How Stupid Can You Be

So much titillating news it is hard to focus. Today I chose the stupidest one. John Edwards is beyond stupid. When his brain dropped to his shorts there was damage done. Perhaps a subdural hematoma, I mean none of us know how big his brain is or his package for that matter. Andrew Young , John's trusted aide, sold a book proposal to St. Martin's Press. He says that John begged him to confess to fathering Rielle Hunter's baby. This is where stupid enters the equation. How many of us know of a woman with young children, who would live in the same house as her husband's mistress and love child ? That is what happened when John packed off to California his mistress, child, trusted aide, and the trusted aide's family. Andrew was promised financial help for life to lie. Now with the investigation into John's finances, Andrew must be panicking. To spice up the book he says he has a sex tape too. I wonder if John's hair gets messy during sex? That will be the only reason I will watch the tape. One thing I know. John gets up every morning and says a prayer to Mark Sanford for keeping him off the front page.

Random Thoughts

Today is Monday. Just random stuff in my head that needs to be expressed. People didn't read my blog. Kate is on the front cover of the new issue. I did not read the article. She and Jon need to quit whining and get jobs. I grew up with Michael Jackson's music. I am sad for his children. I hope they are able to function as adults. You know your family is truly dysfunctional when Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson are your spokespersons. I am running a pharmacy out of my home. My medicine are twice a day. Shelley gets hers in the morning. My husband takes his by himself. Chip gets his three times a day. He gets a syringe full of medicine three times along with Valium. He gets Zantac twice a day. He hacks and coughs up a much as he can. There was a Zantac by the kitchen sink this morning. I am titrating the syringe medicine under the supervision of his internist and neurologist. There is a fine line dosage wise with medicine. Too much causes diarrhea and urine incontinence. Not enough doesn't keep the myasthenia gravis under control. My husband argues with me regarding the dosages. Evidently he knows more than veterinarians specializing in neurology and internal medicine. I am so fortune to be married to such a knowledgeable person. The fat, frumpy lady is back. I weighed myself this morning. She was behind me on the scales. That number can not be right. It has nothing to do with all the graduation cake I ate. Or all the food I have eaten at all the parties I have been going to. I go to Tai Chi today. Maybe I can sling her off with one of my moves. I am afraid the only way to get rid of her is some hard exercise or major liposuction. Maybe I will fast for a week. Cleanse my body of all the toxins. Before I fast for a week I probably need to eat as much as possible to keep me from becoming too thin. Chocolate over pancakes will be a good start.

The Gov

Dear Mark Sanford,

You should have kept your pants zipped. You are definitely screwed now.

Sincerely, Cullie

TACKY, TACKY

I read an article a few weeks back in The Charlotte Observer that won't get out of my head. The article described the Rock Hill Women's Club fundraiser. I have no objection to the fundraiser. What I can't get out of my head is how they raised the money. Toilets painted pink with some decoration that were left on front lawns. The recipients of these toilets paid a "ransom" to have them removed. The local news had a feature of two women lugging a pink toilet to a lawn and then running to their mini van for the getaway. When my son in Atlanta was a high school junior, I had a toilet left on my front porch. There was no ransom. My son's high school friends delivered it as a joke on my son. Notice I have said high school friends left it for my high school son. So to get this out of my head, I need to say - TACKY,TACKY,TACKY,TACKY,TACKY,TACKY,TACKY! Thank you, I feel so much better. Who ever thought of the toilet fundraiser needs to be on the refreshment committee.

The Heat Is On

My beloved South is now a steaming, humid bed of heat. I grew up with these summers, running barefoot without air conditioning. I loved the heat. My diseases do not. The chronic nausea goes into dry heaves every time it hits the heat. The Irritable Bowel reacts with bloating. I wake up with a flat stomach. By mid afternoon I am pregnant with an elephant. The fatigue is overwhelming. Getting out of bed is an Olympic event. The Restless Leg Syndrome does the Riverdance in bed every night. The Fibromyalgia wants to flare up so bad. It hits me with pain every where. My hands ache and cramp. All my toes are cold and numb with shooting pains up my legs. Acupuncture is helping. You have not lived until you have had acupuncture needles between your fingers and toes. Air conditioning is a blessing. Tai Chi helps although I am the worst one in the class. Carrying the elephant around makes it hard to balance and find chi. I take the class at a Senior Citizen's Center. I thought I would be the best. I started at the front. I am now firmly in the back. During this heat if I am rude and bitchy, please choose from the above diseases for explanation. Or better yet blame it on the elephant I don't plan on delivering.

