Friday, March 28, 2008

Biking Memories I have Known


Three things are on my mind: bicycle riding/crashes, cats and toilet flusher handles. The cat thoughts are only because I am cat-sitting for Master Reiki and Blue eyes (kind of a funny thing considering how allergic I am to cats); the toilet thing because the handle on the toilet at my new office is on the "wrong" side and every single time I go to flush; and, biking because of biking.

That damn toilet flusher thing....I reach for something that isn't there. Aren't all handles on the left?

Apparently not.

This is a photo of a cat (gleaned off the internet) that looks very much like the cats at Master Reiki and Blue Eyes home. I assume it is some kind of special cat, but all cats are just cats to me (no offense to the cats of the world) and thus I have no idea if it is a certain breed or kind. I pet them, I feed them, I itch, I go home. It's a lot easier than dog-sitting, I must say.

About that bike riding. Thoughts of bike riding surfaced while walking the dogs this afternoon. Our five year-old neighbor is learning how to ride his bike and thus he and his mom were standing outside, having a last-minute-pre-first-bike-ride-without-training-wheels conference. As the dogs and I walked by, there was Ninja Boy, seated on a bright, new shiny red and silver bike, sporting a helmet looking too big for his head but there for protection, nonetheless. He was doing fine, first time without training wheels, zipping along, mom running proudly behind him. It was one of those special moments that make you smile. I'm watching, he's peddling, mom's running....he's peddling...um....he's......

....there is nothing the mama can do as she is too far behind........

.....BAM! Right into a basketball pole in the driveway.


I don't think anyone told him about the brakes or else he was just too terrified to remember to use them.

There is this moment of silence, followed by the blood-curdling scream only a five year old can make. It is thankfully the scream not of injury but rather of emotional terror. In only minutes, he is up and back at the 'learning-how-not-to-crash-without-training-wheels' mode of transportation. (No need to put five dollars in the therapy fund--he's all good.)

You know what he needs? A playing card attached with a wooden clothespin to make noise on his spokes. That would make this momentous occasion even more special!

(Side note to Wild Mama: Remember all those shoes I ruined when learning to ride my bike in Woburn, Massachusetts? I kept dragging my toes instead of using the brakes. Details, details. I don't remember anyone telling me about this concept of brakes when I learned to ride a bike but that might be because I'm a spaz and don't pay attention, not that anyone neglected to tell me. I may be smart but I am so not about the details.)

The wife is all about bike riding and even got me to buy a bike two years ago. Here is a photo of said bikes to prove I actually do own one. The problem isn't the actual riding of the bike--I like getting out there and peddling away and I really like my new bike and I really do have a sporty new bike helmet--one of the biggest problems is that I have no peripheral vision and thus I spend most of the time on my bike feeling terrified.

If you are blind like me, you understand this concept of bike-riding-can't-see fear, especially if you have moved on to the trifocals area of your life. I have myopia to the point I need glasses to find my glasses. (Although I am taken to much exaggeration, this is no exaggeration. For those of you in the optician-minded world, my prescription is a -10. They don't even ask me about the eye chart because they know I can't even see the chart, let alone some giant "E.") Thus, I cannot see anything to my sides or toward the ground--it's no man's land of a blur. So, imagine you are on a bike and you can't peek to the side to see if you are about to be killed by a car sneaking up on your left. Or, picture not being able to see the ground while riding on some gravel-splashed road. With trifocals, it has become even more complicated as I must literally turn my head like an owl to see anything not directly in front of me--you have to look through the "sweet spot" in the lens or else it's a blur.

Of course, there have been some traumatic bike crashes in my past, which probably add to the feeling of the "can't-see-bike-terror." There was the great "blue-bike-caught-the-wheel-in-the-newly-edged lawn" incident in first grade, where the wheel got caught between the sod and sidewalk and I went flying, ribs crashing into the bike handle. Knocked the wind right out of me, left me sprawling on the ground. Some lady passing buy in a car asked me if I was okay. I put on my bravest face and told her yes, lower lick sticking out past my nose in an effort not to cry....

