More Questions to Ponder

This is going around the Internet and my cousin sent it to me. I love these questions. If you have some witty answers, let me know.

If you have sex with a prostitute against her will, is it considered rape or shoplifting?

Can you cry under water?

How important does a person have to be before they are considered assassinated instead of just murdered?

Why do you have to "put your two cents in"... but it's only a "penny for your thoughts"? Where's that extra penny going to?

Once you're in heaven, do you get stuck wearing the clothes you were buried in for eternity?

Why does a round pizza come in a square box?

What disease did cured ham actually have?

How is it that we put man on the moon before we figured out it would be a good idea to put wheels on luggage?

Why is it that people say they "slept like a baby" when babies wake up like every two hours?

If a deaf person has to go to court, is it still called a hearing?

Why are you IN a movie, but you're ON TV?

Why do people pay to go up tall buildings and then put money in binoculars to look at things on the ground?

Why do doctors leave the room while you change? They're going to see you naked anyway.

Why is "bra" singular and "panties" plural?

Why do toasters always have a setting that burns the toast to a horrible crisp, which no decent human being would eat?

If Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why is there a stupid song about him?

Can a hearse carrying a corpse drive in the carpool lane ?

Why does Goofy stand erect while Pluto remains on all fours? They're both dogs!

If Wile E. Coyote had enough money to buy all that ACME crap, why didn't he just buy dinner?

If corn oil is made from corn, and vegetable oil is made from vegetables, what is baby oil made from?

If electricity comes from electrons, does morality come from morons?

Why do the Alphabet song and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star have the same tune?

Why did you just try singing the two songs above?

Why do they call it an asteroid when it's outside the hemisphere, but call it a hemorrhoid when it's in your butt?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him for a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

A Simplified Christmas

For the first time in at least 18 years, I will not be celebrating Christmas in my usual fashion. I will not be organizing a family photo, addressing and mailing hundreds of cards, decorating every room, trimming a live tree or hosting any parties. I will not be buying gifts and wrapping for hours. (Ok, I might buy the dog a new toy.) I will not be coordinating schedules to accommodate other people. I enjoy doing most of these things but this is not the year for it.

I am not skipping Christmas. I'm already listening to holiday music. I will help my oldies trim a small tree. I will keep my mother and sister company while they do their annual candy making. I will help my mother prepare a holiday meal. I will enjoy the children's Christmas show and the choir's cantata at church.

Tradition and rituals are important to me. This will be my first Christmas making some new ones.

Adjustments

Before I get all gushy and goofy about the kindness of my oldies, I will share this with you. I'm convinced they lie in bed at night and say to each other, "And exactly why did we decide to have this child?"

In a few short days, I have managed to:

Disrupt their household and routines.

Rearrange furniture and wag my finger at things. The motion means, "That's gotta go."

Completely traumatize their little dogs with my little pony.

Lock myself out because it took me a while to understand the Ft. Knox system. That includes setting off the alarm.

Maybe I'm adjusting too well. The other night they had plans with friends. Although I was invited, I chose to stay and continue digging through paperwork and have them bring me a sandwich. I have adjusted to eating dinner at 5:00 so around 5:30, I started thinking, "Where is my sandwich?"

Bad Boys, Bad Boys

Do you ever watch "Cops?" I must admit that this particular show has never made it to my must-see TV schedule. But last night my oldies were preparing to eat a little ice cream (I'm in!) and watch a little TV. I stretched out across the end of their bed hoarding my ice cream from the little dogs. "Cops" is apparently a Saturday night ritual. I pretended to work on the crossword puzzle but I got sucked in too.

Then I got the giggles. The alleged criminals are so stupid! Between my laughter and my mother's running commentary, my father started saying, "Shut up, please!" Of course, this only made me laugh harder. At one point he said, "Third warning! Shut up, please!" (He says this with a great deal of charm but the annoyance on his face is apparent.)

My father is my hero and he tolerates oh so much from me. He would never admit it but I think he's a little freaked out for reasons that are obvious to me. It's not my presence and it's not my dog. It's not the emotional cesspool I am swimming in.

It's very simple: My mother and I never shut up. And when the laughter starts to roll, any attempt to contain it makes it worse. We just screech louder.

It feels good to laugh loud and often. The bad boy of this house is going to have to get over it.

Doggie Dynamics

Houseboy brought the maniac dog to me yesterday. Sorry to be ridiculous but I wept. Perhaps the reason I am so crazy about the maniac is she has been my bright spot. I didn't realize how much until the last few days.

