The Obamas

Barack Obama seems almost benign in demeanor, an attractive pedagogue rather than an enthusiatic leader. Of the two, Michelle seems the more fierce, battle ready with eyes blazing. One can almost picture her charging down the street, nostrils flaring, daring anyone to oppose her. Frankly, she scares me. Not a horrific kind of scare but knots of worry that grow in my stomach as I watch her on t.v. Is she the perfect foil to Barack's laconic 'now, now dear everything will be alright' posture? I'm wondering if there is a balance to their relationship, Barack laid back while the impassioned Michelle strides on stage and assumes control. I've always heard that we should make decisions based only on fact because emotions are in constant flux and therefore unreliable. May I present Mr. & Mrs. President. Has your comfort level been disturbed now?

(Don't blame me. I'm not voting for them).

My Daughter

I watched with delight and excitement as my daughter walked across the stage during the graduation ceremony and was 'hooded', then received her diploma from OCU. She is now J. D. K., Juris Doctorate. Someone had told her something to the effect, "J. you just love to argue. You should be a lawyer". That must have sounded like a reasonable suggestion because she acted on it. For three years she has juggled law school, a job, three kids and a house. She rarely if ever complained. (I'm not sure she had the breath to spare). She balanced her schedules, study, the kids schedules, and her job and (you won't believe this one, all the while remodeling her house!). She never missed birthdays, Christmas, Easter, and thank you notes and chats with mom and friends. I've teased her about wearing WonderWoman underwear beneath her clothing for she surely must in order to rack up these accomplishments. She says she doesn't even take vitamins. How has she accomplished all this you ask. I think it is from sheer grit and determination, great focus and an energy that could only come from within.......even after several well meaning friends and family suggested that it couldn't be done. I think we've all learned that J. can do whatever she sets her mind to and the standard warning is this: If you see her looking in your direction, you might want to move out of the way.

Ask me if I'm proud of my daughter. She has been the star in my sky from the first moment I saw her, and yes, heard her screaming in the hospital nursery. She has eclipsed everyone in both her dad's and her mother's families in looks, intelligence and education. I am in awe of her and all that she is. She is not only all that, she is the sweetest person I know. And God has blessed me by putting her in my life.

Games For When We're Older

1. Sag, you're It. 2. Hide and go pee. 3. 20 questions shouted into your good ear. 4. Kick the bucket 5. Red Rover, Red Rover, the nurse says Bend Over. 6 Musical recliners. 7. Simon says something incoherent 8. Pin the Toupee on the bald guy

Feeling Sarcastic

Today was my son's birthday. He's an attractive young man, divorced and available so for his birthday dinner he brings yet another slender sweet young thing to help his family celebrate this happy event. Here we go again. My daughter and I have the same thoughts; with telepathy we share them with a sideways glance. An impromptu play put on for Miss Mindelah and this is how it went:

I casually throw my arm around my daughter's shoulders as she munchs her way through her rosemary lemon chicken. Then I lay my head on her shoulders as my daughter placidly tears a piece of bread from a loaf and douses it in the plate of olive oil, balsamic vinegar and toasted garlic chips. All the while we're carrying on an innocuous conversation with Miss Mindelah about forgettable subjects. I now caress my daughter's arm as she looks at me fondly and smiles. You can see the discomfort on my son's face mirrored in the expression of barely concealed distaste flitting across Miss Mindelah' face. My daughter and I look at each other as I settle back in my chair and announce that we have something exciting to tell them. We are in love, very much in love with each other and are in a wonderful, vibrant relationship. Never mind that we're mother and daughter. We're both adults so it can't possibly be considered incest.
The look of abhorrence on Miss Mindelah's face as she began to choke on her alfredo coated 5 cheese ravioli was priceless. My daughter, the minx that she is, actually captured it on her cam corder.
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It would have been fun to act this out if we decided that we didn't like this most recent pearl on the strand of my son's dates. For two reasons it didn't happen. The kids were with us plus we still haven't decided if we like her. Until our next encounter......

Things That Annoy Me

These things really annoy me:

1. My perky breasts now resemble headlights on low beam.

2. My dog wiping his butt on my living room carpet (no more barefoot forays in the living room without socks).

3. Renting a bad movie and then realizing I've already seen it.

4. Flirting with a guy and he doesn't even notice.

5. Agreeing to meet a friend at the donut shop while I'm on a diet.

Tune in again. I'm sure there will be Part II, Things That Annoy Me

The Wrong Situations

These are situations in which I wouldn't want to be found while dead:


1. Sitting slouched on the toilet with my jeans and undies around my ankles.

2. With a finger, any finger, lodged up my nose.

3. In the grocery store candy aisle.

4. With my girdle pulled up to my knees.

5. Everyone knows this one: In my holey, torn underwear that has two ends to the broken elastic band tied into a knot.

There has to be more wrong situations but then would it really matter if I'm dead?

Embarrassing Myself

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not a fashion plate. When I was younger the clothes I wore and matching accessories, heels and purse were very important. Everything had to be coordinated and they were. Now, I've been known to meander downtown in one of my beloved muumuus. My daughter recently commented "Ya know mom, your style is "Don't Care". And she is right, because "I Don't Care (anymore)". I'm now all into comfort. Very important to be comfortable. I can walk past any mirror, glance toward it and see my image through {{{{{{{{{{{The Comfort Filter}}}}}}}}}}}. My teeth are brushed, run my fingers through my hair (I don't even know if I have a brush or comb), yep, my glasses are in place, clean muumuu on, there's my purse and I'm READY.

I had to order my muumuus over the internet. They don't sell them around here. A friend who moved to Hawaii last year actually sent me an 'authentic' Hawaiian muumuu. It was disappointing to see the K-Mart tag attached. Two years ago I ordered two of each color, a total of six of the little gems. It did briefly cause me a tiny concern that people might think I was sleeping in my muumuu and wearing it a second time. Then I ran it through {{{{{{{{{{{The Comfort Filter}}}}}}}}}}} and I made this comment to myself. "Don't Care".