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Laughing the laugh, while trying to walk the walk
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At least it isn't yellow snow
My favorite commercial has got to be the beer commercial that touts the, "Real men of genius." If you've been in a cave and don't know what I'm
talking about, I'll give you a sample one that I'm sure I'll butcher. "Here's to you Mr. Shout the obvious, yelling insightful words to the wide receiver after he catches a pass
like...RUN." Okay, maybe it isn't the same without the jingle, but I've been busy coming up my own ...
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God's will for a Turkey
Unlike this blog, prayer is a funny thing. Pray for patience, and an alligator eats your legs off to help you slow down. Pray for more gluten in your diet, and you become a glutton. That's why I always pray for whatever winning lottery numbers my horoscope predicts. I figure that way if I don't strike it rich, I can curse God for making me the wrong astrological sign.
Okay, so none of that is true, but you can't handle the truth. Actually, lately I have been praying a lot for God's will. God's will is a tough thing. My questions is always how do I know if it is actually God's will or my will? You know what I mean? Say I am trying to decide between a carrot and an apple and I pray for God's will, somehow I think God is going to want me to have a double cheeseburger. That's why I don't waste "God's will" prayers on the little things.
My real struggle is usually when I pray for God's will, I already have Tom's will in mind. If I am praying for God's will but secretly have what I want to happen in mind, aren't I praying for my will? It's tough to tell the difference sometimes. I heard an explanation one day that seemed to make sense until my Bible study teacher at the time shot some holes in theory. What did he know anyway? The explanation one friend gave me was that if it was actually His will, God had a way of opening doors so it would happen. Conversely, if it wasn't His will, doors tended to close. It made sense to me and seemed to play out perfectly one time in my life.
Almost exactly 5 years ago, I was praying for God's will about a very big decision for me and my Family. I was being blessed with a promotion in my workplace that would end up in a relocation to either Denver or Dallas. We had never been to either place so we just prayed for God's will. My boss at the time flew my family and I out to Denver and it was incredible. It was beautiful and after a couple of days there, we were convinced that it was God's will that we would be in Denver. We got back from our trip and I was ready to tell my boss we were ready for Denver, and then doors started closing all around me. I'm not going to lie, it was very disappointing. More accurately...it stunk!
To clarify, it stunk...at the time it was happening. We actually "settled" on Dallas (thanks for nothing God!) and had what turned out to be 3.5 of the best years of our lives. We wouldn't have traded the friends we met, our Church, or the times we had for anything. It seemed God knew what we wanted, but He opened doors to something so much better.
So here I am five years later, praying again for God's will. Surprise surprise it again involves a possible relocation. In the words of the The Clash, "Rock the Casbah" I mean... "Should I stay or should I go?" And if I go, where??? Well we loved Dallas so hoped to possibly get back there. We also really liked what we saw of Denver and considered that an option. While there was a possible opportunity in Dallas there really wasn't anything in Denver. Again, God, your will not mine. The opportunity in Dallas went away and an opportunity in Denver mysteriously (and very quickly) opened up. So...my faithful blog readers...I thought I'd share it with you before even some of my own family, but yesterday I accepted a job in the state where the beer flows like wine. If nothing else, you've got to appreciate God's sense of humor and his reminders that we are on his time and not vice-versa! Happy turkey day turkeys!
Okay, so none of that is true, but you can't handle the truth. Actually, lately I have been praying a lot for God's will. God's will is a tough thing. My questions is always how do I know if it is actually God's will or my will? You know what I mean? Say I am trying to decide between a carrot and an apple and I pray for God's will, somehow I think God is going to want me to have a double cheeseburger. That's why I don't waste "God's will" prayers on the little things.
My real struggle is usually when I pray for God's will, I already have Tom's will in mind. If I am praying for God's will but secretly have what I want to happen in mind, aren't I praying for my will? It's tough to tell the difference sometimes. I heard an explanation one day that seemed to make sense until my Bible study teacher at the time shot some holes in theory. What did he know anyway? The explanation one friend gave me was that if it was actually His will, God had a way of opening doors so it would happen. Conversely, if it wasn't His will, doors tended to close. It made sense to me and seemed to play out perfectly one time in my life.
Almost exactly 5 years ago, I was praying for God's will about a very big decision for me and my Family. I was being blessed with a promotion in my workplace that would end up in a relocation to either Denver or Dallas. We had never been to either place so we just prayed for God's will. My boss at the time flew my family and I out to Denver and it was incredible. It was beautiful and after a couple of days there, we were convinced that it was God's will that we would be in Denver. We got back from our trip and I was ready to tell my boss we were ready for Denver, and then doors started closing all around me. I'm not going to lie, it was very disappointing. More accurately...it stunk!
To clarify, it stunk...at the time it was happening. We actually "settled" on Dallas (thanks for nothing God!) and had what turned out to be 3.5 of the best years of our lives. We wouldn't have traded the friends we met, our Church, or the times we had for anything. It seemed God knew what we wanted, but He opened doors to something so much better.
So here I am five years later, praying again for God's will. Surprise surprise it again involves a possible relocation. In the words of the The Clash, "Rock the Casbah" I mean... "Should I stay or should I go?" And if I go, where??? Well we loved Dallas so hoped to possibly get back there. We also really liked what we saw of Denver and considered that an option. While there was a possible opportunity in Dallas there really wasn't anything in Denver. Again, God, your will not mine. The opportunity in Dallas went away and an opportunity in Denver mysteriously (and very quickly) opened up. So...my faithful blog readers...I thought I'd share it with you before even some of my own family, but yesterday I accepted a job in the state where the beer flows like wine. If nothing else, you've got to appreciate God's sense of humor and his reminders that we are on his time and not vice-versa! Happy turkey day turkeys!
Angels and alcohol (revised with comments included)
It was 10 years ago today that I heard the voices. They were feminine voices that I understood clearly, but hadn't heard before. One said, "Okay, it's time to go" but the other one asked, "what about this one?" The last thing I heard the first one say was, "this ought to take care of him" and I instantly had a cramp in my calf that felt as if it was secured firmly in a vise while someone took a sledge hammer to it. Over the previous 72 hours I got about 4 hours of sleep, but I was suddenly very, very awake.
Three days prior to that I received a phone call that my Father was dieing and that I should quickly get on a plane if I wanted to see him one last time while he was still alive. By the time I got down to Southern California, he was already in the comatose state he would stay in until he passed away. For the next three days, I barely left his bedside. Actually, all of our Family was there and those turned out to be very special days. The days obviously turned into nights and it was then that the rest of my Family would go home before returning the next morning. My home at the time was in Northern California, so I just spent the evenings in the hospital with my Dad.
There was what turned out to be one humorous night when at about 3 in the morning, a nurse came in and said that it was time, and that I might want to consider calling my family back to the hospital. I called them all in, and we all sat around and cried, prayed, and waited....and waited...and waited. Nothing happened that night or that day and we all got a good laugh out of Pop's false alarm.
