Passengers

Most times when I head to my car, I have a couple of "buddies" that try to tag along. If it's a short trip or one that doesn't require a long wait in a parking lot, then usually I'll let 'em go with me.

There was some tricky camera work going on here. I wish I could reveal how I did it, but then I'd have to kill you. Shhhhh...top secret.

G'morning...It's Five O'Clock

I know I've mentioned that Angie works nights. You're probably thinking, "Whew, that's not for me." Maybe you're right. It's not for everyone, but Angie appears to like it just fine. Over the course of her 16-year nursing career, she has probably worked nights 75% of the time.

Now, I could go on and on about differences between working nights and days. But one thing that always seemed weird to me is waking up and eating supper for breakfast. Angie usually sleeps until 5 PM; and I always try to have a supper...uh, I mean breakfast, waiting. But since she usually eats breakfast...uh, I mean supper, with me when she gets off in the mornings, I typically will prepare a regular meal for supper. It could be baked salmon, couscous, and black beans like we had last night, or it could be something like grilled burgers and chips. It doesn't really matter what I cook, Angie is always happy.

There's one more thing that I would not allow if I were working nights...dogs...dogs in my house...dogs in my bed. Our dogs bark at different things throughout the day. It would drive me crazy, but not Angie. She loves these animals and doesn't mind when they interrupt her sleep. The first time one of these "yappers" woke me up in the middle of a day's sleep, he'd be an outside dog. Oh, but Angie just loves them no matter what.

I'm including a photo to show you an actual wake-up moment. I don't have to say much to Angie to get her up. All I have to do is walk in the room and lean over the bed. The dogs usually do the rest of the work.

"G'morning, honey, it's 5:00. How would you like some red beans and rice for breakfast?"

Boing, Boing, Boing, Boing, Boing

"What has eight legs, eight eyes, and looks like it bites really hard?"

"I don't know, what?"

"I don't know either, but it's crawling on you right now."

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!!!!"

Do you remember that joke from childhood? Angie and I were going for our run this morning, but something caught Angie's eye before we left. Evidently, a garden orb spider {that's what I think it was...I'm certainly no expert} spun an elaborate web in our carport last night. And it was doing the craziest thing. Watch the video and see for yourself.

Special message for all you spider-lovers out there...please note at the end of the video that no spiders were harmed during the filming of this vignette. I've said it before, I'll say it again...we run a strict "catch and release" program around here...wink, wink. ;-)

Shake, Shake, Shake...Shake, Shake, Shake...

Somewhere in the deep recesses of my brain, there's a little shaker. I've never seen the shaker and I really don't know what it looks like. Well, you might ask, "How do you know you have a shaker, then, if you've never seen it?" My answer, "Because somebody told me I had one, that's why...DUH!"

Years ago, I sold life insurance for a living. Scratch that, I worked in the life insurance business...I didn't do a lot of selling. I remember coming home from work one day and telling Angie, "You know, I love this job so much that I'd do it even if I didn't get paid." She replied, "That's obvious...you're not making any money." Good one, Angie...good one.

The life insurance business is tough. The agency I worked for wanted all new agents to report for work at 7:00 in the morning. No prob, Bob...right? But you wind up seeing some clients at their home during the night. Many times I didn't get home until 9:00 or 10:00. That's a long day any way you slice it. Plus, an agent hears the word "no" a whole bunch of times during the day. {I hear that enough at home...hehe.} I struggled at the business for three years.

At one point in my career, I worked with a veteran agent that catered to an affluent clientele. Before he decided to take me under his wing, he put me through a battery of tests to determine if I had what it takes to make it in the business. After taking what seemed like an infinite series of psychological namby-pamby questionnaires, he sat me down and discussed what the tests revealed. That's when I found out I had a shaker in my head.

He told me that my shaker was always sifting through information...trying to reveal the truth...trying to find the best. He said that no matter what was thrown at me, I'd run it through the shaker and determine if it was worthy or not. He also said the shaker was what made me competitive. I'll bet most of y'all didn't know that I have a serious competitive problem. I do a good job of hiding it most of the time. Please don't challenge me to anything or I might get ugly...that's U - G - L - Y and I ain't got no alibi.

