I had a conversation the other day which involved musing over what it is that inspires people to write.
In my case, it is usually a scary thing like when I'm left alone with my thoughts...And it
has been a long time since we've had a good "dad story".
I was at the grocery store yesterday for no particular reason other than I seriously needed cake. I spend more time there than I do lying in bed with Jeff. I really don't like to grocery shop. They overcharge me for things that I don't really need but want anyway. I know this is happening and yet I allow it to continue, then I bitch and moan to anyone who will listen about the ridiculously priced package of lemon tarts I bought...
No matter how much money I spend there is never anything to eat in our house, or so my kids say, who inform me they are starving to a slow and painful death. Since that is obviously true, I opted to purchase a few additional items to appease them while mulling over the question of which cake to buy.
As I strolled through the meat department, I caught sight of a rather large pork butt on sale for $2.99 per pound. This, of course, caused me to recall a childhood event that I had long forgotten and which I am about to share with you now.
My father inspected my butt.
Not just my butt, he inspected my siblings' butts too, and I'm probably safe in assuming my mother wasn't spared either.
In 1968, the FDA revoked its approval of irradiated canned bacon due to concerns about the quality of data that had been submitted claiming irradiation to be safe. This made the newspapers which prompted my father, the king of all knowledge, to investigate the matter further.
Now, as you may remember, my father believes in human demise. That is to say that he is convinced that the next calamity, plague, act of God, outbreak or global disaster is just around the corner. If the Federal Government wanted to use radiation on our food supply, there certainly had to be a reason for it, and my father was determined to find out what that reason was, the
real reason not the one bandied about for the sheep of society to know. Dad was one of the elite, the enlightened. He could read between the lines damn it.
Dad's investigation into irradiated food led him to a discovery of all things microbial and parasitic. This was the beginning of what I like to call the "Germ Years", a two year span that taught us all the hidden dangers of spirochetes, salmonella, hepatitis and trichinosis, all nasty food born disease inducing germs and parasites that were lurking in our refrigerator and waiting to destroy his family. Dad became obsessed with proper cooking methods and the washing and storage of our household food supply, earning him the nickname Antiseptic Andy.
Trichinosis however, stood out as the most evil of the dreaded parasitic diseases, even beating out the reviled toxoplasmosis which dad had discovered a year earlier.
"Don't you little twits even think about touching a cat! Those damn things are riddled with toxoplasma gondii, do you want toxoplasmosis? I don't think so! Go wash your hands!" which had rendered us all terrified of cats for life.
Trichinosis was certainly in our systems; of this my father was convinced. We ate bacon all the time. Mom loved to add sausage to almost everything; we ate pickled pigs feet for Christ's sake. To make matters worse, we had purchased meat from a farmer that lived a couple of miles away. Somewhere, dad had learned that home farmed swine were most at risk for carrying the parasite...Unfortunately, he missed the part that stated
"in third-world or developing countries".There was only one thing for him to do, he had to save his family. He couldn't have his children running around with giant worms and larvae in their intestines! Dad became the midnight raider.
He sat us all down and we had a talk.
"Kids, I have some unpleasant news to tell you. As you know (we didn't, but we were about to find out),
there is a terrible parasite called trichinella spiralis, it's a species of roundworm that lives in your intestines. It multiplies and infests it's victims and causes a very nasty condition called trichinosis. These worms get huge and invade your other organs causing you immense pain and agony. If you don't do something about them, you can die. You don't want worms in your intestines do you?"
We all nodded in complete agreement that no, we sure as hell didn't.
"I didn't think so! Now, this may sound strange to you but I'm going to tell you straight. The only way for me to find out whether you have worms or not is to check your rectums."My brother Andy stood up,
"Go ahead dad, check mine!""No, no son" dad chuckled,
"I can't just look at your butt and tell. I have to sneak up on them to find them."
"What?" I asked horrified, surely these worms weren't intelligent enough to require a covert operation! What the hell did I have growing in my guts anyway?