By the next day, my lack of sleep was catching up with me. Since another brother stayed that night in the hospital with me and my Dad, I decided to close my eyes for a little bit. Probably about an hour into my shut-eye is when I heard the voices. The cramp in my calf woke me up just in time to hear my Dad gasping for his last breath. I got to hold his hand and tell him I love him in his final moments on earth. I should have slept right through it, but instead something woke me so I could be with my Dad during his last seconds alive.
The voices were distinctly feminine but there were no women in the room and prior to me waking up, nobody was saying anything. I'm sure there are a million logical reasons I could explain away those voices and the happenings of that morning. I was tired. I already admitted that I got very little sleep the prior three days. I must have been dreaming or maybe even hallucinating. Or, maybe...just MAYBE...the voices I heard were Angels. I know some of you are thinking, "Wow, shocker, the Jesus freak thinks he heard angels." However, I wasn't a Jesus freak then, I was an agnostic. So, I did what agnostics (and some Jesus freaks) do, and got stinking drunk.
It wasn't like we pulled out a flask right after my Dad passed away. Our entire family came to the hospital and we all mourned the loss of my Dad. However, eventually you've gotta leave the hospital. One of my brothers thought he'd feel better if he had a drink and wanted to know if my wife and him wanted to join him. Maybe it was just to provide him company, but we accompanied him to the local sports bar which was just opening for the day as we got there. One beer led to another, and then it led to pitchers of beer...multiple pitchers. We watched a college football game, and then another, and then the night game. There was a big boxing match that night and the bar staff was charging everyone additional money to stay for the fight. They knew that we just lost our Dad and just let us stay so we ended up also seeing a good fight that day.
For as many brain cells as I killed that day, I also learned something: the world doesn't care if you lose a loved one, as it is going to continue on. It sounds obvious, but when you are actually in the moment, it doesn't feel obvious. I'm not sure exactly what I wanted people to do, but it seems that considering I just lost my father a few hours ago, they should have done something, but they didn't. So I shared some memories with my brother, held my wife a little tighter than usual, contemplated whether I had heard angels that morning, and had another beer.
Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation? Hebrews 1:14
******************************************************************************************
I don't usually include the comments on the actual post, but these comments make a whole lot more sense in reference to this post vs. standing alone.
************************************************************************************************************************
Tim (brother in CA):
I was in the room and what Tom didn't mention is woke up yelling OW, OW, OW, and we looked at him and asked Tom's what's wrong and why are you yelling, he just grabbed his leg and kind of ignored us and went over to my Dad. Within 30 seconds, my Dad took his last gasp of a breath and then flat lined. After experiencing it, I knew Tom had stopped believing in God and I always felt like it was my Dad giving him a good kick in the shin to say "What are you thinking? All that I've taught you and the way we've lived are lives and been so blessed in so many ways and you are going to stop believing, wake up you FOOL."
Cheers to you Dad, it worked. Tom has changed his ways and is now a believer again.
Rhonda (Nurse in TX)
Very cool. I have stood in many hospital room and known that I was standing on hallowed ground with angels all around. How many times have people woke up for an unresponsive state to talk to noone in the room. Scotty's own grandmother did. Nurses know this, no matter their spiritual compass.
Three days prior to that I received a phone call that my Father was dieing and that I should quickly get on a plane if I wanted to see him one last time while he was still alive. By the time I got down to Southern California, he was already in the comatose state he would stay in until he passed away. For the next three days, I barely left his bedside. Actually, all of our Family was there and those turned out to be very special days. The days obviously turned into nights and it was then that the rest of my Family would go home before returning the next morning. My home at the time was in Northern California, so I just spent the evenings in the hospital with my Dad.
There was what turned out to be one humorous night when at about 3 in the morning, a nurse came in and said that it was time, and that I might want to consider calling my family back to the hospital. I called them all in, and we all sat around and cried, prayed, and waited....and waited...and waited. Nothing happened that night or that day and we all got a good laugh out of Pop's false alarm.
By the next day, my lack of sleep was catching up with me. Since another brother stayed that night in the hospital with me and my Dad, I decided to close my eyes for a little bit. Probably about an hour into my shut-eye is when I heard the voices. The cramp in my calf woke me up just in time to hear my Dad gasping for his last breath. I got to hold his hand and tell him I love him in his final moments on earth. I should have slept right through it, but instead something woke me so I could be with my Dad during his last seconds alive.
The voices were distinctly feminine but there were no women in the room and prior to me waking up, nobody was saying anything. I'm sure there are a million logical reasons I could explain away those voices and the happenings of that morning. I was tired. I already admitted that I got very little sleep the prior three days. I must have been dreaming or maybe even hallucinating. Or, maybe...just MAYBE...the voices I heard were Angels. I know some of you are thinking, "Wow, shocker, the Jesus freak thinks he heard angels." However, I wasn't a Jesus freak then, I was an agnostic. So, I did what agnostics (and some Jesus freaks) do, and got stinking drunk.
It wasn't like we pulled out a flask right after my Dad passed away. Our entire family came to the hospital and we all mourned the loss of my Dad. However, eventually you've gotta leave the hospital. One of my brothers thought he'd feel better if he had a drink and wanted to know if my wife and him wanted to join him. Maybe it was just to provide him company, but we accompanied him to the local sports bar which was just opening for the day as we got there. One beer led to another, and then it led to pitchers of beer...multiple pitchers. We watched a college football game, and then another, and then the night game. There was a big boxing match that night and the bar staff was charging everyone additional money to stay for the fight. They knew that we just lost our Dad and just let us stay so we ended up also seeing a good fight that day.
For as many brain cells as I killed that day, I also learned something: the world doesn't care if you lose a loved one, as it is going to continue on. It sounds obvious, but when you are actually in the moment, it doesn't feel obvious. I'm not sure exactly what I wanted people to do, but it seems that considering I just lost my father a few hours ago, they should have done something, but they didn't. So I shared some memories with my brother, held my wife a little tighter than usual, contemplated whether I had heard angels that morning, and had another beer.
Are not all angels ministering spirits sent to serve those who will inherit salvation? Hebrews 1:14
******************************************************************************************
I don't usually include the comments on the actual post, but these comments make a whole lot more sense in reference to this post vs. standing alone.
************************************************************************************************************************
Tim (brother in CA):
I was in the room and what Tom didn't mention is woke up yelling OW, OW, OW, and we looked at him and asked Tom's what's wrong and why are you yelling, he just grabbed his leg and kind of ignored us and went over to my Dad. Within 30 seconds, my Dad took his last gasp of a breath and then flat lined. After experiencing it, I knew Tom had stopped believing in God and I always felt like it was my Dad giving him a good kick in the shin to say "What are you thinking? All that I've taught you and the way we've lived are lives and been so blessed in so many ways and you are going to stop believing, wake up you FOOL."
