Mr. Healthy

I never knew it took so much time and effort to be healthy. I was at the gym this morning when I noticed there were more people than usual in the lobby area. I soon realized we were hosting a ‘health fair’ event. I decided to investigate. Again, I never knew it took so much to be healthy.

I started out with a chair massage to get relaxed. After that I moved on to the botox stand to take care of the wrinkles in my cheeks, followed by a microderm-abrasion facial. Since my skin now had that newly buffed pinkish glow, I headed straight to the skin care product stand for some anti-aging lotion that I thought should work well with the botox. Next stop was Mary Kay for some much-needed make-up to cover the now skinless areas from the microderm-abrasion facial.

Now that my back was relaxed and the top two layers of skin gone from my face, I headed to the shoe stand for some new shoes to keep my back from hurting. Right next door was the jewelry booth where I found some nice things to accessorize my new healthy look.

With my new healthy body and new healthy accessories it was time to sign up for my tennis lessons at the tennis center booth. Since I’m now playing tennis, I needed to stop at the insurance booth to make sure I’m covered just in case I get hit in the eye or twist an ankle.

After all this, I couldn’t leave without stopping at the photographer’s booth for a portrait of the new healthy me. Almost out the door, I noticed the local Walgreens folks also had a stand. I dropped off my prescriptions and got my flu shot to make sure I STAY healthy. When the needle stuck in my arm, my back tensed up. Yep, you guessed it – one more massage before heading to the car.

Oh, and by the way, I did spend 45 minutes actually doing exercise while I was there. Just call me Mr. Healthy!

I Didn't Get Shot

I pulled up at a church in a fairly rural area for an evening program. The pastor was running a few minutes late. So I got out and loaded up the hand truck, so I could take in the first load as soon as he got there. I was already running a little later than I was comfortable with because the roads didn’t look that curvy on the map.

The hand truck was loaded when I heard a single gunshot. I used to hunt when I was a kid, so I knew it was a small caliber gun and I knew it was CLOSE!

I thought to myself, “That’s an odd thing to hear in a church parking lot.” That’s when I heard two more gunshots. Bang! Bang!

About that time I saw a guy come out of the woods. He was looking up into the trees across the street from the church. He didn’t have a gun.

“There he is!” the stranger shouted. I looked up from my phone where I was texting a buddy telling him he wasn’t going to believe what was happening. I realized the shots were intended for a single squirrel who was frantically leaping from tree to tree.

“There he is! Shoot ‘em again! Shoot ‘em again!” they shouted. The command was followed by more gunfire. I had determined that this squirrel was BETWEEN me and the unknown gunman. That put me IN the line of fire. I stood behind my car, figuring that TWO windows would slow the bullets down a little before they hit me.

About that time, my phone beeped. It was my buddy, who simply said, “DUCK!” I quickly replied back, “NO! It’s a SQUIRREL!” Isn’t technology great?

The pastor finally arrived, the show went great, and I didn’t get shot. Amen.

16 Sizes

My son hates long pants, nice shorts and his sister. Well, he doesn’t really hate her, but she IS his sister. He always wears gym shorts and tee shirts. Even when it’s cold out, he wants to wear shorts.

Being conscientious parents, we thought we should at least buy him a couple pair of jeans in case he wanted to avoid frostbite. So while in a local department store, I bought him two pair – kids size 14. This summer he wore size 12 shorts, so I figured we’d be OK.

As it turned out, he had grown more than I thought. He’s not a heavy kid, but he is rock solid and athletic just like his dad. When he tried to button them, it wasn’t even close . . . just like his dad’s pants. That evening we headed back to swap them and this time, have him try them on.

First up were some size 16 jeans. One pair buttoned, but were uncomfortable. Next were the size 18’s. They all buttoned, but had zero room for growth, which he will definitely need . . . cause he’s just like his dad. He was getting frustrated and said, “We’ll never find any to fit my big ol’ self.” I had to laugh because he’s not big but we weren’t having much luck with the pants.

The final pair of size 18’s had a defective button. When he buttoned them, the metal button snapped off, hit the floor and bounced into the next dressing room. All he said was, “SEE!”

I decided we should try on some of the smaller men’s sizes and have them hemmed if needed. It turns out a kid’s size 18 is the same as a men’s size 28 waist. I grabbed a couple pair of men’s 30 waist and we headed back to the dressing room.

He tried them on . . . and . . . success! They fit great with even a little room to grow. He asked what size they were. I told him they were 30’s. He shouted, “I WENT UP SIXTEEN SIZES!” I said, “No, you didn’t go up sixteen sizes.” He said, “I went from a 14 to a 30. That’s SIXTEEN sizes!” How could I argue with that logic? Besides, he KNEW I’m no good at math!

On the way to the checkout, I explained the sizing differences. Here’s a kid that just spent the better part of an hour trying on several pairs of jeans that were too small. Finally he learned his size was, in his mind, sixteen sizes larger than last week. On the way to the car, he amazed me completely when he asked, “Can we get an ice cream now?” I was almost speechless, but did manage to utter, “What flavor?” He really is like his dad after all!

