Five Stages to Death has gotten me in trouble already
I have worked on the book only 4 days and trying to get the outline and story line laid out before I would start writing in earnest November st. My book idea "The Five Stages of Death" has gotten me in trouble already. It's a fine plot and story line, and will probably work out to be a fair novel, but my moral code can't abide my own inefficiency.
Driving professionally means an exact schedule, so anything that messes with that schedule jeopardizes the job. I had two runs that I was suppose to do, and was all set and geared to do them. I missed my last run, thanks to trying to fit writing time into my daily schedule on a regular basis for the up and coming challenge of 50,000 word fiction book in 30 days Blogger has running the month of November.
I've suffered humiliation at work and self-inflicted brow beatings. My lack of dependability, forced another driver to cover my run. Now I look upon myself with digust. I'm no longer able to boast of rock solid dependability and punctuality. This is the first time in my life I haven't been able to feel pride in myself. I let down people that depended upon me. Most of all I let down myself, and it hurts terribly. The first week I missed the run was an honest mistake, but this time it was all my own fault. I didn't pay close enough attention to the time.
I've learned something from this experience though; I can't participate in the challenge. I can't allow myself to let down the people I serve, because my honor is at stake. If I can't carry my head proudly then I have nothing of value to myself or to my God. I'm not a super human, but I won't go through life doing things slip shod or half assed and call them good. A lie is a lie is a lie. When people depend upon me I'm telling them they can believe me and they can believe in me; if I let them down, then I've lied to them. That's the problem with ALL our politicians today and so many others; I can not and will not join them.
I must be the best person I can be at all times, and I must give my best to the world at all times; it's just my moral code of honor that must be upheld. And so for this reason I will plug along on the book idea in a blog and welcome any input anyone might have to make it better, but I will not get into a competition that sells out my honor. I still live by my family motto "Nobles Oblige"; what I must do I will do with honor.
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Retrospect
On the 27 th I wrote about singing praises in my closet, and that I was being prompted to pray for something that was about to happen. I prayed for the wrong thing or just didn't include myself, because on the 29 th it happened. I didn't realize it until I went back and read in sequence.
Sometimes the spirit just blows me away. Well actually all the time, but I don't get the full grasp of how awesome the Christ's Spirit truly is. Like scripture says Now we see faintly what we will see clearly when we are with Him.
We shouldn't be fighting............ever! Followers of Christ are to worship God first and foremost above all else, turn the other cheek, forgive, love and serve others as we do ourselves.
We should be praying and worshipping................without ceasing! Christ showed us how we were to pray and worship; He was and still is our living example.
We are to call into being that which is not as though it were...............believing! To move the mountain we must have faith in the God of all creation. We can't but through our faith in His power, whatever we pray for that is within God's will, will come into creation. We have only to ask in prayer and believe it will happen.
These principles are too simple for us to accept. Even us Bible thumper's and Sunday go to meeting Hallelujah and amen prayer meeting every occasion for church self professed followers of Jesus fish eating on Fridays devout Christians. That is probably why Jesus reached out to all sinners. For repentant sinners aren't puffed up with themselves, but have themselves opened to receiving the forgiveness, peace and love offered. Sinners know they aren't perfect and are eager to become something better. But people that think of themselves as better than others
aren't fit to wipe the feet of sinners, because they are lying to themselves and everyone around them.
I missed that lesson the day the Spirit moved me to worship and I was taught humility.
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Singing Praises from my Closet
I started to write about the trip over to my daughter and son-in-law's house to give Indy their big black Labrador his dog cycles on a cold, rainy day. I will give you the brief version and fill in the spaces later; he had to fight the chickens for his bones.
I began typing and was prompted to play a CD Fernando Ortega's "The Breaking of the Dawn". I say prompted because I am a believer of the one true God of the bible, and Jesus the Christ; mankind's link with that same God come in flesh representing the duel part of the trinity. I was prompted by the third part of the trinity to put this music on. Now I know this might sound strange to some people and even laughable to others, but to fellow believers this is as natural as breathing in and out. When and where the Spirit leads and I try to follow. I don't always understand the leading so miss opportunities, but with fresh wisdom, these become very rare.
I learned many years ago to pay attention to these urgings, so I did today and am now still listening and worshiping. What happens every time I play this CD is: I try to continue doing whatever I have been doing but inevitably I wind up singing, praise waving and crying all at once. My spirit becomes broken and lain at my precious Savior's feet. I repent of all my transgressions and become washed clean as newly fallen snow. It is an experience I wish everyone could enjoy as much as I. It would bless so many people just as it blesses me.
