Marlo Thomas, I miss you

I find myself in a moral conundrum today.

In my mailbox, I received a solicitation for a donation with some mailing labels included. Yes, that's right. Freebie mailing labels. The one thing on Earth I covet more than anything. Remember this?

Except these weren't from Marlo Thomas. They were from the Susan G. Komen Foundation. I know what you're thinking -- what's her problem with breast cancer research.

Well, nothing. I believe strongly in a yearly mammogram, and I hope you do, too. The reality is I'm likely to wind up as one of the women benefitting from that research someday -- breast cancer runs deep in my family. I've watched friends fight it it as well.

But . . . . The Susan G. Komen Foundation  unfunded another organization in 2012 that provides breast cancer screening and education to women. And while the funding was restored after a public backlash, the foundation lost my support.

Morals vs. mailing labels. No one ever said life was easy.

The days are long but the years are short

Another summer has come and gone. It is so quiet here today. I miss them. Good thing I'm having a root canal for distraction.

Why I'll never have an Angelina Jolie lip

So I always thought Botox might be an option to rid myself of my permanent frown lines. And a little lip plumping, why not? Hoo-boy, have I rethought that. Turns out I'm not a fan of the whole needle in the lip thing.

This ah-hah moment came when I took Carly to the dermatologist this week because she had something weird growing on her arm. The PA took one look at me and said, "You need to see the doctor."

So I did and now I'm sporting a fat, bloody lip for my compliance. I'd show you, but really, it's a little tacky.

Turns out that black spots on your lips are not a good thing. You heard it here first.

Time flies

So how you been?

Me? I'm good. I've been around, just not here. Sort of Where's Waldo-esque. Had you known where to look you might have seen me:

 

On the beach in the Bahamas after swimming with the dolphins. Very cool, excpet for the wet suit. It wasn't painful to wear, just painful to look at after the fact. There is definitely a market for more flattering water wear.

Sitting at a bus stop at a Disney resort. Repeatedly. Very NOT cool. Next visit I'm going back to my first love, the Polynesian. In fashion news, I discovered bandanas. No time to shampoo, no problem. This is my new look. Much easier.

  

Here we are at Magin Kingdom. Notice how I'm usually behind someone? Strategy at its finest.

 

And while there's no photographic evidence, I've also been to Milwaukee, Minneapolis, Clear Lake, Eagle Grove, Ames, and a few other assorted destinations.

 

Somewhere in the middle I had a birthday and spent my birthday week (and a little beyond) going out with my friends!! I have great friends!! The fam actually got a little miffed because I was gone "too much," but really, how can you turn down a birthday invitation. That would be rude.

 

So here we are this week, which has been spent in more than one medical office. Anyone who knows me knows this is completely out of character. I hate going to the doctor and only go if forced, like today. I do manage to visit the dentist twice a year, which is a good thing because I found out yesterday that I have a dental isse. A MAJOR dental issue. A big bucks kind of issue. Something I've never heard of before. Whose fault is that? I guess I'll find out tomorrow, when I have another appointment. This time with a specialist who will hopefully offer me a payment plan because the previously mentioned vacation broke the bank.

 

It's good to visit with you again! Let's go out for a drink. I think I'm going to need it.

    

 

Mother's Day

Me and the Hoop-lahs. Love them.

This and that

On Friday nights, Carly and I go to Chili's when the menfolk are busy with basketball. She and I like to play Marble Matrix on the game kiosk. Normally she wins; that artistic mind of hers sorts out those patterns like nobody's business. It's the same reason why you don't want to play Memory with her; she always win. She is the Michael Jordan of Memory. You are the benchwarmer.

But I digress. This post has nothing to do with Marble Matrix. (Although you should know that I scored a rare win tonight. Hooray for me!!)

Chili's is now requiring customers who want to pay with a credit or debit card to check themselves out using the game kiosk. You punch a button, it tells you what you owe and suggests a 20 percent tip. You swipe your card, and then wait 20 minutes for the manager to bring you the receipt that didn't print.

This bugs me. I'm paying for service, not to do it myself. I have the same issue with self-checkout at the grocery store. If I'm doing your work, you can lower your prices. (Hy-Vee, I'm talking about you.)

Does this bother anyone else or is it just another sign that I don't get it?

In other unrelated events, I've embarked on a new hobby . . . you might not have heard of this before -- it's called putting pictures into a photo album. It looks like this:

I'm just kidding. Your grandma probably had a few of these, so you've at least seen one before. Digital photos are great, and they look really nice in your computer folders. But the reality, at least around here, is that no one is going to look at them. And my brain cells are dying off by the day, so I need to write down what these pictures are about before I completely forget.

I bought a bunch of the exact same album at Target. 160 photos per year. My plan is to work backward, one album for each year until I run out of pictures and albums, years, or interest.

And finally, a picture of Riley, who earned a Presidential Award for being a smarty pants. Please be sure to notice the $6,000 smile!

