Bugsy and the Ball...

The tippy-top item on every letter Bugsy wrote to Santa this year (three that we know about) listed: Furby Boom.

I had a Furby eons ago - I think it annoyed me until I regifted to my niece, Miranda. So I know what a Furby is. I also knew that Bugs wanted the black and white zebra one and, as it appeared, so did about 75% of the Furby buying public. The only way to acquire said fuzz ball was Amazon, of which I am an unofficial, undocumented, major shareholder - or should be. My Amazon account dates back to the days of... Well, let's just say pre-Furby uno.

Supply and demand. I knew I could snag the rotund zebra ball in time to pack the sleigh but would it cost me an arm and a leg above its uglier, less desirable siblings? It could have but I have age, patience and a quick iPad finger. She sees! She shops! She scores! Now all I needed was Santa and Christmas morning. Oh, and a camera to capture rapturous expression on the Bugmeister's face.

About a week before Christmas, LL Bean sends a catalogue. I don't do LL Bean but they know that and evidently my business is so vital to their bottom line that they include a '$10 off any purchase and FREE guaranteed Christmas delivery shipping'. Okay, so I'm a sucker for free shipping. The problem was I don't need sub-zero apparel here in the North American Sahara. Wait a minute! What's this?!? OMG!! It was right there on page 3: an ice cream ball! Bugsy has bounced me bonkers over that ball since last spring, badgering and begging until I felt like a bruised banana. All because of the four little words parents dread most: "As Seen On TV". No way was I gonna shell out two easy payments of $19.95 plus $9.95 shipping and handling. But here it was on page 3 for only $19.95 - minus my $10 off coupon AND free s&h. Wellll, my fat little fiingers couldn't type fast enough!

The later you get to sleep on Christmas morning is a pretty accurate guage of your kid's age. This year we didn't get the wake up scream until 7:45. Sniff. Seems like only yeaterday it was in the 5am range. Sigh.

And I still forgot the darn camera.

Anyway, Furby was a hit for about 10 minutes or until she unwrapped The Ball. Now would be a good time to explain that The Ball looks like two halves of a geodesic dome. Hollow but for a pint sized metal cup embedded in one end, into which goes a pint of 1\2 & 1\2, 1\3 cup of sugar and a capful of vanilla extract. (She has yet to experiment with any of the other 999 recipes in print so small it requires a miroscope to decipher.) You screw the lid on, flip it over, pour ice and rock salt into the hole on that side, screw that lid on and start rolling The Ball.

When I was a kid, homemade ice cream required kid power of a different sort and my arms still ache from the memories. The Ball, by comparison, is a piece of ice cream cake. I suggested getting the dogs to roll it around but Spike is too old for such frivolity and Maxi can't even see over the darn thing. Bugsy measured, poured, assembled, sat on the floor and rolled it to Art's feet, positioneded at the base of his recliner, and he'd roll it back. Fifteen minutes later...voila! Ice cream. Bugsy was over the moon. Art complained it was hard work. I proclaimed it 'good enough to eat'.

I haven't seen Furby since Christmas.

 

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'Twas the Before Christmas - Southern Style

'Twas the night before Christmas would trash up the house. Who's gonna be Santa? Me or the spouse?

Our kidlet was playing possum you see -hoping to glimpse the Big Guy (and not me!)

When out by the pool there arose such a splash, (it turns out the reindeer had been at the mash)

With a camera and towel I rushed right outside. 'Swim, Santa, swim', my Forrest-self cried

No way was the old guy gonna croak on my watch, cuz that would sure turn down the cheer a huge notch!

Now it took a good while to de-drench the old elf. Thank goodness I had a spare suit on the shelf

Shaking and shivering and weak in the knee, he tripped on a gift and knocked down our tree!

I said not a word, (my southern roots run deep) not a sigh, not a frown, not one single peep.

Gathering himself, all red in the face, he thanked me profusely and dashed from our place

Too late I realized I'd gotten no proof! Who'd ever believe such a Santa sized goof?

And who'd clean up the mess that he'd left behind? A merry maid at midnight would be hard to find...

I consoled myself with an 'Oh,what the heck' - how often does Santa drip on your deck?!?

Then we heard him exclaim as he rose over the wall 'Giddy up, Rudolph and Merry Christmas, y'all'.

 

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'Hello' Kitty White Speaks Out

Last Live Concert

My third cousin (several times removed...), Kitty White, announced today that she will sue her adoptive parents:

"I was duped!", the diminutive, adorable White howled. "I was promised that Japan with all its fish would be a paradise. They said I would be safe."

