My Gram and I used to share a Snow White impairment. Whenever the subject came up, we could never name all seven of the diamond-mine-working dwarfs. We'd go through our list of names, counting them on our fingers, and always coming up with six. Some of my younger readers may be thinking, "Well, why didn't you just get online and Google it? Or just look it up on IMDB?" Well, my dears, we didn't have a computer. Most people didn't in those days. And IMDB, one of my favorite websites, had not yet even been dreamt of. It became quite a running joke between us. We'd keep trying and trying, and finally I would say, "I know who number seven is, Gram! Rudolph!" Then we would get a bad case of the giggles, and I'd make some popcorn before watching the movie to find out that it was Bashful whom we were forgetting.
I think it is fun to find out who people choose as their favorite of Snow White's dear friends, and why. I actually have two favorites. I have always loved Dopey and Grumpy. How could you not love Dopey? He is a sweet, simple soul. His love is pure and unconditional. He may not be the brightest of the bunch, but his devotion is true. Sweet little Dopey with the big ears. He is just so easy to adore. My other favorite is Grumpy. This may surprise you after how I have gone on about Dopey. I think he puts on a gruff exterior to hide what a big marshmallow he is. When the dwarfs think that they have lost Snow White forever, no one is more crushed than Grumpy. Unless perhaps it is Dopey, of course. He tries to act like Snow White irritates him with all of her rules, but he would gladly do whatever she asked him to do.
I think another big reason that I love these two is that they are different from the rest of the group. Dopey is the underdog. I want to protect him from harm. I don't want to see him get left behind. And I want to bake Grumpy a big batch of cookies so he can tell me how awful they are as he slips half a dozen into his pockets to eat later. The big old softy will probably share them with Dopey, who forgot to bring any cookies of his own to work that day.
Even though I have my favorites, I think all the dwarfs are great men. They take in an orphaned girl even though they know she has an Evil Queen after her. They are willing to risk their home and their lives to protect someone who has found herself in a terrible situation through no fault of her own. Pretty amazing stuff if you think about it. They may have been short in stature, but they were giants at heart.
Now my question to you is: Who is/are your favorites, and why? And in case you also have a Snow White impairment, here they are, in no particular order:
Sleepy
Sneezy
Grumpy
Doc
Dopey
Bashful
Happy
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Just Let Me Finish This Chapter
I have always loved reading. When I started first grade at Saint Vincent de Paul Catholic School in Chicago, I was the best reader in my class. The principal came into our classroom a couple of days after school began and asked who had not been to kindergarten. Several kids, including me, had not. The next day all of the rest of them were gone. Reading had the power to let me stay in first grade! Of course, both of my sisters claim to have been the one who taught me to read. Who knows? What matters is that I can read and I love it.
Now that summertime is here, even though the calendar is still calling it Spring, I find myself hungry for books. When I was in school I was always reading, but during summer vacation I had time to read so much more! I would walk with my friends (or by myself) to the local library and peruse the shelves over and over, making sure I got the perfect books to read. It was a banquet of words, and I was feasting. I'd come home and decide which of my treasures to enjoy first.
What a lovely thing it was! It wasn't just about the books themselves, although nothing could compare to all of the different times and places I have traveled to through reading. It was the whole experience. One day, I might sit on the swing in the back yard and enjoy the shade and the scent of Gram's rose garden while I pushed the porch swing gently back and forth with my toes in the grass. The next day might find me sitting on a sofa in the cool basement, or sitting on the steps from the kitchen to the back-door landing. The daylight lasted longer, and so could the books. And Gram was pretty cool about me reading in bed past my bedtime. Seriously, how can you get mad at a kid for reading a good book? She'd tell me I needed to turn the light out, and I'd answer that I needed to finish that paragraph or page or chapter. And of course when I finished it, I would just keep on reading.