"I'm going to have to ask you kids to sleep without any underwear on tonight. While you're sleeping, I'll sneak into your rooms with a flashlight and see if I can find the fuckers. You see, when you are asleep, your anus is relaxed and the worms sometimes crawl out a little bit." It all sounded perfectly logical to my father. He was going to save his parasitic children if it was the last thing on Earth he ever did.
This prompted my sister Sharon to burst into tears,
"I don't want any worms crawling out of my butt!" she wailed, and from the display she was providing, I believed her.
"Dad", I said,
"Can't we just go to the doctor and get some medicine?""You just shut up Kimmy Ann, do you want to wait two weeks until your appointment to find out if you have worms in your belly?" I didn't, but I wasn't ready to undergo a butt inspection either.
"No dad, I guess not" I conceded, then I had a thought,
"Can't we just poop real hard and get 'em out?"
Dad looked at us the way you look at all things pathetic, his expression a mixture of empathy and a desire to alleviate the plight of the poor unfortunates of the world. We were certainly both.
"I love you kids with all of my heart. I don't want to see worms! I hope to God there aren't any in your intestines! But it's my job as your father to make sure you kids are safe and healthy, so I have to do this and you have to trust me, okay?""What are you going to do if you find one Dad?" I asked, imagining my father performing all sorts of violence on the dreaded worms and hoping against hope that whichever one he chose to utilize wouldn't inflict any sort of pain on me.
"I'm not sure Kimmy, but whatever it is, you'll be the first to know." This was hardly the confident response I was looking for. We discussed the particulars and half heartedly agreed to our impending nocturnal exams.
"Alright you guys, go brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I'll be in shortly to tuck you in. Don't forget to wash your hands and don't forget to keep your pants off." Stranger words have never been uttered by my father.
I shared a room with my sister. Sharon was a sensitive girl possessing very little tolerance for anything beyond the scope of normal. This was hardly the norm. She cried and blubbered aloud about butt worms for what seemed like hours until finally, she fell asleep. I lay in my bed and I waited, surreptitiously looking at the door for signs of my father and his flashlight. I knew I'd catch hell if he found me awake, disobeying my father on matters as important as this would surely be met with a very lengthy lecture and most likely a willow switch just to drive the point home, but I couldn't help myself, I
had to see these worms with my own eyes.
An eternity later, my mother and father came into our room.
"Be quiet Irene!" my father warned,
"Don't wake them up or we'll be fucked!" My mother was giggling uncontrollably, a nervous laugh that plagued her anytime something was uncomfortable.
"This is insane Andy!" she choked,
"I'm not so sure we should be doing this! These kids might be scarred for life!" Mom seldom thought twice about letting us watch cows being slaughtered, but this was entirely over the line in her mind.
"Just be quiet and hold the flashlight Irene!" said my dad, as he carefully pulled the blankets off of my sister. Dad slowly moved in closer for a better look.
"Oh my God!" he whispered,
"I think I see something!" He was screwing with my mother, but those were the words I had been waiting for.
I sat up abruptly in my bed scaring the shit out of my parents and I howled like the devil himself had me by my ankles.
"What? What is it? Does Sharon have butt worms? Does she?" I yelped, because if she did, there was no way in hell I was sleeping in there with her. This of course woke up my sister who of course, started crying.
"God damn it Kimmy Ann! Now look what you've done! You woke up your sister! How am I going to catch the butt worms if she's awake, huh? And what are you doing up anyway you little twit? I told you to go to sleep!" I immediately hated myself for my impulsive nature, not only had I blown my chance to see the butt worms for myself, I also knew for sure I was in deep shit. A whippin' was as certain as the sunrise.
"Uh, I tried dad, I swear to God, I tried to sleep but I kept thinking about the worms! I'm sure I can feel them in my belly, I think they're multiplying right this very minute! I'm going to look like one of those poor kids in Africa mom keeps talking about who are starving to death because we don't eat our dinner! My belly will get all fat and stick out and I'll have flies on my face! I wanted to see Sharon's worms with my own eyes Dad, in case we had to shoot her or something."
