup that made him appear that he never really saw the light of day, long black hair, a top hat with flowers on it and a net so big that could lift a shark out of the ocean with it. Ooohhh - it makes me shudder and makes the hair on my body stand-up. Someone must have been strung out on crack and booze when they decided what the child catcher should look like in this film. Holy cow, I will take the flying monkeys any day. After watching CCBB - it would take me about 4 days and nights before I could shake the child catcher much to my sister's disdain. Being a year younger she took great pride in the fact that he didn't seem to bother her that much. I know that you are probably saying to yourself, "Donna, why not stop watching the movie if it bothers you that much?" And I would reply, "Because it only came on once a year." Fast forward to 2009. You find that you regret the minute that it leaves your mouth - when you mentioned to your 17 year old son that the child catcher gives you the creeps. And being the caring, loving son that he is - it has now become his wall paper on his computer and he added "Hi Donna" in black and red letters. Oh and did I mention that he will periodically pull the clip from the internet and play it for me. A what nice son and what a wonderful thing the internet is. [Insert Sarcasm Here]

I went out on the internet to see who portrayed the Child Catcher. An actor named Robert Helpmann who out of character and without makeup still looks that if he turned around quickly he would instantly be in character. He was made a Sir in the British Empire and by all accounts was recognized as a great actor from Australia. However, when he died The Times in London wrote he was "...strange, haunting, and rather frightening." I feel somehow that my fear justified especially when the The Times was scared of him also.

Did I mention that I think that the Burger King "King" creeps me out as well????

Earning the Girl Scout Badge - Part II

PART II:

1. Don't waste your money on the colonic - it is an easy way to lose weight, but you have to be committed - I mean really committed. You will not leave your house for a good 8 hours - heck - you might not even leave a 40 foot area. And there better be a bathroom within that 40 feet....enough said.

2. Corn is the same...enough said on that.

3. I lost 4 pounds total, but gained a huge appreciation for soft 4-ply tissue...enough said

To confirm, I did earn the girl scout colonoscopy badge and passed with flying colors. Now if I can just find time to earn the "Underwater Basket Weaving" badge.

Bubbie, Baby Milo, and Six Cents: got to love a nickname - I do!!!

Do you ever wonder how get their nicknames? I must admit that I do. I also admit that I read the obits everyday - I know that sounds morbid - but I love to see how people lived their lives, but more so I love to see people's nicknames. There are always the "Bill" for William; "Patti" for Patricia; "Donnie" for Donald; "Ken" for Kenneth; "Cathy" for Catherine and I get those nicknames. The nicknames that have always confused me are "Peg" for Margaret; "Ted" for Edward; "Dick" for Richard - who thought of those - they don't even make sense?!?!?! If someone knows the history behind those - let me know - I would love to mark this off my list of things to periodically ponder. Now let's talk about great nicknames of the recently dearly departed that have appeared in the obits - may you rest in peace. Drum roll, please and in no particular order:

• Chicken
• Snookie
• Tweetie Bird
• Curly
• Butta
• Toots
• Chilie
• Light-Brown
• Beanie
• T-Bone
• S-Girl
• Topsy
• Double
• Dodo
• Topsy

My dad's best friend is called Fish (Gene) and my dad is Bollweevil or Uncle Piney (Don). My sister was called Grub until she figured out it was a worm that lived in the ground and threw a major temper tantrum. After that she was called Sonie (Sondra). My cousin dated a girl called Six Cents (Penny Ann Nickle). My step-sister is called Doone (Lori). Me????? Well, my dad has always called me Missy - and to this day still addresses envelopes and packages to Missy - I love it. The other nicknames that I have had are slightly more obvious - DP and DJ. And now my kids call me Flipper.

I know that most people shudder when you find out their nicknames - I am just the opposite - I find that giving or getting a nickname is sign of endearment and life would be just a bit less colorful without Boogs, Sqweeb, and The Boy. And for the record.....for about 6-12 months (in high school) I was anointed Zero by the little brother of my first boyfriend.

