Just Stay

I don't typically do this...but here's a story I ran across sometime today on an online group. A story that I just couldn't wait to share in view of the fact that I currently don't have anything of any significance to blog about at the moment. Enjoy.

"A nurse took the tired, anxious serviceman to the bedside.
'Your son is here,' she said to the old man.

She had to repeat the words several times before the patient's eyes opened.

Heavily sedated because of the pain of his heart attack,
he dimly saw the young uniformed Marine standing outside
the oxygen tent.
He reached out his hand.
The Marine wrapped his toughened fingers around the old man's
limp ones, squeezing a message
of love and encouragement.

The nurse brought a chair
so that the Marine could sit
beside the bed.
All through the night the
young Marine sat there
in the poorly lighted ward,
holding the old man's hand
and offering
him words of love and strength
Occasionally, the nurse
suggested that the Marine
move away and rest awhile.
He refused.
Whenever the nurse came
into the ward,
the Marine was oblivious of her
and of the night noises
of the hospital -
the clanking of the oxygen tank,
the laughter of the night staff members exchanging greetings,
the cries and moans
of the other patients.

Now and then she heard him say a few gentle words. The dying man said nothing, only held tightly to his son all through the night.

Along towards dawn, the old man died. The Marine released the now lifeless hand he had been holding and went to tell the nurse. While she did what she had to do, he waited.

Finally, she returned.
She started to offer words
of sympathy,
but the Mari ne interrupted her.

'Who was that man?'
he asked.
The nurse was startled,
'He was your father,'
she answered.
'No, he wasn't,' the Marine replied.
'I never saw him before in my life.'

'Then why didn't you say something when I took you to him?'

'I knew right away there had been a mistake,
but I also knew he needed his son, and his
son just wasn't here.
When I realized that he was too sick to tell
whether or not I was his son,
knowing how much he needed me, I stayed.'

The next time someone needs you ... just be there. Stay."

Gotta love stories with a twist.

P.S. If you liked this story, you'll love this.

Top 25 Tweets from Twitter

At the end of my "Are You on Twitter?" blog, (I strongly suggest you read first if you're not familiar with Twitter), I promised you a follow up post. And for your eyes only, here are 25 of my favorite to date tweets from Twitter:

Note: An appreciation of quick wit or off-color humor is required to enjoy. With the exception of those tweets that have been italicized, they are all mine, oh mine!

1. Dear humane society: I would like to trade in my smart ass kid for a puppy. Thank you.

2. Unique & Useless Laws: "In TX, an anti-crime law requires criminals 2 give their victims 24 hrs notice; orally, or in writing & explain nature of the crime 2 be committed."

3. Caught puppy eating wild bunny shit outback. Next time someone says, "Dogs are very clean animals," I'll head butt him/her in the brain!

4. Stains in the toilet. Farting under covers. Garlicky morning breath. Skid marked underwear lying around. Can marriage get any better?

5. My neighbor has been jailed for attempted murder. What sort of intolerant society do we live in? Now we imprison people for failure.

6. Y didn't U reply 2 my "May I give U a RING" email? I ask. "I thought U were going 2 ask me 2 marry U." Stupid woman, I meant a phone call.

7. Dear Jenny Craig: Since we parted ways, you’ve been more than generous at returning all my “lost pounds.” May I have my money back too?

8. A 40 mph wind shattered my patio table. No worries. But somehow, having to clean up a mess I didn't make does not seem fair.

9. I love the innocence and naivety of kids. Mine really don’tbelieve I’ll sell them if I get a good price.

10. My 7yr-old asks 4 breakfast. I offer the usual. “I’m tired of oatmeal, waffles, pancakes & cereal.” She shrieks. “I want some cookie dough!

11. Bubble bath? Check. Baby lotion/powder? Check. My groove on? Check. Then he says, “Babe, U smell like a diaper.” Kill him now, or later?

12. Today I was called an intellectual dwarf. But I'm not that clever or that short.

13. “Necessity is the mother of invention” means? I ask my 9yr-old. “Invent a new mother if yrs doesn’t work.” Yep. She’s still pissed at me.