This was more than my mother could take,
"Oh for Christ's sake Kim, you're as crazy as your father! There aren't any worms in your belly or in your ass, and you aren't going to have flies on your face, nor are you allowed to shoot your sister. Your father is nuts. All of you are nuts! This is ridiculous Andy, let these kids sleep and leave them alone! Sneaking into little kids rooms to check for worms, for Christ's sake, what's next? Now you shut up and go to sleep Kim and don't even think about upsetting your sister, and don't you dare try looking at her butt for worms either!""But mom!" I protested, surely Sharon was the epitome of a parasitic child.
"No buts! Go to sleep!" she yelled, clearly finished with this conversation.
My parents left the room and I eventually fell asleep. I can't say it was a good sleep, given the fact that I had ten or so generations of worms fornicating in my belly, but it was close. Dad settled down in the following weeks, not anxious to repeat the events of that night any time soon, and eventually, this health crisis was replaced by something different, although pork and pork byproducts were banned from our house for a while, just in case.
I called my father today to cross reference my memory of this episode against his.
"Hey dad, real quick, remember when you thought we had worms and snuck into our rooms to check our butts?" I asked him.
"What? What the hell are you talking about?" he replied,
"I never did that!""You did too! You came into our-""Kimmy Ann, you're full of shit, I did no such thing!" he said.
"Dad! Yes you did! You and mom came into our rooms with a flashlight and-""You're crazy!" he laughed,
"I have absolutely no recall of any such thing ever happening in your entire childhood, maybe you dreamed it or something, I don't know."
"Dad! Are you kidding me? Oh yeah, right! Why in the hell would I dream something like that?""I don't know, you're one weird fucker, who knows why you think the crazy shit you do, you're a strange one" he laughed,
"checking for worms in your ass, I never did that!""Okay Dad, whatever! I'm calling Andy and Sharon, you'll see. I'll see you at dinner."So I called my siblings. They remember it too. Sharon was upset by the reminder ( she likely cried all over her husband) and Andy laughed,
"Yeah, I remember that shit, it all started with the toxoplasmosis, fucking cats..."Dad showed up at six for dinner and we talked about it in more detail. He finally conceded that he
may have done it, but was adamant that it was out of the goodness of his heart because he loved us kids and couldn't stand the thought of anything harmful ever happening to us. I hugged him tight and assured him that I knew that and that although he was crazy, I loved him with all of my heart.
"So, what's for dinner Kimmy Ann?"I grinned wickedly,
"Pork chops Dad, pork chops."
I have a new blogging friend, her name is Nancy.
I'm not exactly sure how we became friends, she tells me she found some retarded story about my daughter Kimmy coming home drunk and liked it. How lucky can one girl get? Personally, after reading her, I feel like the poor girl got short changed on the deal, but hey, she started it.
Nancy has a blog called
Where Is My Home? I have her very cleverly listed in my sidebar under "Nancy," or you can find her at:
http://nancybartholomew.blogspot.comI urge you to pay her a visit. Her writing is first class, better than most. Her heart is amazing and the story she is telling, that of her father in hospice in his final days - happening in real time- is gut wrenching honest. The strength to post at all amazes me to no end.
Trust me friends, you do not want to miss this wonderful blogger.
I am honored to call her my friend. Thank you Nancy.
I've a few loose ends out there that need addressing.
First, Bonnie and Sarah are recovering from their surgeries last Friday. They are in the worst part of their convalescence, all the little nerve endings are pissed off making their ears ache. They still have a lot of swelling, so the doc gave them both new meds including prednesone. Bonnie chose to take after me and be allergic to almost every freaking drug out there, so now that we're on our third pain killer, she is feeling some relief. Sarah's recovery is going a bit slower than Bonnie's is, and Bonnie needs to keep the packing in her sinuses another week due to excessive bleeding and seepage-God I hate that word, seepage. They are both drinking lots of fluids, eating soft foods and sleeping a lot still, but have been sweet and loving so all things considered, it is going well. I guess. Because this sucks.