Cheers to you Dad, it worked. Tom has changed his ways and is now a believer again.
Rhonda (Nurse in TX)
Very cool. I have stood in many hospital room and known that I was standing on hallowed ground with angels all around. How many times have people woke up for an unresponsive state to talk to noone in the room. Scotty's own grandmother did. Nurses know this, no matter their spiritual compass.
Fat Tom gets a Fatwaaaaaaa???????
(On the penguin meter this post is probably a zero. If you don't have kids, you may not have seen The Wild so you may not recognize the reference. I know most of you prefer the "cute and cuddly" posts, but...)
"God is great" isn't exactly something that should send you scrambling for cover. In fact, when said in English, it might even get a resounding, "Amen!" If said in Arabic, it sounds like this: "Allahu Akbar" and can be found in many different places. For example, it is written 22 times on the flag of Iran. It might mean you are going to have a really fresh lunch as it is said before animals are slaughtered. Heck, it could even mean you just witnessed childbirth because those are the first words whispered into the ears of a Muslim's baby. However, If you ever do hear these words, I'd suggest being safe and hitting the deck because it was the last words 13 people in Fort Hood heard, as well as the last words many of the victims on the planes on 9/11 heard, and the last words the victim of the London Tube bombing heard. Allahu Akbar! Gesundheit!
I was reading my local newspaper the day after the Fort Hood tragedy last week, and noticed something peculiarly absent. It wrote all about the good Muslim that did what many of the Imams (equivalent to a pastor in Christianity) have praised since the attack, but it left out one minor detail: the fact that he was a Muslim. Why rush to judgment? I'm sure his religion had nothing to do with it. We have a really strange reaction to Islam in the United States: we are either afraid of it, ignore it in hopes that it will go away, or are so concerned about being politically correct that we cannot call it what it is. Islam is an ideology that is going to destroy us while we sit around waiting for the next celebrity gossip magazine to tell us who is now sleeping with who.
What's to be afraid of right? So they want to kill people if they don't like their cartoons, big deal right? So you could get a fatwa issued on your life? Heck, you could go hang with Salman Rushdie at that point. This was apparently enough to stop the director of the new movie 2012 from including the destruction of the Kaaba which is one of Islam's holy sites. Sure in that same movie the statue of Jesus was destroyed, the Vatican obliterated, even some Buddhist monks are killed, and nobody rioted or threatened the director's life. However, mess with the very "peaceful" religion of Islam, and pay with your life. Allahu Akbar!
We are fighting a war on terror abroad. Yet when the terrorists can join our military, get trained in our flight schools, and live right next door to us, it gets a little tough to win. Apparently our security is getting tighter these days though as the awareness increases. I sure hope so. Did you know that one of the terrorists that flew a plane into the Twin Towers was granted his green card. The scary part about this is that it was physically mailed to his address six months after 9/11.
Did you know that this past Sunday was the International day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church? You may or may not have known that because your church may or may not have talked about it. Even if it did, if you are a Christian in the US, you may or may not have even gone to church because ______ (insert lame excuse here: it was too sunny, too wet, too long, too boring, etc.). Well, thank God, the rest of the world isn't so humdrum about their salvation. In fact, if it was an average Sunday, over 1000 Christians were killed because of their faith in Jesus while we skipped the service we take for granted in the U.S. In the past twelve months, more Christians were killed because of their faith than any other time in history. Today, being a Christian means persecution including the threat of death in 60 different countries. Not surprisingly, Islam is the main religion of choice in most of those countries. I know this is being published after the International day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, but it isn't too late to pray. Please do it now...okay...well at least do it after you find out who Paris Hilton is sleeping with.
"God is great" isn't exactly something that should send you scrambling for cover. In fact, when said in English, it might even get a resounding, "Amen!" If said in Arabic, it sounds like this: "Allahu Akbar" and can be found in many different places. For example, it is written 22 times on the flag of Iran. It might mean you are going to have a really fresh lunch as it is said before animals are slaughtered. Heck, it could even mean you just witnessed childbirth because those are the first words whispered into the ears of a Muslim's baby. However, If you ever do hear these words, I'd suggest being safe and hitting the deck because it was the last words 13 people in Fort Hood heard, as well as the last words many of the victims on the planes on 9/11 heard, and the last words the victim of the London Tube bombing heard. Allahu Akbar! Gesundheit!
I was reading my local newspaper the day after the Fort Hood tragedy last week, and noticed something peculiarly absent. It wrote all about the good Muslim that did what many of the Imams (equivalent to a pastor in Christianity) have praised since the attack, but it left out one minor detail: the fact that he was a Muslim. Why rush to judgment? I'm sure his religion had nothing to do with it. We have a really strange reaction to Islam in the United States: we are either afraid of it, ignore it in hopes that it will go away, or are so concerned about being politically correct that we cannot call it what it is. Islam is an ideology that is going to destroy us while we sit around waiting for the next celebrity gossip magazine to tell us who is now sleeping with who.
What's to be afraid of right? So they want to kill people if they don't like their cartoons, big deal right? So you could get a fatwa issued on your life? Heck, you could go hang with Salman Rushdie at that point. This was apparently enough to stop the director of the new movie 2012 from including the destruction of the Kaaba which is one of Islam's holy sites. Sure in that same movie the statue of Jesus was destroyed, the Vatican obliterated, even some Buddhist monks are killed, and nobody rioted or threatened the director's life. However, mess with the very "peaceful" religion of Islam, and pay with your life. Allahu Akbar!
We are fighting a war on terror abroad. Yet when the terrorists can join our military, get trained in our flight schools, and live right next door to us, it gets a little tough to win. Apparently our security is getting tighter these days though as the awareness increases. I sure hope so. Did you know that one of the terrorists that flew a plane into the Twin Towers was granted his green card. The scary part about this is that it was physically mailed to his address six months after 9/11.
Did you know that this past Sunday was the International day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church? You may or may not have known that because your church may or may not have talked about it. Even if it did, if you are a Christian in the US, you may or may not have even gone to church because ______ (insert lame excuse here: it was too sunny, too wet, too long, too boring, etc.). Well, thank God, the rest of the world isn't so humdrum about their salvation. In fact, if it was an average Sunday, over 1000 Christians were killed because of their faith in Jesus while we skipped the service we take for granted in the U.S. In the past twelve months, more Christians were killed because of their faith than any other time in history. Today, being a Christian means persecution including the threat of death in 60 different countries. Not surprisingly, Islam is the main religion of choice in most of those countries. I know this is being published after the International day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church, but it isn't too late to pray. Please do it now...okay...well at least do it after you find out who Paris Hilton is sleeping with.
I am my Father's undergarments
I hope everyone had a great Halloween weekend. I don't know about you, but i was frightened beyond belief. My scare didn't come from any of the little neighborhood goblins (including the little tyke that loudly announced, "I don't even like this kind of Candy!" as she left my porch). No, my scare came in the form of a phone call from none other than my Nemesis.