14. If the dog next door starts howling again tonight, I am going to join in.

15. Dear Katy Perry: As we watch U perform live on American Idol, my 9-yr-old shrieks, "Holy crap! She needs a replacement." I seriously agree!

16. Nature wants me to visit bathroom. Addiction wants me to smoke. Kids want me to drive. Wife wants me to fix boiler. I want to run away.

17. $350 down the pipe 4 a testosterone test. Prognosis? Lose the belly fat that’s crushing the testicles. Could have told him that 4 free!

18. So Obamas dog is a Kennedy. Does every single member of that family wanna be in politics?

19. Dear Maam: Yr “Missing child” flyer caught my eye. Hate 2 screw U up any further, but there’s a freaking difference btw a poodle & a child.

20. David Carradine of "Kung Fu," found dead in a hotel rm. closet with a rope tied to his neck & genitals? Ouch! What a painful way to go!

21. I like to hide cookies in the oven. Last place the kids will look for that Tupperware. And then, the unmistakable whiff of burning rubber!

22. Why isn’t my doctor as freaking brilliant and rude as House?

23. As we're watching "Thriller" on VH1, my 7-yr-old asks, "Who's that guy in red?" I tell her. "Mom," she says, "Michael Jackson is white."

24. Dear Suchita: Would You please punch Mark in the face every time he smacks his lips while delivering the morning news? I owe you one!

25. Most of your tweets are funny. The last one was dumb. I rate it 30. It doesn't have a beat & U can't dance 2 it.

If you’d like to see more of my tweets, please follow me uniben82 on twitter!

Are You on Twitter?

When a family friend asks if I am on twitter, I don’t give it much thought. However, when the publisher of a website that I periodically contribute articles to blogs about it and provides a “follow me on twitter” link…who am I to resist?

According to Wikipedia, “Twitter is a free social networking and micro-blogging service that enables its users to send and read other users' updates known as tweets. Tweets are text-based posts of up to 140 characters in length which are displayed on the user's profile page and delivered to other users who have subscribed to them (known as followers).” Your page at any given time will only display those that you are following, only when they post a tweet.

After signing up for an account, I immediately select a handful of people to follow from the “recommended list,” and post my first tweet. Over a period of time, I quickly learn that Twitter is like a huge party. The more people you follow, the merrier. On the contrary, if you don’t follow enough folks, or don’t follow the type of people that typically appeal to you for whatever reason, your profile page will not only look like (the lights are on but no one’s home), but your experience is bound to be uneventful and lonely. Although the initial concept is based on answering one simple question, “What are you doing?” However, the community continues to evolve into an almost “anything goes” ever changing platform that serves different needs for different folks.

I am by no means claiming to be an expert on the twitter community. But I do know enough from my experience to say that it is almost like a 24/7 flea market (full of vendors, shoppers, and browsers). Most people have a niche. Some are link tweeters (meaning they only post links to current stories or other online publications of interest). Others are known for tweeting off color humor and jokes. Some marketing experts and website publishers use twitter as a way to direct traffic to their online sites or network. Stay-at-home moms often use it as a forum to clear their heads of those infamous ‘mind cobwebs’ or share tidbits of their mundane or exciting day-to-day lives. Motivational speakers, social media gurus, and even retirees have their own approach. A great number tend regurgitate same old worn-out quotes. I have seen movie directors and celebrities such as Rob Luketic and Ashton Kutcher-respectively-update their followers with ‘behind the scene’ tweets from the set of their upcoming movie, “Five Killers.” Occasionally, photos and/or links to live video streams are included in their tweets.

As for me, I tend to follow people who inspire me; have an original sense of humor or those that habitually contribute something of value. And as I continue to learn, grow, and sharpen my tweeting skills, I also see an art form with a future earning potential. Now, if only I could figure out how to cash in, before others beat me to the punch.

P.S. Be sure to read my 25 Favorite tweets from Twitter.

It's a Boy!

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not even close. I have not been pregnant and kept it all to myself for the past nine months. And no, we did not adopt a son in our attempt to even out the 4 to 1 (girl/boy) ratio in my household.

