American Idol - Week Two

I am 3 for 4

What is this sass? I can’t believe it. Simon Cowell, may be a bit rough in his delivery, but he is nothing but honest in his critique of American Idol wanna be’s. And remember at this early stage of the game, 19 of them are just that, wanna be’s. Well no, that really isn’t fair or true. There are several who are total stars and will not be the American Idol 2007.

The past is a good example of this. Who the heck is Ruben Studdard, and what makes America think he’s an Idol? I mean really, “they” behind Idol boast big numbers for Ruben, but really his numbers are piddly. He hit two on the Billboard Hot 100 with Flying Without Wings in the wake of his victory and that was the best he did. And Sorry 2004, well damn he should be sorry. From that same season, which is two if you’re counting, Clay Aiken has listed in the Top Forty, Adult Contemporary, Hot Adult Contemporary Charts, and Mainstream, and while some think his popularity is waning, in truth that has yet to be seen. Then you have Kimberly Locke, her star is on the rise, each song she releases does better and is finding her landing consistently in the Adult Contemporary charts instead of the Urban or Dance Charts. Then there is Josh Gracin. Wow, what a country hottie. He is definitely the most successful of the season two finalist, including Clay and Ruben. Gracin has consistently has landed in the Hot Country Tracks top ten. From Season two Clay has sold the most, Josh has charted the best.

So what did I see last night? The boys were like hot and cold water. Beat Box Blake rocked on Virtual Insanity, the guy is definitely versatile. I wasn’t a fan of Sundance, but he made Mustang Sally ride. But then there was the hold cold side of the equation. It just didn’t’ seem like the guys learned. I mean what was Sanjaye thinking? So here is my break down and predictions for the guys…
♥ Absolutely loved Beat Box Blake
♦ Jared totally hit it with Let’s Get It On

Going this week
Sanjaye, there is no getting around it, dude sign up for American Idol camp
and I am stuck between Brandon Rogers and Nicholas Pedro (Brandon Dude what were you thinking?)


For the Girls, wow, LaKisha, Melinda, Sabrina, Stephanie, and Jordin have brought it two weeks in a row. I would vote LaKisha in right now, but Jordin touches my heart. I have to ask, Stephanie what in the hell was with that song, girl friend you are so much better. Huge improvement for Gina. So here is my breakdown…
♥ Absolutely loved Melinda
♦ LaKisah can probably do any type of song she wants

Going this week:
Alaina - honey give it up.
Antonella with Leslie and Haley vying for her slot to leave.

American Idol week one

I never watched season one of American Idol. I have no clue what was on, it doesn’t matter I’m sure it’s not on TV now, because well it is historical fact “What Calista likes, gets the ax.”

But I did pick up the show in season two and sat in silent shock when Josh Gracin was dumped in favor of Ruben (who?), Kimberly Locke was axed in favor of Ruben (who?), and Clay Aiken came in second to Ruben WHO? Oh, the inhumanity of it all, what a joke. Season three held the totally unmemorable, but totally rebounded in season four.

Season Five, well shit folks who in Season Five hasn’t gotten a recording contract? What it is eight now out of the twelve top finalists? As a DJ I watch the Adult Contemporary, Hot Adult Contemporary, and Hot Country Tracks Charts – so I have an idea of who did what, when, and where.

Season Six has come to the watch able portion of our programming. I love the competition. I love Simon Cowell, Randy Jackson is holding his own this year, and while I think you need two positives to replace a negative Paula Abdul just doesn’t cut it for me. She may the feminine factor to the show but she ads no knowledge or usable information.

With the first week of Season Six performances in the bag, we have been shown a definite demarcation line in talent. Night one, with three exceptions for me was lack luster. I know that Sundance was a favorite, but his butchering of Night’s In White Satin found me echoing my thoughts last week, “How did he make it?” I was embarrassed for Sanjay, and I missed about three of the early performance, or I just don’t remember them to comment. But I will say standout performances from Tuesday night include:
•Phil, who despite some pitch problems, really showed me his stuff.
•Chris Slight, who I just adore
•The Other Chris, who surprised me
♥And my final choice for Tuesday night kudos – Beat Box Brandon, the guy stole the show.

Wednesday night began spectacular and divided the wanna be’s with the true stars. Someone white will be going home tonight for certain.
•Stephanie opened the show wowing the universe
•Sabrina showed how it should be done – what a great selection
•Melinda can sing, but please someone help her dress and stand
•Jordin was awesome, this girl has a future – and you can’t go wrong with Tracy Chapman
♥I was a bit worried when the announced what Lakisha would perform, wow was I wrong the girl stole the entire show from a night of incredible and forgettable performances.

My picks for going home, tonight…
Girls: Amy Krebs and Alaina Alexander (although Leslie and Nicole were pretty bad)
Guys: Paul Kim and Rudy Cardenes (I didn’t see then all so, I’m shooting in the dark)

Thoughts?

Conversations OVERHEARD at Dinner

Ducky is delightful. Thursday night I arrived home to a refrain of Happy Birthday at the front door. There stood Ducky with a sinfully decadent truffle chocolate cake in hand, lit by a lone tea light, singing me into the house. He is so wonderful. Because of his 80-mile commute, Ducky normally stays in town on Thursday nights, but in honor of my birthday he came home and feted me pizza and cake. Could a girl be more blessed? I don’t think so.

Last night, to make up for the pizza (which was scrumptious – I’m a connoisseur of fine pepperoni pizza) Ducky took me out to dinner at the Adobe in Yachats. Since Thursday I’d been contemplating a cup of their to die for French Onion soup and wonderful North Pacific Salad. Of course when we get there, confronted by their menu I am suddenly in fits of confusion and indecision as to what to order (except the soup – folks that is a given, others may order clam chowder, but for me it is French Onion, end of story.) Filet and skewered prawns, prime rib, north Pacific salad – oh, the temptations – I was fine until the prime rib arrived at the table next to us. Ducky thought for certain I was a goner for the prime rib and about die from whiplash when I ordered the salad not two minutes later. Folk for me that is a fast landmark decision.

On a scale of one to ten the service was a five, edging towards six and yet I still tipped twenty percent. Er, Ducky tipped twenty percent. But the dinner conversations around us were pure elevens. Ducky and I chat in polite hushed tones; I even tone down my hideous cackle of a laugh when in polite public. We can converse entire evenings at home or in non-polite company with loud and rowdy voices, but in public we are quite civil. The other important fact to note here, is Ducky has worked around pneumatic tools for more than seventeen years; I have been a DJ for the same, we both lack good hearing skills because of our jobs.