I was working on my Father of the Year award by picking up some nice healthy Burger King when my wife called. I was next in the line at the drive-thru when I made the mistake of answering her urgent call of, "Your oldest daughter needs new underwear." What?!?!? I can barely get diapers for my youngest never mind underwear for a teenager. "Hello??? Sir, can I help you?" I must have blacked out in the middle of the drive-thru and now the speaker box was getting angry. "I, uh...I need some underwear" I was able to utter. "Want fries with that?" came the reply.
When I finally came to my senses I looked around at the surrounding businesses to see which one might possibly sell underwear for teenagers. The yogurt shop? Starbucks? The bank???? No, not unless she wanted a venti size, and maybe if I opened a new checking account. "Where do I even start looking?" I asked my wife. "Breathe....breathe..." she could obviously tell I was on the verge of hyperventilating, "Just go to Target, I'm sure you'll be able to find some there."
I love how easy my wife made it sound. I was having visions of when I was a kid and we had generic products. If you wanted some soda, you got a six pack of blue and white cans that said "soda." I was hoping their would be a vending machine or something that said, "your teenage daughter's underwear." No luck. Not even close. Instead of a simple vending machine, there was an entire section of women's undergarments. Not a moment before I got there I realized that a man really had no business being in the women's intimate apparel section of Target. I immediately got the giggles. The only thing creepier that a guy in that part of Target, is a guy giggling in that part of Target.
I passed the bras, and a bunch of stuff I was too old to know what they were, as I tried to not make eye contact with a young women that crossed paths with me. Finally, I found the underwear. Yikes! This wasn't your grandma's underwear. I immediately did my cheapskate thing and looked for the sale and I noticed I could get two thongs for...scratch that, I don't care if they paid me, I was not about to get my daughter a thong. I kept looking and noticed some with ruffles and wondered how quickly my daughter would kill me if I came home with ruffled panties. This turned my giggles into full blown laughter! I passed on the ruffles and finally found some that had plenty of material, no ruffles, and were as boring as I could find. Done. I grabbed them, put on a serious face, and bolted to the cash register.
I found an elderly lady behind one register and hoped she was completely blind. As it turned out, she wasn't even visually impaired and she had a very impressive mole. It started out a normal mole-color, but when she noticed what I was buying, she became very tight lipped and her mole quickly became a mood ring. She looked like she was going to announce over the public address system, "Attention Shoppers: There is a pervert at register 6" but she didn't actually say anything. Instead , her mole just got redder and redder. It was right then that I realized, I am my father's undergarments.
My Dad had a similar, but very different, event happen to him. He was shopping with my sister and two oldest brothers when it hit him that my Mom's birthday was coming up. He decided he really needed to get her something nice that year, and figured new underwear would fit the bill. His only challenge was that he had no idea what size my Mom was, so he told my sister to go ask a fellow shopper what size underwear she wore. My sister was mortified, and my brothers were just almost rolling in the aisle from laughing so hard. My Mom wasn't exactly skinny but at 5'10 she was probably in the 170 lb. range. Apparently the customer that he picked to be the size model for my Mom was maybe 5 foot and somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 bills.
When it was obviously that even threats of the belt weren't going to work, he took on the task himself. "Excuse me, ma'am..." he started as the woman looked to see what he needed and had to wonder why his kids were laughing so hard, "what size underwear do you wear?" "What?!?" was the only thing she said before yelling, "SECURITY!!!!" By the time security arrived they weren't sure if they were supposed to arrest the old guy harassing the pudgy woman or perform CPR on the kids that could barely breath from laughing so hard.
My Dad would have been proud that his son turned out as clueless as he was. I at least learned from him though. At least I was smart enough to leave my kids at home for my undergarment shenanigans.
I was working on my Father of the Year award by picking up some nice healthy Burger King when my wife called. I was next in the line at the drive-thru when I made the mistake of answering her urgent call of, "Your oldest daughter needs new underwear." What?!?!? I can barely get diapers for my youngest never mind underwear for a teenager. "Hello??? Sir, can I help you?" I must have blacked out in the middle of the drive-thru and now the speaker box was getting angry. "I, uh...I need some underwear" I was able to utter. "Want fries with that?" came the reply.
When I finally came to my senses I looked around at the surrounding businesses to see which one might possibly sell underwear for teenagers. The yogurt shop? Starbucks? The bank???? No, not unless she wanted a venti size, and maybe if I opened a new checking account. "Where do I even start looking?" I asked my wife. "Breathe....breathe..." she could obviously tell I was on the verge of hyperventilating, "Just go to Target, I'm sure you'll be able to find some there."
I love how easy my wife made it sound. I was having visions of when I was a kid and we had generic products. If you wanted some soda, you got a six pack of blue and white cans that said "soda." I was hoping their would be a vending machine or something that said, "your teenage daughter's underwear." No luck. Not even close. Instead of a simple vending machine, there was an entire section of women's undergarments. Not a moment before I got there I realized that a man really had no business being in the women's intimate apparel section of Target. I immediately got the giggles. The only thing creepier that a guy in that part of Target, is a guy giggling in that part of Target.
I passed the bras, and a bunch of stuff I was too old to know what they were, as I tried to not make eye contact with a young women that crossed paths with me. Finally, I found the underwear. Yikes! This wasn't your grandma's underwear. I immediately did my cheapskate thing and looked for the sale and I noticed I could get two thongs for...scratch that, I don't care if they paid me, I was not about to get my daughter a thong. I kept looking and noticed some with ruffles and wondered how quickly my daughter would kill me if I came home with ruffled panties. This turned my giggles into full blown laughter! I passed on the ruffles and finally found some that had plenty of material, no ruffles, and were as boring as I could find. Done. I grabbed them, put on a serious face, and bolted to the cash register.
I found an elderly lady behind one register and hoped she was completely blind. As it turned out, she wasn't even visually impaired and she had a very impressive mole. It started out a normal mole-color, but when she noticed what I was buying, she became very tight lipped and her mole quickly became a mood ring. She looked like she was going to announce over the public address system, "Attention Shoppers: There is a pervert at register 6" but she didn't actually say anything. Instead , her mole just got redder and redder. It was right then that I realized, I am my father's undergarments.
My Dad had a similar, but very different, event happen to him. He was shopping with my sister and two oldest brothers when it hit him that my Mom's birthday was coming up. He decided he really needed to get her something nice that year, and figured new underwear would fit the bill. His only challenge was that he had no idea what size my Mom was, so he told my sister to go ask a fellow shopper what size underwear she wore. My sister was mortified, and my brothers were just almost rolling in the aisle from laughing so hard. My Mom wasn't exactly skinny but at 5'10 she was probably in the 170 lb. range. Apparently the customer that he picked to be the size model for my Mom was maybe 5 foot and somewhere in the neighborhood of 4 bills.