White, better know as 'Hello Kitty', originally agreed to the arrangement, lured by fame, fortune and fish. She was not disappointed.

"To be loved by so many adoring fans! My name in lights! Fresh tuna!"

Sadly, greed overcame her parents who, in need of ready cash, allowed their charge to be hijacked.

'For an innocent such as me-ow, it was all too much," White purred, favoring her right shoulder. The girlish icon is rumored to be suffering from pawasoris, in spite of claims to the contrary by her new 'guardian' Meow Say Tung.

"They took away my cream," Kitty hissed. "They say I must eat rice like everyone else!"

Demand for her likeness continues to grow world-wide amid grumbles of declining quality. Further ruffling her fur, royalties recently estimated near 100 million have been drastically reduced:

"One small fish a week! Who can survive on that!"

Since releasing her statement via Skype last month, no further communication has been forthcoming. Her scheduled appearance at an annual NYC parade caused further unrest when a giant balloon likeness served as a substitute. An inside source, speaking under anonymity, attests that after the now infamous video conference, Kitty's signature pink cell phone did not survive contact with a jack boot. Her parting yowls, however, were overhead:

"I have claws and I'm not afraid to use them!"

We'll keep you updated...

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I Heard The Shots Heard Round The World

My kid brother and I were breathless with excitement - it was the morning of a day to be full of 'firsts': first trip on a bus, first trip downtown, first parade, first trip to mom's office and our first look at a President! Holy Cow! Could it get any better?!?

Mom and our nanny, Maureen, skillfully maneuvered us down to the corner of Houston and Main. So many people! Through the forest of adult legs around me all I could see was the curb but it looked like the perfect place to sit. My little legs were tired from all the walking but no such luck. Kevin and I had our hands held tighter than the gold at Fort Knox. No matter how we tugged and pulled...

The crowd suddenly surged against us. Unseen below the mass, Kev and I were knocked down momentarily before magically being lifted skyward. We'd been lifted onto the shoulders of two men just as the sounds of the motorcycles and cars neared. The street lay now lay below us and I thought the whole city must be there. So many people yelling and cheering. And then I saw the lady in pink; she looked like a princess.

When the firecrackers went off, I looked over at my brother as we smiled and clapped.

'Blackcats', I thought, the 'pop, pop... pop, pop, pop' still ringing in my head.

In the next instant, we were literally dragged down the street, my knees scrapping the sidewalk. My last clear memories were seeing the blood on my legs and a footprint across the back of Kevin's pant leg.

Looking back across these fifty years I'm surprised at what sticks with me the most about that day. It isn't the horror of what happened in Dallas on November 22, 1963. No, I think about a time when two complete strangers -men- could show two small children a kindness simply by lifting them up to witness history.

Yes, the world has certainly changed in the last fifty years.

Today, I was lambasted for posting against a K-mart commercial in which men shake their underwear-clad genitals in time to a Christmas carol:

"Wow - to think in 2013 we still have puritans around. Look in the mirror - you'll see the ding dong....."

No, when I look in the mirror I see a face lined with memories; memories of innocence, riding a bicycle unafraid in the carefree dusk of a perfect summer day or walking home alone from school with nothing more troubling than a spelling test on my mind. Watching television and laughing with my family in the evening.

I see a face lined with the concerns of a parent in today's world knowing I cannot allow those wonderful freedoms for my eight year old. Stranger danger. Amber Alert. Mature audiences only. Not suitable.

I feel a very deep sorrow for someone who would call me a Puritan based solely on my aversion to having a bunch of guys ringing their 'bells' in my face. He's obviously never known any different way of life. How sad.

A fear-based environment is not healthy for children and other living things.

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Living Las Vegas

I was a teenager when I read Stephen King's novel The Stand. Okay, so I was young and impressionable: Las Vegas deserved the Sin City moniker because it was Evil Headquarters. OMG! How could normal, nice people even think about wanting to live there?!? Fast-forward a decade or two and the mini-series airs. Note to self is now bold, all-caps, multi-underlined:

NEVER LIVE IN VEGAS!!!

 

Yeah, I know, never say 'never'...

Been here almost 20 years now and my young, impressionable self was absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt right; this place is not normal. Ours was to be a temporary RV stop on the way to Better Things, USA. Alas, John Lennon's prophetic words still ring in my ears: life is what happens when you're busy making other plans'. A short term job morphed into a permanent one and, before we knew it, were eyeing that pension, raising a grandchild and too upside down on our home to move anywhere else. Since hindsight is 20/20, I guess I'll do the only thing I can do: RANT!