...There was the "oh-my-god-my-front-wheel-just-flew-off-my-banana-yellow -Schwinn-ten-miles-from-home" biking incident when Band Mouse and I were riding home from Chicago. That was in the olden days when it was actually safe to ride your bike to the lakeshore of Chicago from the suburbs--a 13 mile trip one way, if I'm not mistaken. It took hours for that trip but having the wheel fly off made it take longer. (And, of course, this happened in the days before bike helmets. However did any of us live without those things?)

We will not speak of the "orange-sparkle-banana-seated-blue-and-orange-crotch crash.

Of course, there are a million happy bike-riding memories from my youth--from the sound that bike tires make when riding down gravel alleys to riding with no hands to watching my mother learn how to ride a bike when I was in high school....from getting that banana-yellow-ten-speed under the Christmas tree to earning a Girl Scout Badge by riding my bike in the rain and making a shelter using the bike and rain ponch (and probably employing the ever present Girl Scout Sit-upon)....from riding back and forth to friends' houses to dragging those old toes to stop the bike....it is a good thing.

I think this shall be the summer I learn to ride my bike without fear. Mark my words now! I'm sure it will involve lots of nerdy mirrors and new glasses that aren't trifocals.....if nothing else, I'll grab my Girl Scout Rain Poncho and sit my sorry ass on the ground as the wife rides her bike around the globe....

Thursday, March 27, 2008

Another day in the Addiverse



Mmmm...nothing like Vitamin Pee! And, how 'bout that "glow-in-the-dark" pee from vitaimins? As long as it's not "asparagus pee." Woof! There is nothing worse than that. This is a Natalie Dee cartoon. If you have a warped sense of humor, check out her website (www.nataliedee.com). Don't say I didn't warn you, thought.

Not much time to read rambling? Let me sum it up for you:


More Snow.
Lots of chocolate.
More snow.
Continue to do walking tapes in effort to be ready for bikini-season. (Ha ha!)
More chocolate, more snow.
No cavities.
No new medications.
No constipation.
Expensive gas prices.
Did I mention it's still snowing?


Still can't hear, still clogged. What is up with that? Ear candling didn't help. Wax remover didn't help. I'll just turn up my iPod and ignore it. Maybe Natalie Dee has something there with that gross cotton ball cartoon. Whenever what's in my ears comes out, it is definitely going to win a gross award. I can't wait to share it with the wife (who will be disgusted with me and the ear product).

Gotta go. Literally. I hear some vitamin pee calling my name.

Monday, March 24, 2008

Finding the Addiverse....

Need something to do for the next few minutes? I learned how to make find-a-words on line (www.puzzlemaker.com). Am I a nerd or what? So, if you are bored and need a little brain time, print this out and find the Addiverse-related words.....if not, just ignore this and go on to your next favorite blog or go watch Oprah save the world.
SAMHCPRBRSGZWWA
NDAFMWILDMAMAID
OLSAAIIOFOBPACD
IUTMDDYGBURDDJI
TCEFODOGQSIDTYV
CYRRNASEYEEULBE
NLRONAERTSLORDR
UAEWAEIOSULFENS
FWIHWFPEDRENGOE
YLKNHFGFIGMJGVL
LEILOJAILEGNATK
ISTKRWMWPOOPJAC
DSRCEGVEFNHMMKE
OAKCSCTHZGRHOJR
BBASTATTOOSXQZF

ADDIVERSEADDIWPANGELIAJOLIE
BARKOFPOTEIDAIABLOGGERBLUEEYES
BODILYFUNCTIONSFRECKLESGABRIELLE
KATVONDLUCYLUCYLAWLESS
MADONNAWHOREMASTERREIKIMJAGGER
MOUSESURGEONPOOP TATTOOS

Friday, March 21, 2008

Be Careful.....

First of all, Happy Good Friday. (That seems wrong--I mean, there's Jesus, hanging on a cross and we're calling it "good." I know, I know--it's good because he died for our sins. I still think it should be called "Oh-my-God-Friday" or something.)

Second of all, Happy Easter! Here's to eating copious amounts of Dove Dark Chocolate Bunnies. (And, of course, a shout out to the now-risen Jesus, who is no longer hanging on a cross, which to me means it should be "Good Easter.")