A few weeks ago, just out of a feline scale curiosity, Daddoo and I rented Marley and me. A movie that made one of his buddies boo-hoo like a toddler (from what I heard). We wanted to know why. As much as I hate to admit, it was not a bad movie. Okay, fine. Even by the standards of a non pet loving senora like moi, it ended up being a somewhat good-in a sad heartwarming sort of way-movie. But here’s the thing, we now have a dog. Thanks to Daddoo. Not just any dog but one that looks exactly like, that puppy from Marley and Me. He said a dog would be good for the family. He said a dog would be protective of us in his absence. He said he read somewhere that having a dog offered a kick-@ss benefit. Longevity! And so far so good, Mojo, our 6-week-old male Labrador, is well liked by the kids. Mojo is good natured. Mojo is playful. Mojo likes to nip at anything that moves. Not too much of a problem there…we could work on that unpleasant habit. The problem however, is that Mojo likes to hump. Legs that is. Particularly Furrball’s. And that to me is seriously disturbing!

P.S. All tips about putting an end to nipping and humping would be greatly appreciated. Really.

Breakfast In Bed

I wake up this morning, feeling really good. Ready to serve. Ready to pamper my clan of five, with breakfast in bed. There is no particular reason other than the fact that I feel blessed and lucky. Lucky to be alive. Luckcy to be well. So, I go from room to room taking breakfast orders. Here’s how they each respond to my “What would you like to eat?” question:

Daddoo: A little Oatmeal (sweetened with apple sauce and a sprinkle of cinnamon); topped off with scrambled egg whites, will do.

Kid Sid: I’m not that hungry. Do we have any cinnamon rolls or bagels?

Scrawny: All I want is some home made ABC waffles, turkey bacon…maybe some eggs too.

Furball: I'm tired of oatmeal, waffles, pancakes, cinnamon rolls, bagels and bran cereal. I want some chocolate chip cookie dough!

I tell her no way in hell. Last I checked she's still on hunger strike. And for a kid who could afford to shed a couple pounds, that's not such a bad idea-;)

Is Evil the Absence of GOD?

Every so often you comes across a piece that totally blows your mind and at the same time leaves you with that unmistakable, “I’ve just had a ‘CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL’ ” feeling. Below is such a story. But first, is darkness really the opposite of light? Is death absolutely the opposite of life?

"Let me explain the problem science has with Jesus Christ."
The atheist professor of philosophy pauses before his class and then asks one of his new students to stand.

"You're a Christian, aren't you, son?"

"Yes sir," the student says.

"So you believe in God?"

"Absolutely."

"Is God good?"

"Sure! God's good."

"Is God all-powerful?
Can God do anything?"

"Yes."

"Are you good or evil?"

"The Bible says I'm evil."

The professor grins knowingly. "Aha! The Bible!" He considers for a moment. "Here's one for you. Let's say there's a sick person over here and you can cure him. You can do it. Would you help him? Would you try?"

"Yes sir, I would."

"So you're good...!"

"I wouldn't say that."

"But why not say that? You'd help a sick and maimed person if you could. Most of us would if we could. But God doesn't."

The student does not answer, so the professor continues. "He doesn't, does he? My brother was a Christian who died of cancer, even though he prayed to Jesus to heal him. How is this Jesus good? Hmmm? Can you answer that one?"

The student stands quietly for a moment, before...
Read more

To Write or Not to Write...

...in Cursive?

“My friends,” (If I may snag that famous,cheesy pumper upper of Senator John McCain's), this is the question of the day! This is also a question that was tossed out by my friends at Fox News-Brian, Steve and Lady Gretchen -a couple days ago. A question that’s been brewing slowly at the back of my mind for quite sometime. And if you are a parent of an elementary school age child, I’m sure you’ve given this question some thought at some point…at least, once or twice. I don’t know about you, my friends; but, my opinion on this subject of teaching penmanship in schools is pretty darn simple...

Methinks cursive writing serves no functional purpose in the real world as we know it. Full stop!

In my household, any homework that entails or requires the use of cursive writing is often a great source of anxiety and frustration for my 4th grader…who by the way (just the other day) blurted, “If cursive writing is so important, how come books are not written in cursive?” Well, ladies and gentlemen, boys and gals, there you have it! Right out of the horse's mouth, I might add.