My current oldies (although they are not very old) have been kind enough to let me live with them, mooch off them, etc. I run around rearranging their furniture, interrupting their well-oiled routine, making coffee at 5:00am, etc. The dog has always been an issue with female oldie. She's slightly afeared of big dogs (bad episode in her childhood) but she's also aware that the Gabster can be a tornado, i.e. "Hope you didn't like all that glass stuff on the table because I just wiped it out with my tail."

Here's a couple of other reasons I wept:

I was reminded, repeatedly, that there are still people who value something other than material possessions.
I stood in awe as my oldies said, "We would never ask you to go without your dog. We'll figure it out."

They have two little dogs -- a sweetie and a biter (although she's growing on me.) The biter thinks she is the alpha dog; Gabby has no desire to be the alpha dog but she freaks them out. We're all getting acclimated. Gabby slept with me last night and she keeps looking at me like, "You never told me this was an option."

I don't think the little dogs are having a barking good time but who knows? Sometimes it's good to have your world shaken a bit. Trust me. I know.

Big Sal

My friend, Big Sal, was honored this weekend. Her husband and family threw her a big, splashing bash for her 60th birthday. 60 is the new 40 and she doesn't even look 40. As usual, I'm surrounded by freaks of nature -- and she's a natural beauty -- no Joan Rivers plan involved.

She's also crazy. She has crashed more cars than I can count. She put the wrong gas (regular instead of diesel) in her husband's company vehicle. She lost some diamond earrings and convinced that one of her dogs may have eaten them, she spent days checking their poop and having them x-rayed. I don't want to know what that cost.

On her actual birthday, she brought tiaras to the pool on Labor Day and girlfriends walked around with crowns. She is the accessory queen. We all got plastic tiaras but she found a great crown in a second hand store, complete with rhinestones. She also provided boas. She is my shopping guru.

The husband and I showed up at the party, ready to salute our friend. We knew most people but I found it interesting that the first person we met at the top of the stairs was our governor.

She may giggle like a schoolgirl or make us all laugh. She's got friends in high places. Mostly, she shows me what it's like to embrace life, embrace friends and family, and show the rest of us how to balance dignity and abandon.

At the pool on Labor Day, Big Sal was flipping and diving off the board. I did too. (It's a rule that I have to do it at least once a year.)

Once I admired a jacket she was wearing. She gave it to me. She bought it at the Goodwill and she'll find another one.

We call her Big Sal although she is tiny. The "Big" part is a reflection of her spirit and her heart.

Light-colored Carpeting

When we renovated and moved into this house 12 years ago, we chose light carpeting. I have no idea what we were thinking. The baby was 8-years old -- an age that involves climbing trees and lots of muddy exploring. We had a big, black dog and now we have another one.

For three years, we had the oldies with us. That involved multiple stains of every imaginable type.

The husband's drink of choice is red wine. He routinely knocks it over while reaching for glasses or the remote control.

In 12 years, we've had lots of parties. There's an old saying, "It ain't a party until something gets broken." In our case, it ain't a party until something gets spilled.

I don't need photos to remember our years (so far) in this house. I can look at the carpeting.

One of my friends is trained as an interior decorator. She also owns several homes. As you can imagine, they're all beautiful. She told me once that carpeting should be in one of three color palettes: sand, sea or grass. If I ever buy new carpeting, I will take her advice.

I Still Sit Like This

People make jokes about those of us who choose to sit on the floor. Are we sitting at our husbands' feet? Are we not worthy of a real chair?

Some of my best studying and my best writing has been done in this weird position.

Keep your chairs. I'm going to sit on the floor. Plus, there's room for a dog in the crook of my knee.

People With Influence -- Part Two

So many people impact me, even when they have no idea.

That first person, that boy or girl who you dreamt about and pined for ...

Your first love. We all define it differently but I know who mine was and he was definitely an influence.

The aunts and uncles who took you on dates, bought cute clothes for you and put up with you when your parents needed a break. Their influence in my life cannot be calculated. I still call or email and ask, "Will you help me?"

The cousins who forget that you're not a sibling. They drop what they're doing and say, "What can I do?" I have a cousin who occasionally sends emails to his family. It's his wife, mother and siblings. Somehow, I made the list and I get a little giddy whenever I see my name on the family list. Another cousin with an extremely busy life manages to make me feel important and relevant. She confides in me. And, she lets her daughter visit -- knowing I'm probably a bad influence.