Finally, be careful for what you ask....When I made my vision board a few weeks back, I had found this funny photo of senior citizens getting tattoos ("Really Old School") and thus included in on the vision board. (I tried to illustrate above where this is on the vision board. It's tough to see but if you look closely, you can see what I'm talking about. Please note the med pill strip with the tattooed snake around it. Classic!) Well, I had put it on the vision board for many reasons: (1) because it made me laugh; (2) because I wanted to make sure I could envision my tattoos when I got old and crusty; and (3) as a means of making sure I keep getting tattoos along the way, even when I am eighty years old. (Apologies to the wife, who basically HATES my tattoos.)

But, I got something else: I got my tattooed-self placed in an employment opportunity working with senior citizens.

Ummmm......Hello, Universe? That is not exactly what I had anticipated....

.....but it is technically what I asked, I must admit.

I guess it really is true you should always be careful for what you ask.

Thursday, March 20, 2008

So Many Shallow Thoughts, So Little Time.....

Random thoughts on a Thursday have my head a-spinning. To think, I don't even have my Easter bonnet yet.

Shallow, shallow shallow: On Monday, I had a monumental decision to make...watch "Dancing with the Stars" ---OR---watch the Oprah "New World" web cast. World Peace or Mindless Entertainment?

The choice was simple: mindless entertainment.
Dancing with the Stars....we are addicted. We might want world peace and a higher consciousness but we are all about stars strutting across the stage. Can I just say ol' plastic face Priscella Presley blew me away with her Foxtrot. I thought she'd just be a stiff mess of a Plastic surgery wonder. She can't even smile! Instead, she was a graceful dancer with potential to go far. I'm a little worried about her ability to do a Latin Dance. Perhaps she will be the "Jane Seymour" of this season. Then, there's Marlee Matlin. How does someone who happens to be deaf get a score of 24 out of 30? It was simply amazing! I am picking her to win the whole thing. Why not? If she can do a cha-cha without being able to hear a thing, she can do anything. The wife is going with Kristi Yamaguchi or however you spell it. When you get a 27 out of 30 during the first week, you are either peaking really, really early or you are gonna take the game! TV Magpie is going with Mario, who obviously can dance. I am all about a female winning this year--I'm sick of the guys winning. I say it's easier to dance as a guy than the girl. The guys get to wear more clothing, they don't have to wear heels, they don't have to do as much in the dance move department and they are certainly not leading their partner at this time....as they say, Ginger Rogers had to be a better dancer than Fred Astaire, as she had to do everything backwards and in high heels....

Hey, did you know Marlee Matlin is doing a recurring guest stint on "The L Word?" I wouldn't have known this as we don't get Showtime, but they actually mentioned it on "Dancing with the Stars." My, how far we've come! I'm gonna have to get Master Reiki and Blue Eyes to let us come over and watch their Showtime so we can see this ongoing blessed event....

Oh, my aching ass! Here's a diddy about a lady who went in for leg surgery and ended up getting a new anus! It's from Fox News."German retiree is taking a hospital to court after she went in for a leg operation and got a new anus instead, the Daily Telegraph is reporting. The woman woke up to find she had been mixed up with another patient suffering from incontinence who was to have surgery on her sphincter. The clinic in Hochfranken, Bavaria, has since suspended the surgical team. Now the woman is planning to sue the hospital. She still needs the leg operation and is searching for another hospital to do it."


By the way, why isn't Lucy Lawless on Dancing with the Stars? Do you know how happy that would make me?

Well, time to go buy the old Easter Bonnet, but I think I'm gonna have to skip the new white shoes for the season, as it is supposed to snow tomorrow. Whoever heard of snow on Easter? I guess snow on Easter is a hell of a lot better than waking up with a new butt hole.....


Saturday, March 15, 2008

Things You Probably Could Live Without, My Long, Lost Twin and Lost Underwear


Um, who ever thought of making a Spongebob rectal thermometer?
There seems something just plain wrong about this and it does nothing for Spongebob's reputation....

