A Random Act of Mindness

I am not sure any of you know of this thing they have online called "Facebook". Facebook, for those who don't know (yeah, I'm being sarcastic), is this online "social networking" site...many times more like an anti-social networking site, but, nonetheless, it is online and about a billion plus two people are on it at any given moment.

People, being of either the trusting (or more likely, stupid) sort...tend to believe anything you post up there. Just think of it as the "early Wikipedia" of the Internet. Wikipedia, if you don't know (again with the sarcasm), is like a vast encyclopedia of "stuff", which, in its early incarnation...allowed anyone and their cat...to post up "factual information" which people, in turn, assumed was real information and turned right around and would do things like quote from it, copy/paste whole sections of it into their homework, and would "impress" anyone around who would listen to them. Consequently, it was the perfect opportunity for people to reinvent history. And invent they did. Way back when it was a witty person's dream: Think of something, the more plausible sounding the better, and post it up on Wikipedia and sit back and see how fast people start transferring their made up stuff, i.e., convoluted creme de la crap, to their websites and other websites and even more websites. It was fun while it happened. Now they require you to pass some test of fortitude or something in order to post stuff on Wiki...but, if you are imaginative, you can now turn to Facebook.

Sure, it's not posted up there for eons for all to see...it's a fleeting bit of silly...but, as all the world's a stage...I'm going to be a player.

Enter people and those "Random Facts" -- usually posted on background type of card or poster to make it seem "legit". It seems anything you put on a poster type thing will make the rounds no matter how mundane or totally unimaginative it is. So...when I started getting a bunch of these "random facts" showing up in my Facebook screen...I decided I was game...and started making up some of my own.

Half the fun was thinking of something witty, half the fun was trying to make it believable. The last half was sitting back and seeing if anyone commented. Fun was born for a grand total of about three days. Then I decided it was time to move on...but at the risk of never having these seen by more than the three people who bothered commenting on them...I'm packaging them all up and posting them here. Yeah...there's a lot...and I'm doing it because I can -- plus I'm also curious if I repeated any numbers...since I did them all "at random" without having any plan.

Hopefully some are enjoyable...if not, sorry for the huge waste of your time. And because there were much more than I originally thought, I'm going to do a two or three part blog.

It all started out innocently enough with this one:

"Random Fact #27: If you saved up all the grit in your eyes when you wake up, by the time you reach age 75 you could have had a real hobby."

This one was fun because it got people thinking and commenting. I, naturally, added more and more specifications like "...uh...that is citrus" and "...that is yellow" as they kept disproving my fact:

"Random Fact #42: 'Lemon' is the only two-syllable named fruit."

I won't bore you with commentary on each one...so here they are (in half their glory):

"Random Fact 70: The apostrophe was originally written as a comma on the first typewriters. In order for you to make an apostrophe you had to manually adjust the carriage, type the "comma" in the higher placement on the paper and then readjust it back again to continue typing."

"Random Fact 191: Ladies underpants were invented a full 150 years before men's were."

"Random Fact #2: Statistically, because I'm not keeping track, each time I come up with another random fact's number (at random I might add), I'm 11.4 times more likely to use a number I used before."

"Random Fact #90: If $1.00 of each Disneyland/Disneyworld ticket were set aside...in 10 years it would be able to pay off the national debt."

"Random Fact #29: It is widely conjectured that the species of animal responsible for the most puns...is fish. For example: Salmon chanted evening. I did that for the halibut. I need an aspirin because I've got a haddock. Et al."

"Random Fact #57: The Lunar Rover was named after Neil Armstrong's dog."

"Random Fact #23: All English words have been either borrowed or the pronunciation bastardized from foreign words from other countries. No words in the English language, with the exception of those made up by Chaucer, Shakespeare and Snoop Dogg...are English or American in origin."

"Random Fact #92: Contrary to popular belief, Gordon Lightfoot was not that great a dancer."

"Random Fact #71: Approximately 1 in 280 milk cows are born with an extra udder. They are promptly sent to the slaughter house and sold as veal as the automatic milking machines only have four "milker" receptacles. Having a fifth teet makes it impossible to get the proper "suction sequence" going for the machine to work optimally, and therefore the cow will produce less and less milk with each subsequent milking...eventually becoming a "dry" cow. Slaughter not only aids in higher milk production but also ensures this gene abnormality is not passed to the next generation."

"Random Fact #22: The cheapest gas has ever been per gallon was in 1932 at 17 cents. The last time it was 25 cents per gallon (or cheaper) was 1947. Adjusted for inflation, that would be roughly 2.83 and 2.41, respectively. So, the next time someone tells you they remember when gas was "less than a quarter per gallon"...either they are really old...or they are lying."

"Random Fact #81: No one knows how a snail can excrete that much mucous to leave as a trail. Scientific tests speculate the snail's body is like a wick of a humidifier and depending on the humidity level...determines how far it can travel."