The Bachelor Issue of People

Friday I received my Special Double Issue of People featuring the Summer's Hottest Bachelors. I have several problems with this issue. First of all not one bachelor is over 50. Chace Crawford is in his 20's. If I want to see 20 year old guys, I can hang out at my son's fraternity. Or better yet spend my Parent's Weekend's at GT and Alabama checking out the Hottest 20 year old Bachelors. Next was the article on Chastity Bono. He / She is having surgery to become a man. I have no problem with the surgery. My problem was with the article. The article referred to Chasity as he in keeping with "his transgender feelings." He is now calling himself Chaz. The Grandmother referred to him as her, as did Cher. Between the Chasity/Chaz and he/she,I felt like I needed a penis. Next objection was "The Tales of Passion." Lance Bass is featured there. A woman is clutching his arm while he pulls away. He discusses his first boyfriend, so why is he pictured with a woman? Maybe he is pulling away because he wanted a guy in the picture. Adam Lambert was in a great picture without a woman. Last but not least get Jon and Kate out of my magazine! If you are going to take fertility drugs and have twins, and take fertility drugs and have 6 children, and have a reality show - yes , you will have affairs and get divorced.

Sitting in the Mansion

A front page article of The Charlotte Observer Thursday featured John Edwards. John sits alone in his mansion worrying about the poor people. He refused to discuss the fraud investigation of his campaign, his former mistress, the paternity of the child of his former mistress, his wife's book, his wife's media campaign for her book, and his abandonment of his scholarships, think tanks and programs for the poor. He just wants to talk about sitting in his mansion worrying about the poor. Oh and by the way he is helping the poor in El Salvador. He plans to go back and maybe dig a ditch.This is my advise to dear old John. You got that mansion from suing lots of doctors and hospitals. You can add your name to the list of why American medical care is astronomical. During your campaign you decided to follow in John Kennedy, Gary Hart, and Bill Clinton's footsteps. In other words - keep your pant's zipped. Have you ever heard of Mother Theresa? The woman who sacrificed her whole life for the poor. Follow in her footsteps. Fill that mansion with the poor people. Cut your own hair. Help the guy across the road whose " trashy yard" has been such distress to Elizabeth.

The Med Student

I went shopping with my house guest yesterday. Since I am feeding and housing her I can drag her wherever I want. We stopped at one of my favorite shops The Mud Pie. A good friend works there. I got to visit with her, buy a gift, and get a lead on a good looking med student for my daughter. What more could you ask of a store? One of the employees' son is doing his hospital rotation in Brooklyn. He knows no one. Being the mothers we are, my friend told the employee about my daughter living in N.Y.C. The employee was a delight. She and I exchanged her son and my daughter's e-mails and phone numbers. My friend said to pass on to my daughter that the med student was good looking too. I had my house guest immediately text all the info to my daughter. I text so slow that I would still be texting next week. Stay tuned to this saga. Will he and my daughter date? Will he and a friends of hers date? Will he and she and all her friends just be friends? Will nothing happen? Will I have to go to another store for a different guy?

P.S. I did buy a futon at Target for the son going to Alabama.