Ah, my long lost twin, Christian from Project Runway. Fierce!
I have had several people call, email and/or tell me my twin is on the show, so I had to check him out. I laughed and thought he seemed more like my twin sister than my twin brother but it really is quite the compliment as far as I'm concerned. By the way, he was the winner of Season Four on Project Runway and is he fabulous or what?!! (I didn't think there were other people on the planet who talk as fast as I do and this guy puts me to shame.) Actually, since I am old enough to be his mother, he must not be my twin but my little brother.....Wild mama, why didn't you tell me I have a little brother?


Here's something you could probably live without:
A photo of my wild mama's stitches!
She took this picture by herself, so that's pretty amazing. Thank god she had clean ears for the photo or this could have been a very bad thing. Just a lump that had to go. Dang, nice bling, too. I'm hoping she'll let me take the stitches out on Easter Sunday. That sure beats looking for hidden easter eggs.

Finally, a story about MJagger's lost underwear.
Yesterday, I'm driving back to work after lunch and my phone rings. I notice it's MJagger's cell phone. I answer it and can barely hear her, as she is whispering in a rather hysterical manner.

She squeaks out: "I'VE LOST MY UNDERWEAR!"

I am not quite sure what the hell she is talking about and so I say, "What??!!" I mean, who calls to tell you they have lost their underwear?

MJagger whispers again in a frantic manner: "I've lost my underwear! I can't find it anywhere!"

I, of course, wonder where the hell she is that she can't find her underwear, but she answers this question before I can ask. She's still whispering, "I'm at the gynecologist and I can't find my underwear! It's not here! The doctor is waiting for me!"

I almost had to pull over because I was laughing so hard. I ask, "Have you checked your purse?"

MJagger confirms that she has checked her purse THREE times. (I'm not sure why I thought her undies might be in her purse, but it seemed like a logical thing to ask.) I ask if she has checked her pant leg and she confirms that she has done this several times. She sounds horrified and whispers, "What if it was stuck to my butt the entire time and I didn't know it and the doctor was looking at it and now it's still on the table?!"

I assure her this does not sound plausible but I'm still laughing so hard I can barely drive so I'm not sure she heard my comment. She has looked on the floor, in her pants, all around the little curtained area. She chokes out, "I can't go without underwear--you know what it's like after they do an exam! I'll goosh all over!"

Suddenly she states, "I HAVE TO GO!" and hangs up.

I wait a half hour and call her at the office, holding my nose so I sound nasal and pretend I'm the gyne office. "Hello, Mrs. MJagger? We've found some underwear at the office and we are wondering if you've lost your panties?"

She uses some choice words and then admits, thankfully, a third check of her pants found the undies tucked in the leg, hiding from her. "I just had to call someone!" she exclaims. I am very honored it was me she chose to call.

Talk about a good laugh. Nothing like a laugh to make your day. I guess I'll hang on to my undies the next time I go to the doctor....

Thursday, March 13, 2008

Peep Show
Come on, if that doesn't make you laugh, what will????!!!!!
Now, HERE'S a man with nothing to laugh about.
My question is: What IS WRONG WITH YOU strong women who stand next to their numb-nut husbands at public press conferences? (At least this wife looked disgusted during the press conference. I'm hoping she is on really, really strong drugs.) Hey, your husband has been spending your money on hookers! Really expensive hookers! You really wanna stand there? Well, I suppose if a wife can stand next to a husband who's trying to have sex with men in an airport bathroom or next to a president who's had cigar sex in the White House, you can stand next to your prostitute-using husband.

I know, I know--judge not.....

Finally, about my new boyfriend-elf Eckart Tolle:

If you are confused by the book, the discussion, the tenets....don't feel you are alone. I think there is a plethora of Oprah viewers who have no clue what he is talking about. This stuff isn't new to me (none of it is "new;" it's as old as time and just a new package for an old message) and I have to read the sentence like three times before I finally go, "Oh, okay." I hope Oprah re-assures her fans that they are not "failures" if they don't get this stuff. It's heady crap and not easy to get at all. I just know there are all these Oprah lovers out there who think they are dumb or failures or whatever because they aren't grasping this stuff. Oprah, please go public and profess love to all your minions so they know you still love them, whether or not they get this stuff.

Gotta go. I hear there's a peep show down at Wal-mart.....


Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Getting Ready to Be Awakened (and filled with Dove Dark Chocolate)

I'll get to Eckhart Tolle in a minute. For now, my ego would like to say a few words.