So, I’d say, teach kids how to write or print neatly. Teach them -for the love of mother Teresa-how NOT, I repeat, how NOT to scribble like Doctors. Heck, teach them how to type sixty-words-per-minute (60wpm) for all I care, for that is one lifelong practical skill they could always use. But please, kick cursive writing and all assignments that require my kid to grudgingly spend an hour writing twenty words, three times in cursive, straight to the curb, next to that huge pile of dog s.h.i.t!

An Attitude of Gratitude

Prelude:
A few months ago a very close friend of my oldest daughter (Tracy-not her real name) lost her home to a foreclosure. Consequently, they (her single mom, and three siblings) had to move in with a relative who had several children of his own. From what I hear via my daughter, Tracy is very unhappy in their “overcrowded” living arrangement and wishes that one day (soon) her mom would find them a place of their own, where she would not have to share a room with three other family members. In the meantime, Tracy continues to rotate between crashing at our house or at the home of some other friend(s).

A couple days after Christmas, I overhear Kidsid chatting on the phone with another close friend of hers:

“You’re lucky, you got everything you asked for,” she blurts in a dejected tone of voice.
“What’s the matter with you?” I interrupt. “You got a lot of stuff that were on your list.”
“Not really.” She replies in a pretentious tone of voice. “I asked for jewelry and shoes, no one gave me shoes or jewelry. I asked for gift cards to Kohl’s, Hollister’s, Wet Seal, and American Eagle. Almost everyone gave me iTunes gift cards.”
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“No.”
“Are you cold?”
“No, the heater is blowing fine in my room.” She says.
“Do you like having your own room?” I continue.
“Yeah. Why?”
“When was the last time you to talked to Tracy?”
“I don’t know. She doesn’t have a cell phone anymore.”
“Would it kill you to be thankful for all the things you have rather than focusing on what you didn’t get or don’t have?” I ask.

All I get from her as far as a response goes, is a lame shrug.


To all who continue to pester me with, “What’s your new year’s resolution,” pay close attention...

I have zero plans to join Gold’s Gym. I have nada desire to meet Jenny Craig. In fact, I have zilch intention of discontinuing my year long campaign against neighbors who continue to park their vehicles on the road rather than in their driveway. The only resolution that I have for the upcoming year 2009 (and beyond) nonetheless, is simple. I intend to live each day with an attitude of gratitude for all things great and small. How about you?

Happy New Year!

A Death Wish for the Ages

P r e l u d e
Lately, Furrball’s fascination with death and dying…or should I say curiosity is a bit mind boggling. See, she’ll ask questions like:

-Does it hurt when we die?
-Do we get to keep the same body?
-Will there be enough room for everyone in heaven?

Other questions in my opinion are downright hilarious, especially when they revolve around her desire to evolve into Piplup-her favorite Pokémon after death.

F i n a l e
As I am tucking her in bed two nights ago, she says, “I love you mommy.”
“I love you more.” I reply.
“That’s not possible. I love you forever and infinity.” She continues in a proud tone of voice.
“I love you even when I am dead and not around anymore.” I say.

Pause, pause, pause…

“So, if you die, who’s gonna take care of me…Daddy?”
“Sure.” I reply. “I think he will do a great job.”

Pause, pause, pause…

“Well, if you die, can you take me with you?”

And what do you say to that, other than, “Go to sleep Dear,” with the biggest smooch on the forehead?

To Vote or not to Vote?

Typically, there are three types of topics that have the ability to send me snoozing faster than a cup of warm milk or a generous glass of merlot. They are, in order of potency, all discussions pertaining to:

-Politics
-Budgeting
-Get Rich Quick schemes

However, as an African immigrant with zero interest in politics (with the exception of maybe some kick-ass political action flicks), Barack’s nomination, did manage to tickle my fancy at some point…to some degree. To date, I still run into an occasional die hard Obama fan who would love nothing more than to pick me up by both feet; dangle me from side to side to try and figure out why my Obama enthusiasm falls short by their measure...READ MORE

An Appetite for Destruction

Thinking about getting a puppy? Think again!

