Today is just a quickie.. those are good once in a while, right?
Just wanted to wish you all a Happy Thanksgiving. Pull up a chair and have a slice of pie.
A lot of cynical people out there think that Thanksgiving represents gluttony and football. Well yeah, duh. That's part of it for sure, but it's much more than that. It's a day we set aside to give thanks for everything we have and all that we are as as people and a culture. Traditions for the holiday run deep through all of us and we all have some fond memories of Thanksgivings past. The people and locations may change, the meals might be just a little more healthier than they used to be, but in the end we're all celebrating together, making new memories. It's about family and friends getting together and spending the day appreciating the people near and far that we share our lives with, missing those we have lost and being thankful for everything that we have and that we share.
Sharing. Sharing our lives, our love and our bounty. Individually, we may not have much, but bring it all together and we all have a feast.
So thank you for stopping by and sharing this with me. I'd so let you have the drumstick if you wanted it. Paws off that thigh though, that sucker's mine.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
More Random Thoughts
Ok, so I felt like writing, but don't really have a specific topic in mind. Since when has that ever stopped me? I suppose I really should start numbering these "random thoughts" posts, but meh, that's a topic for another post.
--
Thanksgiving (in the US) tomorrow. We're all piling in the car and going to my sister in-law's house for the big feast. It's nice in that we get to hang with all the local family for the day and we don't have to cook. However, that puts a serious crimp on one of my simple pleasures, the leftover turkey sandwiches over the duration of the weekend. Remedy? Another feast scheduled for Saturday. Just us. At home. All the leftovers I want. Still have to cook.
--
Speaking of cooking, I have been on a quest of late. I want a waffle iron. No, really. I want a waffle iron. Why are they so hard to find? I suppose I should clarify... I want a REAL waffle iron, not a Belgian waffle iron. I want my waffles to have lots of little hickeys, not a handful of huge ones. You know, like Eggo waffles. Like the ones mom used to make. Saw one at the thrift store the other day, looked like it was from the 1950s, the handle was broken and it had a cloth power cord. I almost bought it. The old ones are cool because you could actually take the plates off to WASH THEM. You could also flip them over and lay the unit fully open to use it as a griddle. They were awesome! Why don't they make them like that anymore? Progress. Meh.
--
Black Friday is coming and I want to put this out there for those of you who will be standing around outside your favorite store impatiently waiting for it to open early. Give the employees a break. If you've never seen what your typical department store looks like during the overnight restocking process, you'd be amazed. That's just on a normal night. Thanksgiving night is that x2.
First of all, you know how it goes. You pigged out on turkey and all the trimmings, you've cleaned up the dishes and you're struggling to get your ass off the couch to go grab another slice of pie. Now imagine having to get up and go to work. All night. To make things even more fun, not only do they have to do all the work they normally do on any given night, they also have to help set up special displays for "doorbuster" deals, arrange and prepare stock in the back so daytime employees can keep a steady stream of product going to the floor, and get it all done EARLY. More work, less time, all kinds of fun. Then there are the daytime employees, they start streaming in early and put the finishing touches on displays, unbox and prepare stacks of product and try to get everything ready.
Then the doors open and all hell breaks loose.
Most people don't realize this, but some stores will see more business in the first HOUR of Black Friday than they'll see in an average DAY. Some stores do more business on BF than they do in an average week, or a month even. That's why its called "Black Friday" - most stores ledger sheets don't show a profit for the year until that day.
If it's in the store they want to sell it to you. If they say they are out, they are OUT. There's no more in the back, they don't have to go look. They're not saving anything for the employees.. more than likely they had to punch out and go stand in line with you to get back in. Yes really.
--
It's starting to feel like winter in Minnesota. Not that I'm happy about it mind you, but with the way this winter started, back in the middle of October, I figured we'd be ass-deep in snow by now. Instead, it got surprisingly pleasant for a few weeks. Now it's getting colder and they're talking about snow tonight.
Here in the northern US, a favorite phrase of tv weatherpeople is something along the lines of "a big push of cold air coming down from Canada." I wonder what Canadian weatherpeople say? Who do they blame for their cold air? The north pole? Siberia? Mars? As far as I'm concerned, it's all theirs and they can keep it, please and thank you. :-)
--
And finally, speaking of Canada... I'm finding myself hooked by a show made there called "How It's Made" - This show is brilliant. It's on one of those brainy cable channels like The Science Channel or something and it's just wonderful. Each show focuses on 3 things, they are COMPLETELY random, and shows step-by-step how each is made. When I say random, I mean random. Like one show can have running shoes, light bulbs and corn flakes. The next could be truck tires, baseball bats and stuffed animals. Look it up and check it out.