"Random Fact #43: Sharks do not have tongues and therefore cannot taste their food until it reaches their stomach...this accounts for the fact most human "prey" is not usually swallowed but spat back up."

"Random Fact #87: The word "garbanzo" as in "garbanzo bean" (otherwise known as the chickpea) means "testicle" in Aztec."

"Random Fact #33: Anthropologists have long deduced the fork evolved from an ordinary stick. It then took the shape of two prongs when mankind realized the stabilizing effect of the dual tine. Mankind further evolved the fork into a three-pronged implement...again further stabilizing the usefulness of the device. Science has proven that four tines is the optimal configuration for an eating implement of that type and that five would be pretty much superfluous. This fact has totally been lost on the razor/shaving industry altho it has been proven that the extra blades are unnessary and do nothing more than give the impression that 'more is better'."

"Random Fact #81: "Bubble Wrap" was invented after a scientist noticed how his foot's blister cushioned the underlying skin from further impact from outside stimuli even when pressed with extreme force."

"Random Fact #55: While most people know the "Guinea Pig" is neither from New Guinea nor a pig...most people do not know they used to only cost one guinea to buy (in England in the 1700s) and, when roasted, smell remarkably like bacon."

"Random Fact #102: A typical five pound bag of grits usually contains 1/2 pound of non-corn-based grit -- mostly road-based and/or the wearing down of antiquated machinery-type grit."

"Random Fact #48: "Global Marketing" is in fact a misnomer as no one ever markets anything for Antarctica really."

"Random Fact #17: Wikipedia was originally a database of Wiccan information and was originally entitled 'Wiccapedia'."

"Random Fact #59: Shakespeare's title for "Love's Labour's Lost" was originally 'Eat Pray Love'."

"Random Fact #27: Scientists have calculated that the temperature would have to dip down to -256 degrees K for Hell to freeze over. Ironically, this is the number of pages in "Dante's Inferno" and exactly the same temperature it takes for the creme inside a Twinkie to solidify fully."

"Random Fact # 31: If you drop a compass from a great height above at the North Pole - the needle will spin erratically until it hits 4,000 feet. This is caused by the interference of the Coriolis Effect on the gravitational pull in the stratosphere. When the compass enters the troposphere...it regains the correct reading."

"Random Fact #2: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was only 4' 8" tall and was the inspiration for the "Munchkins" in L. Frank Baum's "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz". A lifelong feud between the two has typically been said to have produced some of the greatest written material of all time."

"Random Fact #1: No matter what kind of bread...or how expensive your toaster, no one in history has ever had their toast "toasted" correctly on the first try."

"Random Fact #4: You can sing any song to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" except Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody"."

And, on that note...I'll stop until Part II.

"That's not a monster, Mommy...that's YOU!"

Well, my attempts to gain employment in this town have again been shot down and that got me remembering a pre-Christmas silliness I wrote up and posted on Facebook. This got about as much interest there as it will here, but I figured my calendar blog was going to be much better than it was, and it wasn't, so I scrapped that idea; you will get this one instead. This was "inspired" by countless Facebook "friends" sharing their "oh-so-talented" kids' drawings with one another -- and then their friends "oohing" and "aahing" over them -- sounding about as genuine as a porn film starlet.

In my world (which is about as wide as my sofa)...this would be the perfect job for me until some ad agency scoops me up right before I get hired to write my novel...



For a limited time only I will critique your child's artwork or story they've made up. The cost will be $10.00 for three; yep, you heard it right...THREE pieces of artwork and/or stories. Two stories and one drawing of the outside of the house with your whole family standing outside? No problem. Three stories...even if written in crayon -- heck, I'll take them all on.

As the 2003 winner of the "Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest", I feel I am more than qualified to do the writing portion - and as I've been attempting (not attempting very well, mind you) to be a docent at the art museum here...I also have some qualifications for that as well.

Afraid that your little Chagall or Michelangelo is only a three-year-old kid and not a protege? Do you want the validation to NOT have to stick that piece of crap they call "art" up on your fridge? Well, scan them and I'll do it for you. I will give you an entire write-up telling you my feelings...from a realistic and completely unbiased opinion standpoint.

If your son is more J. K. Cringing than J. K. Rowling...I'll be the one to let the hammer fall - and you can walk away with a clear conscience. You won't be disappointed in yourself when you hear those muffled sobs coming from the bedroom...because you will know you honestly didn't just break your little "writer's" dream -- I did.

So, again...this is a limited time offer - the price gets bumped back up to $5.00 each after the 1st of the year. Take advantage of our "Before Christmas Plan" -- a personalized lovely letter (sent by me) with gold stickers and happy faces all over it if your child has any talent whatsoever. Your little one will be running to check the "real" mail each day to see if their envelope has a "Mr. Happy" or "Mr. Yuk!" sticker on it. Either way, you'll thank me...plus they'll get exercise...OUTSIDE!