Golf and Babe Ruth

Today I was playing golf with a buddy, John. We both are big baseball fans. We had been talking baseball and about the famous story of when Babe Ruth stepped to the plate, pointed at the fence and proceeded to hit a home run. He was confident, cocky or maybe a little of both.

At the next tee box there was a guy in the distance on a mower. I confidently said to John, “You see that guy on the mower?” in my best Babe Ruth attitude. I was joking of course. Then I hit my tee shot. The little white golf ball raced straight towards bright red mower. John said, “I though you were KIDDING!” I said, “I WAS!” The ball was getting closer and seemed to be picking up speed. With the mower engine roaring, he probably never heard me shout, “FORE!”

John and I watched in horror (OK, I watched in horror, John was laughing) as the ball bounced right across the mower deck. I wasn’t sure the mower man saw my ball because he was headed away from us. I turned to John and said, “That guy has a lot of nerve.” John asked, “What do you mean?” I said, “He just mowed my ball into little bitty pieces.”

It's not WHAT you know . . .

Sitting on a bench after dinner one night at a popular Coastal SC tourist area, I overheard a woman with a northern accent say to her companion, “Aw, look at the cute little chickens.” He replied, “Honey, those are pelicans.” She was sure of herself, but he was even more so. I almost fell off the bench because what they were watching waddle across the sidewalk were DUCKS! No I did NOT make this up. You CAN’T make up stuff this good!

Larry the Duck Comes to Life

It had been a long day on the road. I had just gotten in and was unloading the show cases from the truck. Those of you who are familiar with my school programs know of the recurring puppet character, Larry the Duck. I have an ‘old’ Larry puppet laying on the shelf just inside the door of my studio. As I walked by with a load of equipment out of the corner of my eye it looked like old Larry moved.

“That couldn’t be” I thought to myself. I went back for another load of equipment. This time by Larry didn’t move. However, on the next trip by he wiggled a little.

I decided to investigate. I went over to pick up Larry when all of a sudden out of nowhere came a rabid chipmunk. OK I’ll admit I don’t know if he was rabid or not, or even if it was a he. It was moving so fast I was barely even able to determine what type rodent it was.

When I say chipmunk, I realize it conjures up visions of the cute little Disney characters ‘Chip & Dale.’ This wasn’t Chip or Dale. This sucker was MEAN! He had assaulted Larry and had taken up residence in his torso.

I grabbed the nearest weapon, a broom that was nearby. I swatted, swung and smacked trying to run the varmint out of my building but he would not go. He had decided he liked it in there. Maybe it was Larry. Maybe it was my new air freshener. Do chipmunks like Vanilla?

I got tired of waiting so I went in the house to get my shotgun. I do live in SC after all. I did leave the door open though in case he decided to leave peacefully. Inside I cooled off and after a few hours went out and checked around. The critter was no where in site and Larry was all alone. I lowered the overhead door, apologized to Larry and went in for the evening.

The next morning I left early for another program when I got a page that we had a message on the voice mail. It was my neighbor. Apparently his dog had escaped and was in our yard. When the neighbor came to get Cash, their black lab he happened to look toward my studio window. The message he left said there was a chipmunk looking back at him. He thought I’d want to know. How nice.

Bad news is that I was away for the weekend. When I returned on Sunday I was afraid to open the door, fearful of what I might find. Would it be roadkill smell? Would it be everything gnawed to bits. Would I find a rabid she-rodent and Larry the Duck in wedded bliss?

Much to my delight, there was no smell, no gnawing remnants and Larry was still single. I left the door open for a few more hours so the chipmunk could find his way home. There’s been no rodent residue or any other signs of him since. Larry is still single with no one to argue with but me.

Cell Phone Driver

I must be getting old. In fact I think I'm turning into my dad. People are starting to irritate me. You know, those that drive while talking on their cell phones. They're a big distraction when driving. Just today I was headed to the post office. This guy on his cell phone was in the other lane. I came up beside him and he didn't even know I was there. He just came right over on me. I had to jerk the wheel to avoid a crash. He caused me to spill my hamburger all over the seat. Lettuce and tomato went flying. He even made me spill coffee on my road map. People really should be more careful.

Color Changing Shoes

If you travel much at all, you know that the majority of the time is spent waiting. Airports have come up with some innovative ways to help travelers pass the time. You can watch the over-priced automatic trash compacting garbage cans. You can buy a $6 cup of coffee. You can even buy a below average meal at an above average price. However one of my favorite activities is the time-honored shoe shine stand. If I never traveled, my shoes would never be polished. Most major airports have several locations where you can get your shoes shined. I typically get mine done adjacent to gate B-17 in the Atlanta airport. AT $5 it’s still one of the best deals around. Nothing makes a good first impression like freshly shined shoes, especially for people who look at your feet.