Prime rib dad and fish n’ chips daughter, approximate age 6, (daughter not dad, although you will note that will be in question momentarily) were having a nice family meal, when non-descript mom, previously unheard from, piped into the conversation with, “She looks like me, I think.” This is the second comment from the table that truly caught my attention, prime rib having been the first.

I’m thinking, What, you’ve been her mother for six years now, and it’s only come to your attention now? Really, in most families this is a bone of contention from a child’s birth. I want you to note that between the time we ordered and were served Prime rib dad and family were served, ate, tipped, and left.

Before their quiet deportation, I noted that the family was from our hometown. He, a salesman, would now be on the road to parts beyond that would require him to be gone over nights on occasion, I didn’t discern what company he worked for, I didn’t know we had companies of that breadth here. And this one final tidbit that still has me cracking up, Prime rib dad, “I like knowing I am your protector. (Imagine puffing chest here) I heard you say my name in your sleep. I like being your hero.” Silence followed from the rest of the table. I mean really what do you say to that?

“Honey, your insecurity is showing.” “Quick, run he’s going to don those darn tights and cape again.” (Served with an understanding pat on the hand) “Babe, of course you’re her hero, she’s six.”

Shortly before being served, a full 40 plus minutes after ordering, the second couple sat at the table next to us. I wrongly believed they were one of those 40 to 50 something couples that were dating. Oh they were 40 to 50ish, but they were far from dating. First she deemed they both sit on the same side of the table for the view. Okay, it was 8 o’clock on a February night, pitch black to say the least, and the whole view boils down to seagull encrusted, wet grass against a backwash of dark ocean. Oh, and the mesmerizing search light of a lone crab boat. So I wrongfully assumed sitting on the same side of the table meant the same thing as sitting in the middle of the car seat when dating. Wrong. I guess she really did want the view.

Picking up the menu they began the debate over what to have. Apparently the menu in their room included Tapi, which the regular menu does not. Bummer, I can understand their frustration, Tapi is good, but so is the Swordfish, (and the only Halibut on the menu has a crappy béarnaise sauce on it - who wants to ruin a good Halibut?) which he soon discovered on the menu with much animated delight. That is until she discovered the filet with skewered prawns.

His previous animation was nothing in comparison. In a dramatic voice that equaled a theatrical stage presentation he asked, “Oh, where?” I mean ANIMATED THEATRICAL production. I began to wonder how far he would go to impress her for a second date?

I soon came to realize (as did probably the rest of the diners in our section) that they’d actually been together for eight years, were planning a trip to Hawaii soon, that included staying in a condo with extra room. “Maybe they should invite a second couple?”

Now, I know my husband his first thought at this comment was, Hmmm, I know what he wants. Hey, Ducky has his priorities, and all thought revolves around sex, this gives tv and movie watching an interesting monologue – but I digress. I also came to realize that she was TOTALLY in charge of all the couple’s finances.

He wants to go to Mexico, she says, “But, honey we can’t afford that, we’re already going to Hawaii.”

He says, “Oh we can do it, we’ll just budget it in.”

She says she wants to buy faded clothes so they fit right in with the locals (Hawaii – because you know he won’t get his trip to Mexico) and not stand out like tourist. He wants to wear his regular, comfortable clothes and doesn’t need faded clothes to be comfortable.

He wants to put something on the credit card (it was this part of the conversation that made me realize they were well established as a co-habitating, co-financing couple) because (and I didn’t catch what it was) cost more than $100. She doesn’t want him to use the credit card, because it cost sooo much to charge and she pays it off every month.

“Those $35 finance charges kill us.” I’m thinking, Girlfriend, walk away from Capitol One.

But, HE really wants it. And he pays for everything with cash that is under $100. “Pluuuuueeeease.” WTF?

“Did you really mean I can’t go golfing tomorrow morning? I really want to golf tomorrow morning.”

“No, we can’t afford it. It’s $100 for green fees.” (I guess this is what he wanted to put on the card. So I’m thinking he really wants to go to Sandpines or Salishan, and boy, this morning was perfect for golf.)

“But I really want to go golfing. And I got a bonus I can use to pay for it.”

“Well, if you go golfing, do I get jewelry?”

In my family this is called a Sandy moment (the name of Ducky’s exwife) Ducky says she’ll get the jewelry and he still won’t get to golf.