Vitamin D, Dancing Trees, and Dog Spit

How often are you still? No - not sleeping still, but really still.....outside and using all of your senses to take it all in? I too have to admit that it has been awhile since I went outdoors and was still. Today I remedied that. The sun came out and I decided to be still in my backyard. It was an amazing 30 minutes. First, the sun played a game of hide and seek with the clouds and it warmed me - not too hot - but just right - a nice way to absorb a good dose of vitamin D. And while I lay there on the trampoline, there was a concert of sounds surrounding me. I heard birds chirping and I heard birds squawking, I heard several planes overheard - one heading north and a few minutes later - one heading south. And if I was very still I could hear Tim (our dog) breathing next to me. Being a particularly windy day there were times the wind blew so gently that my hair caressed my face and it tickled. And other times it was so gusty that I could hear it rumbling through my ears.

And while adjusting my sunglasses during a fervent gust, the weeping willow appeared to be doing "the dance of a thousand veils" each branch swaying to and fro as if choreographed just for me and just as quick the wind changed directions and the magnolia tree bellowed back with its thick shiny leaves asking for attention. Beautiful, giant, white, bowl-sized blooms presented themselves to me with head swirling aroma. These are trees in my backyard that I see everyday; however, I usually don't see them like I saw them today.

The sounds of nature were serenading me into a peaceful level of unconsciousness....I was strolling on the sand, the sea mist spraying me in the face while the ocean cooled my feet - picture it if you can. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM....my peace was interrupted with a barrage of bass resonating from the neighbor's car radio. And within an instant, I began to process that the sea mist spraying my face was really sweat rolling down my face and the ocean cooling my feet was Tim licking my feet. So much for my serenity of being still with my senses.

If you find that you have 30 minutes to spare - think about being still in your own backyard; however, you probably should set aside another 15 minutes because you will need to shower off the sweat and dog spit. ~Donna~

Earning a Girl Scout Badge

I feel like I am getting ready to earn a girl scout badge. No, I am not going to build a bird house out of toothpicks or learn how to build a fire with only foil and a stick. No - I am doing something that is much more intense with explosive results........I am going to have a colonoscopy on Thursday - YEAH!!! Ok - insert (maybe a bad choice of words) all jokes here and go ahead and sing the Roto-Rooter song. (Which once you do - it will be stuck in your head all day. Go ahead try it....don't say I didn't warn you). You know everyone has a story about having "one" done and how bad the prep work is.....really.....how bad can it be drinking clear liquids for a day laced with laxatives?!?!? Of course, my doctor did say today that I should stay close to home while using the "prep" - what a nice word. I am going to re-name this process to "POO-BE-GONE" (echo, echo, echo) or the medical acronym PBG.

So here is my plan for this scientific adventure of PBG:

1. I will be taking my weight first thing in the morning for a benchmark. The goal is to tell you afterwards if an over-the-counter colonic is really worth your disposable cash for that upcoming reunion or wedding that you want to attend.

2. DISCLAIMER -for those of you with a weak stomach - don't read and go to number 3. They always say that corn does not digest and that it comes out looking the same as it went in....I am having corn tonight find out if this is fact or fiction. After this I may become Michael Newman - who firmly believes that nothing good comes out of eating corn and that in the end it will kill you.

3. Record my weight loss throughout the day.

I know that this not a typical topic of conversation, but if you can't talk about poo amongst friends; what can you talk about it?!?! I will keep you posted - I just hope I am worthy of the badge!!!!

