Laughing at Yourself

Momma said there would be days like this. Days when nothing seems to go quite right no matter what you do. Days when you are not sure if you should just crawl back in bed and try coming out with the next sunrise or simply cower in a far away corner while you wave the white flag of surrender. On these days, you can either choose to cry or learn to laugh at yourself.  I've cried enough over the years. I'm finally learning to laugh again....and it feels great!

Laughing at myself and at the absurdity of certain situations helps me to remember just how insignificant some things truly are. Laughing helps me to look for joy even in what feels like the worst of times. It helps me to admit the part I play in the frustrating situation and helps me stay humble. Most of all, laughing at myself reduces stress before it can become overwhelming and helps those around me feel more comfortable as well. That sounds like a win-win situation to me!

Clear out the grey clouds that are trying to loom over your day and simply chuckle. After all, things can't always go wrong....and if they do, you'll still be able to find something to smile about.

What Once Was Lost....

I've had a proclivity for losing things lately. This should not be surprising. I'm notorious for putting things in safe places only to forget where I put them. I've lost passports, birth certificates, library books.....you get the idea. Somehow I've managed to hold on to all of my devices without too much trouble. I thought that had all changed this week.

Since I just returned home from a road trip, I haven't cleaned out my car yet. What can I say? It's a bachelor-mobile! On Monday, I was running lots of errands between lessons and rehearsals. At one point that afternoon, I turned to use my cell phone only to realize that it wasn't there! I panicked momentarily before I convinced myself I had just left it in the car. When my phone wasn't in its usual place in the car, I assumed I had left it at home when I was there for lunch.

After work, I drove home to find an empty couch! Now I was frantic. I cannot survive without my phone! It keeps me connected to the world. I crawl in the floor and check under the couch. I walk to my parking spot, hoping it had fallen on the ground. I look under the seats of the car. I drive back to the bank I visited earlier in the day to check the lot there.

As I begin to accept that my phone is gone, I visit the local Sprint store to switch over my plan and get a new phone. Now that I know what Sprint will need in order to keep my current number, I return to the phone and hit the hands-free button on the steering wheel by accident. The system comes to life and informs me that my device is connected! My phone is not lost, but I have no idea where it is....and the battery is extremely low. This is not happening!

I call the Geriatric Ward and tell them what is happening. Once I get to the school parking lot, I'll have them call my phone and hopefully I'll be able to find it as it vibrates. After a few moments, Mom calls and I hear my beautiful ring tone! The phone had fallen into a massive abyss between the bucket seat and the arm rest. What is even more funny is that I found another lost device --- that I have searched for in 3 states since December! I'm not sure if this is a sign of a perpetually messy car or the early onset of recurring senior moments. Either way, "what was once lost has now been found."

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The Continuing Adventures of the Geriatric Ward

It's true that I am no longer physically living in the Geriatric Ward, but the adventures with the patients continue. Here's one of our latest episodes for your enjoyment.

Last Wednesday evening, I decided I needed to call home and assure my parents that I was okay and that I was getting settled in my apartment. Since a picture is sometimes worth a thousand words, I thought a video tour of my place might be most helpful.....so I decided to Skype with the Geriatrics.

Skype was not an entirely new concept for them.....I had installed the program on Dad's laptop shortly after learning I would be moving and had a couple of practice sessions with them while I was still home. I knew I would have to walk them through it a few more times to get them comfortable with the technology, but I had no idea how funny it would be.

I began with a phone call to help them get Skype running. It took everything in me not to laugh as I gave Mom directions on the phone and then listened to her LOUDLY CONVEY those instructions to Pop. It made it funnier to see how close they were in proximity to each other. Once we established a connection and confirmed that everyone could hear, we hung up the phone and continued the video chat. For the next hour, I saw half of Mom's face and the lower half of Dad's head. You should have seen the looks of surprise in their eyes when they saw the small box in the bottom corner showing them what was going out from their camera. Priceless!

Skype won't be the only way that we talk for sure, but it is a fun way to stay in touch with the Geriatrics with the added benefit of seeing each other face to face. I think it makes the difficulty of being apart for the first time in so long a little easier for everyone involved.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

As my family continues to come to grips with Dad's recovery from bypass surgery, we are very conscious of our diet at the moment. We are eating low fat foods as much as possible. We're aware of our sugar intake. We are hyper-aware of sodium levels. With all of these concerns, cooking has been challenging for Mom.