I'm Tired

The party's are over. My house has only one guest for the next two weeks. My grand dog is awesome. He and my dogs played nice. There were a few minor growl fests but no bloodshed. He had a shower upon his arrival but other than that he liked us just fine. The shower was in case of fleas. I expected my son to bathe him outside. But showering his dog at 1:00 am made perfect sense to him. My son at home enjoyed his party. Thanks to all of you who came to help him celebrate. That meant so much to myself and my family. Chip did not do well during all the festivities. He thinks he is still the man even though his body tells him different. Kind of like Anna Nichole's first husband. Yesterday he was dragging his hind legs barely able to move. I took him and Shelley out to do their duty but left Chip off leash. Just as we go out a neighbor behind us comes between the house next door to us. Chip charges across the lawn growling and barking at their dog. Shelley and I just stand there. Two minutes ago he couldn't use his hind legs, now he is a wolf going in for the kill. The neighbor screams at Chip and he stops just short of their dog. The neighbor and her walking buddy glare at me with their hands on their hips, and then walk off with the dog. I am left standing there with Shelley. What can I do? Yell "he was a cripple five minutes ago" or "he has myasthenia gravis" or "what the hell are you doing cutting through my neighbor's lawn?". Chip now is on a mad dash to sniff everywhere the dog walked. He is still charging around. Kind of like he had a dose of Vigara and needs to use it. Finally he starts limping and I drag his butt back home. I am tired and worried any minute the dog police will come knocking. I will use all of Chip's drugs to exonerate he and I. No dog police arrive and no neighbors call. Chip is back to limping and I am so tired. He and I will rest now. Even if I have to carry him outside he will still be on his leash.

Graduation Party

The son at home graduates Friday at 3:30 with the party at 6:00. My daughter flies in tonight. My son from Atlanta drives home tomorrow night. He is bringing his dog, Zeus. My first grand dog. My sister already has 2 grand dogs. I was feeling left out. I am trying to prepare Chip and Shelley for the meeting of their nephew. They aren't interested. Chip is on 30 mgm of Valium for his myasthenia gravis. He is pretty mellow these days. Shelley only does what Chip does. She is a big chicken. She is especially afraid of vacuums . I read an article about vacuuming a shedding dog. Shelley has never fully recovered from her vacuuming experience. Taking in all these factors the dog fights shouldn't draw blood. My husband cooked two pots of sauce a few weekends ago. He will be home tomorrow to stuff shells and whatever else he feels is necessary. My role, according to him, will be to do whatever he tells me to do. The carpets are clean. The dogs are groomed. My children will sit during the party on the furniture with ripped upholstery. Basically that is the whole family room. There are enough people coming that it will be hard to see massacred hardwoods. The lights will be dimmed so all peeling paint, spots and dents in ceilings and walls will appear as soft shadows.

I checked the nest yesterday and the momma was there. I am not going back. The space is dark and the nest, pot, and momma are brown. I will leave well enough alone. I should never gone in there. I do so much better sitting in my big chair knitting.

Baby Birds

Yesterday I was out in the backyard watering my herbs. I went to find my insecticidal soap in the space under the screened porch. Of course I didn't have any. However I noticed a bunch of leaves and twigs in one of my clay pots. I picked up the pot to clean it out and out flew a bird. She flew through the lattice and out into the backyard. It scared the holy crap out of me. Thank goodness for incontinence pads. After I calmed down I looked into the pot. There were three teeny,tiny baby birds. They were all pink skin, beaks and eyes. I quickly put the pot back in it's original place. I walked out to the deck. The momma bird and all her buddies were pitching a fit. I apologized profusely and continued my day. Last night I went to bed remembering the baby birds. Did the momma go back after I disturbed the nest? Where the baby birds alone and shivering? Did I need to get baby bottles and milk? No, no, worms and grubs. What did baby birds eat? Would I have to become the mother? I am taking my youngest to college in the fall. Now I would have to take of three babies. Babies that I don't know what to feed. You don't breast feed birds and that was how I fed my kids. I want an empty nest not one with three birds in it! Plus I drove the mother away. When the birds grew up, would they resent me for the loss of their mother? Would they require intense therapy? Would they rob banks? And right at this minute - are they cold? I can't sit on the nest. I will have to knit them sweaters. I will do generic colors until I figure out their sex. I finally went to sleep. Today is no better. I am afraid to go back down there in cause the momma is there. But if I don't there are three starving babies. After reading this, I agree with Gordon, I do need to get a life.