It's a win-win situation for all!

What the Dickens?

When I was a young, whenever I got slightly out of hand, my mother would say, "Oh, you little Dickens, you!" Now, I still have no inkling where that phrase originated...I'd like to think it has something to do with the unruly children in Dickens' novels...but a search on Google will probably ruin it for me...so I'll remain none the wiser and keep the mystery going.

Another mystery to me, is why, on the 30th of January, I started posting up my versions of Dickensian Facebook update statuses. Certainly it had something to do with the fact I finally got around to watching "Great Expectations" (the 1946 version) a day or two earlier. But, truth be told, I did have this film recorded for about six months, so it wasn't like it was "Dickens Week" on the TCM channel or anything.

I must say, however, that I could not have timed it any better...because today just so happens to be the 200th birthday of Charles Dickens.

The premise for most of this is self-explanatory...but, in case it's not...I basically updated my Facebook status...but with a twist (pun intended): I "penned" them in the manner of what I envisioned Dickens' characters would say...if they were thrust into today's society...and doing their own Facebook updates. Hopefully you will find some of them mildly amusing...and if not...well, a solemn egad to you, sir!


It all started late the evening of January 30th...and into the early morning of the 31st...and yes, I try to be silly on purpose on Facebook. To me, everything on Facebook is just fodder for a writing gig for a future comedy show...the key is timing it right so someone sees it and is willing to hire me. Unfortunately, I haven't yet found that key. Anyway...I was in a silly mood and it started like this. (Be forewarned, these are only my comments...I removed everyone else's...to respect their "privacy". Oh, yeah, right...they are ON Facebook...there is NO SUCH THING as privacy anymore. By the way, I left typos in...it lends an air of authenticity that way.)

Wondering about the lost works of Dickens...like "A Christmas Bob", "A Christmas Ted", and "A Christmas Alice".

I was thinking that I should start doing Dickens type books. I mean it's about time someone does that again. I have to put dandy guys in it and foppish rogues. Is that okay to do or just too old a concept?

(Removed comments here.)

"Lines in my proposed new Dickensonian novel:

"I dare say, Mr. Slipwort, your buttocks peering out like a timid doormouse owing to the fact your trousers are lower than your waistcoat...is more than mildly arousing to a young man of my demeanour."

(More removed comments here.)

"ROFL Nothing actually. I watched "Great Expectations" last nite and thought how we really should talk more like that. It would really make people just stare."

(Yep...comments...yadda yadda...)

"You come to me, lad, with the countenance of someone much more refined than yourself and with some reservation, attempt to beg my forgiveness for indiscretions heretofore dispensed...and ask for more text minutes? A solemn egad to you, sir."

(This is where someone stated they were going to use "A solemn egad to you, sir" in their conversations the next day. I was, needless to say, honoured.)

(Then it kinda morphed from Dickens to Shakespeare.)

"It is with some foreboding that an item of particular interest was shown to me under the guise of a fictitious nom de plume...and interspersed among a certain morally corrupt group gathered in society known to assist in the dissemination of such correspondence with the words "I am soooo stealing this!" attached and then, with a click, dispatched thusly."

But...I'm still wondering why the whole thing surfaced in my head right before his 200th birthday. I'd like to think it's some type of a good sign...perhaps I'm actually channeling Dickens? (And not in the TCM kind of way.)

Okay, so maybe it's not up to par with the last thing he ever wrote...but he's been out of practice, so cut him a break.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Dickens...gone, but certainly never to be forgotten.

Driven to Tears

Every time I go into Montgomery, I see Eric...every time I drive up to Maxwell Air Force Base I see Joe and "Momma". Oh, I've never spoken to any of them...but I wonder about them every single time I pass by -- and I wonder how many other people do as well.

I don't know anything about these people yet they touch me...they've even brought me to tears...in fact, I'm crying right now.

"How can some people I've never met and know nothing about bring about such emotion in me?" you might be asking yourself...in fact, it might sound like it makes no sense whatsoever; but to me...and undoubtedly to some others, it does.

You see, I "see" Eric on the median strip of Eastern Boulevard; I assume proudly displaying some type of medal he won. I've never stopped my car to go up close enough to make out what it is...and, again, I've wondered -- about it -- and him. I "see" Joe and "Momma" on the Northern Boulevard, up a couple miles on the right after I merge onto it from Route 231.

I've never really "seen" them...what I see are what many people see every day: Roadside Memorials.

You know, you've seen them (not necessarily Eric, Joe and "Momma", but countless others like them)...roadside testimonials, erected by caring individuals, to signify where their loved ones lost their lives. Sometimes they are well kept up...other times, they fall into a state of disrepair...the cross' paint eroding at the edges and the faded flowers hanging by only a fragile thread; this "fragile thread" is...really all that separates us from their fate.

