Oh the Power of "O," and I Don't Mean Oprah

Not sure, but I think my mom has a crush on someone other than my dad:


She is a faithful Dr. Oz viewer.

I like Dr. Oz OK, but I do not record his shows.

My mom does. And then she tells me all about them. Sometimes I'm not a very enthusiastic Dr. Oz show re-tell receiver.

Today, for example, when I went to bring them a few groceries and meds, she asked me to watch a segment on preventing ovarian cancer. I confess I was not enthusiastic about this, since my friend Diane passed due to that killer. I pretty much hate the topic.

But a few months back, I made a remark something like this to my mom, "Since I'm through with menopause, if I could, I'd just have the ovaries removed. Then I would never have to worry that the silent killer was after me. I think that should be an optional surgery." Obviously, I was very emotional.

Ever since then, she has been afraid I will actually try to get a doc to take them out. I assured her I was just rambling. Even so, she brings up the topic quite a bit.

The segment today was about a diet that helps keep ovarian cancer at bay and may even eradicate the cancerous cells.

One of the diet staples is endive, which I do not think I have ever eaten.



Studies of more than 62,000 women in the Netherlands have found those who ate endive had a 75% reduction in the risk of ovarian cancer. That's a pretty substantial claim, wouldn't you say? Supposedly, all it takes is 2 half-cup servings per week to do the trick. You're supposed to eat it raw. Dr. Oz says it tastes a little like cabbage.

Well, I say it can't hurt to try it. Of course, I'll never know if it's really keeping the disease away.

But it will make my mom feel good, and that's worth it to me.

I wonder ... someday ... what would MY children do just for my sake--just to put my mind at ease? Only time will tell!

Why Hasn't JJ Abrams Contacted Me About a Creative Writing Project?

So last night in a dream, I noticed a bowl of dog food at my feet.

I thought, "I wonder what dog food tastes like?" And then I picked up a kibble and munched.

"It's kind of bland. But the after-taste is bad. No wonder they have bad breath."

Then I walked away.

The end.

Are you kidding me? In a chance to fly above the tree tops, go back or forward in time, to possess any super power--I chose to taste dog food?

Good grief! With a bright imagination such as this, it's only a matter of time until J.J. Abrams of Alias, Lost and Fringe contacts me.


Abrams: "Lid, we're stuck on a scene in which the "real" Earth's Fringe Team investigates people who have been put into an unbreakable trance by a mysterious box. Any creative ideas about what substance in the box could put such a hold on people?"

Me: "Yes! Just as Agent Olivia Dunham arrives on the scene of citizens walking around in various states of zombieness, she notices several mysterious boxes of dry dog food opened and strewn about. Suddenly, she thinks, 'Hey. I've always wondered what this tastes like .... "

Because It's Silly. And it's Psych and Hall & Oates

#1: You have to know WHO Hall and & Oates are
#2: It helps to enjoy the USA Network show "Psych."

If you meet those criteria, enjoy.

Going to College-What Do the Ads Say About It? & My Fave Back to School Ads

Walmart, 2009:



What do you think it says?

My observations:

1. Behold the purchasing power of moms, the obvious target in this ad. It appears that Dad's main responsibility might be to lift heavy objects or drive to the move-in. In this ad, he appears to be hanging out somewhere on campus grabbing a coffee at Java Joe's while Mom handles the emotional stuff. Let's hope he's not staring at co-eds. It's obvious, though, that Mom buys the stuff.

2. My children did not come running after me for one last hug. If only I had bought neon storage cubes for the rooms, perhaps they would have been loathe to see me go.

3. Apparently, dorm rooms are gigantical and very pristine looking. Still, the brightness and cleanliness of this room makes the daughter insecure.

4. Inexplicably, moms feel that buying coordinating pillows will help make everything all right. What happens when the roommate moves in with her not-so-coordinating Japanese anime themed stuff?

5. The moms will perfectly fold all towels and place them perfectly in drawers. Moms will make up the bed. So what is the kid doing?

Target, 2008--

Observations:

1. These two will end up killing each other before the first semester ends.

2. It was sly of Target to try to get matriculating freshmen to coordinate their rooms. ("We'll have to get it all at Target so that it will coordinate!")

3. Guys don't care if they coordinate. They don't even need sheets or seating. They just need food.




Finally, I'm leaving you with two of my favorite back to school commercials ever.

Although this one has been done to death, the final scene always makes me laugh.



This one is probably my favorite because it features Eddie Steeples of "My Name is Earl" and a great Spinners song. "Hand me down my walkin' cane; hand me down my hat. Hurry now, don't be late 'cause we ain't got time to chat." LOVE it!

TV is on the blink ... Now what?

First of all, let me say a big THANK YOU to all of you for your kindness yesterday concerning the laundry room unveiling. The comments I received were so sweet and affirming I think I could live on them for a week. You make me want to re-do another room just to get that love again! But then I might lose Jorge's love because I would be spending a lot of money. Sigh. Can't win 'em all. But I just wanted you to know how good you made me feel.

Now, if you read here often, you know that I do like to watch TV. Not to the exclusion of more lofty pursuits like making S'mores, but hey, I've gotta be honest.