(Um, if you are reading Tolle's book or are watching the Oprah web casts, you might find that funny. Or not.)

Anyway, my ego says, "I'd like to say that I've been focusing on world peace and harmony, but I'd be lying--I've been focusing today on how much sugar I can consume before bedtime." This is indeed true. My ego and I are sitting here with the Eckhart book to our left side (on the couch arm, close enough to read if I should care to, far enough away that I don't knock it off, trying not to label it or judge it but just letting it be), thoughts of sugar plums dancing in our heads. My ego says, "hey, you and I should check out Ebay for cheap Xena stuff." This leads to thoughts of wanting a snack. My ego would like a snack and I would like a snack and I bet Eckhart would like a snack....but then me and the ego both stop and think about all the crap I've eaten today and think, "geez, do I really need that last spoonful of sugar?"

Lest you think I'm exaggerating, I'd like to display my consumption of sugary-filled treats for the day. Yes, this is in ADDITION to the three meals I have eaten today.....let's see:
(1) 5:30 AM, one Dove Dark Chocolate (consumed while walking the dogs), followed by the wife making a "buttery braid" with cherry and cheese filling (no cholesterol in that danish-related item), hot and steaming out of the oven, hard to eat while driving a stick shift but possible. Man, was that sinful puppy TASTY! Nothing like the smell of freshly made bakery products in the wee hours of the morning to get you going. Naughty wife! It wasn't chocolate but it was soooo good and was a delightful compliment to my fine Dunkin' Donuts coffee, cream only please.

(2) 8 am, five Dove Dark Chocolates--medicinal purposes, of course--and, one bite-sized Dark Milky Way Mint--for non-medicinal purposes.

(3) 10:30 AM, Two small Paydays, one Dove Dark Chocolate (don't want me to get heart disease, do you?) and ten dark Hershey kisses.

(4) 2:30 pm, another Payday and five more dark Hershey kisses. (I don't know what's up with the Paydays--I must be thinking that a serving of nuts per day is very beneficial for heart health.)

(5) 5:30 pm, another delightful piece of that artery-clogging homemade danish for the ending of the perfect dinner (grilled soy cheese on Ezekiel bread and featuring "Smart Balance" buttery spread--which does not make you smarter, made on the George Foreman Grill, surrounded by a sea of pepper chips and that god-forsaken danish).

Um, and I was wondering why I haven't been losing any weight despite all my exercise???!!!

My ego made me do it.

Ha ha.

It will come to me and my ego a little later in this segment that my life's purpose is to eat chocolate. Now, THAT'S a life purpose I can awaken to!

Back to my new friend, ego-less Eckhart Tolle.


If you are an Oprah fan or if you've gone to a bookstore that sells Oprah's book club books (and who doesn't sell those hot tickets these days?), I'm thinking you've heard something about Oprah and the "A New Awakening" Worldwide Web Event. (If you haven't, promise me you'll go to www2.oprah.com later and learn more about this 10 week web event.)

Eckhart Tolle is an author and spiritual leader/teacher/guru/messenger.
Those are my descriptors--not his. He doesn't have descriptors. He just is. This is his photo from his website. I really like this guy as he reminds me of a combination of an elf and my cousin "Grand Canyon Black Toes."

When I hear his last name, I think of "mole mole" (pronounced MOLE-AY, MOLE-AY), which is what the wife and I say every time we eat in an authentic Mexican restaurant and really doesn't sound like his name but it's what I think. I also think of Tollhouse cookies, but that's just because I love warm Tollhouse cookies and I'm a sugar junkie and not because it has anything to do with him.

So, Oprah and Eckhart are doing this ten week on-line learning experience... Monday nights, 8 PM CST, 90 minutes, literally world-wide participation. (Is the Web great or what?) Since I'm all about a new earth and a new me and an awakening of any kind (especially if it involves home-made bakery products to awaken with), I have decided to take this "ride" with Oprah and her closest seven Zillion friends.

How could me and my ego say "no" to Oprah?