I've read, years ago, about some states or counties considering banning these markers. "They're too difficult to mow around" and "They're distractions"...were only a couple of the excuses the townships made in their defense...and while I can understand a huge mowing machine trying to delicately negotiate around them, it seems they do. I sense an immense reverence for them -- and for every worker out there who has taken the extra time to meticulously mow around these, I thank you.

There is also debate as to whether these are really distractions or do they, even for a very short while, make drivers take note and slow down...realizing the precious loss of life could easily be their own. A barely audible "There but for the grace of God, go I." mumbled under some passersby's breath -- or do people blindly pass them by...just a blur...a tiny, insignificant billboard they mindlessly catch out the corner of their eye?

I'd like to think they don't. I'd like to think they pause to remember someone they never got the opportunity...to remember.

And to Eric, Joe, "Momma" and all the others I've passed by over the years, I might not ever know you or your stories, but...you are definitely not forgotten.

My Theory #1: Depression

"Modern Times" (1936) with Charles Chaplin and Paulette Goddard...the final scene where he tells her to "smile"...this is also Charles Chaplin's last silent film.

I have been thinking and thinking about why I've been so blah and depressed and have no energy for what seems like years now. And other than the obvious reason -- long, pre-divorce situation, and my health...I've decided there are things I used to do in my past which made me happy...that I don't do anymore.

1) Cook. I used to always get Gourmet magazine and before that one, Cuisine magazine - ever since I was 16 years old. I haven't gotten any sent to me in a couple years...and now I have no desire to cook. Sure, I love Epicurious.com - but, the mouth-watering photos you see in a real, honest to goodness magazine...can't be found "paging" thru some website. So, I'm going to start up another subscription.

2) Read Vogue magazine. For years and years - probably ever since I was about 15...I had a subscription to Vogue...and I always put on make-up and was impeccably dressed. Sure, I live in crappy Alabama and it's not the same as NJ...which is next to NY...and that, being the fashion capital of the world...knew how to dress -- but, I don't put a face on anymore and I dress like a better-than-average sloburbinite...so I'm going to start up a subscription.

3) Watch funny sit-coms on television. I used to watch hilarious sit-coms...you know, back when they had this thing called "writers"...and they used to pay these things called "actors" to be funny and read the scripts. For instance, the shows "Soap", "Taxi", "Cheers", "Seinfeld" and "Frasier"...now it's just a sea of endless crap on -- and all I watch are documentaries and old films on Turner Classic Movies...which isn't bad at all...but, late at nite I find myself watching icky things like "Unsolved Nasty-ass Crimes Upon Humanity" where they go into detail of the brutal killing of innocent people - and show graphic things and display graphic warnings about the soon-to-be-shown graphic imagery. And then I read the "horror killing of the day" on the news...which always tells you about some mother or father murdering their child in a more horrible way than the one the day prior. So, all I do...is get spoon-fed misery. I want to laugh again. I find myself not even watching Letterman or Craig Ferguson...both of whom I laugh at. I just sit here and probably think horrific things in my subconscious...and get more and more depressed...because the news is constantly shelling out dismality (is that a word - if not, it should be)...and I don't laugh...and laughter, unlike Xanax, is probably really the best medicine after all.

I'll keep you up-to-date if it's working...at least it's cheaper than therapy.

Top Ten Things That Have Been Bugging Me

I've not written a blog in a while. I've not even tried.

It's my fault - I start doing other things like playing this online fake Scrabble game, or I sit around the house watching television, or I sit around wasting time on Facebook, or I sit around the house making up excuses...and then I get mad for not being scooped up by a prominent publishing house or movie studio, and I whine silently to a few of my friends (not so silently).

But, hey, it's the new year...time to put my aging butt in gear, right?

So, I sat and I thought and thought...or more like laid there and thought and thought...and I am drawing blanks left and right. I've come to the conclusion that nearly everything you can bring up, I've done some form of it in a blog already. Maybe I used up all my ideas...so I came up with this one instead...so be gentle as I know it's not going to be one of my best efforts.


A few things that have been rattling around in my brain...yes, they are in no order. So, let's just think of them as my "Top Ten Things That Have Bugged Me"...they aren't meant to be witty or funny...so if you're anticipating that, you'll be let down.

10. The 2011 Christmas "Doctor Who" show. C'mon Stephen Moffat...I waited like six months to see that??? I know you are capable of much better. I'd venture to say I'm capable of much better. Give me a shot, will ya? I'm older than you - respect your elders...hire me. I'll even do it for free...give me a friggen shot, okay? Please?

9. "Saturday Night Live", David Letterman, Craig Ferguson, hell, even Jay Leno...see #10 (only vary it to fit you)...a shot? Please? For free first - THEN you can hire me or fire me. Just one tiny little shot...that's all I'm asking. Oprah? Donald Trump? Rosie?? Someone?