And I'm not snooty about having HD or big screens or dozens of channels. I just want some good ol' talent shows, dating shows, weight loss shows, people who didn't know they were pregnant but had babies shows, stranded on an island shows and how to talk to animals shows.

Occasionally I get all high-brow and watch Dateline, but you know, it's not that often. Sometimes I just pretend to watch it to impress Jorge.

And if I'm feeling real, real guilty about all the mindless drivel I've been sopping up, I take in a PBS program, and that cancels out the influence of a week's worth of junk shows.

I think you can see I'm intentional about this pastime.

Lately, our old TV has been on the blink. The 36" sleeps there in its cabinet until we nudge it awake. And then, like a 46 year-old woman, it has to warm up before video and audio are coherent.

For weeks, we have grown used to diagonal technicolor lines and the mysterious voices behind the apoplectic visuals.

Today, though, when I turned it on, this is what I saw, and I knew it was bad:



This, of course, means the same thing as the dreaded Windows "blue screen of death."

Now what?

Well, I will want to buy a new one.

Jorge will drag his feet.

Sticker shock will cause him to faint right there in HH Gregg or wherever.

This is why I always carry a bucket of water whenever I go shopping with him.

Then he will probably want to do some research, and I will get engrossed in whatever's showing on the 30 TV screens there in the store.

To be honest, I really don't like the looks of the flat big screens that just sit there looking stark, like a floating head. They remind me of aliens for some reason. But I'm pretty sure that's almost my only choice now.

And what I dread the most is learning the new system. (As if my life isn't full enough of that at work right now.) I don't want a million channels and split screens and all that jazz, as they say in the rest home.

I just want a plain old TV that I can talk back to when the need arises. That's all the interaction I want.

Nevertheless, I know what's coming. It's going to be complicated.

Do you have any advice? If you really like yours, will you tell me what it is and why? Any warnings?

Ryan Started the Fire, But So Did I

Last night I told the world on Facebook that I was attempting to start a backyard campfire on my own, since Jorge's flights in Ft. Lauderdale and Atlanta were both delayed.

I've never been one to pretend to be Caroline Ingalls, but I needed a marshmallow. Or two or fifteen.

So I did the Scouty "kindling" tepee thing (Hey, I've been paying attention) with twigs and dry mulch and got a roaring fire going, and by roaring, I mean BONFIRE. I know it has nothing to do with the Tom Wolfe novel, but all I could say over and over in my head was, "BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES! BONFIRE OF THE VANITIES!"

I minded that behemoth like it was a sleeping bear because I knew Jorge would be so mad if he came home and I had burned down the neighborhood. He's so strict.

So I sat there and read chapters 1 and 2 of Jeremiah, and then a book on running after age 35. (Ha! Try "after 45.")

I also threw in my draft notes of my column which I've been writing. It felt kind of good to watch them burn.

Then I just sat there and stared into the fire.

And then THIS kept going through my head:



And that's when I knew it was time to put out the fire.

It took 5.5 buckets of water to put it out, and when I poured the first one on, millions of white ashes swooshed up into the air and came down like snow or dandruff or psoriasis, all over my head and shoulders and clothes. But the fire fought me, so I had to come back out 4.5 more times and create another Pompei with ashes.

So that's how I ended July, which I loved except when I fell down two nights ago.

The end.

The Bachelorette and the Subject of Hugs

Excuse the kitschy clip art. I'm feelin' a bit emotional right now, sniff.

Remember this song by Pete Seeger:

Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time passing
Where have all the flowers gone?
Long time ago
Where have all the flowers gone?
Girls have picked them every one
When will they ever learn?
When will they ever learn?

Well, not to whine, but I'm hearing:

Where have all the readers gone?
Long time passing
Maybe out frolicking on their lawns
When will they ever return?

Dude, I don't know about you, but I'm hearing echoes around 2nd Cup. Oh well. That's never stopped me before. I just keep on keepin' on. So if you're a little lonely in the comments section, too, let us just have a big ol' group hug. OK, that's over.


Speaking of hugs.

Question: Why on "The Bachelor" and "Bachelorette" and "Wife Swap" do women run up to the guy and straddle jump him? Once you've seen this about 100 times, and I would think once you've greeted him that way 100 times, it kind of loses its spontaneous, flirty aspect. Thank goodness they're all size 2's, too.


I just wonder if those guys start thinking, "Ohhhh, here she comes! Get ready ... get set ... here she comes ... plant my feet and ... WOMP!" "I made it! I'm still standing!" It's like WWF hugging. You'd think they were returning from war or something. It's the new nonverbal cliche: the jump-hug.


I'm thinking the technique probably takes practice.

It just happens that Jorge is traveling on business this week. Perhaps I should practice up the jump hug on the walnut tree in the back yard for when he returns.


Uh, No!
Not serious!
JK, Jorge!

So what did you think of The Bachelorette finale?

Did Reid's return surprise you? I'm glad she didn't choose him. He looks like he's about 16.

And didn't ya just love the "bleep" Jillian gave us before Ed turned up? Hi-Klass.

It's kind of ironic that the Cymbalta commercial came on right after Jillian spent 15 minutes of air time crying. Heck yeah, "Depression hurts." So does reality TV.