I know now that I need to pray for someone or some particular thing God wants me to pray about. Something is either about to happen or could happen and prayer is necessary to prevent it's devastating effects. It could even be something on the other side of the globe.
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Nick knack paddy whack give your dog some bones.
I've been saving bones now for about 2 weeks for my son-in-law's big black Labrador Retriever named Indy. The bag started out to be just a few handful of assorted bones tied nicely into a hand sized bag placed on the door shelf of my refrigerator's freezer. It has grown into a hough bag that takes up almost a third of my freezer. You'd think I could remember to take the darned thing to my kid's place when I drive over there. It would open up some space to put groceries for myself, but that would make too much sense.
I let the darned thing fall out on my head once and my foot several times. It rolled off the door shelf and onto my endangered body parts each time. News flash! Frozen bones hurt when they come crashing down onto a pinky toe from 4½ feet above.
Chicken bones aren't so bad, but a turkey drumstick can be a formidable weapon of destruction on even a great toe. The worst are beef rib and pork bones; especially roast and chops. These minions of torture would fit right at home in a dungeon beside the rack and spiked cages. I now have one middle toe on my left foot that is a beautiful shade of purple and it looks like I might loose a toenail. On my right foot I have a knot just above my knuckle of the great toe where my most recent encounter left me hopping around on one foot while turning the air blue with profanities, after whacking my head on the freezer door. All I was after was a pound of margarine.
Take my advice. If your going to save bones for yours or anyone else's dog, use a small bag and get rid of it quick before it turns into a WMD. The body part you save could be your own.
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Number 739
"Hi, My name's Jan and I'm calling to find out what happened to a check I wrote to you for October's payment".
Earline says, " Well did it clear your bank"?
"No", says I, "But I've done some checking and all the checks I wrote on the same day have cleared the bank except yours. They were all mailed the same day in the same mail box at the same time and all have cleared except your check #739".
"Well there's nothing we can do about it, you'll just have to pay the $54.00".
I sat there in a state of semi shock thinking, OK now what do I do? Hummm!
I went on line and checked my bank to see if it had cleared and to leave a message with the teller to keep a lookout for the check. In the back of my head I'm thinking it's laying in the bottom of the blue mailbox I threw all the bills in when I mailed them. Or perhaps they discovered it a week later and it's just going by way of pack train to Penney's accounts receivable office.
I called back about 15 minutes later and got Kong who was still saying I must pay the $54.00; it sounds to me like he's got a chip on his shoulder. I mentioned that to him subtly. "Well hell, if your going to be belligerent about this then I won't bother doing a phone payment".
"No! No! No! I'm not being belligerent, it's just there's nothing I can do about the late fee; you'll have to pay the whole $54.00", Kong says in a much nicer tone. "I'd have to get permission to wave the fee; but I'd be happy to try". The low calorie sweetener just oozing from his lips.
"Earlene said it could be waved when I spoke with her about fifteen minutes ago, so I assumed you people told the truth".
"Well maybe it hasn't been attended to yet due to the hurricanes", says Kong
The light bulb lights up and my vision becomes 20/20. This guy finally tells me the answer to what's going on. I know that's the answer the minute I hear it. He tells me it was probably lost in the hurricane because they are based in Florida and have had several accounts unable to be posted due to the hurricanes. They can't help the hurricanes screwed up their world. I can't help it the hurricanes screwed up my payment. So the fickle finger of fate rode in on the back of the bird of paradise that's been trying to crap on my parade.
His newsflash brings me back to my normally amiable demeanor and I pay the guy the payment without further sarcasm. He tells me the late fee will be dropped, and I have made the payment. Plus there is the wayward #739 that may yet be found. Francis went through Atlanta 3 times; maybe one of those times it dropped off my check.
I'll still keep an eye out for check # 739. If it posts to Penney's later it's OK. It will save us all hassles. Meanwhile the payment is made and I'll be credited the late penalty.
And so ends this chapter of my melodrama or my "Perils of Pauline" life. At least this time I come out ahead; "Thank God"!
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Is there anything good about flu season?
Ellen Degenerus said, "It's flu season, so live dangerous; lick a door knob".
After I finished laughing I began thinking about that statement. Is there anything good about flu season?