When it was obviously that even threats of the belt weren't going to work, he took on the task himself. "Excuse me, ma'am..." he started as the woman looked to see what he needed and had to wonder why his kids were laughing so hard, "what size underwear do you wear?" "What?!?" was the only thing she said before yelling, "SECURITY!!!!" By the time security arrived they weren't sure if they were supposed to arrest the old guy harassing the pudgy woman or perform CPR on the kids that could barely breath from laughing so hard.
My Dad would have been proud that his son turned out as clueless as he was. I at least learned from him though. At least I was smart enough to leave my kids at home for my undergarment shenanigans.
Finally...a REAL writer on this darn blog!
I figured I torture you enough with my own blog postings, time to treat you to a real writer. This is from guest blogger Linda Fulkerson (bio info below). Enjoy!
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Ode to an Old Bird
So Fat Tom, Death, and Aunt Mary walk into a bar, and Aunt Mary says, "Your bar stools are too hard, take me home!" Not funny? I know. Considering I am attending my Aunt Mary's funeral tomorrow...really not funny! This is just my attempt to share that my fat isn't limited to my midsection...as there also seems to be plenty in my head. Fat Tom learn a lesson??? Never!
So you may recall from my Banana dog post (Read Banana Dog post), death seems to be stalking me these days. This time he got my Aunt, and truth be told, she was probably as good as candidate as any. She wasn't exactly a spring chicken and was already in hospice. Before hospice she was very nice...for about a minute or two at a time. Here was a typical afternoon when I would pick up my Mom and her sister Mary.
Mom: Where's your brother Paul? Have you seen Paul?
Me: Thanks, I love you too Mom. Hi Mary.
Mary: You sure have fat legs!
Me: Alrighty then, it was great spending time with you old birds.
Mom: What?
Me: Nothing. Get in the car and we'll get going.
Mary: This is a sweet ride you've got here.
Me: Thanks. I really think Toyota should make that the official motto for the Camry: "One Sweet ride."
Mary: Did you say something fat legs?
Mom: What?
Me: Okay, get in let's go.
Mary: You sure have a pretty face.
Me: Hey what man doesn't want to be told he has fat legs and a pretty face? I'd probably make a killing as a transvestite.
Mom: Have you seen Paul?
Me: Did me mentioning transvestites make you think of Paul?
Mom: What?
Mary: This sure is a sweet ride.
Me: Yeah...it's even better when the car is moving, get in!
Once we get everyone in the car the fun continues.
Mom: The lights red.
Me: Uhhh...yeah thanks, I can still see.
Mom and Mary (to God): Thank you! (every time the light turns green).
Mary: Do you have any smokers?
Me: No, but I'll buy you a whole carton if you stop thanking the traffic lights.
Mom: No! I don't want a cigarette.
Me: You sure? You've made it over 70 years without smoking, you don't want to start today?
Mom: Can you believe the Doctor told me I shouldn't have had any more babies after Paul?
Me: Yes.
Mom: He is so good to me. Have you seen him?
Me: Short, fat, brother of mine...also known as your favorite son. Doesn't sound familiar.
Mom: What?
Me: Mary, you aren't lighting that in my car!
Mary: You sure have a pretty face. I lovvvvvvvvvvvvve you.
Me: Uhhh..your flattery will get you nowhere. Don't smoke in my sweet ride!
That would all happen in about the first thirty seconds and then would repeat itself about 543 times on the ride. If we got to our destination at noon, here is how it would be at about 12:01:
Mary: Take me home!
Me: What? We just got here.
Mary: I don't care. Take me home!
Another sibling: Have some wine.
Mary to sibling: You sure have a pretty face.
Me: Sure...you use that line with all of the guys.
Mary (back to me): Wow! You have fat legs.
Me: I know you are almost 90, but if you say that one more time we are stepping outside.
Sibling: Here is your wine.
Mary (after she drinks the whole glass like a shot): Take me home NOW!
Everyone: 3, 2, 1...night night Mary.
Mary: zzzzzzz
Mom: What?
So that is how my sister got her Christmas picture last year. We were at a family dinner and Aunt Mary passed out at the table. Being the resourceful sister she was, she grabbed her family to surround Mary and had someone take a photo. She just added a caption that said, "We partied like rock stars this year" and viola, she had her Christmas card.
Anyway, the point of this blog post isn't to eulogize my Aunt, it was to point out what an idiot I still am...and you probably still are. If you recall from my prior post, death seems to be my shadow these days as I am averaging about a funeral a month right now. What I thought I learned from the other two was to not get too busy with my own stuff where I wouldn't have time for others and I challenged you to do the same. Well...that is where I know that nothing gets through my thick skull.
I actually got a head's up on Saturday that my Aunt Mary probably didn't have too much longer. On Sunday we went to church and I thought about taking my family over to the hospice afterwards. But...it was such a beautiful day, who wanted to waste such a nice day in a hospice? I decided to head home and take my kids to the park. Before we got to the park, I got word that my Aunt had passed away. Who wanted to waste time in a hospice? Not the guy with the pretty face and the fat legs. Once again, he was too busy. Oh well, hopefully I'll learn sometime. Enjoy your sweet ride in the sky Aunt Mary.
So you may recall from my Banana dog post (Read Banana Dog post), death seems to be stalking me these days. This time he got my Aunt, and truth be told, she was probably as good as candidate as any. She wasn't exactly a spring chicken and was already in hospice. Before hospice she was very nice...for about a minute or two at a time. Here was a typical afternoon when I would pick up my Mom and her sister Mary.
Mom: Where's your brother Paul? Have you seen Paul?
Me: Thanks, I love you too Mom. Hi Mary.
Mary: You sure have fat legs!
Me: Alrighty then, it was great spending time with you old birds.
Mom: What?
Me: Nothing. Get in the car and we'll get going.
Mary: This is a sweet ride you've got here.
Me: Thanks. I really think Toyota should make that the official motto for the Camry: "One Sweet ride."
Mary: Did you say something fat legs?
Mom: What?
Me: Okay, get in let's go.
Mary: You sure have a pretty face.
Me: Hey what man doesn't want to be told he has fat legs and a pretty face? I'd probably make a killing as a transvestite.
Mom: Have you seen Paul?
Me: Did me mentioning transvestites make you think of Paul?
Mom: What?
Mary: This sure is a sweet ride.
Me: Yeah...it's even better when the car is moving, get in!
Once we get everyone in the car the fun continues.
Mom: The lights red.
Me: Uhhh...yeah thanks, I can still see.
Mom and Mary (to God): Thank you! (every time the light turns green).
Mary: Do you have any smokers?
Me: No, but I'll buy you a whole carton if you stop thanking the traffic lights.
Mom: No! I don't want a cigarette.
Me: You sure? You've made it over 70 years without smoking, you don't want to start today?
Mom: Can you believe the Doctor told me I shouldn't have had any more babies after Paul?
Me: Yes.