And did you notice that Jillian awkwardly jump-hugged Ed during at her proposal? That's hard to do in a formal. But it wouldn't be The Bachelorette without the jump-hug. Good grief.

One of the Best Dances I've Ever Seen

One minute and 32 seconds of pure entertainment! This is from "So You Think You Can Dance," which my dancer-daughters never miss. I cannot get over the cleverness of this dance, the dancers' precision and expression, esp. the female. At times the choreography draws directly from animation, then there are Michael Jackson moments, and then there's just the element of surprise, as in "what's next?" I have watched this over and over.

American Idol, Shakespeare, and Can You Match the Slogans with the Products?

American Idol: First of all, can you believe the American Idol finale? When was the last time you saw so much talent in one place, besides the Lawrence Welk show or the Muncie community theater?!

Seriously. I felt my adrenaline surge during "We Are the Champions," and I felt my stomach go in a knot (in a bad way) just as I did as a kid when my older brother loved KISS. And although Rod Stewart looked a little unstable on his feet, he's still got it. Plus, he is still skinny, which is important when you're Rod Stewart. He is one person who can just never get away with anything else, you know? I mean, even Cher could get chubby before Rod.

I don't know why Cyndi Lauper sat like that. I knew you wanted me to address that issue. "Ladies" shouldn't sit that way. Especially middle aged menopausal ladies. Ick.

Steve Martin? How did he get this gig? I mean, he's an all right performer, but with those big names on the stage, how did he manage this?

Oh, I could go on, but this show is why we watch every season, and somehow, it just seems to get better and better.

Am I a better person for watching AI? No, I am not. I am, however, a highly entertained one, which is not as noble but at least I'm honest.

One last thing: Yay Kris.

Shakespeare:


You may not watch The Office, but I must tell you that if you have ever worked in an office, there was a scene that you would relate to: the filthy office microwave.

Such is is my life.

So the receptionist, Pam, made a sign and posted it on the top of the microwave about cleaning up after one's self after using the microwave. Her co-workers hated this sign.

Today, it was not the microwave, but a plastic bucket of fruit with a lid that had sat for several days in our sink until you couldn't tell the kiwi from the ewwwweee.

Now it's not often that my present life, secretary, collides with my past life, English major, but today, before I even had time to think about it, as I approached the dreaded bucket, Shakespeare said to my head, "Something wicked this way comes."






If ever a bucket deserved to have "Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble" chanted over it, it was this Rubbermaid bucket.

It sure looked like someone had cooked up a pot of poisoned entrails, eye of newt, and toe of frog.

So I did what any Pam-worthy secretary would do. I snuck it outside and pitched it.

Shhh. Don't tell anyone. Oh wait. My co-workers sometimes read this blog.

Match the Slogan with the Product:

In other work news, yesterday we had a giant meeting to discuss the relevancy and viability of our church's mission statement: "Know, Grow, Go."

Shakespeare would be proud.

So as we discussed the statement, a couple of us came up with alternative ones just in case we decided to 86 the current one, my favorite one being, "I Hope You Dance" which was so random that it completely cracked me up.

That got me to thinking about branding and mission statements, and I was wondering if we should just work with what has proven successful elsewhere, that is, famous advertising slogans. So I adapted some; see what you think. Try plugging your church's name in there and see if it doesn't make you giggle. And can you match the famous slogan with the product?

• Union Chapel: A little dab'll do ya. (Especially when you work there all week.)
  

• Union Chapel is the place for the helpful hardware man. (Things get broked.)
  

• A day without Union Chapel is like a day without sunshine. (Uh, this must not include my desk because sometimes, I don't emit sunshine.)
  

• Union Chapel: All you add is love. (And volunteers, and programs, and sick babies and smelly middle school boys. Now we're closer.)
  

• Union Chapel: the San Francisco treat. (Seriously doubt San Fran would consider our theology a treat.)
  

• Union Chapel, take me away. (Ohh, so you want to go on a missions trip!)
  

• Union Chapel: Celebrate the Moments of Your Life. (Kinda cute.)
  

• How do you spell relief? U-n-i-o-n C-h-a-p-e-l

• In the valley of the Jolly, "Ho, ho, ho," Union Chapel. (At least it's reminiscent of Psalm 23.)
  

• Be all that you can be: Union Chapel (Yes, please volunteer today.)
  

• If I've only one life, let me live it as a Union Chapel member! (Sounds like a religious Patrick Henry.)
  

• Just do it. Union Chapel. (I'm kind of liking this one. It's like "stop making excuses and get plugged in.")
  

• Union Chapel: It's the cheesiest. (That's a great one! Especially for youth ministry!)
  

• It's the real thing: Union Chapel!

• Like a good neighbor, Union Chapel is there. (Not half bad.)
  

• Union Chapel: It takes a licking and keeps on ticking.
  

• Look, Ma, no sinners! (Not hardly, but funny!)

So do you know which products these slogans were originally written for?

American Idol & Biggest Loser

Every Tuesday night, I have to make the biggest decision of my life.

Which one do I watch live, and which do I Tivo?

It's like trying to decide which of your children you're going to play with now and which one later. Or which piece of chocolate you're going to eat now and which one you're going to save for later. It's harrowing.

So I did the unthinkable: surfed between the two.