The shaker is a burden. Do you know how many times I write and rewrite narrative blogs? It's a good thing I can get by with a few hours sleep. Well, here's what bugging me tonight...I just found a site called: http://www.bloggerschoiceawards.com/

WHAT THE...?!?

Now all I can think about is how do I get nominated...how can I get recognized...how can I win an award? Arrrrgggghhhh...dang shaker! Oh well, I'm just gonna turn the computer off and go to bed. {I'll probably dream about the stupid blog awards all night.}

By the way...funny thing happened...after working with veteran agent for a short while, I determined he wasn't worthy of my allegiance. So I left. He had no one to blame but himself. Can somebody give me an "amen?"

Throwing Down the Gaunlet

The attached movie is my effort to show that I can make a funnier video with leftovers than Matt can with his "A-game" and "prime-time" players.

Trust me, I don't like talking smack...but it ain't braggin' if ya dunnit.

Lost In Translation

Angie had another class in New Orleans yesterday, which meant we were road warriors again. We drove to New Orleans and came back through Baton Rouge to visit Meredith on our way home.

All week long Meredith has been working rush, which is the process fraternities and sororities use to recruit new members. However, this year, Meredith specifically worked for a Greek recruitment council made up of girls from different sororities. Their job was to facilitate the "rushees" through the process. During the week, Meredith and others on the council were provided living arrangements at Lod Cook, LSU's Alumni Association hotel. It's located on campus and it's a very nice place. Turns out, Meredith occupied a room with three other girls.

Here's where it gets funny. She said that the housekeeping crew apparently was Hispanic; and she decided to make a good impression on them by speaking in their native tongue. On Tuesday morning, the housekeeping crew arrived earlier than expected and Meredith and her roommates were still getting dressed.

So Meredith asked them to come back later...speaking in Spanish. Unfortunately, Meredith cannot speak fluent Spanish. She gave it her best shot, though; but it went downhill quickly. The syntax was incorrect and she used a couple of wrong words. How did she know? Because the housekeeping crew did not show up again all week! On Friday morning, Meredith had to go back to the housekeeping crew and beg them to clean the room. They happily obliged...but Meredith still wonders what she said to them on that first day.

I guess we can file this under "Oopsy Daisy."

Precious

Today would have been my mother's 86th birthday. Unfortunately, she passed away in 2006. I miss her so much; but, rather than write a teary-eyed narrative, I want to honor her by remembering the things that were uniquely Lil.

Lillian was her given name, but most folks knew her as "Lil." She was the sort of person that didn't draw a lot of attention to herself. Rather, she was quite comfortable remaining behind the scenes. This does not mean that she was a wallflower, because she wasn't. She spoke her mind and was personable with everyone she came in contact with. She was a beautiful woman. When I look at the photos of her when she was younger, I know why my dad was smitten with her.



I went to elementary school at Lexington and she would usually be one of the first in line to pick me up at the end of the day. Most days, she would have a treat waiting for me at home. She made the most delicious pound cake ever! Do you know how special it is to come home from a full day of school and have a warm pound cake waiting on you...the smell of a freshly baked cake wafting through the house? And there was always a cold glass of chocolate milk sitting beside the cake. Mmmmmm!

One of my favorite memories was how exasperated she got with me one day. I had problems with tonsillitis often as a young lad, which meant that I made frequent trips to the doctor. Back in those days, if you had an infection, the doctor gave you a shot...no questions...no negotiating. I hated shots and, because of my tonsils, I had to get one about once every two to three months. One afternoon she drove me to the doctor's office, pulled in the parking lot, and told me to get out of the car. I told her I wasn't going in. She said firmly, "Get out, now!" I didn't budge. So she got out of the car, went over to some bushes, and yanked off a switch. Now, my momma could wear me out with a switch, but I had a plan that day. When she tried to open the passenger-side door, I jumped into the back seat. She walked around to the door closest to me and I jumped back into the front seat. This little cat-and-mouse game went on for about five minutes...back and forth over the seats. Oooooweee, was she mad?! Trust me, the shot didn't hurt near as bad as the whipping did.

She was really a kind and gentle woman, though. Mom consistently told me how much she loved me. She would often say, "If you were laying in a ditch full of sewage, I'd pick you up, clean you off, hug and kiss you. That's what mommas do...they love their children no matter what." I believed her.