I'll leave it up to you to decide anything about the new earth or your own awakening. My ego and I just want to say we really, really like this guy. He's talking and we're enjoying him and his delicate features and his wonderful accent and his gentle demeanor and we're thinking how we'd love to meet this guy and I'm telling the wife to look at the computer screen, asking her, "Don't you think he looks like Cousin Black Toes without his glasses?" Although this is heavy stuff, it is delightful and possible coming from him. Oprah is just the vehicle (no offense meant to you, Oprah--without you, we don't have Tolle podcasting around the universe). You listen & watch the web cast, you follow along in your book, you work in your workbook on line. Ten weeks, free. FREE!

There are so many things to ponder when this little elf guys speaks. I swear to you I caught myself tilting my head to one side and smiling while considering what he had to say. It was very delightful, despite the headiness of it all and despite how late at night 9 pm is for me.

I can stay awake a little later on Monday nights to learn my life's purpose, right? Right.

Page 14 reassuringly states, "To recognize one's insanity is, of course, the arising of sanity...." Well, I know me and the ego are insane (as well as drunk with sugar), so I think this means we are ahead of the game.

I make light of all this but I really do get what he's saying and what Oprah's doing and how the world really, really needs to get this RIGHT NOW. We are in a very bad way right now and boy, is Mr. Tolle right on it, ego-less or not. I will read the book and watch the web casts (yes, with Dove Dark Chocolate in hand) and take part in this Oprah-fied happening. It's easy to watch and listen--the hard part is doing the work. I'm not sure I am ready to do the work but I already put a few tenets to the test today and it seemed to ring true. Until I figure it out, though, I'm here with this ego and an affinity for massive amounts of chocolate and an ego-filled blog of naming, labeling and judging.

Well, Rome wasn't built in a day, so.....

..........I think I'll keep on babbling and eating chocolate until I find my life purpose and a new earth.....

Friday, March 07, 2008

After reading about Brett below, Make sure to learn about Randy Pausch. Click on Pausch's Last Lecture to hear the whole lecture (it's an hour long, so get cozy), ....or, to go to Randy's Web Page ....for a shorter version of his lecture (from the Oprah Show--only 12 minutes long), click HERE. Why? Because he's dying and giving his last lecture as a professor......

“We cannot change the cards we are dealt, just how we play the hand.”
--Randy Pausch

A lot of professors give talks titled “The Last Lecture.” Professors are asked to consider their demise and to ruminate on what matters most to them. And while they speak, audiences can’t help but mull the same question: What wisdom would we impart to the world if we knew it was our last chance? If we had to vanish tomorrow, what would we want as our legacy?

When Randy Pausch, a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon, was asked to give such a lecture, he didn’t have to imagine it as his last, since he had recently been diagnosed with terminal cancer. But the lecture he gave—“Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams”—wasn’t about dying. It was about the importance of overcoming obstacles, of enabling the dreams of others, of seizing every moment (because “time is all you have…and you may find one day that you have less than you think”). It was a summation of everything Randy had come to believe. It was about living.



Thanks 4 the Memories

If you don't watch or like football or if you are a true, die-hard Bears fan, you are probably pretty sick of hearing about Brett Favre. It gets to be a bit much and who wants to read blog after blog about it in the Addiverse?

But, indulge me, won't you? After all, the wife and her family are devastated by this whole ordeal and need time to heal.

First, there is denial. ("No. No this can't be happening.") This is where the wife started and probably wished she could stay. Of course she knew the day would come sooner than later, but when it arrived, denial as they say no longer remained just a river in Egypt anymore.

Then, there is
anger ("How could you DO this to US? How can you be so SELFISH? Why can't you play just ONE-MORE-YEAR?). The wife feels so many emotions, with anger being just one of them. Why, why, why not one more year? WHY!?!?!!

BREATHE! BREATHE!

.....followed by some bargaining. ("Please don't let this be happening. I'll go to church every week if you just convince him to play one more year.")

Now, the depression is settling in.
This is the stage most packer fans are now in. Depressed. Down-trodden. Too sad to even breathe. It hurts to blink an eye they are so depressed.

I tell them, in a professional counselor voice: "This too shall pass." For good measure, I tell them acceptance is just down the road.

This is where I run quickly away, as there is no Packer Fan on earth that at this moment believes the pain will pass.