Sith

100 Things About Me, 2007

1) I’m not getting older, I’m getting better
2) Well, except for that weight thingie
3) Ducky says, “Yous not fat, Ewes fluffy.”
4) I sheepishly like that he says that.
5) Looking back, half a century seems like a little thing;
6) Looking forward, a half century more seems daunting, but science says it could happen
7) Why does all the energy seem to come in the first half of life,
8) When I have a ton of mountains to scale in the second half?
9) I still hate snakes
10) No I mean really, REALLY HATE snakes, they are the root of all evil
11) Oh wait, root of evil (and greed) = President Bush = snakes
12) I mean, we’re talking really evil, and arrogant
13) I’m never arrogant and I’m just occasionally evil
14) But not because I try, I think it just pops up.
15) My daughter says I have a wicked sense of humor
16) Which works well with my leave ‘Em laughing philosophy
17) Or at least leave them with a smile on their face and in their heart
18) The slut in me knows it was the girls laughing and the boys smiling.
19) I’m good.
20) I believe in reincarnation.
21) My life lesson was anger,
22) But I think I perfected the blow job while I was at it
23) I told you I am good (is that arrogant or self assured? I’m confused)
24) Just ask Ducky, and 48 ex-boy friends or husbands
25) Well no, you can only ask about 40 of the ex-boy friends and two ex husbands
26) There were those I was learning on (only one has the right to complain)
27) And then there was Scott; he doesn’t like BJs (excuse me, are you human?)
28) Yes, I remember all their names. And yeah, I know, a BJ does not a boyfriend make.
29) While I may not be proud of being fat, I am very content with my former slut status
30) I’m sure much to the horror of my siblings and parents?
31) Can you imagine the trial I was to my parents?
32) And having to have been a younger sibling couldn’t have been easy, Imagine trying to figure out what they meant by, “Why can’t you be more like your sister?”
33) At fifty one I am apparently irreverent
34) I am exuberant, I try to be pert
35) And I do revere God
36) But everything else is open for debate.
37) Why? Because if you disagree or don’t know, ask questions
38) If you disagree, debate to learn or teach
39) Be willing to change your stance and accept when I’m right, or yeah wrong
40) Hey it could happen.
41) Life is far too long to be sad
42) And far too short to not be happy
43) You should love your job, I do
44) If you don’t find a new one, the money can’t be that worth it
45) You should love your mate, I do
46) Don’t let the romance go dead in your relationship
47) Romance helps keep you young
48) Go on a date, give a card just because, I do
49) Not just because today is my birthday, but that helps
50) Celebrate everyday
51) Celebrate everyone you love and adore
52) Thank God.
53) All my best friends are religious in their way, but none are religious in the same way
54) I love diversity
55) All my best friends are Aquarians or born in May (now isn’t that weird?)
56) Oh, wait, except my mom, she was born in October
57) Hmmm, I will need to rethink this
58) Okay, all my best friends were born.
59) My dad and my grandfather are my two heroes, but Anwar Sedat and Martin Luther King, Jr run a close third.
60) They were totally different, and so very much alike (my father and grandfather.)
61) My mother amazes me,
62) My daughter impresses me,
63) My grandson is my absolute joy,
64) My husband is my other half and loves me for all my faults
65) He’s my Ducky, my confidant, my very best friend
66) He mixes dip and flavored chips
67) This just grosses me out
68) I like my meat rare, his must be well done
69) I like salad, squid, and mushrooms
70) He thinks chocolate, dip, crackers, cheese are the seven food groups.
71) My breast are still perky at 51
72) If Ducky had his way there would be a picture here to prove it
73) I just lost my three best readers – hey guys wait comeback.
74) I try very hard to mend my ways
75) Some people think I am wishy washy because I chose to find the positive
76) I believe it take two positives to replace one negative,
77) With some people it take just a boatload of positives.
78) I lack self-confidence at times.
79) I will always strive to tell you the truth.
80) I may have been a slut, but I am a truthful ex-slut. - Mary Magdalene was a slut and Jesus liked her - a lot
81) See there is hope for us all, this I truly believe.
82) Oh wait; there is that irreverent thingie again.
83) Phat!
84) One really bad thing about me, well besides hating snakes, I do talk about some people behind their back, which totally places on question numbers 19 & 23, while underscoring number 13.
85) I don’t hold grudges, I just have a very long memory
86) To prove this, I do not harbor ill will against either guy who raped me
87) I do still fear one of them
88) I thought I didn’t, but he was at my 20th class reunion, I had to leave
89) Wow, I thought I was past that; now I know better. I didn’t go to my 30th reunion.
90) I use to conduct Rape Awareness classes with the Oregon State Police
91) It was a great coping and recuperative tool for myself, I hope I helped others – talk about it.
92) I have a letter of accommodation (some where) from the Oregon State Police for service during the 1996 floods.
93) Pride made me want to frame it,
94) A flaw in my memory made me forget where I put it for safekeeping.
95) I wrote letters to my loved ones for when I die someday
96) I am going bald
97) So far it doesn’t bother me…too much.
98) For all my bravado I lack self confidence – thank you ex-hubby number two
99) My internet friends are just as important as my walking world friends, maybe more so.
100) I am blessed with an abundance of love to give, love to share, and never lack.
101) I love lollipops
102) Watch this space

Arlo The Tank

Four years ago I was mourning the loss of my beautiful Kya, a Rhodesian Ridgeback that had been my constant companion for thirteen years. During that time I knew I’d soon be seeking a new friend to fill the lonely times when Ducky was away. A friend to be lazy with, a friend to walk with, a friend to cuddle and share my popcorn with.

On April 10th 2004, my mom and I took the day off and drove the 200 miles to Ridgeway to pick up my new best friend. The breeder had named him Tank. The sort of name you might expect for a Mastiff, Bull Mastiff at that, but kind of a peculiar name for a Basset. Until you hear his story. Expected to litter on February 12th, the breeders weren’t too surprised a few night early to hear the bitch making a bit of a commotion from their family room. From the vicinity of couch interior they could hear a puppy crying. That’s right inside the couch. No that wasn’t Tank, how do I know that? Because Tank was firmly stuck in the birth canal and couldn’t come out by power of the bitch, the owner, or himself. 35 miles later the Vet unstuck him and Tank entered the world, followed by six more puppies. As you can guess he was huge from moment one.



But see, he’s so damn adorable. Oh well most of the time. He took almost four months to house-break. Ducky was almost to the breaking point. He only tried to chew up a few shoes, no bras, or furniture. But, beware the socks on your feet. To this day, three years later, he will snatch them right off your unsuspecting feet. He delights in sock snatching, which between him and the ones Ducky loses in his recliner, we are missing socks. One of his favorite things? To sit with his back to Ducky and have him rub his feet on his back. They were made for reach other.

Happy Birthday, Arlo!

Now when you stop to think that he is a normal healthy three year old Basset, I will let you in on a few…er…Basset/Arlo facts.

• Male Bassets tend to weigh 65 to 70 pounds. Arlo weighs 83
• All Basset Hounds KNOW they are lap dogs. Arlo is well aware of this fact.
• Bassets do not like baths. Arlo is no exception.
• Bassets are stinky dogs. I have a hard time smelling him, Ducky doesn’t.
• Hounds howl – I use to have blood hound that was the definition of this hound fact. Ducky had to teach Arlo to howl. I’m jealous of this little feat, Arlo won’t sing for me.
  Bassets are just big dogs on little legs.
• Arlo can reach almost anything on a counter you don’t want eaten.

Arlo loves ice cream on Friday nights. It maybe Saturday, but he will get ice cream.
Happy Birthday, Arlo.

Growth verses Teenage Mentality

I feel we all need to give back to not only Mother Earth as good stewards, but to our communities. Ducky is in total disagreement, which makes me wonder sometimes how we ever get along. But we do, maybe opposites do more than attract.

I am so off course.

Every other Monday evening I teach, err.. maybe that is the wrong word, advise, no that would mean they listen to instruction, okay I baby sit a bunch of teenage guys during an hour long radio program. The concept is sound. They come in 30 to 40 minutes prior to 7pm and put together their show, go on the air, and produce a 55-minute radio program. It is their show and adults beware. No topic is apparently taboo, despite station policy.