From looking at her, you wouldn't believe that she was a huge boxing fan. She knew and understood boxing strategy probably better than the present generation knows UFC and mixed martial arts fighting. And Katie-bar-the-door if you got between her and the television set while a fight was in progress. Now get this picture: a mild, meek woman sitting in a recliner...screaming "Hit him upside the head! Now, hit him in the body! That's it, that's it! Knock him out!" It was a sight to see, to say the least.

Mom loved to sing. Later in life, she kept a songbook close by at all times. When someone dropped by on a visit, she'd pull out the songbook and ask the guest if they wanted to sing some songs...and it was always a cappella. She sang with such conviction...even if she didn't remember the melody. And she'd laugh at herself when she hit a sour note. Trust me, her smile could light up a room.



She was partially paralyzed from a stroke she experienced in 1986. But her spirit was always determined. Before the doctors released her from the hospital in '86, they told the family that we could help her rehabilitation by getting her to perform routine tasks during the day. So, we all made a conscious effort to get her back on a normal track. Angie and I decided that we'd get her to make us some hot dogs for lunch one day. We figured that heating up some chili and warming up some wieners should be easy enough. We arrived at her house and, amazingly, she had everything prepared just right. So, we sat down to eat. Angie and I went on and on about how good the lunch looked. Mom poured a bunch of chili on top of her bun and started eating. About half way through the hot dog, she exclaimed, "My wienie keeps slipping away. I've taken several bites but have only gotten bun and chili." After careful examination, we noted that she forgot to put the wiener on the bun. I'll bet we laughed for thirty minutes. In fact, I almost choked from laughing so hard.

The family all poked fun at how she talked. She had this way of speaking in this high-pitched vernacular. It was endearing and funny at the same time. Plus, she could be rather persistent with her line of questioning. When I was in college circa 1981, I came home one day for lunch and she had fried some chicken. I was in a hurry because I had another class at one o'clock. I made my plate, which included a piece of chicken, French fries, and some black-eyed peas. I also squirted some ketchup on the plate for my fries. After we sat down to eat, Mom asked me, (please remember to use a high-pitched tone when you read her part) "Mark, do you want some ketchup for your fries?" "No, I've already got some ketchup." A few minutes later... "Mark, don't you want some ketchup?" "No, Mom, I've already got some ketchup." A few minutes pass again... "Mark, are you sure you don't want any ketchup for your fries?" "Mom, for the last time, I already have ketchup!" Moments later... "I'll bet your fries would taste better if you'd put some ketchup on 'em." "You know, Mom, you're right. Give me the dang ketchup." I don't recall exactly what I did, but I probably squirted more ketchup on my plate than ten men could eat. I calmed down a few minutes later and she asked, "Those fries taste better with ketchup, don't they?" "Yes m'am." Her tenacity was truly amazing.



One Saturday in October 2006, I received a call from her assisted living home. They said that my mom had fallen and they didn't know what to do. I told them to call an ambulance immediately and I'd be right there. John and I promptly left for her apartment. When we arrived, she was sitting on the floor, just in front of her recliner. She said to me, "Mark, I was backing up to sit down and just missed the chair." Although she was in a great deal of pain, she still smiled when she saw me. We were able to get her repositioned in her chair but she was hurting really bad. A good while before, she had fallen at home and broken her hip, and I was afraid that she had done it again. The rehab for the first broken hip was almost more than she could bear.

After we arrived at the hospital, in typical fashion, they made her wait in a cold examination room for hours. They offered her no pain medicine and didn't attend to her much. {I could do a whole week's worth of blogs on the ER and their apparent lack of compassion...but I won't.} While we were there, she and I had some good discussions. She talked about the family and how much she loved everyone of the kids, grandkids, and great grandkids. She spoke lovingly about each and every one. Eerily, we talked about the sudden death of one of our friends from church. A healthy, athletic lady had died the day before and Mom and I both agreed that we didn't know when God would call us home...so we better be ready. But mostly, I remember Mom telling me how much she loved me. She became very serious at one moment. She reached out and held my hand and said, "Mark, when you were born, all I could think of was...this baby is precious. You know, that's what you are...precious. You always have been...precious." I didn't know what to say or what to think. I was so overwhelmed by her tender words. And I kept thinking, "No, Mom, you're precious."