I would love to go outside right now and lie down in the cool grass and read a book. Unfortunately, this won't be happening because the doggies around here use it for their potty. Enough said. But I have a window seat, and I can put down a pillow or two, open up a window, and take a journey into the pages of a book. There's still plenty of daylight left. And later on, when Trent says that I should probably get some sleep, I will answer with "Just let me finish this chapter..."
Now that summertime is here, even though the calendar is still calling it Spring, I find myself hungry for books. When I was in school I was always reading, but during summer vacation I had time to read so much more! I would walk with my friends (or by myself) to the local library and peruse the shelves over and over, making sure I got the perfect books to read. It was a banquet of words, and I was feasting. I'd come home and decide which of my treasures to enjoy first.
What a lovely thing it was! It wasn't just about the books themselves, although nothing could compare to all of the different times and places I have traveled to through reading. It was the whole experience. One day, I might sit on the swing in the back yard and enjoy the shade and the scent of Gram's rose garden while I pushed the porch swing gently back and forth with my toes in the grass. The next day might find me sitting on a sofa in the cool basement, or sitting on the steps from the kitchen to the back-door landing. The daylight lasted longer, and so could the books. And Gram was pretty cool about me reading in bed past my bedtime. Seriously, how can you get mad at a kid for reading a good book? She'd tell me I needed to turn the light out, and I'd answer that I needed to finish that paragraph or page or chapter. And of course when I finished it, I would just keep on reading.
I would love to go outside right now and lie down in the cool grass and read a book. Unfortunately, this won't be happening because the doggies around here use it for their potty. Enough said. But I have a window seat, and I can put down a pillow or two, open up a window, and take a journey into the pages of a book. There's still plenty of daylight left. And later on, when Trent says that I should probably get some sleep, I will answer with "Just let me finish this chapter..."
Thursday, June 7, 2012
The Santa Conspiracy
I like to watch people in action, especially when they have no idea they are being observed. Let's face it, humans provide the greatest show on earth. Who needs the circus? Going to the supermarket or mall can give you little glimpses of the joys or dramas that go on in other people's lives. Does that make me voyeuristic? I don't think so. I believe it is a natural human curiosity that makes us perk up our ears to catch snippets of life flowing around us.
This was the case one day last December when Trent and I were shopping at a local Walmart. Walmart is not just a great place to save money. You see all sorts of people from all walks of life. In one trip, you can see people from all parts of the world, ranging from those who need to pinch pennies to those who are dripping with huge diamonds on their perfectly manicured fingers.
One of the things I really enjoy is seeing people who are shopping with their kids. The world has changed a lot. I don't remember ever asking for anything special to be put in the cart, and I sure never threw a tantrum. That is why my family allowed me to continue living. There are as many parenting styles as there are shoppers. Some kids are happy, friendly, and well-behaved. Their parents aren't being mean, they have just created the expectation of good behavior. And then there are the yellers. Sometimes I wonder if the yellers' kids are crying and fussing simply because they are stressed out. Their parents react to the little bumps in the parental road by freaking out, so the uncertainty makes the kids lose their little-bitty minds. Eventually mom or dad is going to lose it, so let's just get it over with.
So here we were, walking through Walmart, and it happened. A woman with two children under five had obviously been shopping quite a while. She was pretty frazzled, and her kids were getting antsy from a long shopping trip. And then the unforgivable happened. The mother started yelling quite loudly at her daughter, "If you don't cut this out right now, I'm gonna call Santa and tell him not to bother coming to our house this year!" Both Trent and I were upset by the situation. It wasn't just the yelling. It was The Santa Conspiracy. She made Santa the bad guy! Threatening a child with dire consequences rather than taking a moment to say, "Hey, honey, I know we are all tired, and Mommy is going to try to finish shopping right away so we can all go home and have a snack," she tried to make Santa do her parenting. I seriously wanted to walk up to the little girl and tell her Santa would still visit, but I wasn't wanting Mom to smack me!
I think one of the reasons it bothered me so much is because of something that happened to me years ago when I worked retail in a shop at Cherry Creek Shopping Center. (They didn't want to call it a mall, that would be simply too gauche.) A mother who didn't want to discipline her toddler shook her arm, pointed at me, and said, "If you don't behave, that lady is going to spank you!" Naturally the child started screaming and had to be taken out of the store by Daddy. And I was so mad I wanted to spank the Mommy!