*whew* I think I got my writing bug taken care of. If you made it this far, thank you. The next one will be more focused. I hope.
--
Thanksgiving (in the US) tomorrow. We're all piling in the car and going to my sister in-law's house for the big feast. It's nice in that we get to hang with all the local family for the day and we don't have to cook. However, that puts a serious crimp on one of my simple pleasures, the leftover turkey sandwiches over the duration of the weekend. Remedy? Another feast scheduled for Saturday. Just us. At home. All the leftovers I want. Still have to cook.
--
Speaking of cooking, I have been on a quest of late. I want a waffle iron. No, really. I want a waffle iron. Why are they so hard to find? I suppose I should clarify... I want a REAL waffle iron, not a Belgian waffle iron. I want my waffles to have lots of little hickeys, not a handful of huge ones. You know, like Eggo waffles. Like the ones mom used to make. Saw one at the thrift store the other day, looked like it was from the 1950s, the handle was broken and it had a cloth power cord. I almost bought it. The old ones are cool because you could actually take the plates off to WASH THEM. You could also flip them over and lay the unit fully open to use it as a griddle. They were awesome! Why don't they make them like that anymore? Progress. Meh.
--
Black Friday is coming and I want to put this out there for those of you who will be standing around outside your favorite store impatiently waiting for it to open early. Give the employees a break. If you've never seen what your typical department store looks like during the overnight restocking process, you'd be amazed. That's just on a normal night. Thanksgiving night is that x2.
First of all, you know how it goes. You pigged out on turkey and all the trimmings, you've cleaned up the dishes and you're struggling to get your ass off the couch to go grab another slice of pie. Now imagine having to get up and go to work. All night. To make things even more fun, not only do they have to do all the work they normally do on any given night, they also have to help set up special displays for "doorbuster" deals, arrange and prepare stock in the back so daytime employees can keep a steady stream of product going to the floor, and get it all done EARLY. More work, less time, all kinds of fun. Then there are the daytime employees, they start streaming in early and put the finishing touches on displays, unbox and prepare stacks of product and try to get everything ready.
Then the doors open and all hell breaks loose.
Most people don't realize this, but some stores will see more business in the first HOUR of Black Friday than they'll see in an average DAY. Some stores do more business on BF than they do in an average week, or a month even. That's why its called "Black Friday" - most stores ledger sheets don't show a profit for the year until that day.
If it's in the store they want to sell it to you. If they say they are out, they are OUT. There's no more in the back, they don't have to go look. They're not saving anything for the employees.. more than likely they had to punch out and go stand in line with you to get back in. Yes really.
--
It's starting to feel like winter in Minnesota. Not that I'm happy about it mind you, but with the way this winter started, back in the middle of October, I figured we'd be ass-deep in snow by now. Instead, it got surprisingly pleasant for a few weeks. Now it's getting colder and they're talking about snow tonight.
Here in the northern US, a favorite phrase of tv weatherpeople is something along the lines of "a big push of cold air coming down from Canada." I wonder what Canadian weatherpeople say? Who do they blame for their cold air? The north pole? Siberia? Mars? As far as I'm concerned, it's all theirs and they can keep it, please and thank you. :-)
--
And finally, speaking of Canada... I'm finding myself hooked by a show made there called "How It's Made" - This show is brilliant. It's on one of those brainy cable channels like The Science Channel or something and it's just wonderful. Each show focuses on 3 things, they are COMPLETELY random, and shows step-by-step how each is made. When I say random, I mean random. Like one show can have running shoes, light bulbs and corn flakes. The next could be truck tires, baseball bats and stuffed animals. Look it up and check it out.
*whew* I think I got my writing bug taken care of. If you made it this far, thank you. The next one will be more focused. I hope.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Selective Memory
So I was out at the thrift store today, as is my usual Monday ritual. (Mondays are "customer appreciation" days so they knock off 25%) The trick is to be able to maneuver around the professional shoppers that are there to load up on eBay fodder. Some of those old ladies can be tough, they'll take you out at the knees if you get in their way. You can't be afraid to hip-check them into a display stand and step on 'em to get to that bargain.