The animals (okay -- technically, not people) who run to you, slather you with kisses, do the "I'm so happy you're here" dance.

Neighbors. We've all gotten so wrapped up in ourselves that we can forget to be good neighbors. I like it when a neighbor calls to say, "There's someone in your yard, is he supposed to be there?" I grew up in an environment where neighbors looked out for each other.

The children. Busy with their own lives and their own struggles. Yet, they manage to find time to email, phone or text. Somewhere in there is a message of love.

Grandparents. If you're lucky enough to still have them: hug them. call them. Soak up their love and their knowledge. (Ask them for money.)

In-laws. I miss the Captain and the Belle. They influenced me in a great and profound way.

Oldies. Take a lesson from me. Help that old woman with her groceries. Ask that man if he needs help across the street. Listen to their stories. You're not doing them a favor -- you're getting an education.

The husband. Maybe you have one of those marriages where you never disagree, you never get on each other's nerves and you never break a promise. I don't. I have a marriage that keeps me on my toes. (I tried it the other way -- I got bored.) I like learning from my spouse. If nothing else, he keeps me interested.

Sometimes You Do Want It

The daughter gave me a wonderful calendar and this photo is copied from it. The caption reads, "I don't really want it. It's just the principle of the thing."

That's true sometimes. But I'm also guilty of the struggle to prove I can win.

Water Heaven

We just returned from our friends' lake cottage. It's a lot of packing and driving for less than two days but I don't care. We have a system and I can pack in 10 minutes as long as someone as done the laundry. Ooops! That would be me. We haul the dog, her crate, her bag, nine million toys and tennis balls. It would've been easier to adopt a baby and take his or her stuff along. (Of course, Child Protective Services probably frowns when you get tired of them and throw them in a crate for a break. -- Wait a minute! In my childhood, those were called playpens.

The weather forecast was lousy. I didn't care. After driving through some rain Friday night, we arrived to friends sitting on the patio. Saturday morning was gray, rainy, etc. The women of the cottage took the dogs for a romping walk in the rain, mud and muck. They had a darn good time.

Then, the skies cleared. The sun came out. I did my best to stay outside. Oh, I slept inside, went in to make a sandwich, etc. but soaked it in. Wet dogs shaking off after a swim. Little children on neighboring piers learning to flip and dive. Sunsets over the water. This is the womb for me.

We had six adults, one teenager plus dogs: two golden retrievers, one yellow Lab and our maniac black Lab. They could all get a job at Walmart because they are excellent greeters. Gabby plants herself on the stairs between the house and the pier in case anyone needs to go up or down. There are many dogs on both sides but somehow, they all get along.

Today, we took a long boat ride, courtesy of some friends, and enjoyed a leisurely lunch. Then we packed it all up and headed home. The husband headed to the driving range and I headed to the laundry room.

Not Disappointed

Yesterday was the beginning of my goldies weekend. You now how sometimes you look forward to something with such anticipation that you feel let down because it didn't live up to your expectations? This is not the case. So far it's even better than I dared to hope.

Yes, I did cry in the airport.

We all had our questions but Jan kept calling to remind us not to start them without her. We had enough food and drinks for an army. Once the three of us were in the same room, any sane person would've had a head spin. We couldn't talk fast enough. My goddaughters came over and I noticed some eye rolling at how silly the three of us can become.

Did I mention that Jan needed to have her dogs out of her house for a couple of hours so at one point, we had my maniac dog and her three dogs running around. Gabby thought this was a big party just for her!

Other than our husbands and children, we know each other better than anyone else in the world. Yet, we still keep learning about each other. Within the first hour, we had cried and then laughed until we cried our make-up off. All of our quirks and mannerisms came out in full force. We listened to music and interrupted each other to say, "This song reminds me of the time ..." My stomach muscles actually ached from laughing.

And the weekend has just begun!

That's When I Learned

When I was seven years old, I had a sleepover birthday party. My favorite gift was a Barbie Pool. One of my friends threw up in it. That's when I learned that I liked my friends more than material things.

I had a few babysitters. One of them used to serve her husband Club Crackers and a Pepsi when he came home from work. We were not allowed these items and I coveted them. That's when I learned there are different rules for grown-ups.

Once I pined for a neighbor's son. I mean serious angst. Unfortunately, I carried this little spark for years... to the point of almost obsession. We went on a date once. I loved the movie; he hated it. That's when I learned there's a gift in letting go of a fantasy.