8. To the "Dasani" water people (aka the "Coke" people) and the "Chick-Fil-A" people on Eastern Blvd in Montgomery, Alabama: You know what you did...it's been what, three years?? At least pay up for the Emergency Room visit already. (Yeah...I should write a blog about this - it's long so I can't put it here.)

7. You "Jersey" shows on television: I'm FROM Jersey...I never knew anyone who was like that in Jersey...stop making me seem like an idiot so no one hires me. Or hire me yourself...I promise I can be the idiot you are looking for in a writer.

6. Just to let everyone know...saggy boobs are "in" this year.

5. I didn't talk to my mother enough and I talked to her every single day. I should have written things down...the memories of what she told me of her youth in Belgium are getting muddy and I can't remember her voice so much. For everyone with a loved one...pay attention. Everyone tells you to pay attention and you don't realize they are right until after it's too late. My mother knew I loved her so I don't have to worry about that...but I miss the most stupid things...like the way she pronounced "Post Office"...and no one will ever say it like her again in my life. Ever.

4. All the people on those "person specific" news shows...like on CNN: STOP SHOUTING! If I can't hear you, I'll turn up the volume. Sheesh!

3. One day all you mean people will get your comeuppance. Personally, I'd like that day to be tomorrow.

2. Human beings should live longer...and have a nice exoskeleton so we're more impervious to the elements, like car crashes, bullets and crazy people in Walmart.

1. I know people believe in reading the Bible and things...like prayers. I have no issue with that whatsoever. However, I do have an issue with two things about that: a) Don't just memorize a dinner prayer if you're going to pray twice a year (you C&E people can relate)...make it come from the heart...make one up on the spot; somehow I don't think God will get mad if you improvise. b) That child's prayer which goes: "Now I lay me down to sleep...I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake...I pray the Lord my soul to take." That single-handedly creeped me out my entire life. Seriously...just think of an innocent child who has no concept of death yet...reading this. Now think of that same child a few years later, with a vague concept of death. This isn't so much a prayer anymore as it is a warning -- a good haunting one when you're just about to drift off to sleep: An 'Ooops...guess we forgot to mention it, Jimmy...God sends his boogeyman to take your soul at night while you're sleeping sometimes." I'm sorry...but this needs to be totally rethought out. It's not at all comforting and it's very, very, very scary. In fact, it's almost as scary as that first "Doctor Who" Weeping Angels episode Stephen Moffat wrote.

And with that...I've come full circle. "Happy 2012" everyone! :)

Foreign Thoughts

Okay - first off, I am not a racist, nor someone who jumps to any type of conclusions about what you eat, what you watch, which church you go to, who you sleep with, what politician you like, how attractive you are, what your weight is, etc. Basically if you are nice to me - I'll be nice back and I don't care if you are pink, purple, beige, blue, brown, yellow, or orange. I really don't mind. I never have.

But tonite, after stopping at Starbucks to get my daughter a mochachocolatte, there were two men outside the building conversing with a foreign accent...speaking a foreign language. One was younger...the other about 20 years older. I don't know what language they were speaking - coulda been Arabic, coulda been Serbian...didn't sound Swedish and it certainly wasn't French or Spanish.

The bad thing is - I got into my car and mentioned to my daughter something about "Hope they're not terrorists." It wasn't exactly that - but it was along those lines. Then I stopped myself and told her how incredibly bad it was that I was thinking that...just based on the fact they were two men of a nationality which undoubtedly gets a lot of suspicious glances nowadays, i.e., they didn't look like the blonde guys who sang that "Take On Me" song.

Ordinarily I wouldn't have thought this - I grew up in Jersey - and many people were of Polish, Italian, and whatnot descent. I just kinda disgusted myself and wanted to share. How terrible it is to automatically think terrible thoughts because I've been conditioned by the media to fear someone who looks a certain way. Granted, terrorists did some heinous crimes and I don't discount those...but, to think that of these two guys outside a Starbucks just because they are "different" from me...just annoys me.

I grew up in a time (I was born in 1960) where the 1970s saw its share of plane hijackings, bombings in airports and the horrible massacre of Olympic athletes during the 1972 Munich games. I can never remove the image (or the name) of ABC news reporter, Bill Stewart, forced to kneel on the ground after being pulled from a van and then shot in the head. Why I have that one etched into my memory is beyond me. I guess it was because it was shown over and over on television at the time...and the shock of seeing a life one second and a death the next...has stayed with me. Just like images of people jumping out of the World Trade Center buildings...it's not something you can just erase.

And now I can't erase this impulse thinking I have in my head...and what was probably a pleasant conversation outside a coffee shop makes me anxious and I hope and pray nothing bad was actually going on.

That...to me...is sad.

And to those two men -- I apologize.

The Waiting Game

Another half-hour spent isolated in the "patient room" at the doctor's office again.

I don't know if you've made the observation that all the magazines are typically in the waiting room -- and, if you don't tag one along when you get called in the "patient room"...chances are you are left alone to sit and stare at your "temporary lodgings" for the next 30 minutes or so.