Oh relax... it's a joke. I've never purposely hip-checked or stepped on anyone.
Anyway, today's excursion to the store reminded me of something. It's funny because every single year without fail I complain about this same thing, yet every year, right after the holidays, I promptly forget all about what brings on my wrath and hatred.
They were playing Christmas music. Ok, we're close enough to Thanksgiving in the US that my typical "its too early" rant won't hold up... but I'm not complaining about just any Christmas carol. Oh no, this partciular musical tribute to the birth of Jesus Christ is singularly the most annoying carol since "The 12 Days of Christmas."
Oh, see? You thought that's where I was going with it didn't you? Oh no, that's way too easy.
I'll give you a hint, parum-pa-pum-pum.
Every single time I hear "The Little Drummer Boy" I not only get visibly annoyed, but wish against wish I had SOME way to turn that insipid tune OFF.
It's horrible! How can anyone actually LIKE that song? What's worse, virtually every Christmas record ever made by countless artists from countless genres have made a version of it. You know why? Because every single one of them thought they could do a GOOD version of that song. Every single one of them were DEAD WRONG. It's not POSSIBLE.
I play drums. Not so much anymore, but I do play. As a drummer, I've lived my life avoiding pissing off friends, family and neighbors with my playing. It's not that I suck, but drums by themselves are not all that great to listen to unless you really like listening to drummers play by themselves. That's not a large percentage of the population, people. Sure the odd drum solo at the concert is pretty freakin' cool, but buy the live CD of that concert and see how many times you skip past the drum solo song. Yeah... time and place, people.
So an entire song about a little boy going to the manger to play his little drum "song" to the baby Jesus just kills me. I can see the wise men rolling their eyes in "when is he going to be done already" fashion. Jesus would probably be crying. Mary would be trying to comfort the baby and Joseph is glaring at the little drumming shithead.
Which one of you made a joke about the livestock being nervous? Hahahaha... get bent. :-P
The premise is stupid, the song is lame and it should be wiped from all human record as soon as it is physically and technologically possible to do so.
Other than that, it's ok. Ha.
Funny thing is, like I said, December 26th? I'll forget all about this song... until next year.
Oh relax... it's a joke. I've never purposely hip-checked or stepped on anyone.
Anyway, today's excursion to the store reminded me of something. It's funny because every single year without fail I complain about this same thing, yet every year, right after the holidays, I promptly forget all about what brings on my wrath and hatred.
They were playing Christmas music. Ok, we're close enough to Thanksgiving in the US that my typical "its too early" rant won't hold up... but I'm not complaining about just any Christmas carol. Oh no, this partciular musical tribute to the birth of Jesus Christ is singularly the most annoying carol since "The 12 Days of Christmas."
Oh, see? You thought that's where I was going with it didn't you? Oh no, that's way too easy.
I'll give you a hint, parum-pa-pum-pum.
Every single time I hear "The Little Drummer Boy" I not only get visibly annoyed, but wish against wish I had SOME way to turn that insipid tune OFF.
It's horrible! How can anyone actually LIKE that song? What's worse, virtually every Christmas record ever made by countless artists from countless genres have made a version of it. You know why? Because every single one of them thought they could do a GOOD version of that song. Every single one of them were DEAD WRONG. It's not POSSIBLE.
I play drums. Not so much anymore, but I do play. As a drummer, I've lived my life avoiding pissing off friends, family and neighbors with my playing. It's not that I suck, but drums by themselves are not all that great to listen to unless you really like listening to drummers play by themselves. That's not a large percentage of the population, people. Sure the odd drum solo at the concert is pretty freakin' cool, but buy the live CD of that concert and see how many times you skip past the drum solo song. Yeah... time and place, people.
So an entire song about a little boy going to the manger to play his little drum "song" to the baby Jesus just kills me. I can see the wise men rolling their eyes in "when is he going to be done already" fashion. Jesus would probably be crying. Mary would be trying to comfort the baby and Joseph is glaring at the little drumming shithead.
Which one of you made a joke about the livestock being nervous? Hahahaha... get bent. :-P
The premise is stupid, the song is lame and it should be wiped from all human record as soon as it is physically and technologically possible to do so.
Other than that, it's ok. Ha.