Mom: He is so good to me. Have you seen him?
Me: Short, fat, brother of mine...also known as your favorite son. Doesn't sound familiar.
Mom: What?
Me: Mary, you aren't lighting that in my car!
Mary: You sure have a pretty face. I lovvvvvvvvvvvvve you.
Me: Uhhh..your flattery will get you nowhere. Don't smoke in my sweet ride!
That would all happen in about the first thirty seconds and then would repeat itself about 543 times on the ride. If we got to our destination at noon, here is how it would be at about 12:01:
Mary: Take me home!
Me: What? We just got here.
Mary: I don't care. Take me home!
Another sibling: Have some wine.
Mary to sibling: You sure have a pretty face.
Me: Sure...you use that line with all of the guys.
Mary (back to me): Wow! You have fat legs.
Me: I know you are almost 90, but if you say that one more time we are stepping outside.
Sibling: Here is your wine.
Mary (after she drinks the whole glass like a shot): Take me home NOW!
Everyone: 3, 2, 1...night night Mary.
Mary: zzzzzzz
Mom: What?
So that is how my sister got her Christmas picture last year. We were at a family dinner and Aunt Mary passed out at the table. Being the resourceful sister she was, she grabbed her family to surround Mary and had someone take a photo. She just added a caption that said, "We partied like rock stars this year" and viola, she had her Christmas card.
Anyway, the point of this blog post isn't to eulogize my Aunt, it was to point out what an idiot I still am...and you probably still are. If you recall from my prior post, death seems to be my shadow these days as I am averaging about a funeral a month right now. What I thought I learned from the other two was to not get too busy with my own stuff where I wouldn't have time for others and I challenged you to do the same. Well...that is where I know that nothing gets through my thick skull.
I actually got a head's up on Saturday that my Aunt Mary probably didn't have too much longer. On Sunday we went to church and I thought about taking my family over to the hospice afterwards. But...it was such a beautiful day, who wanted to waste such a nice day in a hospice? I decided to head home and take my kids to the park. Before we got to the park, I got word that my Aunt had passed away. Who wanted to waste time in a hospice? Not the guy with the pretty face and the fat legs. Once again, he was too busy. Oh well, hopefully I'll learn sometime. Enjoy your sweet ride in the sky Aunt Mary.
Something rotten in ________
You probably all know the spooky kids riddle that seems to read your mind. If not, you take a number, divide it by your favorite color, add a half-eaten apple, then multiply it by the number of letters your first girlfriend had in her middle name, and you are magically thinking of a blue elephant in Denmark. I'm not sure that those are the exact steps, but it is the result and that is exactly what you happened to be thinking. Pretty spooky eh? Maybe that is too juvenile for my sophisticated readers. Let's try a different challenge. Me a_d my m_m are the o_ly two pe_ple who th_nk this bl_g is f_nny. I guess that is still way too easy since I am only leaving out one letter per word. What if I left out entire words? Could you still figure it out? Let's take this piece on the pr_s_d_nt, and see how you do.
"He has essentially banned negative stories about him on national television. The latest story in the ________ Times this morning: _________ is being threatened by the ________ for running stories critical of _________. The image __________ has tried to cast is one of stability. Elect me and I will be tough- tough on the terrorists, tough on the billionaire oligarchs, tough on the ______ _________. You need me because I will keep _______ from falling apart.
Personal freedoms are evaporating. _______ is centralizing all power to himself. He is becoming a new ______ for a new _______."
So...how did you do? Too easy? I guess all of this stuff about the President and Fox News made this where you could complete it with your eyes closed. Did you write down your answers or do you have it all in your head? Do you need another minute? Take all the time you need. Ready for the answers??? Here it is again, uncensored if you will....
"He has essentially banned negative stories about him on national television. The latest story in the Moscow Times this morning: a small newspaper is being threatened by the Kremlin for running stories critical of Putin. The image Putin has tried to cast is one of stability. Elect me and I will be tough- Tough on the terrorists, tough on the billionaire oligarchs, tough on the Russian mafia. You need me because I will keep Russia from falling apart.
Personal freedoms are evaporating. Putin is centralizing all power to himself. He is becoming a new czar for a new Russia."
(Dispatch from Moscow: Putin and Terror by Rosenberg 9/1/04)
Not exactly the answers you had? Now that should spook you more than some blue elephant in Denmark!
"He has essentially banned negative stories about him on national television. The latest story in the ________ Times this morning: _________ is being threatened by the ________ for running stories critical of _________. The image __________ has tried to cast is one of stability. Elect me and I will be tough- tough on the terrorists, tough on the billionaire oligarchs, tough on the ______ _________. You need me because I will keep _______ from falling apart.
Personal freedoms are evaporating. _______ is centralizing all power to himself. He is becoming a new ______ for a new _______."
So...how did you do? Too easy? I guess all of this stuff about the President and Fox News made this where you could complete it with your eyes closed. Did you write down your answers or do you have it all in your head? Do you need another minute? Take all the time you need. Ready for the answers??? Here it is again, uncensored if you will....
"He has essentially banned negative stories about him on national television. The latest story in the Moscow Times this morning: a small newspaper is being threatened by the Kremlin for running stories critical of Putin. The image Putin has tried to cast is one of stability. Elect me and I will be tough- Tough on the terrorists, tough on the billionaire oligarchs, tough on the Russian mafia. You need me because I will keep Russia from falling apart.
Personal freedoms are evaporating. Putin is centralizing all power to himself. He is becoming a new czar for a new Russia."
(Dispatch from Moscow: Putin and Terror by Rosenberg 9/1/04)
Not exactly the answers you had? Now that should spook you more than some blue elephant in Denmark!
It's a small brain, but come on in!
I've got an interesting but very diverse reading audience. I've got some of you crazy Christians, others of you are the heading to hell in a hand basket heathens, and last but certainly least, some of you kooky kats are planning the Jihad. Instead of trying to write a blog where you can all relate, I figured I'd just let you all inside my mind. It was an hour in time that took place last Sunday and it was one of those times where although there were plenty of others in the Church, the Pastor seemed to be talking directly to me. You Christians probably already know what I am talking about but the equivalent for you heathens is when you are at one of your "gentleman's clubs" and you feel the need to ask the stripper out because you just know she likes you (hmm...it could be you OR it just might be the money you keep shoving in her g-string). For you jihadists it would be like the feeling you get when you know you have enough explosives in your underwear to blow your bazookas off. Anyway, the Pastor was talking about how we should choose to live with the freedom we are given as Christians (2/3rds of you probably don't realize it, but there is a ton of freedom with Christianity). This freedom seems to get one particular blogger in a lot of trouble (mostly with his fellow Christians).
PASTOR: On your notes you'll see a line a solid line boxed in by 4 dotted lines. The dotted lines represent the fence line of your freedom.
My brain (which we'll refer to here as peanut): Cool, I think he is preaching about Braveheart.