That night, my mom passed away suddenly. Apparently, a blood clot, caused by her fractured hip, made its way to her heart. God called her home. But trust me, she was ready. And you know what I'll bet God said to her as she entered heaven? "Welcome home, precious."

Duck, Duke...Duke, Duck

Fetch it up, Duke!

While playing fetch with Duke the other day, my neighbor, Edward, asked if we'd ever tried to get Duke to fetch a duck. My answer, of course, was "no." Y'see, I don't duck hunt. Eddie does and he had a frozen duck in his freezer that he fetched to see if our dog would fetch. (I love that sentence. /smiles/) Eddie also brought his lab, Abby, over to teach Duke. Duke didn't want anything to do with the duck at first. But after Abby fetched it a couple of times, he decided that he'd give it shot after all.

The other portions of the video are self-explanatory. All except the part where Scooter is whining. I forgot to tell you that Eddie brought a cap gun and shot it to see if Duke would be bothered by a loud noise. Duke was generally unaffected. Scooter, on the other hand, reverted back to his more sensitive side and started doing the "man voice." (If you don't know what the "man voice" is, then by all means search my previous blogs for a video by the same name.)

This whole post is really just a little "happy" for Meredith, who is beginning to miss her companion, I presume. Her mom and I put these two videos together to make her smile.

8,766 Days...Piece of Cake

I don't know if my math is correct or not, but it's close. Twenty four years times three hundred sixty five days equals 8,760...plus add in the leap years. Another way to say the same thing is 757,382,400 seconds and counting...

Huh?!?

Angie and I are celebrating our anniversary today. You see, we were married on 8/18/1984. I don't recall the actual time of the wedding, but it was in the afternoon, and...it was hotter than blue blazes. Someone forgot to turn the air conditioner on at our church the morning of the wedding. By the time everyone showed up, it was uncomfortably warm in the sanctuary.

Before the wedding, I remember hanging out in one of the church's class rooms...clowning around with my buddies. One of my groomsmen found a box of wooden clothes-pins and started hanging them on unsuspecting people. Instead of doing the usual "fly-check" that most guys do before going out in public, we were all checking to see if we had clothes-pins hanging from our tuxes. I remember walking out in front of everybody and thinking, "This is so cool! People actually came to see me and Angie get married."

I remember sweat pouring down my back as I waited for my bride to enter. I wasn't nervous...it was just friggin' hot in there. I remember Angie's veil was up as she walked down the aisle. Her dad had lifted it to give her a kiss before they entered, but they forgot to put it back down. I remember thinking, "Bend your knees...don't faint...bend your knees...don't faint."

I remember Angie getting mixed up during the vows and saying the wrong thing. The pastor had asked her to repeat, "I, Angie, take thee, Mark." But for some reason, when Angie said it, it came out, "I, Angiemark." We laughed. I remember the wedding ring was stuck on the ring bearer's pillow and one of my groomsmen asked if we needed to borrow his pocketknife. Y'see, during the rehearsal, the ring kept falling off. So I tied it on to the pillow with a double knot and forgot about it. When it was "go time" at the wedding, the ring was secure! I wrestled with that thing for a few uncomfortable minutes before I got it loose. Again, we laughed.

I remember thinking, "That song is taking FOREVER." During rehearsal, we decided we'd light a candle while one of our friends sang "You Light Up My Life." During the rehearsal, we didn't actually perform the song. We just said, "At this point, sing the song and we'll light the unity candle." It didn't take 10 seconds to light the candle...that goofy song took over three minutes to finish. Angie and I just stood there while everyone stared at us. Uncomfortable, but another laugh.

I remember Angie running out to our car after the ceremony...by herself. She and I were poised to run and my dad asked me a question right at the wrong time. Angie took off running, and I stayed inside to answer my father's question. She took a "mother lode" of rice...on her own!

I remember going to the car wash to clean the Camaro before we left town. Our car had been decorated with all kinds of typical stuff. But most of it was shaving cream, which can ruin a car's finish. I stopped at the self car wash and started the power sprayer. All of a sudden, Angie, who was still inside the car, started beating on the window. Unbeknownst to me, water was shooting in from under the T-tops and soaking Angie. She beat so hard on the window that she broke a ceramic ring she had just received as a wedding present. Inside the ring, someone had painstakingly painted this quote, "Angie and Mark forever." We were sickened by the sight of the ceramic pieces in Angie's hand. Then she stated, "I hope this isn't an omen." We hadn't been married an hour yet, and "Angie and Mark forever" was gone.

