BLOG-O-RAMA '" Take Four

My daughter and son-in-law read through hundreds of names before they both decided they loved the name they chose for their son. They had gone through the same process with their daughter.

I could have saved them hours and hours of painstaking labor had I known that all of it was for naught (I was hoping I would some day be able to use that term).

You see, despite the fact that they argued about the perfect name for their son, despite the fact that they chose what they believed to be the perfect name for their son, they call him - are you ready for this - Bubby. Yes, they call my grandson Bubby.

But wait! It gets better - because not only do they call him Bubby, they also call him Bub and Bubs.

Now let's go back two years and imagine this scenario: There they are, the two of them, my daughter and my son-in-law, laboriously going through name after name after name after name. And I come along and say, "Put the book away. I have the PERFECT name for your son - call him Bubby!"

Do you know how they would have responded? Oh, NOOOOO. Never. No way! I'm not naming my kid "Bubby!"

Well, here he is, my little "Nolan" (it's a beautiful name, isn't it), who will be two years old this June. Some day he will look his parents in they eyes and say, in a Dr. Phil kind of way (if they're still calling him Bubby), "What were you thinking?"

How My Most Embarrassing Moment Won Me a Prize
Written November 21, 2009

Many years ago, a local radio station ran a contest asking people to talk about their most embarrassing moments. While I experience embarrassing moments on an almost daily basis, one stood out from the rest and I called the radio station to tell them about it. I won dinner for two at an amazing restaurant because of this, my most embarrassing moment:

My sister Cindy and I decided to take a trip to Lake Shafer in Monticello, Indiana. The day was HOT. I don't mean the kind of hot that people talk about as in, "I couldn't breathe, it was so hot." I mean the kind of heat that was so stifling, that as we drove in my no-air-conditioner car, we became so delusional, we actually got out of the car when we saw a sign that said, "Watch for ice on bridge."

My sister was wearing a tube top and I mentioned on numerous occasions how I wished I had one. "I brought several," she said. And she offered me one. I would have stripped in the car right there if I hadn't been so modest. But I waited until we got to our room, a cozy little cottage hundreds of miles (it was supposed to be ON the lake) FROM the lake.

Wearing our tube tops, we found our way through miles of back roads and finally reached our destination. At last! Immediately upon arriving, we met two guys, who accompanied us on all the rides.

One of the rides, as it went around in circles, also bounced up and down as it spun us out of control. My sister and I, without thinking, sat on the outer edge of the ride, which turned out to be a colossal mistake, but also a blessing. As the ride accelerated, the guys ended up in front of us with their right shoulders covering our left shoulders.

The breeze felt great in my hair and I was enjoying the ride (I got the cute guy). But after about 20 minutes, I started hating the ride. It went on ENDLESSLY. It went on so ENDLESSLY that I and other passengers aboard this round and round, up and down bounce ride started saying things like: enough already - I'm getting bored - stop PLEASE - is this EVER going to end?

My sister, who sat next to (we'll call him) Bob, turned around with that look that said, "What the...?" And then she burst into fits of laughter. She turned around again and did the same thing. And again. And again. Finally (we'll call him ) Joe said, "What's wrong with your sister?" And I answered quite honestly that I thought she was suffering from heat stroke.

About 30 minutes into the ride, after Cindy had turned around for the fifth time, Bob also turned around, at which time Cindy grabbed his head and forced it to face front. She then turned around and pointed to my top, which bounced all the way down to tube my belly button.

Man Flu
Tuesday, December 29, 2009

I learned a new term yesterday from my British friend, Christine - Man Flu.

Man Flu is an interesting malady that I'm sure, though you may have been unaware of the terminology, has affected one or more of the men in your life.

The only way I can describe it is to reference my personal experiences with the debilitating disease and explain it in ways most women will understand.

Picture Mom. She takes care of two children every day, goes to work, comes home to clean the house, make dinner, bathe the children, take care of the laundry, and go grocery shopping.

Though it seldom happens, one day Mom gets the flu. She has a fever, is vomiting, and races to the bathroom for bouts of diarrhea, but she continues to go to work, to clean the house, to take care of the laundry, to go grocery shopping, and to take care of the kids while Daddy reclines on the couch watching football. He shouts commands at Mommy from the living room - what's for dinner - can you get me a beer - I can't reach the remote that I dropped - can you pick it up for me.

Now picture Dad. The poor man has the sniffles. Incapable of making it into work, he drags his slumped shoulders from his bed and complains about how his whole body feels as if it has been run over by a truck. As if you can't see it by his droopy eyes, a look he has perfected over the years, he is completely exhausted.

All the poor suffering man can do is grab the Wii remote and play numerous games on one television while racing back to finish the taped football game on the other television at the other end of the house and request you to bring his coffee, make his breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and prepare plates filled with snacks.

Throughout the day he will take numerous naps and inquire about medicines he should be taking, all the while asking you to feel his head for fever.

That, my friends, is Man Flu.

Disclaimer - I have several male friends I cherish. Not all men suffer from this affliction. But many of the men I've known throughout the years serve as textbook examples of this, um, sickness.

To read previous BLOG-O-RAMA editions, click the links:
BLOG-O-RAMA - Take One
BLOG-O-RAMA - Take Two
BLOG-O-RAMA - Take Three