One of the doctor's final instructions to Dad before leaving the hospital was to "watch the salt." As the first week at home progressed, comments were made regularly at dinner about the food's blandness. I felt sorry for Mom who was doing the best she could, but I couldn't figure out what was going on. We had scheduled recipes that were low in sodium that we had prepared many times before to rave reviews. I was now a man on a mission.

My first thought was that the spices had gone bad and lost their potency. A quick Internet search explained that the spice's smell was the best way to determine if it was still good. I shared this information with Mom and then began smelling spice bottles in the kitchen. The aromas were amazing! This clearly was not the problem.

Once the house had quieted a bit, I had the chance to sit down and talk to Mom and Dad about their first week home. As we talked, we discovered some things that needed improvement and some areas that were concerning for each of us. The conversation moved to the week's food and Mom's questions about what was happening. It felt as though a light bulb illuminated over my head, and I asked Mom a simple question: "Are you still adding salt to the recipes as directed?" When she said that she was not, I knew we had discovered the meals' problem.

We talked about the difference between the ideas of "watching the salt" and "eliminating all salt." The doctor did not say that Dad could not have salt; Dad was told to make sure he did not use too much salt. It was fun to watch Mom's eyes light up with understanding. Now she is cooking with salt in a reasonable manner and making Mrs. Dash's Table Blend available for additional seasoning by the individual.

What a difference a little salt made! Saturday evening was the first meal of the week that Mom resumed her use of salt; the results were AMAZING! While eating dinner, my mind raced to the saying of Jesus recorded in Matthew 5:13: "You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt should lose its taste, how can it be made salty? It's no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled on by men." (HCSB) After a week of eating food prepared without the added flavor of salt, Jesus' words took on brand new meaning....and the scripture's challenge became clearer in my mind.

Wearing the Wrong Pants

Despite my offers to handle things, Mom insisted on coming home for an afternoon while Dad was in the hospital to take care of the laundry. (I seem to have a vague recollection of pink t-shirts and underwear when I was in college that may explain her feelings about my laundry skills. The specifics seem to be fading from memory now....) Imagine my surprise when I discovered that my Mom is also susceptible to laundry mistakes.

It had been another long week filled with teaching, rehearsals, and daily trips to the hospital. When Friday finally rolled around, I was a bit perturbed that I had to conduct a student conference on a day I was scheduled to be off work. Heaven forbid that faculty appear on campus wearing anything less than business casual! On this particular Friday, I was impressed that I had managed to pull clothes from the closet that actually matched and got them on my body successfully. I barely remember getting dressed at all.

As the day progressed, I began to notice that I was having issues with my slacks. My heel was getting caught in the cuff. My belt was singed tightly against my waist, but the pants did not feel normal. I began to think that all of the busyness of the last few weeks had equated to some weight loss. When visiting the men's room, I had to check that the clasp was still in tact. My pants were entirely too loose.

As I was driving home, I decided it was time to check the tags and figure out what was going on. Upon inspection, I realized that I had been wearing my dad's pants all day long. Dad's waistband is four inches larger than mine! How in the world had this happened? Then it dawned on me...Mom had dealt with the laundry last weekend while barely able to keep her eyes open. She hung Dad's pants in my closet! After shaking my head at her mistake, I was very thankful that the slacks had stayed around my waist all day. A single tug caused by a missed step could have resulted in a breezy and embarrassing situation with my -- or Dad's -- pants gathered around my ankles.

It's safe to assume that I will be paying closer attention to the tags in all of my clothes for at least the next few weeks. And I'll smile to know that my potential wardrobe malfunction has not had the chance for a repeat performance.

Road Trip Lessons

I've always enjoyed taking road trips. It's a great way to see the country and provides plenty of opportunities to be quiet with your thoughts. Inevitably, a road trip will always teach you things you didn't know about your world and yourself.