A blog about dolls

Check out Carly's blog, A Doll's World, at http://kittyaglover825.blogspot.com/. Literary genius runs in the family, you know.

The importance of counting to 10

A couple of weeks ago, at a basketball tournament, a mom from an opposing team called Riley a "thug" to his face after a game in which her team lost.

A team we've played before. A parent we're likely to see again.

Perhaps she saw my baby looking like this. I doubt she had, but even if she did, should it matter?

She called him a "thug" because he played tough in that game. You want to call him aggressive. Fine. He plays hard and, in fact, is working on playing harder. Most kids this age do. They're high schoolers who want to win, who dream of making it to the next level. They have to be tough to succeed in basketball . . . and life.

Riley told us what happened. He didn't say it, but I could tell it bothered him. Of course we reminded him about the old "sticks and stones" philosophy. But inside I was seething.

What is wrong with people? When did it become okay for grown-ups to call kids names? I'd like to tell you this was the first time in sports I've heard a parent call a kid a name. But it's not. It happened to Riley once before, a couple of years ago, long enough for me to forget what was said, but not long enough for me to forget it happened. At best, these incidents serve as a reminder that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. The "thug" in question just happens to be a straight A student taking honors classes. His future is full of promise.

So fast forward to today. I took the kids to Red Robin for lunch as a spring break treat. (They've been looking forlorn, the whole "what are we going to do for spring break" thing. Uhhh . . .nothing?) You'll never guess who was in that restaurant, only a few feet away.

Riley noticed her first, and then my mama bear came roaring out. I wanted nothing more than to say a few words to her, not of the charitable variety either. But I didn't because I understand the importance of being a good example, even when everything in me calls for a smackdown. (I am, after all, an east-side girl.)

So I'll leave it at this: Bad karma, lady. Don't be surprised someday when my "thug" is your kid's boss.

Speechless

Here at the Hoop-lah house we are winding up Christmas break and getting back to the routine. Not a moment too soon. This goes away tomorrow.

 

Call it a moment of madness when a group of teenage boys has free time. And actually, I have to acknowledge it was nicely done if you like the look. To me it screams punk rocker, not a lifestyle I want him to aspire to.

I've moved past speechless. Now I'm saying hallelujah for basketball, because around here you can't play with a ferret on your head.

Snow Miser pays a visit





Today I am happy for the foot of snow on my deck. Our land here is dry and the moisture is desperately needed. It is the first snow we've had in a long time.

It's a mixed blessing because snow (and blizzard conditions) don't come without problems. At our house, the belt on the snowblower broke. The tire on the Highlander was flat this morning, followed by a dead battery, not caused by weather, but by human error. A limb on this tree in our backyard partly snapped from the weight of the snow. My mom's power is out, almost 24 hours later.

But we are all home and not out on the roads, where people have died today and interstate traffic has been tied up for hours. Although I did go to Target, which is less than a mile from my house. It was so slick, and I'm a nervous Nellie winter driver anyway. White kunckle the whole way. But we wanted to make cookies and someone (ahem) needed some Midol.

So we're here. It's safe. It's warm. And we have freshly baked cookies. Stop by if you're out.

Finding the light

Today Carly asked if it was safe to go to school. Between last week's tragedy and this week's prediction of doomsday, she is scared. Scared she won't see us again.

And my heart broke.

I am the saddest I ever remember being.

I think my life coach would tell me to find something positive every day to reflect on. So that's my new strategy. Today I'm thinking about:

 

An early Christmas weekend with Scott's family. Here he is with his parents and brother.

 

My Parkview Star, recognized for her outstanding citizenship at an awards ceremony last Friday.

Red, White and Blue Hoop-lah

Here at The Daily Hoop-lah, I rarely talk about issues of importance such as the economy, immigration, proposed casinos, Kim Kardashian and Big Bird. Mostly because I think opinions are highly over-rated unless, of course, they're mine. I don't have time to come up with actual facts to convince you that I'm right.

But every once in a while someone will ask me where I stand. Really, wouldn't you rather hear about the time I met Rick Springfield?

But because today is Election Day, I'll play along. Here's my take on politics:

• My first election was 1988. I voted for George Bush (the older one) because I liked his wife.
• Bill Clinton is my favorite (living) president although, in general, I am hugely judgmental about men cheating on their wives. 
• I have memorized the names of the first 16 presidents and those after 1988, in order. Impressive, I know. That will be my winning ticket on Jeopardy.
• I like that Mary Matlin and Donna Brazil are friends. How cool is that?
• My office hosted the 2004 democratic debate in Des Moines before the Iowa caucus. I met John Edwards (not forgiving of his moral lapses), John Kerry, Howard Dean, Richard Gephardt, and a few others. If you ask me privately, I'll tell you which one(s) was the biggest jerk.
• In said primary, Charlie Gibson from ABC News was in town, and I spent lots of time celebrity stalking. I love Charlie Gibson! Charlie Gibson for President! 
• I voted at a new precinct today, a church. They had homemade cookies. My old precinct, at a mobile home park, never had cookies. I think I am now judgmental about that. The cookies were awesome! I was voter #649.
• I'll give bonus points to any candidate that invites Bon Jovi or Rick Springfield and me to their campaign event.
• Robo-call me too many times and I won't vote for you.
• The key to my heart: Convince me you are the best candidate for women and children. That is what matters to me. 