The mob wasn't stupid. Where else but in the middle of a wasteland could you legally build a place with the sole purpose of gambling, boozing and getting laid? When we first moved here, Vegas still resembled its depiction in The Stand movie: a deep dusty bowl surrounded by dry brown mountains, The Strip glittering in its center like a cheap engagement ring. For a hundred miles in any direction lay desert inhabited by coyotes, snakes, scorpions and prey-food rabbits, mice and lizards. It wasn't at all unusual to turn up a skeleton from time to time: hapless gold seekers done in by nature a hundred back or done in by a double-tap not so many years (or months, weeks, days) ago. Of course, the biggest predators were and still are down on the valley floor; prey comes willingly, eager to surrender themselves to pleasures of the flesh and the the lure of that gold.

Although we're less than a 10 minute drive from fake Eiffel Tower and New York's mini-me and our mailing address says: Las Vegas, NV, we don't actually live is Las Vegas. The vast majority of us (over 2 million) live in what's called unincorporated Clark County, which covers just a tad over 8000 sq miles. Las Vegas - the actual city - is tiny by comparison with around 500,000 inhabitants residing in about 135 square miles. But here's the kicker: those 135 sq miles do not include its most famous and lucrative attraction: The Strip. It runs on either side of Las Vegas Boulevard thru the unincorporated cities of Paradise, Winchester and North Las Vegas. Confused? Try living here.

On the news last month, Las Vegas mayor Carolyn Goodman, defined Las Vegas as an 'adult community'. That really had me fuming. When asked by a local 4th grade class what he would take if he could only have one thing on a deserted island, the previous mayor and former mob lawyer Oscar Goodman (the current mayor's husband) answered: "A bottle of gin".

No wonder it consistently ranks near or at the top of 'Worst US Cities to Raise a Family In" polls.

Las Vegas casts a big shadow for being such a small part of southern Nevada. And if you are going to promote yourself as the adult entertainment capital of the world, shouldn't the entertainment be inside the city limits?!?

The problem, as I see it, is that it was never meant to be a place to actually live. Never meant to be a place for normal people to put down roots and raise a family. I could be wrong but if you want to put down roots somewhere don't you need things like, oh, I don't know - water?!? And then it just got worse: in the late 1990's, people started moving here by the tens of thousands for no discernible reason.

What were they thinking?!? Didn't anybody actually look before they leapt into the U-Haul? The city's infrastructure was already at a very public breaking point. Sure, land might be plentiful but didn't you also need little things like roads, schools, healthcare, water and real jobs? Didn't body parts turning up in suitcases at the mall cause even a twinge of doubt? Evidently not, what with a 42% population explosion in just ten years.

So why? We didn't have a bunch of non-gaming businesses decide to open here and yeah, they were building new casinos but they implode and reinvent those all the time. Oh, and a slew of high-rise luxury condos were going up but there weren't enough rich people to buy them so most of them went bankrupt.

If you look at the median income of Clark County residents, it doesn't take an accountant to conclude most of us can't afford to enjoy our city like the visitors do. What with our soaring utility costs and being foreclosure capital of the country there is not much left over with which to partake. We did splurge on my birthday ten years ago and spent $190.00 on a pair of nose-bleed seats to see Bette Midler. Thank God and the big-hearted casinos that we had a local ID or it would've cost $200.00!

In response to the conservation pleas by the Southern Nevada Water Authority we tore out our beautiful front lawn and put in lame lava rock. And we were repaid by having our water bill increased anyway. But hey! The gigantic Bellagio fountains are still dazzling the visitors! I signed us up for a special rate Nevada Power offers if you limit electricity use between the peak hours of 2-7pm. I couldn't sign up fast enough! We'd replaced our AC unit with the top rated model last year and I was already line-drying all our wash, neurotic about turning off/unplugging everything, had replaced all our light bulbs and set the AC at 80 degrees. Want to guess what our 'special rate' bill was for August? How about almost $800.00. We've watched our home go from the $125k we paid for it in 1998 up to the highest, knock on our front door, cash offer of $317k until it finally floated down to the $98k of the current market.

Gee, if only we could ignore Sin City as well as it ignores us...

So it all started with a guy named Bugsy and a casino called The Flamingo. All these years later the song remains the same. Las Vegas lives to serve one master: the casino industry. The casino industry worships the tourists. The people who live here? We're just playing the hand we're dealt, wishing we'd have known when to fold 'em.

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Two Years Beyond Expiration Date?!?