Being sick and living in a small town is great, I have friends or relatives that bring soups and stews; home made bread, rolls or corn bread to go with the casseroles and stuff. I especially like the platters of burn my face off buffalo wings that cauterizes a raw throat.
I hate watching all those commercials and home shopping programs while looking for something decent. Then there's the soap operas that suck big time. My life is a soap opera, why in the name of God would I want to watch one on TV?
Reality shows fit right up there with the home shopping network in my book. I don't want real life; I get that every day. I want some make believe, fantasy, fun; some excitement and happiness. I want adventure and good movies without commercials. One great movie right after another all day and all night; no repeats. I don't even care if it's in color or not, if it's good. Otherwise most TV is enough to drive me back to work.
When I'm really sick, I'm stuck on the couch or m-biserable in bed. I'm running a fever and sn-dflling into a tissue. I can't say m-bilk, or creamb or emb and emb's. My ears feel plugged and everything sounds m-bagnified through a tunnel. My hair hurts and there's a perfect A-pitched ringing in my head that never goes away. The entire Army Reserve marches over my body during the night leaving tread marks in my forehead. I have bruised sides from someone beating me with a baseball bat. My ribs ache to breath from coughing so much and my poor nose resembles a partially pealed cherry tomato with dried seeds stuck to the openings. I didn't get the aloe tissues I must have grabbed the dollar store recycled sandpaper by mistake.
Is there anything good about flu season? Not much, so I'll pass on the door knobs and the flu this year. There's nothing good on TV.
Who needs flu shots? I found a serving of Jewish Mama's get well soup and a bagel. That will fortify me.
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Should I retire early or shoot myself in my crippled foot?
I'm a crippled baby boomer. Do you know anything about Social Security and early retirement?Do you know anyone that does? I'm beginning to wonder if I should retire early or just shoot myself in my already crippled foot.
I'm disabled and working part time 2hrs day; 40 hrs a month. SSI Disability is threatening to take my disability away and are advising me to take early retirement.
I now supplement my monthly income of 853.00 with average 300.00 and am still having a hard time making it with all my bills. I have all these bills from trying to survive while waiting to get my disability, and trying to retrain myself.
The company I worked for when I had the industrial accident that finished my physical working career wouldn't pay for the bills associated with the injury, nor would they pay for retraining. I wound up with school loans to pay back, because I wasn't told about the grants that wouldn't have to be payed back. I get no other assistance from anywhere. I am suppose to get medication each month and many months have to do without. I tried helping myself by doing without foot to enroll in the new Medicare prescription plan card; I'm told I don't qualify because I have too much income. I asked if I would qualify before I sent the money, because they told me I could save half of the monthly amount I paid for my prescriptions which run over 100.00 a month. This great plan and advice was just another scam that got my money and gave me nothing in return. It just makes one wonder if anyone knows how to tell the truth anymore?
I don't trust any of them any more after the big hype on the prescription card, which followed being told by Social Security Administration that it was OK for me to work part time as long as I didn't go over 700.00 a month. I hit 600.00 twice in the last 2 years and now the next time I do it, I'm cut off. How's that for suckering the public? I worked 3 and 4 jobs all my life earning the money they are taking the disability out of to give to me. They checked and double checked and made sure I had the funds to warrant 853.00 a month; yet now I'm being threatened to loose it because I believed them.
Boy do we need a major overhaul in our government agencies. Just remember they get theirs and don't give a rat's eyeballs what happens to the rest of us.
SSA Response to my question.
"We must pay you the higher of the two benefits. You would receive more as a disabled individual than you would as an early retiree. You would approximately loose 25% of your benefit amount if you were receiving benefits as an early retiree. Your questions depend on many different situations, for more in depth information you should contact our toll-free number at 1-800-772-1213, one of our representatives will be glad to help you. "
25% less from 650.00 month for retirement at 65 means I'd get 487.50 a month to try to live on. After adding the 300.00 it would only be 787.50 a month to live on. Add in my laughable retirement money vested from the sawmill I worked at for 10 years (103.00) and now my income would be 890.50. Now keep in mind I would have to go through all the hoops to get the vested retirement money at least 3 - 6 months and I don't know that I can keep working even 2 hours a day. I missed a lot of time last year due to sickness and there are new government regulations on the job I'm working part time starting in November, 04.