So I guess what I am trying to say is please don't employ The Santa Conspiracy. What good does it do to make your kids afraid of Santa or The Easter Bunny or some woman working in a store? Childhood is scary enough without having to throw monsters into it. Or shatter a kid's holiday dreams.
This was the case one day last December when Trent and I were shopping at a local Walmart. Walmart is not just a great place to save money. You see all sorts of people from all walks of life. In one trip, you can see people from all parts of the world, ranging from those who need to pinch pennies to those who are dripping with huge diamonds on their perfectly manicured fingers.
One of the things I really enjoy is seeing people who are shopping with their kids. The world has changed a lot. I don't remember ever asking for anything special to be put in the cart, and I sure never threw a tantrum. That is why my family allowed me to continue living. There are as many parenting styles as there are shoppers. Some kids are happy, friendly, and well-behaved. Their parents aren't being mean, they have just created the expectation of good behavior. And then there are the yellers. Sometimes I wonder if the yellers' kids are crying and fussing simply because they are stressed out. Their parents react to the little bumps in the parental road by freaking out, so the uncertainty makes the kids lose their little-bitty minds. Eventually mom or dad is going to lose it, so let's just get it over with.
So here we were, walking through Walmart, and it happened. A woman with two children under five had obviously been shopping quite a while. She was pretty frazzled, and her kids were getting antsy from a long shopping trip. And then the unforgivable happened. The mother started yelling quite loudly at her daughter, "If you don't cut this out right now, I'm gonna call Santa and tell him not to bother coming to our house this year!" Both Trent and I were upset by the situation. It wasn't just the yelling. It was The Santa Conspiracy. She made Santa the bad guy! Threatening a child with dire consequences rather than taking a moment to say, "Hey, honey, I know we are all tired, and Mommy is going to try to finish shopping right away so we can all go home and have a snack," she tried to make Santa do her parenting. I seriously wanted to walk up to the little girl and tell her Santa would still visit, but I wasn't wanting Mom to smack me!
I think one of the reasons it bothered me so much is because of something that happened to me years ago when I worked retail in a shop at Cherry Creek Shopping Center. (They didn't want to call it a mall, that would be simply too gauche.) A mother who didn't want to discipline her toddler shook her arm, pointed at me, and said, "If you don't behave, that lady is going to spank you!" Naturally the child started screaming and had to be taken out of the store by Daddy. And I was so mad I wanted to spank the Mommy!
So I guess what I am trying to say is please don't employ The Santa Conspiracy. What good does it do to make your kids afraid of Santa or The Easter Bunny or some woman working in a store? Childhood is scary enough without having to throw monsters into it. Or shatter a kid's holiday dreams.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Some Things I Learned Today
Wow. I learned some things today. Naturally I want to share them with you.
Even if you screw them up, brownies will still taste really good. Trent asked if I would bake up some brownies from a mix and of course I said yes. Thinking that there is no such thing as overdoing it, I decided to improve on the mix. Trent wanted nuts, so I added some. I thought, wow, chocolate chips would be fabulosity in these bad boys, so I added those as well. The brownies baked and came out of the oven looking gorgeous. When they were cool and Trent was napping, I went into the kitchen to test the brownies. This is very self-sacrificing on my part, I think, to make sure that they are truly brownies and not poison. Well, those luscious chocolate chips made for a brownie crust filled with a delicious brownie sauce. Hideous, but delicious. And there's a lot of fun in feeling like you are being naughty by eating them with a fork or spoon directly out of the pan.
We have really good and true friends. A good and true friend will cheerfully pick you and your husband up at 6:15 in the morning and drive you across town for a post-surgery appointment with the docs. And bring something to keep her busy as the hours go by, and still be cheerful when it takes a few hours after you get there for everyone to be done with you. And then offer to do it again in two more days.