My most recent road trip took me to Guymon, Oklahoma. Guymon is a small town in the Oklahoma Panhandle, not far from the Kansas border. As I was driving in, I learned that this area of the Midwest is quite beautiful and sparsely populated. The rolling hills of green were only interrupted by mesa formations (think of New Mexico, just on a smaller scale).  The natural beauty is enhanced by the many ranches featuring cattle, horses, and various other animals. I truly felt like I was returning to the Wild West! While I appreciated the views, I'm not entirely sure I'd want to live here for very long.

I also learned that an Oklahoma thunderstorm is no joke! Once safely at my hotel, I grabbed my keys to get the last few things out of my car. I opened the door and saw sheets of rain with enormous gusts of wind. This storm had popped up with little warning in less than five minutes! I'm thinking this might be a troublesome storm; the hotel staff informed me that this was normal and no reason for concern. Sure enough, the storm passed as quickly as it blew in.

Lastly, I learned that I have a sensitivity to artificial sweetener on this road trip. How did I learn this? Well, that's a story that most of you will find extremely funny. Take my advice now and put your beverage down. You'll thank me later.

Once I made it to Tulsa, I had a bad case of the munchies. I didn't want to gorge myself with chocolate because I still had several hours of driving ahead of me. I opted for a package of Twizzlers. Once I got to the car, I noticed that this bag of red licorice was sugar free. Great! I had made a responsible decision without realizing it.

The miles passed as I chomped on the red ropes. Before I knew what had happened, I had eaten the entire bag. That's when I noticed the warning printed on the back of the product: "Persons with sensitivity to artificial sweetener may experience a laxative effect." Ok, that's not what I wanted to hear, but how bad could it really be? This is candy, after all...right?

Remember what I said about the Panhandle? It's sparsely populated. Nothing around. No gas stations. No porcelain thrones. As the miles passed, a mounting desperation was growing in the pit of my stomach. Just as I am contemplating finding relief on the shoulder of the road, I see a gas station! Hallelujah! At first, I feared I was hallucinating! As it drew closer, I knew relief was coming soon.

Imagine my frustration when I stepped inside only to find the bathrooms were closed for cleaning! Back to my car I (carefully) go.  My foot became heavier than usual as I raced for the hotel some 10 miles away. I have never been so happy to see a hotel lobby with clearly marked signs in all my life.  I was also thankful that I hadn't consumed a lot of food on this road trip (other than the offensive Twizzlers, that is).

I'll spare you the remaining details, but let's just say that the rest of the evening was very "eventful" and raucous! And THAT'S how I learned I have a sensitivity to artificial sweeteners. Now, aren't you glad you didn't read this while you had a drink in your hand?  :)

Only in Arkansas

I have spent most of my life living in Arkansas. For all its natural beauty (though there isn't much in my part of the state), I often refer to it as "the armpit of America."  (I suppose "the fuzzy navel" might be more anatomically correct though.)  As I was driving across the state for a quick getaway, I began to think about some of the things that make Arkansas a unique experience.

• Only in Arkansas is it considered appropriate to display a red hog everywhere! Household banners flap in the wind, overweight women parade about with a pig plastered across her chest, and every man has owned a Razorback cap at some point.  When my high school class visited former President Reagan in his Los Angeles office, we presented him with a hat in the shape of a Razorback.  (Cue the music now....."black gold, Texas tea.....")  Today, I saw a hog plastered on a toilet seat.  Really?!?!?!
• Only in Arkansas will you find such eloquently named locales like Greasy Corner, Toad Suck, and Piggett.  Do we really need to ask why the rest of the nation laughs at us?  "Where are you from?"  "Arkansas."  "Really? Little Rock?"  "No, I live in Hog Jaw. It's about 2 hours west of Little Rock."   In case you think I'm making this stuff up, visit Funny Town Names.  Lots of states have them, but Arkansas has more than its fair share of humorous city names.
• Sooooeeee Pig!!!!!  Enough said.  Only in Arkansas are our institutes of higher learning associated with their accurate imitation of a dying farm animal in heat!

Thankfully, despite the many strange -- dare I say, embarrassing -- things associated with the state, I have found that Arkansas is home to some of the nicest folks you'll find anywhere around. Thankfully the kissin' cousins of lore and the Washington clowns are not a true representation of our people.  (Did you really think I would leave Bill & Hill out of this little Arkansas rant? Not on your life!)