I don't know about you...but my mind goes like this:

Read anatomical posters first.

Depending on how in-depth they are and which doctor you are seeing - this can be most rewarding. For example, I pretty much know where all my internal organs lie and I also know that "Circle of Willis" thing in my brain...looks like a tiny alien.

But most times it's a bust. Plus some of these posters have lost their vivid colours and have been on the walls since 1982. Not that our body parts have shifted or mutated into anything remotely Darwinian-ish...just saying a new shiny poster without the frayed and/or missing edges and without the 23 thumb-tack holes...is probably long overdue.

There's only so much staring you can do at the posters of otitis media or the cutaway eye one. "Yep, that's an eye. And that's one with glaucoma. That's an eye with a stye...and that's what various stages of conjunctivitis looks like when you have no skin surrounding your eye."

Bored...bored...bored.

I then progress to reading the pamphlets (not all offices have these mind you - the eye doctor's office is the best place if you want to brush up on short stories featuring the eyeball).

From this fascinating foray into the "short story medical" genre, I have come to the conclusion I now know almost as much about Crohn's Disease and IBS as the people who wrote those things...and my ability to spot a "floater" is phenomenal. (Oh, c'mon...I was talking about the EYE...seriously...you should be ashamed of yourselves.) I also know all about Macular Degeneration ...and how to treat dry eyes.

The next stage on my journey inside the "little room" begins with the picking up of...and prerequisite dismantling of...the plastic models. Putting them back together as I found them is sometimes more challenging...but most times I just resort to childish hi-jinks.

Anyone with half a brain (and I've dismantled that model as well)...can put them back together...but it takes a really bored genius to put them back...creatively.

I'm not proud to admit that I put the "normal thyroid butterfly" in the "Grave's Disease" spot...and I've switched the normal rubber prostate "feel for yourself" exam helper with the abnormal one.

I am nearly shaking my head in abject shame as I type.

I often wonder if they change them all back around to their proper locations after I leave...or if they stay that way until someone inadvertently puts them back in correct placement because they were as bored as I was that day. I also wonder if they red flag you as a "switcher" and annotate it in your records.

Usually, by this time, the doctor comes in...but I've actually had to wait much, much longer on some occasions...and this is the part in my visit where I get downright creepy.

You know how they have the wooden tongue depressors, the little rubber hammer, the extraordinarily long Q-tips, and those drawers they keep unlocked?

Well, my imagination starts roaming around as my eyes dart from place to place and object to object...and I start wondering how many people might have skipped touching that take-apart eye "toy" and made a bee-line over to the rack of assorted eye-drop vials instead. If you pay close attention - those things are just too tempting for anyone who always wanted...but never got...a chemistry kit when they were a kid.

I've visions of rude and moronic people licking the eyedroppers -- putting a couple drops of one eye solution into the other...and switching all the stoppers around.

"Ooooh...an irrigation device...I wonder if it fits in HERE..."

I mean, unless there's a camera in that little private room of yours...how'd anyone know?

I guess it all boils down to the fact that I'd really hate to be swabbed with the giant Q-tip the guy before me used to relieve an itch. I honestly don't want them to use anything on me that doesn't walk in with the doctor or nurse...or that doesn't come out of some locked-up cabinet.

Face it, if I think these things -- someone else has undoubtedly done them...or is seriously thinking about doing them.

I just hope and pray their appointment is AFTER mine.

Volunteering the "Old-Fashioned" Way

This was a proposed article for the Montgomery Advertiser which I wrote (but never used) back in August 2010. I'm not sure how current it is now...certainly his age and the original time-frame has changed. I decided to post it up as a blog for two reasons: This man met with me and spent a couple hours hoping to get some publicity for Fort Toulouse and for what all these volunteers do...and also because Fort Toulouse's "Frontier Days" is going on now until the 6th of November. Please check the website link at the end of my article for more information.

Everyone's heard the phrase "history repeats itself", but for 52 year-old Michael McCreedy, it really does.

Since 1988, McCreedy has been actively re-enacting a by-gone period, donning clothes of another era and making history come alive for countless Fort Toulouse visitors to witness. And he does all this voluntarily.

I sat down with him the other day to get an "insider-look from the outside" as I've always been fascinated about history.

First off, I was told I really shouldn't say "re-enacting". The participants prefer the term "living history" for what they do, and "historical interpreters" for who they are.

Secondly, I was not aware most of these portrayals are based on actual people; so when a historical interpreter chooses a name from the list, they are literally adopting the attitude, mannerisms and persona of a real individual who once lived at or visited Fort Toulouse in the 1700s.

"Most people who do this had a love of history early on." McCreedy stated, "For me it was the childhood trips with my family from San Diego to visit my grandparents in Montgomery and stopping at various historical sites along the way."