Funny thing is, like I said, December 26th? I'll forget all about this song... until next year.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Plague, Dogs and a guy in a cloak.
Howdy folks, ok I'll admit it, I'm totally winging it today. There's a good reason for that though, I have the plague. Yep, the black death. I'm sure of it. No flu is this bad. I thought I dodged that H1N1 bullet, but I guess I just wasn't fast enough, pardner. Bury me with my boots on. Hmm.. better buy me some boots first, then bury me in 'em.
And will someone get this guy with the black cloak and sickle outta here? He's blocking the tv. Hey! Down in front! Jerkoff.
My dog, Hunter has been in bed with me all day. He's a good ol' loyal beagle. Well, loyal or opportunistic as hell, I'm not sure. He likes to sleep under the covers of course, so there's this Beagle-sized "HunterLump" in the middle of the bed. Oh and he kicks his legs when he's dreaming. Yeah, it's as much fun as it sounds. I named him Hunter before I found out he's afraid of anything that sounds like a gunshot. Thunder, fireworks and umm, gunshots I suppose. Poor dog, the 4th of July is hell on him.
But then, it's funny what kind of neuroses you find in dogs. Goofy shit sometimes to be sure. My friends Lee (R.I.P. bro) and Karen had a boarder collie named Ian. Ian was a fun, playful, wonderful dog that was just a riot to play with. Ian had a couple of interesting quirks though... odd things made him slink away in fear with his tail between his legs.
First, there was the ducks.
More generally, anything that even remotely sounded duck-like. If you looked at Ian and made a Donald Duck sounding little quack noise at him, there he'd go, slinking away, never taking his eyes off of you. One time we were all sitting around the living room, drinking of course, and all took turns quacking at Ian. He'd slink from person to person looking for someone to save him from the quacking.
Oh don't get your undies in a bunch, we only did it a couple times, then we all gave him treats so it was all good.
Then there was the tubes. Paper towel tubes, toilet paper tubes. STRAWS. Ok, the duck thing I can understand... maybe he pissed off mama duck when he was a puppy or something... but STRAWS? I don't know if there was a difference between bendy or regular straws.
Come to think of it, my other dog, a Pomeranian named Sampson has a few quirks of his own too. One, he hides... under the couch, under the chair, under the bed. Any time the going gets tough, the tough go under the recliner and bark ferociously from there. Yeah, um, not so fierce there boy.
His other thing is that he loves his toys. He'll play with his tennis balls for hours, but he loves his stuffed, squeaky toys. He'll wrestle and flip his little stuffed critter around the room, chase it after he throws it and then throw it again. And then, he humps it.
You read that right.
It's not just a couple little quickies either. I swear I start hearing some smooth jazz playing in the background after a while. To paraphrase a line from Family Guy "Ok Sampson, you were dominant 15 minutes ago, now you're just on vacation."
Hunter is kicking me in the leg again so I guess that means it's time to wrap this up. The guy in the cloak is looking kinda bored too and is starting to rummage through the dresser. I better keep an eye on him.
And will someone get this guy with the black cloak and sickle outta here? He's blocking the tv. Hey! Down in front! Jerkoff.
My dog, Hunter has been in bed with me all day. He's a good ol' loyal beagle. Well, loyal or opportunistic as hell, I'm not sure. He likes to sleep under the covers of course, so there's this Beagle-sized "HunterLump" in the middle of the bed. Oh and he kicks his legs when he's dreaming. Yeah, it's as much fun as it sounds. I named him Hunter before I found out he's afraid of anything that sounds like a gunshot. Thunder, fireworks and umm, gunshots I suppose. Poor dog, the 4th of July is hell on him.
But then, it's funny what kind of neuroses you find in dogs. Goofy shit sometimes to be sure. My friends Lee (R.I.P. bro) and Karen had a boarder collie named Ian. Ian was a fun, playful, wonderful dog that was just a riot to play with. Ian had a couple of interesting quirks though... odd things made him slink away in fear with his tail between his legs.
First, there was the ducks.
More generally, anything that even remotely sounded duck-like. If you looked at Ian and made a Donald Duck sounding little quack noise at him, there he'd go, slinking away, never taking his eyes off of you. One time we were all sitting around the living room, drinking of course, and all took turns quacking at Ian. He'd slink from person to person looking for someone to save him from the quacking.
Oh don't get your undies in a bunch, we only did it a couple times, then we all gave him treats so it was all good.