If you have an hour and don't mind watching a grown man cry and look down at the table a lot, go to Brett's Retirement Press Conference
(From Packers.com).

Brett's crying within the first thirty seconds. I'm sure the Packer fans of the world were crying the minute he stepped onto the stage.

In a moment of honesty, I must admit I did not watch the entire 66 minutes of the press conference. I listened a bit, skipped forward, listened a bit, went and got a Dove Dark Chocolate, skipped forward, listened, skipped to the end. I probably watched about 3 minutes total, but I can always go back and watch some other day.....

Tomorrow will be a day of mourning at the wife's family party. There won't be a dry eye in the house. (Okay, so my eye will be dry but don't tell them. Maybe I could poke myself really hard so I look teary. Maybe I'll think about meeting Lucy Lawless and having her put her arm around me for the photo op--that'll bring a tear.) They will relive the glory days, they will discuss the pros and cons of the decision to retire, they will talk about the uncertain future without Number Four.

Football IS a way of life in the Cheddarlands. You will never meet a more devout group of fans as you will in the Cheesed-dipped state of Wisconsin. (This is meant as a compliment.)

While the wife and her family are talking about all this, I'll be sneaking out to the garage to eat the chocolate "haystacks" the wife's sister makes. Yum! No one will even notice. I will then sneak into the refrigerator and get some of those delicious chocolate desserts that will be stuffed in there. While I am sad to see the man go, I'm much more about ME and the securing of home-made chocolate treats than talking about him or his career or his life or his records, amazing as the whole thing truly is.

My professional advice to Packer Fans: Find your peeps and drown your sorrow in some Wisconsin-brewed beer. Get a bratwurst and some string cheese and talk about the olden days. Put on your Packer Jersey. Make me some chocolate desserts so I can eat them while I'm listening to you.

I care. I do care. I get it. I understand. But, some chocolate will help me be much more empathetic....



Wednesday, March 05, 2008

B.F.F.

You know when you are in grade school and you write "BFF" on your folder, on your locker door, on your desk because it means "Best Friends Forever?" Well, now BFF will officially stand for Brett Favre 4-ever.Our artistic friend Melodious Artisticus made this picture for the wife. I had to publish it because (1) it is so fitting and (2) because it's really cool (unless you are in mourning about the Brett Favre retirement; then, it is not so cool). Being the good spouse that I am, I've blocked the wife's name out (not that you don't already know her name, but I value my life, so the name has been blocked). Thank you, Melodious!

Flood Warning!
Blue Eyes called to tell the wife that there is a "Flood Warning" for the entire state of Wisconsin. No, not because of the weather--but, because of all the sobbing......


Here is a photo of the Brett Favre autographed football I bought the wife a few years back. Am I a good spouse or what? It was for no particular reason. It's not exactly diamond earrings but it's romantic to her, nonetheless.

I sent out an email to our family and friends, forwarding the "Brett Favre in Black Curtain" as a show of solidarity to the wife.
I received a few responses back and thought it appropriate to share the comments with you:

Pee Pee Peeker and Einsteina Vagina wrote: "We immediately thought of you and how distraught you must be. Addi WP, how are you handling the BF widow all by yourself? Is family around to help? We want to send you our deepest sympathies. This truly must be a trying time for you. If there’s anything we can do, please call. We’ll be there in minutes to help. As I look back in retrospect, it’s as though there was this looming death on the horizon. Somewhat akin to a slow-flesh eating disease thatwe all knew would end horribly. At what point do you cut your losses and quickly fade into the background and resort to sitting on a rocking chair, whittling a new pipe, and watching the newer, younger pups play at your feet? It was truly a difficult, but smart decision. Again, please accept our condolences. We really did like the lad."

Cousin "Bear Down, Chicago Bears" Black toes wrote:
Next year Aaron Rodgers will play well enough for the Packers to be in playoff contention late in the season, when he will be injured. Brett will come out of retirement, wearing a green and gold Superman outfit, and lead the Packers to the playoffs and a Superbowl win--and then disappear, never to be seen again, leading to much speculation about whether he was actually human, celestial, alien, or a figment of America's collective imagination. I'll miss him. It was always a great challenge when the Bears played against him and he exemplified some of the best aspects of sports. He was a congenial competitor who hated losing, but could be friends with opponents and had fun playing--and never a hint of cheating or taking short cuts. I'm sure he inspired a lot of young people. Tell [the wife] to appreciate what she and the other Packer fans have had, rather than bemoan his retirement. What would Brett do? Take care."

