Butts and Guts

There is a huge sign in a strip center near my church that screams, "COLON AND RECTAL CARE." I don't know about you but I wouldn't be keen on going there for a diagnosis or treatment. I wouldn't even want to park near the sign.

My mother is a medical transcriber, a career I do not aspire to. (I've seen the hours and I might become suicidal listening to other people's medical histories.) Her primary physicians work in gastrointestinal (GI) practices in one of our country's premier hospitals. I have never been in their offices but I'm guessing there are no humongous Colon and Rectal Care signs.

In our silly moments, my mother and I refer to GI medicine as "Butts and Guts." Recently she's added a psychiatrist to her roster of physicians so now it's Butts, Guts and Nuts.

The Transition

Like most of you, I watched the inauguration today. I'm in awe of our country's ability to accomplish the smooth transition of power. Whatever your politics, you must admit it was an impressive scene and ceremony.

I hope our new president has a fraction of the energy displayed by his younger daughter. She does not walk -- she prances and dances, she bounces with enthusiasm. I hope he has his eye on the ball as often as his older daughter has her eye on the crowds. I love it that she carries her camera to all the festivities, as if there will be no record of this historic time without her personal documentation.

I hope Michell Obama never perfects the political wife standard look of idiotic and mindless devotion. I like it that she seems determined and down to earth. She seems like someone who will not wear a lot of false fronts.

I went to the official website of the white house this morning and viewed several pages. Shortly after noon today, the site changed seamlessly to represent our new president and his administration. The first official blog post was there. (www.whitehouse.gov)

So, here we go. The eyes of the world are upon us. The transition was smooth. Let the real work begin.

Forty-Seven Years

As I sit here, separated from my husband and living with my oldies, it is not lost on me that I have not excelled at marriage.

My oldies (my incredible parents) were married 47 years ago today. They continue to be living examples of what a marriage should look like. It's not all roses and sweetness. It's a quiet devotion and respect of each other. It's love and concern that truly wants the best for each other. It's snapping in frustration and snapping out of the mood or the attitude before ugly things are said. It's Honor with a capital H.

Sometimes I watch them ... I've been doing it for years. I was born 17 months after their marriage and I've been studying them my entire life. Of course they have had their struggles and rocky times. Even in those circumstances, they somehow remain steadfast in their union.

We all know it takes two people to make a strong marriage just like it takes two people to screw it up. We're supposed to believe that no problems are insurmountable. Sorry, I don't believe that anymore.

I do believe shining examples of strong and healthy marriages are all around us. I live here. I see it every day.

Time to Cowgirl Up

The girlfriends are headed to Zona today for our annual trip to Big Sal's gorgeous Western home. A couple of us can't go this year but we're there in spirit.

I was reminded of a western expression this morning. While speaking about the economy and the enormous challenges facing our nation, someone said, "It's time for all of us to cowboy up." I immediately thought of the women pictured above. They have "cowgirled up" in big ways.

Some have dealt with illness and death with parents or in-laws. Some have watched the baby leave the nest. Some have carried the worry load over health issues with loved ones while jumping into action. In the two years since this photo was taken, some of our lives have changed dramatically -- in good ways too. There have been business ventures and new grandchildren. Many happy moments with family and friends. These women, and many others I know, choose to soldier on and they usually do it with a ton of class.

Tomorrow is Obama's inauguration and like millions of people, I will watch and listen. I'm sure his speech will be uplifting but he's given enough statements for us to know it will also be filled with warnings of tough times ahead. Frankly, I feel like I've been cowgirling up for a while now. But I will plod ahead. I may put on my cowboy boots, toast my girls in Zona and psyche myself up for a tougher cowgirl attitude.

Drugged Out

Just one of the many fun things about returning to live in my childhood home is running across relics from the past. The book above is just one of the many I have discovered. I remember reading it in the early 70s and I remember my oldies discussing it with me. In fact they continued to have the good drug v. bad drug discussion with me through my college days.

My father is still on the sick pillow. The doctor said he may continue to feel lousy while his body recovers. So, even though the antibiotic pills (usually a good drug) are done for now, he still has trouble sleeping which he needs for his recovery.

For sleep aid, the doctor prescribed something heavy duty. The kind that the pharmacist scans your eyes and your face trying to judge if you plan to sell these on the street. The kind that would not just make you forget to feed your baby -- you would forget that you had a baby.

This may be a good drug for some people but it was a bad drug for my father. He was hallucinating and having horrible nightmares. He had trouble breathing from the panic. One pill did not a good night make.

Obviously he requested a different medication and it seems to be working. Good drug! He slept well last night and has been dozing all day. He already looks better thanks to some well-needed rest. The only side effect from the new drug (other than he might not stop sleeping for the next week) is he's grasping for the proper word. He asked my mother what one of the dog's name is. When he's awake, he's grinning a lot. I attended a gathering for a friend's mother's recent death. When I came home, my father asked me, "How was the furniture?"

Then he gave me a hug and said, "See you at dinner." My mother's theory is as long as his appetite remains constant, she's not worried.

Indiana in the National News Again

(Photos from MSN.com)



This is Marcus Schrenker, the guy who parachuted out of his plane over Georgia and allegedly staged his own death. Unfortunately for him, he forgot that most dead people don't allow themselves to be photographed while they are retrieving their motorcycle from storage and they don't send emails to a neighbor proclaiming innocence. He has been captured now in Florida and is expected to be charged with a variety of crimes across several states.

(Usually when someone from Indiana makes the national news it is almost guaranteed to be someone who meets the following criteria:

No teeth or very bad teeth;
Obese;
Badly dressed;
Horrible grammar;
Standing in front of a shack, usually with multiple lawn ornaments and a car or two on cement blocks.

The best part in our national portrayal is these people are not criminals. They're witnesses to something horrific whether it's a crime or a natural disaster.)

Talk about a bad couple of days. In addition to the failed attempt to stage his death and disappearance, Schrenker just buried his stepfather and his wife has sued him for divorce, claiming infidelity. He's also questioned and accused of some investment shenanigans that clients and the government both frown on. Just one of these things might send someone reeling but the whole house of cards seems to be collapsing.

He isn't toothless or obese. Until recently he seemed to have it all: a multi-million dollar home, a beautiful wife and three children, fun toys like expensive boats, cars and planes, etc. He doesn't need to witness a disaster -- he's living one.

Alright Already

I have long had my issues with the religious right wing and their various movements. Of course, I recognize this is odd since I share many of their beliefs. When my feathers are ruffled, I ask myself why. Is it because they are infringing on my beliefs or just my right to believe otherwise? Is it the militant style of "my way or the highway" that turns me off? Am I blaming the masses for the hypocrisy I have witnessed in a few?

I am a religious person. I do not cram it down anyone's throat. I do not believe that my denomination or belief system makes me a better person. (In fact, I believe my faith is a balm for my endless weaknesses.)

There's no escaping the debate. Should Rick Warren be performing the invocation for Obama's inauguration? Will the Middle East ever find peace without addressing religious freedom? How can other countries insist on policies around the world that hold different and wildly varying beliefs? Should our politicians pray before opening a meeting? Should "under God" stay in the Pledge of Allegiance?" Should our currency continue to be minted with "In God we Trust?" Does that make our dollar invalid when an athiest uses it?

Politics and religion have been partners and opponents since the beginning of time. I don't have the answers to these questions but I am equally certain the right wing conservatives don't have a direct line to God any more than I do.