Of course if you have a mother who is interested in genealogy and volunteers at the Archives and History Department's "research room", as he does, history already seems to be in his blood. In fact, for the past three years, McCreedy has delved into his own Scot Clan lineage by "becoming" Lachlin MacGillivray, Highland Scot trader and interpreter to Britain's King George II. Prior to this recent change of sides, he spent 19 years as a French Colonial Marine.

McCreedy contends the reason he and countless others volunteer their time is because they have a true passion for what they do, enjoy the educational aspects of it, and also because it's fun. "Everyone dies, they come back to life, you get to do it all over again, then you get to have a beer." McCreedy quipped.

While volunteers don't get paid, they do have to outfit themselves with the proper gear. They actually have "loaner clothes" for those who want to try it out, but these clothes can only be used for a short period of time; after that, you have to buy or trade things to get your own uniform, shoes and musket.

McCreedy's initial expense, about twenty years ago, was $1000 on a musket (he points out these firearms aren't "guns", they are classified as "working antique replicas" as per the Gun Control Act of 1968), and another $800 for the uniform. So, while this is not an inexpensive hobby, fortunately most people find out relatively early on whether or not this is something they want to pursue. McCreedy remarked, "If a person sticks with it for the probationary one-year period, and they like us, and we like them, they are voted in.

But don't get any fancy ideas of showing up with a Commandant's uniform and thinking you're going to run the place. While there are promotions, typically new historical interpreters at Fort Toulouse start at the bottom.

Considering McCreedy was a cook, a French Marine and now a prosperous fur trader in his twenty-two years of interpreting living history, he definitely earned his promotions among the volunteer ranks.

In his present-day life, McCreedy is the Executive Director at "The F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald Museum" in Montgomery and is working on getting his Master's Degree in History. He hopes one day to become a historical advisor for film or television.

Just to put this in a "sum it all up" perspective, McCreedy figures that over the course of his twenty-two years of volunteering, 13 months of his life was actually spent "living in the eighteenth century".

This is indeed quite an amazing feat which only a dedicated few can say they've accomplished. Seems historical interpreters get the best of both worlds: reliving old history while all around them new history is being made ever day.

How can you get into the "act"? Please go to http://www.forttoulouse.com/ or call 334-567-3002. They'll be more than happy to explain to you how you can get involved.

NaNoWriMo aka "No, it's not Orkan"

It's no big surprise that I'd love to be a "real live writer"...you know, one that gets paid and can count up the words and divide them to see just how much money each one of them made -- kinda like the really rich sports people and how much they get paid per game...or hit...depending on which sport you're calculating.

Anyway, I am not a quilter...I'm not a cookie-baking mom...and I'm not a coffee-klatch type of person, partly because I detest the smell and taste of coffee...but mainly because I'm not going to go and hang out with perky early-risers and shoot the breeze about things like quilting or Girl Scouts.

I have no family really and certainly none around here...being that I'm a Jersey chick doesn't help in the grand scheme of things as, if you're not aware, the Montgomery area seems very cliquey...the women much more so than the men...and my seventh circle of Hell was drawn in the sand by someone with a cheerleader mom mentality. (If you are a nice cheerleader mom...disregard that previous comment...if you aren't, you know exactly what I mean and you do it all the time...and it's not nice.)

So, here I sit. I sit here. I sit here and type...hoping one day the words will miraculously string together in some sort of profitable fashion like they have done for J.K. Rowling and Stephen King...and all the others who rank in their...well, ranks.

I sit, sit, sit (like Dr. Suess might have said)...and I get discouraged for lots of reasons -- but one main one is I don't have a lot of encouragement to write. Having a loving relationship with a spouse or significant other probably helps many of these unknown writers get known...but I have neither.

While my two children prod me once in a while, saying things like "Uh, why don't you write that book already" and "Um, why don't you write that book already"...it's clearly not the motivating factor that's working for me.

Consequently, about six or so months ago I joined some Alabama Writer's Guild or Group or Gathering or some type of what I undoubtedly initially perceived as a "Mutual Admiration Society"-type of thing. Well, it turned out to be a dud. Neither are they admiring anything nor are they being very mutual. I've gotten one monthly email from them - and unless I travel to Birmingham or Fairhope to go munch on a sandwich with them at the nearly ungodly hour of noon (factor in drive time)...well, I'm back to where I've always been...

...sit, sit, sit.

Then, the other day, flipping through the virtual pages of the Montgomery Advertiser's website, I happened upon something called the "National Novel Writing Month" - and lo and behold they're having a meeting in MY town and it's not at 8:00 a.m. It's not even noon. It's going to be at 6:30 - and that's p.m. That's "Post Meridiam"...or, as I refer to it: "Prime Morning".

I'm hoping I will find an "in town writing buddy" - and we can encourage each other to write. And I'm hoping it will last more than a month.

The reason I say that is because this event challenges you to write a novel in a month...hence that "November" in the title.