As far as American Idol goes, there's not much to say except: that's a boatload of natural gifting on one stage. Good grief.

My favorite is still Danny Gokey, who was my choice from the first time I saw him, but the other two are brimming with the talent, as well. I do not personally care for Adam's style, but I'm not blind to his ability.

With that said (as they say in "The Bachelor" ad nauseum) I don't believe the premise of the show fits Adam because he has been on big-time stage before, and this show is supposed to pluck unknown underdogs from Denny's and Borders and give them a chance to shine. Also, it's mainly for Pop or Top 40 music, not opera, bluegrass, Broadway or hard rock.

But details, details. In spite of my compulsion as a rule follower to protest, I believe that Adam will win. And you know what? If so, I say, "Ho-hum."

Real Excitement? Biggest Loser Finale!

I never thought I'd enjoy this show so much, but I have been sucked into the real-life dramas of the contestants' lives, loves and struggles. I have been rooting for them and even thinking about the show during the week. No other TV show has done that to me since LOST.

And obviously, I'm interested in weight management, hence the 30 x 5.

So the winner, or "loser" if you will, is Helen. I was rooting for Tara, but I guess it's fun to see a 48 year-old win. Go middle aged ladies!

I do worry that she looks a leetle too thin, though. Hope there's no mental craziness going on there.

So that's it for Biggest Loser. But I'm inspired to keep plugging away. After all, I'm merely 46!

Makeovers and Leo Sayer

So I'm watching Biggest Loser, and the contestants are getting Hollywood movie premiere makeovers. [Please trim Filipe's hair. Oh, please.]

Envious, that's what I am. On two levels.

Sure, I'd like a bodily makeover from head to toe. But instead of Mr. Tim Gunn or Bob or Jillian helping me, Mr. Elliptical is kicking my patootie.

And here's what I look like after an hour with Mr. E.:













Grumpy.
Smeared mascara.
Swallowing water.
Tired and doubtful.

Yikes.

But there's another makeover I'm working on, and you're looking at it right now. The blog, that is.

A week or so ago, I posted a poll asking your opinions about making over 2nd Cup. The overwhelming majority of you said, "Keep the cappuccino machine." I'll try. But I think it's what makes my page load more slowly than some.

They say you start to lose readers after 4 seconds of loading. I just did a test, and I think it takes 6 because of my machine image. Would you like to test your upload time? Go here and insert your URL.

Anyway, I'm leading towards bold colors with lots of white space because I want to look neat and clean. I think it's a Spring cleaning thing. And guess what I noticed? It's funner to do cyber Spring cleaning than washing windows!

30 x 5 - 100: So what approximate 100 cals did you say "no" to lately? I turned down bagels and rich coffee flavoring. I did have a small chocolate, so that wasn't great. But look at what all I would have had, had I not been mindful of saying "no" to something! So that plus one hour with Mr. E. is my latest 30 x 5 - 100 update.

And now I'd like to share something that I discovered through Missy at It's Almost Naptime. This is my Hollywood movie premiere of "Jorge and Linda." It's approximately one minute long, and the best part is near the end. See how I tied the first line of this post to the last? Yeah ... un-cha! Let's dance!

The Sound of Muzizzle, Twins, 30 x 5

Remember when Dena made me this button? It's because I love musicals so muchnot.

However, the following vid (at end of post) is for all of you card-carrying Broadway musical lovers, of which I am a mirror opposite, a card carrying protester of Broadway musicals. You must watch this all the way through for the full effect. (Eye roll.)


Speaking of mirror opposites, I read the other day that there's a longstanding well-respected hypothesis that most left-handers are surviving siblings of mirror-image twins. Apparently, in as many as one in 8 pregnancies, a twin is "reabsorbed" due to chromosomal or other abnormalities. I could not wait to forward this info to my eldest two children who are both lefties. The onslaught of replies between them and me was both hilarious and disturbing. Suffice it to say my son replied, a la Dwight Schrute: "This means, of course, that I have the strength of a grown man and a fetus."





So today we're out of the gate on the next two-week adventure.

Look, I know I'm not getting around to you faithfully. I admit it. But here's a thumbnail of why I can't, couched in the context of "yesterday."

• Awoke only in time to get ready for work--without shower!

• Worked. Computer down most of morning.

• Picked up Kristin after school.

• Dropped Kristin at home but did not get out of car. Drove to parental home.

• Worked on Dad's computer. Note irony in that statement.

• Failed at Dad's computer. Called Jorge to come after work to help.

• Tried to help Mom decide between two pink dress suits. Laborious process. Finally, I put suits on, and WHAM she knew immediately which one she liked and which one she didn't. Slightly disturbing.

• Took copious notes for Mom concerning her funeral plan preferences, re: clothing, casket lining, songs, readings. A fun time was had by all.

• Came home, ate late dinner.

• Checked your comments here. Became overwhelmed.

• Wrote this post.

Technically, we didn't start the 30 x 5 yesterday; today is the first day of this two weeks. But yesterday I did deny myself some Jolly Ranchers and tons of unhealthy edibles in the cafe in the building where I work, where I'm free to go at any moment and purchase any food under the sun, with one stipulation: It must be unhealthy. AARGH!

I will also confess to you, and hope that it does not discourage you, that I was down 5 lbs and then put it ALL back on from Good Friday until today. DOUBLE ARGH!