I could wind up back out in the street with all the other hard working Americans that get kicked aside by our government. When citizens no longer make money that can be ripped off by our so called representatives for their fancy lifestyles and perks. People are cast aside and ignored, or labeled eye sores on the landscape. Ah yes I can see it now; tell me more sweet lies and feed us your bullshit so your wages can keep getting raised each year while regulating our lives until we become the new slaves in the kinder, gentler nation. Let's make sure that big businesses gets more tax breaks. Send some more jobs out of the country. Continue to raise the wages of our Senators and Representatives every year while stripping the American citizens of their rights. Make sure our so called representatives and leaders have health care and free lunches, gas, limousines, secretaries, office supplies, plain fare, vacations, the same income for life upon retirement, and, and. Make sure our soldiers have to pay for their own care and supplies. Make sure you get while everyone else suffers.
AAAAAaaaaaahhhhh!
Where's our Minuteman and woman when we need one? Oh that's right, they are being forced to go to another country and fight a war that was begun on more lies, while our home front gets only lip service (meaning more lies, and they sent Martha Stewart to prison for lying) and is presented with the bills.
I think I'll pass on shooting myself in the crippled foot, and I don't think I'm going to retire any time soon. My government is taking care of me. Bless their hearts.
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To Clean or To Dirty?
My mother used to say our family was either to clean or to dirty, because she was always cleaning something: laundry, the house, dishes, furnishings, the yard, equipment, appliances, us kids and herself; then of course the tub and towels and etc, etc, etc.
Well, she's right. I've spent the last two days doing all these things and including the stove and refrigerator, windows, blinds, carpets, and floors.
I was doing really well until I closed the hall linen closet door and it fell off the track on one side and swung there like a spider monkey in a tree. Humm! I thought. Well that shouldn't be any problem, after all it just slipped off the runner thing; I'll just lift it back up and put it back on the track.
Ha! Fat chance old girl. This door set up has to slide past one another each on it's own track.
I barked my knuckles fighting with these doors until my back felt like I'd had a back alley lesson from some street thugs on steroids. After a good 10 minutes of fighting and cussing these expletive pains in the hallway, I ripped the expletives from their illusive tracks and propped them up blocking one side of the closet until the maintenance man can fix them properly.
It's not like they worked perfect prior to their jumping tracks. They acted weird once before and wound up pushed back at the bottom, exposing their plastic guides in the front. But! They continued to work, so I lived with them that way.
Here it is 8:55 pm and I'm finally finished with the cleaning. What should have taken 5-6 hours today, wound up 15 hours. Boy am I ready for a nice hot tub and my book. I'm half way through Sacajawea by Anna Lee Waldo. It follows the journals written by Capt. Meriwether Lewis while the corp of discovery joined on the Oregon Trail. I'm so thankful to my brother-in-law for sending me this book. Living in Washington near part of the Oregon Trail and familiar with the tribes noted in his journals makes this gift even more real for me. Thanks Pete for your thoughtfulness, I needed it after the day I've had.
There is still one last thing to clean today and that's me. The soap and water will clean the body, the book will cleans my spirit, and the Lord will cleans my soul before sleeping.
Yep, I agree with mom, I am either to dirty or to clean.
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Air Head
Air head? altitudinally challenged? How did you know, I'm short? Surely you jest. It sure isn't the hair.Nah,,, I'm a blond by preference.... and we do have more fun...LOLOf coarse I'm a red head, brunette and mixed black blond red and purple when I want to be too. LOLI figure as long a Miss Clairol is in business, I don't have to be Grey. LOLI'm going through my second childhood the first time around to heck with this re-run stuff. I've always been an odd ball; ask any of my sisters.I'm hoping to bring out the new model me soon; the one that eats healthy, exercises and speaks her mind no matter who it offends. I'm not into politically correct. I figure everyone has a right to be insulted just like me. We have to have something to laugh at don't we? I'm all for being sensitive to peoples feelings, but come on now--- crippling the nation by taking away our sense of humor, our sense of adventure, that little recklessness that makes us unique and easy to tell who's a jerk. To me politically correctness is just making it OK to lie to people. And I'm called an air head... LOL OK, at least I'm telling the truth.
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If I should die before I wake who gets the carcas?
I went and donated blood today as I usually do when the notice comes telling me the red cross will be in our area. I wonder even more each time why I put myself through the headache.
I walk in and check in with the person at the front desk. They hand me a notebook with the latest rules and regulations, news of who can and who can't give blood and why. They ask for my name and then check it off; take the notebook and hand me a card asking me to go sit down and wait. About the time you get settled on the chair that is crammed in a corner where 2 people the size of an anorexic could squeeze together with help.