PASTOR: The 4 items around it should be used to guide your freedom in light of what Paul told the Corinthians, "Everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial."
Peanut: I wonder who would have won in a fight between Paul or Braveheart? Hmmm...
PASTOR: Let's take drinking alcohol for example...
Peanut: Even better than Braveheart...Praise Jesus! Uh oh..My wife wouldn't have just elbowed me if I didn't just say that out loud.
PASTOR: You can make an arguement for or against drinking alcohol, but considering Jesus' first miracle was turning water into wine, you might be hard pressed to say the Bible forbids it.
Peanut: Mmmm...beer....
PASTOR: However, the Bible is very clear that you should NOT be drunk.
Peanut: Did he just say I should NOT be a skunk? If God didn't want me to be a skunk, he wouldn't have given me such bad gas.
PASTOR: That would be an example of how our first dotted line, Scripture, could be used to guide your freedom.
Peanut: I bet I'd look decent in a kilt. Maybe not as good as Elmo, but decent anyway.
PASTOR: The second line would be love for your neighbor.
Peanut: Uh oh...he must have heard that my response to someone's Facebook question of "As a Christian, are you going to celebrate Halloween? If so, how?" Maybe he didn't like my answer of, "I'm going to take the my kids around the neighborhood and we're going to throw eggs at the houses of all of the Jehovah's Witnesses."
PASTOR: To go back to the drinking...
Peanut: Oh yeah....
PASTOR: ...let's say you have a regular group that you enjoy fellowship with over a glass of wine and you exclude someone because you know they struggle with alcohol. At that point you are putting your love for alcohol before your love for your neighbors.
Peanut: Hmmm...that makes sense, but I've gotta be honest, these days I would probably put having another vasectomy before some of my neighbors. Maybe I better work on this one.
PASTOR: The third line on the box would be your conscience. Is the little voice in your head telling you that you are saying or doing things that you shouldn't be doing?
Peanut: I'm not the only one that hears voices in his head??? Phew! Hmmm...I wonder what he is talking about now. I wonder if an example of this would be when I was driving through Long Beach last week and had to make my Facebook status, "is in da hood? Does anyone want me to pick them up some ho's or drugs?" I think the little voice in my head was trying to ask, "As an ambassador of Christ, is this really what you should be posting?" but all I heard was, "Man, you are one funny dude" and then the rationalizing began, "besides, it isn't like you said the B word or anything. You said ho's...that's much better." Maybe the voice in my head needs to speak louder and clearer and simply just say, "YOU ARE BEING AN IDIOT!" Wait a minute, scratch that, if my conscience started doing that, what in the heck would my wife do?
PASTOR: And the fourth line would be self-control. You don't need to look further than Romans 7:15 to see Paul may have struggled with this as well, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."
Peanut: Hmmm...this sounds like maybe Paul was hitting the sauce
PASTOR: So if you decide to have A glass of wine that might be okay whereas an entire bottle...
Peanut: He didn't say anything about not having a box of wine!
YOU ARE BEING AN IDIOT!
Peanut: Was that my conscience, my wife, or the Pastor???
PASTOR: We'll close with the final verses of 2 Peter 3, "But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever! Amen."
Peanut: Okay...maybe I AM an idiot but my Lord offers me his grace and to that I'll say, AMEN!!!
PASTOR: On your notes you'll see a line a solid line boxed in by 4 dotted lines. The dotted lines represent the fence line of your freedom.
My brain (which we'll refer to here as peanut): Cool, I think he is preaching about Braveheart.
PASTOR: The 4 items around it should be used to guide your freedom in light of what Paul told the Corinthians, "Everything is permissible for me, but not everything is beneficial."
Peanut: I wonder who would have won in a fight between Paul or Braveheart? Hmmm...
PASTOR: Let's take drinking alcohol for example...
Peanut: Even better than Braveheart...Praise Jesus! Uh oh..My wife wouldn't have just elbowed me if I didn't just say that out loud.
PASTOR: You can make an arguement for or against drinking alcohol, but considering Jesus' first miracle was turning water into wine, you might be hard pressed to say the Bible forbids it.
Peanut: Mmmm...beer....
PASTOR: However, the Bible is very clear that you should NOT be drunk.
Peanut: Did he just say I should NOT be a skunk? If God didn't want me to be a skunk, he wouldn't have given me such bad gas.
PASTOR: That would be an example of how our first dotted line, Scripture, could be used to guide your freedom.
Peanut: I bet I'd look decent in a kilt. Maybe not as good as Elmo, but decent anyway.
PASTOR: The second line would be love for your neighbor.
Peanut: Uh oh...he must have heard that my response to someone's Facebook question of "As a Christian, are you going to celebrate Halloween? If so, how?" Maybe he didn't like my answer of, "I'm going to take the my kids around the neighborhood and we're going to throw eggs at the houses of all of the Jehovah's Witnesses."
PASTOR: To go back to the drinking...
Peanut: Oh yeah....
PASTOR: ...let's say you have a regular group that you enjoy fellowship with over a glass of wine and you exclude someone because you know they struggle with alcohol. At that point you are putting your love for alcohol before your love for your neighbors.
Peanut: Hmmm...that makes sense, but I've gotta be honest, these days I would probably put having another vasectomy before some of my neighbors. Maybe I better work on this one.
PASTOR: The third line on the box would be your conscience. Is the little voice in your head telling you that you are saying or doing things that you shouldn't be doing?
Peanut: I'm not the only one that hears voices in his head??? Phew! Hmmm...I wonder what he is talking about now. I wonder if an example of this would be when I was driving through Long Beach last week and had to make my Facebook status, "is in da hood? Does anyone want me to pick them up some ho's or drugs?" I think the little voice in my head was trying to ask, "As an ambassador of Christ, is this really what you should be posting?" but all I heard was, "Man, you are one funny dude" and then the rationalizing began, "besides, it isn't like you said the B word or anything. You said ho's...that's much better." Maybe the voice in my head needs to speak louder and clearer and simply just say, "YOU ARE BEING AN IDIOT!" Wait a minute, scratch that, if my conscience started doing that, what in the heck would my wife do?
PASTOR: And the fourth line would be self-control. You don't need to look further than Romans 7:15 to see Paul may have struggled with this as well, "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do."
Peanut: Hmmm...this sounds like maybe Paul was hitting the sauce
PASTOR: So if you decide to have A glass of wine that might be okay whereas an entire bottle...
Peanut: He didn't say anything about not having a box of wine!
YOU ARE BEING AN IDIOT!
Peanut: Was that my conscience, my wife, or the Pastor???
PASTOR: We'll close with the final verses of 2 Peter 3, "But grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. To him be glory both now and forever! Amen."
Peanut: Okay...maybe I AM an idiot but my Lord offers me his grace and to that I'll say, AMEN!!!
I waxed my bikini area for this???