And, CEO Packer Backer wrote:
"Tell [the wife] I'm not sorry to see Brett go...had to sooner or later.....and, think about the Bear fans having lost nearly 15 years of their adult lives to Brett who will be a ghost they'll never forget no matter what they say...... (I do remember Walter well)....."

I'm sure there will be many others who send condolences. Until then, just remember it's B.F.F. Make that 4-ever.

Tuesday, March 04, 2008

The End of the World as We Know It

Uh oh. All is not well in the Addiverse.

Someone get the wife a beer. Quick!

I was in a meeting at work today when my work cell rang. It was Cheesy Ciabatta Bread, so I answered it....she announced the news that the wife has been dreading.....

I quickly hung up and got back to the meeting.

Then, my work cell rings again. This time, it's the wife.....

No, all is not well in the Addiverse....or, in the Frozen Tundra....or, in all of Wisconsin. Cheeseheads across the nation are in mourning....

This day is almost as bad a day when they announced they were canceling Xena Warrior Princess after six seasons...and then they CHOPPED HER FRIGGIN' HEAD OFF in the season finale!

It's almost as bad as the day my family gave the wife a Bears shirt for Christmas....

What could possibly be so bad, you ask?

Well, just turn to ESPN or go on the web or turn on your TV. It's the end of the world as we know it....

Brett Favre has announced his retirement.


Oh, stop it. I know there is a war in Iran or Iraq or where ever the hell they are fighting and I know there is global warming and I know there is mass poverty and AIDS and the flu.

But, this is Brett Favre and the wife is very, very sad.

She knew it had to happen.
She knew the day was coming.
But, it's one thing to know something and another to experience it as it really, truly happens.

I can see her wearing a black arm band on her Packers Jersey....

It is said that Brett "felt worn down by the demands of the game" and that "he and his wife Deanna thought anything short of a Super Bowl title would be a disappointment and not worth the mental wear and tear."

(I quote various sources from the Web when saying this. Trust me, there are a TON of sources about this story. I'm not going to try and cite any of them, as they are all basically saying the same thing. This is a time of loss, not a time of citing references, for the love of Vince Lombardi.)

Read: I'm tired. I'm beat. I'm retiring.

Ya gotta ask yourself: Who wants to get the tar beat out of themselves every week to not a get a nice, new big diamond ring in the end? I don't even know how the guy got out of bed every Monday after a game. I got hurt playing flag football, for crying out loud. He's got 350 lb balls of steel flying at him every twenty seconds. Who wants to ruin those last few pieces of muscle, cartilage and bone that are still left semi-intact? Who wants to jeopardize his entire retirement for one more season of Cheese and Bratwurst?

It's not like he needs more money. It's not like he doesn't have any records in the book--heck, he re-wrote the record book for Quarterbacks. He went to a pair of Super Bowls, he's won a Super Bowl, he's been a pro-bowler nine times, he has a gorgeous wife and two fabulous kids, he has a warm place to live (no offense to Green Bay, but it's not warm there) and has some great Prilosec commercials.

I know this will be painfully hard on the wife, not to mention her family. Her family is gathering this weekend for someone's birthday (hard to keep track of for whom, as there are like thirty birthdays in the next six weeks--I just show up where I'm told to be) and I know the only topics that will be discussed are the Packers & Brett Favre. No Obama, No Hillary, No nothing. Just, the Packers & Brett Favre. There will be tears and stories and yearning.

I don't know how to help the wife through this grieving process, but I do know it will be a long, hard crawl up the Lombardi trophy. Thankfully, she has the memory of seeing Brett Favre in person at his last game at Lambeau Field. That's gotta soothe at least some of the grief. (And, she has an autographed Brett Favre football, so she can stare lovingly at that. What nice person purchased that autographed football for her???) :-)

........Whatever we will do on Sundays once football season returns?

Send condolences to the wife. Send cards, flowers, Packer Beads, cheese. She's gonna need them.