A Soldier's Heart

http://wcco.com/local/Woman.Receives.Heart.2.1222173.html

I think it would be a fitting tribute to this brave and thoughtful young man, that if everyone who hears his story would give strong consideration to becoming an organ donor. It is a gift that saves lives. One donor can help dozens of people. If you decide donation is the right choice for you, talk about it with your family. Make sure that the people who would make end-of-life decisions for you know that you want to be a donor. There are many places that have free advice and donor consent forms that you can fill out (http://www.organdonor.gov/donor/index.htm). The Nicholas Effect changed attitudes toward organ donation in Italy. It would be wonderful if Corporal Ben Kopp could do the same thing here.

Mums the Word or Too Too Texas

This needs explanation. Just got back from making a Homecoming mum with my adopted niece.

Okay, for anyone who's not from around here, mums are so freaking Texas. I don't know anywhere else that they do these things. Certainly not at my high school. Basically you take a silk mum and jazz it up with all these ribbons and doodads to show spirit for Homecoming. You can buy it or make it yourself. It can be a couples thing, or parents can buy them for their kids. Girls wear theirs on a ribbon around their necks, and guys to a garter on their arms. A small friendship mum is about $45. And they can run over $100 depending on how much flair you add to it: special ribbons, feather boas, teddy bears, bells and whistles (literally) and all sorts of little charms and tokens. I saw some examples at the store that had 3 flowers and were the size of a dinner plate. As C says, "tasteful has nothing to do with it."

C's mom is really not a joiner type. And even if they'd had these things in my high school, I wouldn't have been the type to go in for it. But she really enjoys the whole high school thing, and actually participates in the events (what a concept). And I kind of decided that if she didn't have one, it would be like nobody loved her. I mean. it's a big, big deal here. So when I found out that I just had enough time to get in on the action, I ran out and bought some supplies and we spent a couple of hours putting one together.

Thank TPTB that I talked to one of the moms at the craft store and found out that since she's a senior, there was a tradition to be followed. Underclassmen wear school colors. But since she's a senior, she's earned the right to wear an all white and silver mum. Could have been a major faux pas. I was told that there could be a tiny trace of her school colors, so we used a tiny stuffed animal horse head in the middle of the silk mum, and put tiny red and blue ribbons at its ears. [Did I mention that taste is NOT an issue here?] And we added some tiny jingle bells so that she could make some noise.

We had fun putting it together. And I think she'll enjoy wearing it tomorrow. Like I told her, it may not be the biggest or the prettiest, but we definitely got out there and participated. That's the nice thing about having nieces and nephews. It's never too late to enjoy high school.

Make Old Friends

There’s this thing about what hip cities are attracting people in their 20s on Yahoo! Great. Tell me where that is. So I can avoid them.

And not because I find people in their 20s low-level annoying (but can I get an “amen”?). I want to avoid those cities because they’d be contrary to one of my best beauty secrets. So, you look a little older. You’re sagging and bagging a bit. What’s cheaper than a face lift? Hang out with people who are at least 10 years older than you are. The older, the better.

It’s something I discovered with my Theatre Three subscription. When I went on Saturday afternoons, the median age of the crowd was somewhere around 68 (I’m guessing). That's median. The average had to be around 73. Honey, I looked like a spring chickadee. I was Hannah Montana in that crowd. Not only was I noticeably dewier than my fellow theatergoers, I could scuttle up those stairs like a mountain goat. And I could keep awake for a full 45 minutes in the dark. Check me out.

And it actually makes that whole younger woman older man thing make much more sense. Marry a wrinkly old dude, and you have someone who makes you look younger by contrast contractually obligated to hang around you. Think Catherine Zeta Jones. By Hollywood standards, she’s really long in the tooth. But standing next to that apple-head doll she married, she’s a gold-digging, young hussy.

So, why would I move to a town where I’m the one making other people look fresher and younger? Personally, I’m thinking of moving to Boca Raton. Cougar? Patooie. In Boca I’d be a sex kitten.

Well, I'm sure you tried your hardest

http://www.cnn.com/2009/SHOWBIZ/TV/09/30/spencer.heidi.marriage/index.html

So, evidently Spencer Pratt has said that he and his wife Heidi Montag are "barely having sex" cause he's afraid she'll get pregnant.