They delight in changing up their music, having no concept in genre, continuity, or well for that matter anything. So last night was a bumpy musical trip, to say the least, as we went from Hansen to Queen, to some head banging Christian group whose name has been seared from my gray matter, to Marvin Gaye and Matchbox 20 (which was totally hacked) while discussing the merits of text messaging as a form of upper intelligence communication. I would love to believe this means they are expanding their musical horizons, and knowledge, but I know better.

Much to my dismay during the whole pre Queen discussion, the ring leader choose to do what he assumes is Freddie Mercury’s persona. Why he felt it was accurate or right I’ve no idea. I was appalled. Male teenage mutants are in total disassociation with the rest of a world that does not revolve around football and high school. They’ve no idea that their preconceived notions could offend or hurt someone and are truly shocked when such a possibility is pointed out to them. Maybe I am too sensitive, but I don’t think so.

When he wasn’t doing a stereotypical Freddy Mercury impersonation, he was dissing on one of the groups mom’s for not letting her son on the internet or to My Space. He sees no recourse for his comments; my discussion surely did not phase him or make a difference in his future thought patterns. And while I believe he will grow up to be a nice, probably well mannered slop, I have to wonder how that transformation can possibly take place when I see the idiot he is at the moment.

As I grow older I look back with total shame at some things I’ve done in the past to one or two people. I’m a nice person, but there was a time when I was not. I’ve always been a crusader for the underdog. And yet I could find a person to verbally abuse. I had my “little lambs” under my wing, as my mother would say, but there would be someone I would pick on. You know someone who just didn’t quite fit in, just like me. Why, in the hell did I think that I could abuse another sweet person? Who the fuck am I? I use to get my ass kicked all over the play ground when I was a kid, people would taunt me, make fun of my name – Furby is a difficult last name to grow up with. And in my middle teens instead of sucking it in and making someone else’s life a better world because I could be a nice, loving, caring person, I was a total fucking bitch.

I’ve learned, I’ve never let go the harm I did to others. I know I have grown because of it, and I would like to get the opportunity to tell one specific person how incredibly sorry I am for my past behavior. I believe in reincarnation. We are all here for a reason, and I’m here – AGAIN - because I’ve have life lessons to fix. Okay, just one, anger, according to my numbers, but personally I think two. I needed to become a kinder, gentler being. And through that realization and discovery I know there is hope for the mutant teens out there who live in their own little galaxies. I just hope they find it before they damage the next Kip Kinkle.

Sith

Dream Soul

You Are a Dreaming Soul

Your vivid emotions and imagination takes you away from this world So much so that you tend to live in your head most of the time You have great dreams and ambitions that could be the envy of all... But for you, following through with your dreams is a bit difficult You are charming, endearing, and people tend to love you. Forgiving and tolerant, you see the world through rose colored glasses. Underneath it all, you have a ton of passion that you hide from others. Always hopeful, you tend to expect positive outcomes in your life. Souls you are most compatible with: Newborn Soul, Prophet Soul, and Traveler Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Well, you know me, I had to go see what was up after finding the link posted at Lisa's every so tauntingly giving me come hither look that says, "Click me, Click me, you know you want to...just one little click." So like Alice falling down the rabbit's hole I clicked for all I was worth. And I came up with Dreamer Soul. I did it again, changing the answers and still I got a Dreamer Soul. hmmmmm. Was Alice this frustrated or did she just chew on the mushroom?

They say we don't see our selves like others do, I don't see my self this way at all. Well half way maybe. But I don't tend to wear rose coloured glasses. So come on you know you want to click the little link. So what are you?

Ask Me If I Need Help

My pet peeve is women (er people) who can’t do for themselves. You know the ones, the stereo typical female who cries at the drop of a hanky when something goes wrong that is totally fixable, a mere bump in the road of life, but they turn to tears and mush. Oh, they grate me to my very core. Yes, everyone has hers or his strengths, and of course the flipside are those darn weaknesses.

Fully equipped, I totally suffer the superwoman complex, the Baby Boomer woman who has a full time career and a full time household (okay truth, now that the girls are on their own a part time household.) I make dinner, keep a clean house, help with the outside chores, and still have time to write. I’m pretty independent, and I’m willing to try most anything that doesn’t involve snakes. I’ve been through two and a half husbands (Ducky is intending to hold on) so that independence has served me well. This trait of mine drives my Bestest Friend insane.

Earlier this week my mom, now into her 70s, called and asked if Ducky could come and take her hot-water heater to the dump. Not a problem, we packed it in the truck and hauled it to recycling yesterday afternoon. Just a few short years ago my folks would have done this themselves, but my dad now is in the advance stages of emphysema and while he still does A LOT for himself, this was something my dad and mom shouldn’t have even attempted. In retrospect last night I realized just how far my parents have come. They have limitations, they realize those limitations, and now can ask for help without shame. This struck me with a full frontal force blow that should have popped my shoes right off my feet. Not only that, they did it with laugher and happiness to see us (not that they shouldn’t I AM the joy of their lives, ahhh huh! You’re buying all this right?)

Back History….My parents come from polar opposite backgrounds. My mother was born with the tarnished silver spoon in her mouth (a fast fading fortune, it’s the other side of the family that has all the investments fortune, but that is another story.) My father was born in the back hills of West Virginia, one pair of socks, made it through the 10th grade (because that is all they offered) and became a self made man. They are both self-doers, both self starters, both self reliant, both strong willed, and they are both very intelligent. They are both my heroes.

They passed these wonderful traits on to me (along with a love of arguing) and I have used them well. In the past when two husband’s walked out, after the prerequisite tears of anguish, self flagellation for being unworthy, I came the realization that life and I must go on, and I did. Then came Ducky. When our house needed a new roof, Ducky and I looked at each other, talked with a brother in law, and said, “We can do this.” And we did. There is a spot in our front yard that never grows anything so we decided to put in flagstone, we talked with my dad about it, and we said, “We can do this.” And we did. When we decided the house needed new flooring we said, “We can do this.” And we did. Then we looked and saw that we needed a whole new room, and damn, why not a covered deck? We said (after the foundation and framing were done by someone else), "We can do this" and We did. Kind of Godly don’t cha think?

Epilog: Through these accomplishments came the realization that I am allergic to baby sun block, not tar paper. I am allergic to cement, ate the skin right off my fingertips (and please don’t notice the hump in my flag stone.) Note, pay someone else to sand the mud.