But this is a new day, right? I'm going to do my best to get around to reading your progress. hang in there with me; I need you. Please be sure to encourage some others a long the way. Just a little "Hey there; I'm in this, too," helps a lot.

And now, to end on a ridiculously happy and sappy note, here is the musical vid:

Sound of Music Train Station @ Yahoo! Video

American Idol Wrap-Up & Oh No It Dit'n!

Oh yes it did snow, right on April 7, right on my little deck where my deck furniture should be unpacked and unstacked and my hinder should be upon it.

Unbelievable.

And the nerve of DeeDee at Fiddledeedee to post: On Saturday, Fiddledaddy took the children out of the house to go swimming. Because Florida forgot Spring and rocketed directly into Summer.

For realsies, DeeDee?

So I'm watching American Idol right now, and tonight's theme is "Contestants Pick a Song a From the Year They Were Born." Wow. We're reaching clear back to 'N Sync.

Speaking of reaching back, they showed the judges' baby pictures tonight, and Ryan's pic was the cutest of all because he had little big bunny teeth. Completely adorable.

The oldest contestant, Danny Gokey, was born in 1980. Sigh. I am old. Ye olde, to be exact.

Glad we got the enigma of Lil Rounds' name cleared up. She is, thank goodness, not "Lih-ull Rounds," as Simon calls her. "Lil" is in fact the diminutive of Lillian. And so we can learn from this that "Li'l Kim," the rapper turned "Dancing With the Stars" star, is not "Li'l" as in "little" at all. She is actually "Lillian Kim," which immediately klassies her up a little bit. Same with "Li'l Richard." He is in fact "Lillian Richard," which suits him like an Alfred Dunner ensemble fits Beyonce.

I know this isn't an original comment, but I do think so far that everyone's just mediocre tonight, truly like pretty good karaoke.

I like Anoop, but I think his look needs some polishing up. Last week Scott had a new 'do, and I'd like to see Anoop get a makeover, too. He looks very boyish, which is great if you are Anoop's mom or grandmom, but after all, as Ryan says, this is American Idol.

That sounds really bad. I'd hate to think what Anoop would say if he decided to critique me. Especially since I'm sitting here in pajamas eating almonds out of a can.

By the way, the can my almonds are in is exactly the same shape/height as my Italian bread crumb can, which is what I accidentally pulled out of the cabinet and sat down with here at the computer to eat. "Yep, just gnoshin' on some Italian bread crumbs! Mmmm!"

I've noticed my appetite has picked up in the last couple of days. Probably because I'm exercising more. But I'm still not going for bread crumbs.

OK--the show is back on.

The songs these people are choosing are terrible! Point in fact: Survivor "The Search is Over?"

Really? Oh, I think maybe the competition is over for Scott. But he is so sweet.
Why does everyone look so young?

Oh yeah, I forgot: "Sigh. I am old. Ye olde."

What did you think of Allison Iraheta's version of "I Can't Make You Love Me?" I thought it was all right, but I'd probably leave Bonnie Raitt alone, just as they should leave Whitney, Mariah, Aretha, Christina, and Kathie Lee Gifford alone.

Did you catch the "How Lovely to Be a Woman" Walmart commercial? Don't know who's singing it, but I'm suspicious. Where has Megan Joy Quarky Corkrey been lately? I think she might have slipped one over on us in this commercial.

OK, the judges went nuts for Matt Giraud and Adam Lambert. I'm not getting it.

I didn't even recognize Adam's song, and apparently, upon Googling it, I found it was originally done by Tears for Fears, the group which recorded one of my all-time favorite songs ever, "Everybody Wants to Rule the World."

Ok, I just looked at a couple of videos of this song, and I def prefer the 1982 original to the others. Go 80s! Ye olde 80s.

Well, time to sign off here because I've got a Ken Lee Cake in the oven (seriously, I do) and Biggest Loser waiting on Tivo.



30 x 5'ers: Tomorrow, Thursday the 9th, is the day you are supposed to post a little somethin'-somethin' about this experience, good, bad or indifferent, and link up here. Then we can all share. Last time I tried this, like four people linked up. Now you have had plenty of warning time, so get thinkin' about what you want to say. It doesn't have to be a dissertation, just a few lines will do.

My plan is that we will call it a day (call it a two weeks?) and rest over Easter. And then I'd like to propose one more idea along these lines.

Remember: Leave those chocolate bunnies ears INTACT. And link up tomorrow!

Week 1 Wrap-Up of the 30 x 5 Challenge; We're Half-Way There!

We're doing a week-one wrap up, sure we are, but first things first.


Speaking of wrap-ups. Some of you who are new here don't know that I used to do American Idol Wrap-Ups. I can't exactly say why, but when I started those, my readership really picked up.

So, logically, I have stopped doing them.

The truth is, I haven't been doing AI updates this year because ho-hum. But occasionally I still feel so strongly about some issue that I simply must break through regularly scheduled posts and share AI info with you.

Hence: Adam Lambert? Looks exactly like a young Kurt Russell.

Oh, no, wait--like a young Kurt Russell playing ELVIS--That's IT!

You're welcome.

Now on to the 30 x 5 Challenge gab fest.