First, we're all afraid of that too, Spencer. Good call on your part. Please don't breed.

Second, I've seen this guy. I'd say it's good money that even when he's pulling out all the stops, he's just barely having sex.

Pardon me, do you mind if I . . .

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090929/ap_on_re_us/us_dorm_room_sex_2

Okay, that a major university has to actually create a rule that you can't have sex with your roommate in the room just shows the erosion of civility in the modern world. I mean really. It's just impolite. As we all learned in kindergarten: If there's not enough for everybody, don't bring it out.

RIP - Another good one gone to soon - Gone but not forgotten - yada yada yada

Prologue: It used to be that when I’d hear more than one song by a band or singer, I’d automatically assume that somebody died. The first time I remember it happening was Stevie Ray Vaughan. I was going through a whole classic rock phase. And even on the mighty KSLX a double-play of Stevie Ray was unusual. Then when it was a third song, it became “Hmmm. That’s odd.” Then the DJ with the sad, sad voice informing you that another one has died too soon. Michael Hutchence, Curt Cobain, Left Eye, Jerry Garcia. All of them I heard first on the radio, and it was preceded by a DJ throwing out the mini-music-marathon.

Of course, that’s now been replaced by the internet. Especially, Yahoo!’s “Most Searched” list. Especially if it’s somebody famous who doesn’t get much press attention any more. And it’s one thing if they’re really old or really sick. Ted Kennedy or Patrick Swayze pops up, and you kinda know. Awwwwww. But it’s something else when you see somebody like John Hughes pop up and you think “Oh, hey, great. Maybe he’s coming out of retirement. What’s John Hughes up to (click). . . oh.” Bummer. It happens more than a few times and you start to get a little gun shy.

So, that was a long way of getting around to:

The Point: I pull up the Yahoo! home page, and happen to glance at the “Most Searched” list, and there’s Jon Cryer. “Oh, what’s Jon Cryer up t. . . No! Duckie! DUCKIE!!!!” Breathe. He’s fine. He and his missus are adopting. No worries. But that was a really bad minute. Maybe Yahoo! should come up with a color coded early warning system. Green – everything’s A-OK. Black – dum dum dum-dum.

Perhaps it's time to revisit this issue, Dr. Spock

You know, I’m starting to wonder if some of the more outrageous behavior that we see today (most noticeable on “reality” tv) isn’t due to the disappearance of corporal punishment. Because a big chunk of the people exhibiting post-active spoiled brat behavior are my age or younger. And I grew up right at the border time when all the sudden spanking was bad. I look at my contemporaries, grown people, acting out on Bridezillas or Rock of Love and think, “Somebody needs their little bottom paddled.”

Because my parents didn’t go whole hog for the no-spanking idea. I got my butt spanked a few times as a kid. [Note: spanked, not beaten. Big difference there. Never in anger.] It was generally at a very young age, and before I could really understand an adult explaining why I was being punished. Spanking was mostly reserved for dangerous things like touching the stove, running into the street, maiming a sibling. But a real hissy-fit might also get a light smack, too. Just to get my attention. A swat on the tush was immediate negative reinforcement. No planning involved. No need to explain why I was being punished. It was the thing that just happened. And if I was smart it wouldn’t happen again, because Mom or Dad could head off future bad behavior with a simple question: “Do you want to get spanked?” Nooooo. It got to the point where I’d just feel a mild pain in my sitter if I even thought about acting up.

As I got older, my parents switched over to timeouts, groundings, working on the yard, docking pay, lectures and other more creative means of demonstrating the error of my ways. At a certain point, I’d have rather had the spanking. At least that’s over quick.

I know it sounds kinda brutal if you weren’t raised that way. But honestly, I don’t think I was warped for life because my parents occasionally applied the flat of their hands to the round of my derriere. In fact, I think I’m remarkably well behaved. I didn’t learn that violence solves problems. I’m a lover not a fighter.

But with every parent saying how strapped they are for time, I wonder who has 5 minutes to make a kid stay on the naughty seat. A couple of pops to the po-po takes only a few seconds, and then everybody goes about their business. I also wonder how many parents whose kids have ended up on VH1 haven’t looked back and thought how one good spanking might have been time well spent.