My mother is back in the hospital. As you may remember, my mother has diverticulosis and required surgery in June to remove a portion of her colon. Her hospital stay was horrific, her care even worse and she suffered major complications, including infections, excessive bleeding and a condition known as hospital psychosis which almost killed her.
Her recovery has been very slow, painful and heartbreaking for my entire family, but more so for her. My mother almost completely lost her mind and it has been a very long road for her to find it again.
The things I am going to say here make me feel awful. I feel shame, misery, anger and fear - never a good combination - and sorrow.
Over the course of the last few weeks, mom developed a large abscess in her colon just above the site of her surgical work. At first, mom played off that nothing was wrong with her, then once the pain associated with it became too much, she finally told the doctor what she was experiencing. She went for a CAT scan and it revealed the abscess. The doc put her on strong antibiotics and medications, and opted to try to heal the abscess that way. Her condition of course, worsened. In the mean time, she developed a nasty rash, from head to toe. Mom let that go for days. Finally, it became so bad she had to see a dermatologist. Pathology revealed an allergy to the idodine used during her scans. Then the abscess grew. Another CAT scan revealed it was too big to let go, so mom went to the hospital to have a drain tube inserted. They anticipated a 24 to 48 hour stay. On the TENTH day of her infirmiry, mom developed a large hole in her colon right above the abscess that had finally drained. Mom needed to have emergency surgery to remove that portion of her colon. That was on Wednesday of this week. Her two hour operation turned into six. She is in intensive care right now. It is 7:53 A. M. I am waiting for it to be eight so that I can call the shift nurse and find out how she did over night.
When I walked into the ICU to see her after surgery, I looked around the room peeking into the cubicles as I went trying to find her. I walked around it twice. I had to ask a nurse to show me where she was.
The woman I was looking at couldn't have been my mom.
But it was.
Mom is on an epidural drip for at least a week leaving her "paralyzed" from the waist down to block the severe pain she has. They had to remove the entire left side of her colon and she has a colostomy bag, for at least six months. They had to leave an incision open to allow drainage, and she will be in the hospital for a long time, at least two weeks.
I cannot go into much more detail. My mom reads this on occasion. It will be a long time before she does, for sure, but in the event she were to figure out my archives and stumble upon this entry, I cannot say what I feel, what I think, or how she is with my usual candor.
I can't even find the words anyway. I love my mother. This whole experience has been too much.
Onto better news...
My darling Anna has been figure skating for almost a year (Dec.20) taking private lessons with a wonderful coach and practicing almost daily. I am happy to announce that she will have her first competition in November. It is simply amazing to watch her, and I'm not just a proud mama either. Her coach and the other coaching staff are beginning to buzz about her. Anna learned in eight months what takes other people over three years. She is a natural and she is good. There is already talk of grooming her for bigger and better things... I'm so proud of this kid, but more so, I am happy for her. She truly loves to skate and the confidence and satisfaction this has given her has affected her immensely. I've transferred movies of her in action to You Tube, but as is my usual M.O. I haven't a fucking clue how to get it into blogger to show anyone. I so suck.
My daughter Kimmy is pregnant with her second child. We don't know what it is yet, but she is ecstatic. That will make me a grandma five times over... I am beginning to believe I am getting old.
My wonderful friend
Jay has some wonderful news, she has become a father! Go to her site and check out the goings on. I want to congratulate her and her friend Katie on a job well done and the birth of their lovely daughter Janie. Jay's husband must be so proud of his wife...Anyway, go visit her if you have time and say hello.
The Freakin' Elf Shorts are up for grabs once again!