A Dog may be man's best friend; but, a puppy? Be warned! Its potential and abilities for destructive behaviour when not supervised is mind boggling!

Anyway, several months ago, Daddoo in his infinite wisdom (and against my better judgement... of course), decided to get the girls an Australian Shepherd with the dispositon of a psychotic Dingo.

So far, so good, here's what we have to show for it...

HOLES

ON OUR DECK FLOORING

SHREDDED WINDOW MOLDING

(From chewing)
****************

DITCHES

MINI CAVES

(From digging)
*************

HER RECLINER BED

Before

And After...

(From chewing, clawing, or digging???)

************************************

So, still thinking about getting a puppy?

Don't say I didn't warn you-;)

Kiddie Rationale

After a short…I mean (really short) and hasty bedtime prayer while tucking Furr-ball in last night, below is the conversation that followed:

FURR-BALL
(excitedly)
Mom, I like God

ME
(yawning)
Me too

FURR-BALL
I think he is a really smart boy

ME
I think so too.

FURR-BALL
Mom, do you think he is smarter than daddy?

ME
(smiling)
What do you think?

FURR-BALL
Well, he made TVs, and vacuum cleaners and fun games...he must be smarter than daddy.

ME
(puzzled-frowning and yawning)
Really?

FURR-BALL
Uh-huh. But don’t tell dad I said that-okay?

ME
(grinning)

Okay

I wanted to explain the facts of life regarding techno gadgets and God’s true creations… but it was late and I was tired-;)

Sibling Rivalry

I am giving my younger two a bath and as usual, they begin to squabble over something of zero significance, like, who has more bubbles on their side of the bath tub.

"I hate you!" Exclaim Furr-ball.
"That's not a nice thing to say to your sister," I caution.
"But Mom, I really, really, hate her. She is mean!"

"Oh really?"

"Uh-huh"

"If you hate her that much," I begin, "Why then do you always ask me where she is when you first wake up in the morning?"
"That doesn't mean I like her." She replies. "I just want to know where the heck she is."

Kids. You can't live without them. You can't trade them in -;)

Happy Birthday, America...

And

Thank

You

That's all-:)

Little Miss "Smarty Pants"

So, we are cruising along-mile by mile-heading home from our visit to the pacific northwest. And somewhere between the City of Lights and the Grand Canyon; or perhaps it was between the Land of Enchantment and the Lone Star state...who cares? I don’t remember. Anyhow, I hear Furr-ball sighing…for the third or fourth time and decide to turn around to find out why. Below is the conversation that ensued:

“What’s the matter?” I ask. “Are you bored?”
“Yes,” She replies. “There’s nothing to do.”
“Why don’t you take a nap?”
“Sleeping is not something to do.”

(Ouch! That hurt!! And of course Daddoo had to give it a try).

“ Why don’t you play one of your Nitendo DS games then?
“Dad,that’s a great idea!" She replies. "But, I don’t want to.”

Well, what more can I say? We pretty much had to bite our tongues and keep our opinions and suggestions to ourselves for the next 1,800 miles or so. Miss “Smarty Pants” did not leave us much of a recourse-;)

A Hershey's Kisses Kiss

For mother’s day, Scrawny brings me a handful of Hershey’s Kisses from school in addition to a hand made card and instructs me not to share it with anyone. And despite the massive amount of begging and pleading that Furr-ball could muster up, the answer from me to her, was still a firm, “Sorry, Charlie, I have my orders.”

Yesterday, while packing Furr-ball’s school lunch, I found a morsel of the chocolate that I had put away especially for her-(yes, I had every intention of sharing!). I tossed it into a zip lock bag and wrote,
“From me to you, here’s a very special kiss. Love, Mom.”

Hours later as I stand by the office of our local elementary school, waiting to pick up my girls, Furr-ball comes running out , waving that same old zip lock bag.

“That was so sweet of you, Mom,” she says.
“Why didn’t you eat it?” I ask.
“Because I wanted to share it with you.” She replies. She then tears off the wrapping; asks me to take a bite and quickly tosses the rest inside her mouth. Holding back the tears is tough…but, I try as I give her a tight squeeze.