I've admitted it before but I've stood on top of Jan's shoulders (literally and figuratively) more times than I can count. That's when I learned a friend will catch you if she can.

College. That's when I learned a lot of stuff.

I had a six-pound dog that could eat quadruple her weight in carpeting, door frames, and anything in the path. That's when I learned about dog crates.

Another friend has lived in different towns for almost thirty years. That's when I learned friendship has no boundaries.

The oldies embodied grace and southern charm. Living with them taught me I have more to learn.

Sleeping Around

I've slept with lots of people. That does not mean I've had sex with lots of people. Mostly, I've slept with my husband(s) and some girlfriends. And my parents. When scared or lonely, I've crawled into their bed. I haven't done this in a couple of decades but I suspect they wouldn't kick me out.

The 70s brought freedom for lots of young women. Free love and access to the birth control pill. Burn that bra and flash your sexual freedom! I might have been the missile but my parents were the silo. They held the key and the pass code.

A couple of times, my built-in moral code emerged. We must get married! Yeah, that worked out well. I've had more than one wedding but only one marriage.

My cousin (one of the smartest people I know) and I had an email conversation the other day. In the midst of solving the problems of the world, I asked, "Was marriage meant to be hard?" His response was, "It just is." I used to watch the oldies get cranky with each other and I was amazed that they had anything left to bristle about.

Having participated in the rearing of two children, I will be the first to acknowledge that the double standard still exists: Men who sleep around are studs. Women get the bad rap.

I know women who wish they had saved their virginity until their wedding night. I know women who regret not sleeping with someone in their past.

I know friends who come from huge families and sleeping with a sibling was the norm. I never had to share a bed with a sibling. I did crawl in bed with my parents the night before I left for college.

I had a roommate in college that had no qualms about having sex while I was in the room. I pretended to be asleep.

The baby will be 20-years old this summer. When he was in high school, my slightly demented father used to ask him, "How's your sex life?" I think he liked to watch his face turn red. I come by it honestly because I made him watch everything possible about STDs, teenage pregnancy, etc. Then, although he rolled his eyes a lot, I made him discuss it. At some point, he figured out that he was bigger than me and he could just heave himself on me to shut me up.

I still sleep around. You might find me on the patio. I have wandered into the guest room trying to escape the television. I have napped on the dog pillow. I have a key to my parent's house and I know their alarm code. More than once, I've been tempted to drive over and crawl in bed. Of course, their dog would bite me.

Must Love Dogs

The husband swears I have never looked at him with the adoration that I reserve for dogs. On the flip side, he doesn't drool over me quite the way he used to.

The daughter gave me a calendar for Christmas. It's all about dog things. Yes, I will be that crazy old lady who gave her life to the dogs. My favorite quote (so far) is:

The more people I meet, the more I like my dog.

Occasionally, the husband is in his "Be the Boss of Me" personality. He makes big pronouncements like, "We will never have another dog after this one." I kind of remember my mother doing this with my father and then all of a sudden, they had four dogs.

I will be the first to admit that I own a maniac dog. She's almost two-years old, which is the magic age for Labs. They calm. They sort of, kind of, get the rules. They are pleasers. And then they proceed to eat everything in sight.

Being single again is not in my plans. But if I'm ever faced with that situation, I will have two criteria:

Must respect your mother.
Must love dogs.

It's Me and My Six Dogs

The Belle and I used to share stories. I suspect I know more of her premarital history than her sons. These were our girlfriend moments.

Once I was in a domestic situation -- okay, some called it a marriage but I don't remember it that way. I wanted out in a big way.

Beyond the obvious issues of ending a relationship, I had no idea what to do with myself and my dependents. They weren't children; they were dogs. One dog had been with me for years. One I had recently rescued from the Target parking lot. She repaid the favor by having four puppies in my closet.

I don't remember what tipped me over the edge but I do remember that night with great clarity. It was a Friday and the upcoming Monday was a holiday. I couldn't fathom a long weekend. I called on girlfriend support which meant an emergency meeting for a drink after work.

I went to my house. I paced a lot (in between tending to my six dogs.) I gave myself a window to wait for him. I rehearsed what I would say. I threw a few items of clothing in a bag to get me through. When it hit 7:00 P.M., I could wait and pace no longer. I put six dogs in a laundry basket and I left a note.

It's humiliating to remember. I am actually one of those people who has left a "Dear John" letter as I fled. You know where I went.