Whoa! Time flies when you're kicking your own butt, doesn't it?!

Either it flies, or it crawls like a springtime worm enjoying the muddy view. (What imagery! Tres impressive!)

So--THE question: how has it been for ya?

I'd love for you to link up and talk about any observations you've made this week. For example, you could talk about any or none of the following:

1. What kind of moving around works/doesn't work for you
2. What motivates you: Tell us specifically what your thought process is that gets you up and moving instead of giving into the temptation not to.
3. What effect this has had on you mentally. Honestly. If it made you crabby, say it.
4. What effect it has had physically. You can share lbs lost or not. You can share changes in stamina or the way clothing is starting to feel different. When I first lost 35 lbs a few years ago, the first thing I noticed, for example, was that my jewelry fit differently. No lie.
5. What are your plans for the next 7 days? Are you still in?
6. If anyone dropped by your blog to encourage you, did you like that? Did you encourage anyone else?
7. Do YOU think Adam Lambert looks like Kurt/Elvis? (I ran out of questions temporarily.)
8. Do you have any other goals you're trying to attain?
9. Do you have any food tips to share? (Come back tomorrow for mine.)
10. Why are you glad (play along, Smarty) that you decided to take this challenge?

Or you could talk about how Adam Lambert also sort of resembles 80s singer Richard Marx, if you are old enough to remember Richard Marx.

So let's have it: HOW WAS WEEK ONE OF THE 30 x 5 CHALLENGE??

PLEASE go visit Mary Margaret, a young teenager who is doing this challenge. Ladies, she and her sister, Taylor from Taylor Speaks, are making videos about the 30 x 5! You must go to Tales from 7th Grade and look at the two videos within this post called "Challenge." I promise you it will be worth your time. These two girls live with their aunt, Kaye, who is also participating at Butler Family Diaries

OK, Ladies, brang it on--The official 30 x 5 feedback for week 1!

ATTENTION 30 x 5ers: BEST 1 MIN. WORK OUT. EVER.

A Commentary on the Final Episode of The Bachelor--Spoiler Alert

As I'm writing this, I'm watching the most dramatic conclusion EVER to the Bachelor, Season XXLIV.

And it is RIVETING. It's just a reality show, and a poor one at that. I started watching this season because my friends were talking about it, and I wanted to be in the know. Let's hope these same friends don't decide to shave their heads tomorrow because I look terrible bald.

Anyway, Jason is down to two women, both of whom, remarkably, he totally loves with all his heart. Clearly, Jason should've been born in biblical times, as he apparently possesses enough love to have several wives.

The two girls, Melissa and Molly, are desperate to be the one that Jason loves with 200% of his heart. Well, 175%, as he does have a small son with whom she will have to share Jason. I believe they'd be willing to share 25% of Jason's heart with his son. Maybe even 27%.

So little Ty did not deter the girls from flagellating their self-esteem all over the place to become Mrs. Ty's Stepmom. I think this could be settled if each woman were locked in a Chuckie Cheese with Ty and a couple of his friends for a 12-hour test of pleasantness durability. The woman who emerges without a facial tic and ulcer wins.

On his date with Melissa and Ty in New Zealand, Jason suddenly showed up with a sheep to show Ty. Do sheep just roam around New Zealand for the taking??

So, drawing on her initial success with a knock-knock joke for Ty, without missing a beat, Melissa almost immediately blurts out, "Why was the sheep shy?" (Pause for effect) "Because he was baaaaaashful."

Jason almost married her right then and there. I mean, they had two witnesses, Ty and the sheep.

And poor Molly almost stroked out when Ty didn't warm up to her right away, but that all worked out.

Poor Jason. He's in a fix because he cannot decide.

I just want to say for the record that if a guy is crying over deciding between two women, the decision should be: neither.

But if he took that route, we wouldn't have, as Chris the host put it, an episode "potentially so dramatic, so emotionally difficult, that we decided out of respect for the parties involved to keep the taping of tonight's show as intimate as possible ... which means we'll taping from inside the girls' swimsuits in the hot tub."

Uh, OK, Chris didn't really say that last part about the swimsuits, but he did give such a dramatic foreshadowing to the end of this season that Shakespeare is going, "Wow."

The catch is, the producers are bringing back, at the last possible moment, the girl who turned Jason down and chose another guy on last seasons's Bachelorette. Apparently, Deanna, who blinks her eyes as fast as a high speed camera, broke Jason's heart, so the producers, who apparently HATE Jason, are bringing Deanna back, who has had a change of heart.

In the words of Shakespeare, "Wow." Jason now has THREE to choose from.

They keep showing Jason leaning over a balcony SOBBING.

This is really stressing me out, so I'm heading out to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of Blue Bunny "Bunny Tracks" ice cream.

Much better.

DUDE. If you're that torn up, don't do it. Don't propose to either one!

Oh, Molly has been cut loose. She keeps saying, "I think he has made a big mistake," and every time she says it, it sounds less sorrowful and more wishful. Yikes.

Been there, Sister.

Well, I have to admit, his proposal to Melissa is the sweetest proposal I've ever seen.

OH SNAP.

6 weeks later:

Jason and Melissa have split up.

Who could've seen this coming?

Uh, millions of people, that's who.