Ship Creek has his pic posted awaiting YOUR caption. Come on now friends, you know you want 'em... Please, PLEASE go visit him and let him know you came from here so he doesn't feel like I'm a loser. I'm feeling a bit like one these days for some reason...As always, the best caption wins the rights to the shorts, and we all want to see YOU in them.
My father has been M.I.A. but it's a good thing... He has a girlfriend! A real beauty at that. He's elated, she's enthralled and I am tickled to death as it has reduced my grocery bill considerably. More details on that to come...
That's about it. It's time to give my kids medicine, to wake Jeff up for work and for my phone call to the hospital.
I hope you all have a better week than the one I am having, and I hope you'll forgive my absence for a couple of days.
Love you still~
Oh man, I just love this CD.
Beck has long been one of my favorite artists, and Guero has got to be his best work ever. The music is spectacular, completely schizophrenic, haunting and unforgettable. I liked it so much I also bought the re-mix version, Geurolito, a "companion" work that takes the already brilliant Guero and makes it even more eclectic and artsy (although Guero is my favorite). The music is complex, the lyrics amazing... I just love it. So friends, pour your favorite beverage, make the kids play outside (and/or the husband) and play it loud.
Just thought I'd share... Cuz it's Wednesday and I got nothing.
Bonnie and Sarah had to have their tonsils and adenoids removed Friday. In addition, Bon had to have her sinuses scoped out. Both of them have been sick almost constantly for the last year, suffering an uncommon class of strep infections and sinus problems the whole time. Nothing seemed to ever make them better and the infections got a little bit worse and a little bit harder to treat every time they got one, so their ENT decided to yank.
We opted to have them operated on at the same time, as I was concerned that if one saw what the other went through there would be no way in hell I'd get the one who didn't back into the surgery center to have hers done. As you can see, they were both really excited about this idea.
Understand that Bonnie and Sarah are as much alike as oil and vinegar. Sarah lives in the moment. She loves the emotion - good and bad - surrounding any given situation, some might even call her a drama queen. Like the nurses in pre-op.
In Sarah's defense, it was her own fault. Sarah spent the previous night video googling tonsillectomies and watching what was going to be done to herself. She also stumbled upon a report that claimed surgeons were more likely to get shit faced the night before surgery than any other faction of the medical profession, prompting her to force her doctor to talk right in her face so she could smell his breath. She scared herself half to death. Coupled with the fact that she is a sensitive girl to begin with, Sarah expected service. She required "flavoring" to be administered to her oxygen mask so it smelled like kiwi, warmed blankets and a strong dose of Xanax in her IV to settle down.
Bonnie on the other hand, is a scrawny little rich suburban girl who is terribly confused that she is some kind of bad assed urban gangsta...
When I looked at the little chit laying there all tiny in that bed, my heart ached for her. I would reach out to caress her head only to hear, "Don't touch me!" When the nurses asked if she would like her mask "flavored" like her sisters, she responded "Is she retarded? You don't eat the mask!" and "Do you mind? I'm trying to sleep over here..."
The girls were placed in separate cubicles next to each other and separated by a window and curtain. Sarah cried that she could not see her little sister, so one of the nurses opened the curtain for her.
BIG MISTAKE.
You see, everyone kind of avoided Bonnie because she wasn't as upset as Sarah. Bonnie took one look at everyone in Sarah's cubicle, got disgusted and said, "Hey Sarah, I just saw your doc, he's got a beer",
Which started the tears all over again. Sometimes, sisters suck.
Finally, the nurses came to give them the good stuff. I've come to learn that even the meanest brat can be a little sweetheart when they are stoned...
And the sweetest chicken on the face of the Earth can be brave...
As you can imagine, it's been a little hectic over here. Both girls are miserable and sleeping a lot. I even saw them hugging each other! Doc says they'll be hurting for a few more days yet and from what I can see when I look in their mouth, I believe him. Both are doing ok though, so long as the drugs don't run out...
Poor babies!
