2008-08-20 9:51 p.m.
What a lovely Day! Terry will sometimes travel in his chair around the house from one room to another and break into song. Sometimes they are cute little ditties he learned from his nice Catholic buddies, some from his mates on the tankers (oh, much, much more humorous) or he will start singing a country song. I never know when he starts what it will be. I must tell you at this point that the first time I heard him sing, we were in Mystic Connecticut at the Landing. It was Karaoke and I couldn�t believer he was going to do it. At this point I had only known him about a year and hadn�t heard him sing. I loved him dearly, but I was ready to crawl under the table. We were with My sister Carol and her friend, Bob at the time. Carol leaned over to me and asked,
�Can he sing?�
�I haven�t got a clue!�
Well, never mind that the room was packed as it always was on a Saturday evening in the summer. He whispered to the DJ and off he went singing Willie Nelson�s Help Me Make it Through the Night I was floored. First was the fact that this man�s accent is still as thick as brick after being here for 30 years. But can the man sing? He sure as heck can! Beautifully. Some woman across from me said, "Wow, he is good!." I answered with, "Yes, thank you. Oh, he's with me." I love hearing him, whether it�s cracking up at the silly or naughty ones or just hearing bits and pieces of something more serious. Why am I going on bragging about my sweetie? Because his mind has finally been hit with that dreaded desease, CSR. At least he is comical to watch and keeps me greatly entertained.
Last night, he was in a particularly silly mode. He started singing some ditty or another then all of a sudden he decided to switch gears. He sweeps into the living room with this loving romantic look in his eyes and starts out,
�Unbreakable.
That�s what you are.
Unbreakable.
Though near or far.
Like a song of love that�. Aw shit, that�s not the right word, is it?�
I couldn�t help it, a laughed my fool head off. I though I was going to choke. Poor old Nat King Cole. Poor me! I may not be �unforgettable,� but I won�t end up with a �broken� heart! I think we spend much more time watching movies these days than listening to music. Ya think?
I dropped a couple more pounds. I�m down to 190. 12 total so far. I hate that I have to weigh myself every day. I never did when I dieted. One reason is because if I stay the same weight for three or four days, it gets depressing and the other thing is that I don�t get that Oh wow! Feeling I would when I lost 4 or 5 pounds between the weighing days. I look at it this way. It took me one year to go from 157 to 202. I gained 45 pounds. If it takes a year to get back down , I�m fine with that. That would be another 33 pounds. I want to hit at least 170 by Thanksgiving so I can blow the diet for one day. We�ll see how it goes. Though, I am really missing my Honeynut Cheerios with my strawberries and blueberries something awful. One advantage to giving up almost all of my favorite foods as opposed to giving up cigarettes. At least I can look forward to the cereal and fruit again one day.
Have a giggle on me.
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome, including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was 'something wrong' with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
'He's just lying there looking sick,' he told me. 'I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?'
I put my best lizard-healer expression on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
'Honey,' I called, 'come look at the lizard!'
'Oh, my gosh!' my wife exclaimed. 'She's having babies.'
�What?' my son demanded. 'But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!'
I was equally outraged.
'Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce,' I said accusingly to my wife.
'Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?' she inquired (I think she actually said this sarcastically!)
'No, but you were supposed to get two boys!' I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth)..
'Yeah, Bert and Ernie!' my son agreed.
'Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know,' she informed me (again with the sarcasm!).
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
'Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience,' I announced. 'We're about to witness the miracle of birth.'
'Oh, gross!' they shrieked.
'Well, isn't THAT just great? What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?' my wife wanted to know.
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
'We don't appear to be making much progress,' I noted.
'It's breech,' my wife whispered, horrified.
'Do something, Dad!' my son urged.
'Okay, okay.'
Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
'Should I call 911?' my eldest daughter wanted to know. 'Maybe they could talk us through the trauma.' (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
'Let's get Ernie to the vet,' I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap.
'Breathe, Ernie, breathe,' he urged.
'I don't think lizards do Lamaze,' his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for goodness sake..)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
'What do you think, Doc, a C-section?' I suggested scientifically.
'Oh, very interesting,' he murmured. 'Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?'
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
'Is Ernie going to be okay?' my wife asked.
'Oh, perfectly,' the vet assured us. 'This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen. Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um... um... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back.' He blushed, glancing at my wife.
We were silent, absorbing this.
'So, Ernie's just - just... excited,' my wife offered.
'Exactly,' the vet replied, relieved that we understood. More silence. Then my vicious, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
'What's so funny?' I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. 'It's just that... I'm picturing you pulling on its... its... teeny little...' She gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
'That's enough,' I warned. We thanked the vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
'I know Ernie's really thankful for what you did, Dad,' he told me.
'Oh, you have NO idea,' my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
Two lizards: $140
One cage: $50
Trip to the vet: $30
Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie: Priceless!
Moral of the story: Pay attention in biology class. Lizards lay eggs! THIS WAS A JOKE. IT DID NOT REALLY HAPPEN.
Please tell me I am not the only one that didn�t give that a thought until the end of the story?
Later,
Cosmic
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yesterday's gone/tomorrow's coming- - 2009-07-27
- - 2009-07-07
- - 2009-06-29
- - 2009-06-26
- - 2009-06-09
MY PERSONAL HEALTH PROGRAM
� kmurray 2007 - 8
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