One for the scrapbook

Riley earned a varsity letter this fall in cross country. So proud of him. Such a tremendous work ethic in this kid.  



I-o-wa gurls are unforgettable

 

Katy Perry paid us a visit last night for Beggar's Night. I LOVE Halloween!! The kids are cute, most everyone likes candy, and who can resist dressing up for a few hours. Around Des Moines, the tradition is for the kids to tell a joke to get their treat. This goes WAY back . . . can't tell you when it started, but it's what we did when I went trick or treating many, many years ago. Like 35 years ago. You can always tell who the long-time residents are - we're the ones asking for the jokes. It was so popular back in the day that the Des Moines Register used to print a special joke section the Sunday before Beggar's Night. Somehow that went by the wayside, as did our elementary school Halloween parade and gym fun house. All of which, in my opinion, are signs of societal decline.

But I digress. My favorite joke from last night: What does an eye doctor give out at Halloween? Candy corneas!

My only sadness is that once the kids hit middle school age most people think they're too old to trick or treat. If they put on a costume and tell me a joke, they're always welcome!

Days of our lives

Lest you think we've spent the past month sitting around doing nothing, here's a few pics to prove otherwise.

Our very own Hoop-lah was inducted this weekend into the Geneseo (Ill.) High School Hall of Fame inaugural class - along with his teammates from the 1982 Class 4-A Illinois State Football Champions. Here he is with Carly and Riley and his proud momma.

 

 

 

When you get bored at the Hall of Fame ceremony, you balance a pumpkin on your head. These kids are so talented!

 

 

 

We visited our favorite pumpkin patch, where we rode these bucking broncos.

 

 

We took in a sunset. It's interesting . . . this shot is one block west of our new high school. It looks rural, but it most definitely isn't. Development is just on the other side of this lens.

 

 

 

And "we" ran in a race or two . . . and I don't use the term "we" loosely. It is tough work hauling your middle-aged butt all over the course, trying to get from place to place before those kids. I continue to be amazed by the great pictures other people take! Two meets left . . . districts on Thursday and (hopefully) state the following week.

 

More from Marshalltown

Off to the races

The cross country season finally started today after being delayed a week because of excessive heat. This race was at Marshalltown Community College, a surprisingly hilly course. Pictured above are some of the Ankeny kids starting. Below is my Hoop-lah, coming in fifth. Go Hawks!

Remembering Iowa's missing children

Anyone growing up in the Des Moines area in 1982 can tell you who Johnny Gosch is. He disappeared 30 years ago today while delivering newspapers in the early morning hours. He was around my age, and his disappearance stunned the metro community. Things like that simply didn't happen here. Then, in 1984, Eugene Martin also disappeared while delivering newspapers in Des Moines. Both cases remain unsolved.

And then, this July, two young cousins from Evansdale, Iowa, disappeared while out riding their bikes. Their names are Elizabeth Collins and Lyric Morrissey. They are still missing.

In between, other children gone.

Every once in a while I see Johnny Gosch's mom, Noreen, around town. I wonder how she has made it 30 years, if the pain ever ever leaves her, where her determination to go on comes from.

As a mom, I can't imagine anything worse.

So tonight, please say a prayer for these children and the others torn from their families. And help keep an eye on the ones in your neighborhood.

Checking in with Mike Wazowski

Every once in a while someone will ask me what's up with Mike. He rarely makes an appearance here, mostly because he hates the paparazzi as much as any publicity-shy celebrity. But last night he was off his game and was caught lounging between the stair banisters. Interesting choice considering this house is full of more comfortable spots.

A non-coach-endorsed break

Today marked a turning point in Couch to 5K. I haven't posted about it lately because I took a short mental health break. Give or take a few weeks.

It started when my coach left for his whirlwind basketball tour. There were a few days I didn't run because of rain. Those days turned into a few more because of . . . fatigue? pain? lack of motivation? disinterest at going it alone? Maybe it was a combination. It's fascinating to me that I ran religiously through the hottest part of the summer. Once the weather improved, I stopped. I figured I'd get back on the horse when my coach came home. Except I didn't, and then he went back to school.

I quickly realized that I was going to have to do it myself or admit defeat. A year ago I would have thrown in the towel and surrendered. But I'm tired of the negative doubt - from myself and others - and, most of all, of not meeting my own expectations.

So tonight I put my shoes back on and headed out. Day 49 is now in the books.