Oh, that poor girl. You can't be a mom of a daughter and not have this break your heart into a million pieces. God bless her.

So now Jason wants to have another go at Molly. Jason also just morphed from Prince Charming to Prince Harming. Who cries a lot.

Molly is shocked but she was always in it to win it, so there you go.

Well, as Chris Harrison said, this was a "historic, historic," and I would add, "histrionic" moment.

And guess what? "The Bachelor, After the Rose, PART II" is on tomorrow night. Is this the one where Ty tells his daddy he likes Melissa better and so Jason breaks up with Molly a second time and goes back to Melissa??? We need more ice cream!

The Dirty Lowdown on Psychic Sylvia Browne

By the way, I'm delighted to be able to include Boz Scaggs' 1976 song, "The Dirty Lowdown" in my post title today because it is a favorite. So it's like the cherry on my sundae up there.

Anyway.

I've shared with you all before that I was reared in a very strict religious denomination. There's a saying about this denom that goes, "Premarital sex is against our religion because it might lead to ... dancing." Oh, how I wish I could claim that joke, but I can't.

We didn't even have a deck of cards in our home while I was growing up. Thus, I never learned to play Euchre and still seem to have a mental block when it comes to learning.

Once we invited a couple over who thought they could teach me. They thought if they were all patient and everything that I would quickly learn and they could then gloat in their superior tutelage of the famous Euchre Dunce. But I knew I was in trouble when the male of the couple began explaining it to me with his eyes closed so he wouldn't have to look upon my dunceness. Then I could see through his lids that he was rolling his eyes upwards while trying again.

Fortunately, Jorge jumped in and stopped the volcano that was about to erupt from the guy's head from his frustration with me. Jorge was my hero. It was like he was saying, "She may be a Euchre Dunce, but she's my Euchre Dunce!"

Anyway, part 2.

Obviously, occult practices were never high on the church's list as "wholesome past times."

However, on my mother's side of the family, there is a history of interest in superstition and mysticism.

Based on my upbringing, though, you can imagine my dismay a couple of years ago to learn that my 80-something mother is a regular viewer of Sylvia Browne on Montel Williams' show.

In case you have missed the 8th Wonder of the World known as Sylvia Browne, here is a thumbnail bio sketch on Wikipedia that will fill you in about her legal mishaps, professional blunders and the church she has founded.

Sylvia has three distinct physical qualities: smoker's voice, a lisp and acrylic talons that only Napoleon Dynamite could draw. But the most irritating facet of Sylvia is her demeanor with people she "reads." (By the way, she can help you out for $850 per 20 minute phone call. Oh, go ahead and call! You know you're dying to know where that missing Target receipt is!)

She's compassionate with people on one hand but is then dismissive on the other. She hands out bad advice with the authority and audacity that Judge Judy hands down court opinions.

Once, I saw an audience member ask about her elderly mother's failing health and the prospect of possible surgery. Sylvia told her not to let them do surgery on her mother. Or perhaps I should say, "Dr. Sylvia said not to treat the patient." Can you believe that?

But probably the most infamous and worst blunder was when, on the Montel Williams show, she told Shawn Hornbeck's parents that Shawn was dead. Of course, this young man was eventually found alive, and all of the details that Sylvia had stated so surely about the abduction were completely wrong. My heart broke when I saw the video of Shawn's mother drop her head into her hands to weep for her son.

Sylvia's defense is that she never claims to be 100% correct and that not even the most respected professionals such as doctors are always right. The rebuttal to that is obvious I'm not even going to verbalize it.

My mom contends that there are some people born with something "extra" about them, spiritually speaking. Whether you believe that or not, this issue is not a gray one in the Bible. About consulting mediums and trying to reach the dead, etc., God says, plainly, "Don't," and there are some very good reasons for that admonition.

So here I am at 46, still Euchre-disabled, scratching my head over a mom who's now watching Sylvia.

Kids today! What's a parent to do? Parents today! What's an adult child to do??

PS: I hope you don't read this as disrespectful to my mom. You know I love her. And please don't think of me as all "holier than thou." I have a lot of issues, too. I'm just processing another mid-life confusion out loud. Maybe I'll just chill for a while with Boz. Get it out of my system!

Revisiting the Vermont Teddy Bears: Introducing "Hoosier Bears"

So, you all know how I feel about the Vermont Teddy bears, as evidenced in this post. But I realize that Vermont Teddy Bears are making somebody rich, and I also realize that the rich person isn't me.

However, I did not fall off the turnip truck yesterday, which is "Hoosier-speak" for, "HEY! I can capitalize on the Indiana tourist craze by making 'Hoosier Bears' and selling them around Valentine's Day to all of the men who want to get ... their wives to deep fry them some beef jerky and funnel cakes! Smack mah pappy and call meh jean-yus!"

So I've been busy in my arts and crafts laboratory creating prototypes for "Hoosier Bears." What do you think? There's one for everyone! I mean, don't they make you want to squeal and drool all over their little cutenesses?

The only thing is, for some reason the slideshow keeps repeating a few of them. There are nine in all, but you'll see about four twice. Argh. But then again, when you're looking at something this adorable and sex-ay, you've gotta look twice. They start with "Girly Girl Bear" at $19.95 and go up. Don't delay; order today. Operators are standing by, but like the Shamwow guy says, we can't do this all day!