I go over to the person taking information down into the computer, which by the way they have me on file as a suck-out-as much-blood-as-you-can-get-anytime-cause-she's-type-O file. So they already have me in their little system. Yet from this point on I will be asked to verify my name and social security number another 12 times, and my address and phone number another 6 times.
Don't you think they could see it was the same person with the same sheet they just asked the same questions to not 2 minutes ago?
When I said someting about it the looked at me like I was typhoid Mary tursly replying,"We have to make sure." Make sure? Is their memory that bad? What kind of people do they have for nurses and cna's? I could understand the John Q Public being the ones not remembering, but John Q is the nicest ones there.
Last time I went the nurse RN behind her name blew my vein and I had a bruise the size of Pittsburgh on my right arm for a week. So this time I mentioned it to the nurse that had just stepped in and asked for my name the 10th time after just telling the other nurse that before she went on her break.
This new nurse was worried she was going to do it too this time so she called over a doctor. Swell, so much for getting in and out fast.
Now I've moved 3 times for them to switch the bed chair for my opposite arms. I should have ridden a pogo stick.
I finally get settled and she sticks my left arm, the needle sits for about two seconds and she starts rotating the needle while saying something about moving it. That's a first. Usually the person sticks me, hangs the bag, I pump the ball and the bag fills. They fill the viles and wrap my arm and I'm out of there.
Today, I was in there an hour. They had me filling a big bag according to the nurse. She brought me a hot palm pad to keep moving instead of using a ball like normal. I mean this sucker is boiling hot; I had to keep moving it or get 3rd degree burns in the palm of my left hand. Hay, I was only joking about taking 2 pints instead of one to make up for the time I missed. If I say I won't miss again, will you quit torturing me? Anyway, she's milking my blood into the bag; the doctor comes over and tells her the bag is full. She said she wanted the scale.
She then askes me if they can tap the other arm for the viles. Allrighty then. I'm up so they can move the bed chair again. The doctor moves in and sticks the other arm and begins filling the I think it was 8 viles for tests. My nurse takes them and keeps them moving while he's filling them. The original nurse came over when she got back from her brake and gave me a questioning look. I gave one back like I don't know what's the deal here.
I start thinking I'm going to get out of here sometime soon, but they aren't finished torturing me yet. I have both arms with patches on them and get this, they expect me to hold the gauze on them while another stranger steps in and wraps one arm with the streachy tournacate.
Someone else walks up and asks me what my name is and if that's my social security number while showing me the same paper I've showed them all by now.
Yep, I say that's me, same name and social security number I had since I walked in here. Uh, Oh, bad thing to say. Now there's a woman opening boxes with more bags to fill. Shhhhh, I'm outta here; forget the cookie.
The woman hands me a green paper and tells me if I remeber anything I didn't tell them to call the number and tell them not to use my blood.
Ha, they still don't believe it's me and my blood isn't what their records have shown for 5 years now. That's 5 gallons of blood at 4 times a year. Hay, maybe someday they will trust me.
Which brings me to the title of this thing.
If I should die, before I wake, who's going to get the carcas? Will they believe it's me? Will my identification in my wallet and my red cross card, my donar card and Cpr certification card, credit cards and other Id; will that all be enough to verify I am who I am? Where will my body go? Who drains out the blood? Who takes the skin, hair, eyes, organs, body parts? Is there a body parts salvage yard?
It makes a person wonder. Thank God I'll be dead and not have to keep answering the questions; is this your name, what is your name, social security number and your address and phone? "Ha, Ha, people, that's for me to know and you will have to accept the papers word for it."
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Backyard Camping
Backyard Camping
Ever get invited to go camping? In someone's back yard? Among the chickens and ducks?
Ha! Well I have, and crazier still I've been so bored that I've been packed and ready to go since 10 this morning.
I was suppose to leave today but, the person that invited me called. With tissue paper feelings; complete with sniffles and sobs she told of she and her spouse had a fight. So being the friend that I am I listened and commiserated. Inside I'm thinking " Oh brother this is going to be some camp-out." I made the mistake of making a comment when she said she wasn't going to sleep outside and neither was her husband. I promptly got my head chewed on for a while then an apology for being so sensitive.
I then stated I'd be over tomorrow... with the Olympics starting and all, I'll give them time together to work out the kinks and then come over tomorrow. OK, great! I thought we had it all settled until I get another call a few hours later.... all better no more fights and we have more visitors coming. So now I'm thinking "Hmmmmm,
wonder how much room is out there for tents and stuff?" They aren't sleeping in the tent... just the guests.