On this trip I had over an hour after getting to my gate, B-22. Hey, I’m not too far from the shoe shine man. Since I’m on the “B” concourse, I made a “B” line to the shoe shine man. When it’s my turn, I climb up into the chair. The gentleman who will be my shiner today is one I’ve never seen there before. He gets me situated with my feet on the pedestals and starts applying the polish. I’m enjoying my $12 smoothie and not paying much attention to what’s going on. Half way through the polish applying process he asks, “Are these shoes black?” What? My first thought was how did a color blind guy get a job at the shoe shine stand. I said, ‘They are NOW!” with a chuckle. He laughed and continued to polish, never looking up. He finished the job, I paid him and headed back to B-22 to catch my flight. I couldn’t help but wonder though as I walked away, how many people had experienced the mysterious phenomenon of the “color changing shoes.”

S.W.A.T. Team at School

I was running some errands the other day after doing some reading programs and got an email on my PDA from our kids’ principal. It said:

“Please be advised that the SWAT van has broken down in the vicinity of our school. Many officers have been standing around waiting for assistance but are being moved from the area in an effort to squelch rumors that there is a problem at the school. Please help us alleviate any concerns or rumors regarding this matter.”

All I need to add is that, “You can’t make up stuff this good!”

Half Marathon Men
The story of Barry and Tim’s Excellent Disney half-marathon adventure aka two guys having a mid-life crisis.

They arrived at the Disney motel. Tim booked low budget on this one because Barry is such a tight-wad. At the check in desk Tim whooped out his travel agent badge, another one of his ponzi schemes, and asked for a room upgrade. The lady said, “You’re already in a preferred room.” Barry said, “What if we preferred a better one?” She said, “This IS a VALUE RESORT.” Tim said, “That’s two words that just don’t go together.” Barry asked, “What is a preferred room?” She said, “It’s the one we preferred to put you in.” She had a sense of humor after all.

The next day the boys go to pick up their runner’s packets and T-shirts. Even if they don’t finish the race they get to keep the $100 T-shirt.

Race day began at 2:30 am with an alarm. Bright eyed and bushy tailed the boys headed for the bus to the Epcot starting line. Ok, they got on the bus but weren't too bushy tailed. The race began at 6:00 am so there was a great deal of time to stand in line at one of the thousands of port-a-pottys. They also watc hed some guy named Nigel sing 80's music off key, who had really big hair.

As the starting time neared and the port-a-potty lines grew longer, they started their 1.5 mile trek to the starting line. Guess it was too much to ask for the bus driver to let them out there. Disney had turned the race start into a celebration with music videos, trivia and Mickey Mouse. With thoughts of not finishing, under training and over eating, they turned it into an anxiety attack. Disney announced that along the race there would be several stations with water and sports drinks. Mile 3 was water, mile 8 was food, and mile 12 a morphine drip.

Barry and Tim ran through the Magic Kingdom, Epcot and the Disney sewage treatment facility. It turned out they had made a wrong turn at the Dumbo ride. Once they were back on course, things went well until half way through mile 10 when Tim's cramps started and Barry's bladder got full. That's what you'd call 'a situation.' Tim stretched while Barry found a port –a-potty and then the adventure continued, but at a slower pace.

Finally, the end was in sight. For the last half mile the streets were lined with people with bells and whistles cheering everyone on. Disney even had a head cheerleader on a loud speaker with way too much energy. Barry wanted to smack him but couldn't find him. Tim and Barry crossed the finish line in 3 hours 8 minutes 22 seconds, side by side with their arms raised. Everyone thought they were acting victorious. They were actually reaching out for a paramedic! A few steps past the finish line, Disney gave everyone a bottle of water and wrapped them in a silver plastic blanket which was quite comfy - NOT! Then the boys saw them . . . their coveted Donald Duck gold medals. As they limped up to receive their metals it was an emotional moment. As they placed the metal around Tim’s neck a tear formed in his eye. It would have happened to Barry too but all the moisture had left his body.

There were 27,000 runners at Disney and Tim and Barry finished third . . . from the end!

Put Down "7"

Last night we were on our annual pilgrimage to see Santa at the Mall of Georgia. That's where the REAL Santa is. We left right after school so my 4th grader was doing his homework in the car. Kristie and I were helping him with some of his math . . . something she's much better suited for than me. On one problem in particular, Kristie and I were disagreeing over how to arrive at the proper answer. Kerwin, our 4th grader was growing impatient. Finally he said, "I'll just put down SEVEN!" It was so spontaneous and so far from correct, that we both started laughing out loud. He was laughing too. Finally we asked him why seven? "Because SEVEN is my lucky number, so it might be right."

Then on the way home we had just crossed back into South Carolina, over Hartwell Lake. About that time Kerwin asked where we are. I told him that we'd just crossed back into SC. He said, "Oh, was that the Mississippi river?" He was very serious. Katie our 2nd grader replied in a real snooty tone, "Kerwin, that's NOT the Mississippi River. We're still in the United States.

These, my friends are prime examples of kids say the darndest things!

Brand New Blog

OK so I have a FINALLY blog! Welcome to the modern age . . . I guess. Since I love to write, it seems I should have done this long ago. Over this weekend, I'm in Houston, TX at a conference for school show presenters. Stay tuned because I have many stories to share . . .