Someday I won’t be able to do these things. Heck, I may not want to do these things for myself. But I am stubborn and my daughters will make me wear the Sandra Bullock sign that reads, “Ask me if I need help.” I’m hoping before that comes to pass I will learn to accept help gracefully, learn to ask for help gracefully when I need it. It won’t be an easy admission and will be a weighty burden to bear when the appointed time arrives. I’ve being doing for myself since right after the earth cooled. I don’t’ want to be a burden, I don’t want to give up early in life (when is early and how do you recognize the right time?) Lord, please grant me the grace to recognize, in time, my limitations without being a bitch about it. I have time, (what about forty years, I figure I should being asking, hmmm around 90 or so.)

So tell me, what is your strength? What is your weakness?

Sith
Cele

I Dig Rock 'n Roll Music

I Dig Rock n’ Roll Music

When I was a kid, I was in Girl Scouts. Even when most kids were really embarrassed to be in scouting, I loved it. I proudly told people I was a scout for nine years. I still tell people I was a scout for nine years. Tonight that appreciation was underscored in an unusual way. I am the fire maker in our house; in fact, just yesterday Ducky said I build a much better fire than he does. My reply, “I learned in Girl Scouts.”

The fifth annual Winter Folk Festival offered two days of Americana, Celtic, and Folk music; two folk classics headlined festival’s concerts. I really wanted to go see the Highwaymen last night and really I should have bought tickets. As a festival underwriter the station received tickets to the concert and a pair for the Sunday concert fell to me; the group headlining the day’s music, The Brothers Four. Wow.

I have always loved folk music and I thought that love came from learning the songs in school. I, naively, believed everyone knew those songs, having learned them in grade school. But I think I was wrong. As we sat in the Florence Events Center excitement began growing inside me. At the opening cords of the first song, my heart started beating faster, and I turned to Ducky and questioned, ”Yellow Bird?”

The look on his face was classic, “You’re asking me?” Sure enough the Brothers Four opened the concert with their rendition of Yellow Bird. Now I’ll admit the reason I know all the words to the song is because we sang it in Junior High chorus as part of our competition repertoire, Ducky on the other hand gave me a look as I sang that loudly spoke, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Then the group blended in to Sloop John B. and Ducky was singing too. An awesome beginning to a concert that had most quietly sitting in their seats, applauding with gusto at the end of each song. Then they delved deeper in to the folk bag and drug out Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land, Pete Seegers’ Where Have All The Flowers Gone, If I Had A Hammer, and Arlo Gutherie’s City of New Orleans I was joyous. Singing low I realized, that except for the man seated behind me with the WONDERFUL voice, no one else was singing. I looked around watching silent lips, wondering how could this be? We learned these songs in school.

Afterwards, standing in the foyer waiting for them to come autograph my CD a lady asked to see my disk because she didn’t know if she wanted to buy it. She’d been to the concert the night before and was surprised she didn’t know many of the songs. Tonight she knew more, but she wasn’t sure the disk was for her. Heretic. Even without my glasses on I could tell the LP was full of great music. She bought a copy for herself. Now, I’m not an autograph hound and as the crowd to see them grew in size and clamor I decided to leave. I had the CD and that was the important part, along with that heady feeling you get after a great concert.

As we walked to the truck I asked Ducky what he thought, what his impressions were, and commented that I was happy he’d sung along on a few songs. His reply startled me as much as the lady’s comments in the foyer. He hadn’t known too many of the songs. With Ducky’s comment came my epiphany, I knew these songs and I had a love of these songs, a love of this music that brought tears to my eyes with the first cords of The Greenleaves Of Summer. I HAVE AN UNDYING LOVE OF FOLK MUSIC because of Girl Scouts. Folk music led to my love of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, The Mamas and the Papas, to Cat Stevens, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Loggins and Messina, and Bob Dylan. Thank God for Girl Scouts and all the lessons it taught me.

Okay, so I have to ask, if you love folk music too, do you love folk dancing? If you love folk music are you a head banger too? Because I really love Led Zepplin, David Bowie, Eric Clapton, and Clannad. Thank God I’m a DJ. And if you love music, do you know why? Does it speak to your heart? Is it the sound track of your life? Does each person you love come with a song attached?

You will be asked to put your pencils down in 10 minutes. The clock starts now.

I love my computer

I've been on the internet for about eight years now, which is pretty funny when you consider it took my boss about a year to drag me kicking and screaming to even use my computer at work.
Now you can't get me off of it. Rose sent me this cartoon in a forwarded, forwarded, forward (you know the ones) and it just so spoke of me that I had to share - because I know it speaks to you, too.

It doesn't bother me that all my friends are online. No it doesn't, not at all. My friends are caring and loving. My friends are talented and versed. My friends will offer up their arguements, share their laughter, and shed their tears over crimes, the sublime and the humorous. My friends are in Utah, Pennsylvania, Oregon, Colorado, California, Arizona, Montana, Minnesota, Kansas, England, Demark, Canada, and where you are.

With my friends I spread my wings. Learn things I'd have never known.

In cyberspace I am wize. And sometimes I am downright dumb. I have a sense of humor (despite what exhubby number two said.) In cyberspace I have a personality (now that number two is history that is true.) In cyberspace I can be me. I can wax poetic, even if I don't recognize iambic pentameter. In cyberspace I can laugh about my double zipcode, menopausal butt.

So who are you in cyberspace?

Honor His Legacy

I was raised in a diverse household. My dad complained loudly about Mexicans and had his token black friend, but never considered himself racist. It must have been Oscar (a great guy,) his token black friend and the fact he didn’t feud with our next door Mexican neighbors or the Cubans across the street that led him to this belief. I’ve no clue. He said he picked up his opinions in the army.

My mom, on the other hand, believes in equality and diversity. She taught us to question values and action, not skin colour or birthright. Which is pretty good when you consider my mother comes from a formerly aristocratic, upper crust family of lost wealth and position. She is the reason I believe, so strongly, in equality. My father is the basis as to why I stand firm on those beliefs.

So you can see, I saw first hand a battle of wills and beliefs right at home. My mother urged us to make friends of all based on themselves; my dad had a VERY loud cow when a black friend of mine asked me to the prom. We moved six months later to Oregon, I can honestly say it had nothing to do with David.

I remember the day Kennedy was shot, both of them. I remember the day Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was shot. I remember the day Anwar Sadat was shot. I have (to this day) no understanding of how someone could hate so much, they would kill for it, I now know it was fear, ignorant, hateful fear, but I still don’t understand it. These men who worked to make the world a better place, whether it was in just their own corner of the world or on a larger platform, paid for their beliefs, and today most of them are honored for their groundbreaking vision.