Punch Drunk - Fat Lip

Not sure how this happened, but this morning I woke up with a fat lip. Not the slightly swollen lip, but the kind that you get if you are in a good bar room brawl, nasty chick fight, an allergic reaction to shellfish or a visit to Pam Anderson's cosmetic surgeon - none of which occured this past weekend. I thought something was amiss when I woke up and I could see my upper lip protruding out from underneath my nose, but I wrote it off to not being fully awake. I continued to edge downstairs toward a cup of coffee, and noticed how Tim (our dog) was looking at me. You know the look.....head turned to the side, ears back, thinking to himself - what in the world happened to her?!?!?!. So maybe it was worth a second look - and there it was staring at me in the mirror - a fat upper lip......this is when I started racking my brain. Did I sleep walk and run into the wall??? Did I dream that I was a prize fighter taking on Ali and punch myself in the face??? I cannot for the life of me figure what the heck I might have done that would have caused the fat lip, but it was and is still worthy of an ice pack. All day I have been icing it and it goes down for a while, but remove the ice and WHOOSH just like I blew up a balloon.

Here is where I might need to mention that I have had a difficult time sleeping the last three nights and I have taken an Ambien, to no avail, to help me sleep through the night which has resulted in me being a bit punch drunk due to lack of sleep. I think tonight I will try a glass of wine before I lay my head down and see if that helps. But just in case...if you saw me in a bar room brawl with a chick named Pam Anderson over raw shrimp - could you call me and let me know???? It would answer a few questions for me. Of course one questions still remains - how I got the tattoo that resides lower than my low rise jeans.

A Muumuu, Caftan, or Bata de Casa by any other name

When I was growing up, I had friends whose moms stayed at home and there seemed to be a "uniform" that they all wore......flat shoes and the house dress. It was the uniform of domesticity and grandmas. It was a time of - kids to school, kids home for lunch, daily laundry, baking cookie and cupcakes, dinner, dishes, kids bathed, bedtime stories and mom always took a bath. Sorry I digress....back to the house dress which is my real focus!!! For those of you who are too young to know the house dress (because everyone my age and older know the house dress) - let me try to paint a visual for you. Loose fitting dress/shift some with elastic around the neck for those moms who where a bit larger or a button front for the more petite moms. The material seemed to be last years lawn chair; although, it was lightweight. This enable mom to work and yet still be "dressed."

Fast forward to the 21 century. The housewives of 2009 are running and gunning with kids, errands, but they are no uniforms, like yesteryear. The uniform now runs the gamut of `uber chic to `uber sloppy even for grandmas. That is until today, when reading the Dallas Morning News I see an advertisement from Dillard's and guess what they are selling?!?!?! You guessed it........The 1960 housewives uniform - the house dress; however, it is no longer called the house dress. It is now called "The Patio Dress." Are you kidding me.........I know a house dress when I see one. A Patio Dress?!?!?...do you only wear it while on the patio.....hhhmmmm......it me see if I can visualize this........"Chris, wait a minute - let me run upstairs and put on my patio dress before we begin sipping our adult beverages on the patio." I shutter to think.

I loved seeing my grandma in her house dress and I didn't even mind seeing Mrs. Black puttering around her in her garden tending weeds bent over in her house dress. AND I understand the notion of fashion trends when everything old is new again, but really......this dress?!?!? I am calling all women who have purchasing power to stand up and boycott the clandestine resurgence of the House Dress. Don't' be fooled ladies it was not pretty or flattering then and it is not now. In my best Scarlett O'Hara voice, "As God is my witness, I shall never be a caught dead in a house dress regardless of my age."

Of course, you will need disregard the pictures of me in the islands - where it is the muumuu and becomes stylish; or the pictures on the promenade deck of the Princess -where it is called the caftan and it stylish ship wear or pictures from Ixpata, Mexico where it called the Bata de Casa and it just sounds stylish.