Roll Tide

We are back from our trip to Tuscaloosa. My son is registered for classes. He has a dorm room. He has a post office box. He and my husband have clothes to wear to the football games. We bought those clothes at a nice store , The Locker Room, on the strip. They have adorable clothes for women. I picked a white top with a red elephant on the pocket. My husband insisted I try it on. The shop owner showed me all these cute, cute outfits with red seersucker skirts or black hounds tooth pants. He was so complimentary. He said his wife was 65 and wore all these outfits. My husband with his arms crossed over his chest, my son leaning over a display of clothes, and the shop owner were my judges regarding the outfits. I walked out in the first outfit. The shop owner gushes, my husband says I look flat and my neck looks skinny, and my son leans deeper into the clothes. I look in the mirror. Oh my God! A short, frumpy, plump woman stares back at me from the mirror. Where is my size 2 figure and glossy black hair? This is so not funny. The red elephants are so not cute. The seersucker stripes are not parallel. The hounds tooth is a distorted mass of mush. I keep trying on outfits. But that short, frumpy, plump lady keeps coming back. My husband keeps saying" no, no, no". The shop owner keeps saying "yes, yes, yes" and "What does he know about woman's clothes?" My son leans deeper into the clothes display hoping to be anywhere but here. I finally choose a boring loose, white linen top with a small red elephant on the pocket. The short, frumpy , plump lady looks a little less frumpy and plump. My husband nods yes. The shop owner nods a slow yes. The linen top isn't cheap but what about the matching drawstring pants? My son has his face buried in the clothes. As my husband paid I looked at pictures of people wearing their Alabama outfits. There was the shop owner's wife in an adorable, cute, cute outfit. She has not eaten a brownie since 1982.

Tuscaloosa

We are headed to Tuscaloosa, Alabama tomorrow for the son at home to register for classes and his orientation. He is staying in a dorm. My husband and I are staying in a dorm too. We might get to share a room since we are married. My husband started complaining about being in a dorm room. He was informed the dorm was $30.00/night and a hotel $125.00. That put a lid on that. Yesterday was the day I could register for Family Weekend with football tickets at University of Alabama. Yesterday was the day everyone could buy their season tickets to the games. This event began at 8:00 a.m. central time. I hopped right on with the rest of the Crimson Tide Cult at exactly 9:00 a.m. eastern time. There were so many people online for football tickets that Alabama's computer system went down. I did get my football tickets and hotel tickets before the major crash. I had to register this morning again for Family Weekend. Bad economy be damned in Tuscaloosa! The Crimson Tide followers aren't letting that interfere with their football season. My goal for having a child at University of Alabama is to be able to pronounce and spell Tuscaloosa (without spell check) by the time he graduates.
I am sorry if I confused anyone by the limo statement. Since I founded the Popular Girls and like to complain of fatigue and being puny, I get rides up the mountain. The Popular Girls refer to that as Diane's limo ride. Another car load of Popular Girls was supposed to drive ahead of our car with lights flashing. This would announce my arrival to Brevard. They forgot. They were in too big of a hurry to hit the shops in Brevard.
P.S. Jerry Mathers, the Beaver in Leave To Beaver, is 61 today. That is painful to think about. Almost as painful as the butterfly tattoos I saw Saturday.




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Tattoos

The Popular Girl Retreat was too fun. My stomach aches from all the laughing. The weather was beautiful. The mountains were spectacular. I put a rose on my Granny's grave. I was glad to be home. I learned to spin yarn on a spinning wheel. My first published book will probably be an instructional spinning book. I am already an exceptional spinner. I was picked up at home by a limo. Being chauffeur driven allowed me to enjoy the sights coming up and back. On the trip up we passed a group of motorcycles in Shelby. One particular motorcycle caught my eye. The passenger was a middle aged woman. I don't think anyone told her she was middle aged. She wore a helmet,skin tight jeans, and a string bikini top. Her skin was tanned to shoe leather with sun damage spots all over her back. Folds and folds of belly fell over the jean waistband. Some time in her youth she had tattooed butterflies flying across her abdomen. With all the fat folds the tattoos looked like someone had dumped a butterfly jigsaw puzzle on her belly. There were just random parts of butterflies showing. A wing here, an antenna there, another wing up there - so many parts were hidden in folds. That is the reason I did not get that butterfly tattoo on my butt thirty years ago in Provincetown at the Cape.