I know my position won't be accepted by most in a positive nature, but I have to ask, how would Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. view affirmative action? Isn’t it a principal that stands in direct opposition of everything this great visionary stood for? And what is so affirmative about that action? Doesn’t affirmative action promote racial discord? Doesn’t affirmative action promote a division of races? Doesn’t affirmative action promote segregation to an extent? True, not all programs that are promoted place black students in black only schools, but doesn’t it tell those students that they couldn’t have gotten there without affirmative action? What is so affirmative about that?

r. King said it so poignantly in his “I have a Dream” speech on that hot August afternoon in 1963,

“The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. They have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.”

We cannot walk alone. Wow. He noted that the black community was rising up, but that brothers all must link hands and as one walk to our free destiny together. Whites can not do that chained by hate. Blacks cannot do that chained by hate. Our destinies are entwined, and we can not move forward through the actions of hatred, fear, or segregation.

Honor diversity, all. God, thank you for the memory, vision, and wisdom of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Jesus Christ (the first non-violent revolutionary – to quote Stephen Stills,) and those who have gone before and after to unite a nation (their nations) as one, not divided by race, sex, or religion, but by the brotherhood of man.

Sith

It’s Just Too Big A Risk Factor

Ducky and I were driving down I-105 the other day and noticed that the Oregon Lottery was up to $131 million. Wow, that’s a lot of bird feed. Now you might have noticed, I didn’t say it was Megabucks nor did I say it was Powerball. Why? Because I don’t play the lottery, and really never have (really never have equates, rarely in Celespeak.) My mom buys tickets every week, I’m not really sure why. My dad never forgets to remind my mom to buy THE tickets, I think it’s just to have something to bug her about. Ducky buys tickets just a wee bit more often than I do.

As we were driving home from our kindly friend’s wake we had that great hypothetical question discussion, What Would You Do If You Won The Lottery? Of course it’s hypothetical, when was the last time YOU won the lottery? Okay, when was the last time you knew someone who won the lottery? Not close? When was the last time you heard of someone, you knew, who knew someone who’d won the lottery? See it can get unwieldy; playing six degrees of separation to Kevin Bacon would be easier. In our hypothetical Q&A session Ducky and I always conclude we wouldn’t buy a bigger house. (Thank God we’re on the same page, because this could be a deal breaker.) Buying a new house is what everyone does when they win the lottery.

It comes down to this: there is Ducky, there is me, and there is Arlo. Two people and a Bassett that weighs more than an average teen, we don’t require a lot of space. The only time our little 1,044 square foot house feels small is at the holidays. And then it feels wonderful. I love having the family for Christmas. But that is only one day a year. If I’m lucky it’s a weekend and they stay overnight – well Psam and Ben do anyway if she doesn’t have to work. But for the rest of the year our house is perfection. So why would I want a bigger house? It is just more space to accumulate junk. There would be just more surface to grab dust. And there would be more corners to collect cobwebs. I mean really it is cleaning waiting to happen. I ask you, who would do that to themselves?

Plus, when you win the lottery suddenly “friends” and “long lost family” crawl out of the woodwork. My dad has a saying, “If you can’t come see me when I’m alive, don’t come see me when I’m dead.” (actually that’s my saying, too) My dad is talking about not having a funeral and being cremated, but doesn’t it pertain to winning the lottery? Sheesh, when was the last time the government did something for you besides licensing and taxation? And yet, they will be the first with their hand out, wanting their fair share.

The lottery is just to big a risk. A government backed pyramid scheme. Who needs the stress, excess family, and cleaning? See it just causes more cleaning to prepare for the family that is going to show up (uninvited) offering to help you with your tax audit by the government when they didn’t get a big enough share the first time around. It’s insanity I tell you, who thought this through?

Of course, you know, I could buy Arlo a new collar. Pay off the girl’s college loans, and replace the heater in Ducky’s car, and pay someone to clean my flowerbeds once a year.

So what about you? Bigger house?

If I am the moon, am I a verified Lunatic?

I got this from Lisa, who got it from Sid, who.... I love blogs.

You are The Moon

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.

And Along Came Blogging

And Then Came of Blogging

Over the years on the net (ooh all eight of them Cele) I’ve been involved with three writing groups. And over those eight years I’ve resisted joining others. Why? Because being involved in one writing group, and a weekly workshop is enough for me.

My daughter, a poet of quality work in my esteem, introduced me to Red Rose’s Workshop back in the days of Live Universe. I loved the group from the first night. It challenged me, got me back into writing, and lead me to a fulfilling hobby of continuity critiquing for some incredible authors. Then Live Universe, folded. Drats! I built my website for the group and we moved to our current location. The main core has never changed, but people have come and gone and more are welcomed. Through the workshop I joined Writerspad. When two of my friends left to build their own group they invited me along as a moderator. I’ve been happy with The Write List (TWL) now since gosh, 2000 or so.

And then came blogging. Wow, what a concept, the promotional and networking dream of a tool for writers and readers. Writers have the opportunity to hone their skill, draw in potential readers, and build a community. Readers have the opportunity to test drive new authors.

Remember that comment about one workshop and one writing group being enough for me? Oh my friend that does not hold true for blogs. I am a blogging slut of the highest degree. I will blog anywhere I find fit. With anyone who turns my head with their enticing words, come-ons, and contests. Hi, my name is Cele and I’m a blog-a-holic. (nods to Lisa in the corner, good donuts girlfriend.)

An ongoing discussion on the merits of blogging at TWL recently included the following statement by a publisher of all people.

"Blogs about writing are great, but they won't sell books."

I won’t name names, she’s a delightful and successful woman with her own publishing company. But I feel she is operating under a false impression. Or, as strong as I feel about this, maybe I’m operating under a false impression. I feel blogs by writers, and blogs about writing, sell books. Why? Sheesh, well because I buy a lot of books based on what I read and who I read at blogs. Aren’t I the model that all sales calculations are based on? Me, Jane Doh! American consumer.

So my questions today (for the whole 4 people who read my blog) for either reader or writer are theses:
1) How many blogs do you read and why?
2) What attracts you to specific blogs and keeps you coming back?
And 3) Would you or do you buy books because of blogs you frequent? Hmmm, maybe that is three and two half questions. I’m a product of new math so it’s hard to tell.

© 7 January 2007 Calista Cates

gods of Tomorrow

gods of Tomorrow

I am Queen Procrastinator. No way you say! It can’t be! Well I am here to tell you all it is true with a capital QP.