I remember going out to eat at the most wonderful place in Jackson that night. However, when the maître d' asked me how many was in our party, I stuttered when I said, "Mmm-my wife and I...just two." I wasn't accustomed to saying "wife" yet. I remember waking up in a panic at our hotel in Jackson in the middle of the night. We thought a fire alarm was going off. Turns out that the couple in the next room was using the jacuzzi at 3:00 in the morning and the sound bleeding through our wall sounded like an alarm.

I remember spending a couple of peaceful, restful days at the beach. I remember the sights and sounds of the World's Fair. In 1984, the World's Fair was in New Orleans and we spent a couple of days there. I remember having the best frozen pina colada at the fair. The bartender made it with typical ingredients...but he added a big scoop of vanilla ice cream. Mmmm...tasty!

You know, it's fun to sit back and remember what happened during that day and days immediately following. But those were only a few days. When you stack them up against another 8,760 days, the count seems rather insignificant. They were our first steps in an on-going journey, though.

I consider myself blessed, not lucky, that my marriage is still in tact. Not every marriage works out and not every couple is meant to stay together for 8,766 days. But praise be to God, Angie and I are still making it happen. Yeppers, it's a piece of cake, guys!

Angie and her parents


Me and my parents


Walking down the aisle


The Wedding Party


Surrounded by flowers


Cutting the Cake


The Garter


The Couple

Wake Up Call

I've mentioned in previous blogs that Duke really likes fetching balls. In reality, he has an OCD problem with balls. If Angie and I are sitting at the table eating breakfast and Duke finds a ball, he brings it to us...over and over and over. He usually will start by dropping the ball at our feet and staring. Not a casual stare like I might look at a beautiful sky, but a white-hot-laser-beam-focused-on-nothing-else stare. (It's probably similar to how my freind, Stephanie, looks at new books. hehe)

If we don't acknowledge that a ball is present at our feet, he picks it up and puts it in one of our laps. Yep...there's nothing like a wet tennis ball rolling around your crotch to give you a special morning up-and-at-em wake up. Eventually, one of us will cave in and kick the ball. But it's like giving a rock to a crack addict because it starts an endless cycle.

I took him out to play the other morning...after the torrential rainfall. {By the way, Lake Adcock had drained because the city workers finally turned on the celebrated pumps.} I throw the ball...he fetches...the fun begins. He's really good about bringing the ball back. Too bad he's not so polished on letting me have the ball afterwards. I have to fight with him every time to get it out of his mouth. This can go on for hours because Duke will not quit. I'm convinced he would play until he keeled over and died. So, we'll play a little while and then I make him go in for water.

This video will show you what I'm talking about. I hope you like the music too. It's the James Harman Band performing "Wake Up Call." Appropriate, don't you think?



P.S. Daniel figured out a way to get him to release the ball. First we bring two balls out. We throw one; and, when he gets back with the ball in his mouth, we show him the other ball. He drops the one in his mouth and waits for the second ball to be thrown. The second ball is launched and he takes off running. Then we can easily pick up the first ball and start the cycle again. Brilliant!

If This Had Been An Actual Emergency...

This is a test. For the next three minutes, this blog will conduct a test of the Emergency Videocast System. This is only a test.

Please watch the attached video. If you see something funny in the video, please make a comment. We, at pard1959, are testing a theory that if you add a certain ingredient to your cooking, then everyone will enjoy your soup.

Heaven Must Be A Little Like Powdered Sugar

mmmm...beignets from Cafe Du Monde


Remember...I always have to put
up with this type of behavior


But so does Angie


She loves Cafe Du Monde

I know that's a crazy title, but I didn't know what to call this post. I just wanted everyone to understand that my baby-mama loves Cafe Du Monde. I've attached a few pics and a video for those of you who don't like to read long blogs. Y'see, I have a bad habit. If you ask me what time it is, I'm likely to tell you how the clock works. So, impatient peeps...watch the short video and then move on to another web page. All others, please scroll down to the narrative for an awe-inspiring, true-life story of God working through the hands of a doctor.




For those who want more...here's the story...