Then there was the tubes. Paper towel tubes, toilet paper tubes. STRAWS. Ok, the duck thing I can understand... maybe he pissed off mama duck when he was a puppy or something... but STRAWS? I don't know if there was a difference between bendy or regular straws.
Come to think of it, my other dog, a Pomeranian named Sampson has a few quirks of his own too. One, he hides... under the couch, under the chair, under the bed. Any time the going gets tough, the tough go under the recliner and bark ferociously from there. Yeah, um, not so fierce there boy.
His other thing is that he loves his toys. He'll play with his tennis balls for hours, but he loves his stuffed, squeaky toys. He'll wrestle and flip his little stuffed critter around the room, chase it after he throws it and then throw it again. And then, he humps it.
You read that right.
It's not just a couple little quickies either. I swear I start hearing some smooth jazz playing in the background after a while. To paraphrase a line from Family Guy "Ok Sampson, you were dominant 15 minutes ago, now you're just on vacation."
Hunter is kicking me in the leg again so I guess that means it's time to wrap this up. The guy in the cloak is looking kinda bored too and is starting to rummage through the dresser. I better keep an eye on him.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Change in Direction
One of the things I really love about writing this blog is that it forces me to think once in a while.
Last night, I ran to the grocery store to get stuff for chicken fajitas. (which came out awesome, by the way) I pulled up in front of Cub Foods and what I saw made my heart sink a little bit. Really? Already? A little early, don'tcha think? But yes, there she was... the Salvation Army bell-ringer. Red kettle at her side, she stood there ringing her bell, trying to get people to throw some change in the bucket. It's a brilliant campaign, "help the poor or we'll make you feel GUILTY!" Shame on you for not throwing some change in that bucket! I immediately thought I had the subject for today's entry locked up, a full-on rant about the whole deal.
Then I woke up this morning and started thinking about what I wanted to write. Sometimes, a funny thing happens when you start thinking instead of acting on impulse... you remember things. Things that change your perspective. Things that remind you of the person you used to be before you became so cynical.
Sherman, set the Wayback machine for sometime in the early 1980's - we're going to Mundelein Illinois.
The first job I ever had was at an Aldi store. For those not familiar with Aldi, it's a chain of grocery stores that sell off-brand or store-brand food at huge discounts. To be fair, a lot of it is from big-names, but it's their "discount" brand level stuff. Anyway, I was the... I forgot what they called the position, I'll call it "grunt." I pushed carts, I swept, I mopped, I took care of trash and cardboard, I cleaned bathrooms, etc. etc. etc. Not a glamor job, to be sure.
That winter was a tough one. It was cold, there were a few big snowstorms that just kept us buried under a thick blanket of the white stuff. There, in front of the Service Merchandise showroom store next-door was the Salvation Army bell-ringer. I remember seeing him getting dropped off and/or picked up every day by the same beat-up van. He was a middle-aged black man, I think he was from Waukegan. I couldn't tell you his name, but I knew he wasn't thrilled about having to stand out in the cold and the snow for hours on end. The store he was in front of was barely tolerant of him being there, they wouldn't even let him come inside the entryway to warm up, unless it was below zero.
I'd see him almost every day and I made it a point to always have some change in my pocket to throw in his bucket. I'd hang out and talk with him for a little while and then head in to work. As the days went on and the nights got longer and colder, I'd bring him a little thermos of soup so he could have something hot to keep him from freezing out there. Then, one night, he was gone. I don't know how they do it, maybe his time was up, maybe they moved him to another store, but I never saw him again. I felt like I had lost a friend. I have no idea what happened to him, but I hope he is well.
I haven't thought about him in years... and that thought reminded those are real people out there ringing those bells. They all have their own stories and histories that brought them to that store, standing in the cold, ringing that bell for your pocket change. I don't know about you, but I almost never carry cash anymore. I think I'll start making sure I have some change in my pocket again.
Last night, I ran to the grocery store to get stuff for chicken fajitas. (which came out awesome, by the way) I pulled up in front of Cub Foods and what I saw made my heart sink a little bit. Really? Already? A little early, don'tcha think? But yes, there she was... the Salvation Army bell-ringer. Red kettle at her side, she stood there ringing her bell, trying to get people to throw some change in the bucket. It's a brilliant campaign, "help the poor or we'll make you feel GUILTY!" Shame on you for not throwing some change in that bucket! I immediately thought I had the subject for today's entry locked up, a full-on rant about the whole deal.