Three years ago tomorrow I confronted my rather erudite rheumatologist with a decision:

"Henceforth, I shall no longer fight my arch nemesis, the evil Psoriatic Arthritis, with bi-weekly self-injections of poison nor shall I continue to irradiate him with chemo-by-mouth pills. This seems to have become both an effort in futility and rather like cutting one's head off to cure a toothache."

My erstwhile physician was not pleased. Obviously, he neither had the disease nor first-hand experience with the combative tools but voice his strong objection nonetheless:

"You are making a big mistake," he thundered. "You do this and you will be in a wheelchair before summer!"

Knowing it was fruitless but proceeding anyway, I pointed out that while my arch nemesis seemed little damaged by his prescribed battle plan I, seemingly the sole object of his professional concern, now had severe cataracts, no teeth, a damaged liver and compromised immune system. At this point he did have the good grace to look somewhat ashamed, admitting there was no cure - only 'suggested' treatment options with very nasty side effects - before beating a hasty retreat to meet his tennis partner.

Faced with both a prognosis and 'sell by' date, I made a rather long and laborious retreat homeward to tell my husband and children...

Yesterday I surrendered to a lovely power chair given me by a kind and concerned friend. The three of us: myself, hubby and 8 year-old made up a rather gypsy-looking caravan towards the park. It was the first time in almost three years I moved forward (without pain) under my own power. Freed from wheelchair pushing duty, my husband strolled cheerfully while Bugsy rode circles around us on her bike. Later, Bugsy and I raced the park perimeter. She made it around two and a half times to my one. I also learned not to attempt a direct small curb climb: the mental face-plant picture still looms in the front of my brain.

Turning homeward, my mind whirled with creativity! I needed a holder for my black paper Japanese fan and a place to park a drink. Needless to say, a tray for my iPad and bags of all sizes and colors must be attached. An internet search quickly revealed the wonders of E-tape. (You must wait for pictures!) Most of all, I met an old forgotten friend named Hope and said a silent prayer that I wouldn't lose sight of her again... :)

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Why Stupid People Are Bad For Us

In my 50 - something years I’ve come to realize that stupid people actually control America. Not politicians and government officials - although it is quite obvious that ‘Stu-Pees’ (as I will now refer to them for brevity’s sake) - do, in fact, exist within that particular group as so often attested to by mainstream media. No, I’m talking about your average idiot on the street; the everyday, ordinary Jane and Joe Dunces. The All-American dim witted who do very stupid things that lead to loss of freedom and the right to common sense for the rest of us.

How, you might ask, is this bad for you? Oh, let me count the ways! First of all, Stu-Pees seem to have some kind of mystical ability to draw the attention of soap box firebrands who - having probably nothing else to do - instantly decide that whatever idiotic act the aforementioned Stupee committed must therefore cause the rest of us to repeat the mistake. Remember mom asking:

"What?!? If your friend Joey jumps off a bridge are you gonna jump, too?"

You, (of course!) denied being that stupid. So why, for God’s sake, if some kid steals OxyContic from his poor, cancer-riddled grandma, crushes it up, snorts it at a party and OD’s, do the poor souls, who truly suffer with the pain for which the drug was made for, get punished?

I smoked for over 40 years. Tried to quit for thirty. Tried patches, gum, hypnosis and the pill. Oh, my God, the pill. After a week the side effects turned me into a suicidal maniac. I just knew that there was no way on God's green earth I would ever be able to put down my Capri 120’s.

Then along comes the electronic cigarette. Do you know what it is? How it works? I’ll tell you how it worked for me: I bought one July 10th, 2010 and never smoked again. My doctor did joyous cartwheels.

Ah, I can the Stu-Pees now:

"Never smoked again?!? How can you say that? Aren’t you smoking an electronic cigarette?"

Not so fast, Sherlock. (Oxymoronic, I know) I am vaping. No flame, no fire, no tar. No second hand smoke. No nasty smell. None of the 400 + toxic chemicals found in real cigarettes enter my lungs. What I do inhale is flavored - called e-juice or liquid - made with a food grade glycerine product base, a food grade flavoring for taste and may or may not contain varying amounts of liquid nicotine. The same glycerine product found in foods you eat every day; the base ingredient in medical inhalers. Notice I said medical.

Surprisingly, as it turns out, that ranks-up-there-with-Charlie Manson nicotine may actually have some positive benefits but you must dig deep to find that little whiff of info because in the American Evils Dictionary nicotine falls somewhere between necrophilia and nightmare. Nicotine research is about as popular as road kill stew.