I don't often speak my mind about political issues, I'm not a politically minded individual. I surf through Blog Explosion and read bloggers expressing their views both left and right and can usually see the merit of their arguments unless they are nut jobs like Pat Robertson. I envy their apparent ability to focus, to remember from one week to the next what a government's position was, what a representative said and did, decipher double speak and hold those in positions of power accountable for their actions. I envy that they are thick skinned enough to handle the maelstrom of comments opposing their views. I don't possess that kind of passion. I blog about my kids, things Jeff does to aggravate me, parties, dreams about a God who looks like Johnny Depp and swears even more than I do, and stupid shit that pops into my head. I'm no good at interpreting what these people in government say and do, and I appreciate that there are people out there who get fired up enough to stay on top of it all, whether I agree with them or not.
There is however, this one little thing...
I have come to despise the ACLU. Mind you, I am not an aficionado of what the ACLU does, represents, or accomplishes. I am an observer, not a watchdog. I pay as much attention to their record as I do any political or governmental organization out there - little. What I do pay attention to is how isolated actions, speeches, protests, behavior, agendas and positions affect me or my country, but especially me, I'm selfish that way.
I don't like George Bush. I didn't like his father either. That is my right to say, to think, to feel and believe, and if the ACLU had anything to do with allowing me the right to express it, I grudgingly thank them for it, although I suspect it was actually a bunch of old guys in knee pants...
What has me so riled up today that I'm willing to risk attack from a pack of vehement defenders of the American Civil Liberties Union?
Well, I'll tell you. This headline:
"Legislators go to court to back Rest in Peace Act" That headline is linked to the story. Read it. Here in Ohio, the ACLU filed a lawsuit in federal court in Cleveland challenging a state law that restricts protesters at military funerals.
I do not support the war in Iraq. Most of us don't. We were lied to, that's been proven. We were deliberately frightened into thinking we had no choice. Our emotions were played upon following 9/11 and we did what our grandparents did - rallied around our government, our country, our fellow Americans and trusted that the folks in power, the ones with all the facts, would be honorable and noble like the governments before them.
The particulars don't matter any longer. We are over there, our kids are dying, their kids are dying and there is no clear path to resolution. Those are facts that cannot be disputed.
My heart breaks for the dead and the families that suffer this reality.
You see, I don't see these soldiers as fighting for our freedom in this war. I think that's a battle call of soldiers past, I don't see it as accurate in describing this conflict. Our kids, husbands, wives, uncles, aunts, cousins and friends are fighting an enemy that cannot be defined, categorized or comprehended. Our soldiers are over there because they are soldiers. They believe in our country, they trust in our values, our leaders and our ideologies, and they are doing their job. They are regular people, just like me just like you with kids and sisters and moms and grandmas and they are over there doing a job that none of us who don't, can fully understand. Our government may have led us into battle, but they are the honorable people who have to carry it out. When we lose one, and I do mean we, we have a responsibility as a nation to thank them for their sacrifice by respecting and acknowledging that it had an impact on our consciousness. We owe it to them, and we certainly owe it to the family left to grieve in the wake of that loss.
No matter what your position on this war is, as human beings we at least owe them that.
The ACLU's claim that protesters have a right to picket anything anywhere is horseshit. The First Amendment giving us free speech did not ever encompass picketing a soldiers funeral, I can guarantee that. In fact, I feel safe in assuming that had James Madison ever imagined such a thing were even remotely possible, he would have written the amendment to say
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances...Except for the law saying assholes can't picket at a funeral for a soldier who died representing our country, Congress can make that one." My beef with the ACLU is that they are no longer the organization they used to be. Once upon a time, they had noble ideas. They fought to preserve our civil liberties. They took on big corporations, big government and large organizations and represented the little guy because nobody else would. I don't think they are that same organization anymore. Actually, I think they have taken the First Amendment and perverted it to fit their agenda. I think they are a special interest group who entertains the appetites of rabid attorneys and legal eagles jumping at the chance to make a name for themselves. I think that they have twisted the First Amendment into a mere shadow of what it was intended to represent. Ask yourself, was the First Amendment intended to block Christmas displays? Provide you with the right to view porn at the public library? Prohibit the Boy Scouts of America from listing a prayer book as required personal camping equipment? Stop your kids from saying the Pledge of Allegiance? Do we really need any of this shit spelled out in legal code?