Did I ever tell you about the time I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis (MS)? Fortunately for me, it was a self-diagnosis and as usual, I was wrong. It happened not too long ago and was almost funny enough to share at a funeral and since this blog is occasionally more fun than a funeral, I'll share it here.
It started in late May with some tingling and numbness. I was training for an Ironman so I was used to being uncomfortable in certain parts of my body that tend to get sore after being on a bike seat for several hours at a time. In fact, in the heart of my training, the question wasn't if I was going to hurt, but where I was going to hurt that day. But this time was different. Sure my saddle area was numb, but so was one of my arms and even my face. My face was not only tingling but it was physically cold. As the tingling and numbness spread through my arm into my fingers, things got a little more difficult. The everyday stuff that we take for granted, was getting tough to do. I remember struggling to open an envelope because the manual dexterity just wasn't there. As it seemed to be getting worse instead of better, I turned to WebMD.
If you aren't familiar with this, webmd.com is a website where you can enter your symptoms and it will let you know that you are a big fat hypochondriac. When I entered mine, it said I needed to see a doctor immediately. Yikes! I just knew I was going to lose my...umm... saddle area. My mind started racing as I sent a text message to my wife. Maybe I had MS? I didn't know anything about it but for some reason it reminded me of Ms. as in Ms. Texas or Ms. California. I was imagining myself in the swimsuit portion of the Miss USA pageant wearing a sash that said, "why does she get to be da ho?". Another unanswered text to my wife and my racing mind moved to Lou Gehrig's disease. No... I stunk at baseball, it couldn't be that. Where in the heck was my wife didn't she know my junk was going to fall off at any second???
Actually, I knew where my wife was, I just didn't know why she wasn't answering my texts. I didn't want to call as I thought the friend she was helping take care of may have been sleeping. It turns out she wasn't sleeping and she wondered why in the heck I was all of a sudden blowing up my wife's cell phone with a bunch of text messages. When my wife explained my predicament her friend responded in that typical funny fashion that we are going to miss, "I'm over here fighting cancer and Tom is worried about his freaking numb-nuts???"
Long story short, I didn't lose my junk and I don't have MS. I simply had a pinched nerve and I'm now fine (at least physically anyways). Melissa on the other hand, doesn't just have a pinched nerve, she really has MS. I met her this weekend and she helped educate me on MS and the need for creating more awareness about it. As of right now, there is no cure. Melissa explained that MS basically attacks the nerves in the body. Medicine helps slow the progression of it so her boyfriend helps administer her shots once a month. She looked like she could be competing in a real beauty pageant as the lesions she mentioned having on her neck weren't visible under her long brown hair. To me she looked like a perfect picture of fitness and health with her warm smile and athletic frame. You would have no idea by just looking at her that she was battling MS and sometimes goes weeks without the ability to even walk. That of course didn't prevent her from running her first half marathon the day after I met her. What a stud!
It's nice to see real medical progress. In some areas we have come so far and in others, well...we still have so much further to go. I was discussing Melissa and just MS in general with a friend of mine that lost her Mom to it. I was sharing what Melissa had just shared with me about how she was first diagnosed. At the age of 20, she lost her vision for a week. What was interesting was the same thing happened to my friend's mom years ago, but back then they diagnosed her as having a stroke. I'm not saying that if they had diagnosed her correctly she still be alive today, I'm simply appreciating the fact that at least we are making progress. Until we find a cure, I'll pray and I'll gladly use this spot to create even any extra bit of awareness I can. Heck, I'll even go as far as to say I'll completely boycott entering beauty pageants AND waxing my bikini area until we completely eradicate Multiple Sclerosis.
It started in late May with some tingling and numbness. I was training for an Ironman so I was used to being uncomfortable in certain parts of my body that tend to get sore after being on a bike seat for several hours at a time. In fact, in the heart of my training, the question wasn't if I was going to hurt, but where I was going to hurt that day. But this time was different. Sure my saddle area was numb, but so was one of my arms and even my face. My face was not only tingling but it was physically cold. As the tingling and numbness spread through my arm into my fingers, things got a little more difficult. The everyday stuff that we take for granted, was getting tough to do. I remember struggling to open an envelope because the manual dexterity just wasn't there. As it seemed to be getting worse instead of better, I turned to WebMD.
If you aren't familiar with this, webmd.com is a website where you can enter your symptoms and it will let you know that you are a big fat hypochondriac. When I entered mine, it said I needed to see a doctor immediately. Yikes! I just knew I was going to lose my...umm... saddle area. My mind started racing as I sent a text message to my wife. Maybe I had MS? I didn't know anything about it but for some reason it reminded me of Ms. as in Ms. Texas or Ms. California. I was imagining myself in the swimsuit portion of the Miss USA pageant wearing a sash that said, "why does she get to be da ho?". Another unanswered text to my wife and my racing mind moved to Lou Gehrig's disease. No... I stunk at baseball, it couldn't be that. Where in the heck was my wife didn't she know my junk was going to fall off at any second???
Actually, I knew where my wife was, I just didn't know why she wasn't answering my texts. I didn't want to call as I thought the friend she was helping take care of may have been sleeping. It turns out she wasn't sleeping and she wondered why in the heck I was all of a sudden blowing up my wife's cell phone with a bunch of text messages. When my wife explained my predicament her friend responded in that typical funny fashion that we are going to miss, "I'm over here fighting cancer and Tom is worried about his freaking numb-nuts???"
Long story short, I didn't lose my junk and I don't have MS. I simply had a pinched nerve and I'm now fine (at least physically anyways). Melissa on the other hand, doesn't just have a pinched nerve, she really has MS. I met her this weekend and she helped educate me on MS and the need for creating more awareness about it. As of right now, there is no cure. Melissa explained that MS basically attacks the nerves in the body. Medicine helps slow the progression of it so her boyfriend helps administer her shots once a month. She looked like she could be competing in a real beauty pageant as the lesions she mentioned having on her neck weren't visible under her long brown hair. To me she looked like a perfect picture of fitness and health with her warm smile and athletic frame. You would have no idea by just looking at her that she was battling MS and sometimes goes weeks without the ability to even walk. That of course didn't prevent her from running her first half marathon the day after I met her. What a stud!
It's nice to see real medical progress. In some areas we have come so far and in others, well...we still have so much further to go. I was discussing Melissa and just MS in general with a friend of mine that lost her Mom to it. I was sharing what Melissa had just shared with me about how she was first diagnosed. At the age of 20, she lost her vision for a week. What was interesting was the same thing happened to my friend's mom years ago, but back then they diagnosed her as having a stroke. I'm not saying that if they had diagnosed her correctly she still be alive today, I'm simply appreciating the fact that at least we are making progress. Until we find a cure, I'll pray and I'll gladly use this spot to create even any extra bit of awareness I can. Heck, I'll even go as far as to say I'll completely boycott entering beauty pageants AND waxing my bikini area until we completely eradicate Multiple Sclerosis.