Excuse me? Your going to sleep in a nice soft bed in a house with a bathroom and I'm suppose to tote all my crap into your backyard, downhill ( both ways), not a porta potty in sight, next to a chicken coop and duck pen, among a bunch of strangers ranging in ages from 9 to 20. The booze will be in the house. "Just a darned minute here, am I the unpaid babysitter?"
Stay tuned for the next installment of my own soap opera "As the Stomach Churns"
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Friday Night & Football
I sat in my car parked along the fence at the South Bend High School football game this evening; watching my grandson play tight end position. Along the sideline fence it's like the old time drive-in movies, only spectators are watching live players in the section known as the cheapskate seats.
Excuse me? Just because the ticket booth doesn't get a fee doesn't make me a cheapskate. I and my fellow spectators have several reasons why we choose to watch from the fence line in our vehicles.
First: since everyone has made smoking a reason to be shunned, and it isn't permitted on school grounds; let alone the bleachers, rather than offend or be offended by the stares and remarks, smokers sit in their own vehicles and light up whenever they please. They are happy and we non smokers as well.
Second: I can't stand fighting crowds to get to an aluminum stadium seat. When I sit down my tush freezes sending chills up my backside until I have to go to the restroom. Then I'm forced to fight my way through the crowd of hot dog and soda toting adults. Each one failing at herding at least six unruly children with all the manners of a terrorist: punching, gouging, kicking, spitting, yelling remarks about the opposing side or just plain being a nuisance.
I get to the restrooms to find the floors with gob-by toilet paper stuck to the floor, ceiling, sink and anywhere but on the roll because it's empty. There is a puddle large enough to fish in at each stall; those kids I just fought my way past, must have been here. If I stand in front of the little eye, the toilet flushes and makes more water mess on the floor for my pants legs to sop up. Thanks anyway I'll pass.
Third: It is much warmer in my vehicle even with the windows rolled down so the neighboring spectators can chat during boring times. I listened to the Presidential debate this evening.
Fourth: I can bring munchies I like instead of those gob-by messes served at the concession stand. I like my chips crisp, not drenched in chili and cheese and left to sit till they are like wobbly mush, or better described as last weeks leftovers in a paper trough. MMMMMmmmmmm tough decision, do I dunk my chips into the chili and cheese or do I want that crap. I'll bring my own stuff.
Fifth: I can use my binoculars when the play is at the far end of the field and see them in every detail. I don't have someone trying to cajole me into forking over my field glasses and then fight them to get them back because they let one of their garbage eaters smear chili and cheese on the lenses.
Sixth: A major point for me is when I get bored with it all; and I do after sitting that long, I can just tell everyone good-bye and turn the key on and drive away. No fighting crowds out of the stadium, across the field, through the parking lot, warming up the vehicle, fighting the traffic our of the neighborhood of the school. When I've had enough football I can just go home.
Seventh: Parents that have to wait for their kids can see when they're coming out. Many make game night a family night out to celebrate a victory, or commiserate a defeat by going to the bowling alley for a few lanes and pizza.
Whatever the reasons, to many of us, the cheep-skate seats are the best in the house. The school doesn't realize that if they made the parking area better we would be happy to pay for the right to do any of the reasons I've already given. There are many valid reasons: ability to just stop by for a few minutes and watch the game before leaving for work or just after getting off work or picking up or dropping off some visitor.
In our little berg there is only one stadium on one side of the football field, not on both sides like it was in my home town in Ohio. We had wooden bench seats. Granted it was more upkeep, but it drew far more spectators than the cold noisy aluminum seats of today's stadium.
There is no half time entertainment to break the monotony of the rampant testosterone and excessive estrogen emanating from the bank-lited field and grounds.
Being a proud grandmother, I don't suffer either of these infirmities nor do I have to keep face through the bragging ritual of my kid's better than yours; as do most of the button popping parents. I find no need to prove my grandkids are the best; the facts speak for themselves.
Our family motto used to be "Nobles Oblige"; at least it was until my daughter married and had children in sports. Now it has been decided when you mix my families motto with my son-in-laws family motto "Trustworthy and Tenacious" and you get "I'll be proud to kick your ass."
So don't call my extended family a cheep-skate within arms reach or you'll get the new proud family motto with a smile.
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