One of my parents opened the door. They knew I was unhappy but they were not expecting me to show up on their doorstep. One of my favorite quotes is from Robert Frost:

Home is where they have to take you in.

He didn't mention hauling six dogs along.

Shock Proof

There's a difference between legitimate shock or just being jumpy. I'm extremely jumpy but very little shocks me anymore.

People get divorced. It's sad but it no longer shocks me.

XXXX number of people were killed in the Middle East today. It no longer shocks me.

Some politician (local, national, international) has done something corrupt. It no longer shocks me.

Teenagers push the limit, get caught and still do some stupid things. This is not a shock to me.

Marriage is a marvel of good times and bad times. It took me a long time to learn this but it no longer shocks me.

Sometimes people who you think are on your side will throw you under the bus. I forgive. And, I'm never shocked -- just disappointed.

The moment you're flip enough to think all is under control, God has other plans. Doesn't shock me.

The cutest and most animated puppy in the litter will turn out to be the dog that's hardest to train. Doesn't shock me and doesn't stop me.

Jumpy is harder to cure.

What I Hate about Christmas

I prop little books on my kitchen window sills. I've swapped out my normal ones for Christmas ones. One is Christmas Joy by Susan Branch. One is Christmas Miracles by Jamie C. Miller, Laura Lewis and Jennifer Basye Sander. They're both lovely and inspiring books.

But my personal favorite and the one that gets the center spot is: Ethel Burke's What I hate about Christmas. It's a little odd that it's a man (Ed Strnad) writing as a woman but once you flip through it, you tend to forget that bizarre fact.

It's filled with hundreds of little things to hate about Christmas. I'll just give you a random sampling:

Puzzling over a card with no return address and a first name only signature.
When your tree resembles the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
People who send cheap gifts in Tiffany boxes.
Trying to locate the one dead bulb that knocks out the whole string of Christmas lights.
When you tell a religious person that, technically, December 25th was not Jesus' birthday and they get really upset.
The song, All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth.
People who drive around while wearing a Santa hat.
Nostalgia for the days when children were overjoyed to get an orange.

Here's what I hate about this Christmas:

Oldies are still falling like acorns off the oak tree. I'm terrified they won't take their trip to Texas.
Our impersonal tree. (I love the tree; I just miss the ornaments. I'm attracted to clutter.)

I can get wrapped up in the stress and silliness of the season. Yes, it's over-commercialized. But I rally myself and I still enjoy (most of) it. When I get a little frustrated or gloomy, I browse through this book and have a chuckle.
The other day, the mother-in-law said about the book on the window sill, "This doesn't seem very nice." I said, "Don't touch it."

Since I'm starting to speak to them like the dog, I should've said, "Paws on the ground!"

Photos of the Dead Dog

I'm sure Gabby, our maniac dog, is having an inferiority complex. Decorations are everywhere around here. I haven't even dealt with the tree but I must say it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. (I just made that up!)

We've done many years of holiday family photos -- some for Christmas cards and some for the pure fun of the memories. I have them in red and sparkly frames. They come out once a year.

The other day, I spent quite a bit of time decorating and that included putting these cherished photos on display. The husband walked in, complimented the decorations and then said, "Lots of photos with our dead dog!"

Before you think I've gone over the edge, let me say that I know she doesn't know or care. But ... I went downstairs, found her little elf hat and put it atop the box that contains her ashes.

Ok, maybe I have gone a little over the edge.

The Gabby Greeting

I am often reprimanded for my inability to control my dog. I'm learning to keep my mouth shut and let the husband have his say. He doesn't realize it but we're actually a good mix when it comes to training her. He would prefer a robotic, brain-washed dog. If he weren't around, I'm afraid I would become even more lax. I find humor and fun in her maniacal personality. Plus, as we know, I will never be her Alpha Leader. I am a litter mate.

Gabby's preferred greeting with me (I can be gone 30 seconds or 8 days) is to plant both front paws on me and shove hard. As I'm reeling, she jumps all over me. Usually, this sends the husband over the edge. While I'm quietly saying, "No Baby, paws on the ground," he's using the firm voice and giving me the evil eye.

Yesterday, I said to him, "You need to chill a little bit. She's just happy to see me."

So last night he came home, planted both hands on my shoulders and shoved me. (Not hard but I did reel back a bit.) I said, "What in the **** are you doing?'

He said, "I'm just happy to see you."