Miracles can, and do, happen every day. The day before Trent was released from the hospital, all of his post-transplant medications were ordered. Because of an oddity in the computer system, they ended up going to the mail-order pharmacy. We got enough of the most important medicine at the hospital to tide us over for a week or so. Well, on Monday I found out that one of the items coming from mail order would cost way more than we could afford. So I got on the phone and asked them to cancel the order for that medication, telling the very nice person I spoke with that we had a choice; get the meds or get groceries. She cancelled the order, and I was relieved. Until this morning, when I saw that the medicine was on the way. Zounds! Again, I was on the phone. The company checked into the situation, and here's where the miracle happened. The pharmacist who followed up on this said that it was their fault and we did not have to pay. Then she asked if Trent could use the medicine, which he can. She told me that she would have to throw it away if it came back, and told me that she would reverse the charge and we could keep the medicine! I was stunned, and happily so. I guess being honest does bring good karma sometimes! :)
It feels good to share good news. Enough said there, I think.
Even if you screw them up, brownies will still taste really good. Trent asked if I would bake up some brownies from a mix and of course I said yes. Thinking that there is no such thing as overdoing it, I decided to improve on the mix. Trent wanted nuts, so I added some. I thought, wow, chocolate chips would be fabulosity in these bad boys, so I added those as well. The brownies baked and came out of the oven looking gorgeous. When they were cool and Trent was napping, I went into the kitchen to test the brownies. This is very self-sacrificing on my part, I think, to make sure that they are truly brownies and not poison. Well, those luscious chocolate chips made for a brownie crust filled with a delicious brownie sauce. Hideous, but delicious. And there's a lot of fun in feeling like you are being naughty by eating them with a fork or spoon directly out of the pan.
We have really good and true friends. A good and true friend will cheerfully pick you and your husband up at 6:15 in the morning and drive you across town for a post-surgery appointment with the docs. And bring something to keep her busy as the hours go by, and still be cheerful when it takes a few hours after you get there for everyone to be done with you. And then offer to do it again in two more days.
Miracles can, and do, happen every day. The day before Trent was released from the hospital, all of his post-transplant medications were ordered. Because of an oddity in the computer system, they ended up going to the mail-order pharmacy. We got enough of the most important medicine at the hospital to tide us over for a week or so. Well, on Monday I found out that one of the items coming from mail order would cost way more than we could afford. So I got on the phone and asked them to cancel the order for that medication, telling the very nice person I spoke with that we had a choice; get the meds or get groceries. She cancelled the order, and I was relieved. Until this morning, when I saw that the medicine was on the way. Zounds! Again, I was on the phone. The company checked into the situation, and here's where the miracle happened. The pharmacist who followed up on this said that it was their fault and we did not have to pay. Then she asked if Trent could use the medicine, which he can. She told me that she would have to throw it away if it came back, and told me that she would reverse the charge and we could keep the medicine! I was stunned, and happily so. I guess being honest does bring good karma sometimes! :)
It feels good to share good news. Enough said there, I think.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
How I Became the Lunatic
Since I have begun this blog, I have been asked, "Why a lunatic?" So I thought I would take this time to tell you.
I have long been known as a person who has very strong opinions. When I was still in High School, for example, one of my Aunts came over to have dinner with Gram and me. Gram had made something that evening that I particularly loved. I can't tell you what was served that night, but I ate it with gusto. And had more. My Aunt chuckled and said, "That's something I really like about you. When you like something, you REALLY like it!"
My whole life, I have been this way. I don't mean that I absolutely love or absolutely hate everything. Having such strong convictions about every little detail of life would be exhausting! Although I have a very strong hate of canned spinach. Maybe some day I will enlighten you on that one. And a love of popcorn, sunflower seeds, paprika, and onions that borders on obsessive. From what I have learned from my Hungarian relatives, this seems to be a Hungarian trait. Okay, now I am worried that I have made a statement that is not politically correct. I do not think all Hungarians are wildly opinionated or even very strong in their opinions. I also consider myself an American of Hungarian descent. So hush up, you.