Then I woke up this morning and started thinking about what I wanted to write. Sometimes, a funny thing happens when you start thinking instead of acting on impulse... you remember things. Things that change your perspective. Things that remind you of the person you used to be before you became so cynical.
Sherman, set the Wayback machine for sometime in the early 1980's - we're going to Mundelein Illinois.
The first job I ever had was at an Aldi store. For those not familiar with Aldi, it's a chain of grocery stores that sell off-brand or store-brand food at huge discounts. To be fair, a lot of it is from big-names, but it's their "discount" brand level stuff. Anyway, I was the... I forgot what they called the position, I'll call it "grunt." I pushed carts, I swept, I mopped, I took care of trash and cardboard, I cleaned bathrooms, etc. etc. etc. Not a glamor job, to be sure.
That winter was a tough one. It was cold, there were a few big snowstorms that just kept us buried under a thick blanket of the white stuff. There, in front of the Service Merchandise showroom store next-door was the Salvation Army bell-ringer. I remember seeing him getting dropped off and/or picked up every day by the same beat-up van. He was a middle-aged black man, I think he was from Waukegan. I couldn't tell you his name, but I knew he wasn't thrilled about having to stand out in the cold and the snow for hours on end. The store he was in front of was barely tolerant of him being there, they wouldn't even let him come inside the entryway to warm up, unless it was below zero.
I'd see him almost every day and I made it a point to always have some change in my pocket to throw in his bucket. I'd hang out and talk with him for a little while and then head in to work. As the days went on and the nights got longer and colder, I'd bring him a little thermos of soup so he could have something hot to keep him from freezing out there. Then, one night, he was gone. I don't know how they do it, maybe his time was up, maybe they moved him to another store, but I never saw him again. I felt like I had lost a friend. I have no idea what happened to him, but I hope he is well.
I haven't thought about him in years... and that thought reminded those are real people out there ringing those bells. They all have their own stories and histories that brought them to that store, standing in the cold, ringing that bell for your pocket change. I don't know about you, but I almost never carry cash anymore. I think I'll start making sure I have some change in my pocket again.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Finally! / #BoobieWed
Finally!
Ok, sorry. Its been a couple weeks since I last updated this journal. See, this is the same problem I had every other time I've tried blogging. While I have nobody to answer to other than myself, this time it's different. I've started following other journals and blogs and have started to feel some sort of peer-pressure. I'm 44! Peer pressure? Really? Shit… it never goes away does it?
I have to admit, its not just peer-pressure. I know I have a couple card-carrying followers, and several others who check in regularly. To anyone who is actually reading this, I say thank you. I appreciate the fact you take the time to come here. I'll make sure there are regular content updates so you have a reason to continue doing so. Some will be better than others - you have been warned.
Yesterday, Loripop posted a brilliantly funny piece on "Writer's Block." I read it and laughed my ass off because it was so dead-on and I could instantly identify with the entire thought process. That's been me for the last 2 weeks. I've tried writing updates during that time, I think I have at least 5 posts that started out with a good idea and quickly descended into chaos and mental wandering before finally being saved and shunted into the "Finish When You Get a Clue" file. Of course, some of them are pretty topical, so they're either already past their shelf life or will be soon. Whatever, this ain't the Chicago Tribune. Maybe I'll get 'em out, maybe not.
-----
As I'm writing this, I'm watching The Early Show on CBS. They just did a story on a medical study being conducted in Australia that could be good news for survivors of breast cancer. They just completed successful studies with animals and are getting ready for human trials. What's the news? Using stem cells encapsulated in a biodegradable package full of some sort of growth media in order to regrow natural breast tissue. They say it will be difficult because humans have a defined period of growth whereas animals tend to continue growing throughout their lives, but they believe it will work and could be available within 3-10 years (10 for cosmetic purposes).
Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows I've jumped on the Boobie Wednesday (#boobiewed) bandwagon with both feet. In fact, I planned on talking about #boobiewed in the second half of this post, the news story was just a happy coincidence. I admit it, I love breasts. Big breasts, small breasts, happy medium breasts. Pillows, melons, mosquito bites, rocks-in-socks, natural or *ahem* augmented, breasts rock. What's not to like? They're squishy, they're fun, they're curvy and they make plunging necklines waaaaaaay more interesting. However, while I love breasts as much as the next person, that's not the main reason why I'm on the #boobiewed bandwagon. Breast cancer affects EVERYONE. Guys, us too. We've got the same plumbing, just not all the padding. Self examination is key, catch it early and it can be taken care of relatively easily and save your life. I have a sister in-law who survived breast cancer, but wound up losing a breast in the process. Luckily, she has been cancer-free ever since. This woman is a saint. Or at least she will be, eventually. (Hopefully, many decades from now.) I'm doing this for her and for every other person who has had to go through the ordeals of varying stages of breast cancer. It's a horrible disease that attacks the most fun, eye-catching, comforting and yes, nurturing part of the human body. Squish a boob, save a life. Oh, and when you're not squishing boobs, stop by the Boobie Wednesday Blog and Store. $2 from each purchase will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. They are trying to raise enough money to donate a mammogram for Christmas. I think that's a great reason to buy an awesome mug or t-shirt.
Edits:
1) Added link to CBS News video
2) Corrected estimated time for availability of treatment
3) Corrected donation amount.
Ok, sorry. Its been a couple weeks since I last updated this journal. See, this is the same problem I had every other time I've tried blogging. While I have nobody to answer to other than myself, this time it's different. I've started following other journals and blogs and have started to feel some sort of peer-pressure. I'm 44! Peer pressure? Really? Shit… it never goes away does it?
I have to admit, its not just peer-pressure. I know I have a couple card-carrying followers, and several others who check in regularly. To anyone who is actually reading this, I say thank you. I appreciate the fact you take the time to come here. I'll make sure there are regular content updates so you have a reason to continue doing so. Some will be better than others - you have been warned.
Yesterday, Loripop posted a brilliantly funny piece on "Writer's Block." I read it and laughed my ass off because it was so dead-on and I could instantly identify with the entire thought process. That's been me for the last 2 weeks. I've tried writing updates during that time, I think I have at least 5 posts that started out with a good idea and quickly descended into chaos and mental wandering before finally being saved and shunted into the "Finish When You Get a Clue" file. Of course, some of them are pretty topical, so they're either already past their shelf life or will be soon. Whatever, this ain't the Chicago Tribune. Maybe I'll get 'em out, maybe not.
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As I'm writing this, I'm watching The Early Show on CBS. They just did a story on a medical study being conducted in Australia that could be good news for survivors of breast cancer. They just completed successful studies with animals and are getting ready for human trials. What's the news? Using stem cells encapsulated in a biodegradable package full of some sort of growth media in order to regrow natural breast tissue. They say it will be difficult because humans have a defined period of growth whereas animals tend to continue growing throughout their lives, but they believe it will work and could be available within 3-10 years (10 for cosmetic purposes).
Anyone who follows me on Twitter knows I've jumped on the Boobie Wednesday (#boobiewed) bandwagon with both feet. In fact, I planned on talking about #boobiewed in the second half of this post, the news story was just a happy coincidence. I admit it, I love breasts. Big breasts, small breasts, happy medium breasts. Pillows, melons, mosquito bites, rocks-in-socks, natural or *ahem* augmented, breasts rock. What's not to like? They're squishy, they're fun, they're curvy and they make plunging necklines waaaaaaay more interesting. However, while I love breasts as much as the next person, that's not the main reason why I'm on the #boobiewed bandwagon. Breast cancer affects EVERYONE. Guys, us too. We've got the same plumbing, just not all the padding. Self examination is key, catch it early and it can be taken care of relatively easily and save your life. I have a sister in-law who survived breast cancer, but wound up losing a breast in the process. Luckily, she has been cancer-free ever since. This woman is a saint. Or at least she will be, eventually. (Hopefully, many decades from now.) I'm doing this for her and for every other person who has had to go through the ordeals of varying stages of breast cancer. It's a horrible disease that attacks the most fun, eye-catching, comforting and yes, nurturing part of the human body. Squish a boob, save a life. Oh, and when you're not squishing boobs, stop by the Boobie Wednesday Blog and Store. $2 from each purchase will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation. They are trying to raise enough money to donate a mammogram for Christmas. I think that's a great reason to buy an awesome mug or t-shirt.
Edits:
1) Added link to CBS News video
2) Corrected estimated time for availability of treatment
3) Corrected donation amount.
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