Angie became ill in 1996. It started out with some rather bizarre symptoms. She woke up one morning and one of her feet was numb. She said it was similar to having your foot go to sleep, but it stayed that way all day. The next morning, her other foot was numb. I told her she probably had pinched a nerve. We had just moved to our present house and I figured that she strained her back picking up boxes. On the third day, one of her thumbs went numb. On the fourth day, the opposite hand's little finger was numb. Finally, she had a circular area on her torso go numb. We were completely perplexed.

In the second week, tiny red bumps began appearing on her lower legs. Plus, her feet began hurting...a completely different sensation from numbness. She went to a doctor here in Monroe, but no diagnosis was made. She went to another doctor, and then another, and finally another. Each doctor wanted to do different tests, but not one of them knew what was causing the unusual symptoms. Eventually, the pain became unbearable. She described it as having someone wrap her feet in chicken wire...tighter than she could bear...and then the chicken wire was lit on fire. She was miserable to say the very least.

In October, she visited her parents in Mobile and her father made her an appointment with his dermatologist. The red bumps on her legs were now black and scabbed over...similar to a wound. The dermatologist asked Angie this question, "You're an R.N, but you don't know what gangrene looks like?" She was astounded and answered, "Yes, I know what it looks like...I just didn't expect to see it on me!" He told her that she needed to go to Ochsner Medical Center in New Orleans...immediately! He made her an appointment the very next day.

This won't be easy, but I'll try to be concise. She saw a couple of doctors at Ochsner's and they were intrigued with her symptoms. They took photos of the sores on her legs and asked if they could use the photos in a medical journal. One decided to refer her to a neurologist that worked on "special" cases. Unfortunately, we had to wait a couple of weeks to see him. We went back to New Orleans the week before Thanksgiving in 1996. The neurologist had scheduled a battery of tests before we were to meet him; and the worst one was the nerve conduction test. They started by placing electrical probes into Angie's feet and sent electric currents into her body. The test determines how fast nerves can send a signal. It also discovers if nerves are damaged. Over the course of 30 to 45 minutes, the doctor ran electrical signals from Angie's toes all the way up to her head. At the end of the procedure, she was curled up in the fetal position...bawling. A few minutes later, we met the guy responsible for ordering this medieval torture. When he entered our examination room, I actually thought one of the psychiatric patients had gotten lose and put on a doctor's lab coat. He was so full of confidence and energy. His name...Dr. Kevin McKinley. He immediately told us that he knew what Angie's disease was and he knew how to treat it. No one else had even told us anything close to that...and he was the 10th doctor Angie had seen. He told us it would require 18 to 36 months of chemotherapy followed by high doses of steroids. Do what?!?!

I had serious reservations and asked for a second opinion from another doctor at Ochsner's. The other doctor told me that my question should be, "Do we do the chemo here in New Orleans or do we go back home for the treatment with someone who has never seen this disease?" We started the chemo at Ochsner's the next day and we set up a schedule for monthly treatments in the oncology clinic.

We tried to make the trips down to N.O. as fun as we could. Well, at least before the treatments. Because afterwards, Angie was always sick and tired. One month we'd stop at a casino in Vicksburg. The next trip we'd take the kids to the city park and mall. But, no matter what, we always went to the French Quarter, visited the flea market, and ate beignets at Cafe Du Monde. It made Angie feel better...and, it still does to this day.

In closing, I'll tell you that the disease Angie had was extremely rare. Dr. McKinley called it Isolated Vasculitis with Multifocal Peripheral Nerve Involvement. He told us that her immune system was attacking her vascular system and was shutting off blood flow to random parts of her body. The chemotherapy caused Angie's immune system to shut down. Then, after treatment was stopped, her immune system woke back up and essentially reset itself. Dr. McKinley said it was similar to rebooting a computer. Crazy, but it worked. By the way, she only had to take nine months of chemotherapy. The high doses of steroids, which she took for 16 months, helped her blood flow during the process. Angie and I both give Dr. McKinley credit for saving her life. Had her immune system shut off blood flow to a major organ, we wouldn't have known until an autopsy was performed. It scares me to think about it. Sadly, we heard that Dr. McKinley committed suicide after Katrina. We don't know the whole story, but we still grieve his loss. We talked about him several times while we were in New Orleans this weekend. He was a great doctor. He loved jazz music...New Orleans-style food...difficult medical challenges...and...he loved his kids. He talked about them everytime we were there. Thanks to him, my wife gets to spend more time with our kids. Even if that means that they put powdered sugar on her in a public restaurant.