So as Mother's Day nears don't be fooled - the Patio Dress is just a House Dress wrapped up in a fancy title. ~Donna~

Pondering Poe and Panic Attacks

"Through joy and through sorrow, I wrote. Through hunger and through thirst, I wrote. Through good report and through ill report, I wrote. Through sunshine and through moonshine, I wrote. What I wrote it is unnecessary to say." ~Edgar A. Poe~

Do you think that Poe had panic attacks? I have read several versions of Poe's demise....ending with being found in a gutter in France suffering from dellusions. Had modern medicine been available, could Poe have been the poster child for Xanax and gone on to more literary victories??? I wonder. I have always loved the written word and took comfort many an afternoon in the Manhattan Public Library after many junior high days.......always longing to be an author. And yet when I decided to start a blog, I never thought that on the second day that I would have a panic attack. What would be said, who would read this, who would care....oddly enough......much would be said, many would care. I received an email from an old classmate - who thanked me for the blog as she was going through some medical issues and had to have some tests run and didn't feel so alone after reading my blog. I am touched. Along with words of gratitude have come words of caution which have weighed heavily on me. Someone once told me that when it appears that people are against you - you might be wrong or you might be 100% right. I love the written word and this feels right - so like Poe - I will write in times of sorrow and joy; in sunshine and moonshine and through good report and ill report.

Just for today, I will raise a glass of Cognac to honor Poe. ~Donna~

DISCLAIMER (of sorts)..there always seems to be one!!!

The views expressed within this blog are mine and mine only. This blog serves as....well.....a blog......it allows a personal glimpse into my quirky world and it is not intended to harm anyone nor is it intended to replace medical, financial, emotional, physical, spiritual, or educational advice that you might need to obtained from a professional.
~Donna~

MRI, Abraham Lincoln and Danish Royalty?!?!?

This morning I had an MRI (I am in the frequent scanner club - have 4 done, get the 5th free) and while I was laying there amongst the cornacopia of clanks, clunks and changchangchang, I started pondering the last 24 hours of newsworthy items and not-so-items. For the first 30 minutes, I wondered why there is a doctor out there who wants to test a cloth soaked in Abraham Lincoln's brain matter and blood to determine if he was dying of cancer. Really?!!? Why do we need to know this? Do we care? Will we re-write history books? If it doesn't matter to his descendants - why does it matter to us?? Don't get me wrong - I am a big fan of Lincoln's - I just think this may cross the line. Speaking of Lincoln.....when you see a penny do you pick it up??? My grandma used to always say, "Find a penny pick it up - all day long you'll have good luck." I admit - I do.

For the second 30 minutes of the MRI (this portion with contrast), I pondered Danish royalty...I know right........how many are there, where do they live and why do we call them Danes? Germans from Germany, Austrians from Austria, Fins from Finland, Swedes from Sweden - so it should be Dens from Denmark...right?!? When was it decided and by who that Dens would become Danes??? Doesn't that seem a bit odd???

Today I am having lunch with Gray - I am taking her McDonald's and then getting Mason early from school...today he gets his braces off. Finally will have pictures again with him showing his teeth.....until the next glass of whine. ~Donna~

Tappin' the First Box

Now that I have some extra time on my hands.......for those of you who don't know; I am out on medical leave - no, not swine flu - I will be having the last of surgery in a week or so.....I will keep you posted. I thought I would jump into the technology pool of blogs.....I hope my floaties work!!!! As a newbie....I am only at the bubble blowing stage, but before you know it - I will be flutter kicking all over this "pool." Where do I start?!?!?! I have read the newspaper, had a cup of coffee, watched some news, and oh yes, I am still lounging in my jammies.....OMG.....this is how is it begins......one day a blogger - the next day - world headlines....700 pound woman stuck in bed with computer and chicken salad sandwich lodged under her armpits - city donates front-end loader for removal....now isn't that a visual. I will have to find things to do or I will be that headline!!!!!! I need to make several doctors appointments, go to the grocery, pick Mason and Gray from school and volley ball practice tonight. So this is what "stepford wives" do.......hhhmmmm...let me find my pearls. Let's raise a glass of wine to my first blog!!!