Is there a point to this rambling of an obviously proud and mushy Mama? You bet! If you know of a kindergartner or any other child for that matter that could give my Furr-ball a run for her money when it comes to being totally Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet, I’d say...BRING IT-;)

Introspectively Speaking...

...Here are some Words of Wisdom that I have been chewing on. Feel free to share your favorites:

There are no shortcuts to any place worth going -Beverly Sills

The best way to knock the chip off your neighbor’s shoulder is to pat him on the back -Unknown

We can do no great things…only small things with great love-Mother Teresa

Courage is not the towering oak that sees storms come and go; it is the fragile blossom that opens in the snow -Alice Mackenzie Swaim

A real friend never gets in your way - unless you happen to be on the way down. -Dr. Wayne Dyer

Tough times never last, tough people do -Robert Schuller

Adversity causes some men to break; Others to break records - William A. Ward

Life isn't a matter of milestones, but moments-Rose Kennedy

A pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity: an optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty – Winston Churchill

If it’s not a labor of love, the money better be darn good- BD-;)

Eggs Phobia

Furr-ball is causing a bit of commotion this morning over breakfast(as usual). See, whenever anyone sitting next to her or across from her is having a meal that consists of scrambled eggs, you can count on her unsolicited; somewhat uncivil commentary, which typically begins with, “Pheeeewwwwwwwww, your food stinks!” To restore some order, I explain to her that her sisters did not even care for eggs until they were older.

Later, as I am driving her and Scrawny to school , she asks, “Mom, will I still be 6-years-old when I go to first grade?”
“Yes,” I reply. “But then, it'll be your birthday and you’ll turn 7!”
“I’m afraid to turn 7!” She exclaims.
“Why?” I ask
“Because I might have to eat eggs.”
“What?”
Never mind, I thought. It took me awhile to figure out the logic behind where she was coming from and it all made perfect sense-;)

Tax refund (Message ID K82737-L15)‏...

...Is yet another one of several email messages I've been receiving from the IRS or someone that claims to be the IRS. It generally starts off with:

"After the last annual calculations of your fiscal activity we have determined that you are eligible to receive a tax refund of $873.20. Please submit the tax refund request and allow us 3-9 days in order to process it. A refund can be delayed for a variety of reasons. For example submitting invalid records or applying after the deadline...

Regards, Internal Revenue Service."

But see, there's one problem. Last year, I worked as a stay-at-home mom without pay! Come to think of it, I may have actually earned $37.50 for test piloting a calandering software for FamilyFun Magazine. That's all! So, if you've been getting this email as well, I hope you've been putting your "delete button" to good use. After all, we all know that Uncle Sam does not give it away. ..at least not that easily-;)

English is my Second Language

I consider myself level headed, thoughtful, somewhat intelligent…in fact, I consider myself totally awesome, in general. Yep, and let’s not forget modest too! However, on occasion, particularly during the ragweed season, when I’m fighting that "foggy fog" feeling, even a clever cookie like yours truly can somehow manage to not get the point of a conversation, a riddle, an anecdote or a popular cliché.

While tidying up my desktop this morning, I stumbled upon a document I had previously posted on one of those online “anything goes” message boards, titled, "About Forrest Gump."

“Anyone who'd seen ‘Forrest Gump’ is more than likely familiar with this line:
'My momma always said, Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get.' (or something like that).

Well, here I am several years later, thinking, what genius wrote that line? I don't know about you, but if I'm at the store and happen to pull out some dinero from my wallet to pay for a box of chocolatte, there better be nothing other than chocolate in that box when I get home! I expect no more or less. Woman wants chocolate. Woman pays for a box of chocolate. Woman should know that she is definitely getting some chocolate in that box of chocolate that she’d just paid for. Full stop!

A handful of the board members quickly responded with one variation of "you missed the point, or another. While others teased that I had a lot to learn about chocolates or American clichés. "

The following morning, Daddoo of course, says to me, “I read that thing you wrote about Forrest Gump…blah, blah, blah…lecture…blah…I think you missed the point…blah blah." And all I had to say in my defense, was, "Hey, English is my second language."

That my fellow legal aliens, is a seriously legal excuse you could always take to the bank-;)