It was a Jim/Pam-Worthy Moment

Recently in our Oneighty staff meeting, my boss, Jeff from Abilene, who occasionally lapses into speaking his native tongue, “Abilenien, Y’all,” told us that in an attempt to keep the cold outside and the warm inside his home, his wife accidentally shut their dog’s tail in their sliding glass doors.

Yowsa.

And he just happened to also mention that the dog had an appointment with the vet for a regular check up at 2 pm that day. And he also just happened to mention that since the injury, he had a nagging fear that the vet would see the crook in Doodles’ tail and question Jeff’s “parental fitness.”

It was at this point that my mind flew out the window and hatched a sinister plot, one that was so devious I knew I could never pull it off on my own.

After the meeting, as I sat at my “Pam” desk, Jeff and Matt, another young pastor, were discussing Doodle’s near tail-ectomy. They then went to their separate offices, and I immediately emailed Matt: “Wouldn’t it be funny if when Jeff went to the vet today that they treated him as though they had received a phone call alerting them to the possibility that his dog had been abused and that Doodle may need to be removed from the home?”

There was no reply, except that Matt was back at my desk in 0.2 seconds.

“If we could pull this off, this would be classic. Do you want me to call?” he asked.

Oh, did I want him to call.

“Yes, because although I’m devious, I’m also a big chicken.”

So we discussed how he would approach whoever answered the phone, offering background info, etc. before proposing the joke.

I looked up the vet’s number for Matt, and he went into his office, closed the door and made the call.

I sat at my Pam desk grinning like an idiot.

Matt came out and said, “I don’t have high hopes for this. The receptionist didn’t seem very enthusiastic. Plus, they have a substitute doctor in today, so I’m guessing it won’t go over.”

We resigned ourselves and shared the obligatory, “At least we tried,” as if we were doing Jeff a favor instead of plotting behind his back to freak him out.

The next morning, Jeff came in and stopped as usual at my desk to discuss the day’s activities. As he started to walk away, he said, “Oh--you’ll never believe what happened at the vet’s yesterday.”

(Oh, yes I would.)

“Oh really? What happened?”

“The Humane Society almost removed Doodle from our home!”

He had a completely straight face, but I didn’t believe him for a second.

“Nuh-uhs” and “Uh-huhs” were exchanged between us until he knew that I knew, etc., etc.

So I confessed but found out that Matt had already thrown me under the bus. Because that’s what office mates do.

Anyway, Jeff said he was surprised the receptionist went along with the joke because he has tried numerous times to engage her and joke around with her and cheer her, but she’s very all-business, as in, “What can I do for you” is the only phrase she’ll utter. Sort of like an Angela Martin on “The Office.”

But, unbelievably, she did indeed come into the exam room and advise the doc to “have a look at that tail ….”

BAM!

Guess she just needed a victim.

So Matt and I are pretty proud of ourselves. It was a Jim and Pam moment, minus the romance because Matt is young enough to be my son and is a pastor, so take that out of the equation, and it was a Jim and Pam moment. It was classically awesome.

It was Office-awesome.

Fit to Be Tied and Vulnerable to Being Swapped Out

Look at this thing. Look at this Beast. With a capital B.

You might think that it resembles the mild-mannered, innocuous, rarely seen bedroom-dwelling elliptical machine which urban legend often suggests also serves as a clothes hanger, but you would only be slightly correct in your thinking, about 10% correct.

Because 90% of the time, it is a Beast, an instrument of torture which leaves no visible mark upon its victim, such as a tighter hinder or fewer pounds. Oh, no, it just chews you up and then spits you out on the bedroom floor.


And no one cares. Except your little dog, also known as "Da Beast," who has trouble carrying around the cardboard roll from the inside of a paper towel roll, and is therefore unlikely to bring you any form of liquid rejuvenation like a bottle of water or whiskey in a barrel around her neck. But she does try to kiss me back to life, and no, not just because I'm saltier than a fried pork fritter at that point. She's just concerned, that's all.

Anyway, as I was on The Beast this afternoon, I was forced to channel surf through regular TV because we don't have Tivo for the little bedroom TV. I landed on "Wife Swap," an ABC reality show where a belly-dancing, space-cadet, earth-mother type mom switched places with a pig farmin' mom for two weeks.

But I only watched this because neither "Masterpiece Theatre" nor "Latin for Fun" was available. Just so ya know, 99% of the time, I only watch classy & smart TV. Just so ya know.

Anyway, after the episode, Jorge and I were talking. Well, he was talking, and I was panting and signaling for water since I couldn't make my voice come out and had 10 minutes left to go on the elliptical.

So he says to me, he says, "If you were going to be on that show, what kind of woman would they need to find to replace you? I mean, what would be your fundamental opposite?"

I think he was hoping I'd reply, "Angelina Jolie," and that she might come visit him for two weeks, sans Brad and the kids.

But all I could scratch out was, "A hydrated wife. Because I'm dying here," but he just left the room thinking about my possible replacements, I'm sure.

So that got me to wondering; what would you say? What kind of Mom/Woman would be your alter-ego if you did the non-perverted wife-swap thing?