Once upon a time, the ACLU stood for something good. They furthered race relations and helped secure the personal rights and freedoms of minorities in this country. They represented people who had no voice, no chance of fighting monsters bigger than themselves. They fought to ensure that what we read in the newspaper was accurate and honest, to ensure we were always informed.
They seem to have lost their focus. Let me help them out.
Guys. You need to reclaim your glory. Quit dicking around with stupid crap that makes you look like a bunch of idiots. Nobody wants to see a protest at a funeral, not even you. Go fight the good fights again. Stop the government from spying on our phone records. Keep them out of our financial transactions. Get them to stop listening to our phone calls. Go back to ensuring our leaders are telling us the truth. Help push through legislation that would allow the people in this country the right to be married, regardless of gender or at the very least, make it possible for significant others' to be acknowledged and protected by insurance. That would be perceived as good and useful by almost everyone... Except of course, Pat Robertson and maybe Jerry Falwell.
How about taking up the position of protecting the rights of the poor fucking family that has to bury their dead soldier? How about fighting the protesters who want to picket a funeral? That family has rights too. Geeee... Just think of it... Some tenderoni attorney could really sink their teeth into something as controversial as that, couldn't they? It would be like switching up the pitch in a baseball game.
There are ways to make a name for yourself, and believe it or not, some of them are good.
I've participated in two different golf outings the past two weekends, and friends, I am no golfer.
The first was the annual VFW golf outing to benefit something or other, I'm not sure what. This is an annual affair Jeff and I attend with my sister Sharon and her husband Randy. From what I can gather, the only real requirement is that you wear golf shoes, have clubs and drink a lot. Fortunately, we can manage all three.
The second was the Kevin Mack celebrity Golf Classic with proceeds to benefit S.U.C.C.E.S.S. for Autism, at the Quail Hollow Country Club and Resort. For those of you who don't know who Kevin Mack is, he was a running back for the Cleveland Browns back in the 80's. As some of you may know, we have a family member touched by autism, as well as the children of our very close friends. It was nice to be a part of something that contributes in such a big way. Sharon and Randy accompanied us on this outing as well, and although it wasn't intended to be a big drinkfest like the VFW outing, erm, well, it turned out to be. I blame my sister.
The funny thing about this is that as I said before, I am no golfer. My tirades on the course are semi legendary, I don't have a very high threshold for frustration and if golf is nothing else, it's frustrating. By some miracle, I golfed the freaking game of my life at the autism outing! In fact, I won the prize for Longest Putt, a flipping beautiful one at that. My sister won both Longest Drive contests, and our team- Jeff, Me, Sharon, Randy and celebrity golfer corner back Stephen Braggs - won the skins! On top of that, we won two of the silent auction items. It was really a great day.
Oh look, here I am a little tipsy and hanging on Bernie Kosar and Herman Fontenot.
Monday brought me the nicest surprise though, I got to finally meet Ms. Mac! Yes! Stella and Andrea came to my house and drank a beer with me! They got to meet most of the kids, and Chrissy too. Thank God Chrissy was there to translate, they were telling me a story about fishing and kept repeating the words "bait shop", only to me, it sounded like "betshup", and I had no fucking idea what a betshup was. That could have been embarrassing.
My daughter Bonnie is 14, and as all fourteen year olds on the planet are, she's annoying. Luckily, she's chosen to irritate people other than me, like Sarah's boyfriend Nathan...
Check out the "chrome" wheels...
Neither Chrissy nor I can wrap up any leftovers, but considering it was him and not us, it's all good.
Did ya ever wonder what goes through the mind of some people when they look in the mirror?
Is it just me?