For me there is always tomorrow. And tomorrow does not always bode well when I’ve put off doing something at work. Now I’ve been lucky, providence has helped me out of a bind several times when tomorrow turned into today. But how often can you tempt the gods of Tomorrow? I’m not about to flaunt my procrastination, tempt fate, or failure so I’ve learn to make myself DO IT NOW.

I’ve long learned to admit my procrastinating ways, to let others know. Hey, this is me procrastinating Cele, what do you mean you want it tomorrow? Do you really know when tomorrow will arrive? I do, so don’t stop me, because I’m doing it now. That’s right, now. I’ve long learned that the best way for me to get around my procrastinating ways, is to address the problem now. And it seems to work.

Except when it comes to writing…er and taking down the Christmas Tree I have long learned to not put off jotting down that thought for a poem. And yet for all that knowing I still put off jotting down that kewl little line that comes to mind. You know, the one that the entire poem will hang on and shows up just when I’m falling asleep. I mean shit, how hard is it to get up for a nano second, run to the computer, and type in to my edit file a line? And yet friends and neighbors, I will procrastinate and say manãna.

No longer. My poem for the week is done. Remember this week’s topic is Beginnings I spent three days pawing and fawning over my 24 lines, and I’m happy with the result. My rhythmic voice seemed to show up. Thank you Lord, it’d been on hiatus for a while now. I’ve now blogged twice for the week, some kind of record I’m sure. Procrastination cured, hardly. It’s just on hiatus.

I am a realist you know.

Happy 2007

Happy 2007

I’m not one for making New Years’ Resolutions. Why? Because I’ve always (like most Americans) failed miserably at even the teeniest of self set goal. But this year I thought to set two for myself, well a third one is whispered in the deepest, most unreachable depth of my soul and is known only to me. The other two mentioned are public.

First, I want to write more poetry; 2006 was abysmal for me. I have years where I have written at least a poem a week. In 2006 I was lucky if I wrote one poem month. How could I possibly consider myself a poet on that sort of diet? Oh yes, I’ve lots, truckloads, and tons of excuses, but they are now in the past. And towards the end of the year I began blogging more. That is a positive, but I need more self–action. This week’s Writer’s Workshop topic is Beginnings, kind of apropos don’t cha think? Well okay, I set the topic each week myself so that I shouldn’t play on such a coincidence. But it is the start of a new year, a new attitude.

Second, I’m going to blog more. So I thought I’d start with January 1st, okay I meant it to be the morning, not evening of the first day of a new year, but well at least I hit the first 24 hours. See excuses already and new parameters already. I don’t plan on blogging daily, but more often. I plan on being inspired by the world and bloggers around me. Whether it’s a MeMe, or world altering events I want to blog, and get a poem in.

Speaking of MeMe’s I read a really good one already today. From Joshilyn Jackson over at Faster Than Kudzu, here’s the Booky Goodness MeMe…

DIRECTIONS
1. Take five books off your bookshelf.
2. Book #1 -- first sentence
3. Book #2 -- last sentence on page fifty
4. Book #3 -- second sentence on page one hundred
5. Book #4 -- next to the last sentence on page one hundred fifty
6. Book #5 -- final sentence of the book
7. Make the five sentences into a paragraph:

Here is mine:

I was six years old the first time I had an inkling God would not always protect me. “Do you see her in the Sala showing her legs and listening to the radio?” I was torn between an ugly urge to throw them all out and glee at the idea of new clients.

“I guess we better go on in and say hey,” I said. And anguished after all that had been left undone.

My five books were…
1) Wives and Sisters – Natalie Collins (she writes a killer first sentence.)
2) Thrilled to Death – Jennifer Apodaca
3) Middlesex – Jeffrey Eugenides
4) gods in Alabama – Joshilyn Jackson
5) Rumors of War – Peggy Tibbets (didn't you think Peggy and Joss went together well?)

So join in if you dare, it wasn’t as easy as it looks (I’d originally picked Jane Austen, then another, then another looking for a second line – wow, now I’m cheating in blogdom.) So watch out for me in outer blogness, because you all know I’m a joyful blog slut.

Sith

Dining On Humble Duck

I think it was in late November I challenged Bishop Rick to a friendly wager. Loser in the Las Vegas Bowl blogs for the other. I had started writing before the bowl, ripped up, deleted, erased, all in abject frustration to capture the right words and succintley place them on paper. Then the game played it self out and my blog wrote itself. I won't call either inspired.

I’m not sure which was more excruciating; watching the Ducks embarrass them selves in the Las Vegas Bowl, or wrapping Christmas presents the whole time. Both sucked, of course not as big as my Ducks did. The hot slogan of our times, “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.” But this was too monumental a lapse in sanity for it to remain unknown. Why? Because they aired the whole cursed, gridiron fiasco on national TV. Much to the delight of BYU fans everywhere and Bob Stoops who to this very moment is still jumping up and down yelling at the screen, “See. See. See.”

BYU’s Cougars looked great and played a great game against the scrimmage team that showed up at Sam Boyd Stadium. BYU was sharp, decisive, executing almost every play like the fine honed college athletes that they are, a testament to the quality of Mountain West Conference football. Ah, but the Cougs also had a hidden ace up their collective sleeves. A secret threat unleashed covertly upon an unsuspecting Oregon squad (long before either team hit Las Vegas.) Offensive coach Gary Crowton. Yes, an insidious plot hatched to make Nick Allioti look better (that doesn’t’ take much) and yet, despite the assistance of Crowton’s ineptitude, Allioti (and the Ducks) are still defenseless.

Mon Dieu, Cele. Boo hoo. I know you are thinking, “Cele’s a fair-weather fan.” Honey, there is no such thing as fair weather in Oregon. Just rain and wind, therefore I’m in it for the long haul. I love my Ducks, and of course, there is always next year. Mike Bellotti says he’ll be back (and despite his inability this year to pick the correct quarterback) I still like this guy. Mike, please look at your freshman quarterback and see the future of Duck Football. Its name is Nick Costa. Coach, demote Leaf and Dixon to backups, give Costa the ball and stand back.

And while I’m at it, what on God’s Green Earth were you guys thinking? Those helmets have got to go. Bring back the Mallard Green O’s (well of course they have to now, the piss yellow ones are jinxed, and we all know how superstitious athletes are.) In fact Oregon, get off the fashion wagon and play some football, who cares that you have 48 uniform combinations, you only play 12 games a season, 13 if you are (un)lucky. That means 35 of those combinations are redundant. Think of the tuitions that could be paid with the money saved on redundant uniforms, and those ugly pee yellow helmets. And the training time the team will recoup when not having to decide with uniform combination to wear. It boggles the logical mind.