While I'm sure many novels were written in a month's time...I'm sure most weren't...and that's where MY encouragement and challenge goes out to my online writer friends who have much more potential than I think they imagine. And you know who you are -- Mark, Chris, Sully, Mike, etc., etc.

I'm asking if they will consider joining in with me...or at least checking out the website at www.nanowrimo.org -- to see what it's all about. Plus one day I really, really want to read your books. I want you to sign them and send them to me...and I want you to introduce me to your editor -- but...only after I introduce you to MINE. ;)

So, with notebook and pen in hand and no laptop in sight, I will venture this Tuesday to "Books-A-Million" where this kick-off meeting will be held...and...

...even though there's going to be coffee involved...no one's going to force me to drink it.

And with that, I just brought it back full "circle". ;)

What Would You Have Done?

So, I'm on Facebook tonite...and coupled with the usual silliness and celebrity games/antics (yes, I am now a "friend" of people like Justin Bateman, Paul Rudd, James Franco [altho he did "unfriend" me], Bruce Willis and George Clooney) I ran across a most disturbing post this evening.

A person, let's just call her "Sandy Chatfield", had posted up something which a friend of mine (whom I never talk to - but, you know, everyone's a friend on Facebook) had commented to - which caught my attention. My friend commented "Please someone, go over to her house. Make sure she is ok."

This, naturally, caught my eye as it was scrolling by - and I decided to "click" on what transpired for her to say such a thing. Face it, we've all heard of people killing themselves online...and/or reaching out online for some type of intervention.

I took this as a sign from God...perhaps God wants me to intervene somehow - otherwise I probably wouldn't have seen it at the exact second it was scrolling past - but now I have...and I can't turn a blind eye to it. If this woman shows up dead tomorrow and the list of comments from people such as "I tried to call her and she's not answering...does anyone know her address?" goes nowhere and I'm somehow a cog that gets the gears rolling to stop this...well, I'm going to do what I can to make sure that happens.

With me still?

Anyway, I am not allowed to comment on her Facebook page because I'm not her "friend". So, either I sit and watch as time goes by and everyone isn't taking the action they should and this lady possibly dies...or I dive right in and get involved and say "at least I tried".

I decided to go with the "at least I tried" route. I won't have someone's death on my conscience...even IF I don't know that person.

I private message'd a few of the responders to her initial post...and for the record, no one has messaged me back..even tho it's been a few hours.

Now, bear in mind I'm sitting at home doing homely duties like making dinner and looking forward to a nice glass of wine...while this "plea for help" comes ticking across my otherwise mundane and stupid Facebook page.

Her message read as follows:

"Bye my friends!!! I am done with games etc,,,, about done with everything in life. So tired of trying so hard to get nowhere. It is time for a really long nap!....A very long one!! Love you my friends and angels on your pillows"

This is followed by a couple posts by her friends and then the following exchanges by her:

"so tired of everything honey!"

"Don't think I will wake up!"

Then absolute "radio" silence for an hour or so (and about 100 posts later) while her friends frantically try to call her, scurry around trying to find an address to go with a cell phone number, call the police to no avail, and plead with her to answer, when...finally, this woman comes back online and chortles, "Hey!!!! not trying to kill myself!!! feel like it but It is not my nature!!! Why is everyone thinking this>>>" and "What did I say that makes you think I would end y life???"

Her friends then try to justify their concerns while she is in total "huh...I don't get it" mode.

Then she proceeds to cuss out the person who sent the police around to her door as, according to her, they came by to make sure she was okay. This specific post of hers is now gone as she deleted it -- so I can't quote it verbatim...but it had the words "...to the person who called the police, **** YOU!!" -- or along those same general "grateful" lines.

All I can say is...if she were my friend and played this game...she wouldn't be my friend now. Talk about someone who is appreciative that someone cares, huh? And not just one person cared - but a whole slew of them. Hell, I'd be dead now waiting for Bruce Willis to respond back.

So, I'm wondering now if this was just a silly Facebook hoax she was playing...or if it was real...and if the players in the whole episode are real or if they were just part of some stupid larger scheme to see if someone would take it all seriously. I'm not going to waste any more of my time on someone who "cries wolf" on Facebook to illicit a response.

I wasted upwards of an hour on this woman trying to save her life. I was one step away from calling the Las Vegas police department on more than one occasion in that hour. I Googled, I found an address, I mailed that address to several of her "friends" who posted there, I stopped short of contacting a child she had listed as a family member to see if they could call to make sure she was alive. She basically put me through hell for an hour. Me...someone who will never know her...someone who cared enough to try to make a difference...for her and those around her who might actually care and love her.

I know the odds of this woman ever reading this blog is pretty much nil, but if, somehow, she does...I want to leave her with this thought: If this wasn't a sick game...choose your words much more carefully next time, and if it was...remember those choice words you deleted? I've got a couple for you, "...you, too".

(This was written last nite...but not posted until today.)