Trent can tell you that when we observe odd (or even normal) things, I might, like any other person, have something to say about it. And when it is something that just makes me shake my head in wonder or disbelief, I will say, "Here I go again, raving like a lunatic." One day, I said that maybe I should write a blog and call it Ravings of a Lunatic. Not an old-timey, foaming-at-the-mouth lunatic like Renfield in Bram Stoker's Dracula, but more like an unusual person who may one day have something profound to say. If that day should ever arrive, you, dear readers, will be able to say you read my stuff before I was famous. Bwaaah hahahaha! Sorry, I almost fell out of my chair again on that one.
Seriously, I have often thought that I couldn't possibly be the only one who feels certain ways about certain things. Sometimes reading another person's thoughts about various subjects can reflect your own opinion, or even give you a look at the other side of a subject. And that is how and why I became The Lunatic.
I have long been known as a person who has very strong opinions. When I was still in High School, for example, one of my Aunts came over to have dinner with Gram and me. Gram had made something that evening that I particularly loved. I can't tell you what was served that night, but I ate it with gusto. And had more. My Aunt chuckled and said, "That's something I really like about you. When you like something, you REALLY like it!"
My whole life, I have been this way. I don't mean that I absolutely love or absolutely hate everything. Having such strong convictions about every little detail of life would be exhausting! Although I have a very strong hate of canned spinach. Maybe some day I will enlighten you on that one. And a love of popcorn, sunflower seeds, paprika, and onions that borders on obsessive. From what I have learned from my Hungarian relatives, this seems to be a Hungarian trait. Okay, now I am worried that I have made a statement that is not politically correct. I do not think all Hungarians are wildly opinionated or even very strong in their opinions. I also consider myself an American of Hungarian descent. So hush up, you.
Trent can tell you that when we observe odd (or even normal) things, I might, like any other person, have something to say about it. And when it is something that just makes me shake my head in wonder or disbelief, I will say, "Here I go again, raving like a lunatic." One day, I said that maybe I should write a blog and call it Ravings of a Lunatic. Not an old-timey, foaming-at-the-mouth lunatic like Renfield in Bram Stoker's Dracula, but more like an unusual person who may one day have something profound to say. If that day should ever arrive, you, dear readers, will be able to say you read my stuff before I was famous. Bwaaah hahahaha! Sorry, I almost fell out of my chair again on that one.
Seriously, I have often thought that I couldn't possibly be the only one who feels certain ways about certain things. Sometimes reading another person's thoughts about various subjects can reflect your own opinion, or even give you a look at the other side of a subject. And that is how and why I became The Lunatic.
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Back in the Saddle Again
I haven't written much in the last week, and I imagine some of you thought I had forgotten about you. Not so!
It has been quite a week around here. Saturday night, May 26, Trent got a late-evening phone call alerting him that he was in line to get a kidney transplant. The surgeons just had to make sure the kidney was functioning, and whether or not it would go to the person above Trent on the list. Well, we got a call back on Sunday saying that the kidneys were unusable, so no surgery. We went about our business, and got a call late Monday night to say that there was another kidney available, and guess what? Trent checked into the hospital and received the gift of life on Wednesday morning, May 30.
Trent came home yesterday afternoon, and of course he is quite tired. The kidney is functioning very well. Paris is glad her Daddy is home, and last evening they fell asleep while he was petting her. She knows he has an owie so she hasn't tried to jump on him, but little Nurse Paris is ready to provide comfort through kisses and allowing Trent to rub her warm belly. Love is good medicine. We will be making frequent trips to the hospital to make sure the kidney is working and that all of his medicines are doing what they are supposed to, but now I will have more time and energy for writing and have gotten back in the saddle again.