(My bad. This is a link that discusses the beneficial properties: )

The skyrocketing number of people who are quitting the tobacco habit via e-cig have Big Tobacco running scared and they are scrambling to muscle into the act. Lobbying to have laws, regulations and outright bans while secretly developing their own e-cig model, forcing smaller competitors out of the market. No one has yet to produce any proof that ‘vaping’ is harmful to your health nor has any public official stepped up to even suggest that it might save a life or two. Million.

Enter Stupee. Now old Stupee quit smoking years ago; he still vividly recalls the agonies of defeat, still clinches with cravings. If he can’t smoke nobody can. He wants you to endure the hell he did. Sally Stupee never smoked and has no idea what quitting the habit is like. Nor does she know or care what an electronic cigarette is. Frankly, she doesn’t care whether you live or die. No, Sally thinks teenagers will use them. They must be outlawed!!!

Just say 'no’ cuz that’s worked so well…

I started smoking for the same reason most kids do: peer pressure, to be cool. Honestly, if my kid wanted to smoke I’d run to the nearest place I could find one and buy him an e-cig and a bottle of zero-nicotine, bubble gum flavored liquid and thank my lucky stars for the technology.

Stupid people are bad for you because they lack what? Intelligence? No. Stupid people are bad for you because they have no common sense. That’s the part of your brain that tells you, for instance, if you order a cup of coffee and spill it on yourself you’ll get burned. If you are behind the wheel of a moving vehicle and texting you can kill somebody. Stupid people cost the rest of us millions of dollars and mind numbing amounts of legislature to protect us from them.

Just common sense, right?

 

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Maybe It Ain't All Bad...

(Warning: some of you might get mad at me over this but here goes....)

I was just thinking about the government shut down and my brain took a few crazy turns.

First of all, I am truly, sincerely concerned and praying for the everyday people in our country who have lost income, benefits or are in harm's way - Hurricane Karen is storming towards north towards the Gulf Coast: 

"Due to the Federal government shutdown, NOAA.gov and most associated web sites are unavailable.Only web sites necessary to protect lives and property will be maintained."

David Becker/Las Vegas Review-Journal

I wish from the bottom of my heart to thank those like the tiny group of air traffic controllers here in Las Vegas who are volunteering (no pay) their time to keep planes and their passengers safe.

 I'm sorry the our national parks closed but tickled that our struggling state parks are benefiting with increased visitor numbers. Yes, Las Vegas does actually have things other than casinos and fake world landmarks. Lake Meade National Park - our closest - ought to be called 'Pond Meade' due to the massive drop in water levels making its most prominent feature the wide white 'bathtub ring' around it. We've lived in Vegas for almost 20 years and for me the experience is what I imagine picnicking on Mars is like...

Six miles further out, Valley of Fire State Park is just a breathtaking place and has incredible 3,000 year-old Indian petroglyphs. I'm always amazed at how many of our local residents have never even been. True, summer time temps aren't actually conducive to a lengthy hike, but it ranks higher of the two, IMO.

Helping people discover their own state's natural wonders and supporting their maintenance is good, right?

Posts about the government shutdown clog up my Face-book news-feed worse than diapers down the drain; I wouldn't stick my feet in that water to comment even if they were on fire. I keep hearing lines like 'us against them' but exactly who 'us' and 'them' are is as difficult for me to discover as a dot in the dark. It's not just Democrats vs Republicans and it can't be a good vs evil battle because that would mean half of us are evil. Paraphrasing more than one brilliant thinker: evil is born when good men see a wrong and do nothing about it. I refuse to believe Americans are all bad...

 

Last time I remember America feeling this divisive I was just a child. Back then, 'us' and 'them' water fountains made a lasting impression on my young mind. 

Actually, fifty years ago, my mom took my kid brother and I to a parade downtown. It was huge! We'd never seen so many people! A couple of men nearby offered to shoulder my brother and I so we could see it. I can't remember how long we'd been there or what came before it but when the crowd around us began to shout and cheer, Kev and I knew something exciting was coming. We were on the corner as a long black convertible came by. Riding in it, a kind-looking man smiled and waved at us; a pretty lady dressed all in pink - even her hat! - sat next to him. It turned and suddenly, a string of Black Cat firecrackers sounded. I remember my eyes meeting my brother's in shared glee: we loved firecrackers! All I recall after that was literally being dragged down the street - my knees were bleeding; people were screaming and crying. 

The whole world screamed and cried.

If you don't instantly know what I'm talking about, Google 'November 22'. Better yet, watch what that kind-looking man had to say about America. Once upon a time...

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