Why Is The Sky Crying?

We went to New Orleans on Thursday afternoon because Angie had to register at the LSU School of Nursing on Friday morning. She has decided to earn her Master's Degree in nursing and wants to eventually become a Nurse Practitioner. I'm very proud of her decision, but this is not going to be an easy task. She'll have to attend a class once a month in New Orleans for a couple of semesters; and then, who knows how many times she'll have to go down there?!

Similar to our trip to Baton Rouge last weekend, we turned this trip into a mini-vacation and stayed a couple of extra nights in the "Big Easy." This was our first trip back down there since December 2004, which was pre-Katrina. After Katrina, I told Angie that I'd never go back down there again. I was furious with the lack of leadership on the local, state, and federal level after the storm. Most importantly, I was angered by what some of the local leaders had said. I was intent to shake their dust off my shoes and never show up again. Over the past three years, I've realized that I wasn't going to be able to stick to my plans. There are certain things that you can only do in New Orleans....i.e., Angie going back to school. So, reluctantly, I went. We had a good time and you'll get to see more of our trip on my blog this week as I offer photos and videos from our stay.

Now to the important business of the day. Meredith has officially gone back to Baton Rouge for her senior year at LSU. That means Marky is now the proud guardian of an overgrown lummox. According to Meredith, Duke has a routine; and I have to follow it or else....

First on the "to do" list is the early morning play time. Meredith has been taking Duke out every morning and playing with him. At 7:00 this morning, I could hear him becoming very restless. So, I hopped up and took him out to play.

However, this morning, the sky was crying. I can't remember the rain coming down like this since we've had Duke. He ran out; and, at first, didn't know what to do with the pond in our street. He began by wading through the water. Then, he stuck his nose under the water a couple of times! He was literally blowing bubbles up from under the water! That's when I decided to record the event for Meredith. Truthfully, this is appropriate weather since this is Duke's first day without his mommy. The sky was crying to let everyone know that Duke misses Meredith.

Overall he did fine...he sure can get wet, though. Well, I better go find a mop.

Backyard Lizard

I enjoy studying creatures. If I would have understood this earlier in life, I probably would have chosen a different course of study at college. Don't get me wrong, I've never placed myself on the same level as Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter; but, just because I don't know diddly about what I'm filming, doesn't mean I don't have fun watching...and observing.

Angie finds lizards in her flower garden on our deck all of the time. She usually gets my attention and I come running with the camera. Taking photos and making films like this is so easy. But my camera doesn't always cooperate on focusing. You know, these new fool-proof cameras never were tested by me before they hit the market. The only real danger in filming like this is mosquito bites. I never have enough time to put on "Off" before I run outside. So, as your viewing these photos, realize that I've sacrificed my well-being in order to get you the money-shot.


Baby lizard on Meredith's finger


Close up of the same photo


I messed with the ISO and it looks like
it's nighttime, but it's not


Another ISO setting


Extreme close-up

Don't Stand So Close To Me

Most of you who know me know that I'm perfectly comfortable talking to just about anyone about anything. The gift of gab was handed down to me by my father; but, trust me, I didn't get but maybe 25% of what he had. My dad could find middle ground with anyone he met...and have them laughing within a few minutes. It was truly entertaining to watch him tell stories to old friends, new friends, or anyone that would lend an ear. There weren't many of his stories that I hadn't heard over and over. But I enjoyed listening to them again because it was intriguing to see how he would embellish an old story to make it more amusing...more insightful...more rewarding.

I tell you this to set up my next story from the weekend. While in Baton Rouge, we went to Blue Bayou Water Park and Dixie Landin'. Blue Bayou is just what you'd expect from a water park...numerous slides and tubes to get your adrenaline flowing. Dixie Landin' is also located on the site and it offers coasters and other rides you'd normally find at larger amusement parks. They stagger the opening hours...so you go to the water park from 10 until 6; and the amusement park is opened from 2 until 10.

We made it to the park around noon on Sunday and secured a locker for our valuables. Next we headed to the Azuka, which is one of their most popular rides. You mount a 4-person raft and go shooting into a gigantic funnel that is laid on its side. Wild, wild ride! I probably swallowed a gallon of water because I was screaming at the wrong time.