On a more serious note, I want to acknowledge the incredible gift Trent has received. A grieving family who had just lost their loved one allowed him to live on through donating his organs to others. Several people and their families have had their lives improved because of this generous choice. Right now you may be thinking that I am about to ask you to become an organ donor. I am not. Trent and I have never been pushy about this subject. The decision to donate is very personal and I would never try to talk someone into it. But for anyone who does want to be a donor, there is something very important for you to know. The organ donor designation on your ID is not enough. You must let your loved ones know about your wishes. Even if you have agreed to donate, your family will be asked what they want to be done. If you haven't told them of your wishes to donate, they can override your donor status. So remember, anything this important is important enough to discuss with your family.
Well, Nurse Paris seems to have gone to the on-call room for a nap, so I should probably mosey along. It's good to be back. :)
It has been quite a week around here. Saturday night, May 26, Trent got a late-evening phone call alerting him that he was in line to get a kidney transplant. The surgeons just had to make sure the kidney was functioning, and whether or not it would go to the person above Trent on the list. Well, we got a call back on Sunday saying that the kidneys were unusable, so no surgery. We went about our business, and got a call late Monday night to say that there was another kidney available, and guess what? Trent checked into the hospital and received the gift of life on Wednesday morning, May 30.
Trent came home yesterday afternoon, and of course he is quite tired. The kidney is functioning very well. Paris is glad her Daddy is home, and last evening they fell asleep while he was petting her. She knows he has an owie so she hasn't tried to jump on him, but little Nurse Paris is ready to provide comfort through kisses and allowing Trent to rub her warm belly. Love is good medicine. We will be making frequent trips to the hospital to make sure the kidney is working and that all of his medicines are doing what they are supposed to, but now I will have more time and energy for writing and have gotten back in the saddle again.
On a more serious note, I want to acknowledge the incredible gift Trent has received. A grieving family who had just lost their loved one allowed him to live on through donating his organs to others. Several people and their families have had their lives improved because of this generous choice. Right now you may be thinking that I am about to ask you to become an organ donor. I am not. Trent and I have never been pushy about this subject. The decision to donate is very personal and I would never try to talk someone into it. But for anyone who does want to be a donor, there is something very important for you to know. The organ donor designation on your ID is not enough. You must let your loved ones know about your wishes. Even if you have agreed to donate, your family will be asked what they want to be done. If you haven't told them of your wishes to donate, they can override your donor status. So remember, anything this important is important enough to discuss with your family.
Well, Nurse Paris seems to have gone to the on-call room for a nap, so I should probably mosey along. It's good to be back. :)
Friday, June 1, 2012
I'll Be Back
Hello, my dear readers. I am just making a quick post to let you know I have not forgotten about you. A marvelous blessing came into our lives this week. Trent received a kidney transplant on Wednesday, May 30. Needless to say, I have been a bit tired and distracted, which doesn't necessarily lead to great writing. Trent should be able to come home in a couple of days. After he does, I am sure I will be able to find time to keep him comfortable and fed, and even write a little!
Please don't forget about The Lunatic, I haven't forgotten about you! In parting, I'd like to share a little story I read years and years ago on a birthday card.
Why Worry?
There's only two things to worry about. Either you're healthy, or you're sick. If you're healthy, there's nothing to worry about.
If you're sick, there's only two things to worry about. Either you get well, or you die. If you get well, there's nothing to worry about.
If you die, there's only two things to worry about. Either you go to Heaven or you go to Hell. If you go to Heaven, there's nothing to worry about.
If you go to Hell, you'll be so busy shaking hands with the rest of us, you won't have any time to worry!
Please don't forget about The Lunatic, I haven't forgotten about you! In parting, I'd like to share a little story I read years and years ago on a birthday card.
Why Worry?
There's only two things to worry about. Either you're healthy, or you're sick. If you're healthy, there's nothing to worry about.
If you're sick, there's only two things to worry about. Either you get well, or you die. If you get well, there's nothing to worry about.
If you die, there's only two things to worry about. Either you go to Heaven or you go to Hell. If you go to Heaven, there's nothing to worry about.
If you go to Hell, you'll be so busy shaking hands with the rest of us, you won't have any time to worry!
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