To the Cougars, I wish you the best and give you kudos for a game well played. You gave your seniors (or they gave you) the final victory of their college careers. A great winning season full of happy memories to keep you warm during the long Wasatch winter.

But, next year could you please beat up on Notre Dame? And while you’re at it, cut your teeth on some Sooners. Bob Stoopes is fun to watch when he’s whining.

Now Bishop Rick is the winner of our little wager, so really the blog is his to call.

Cele

ABC's of MeMe

ABC’s of MeMe

A- Available or single? Heee, hee are you looking?
B- Best Friend? Ducky, my husband
C- Cake or Pie? Hmmmm, Banoffe pie (okay I’ve only had it once, but it was decadant)
D- Drink of Choice? Coffee
E- Essential Item? Mascara
F- Favorite Color? Green first, cinnamon second (today)
G- Gummi Bears or Worms? Worms, Benjamin shares them with me
H- Hometown? Florence, Oregon (well I was raised in LaMirada CA)
I- Indulgence? General Hospital (I’m a junkie)
J- January or February? February, left over sweethearts
K- Kids and names? 1 and 2 halves – Krista, 30, Jenny 32, Missy 26
L- Life is incomplete without? Laughter and love
M- Marriage Date? July 23rd (you do mean the most recent, right?)
N- Number of Siblings? 3, 1 sister, two brothers
O- Oranges or apples? pears
P- Phobias/Fears? Snakes – and there’s nothing unreasonable about it.
Q- Favorite Quote? “Snakes, it had to be snakes.” Harrison Ford in Indiana Jones
R- Reason to Smile? My grandson - Benjamin
S- Season? Spring – need you ask?
T- Tag three people! You, you, and you over there
U- Unknown Fact About Me? I tried out for the roller derby when I was 16
V- Vegetable you hate? Beets, I always thought that is what your parents gave you when they were mad.
W- Worst habit? Procrastination
X- X-Rays you've had? Denta scan, kind of kewl, but expensive.
Y- Your favorite food? Ice Cream – BJ’s Cappaccino Fudge…or a rare, BBQ’d steak
Z- Zodiac? Aquarius

Friends are gifts you give yourself

Friends are gifts you give yourself

Merry Christmas! The adage is old, but the content forever
up to date and constantly being up dated, Friends are gifts
you give yourself. I learned a rhyme as a Brownie all the way
back in second grade.

Make new friends,
but keep the old.
One is silver
and the other's old.

It's as simple as that. In this season of giving I want to say thank
you to my friends. The old ones who are gold, the shiny new ones
who are my silver, and the ones I will make in 2007. You are my
constant companions. My inspiration. My conscience. The
humorous gifts I receive every morning.

Rose, Natalie, and Peggy. The friends who will be with me long into
my old age. You are my countless blessings each and everyday.
Thank you for the yesterday's we've shared, the today's in which we
laugh and cry, and the tomorrow's that will be countless wonders.

Jake, Jen, Joss, and Mir you are such delightful surprises.

My gold and my silver. Provocative. Invaluable. Constant. Sinfully delicious.

To my new friends. Rick, Mary Lisa, Jazzy, and Sideon I look forward to
many mornings of coffee and blogs.

Merry Christmas!
Sith
Cele

Afterglow - It's more than a moment

Last night Siuslaw went undefeated in football. I’m not sure the last time that happened, I’m not sure it will ever happen again. What I am sure is that it couldn’t have happened to a nicer coach and team. A graduate of Siuslaw, just like I am, the coach has pride. Pride in his school, pride in his team. Pride in the parents and fans that help make it all happen, who stick by his team week after week, season after season. Each week after every game, the team gathers with fans and family in the middle of the field to sing the Alma Mater and share the afterglow.

Last night after the broadcast was over, the team, family, and fans shared their moment in the midst of a windy rain soaked field and shared. At which point I was watching Air Force drive Army into the ground more than a thousand miles away. Despite being opponents on the gird iron, following the game, both schools – players, family, and fans honored tradition and stood behind the other as their Alma Maters were sung. Gird Iron warriors united in something larger than themselves when the game is done. Even now the thought brings a tear to my eye, or maybe several to both.

Following the triumphs and losses of our youth, we met mid field and acknowledged each other: our worthy opponents, fellow lovers of the game, our friends and our rivals. Our Pee Wee, Pop Warner, Little League coaches taught us sportsmanship and respect. Our coaches in junior high, high school, and college continued the lesson. What happens after that has become a national disgrace.

Following most college games, and many pro football games you’ll see opposing players gather mid field in a circle and pray. They often shake hands, pat the backs of their rivals, and shake off the combat of the battle. Following each Oregon Football game, the Ducks thank their fans, especially those fans, which travel to see their beloved Ducks on the road. They shake hands, discuss the game, and say thank you, and even sign autographs. They remember their sportsmanship. I’m not saying my Ducks don’t do wrong, of course they do. But they don’t do it as a standard conduct, they are gentlemen, and being less is not tolerated. I am proud of them as people, individuals, and as a team.

But what has happened in the pros? Yes, following most games football players will meet and shake hands. But my other love is baseball. They don’t met on the field to shake hands like they did in little league. No, they meet on the field to congratulate each other, their own teammates. How utterly disgusting and ridiculous. It doesn’t even rank above my other disgust in pro sports, and that is celebrating in the end zone. Get real folks. These are professional athletes getting paid thousands, tens of thousands each game and they have thrown sportsmanship out the window. Meet mid field to unite in something bigger than them? You’d think it be possible, they have no problem clearing the benches and meeting mid field, mid game after some imagined or not offense, fist and words flying. These are grown men, paid exorbitant pay checks and sportsmanship has nothing to do with it.

We need to hold professional athletes to a higher standard, not just for our kids sakes, but for our own. We need to walk the walk, talk the talk, not just give the concept lip service to our children. Why is it so easy to tell them to play fair? To be sportsmanlike? To honor the integrity of the game? And then not hold our professional athletes to the same standard? Why is this double standard so easy for us to swallow, over look, embrace? Because yes, many do embraces it. Next time you’re watching baseball with your spouse or significant other and the pitcher from his team retaliates by hitting a batter, ask your beloved if they approved? I know what my husband’s answer will be.

© Cele