Here's where my story is going to take a turn. We enjoyed the rides. The park appeared clean enough. But where did all of the WLP's come from? What's a WLP? Hold your horses, I'll get to that later. We stood in line to ride the Azuka for about 45 minutes. Since this is their most popular ride, we expected a long wait. Now, you know when you go to Six Flags or Disneyworld, you always wind up standing in line for an attraction. You always see the same faces of people in front and in back of you during the wait. It's almost as if you form a tiny bond with these folks...ever so briefly. I like to observe people. I find it's interesting to wonder what's happening in their lives. I wonder how couples met and I wonder about how different groups of people became friends. {I'm the guy that will give a courtesy wave to people I stood in line with...hours after the ride is over. I know, I'm unusual. Actually, I like to use the word "unique".}

Well, in the Azuka line, there was a couple with a young boy standing behind us. Both the man and lady had to be in their late 30's/early 40's. The boy was probably 11 or 12. The man was the child's father. I knew this because the woman kept referring to the man as the boy's dad..."ask your dad...tell your dad...your dad will have to..." But the boy never called the lady "mom." Instead, he called her by a first name. So...chances are, the man was dating the woman or she had become the kid's step-mom. All of this doesn't really matter. What does matter is the adults were some WLP's, aka, Weird Looking People.

Now just because they were WLP's doesn't give me any right to make fun of them. In fact, all three of us (Daniel, Angie, and me) probably looked liked WLP's to them. But what rubbed me the wrong way was....exactly that...they rubbed me the wrong way. Huh?!? The whole time we were in line, the man and the lady kept invading my personal space and rubbing me. Not in an inappropriate way...just touching me...off and on for 45 minutes. It didn't matter how far up the stairs I climbed, they were right behind me. I felt like I was doing a ballet with these idiots. Not to mention, it was about a 100+ freakin' degrees...standing on that stairwell...sun beating down on us like a hammer. Trust me, I was sweating bullets. There were pores on my body that haven't released that much perspiration in a long time.

Here's where it gets gross. The lady kept bending over and messing with her flip-flops, picking at the scabs on her legs...I dunno what she was doing. Everytime she did, she'd shove her full head of hair on to my sweat-soaked back. #1) It tickled me in a uncomfortable way, and #2) I was putting a conditioner in her hair that Clairol won't get out. This went on for what seemed like an eternity. Plus, when the lady spoke, she sounded like Pete Fox's sister. {Pete was a country-bumpkin character I played in a dinner theater.} I found myself unwilling and unable to communicate with these folks. Call me a prude...but I wouldn't invite those people over for dinner. For that matter, I wouldn't invite 98% of the people at that park over to dinner.

Why? There are a myriad of reasons....primarily, rude, crude behavior. I saw moms screaming at their kids and telling them they were gonna kick their @sses. These parents wanted their kids to act like adults, but the problem was the parents were acting like toddlers. I saw teens who thought (and, unfortunately like many people in America think today) that profanity enhances conversation. When you use profanity as a noun, verb, adverb, and adjective in the same sentence, it proves that you are an imbecile....not a gansta. I saw piercings and tattoos in places that no one should pierce or tattoo. I saw one dad with three kids; and the dad had both of his nipples pierced. I'll bet that's a big hit at his company's picnic.

There are other things that rubbed me the wrong way, but you've probably heard enough. I don't want you to come away from this story thinking we didn't have a good time, because we did. We did it up big! I'd go again should the opportunity arise. We laughed and were thrilled by many, many rides. However, if you ever see me in my bathing suit, don't stand so close to me. Observe the 2-step rule. Stay two steps away from me at all times....or I'll write another blog complaining about it. And next time, I naming names!

Daniel on the Flying Pirogues


The high-pitched squeal is Daniel. He and I are on the top
row, left of center.

All three of us on the Flying Pirogues. This turned out to be
our favorite ride. I quit filming on Angie at the bottom, but
she went all the way out of the water onto the painted safety
area. I didn't see anyone else at the park go that far.

I Gotta Go Suck Up To A Doctor

Say what??? You heard me...I gotta go suck up to a doctor.

Wait a minute. You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? Please allow me to elaborate.

We drove to Baton Rouge this weekend to help Meredith move back into her sorority house. Plus, we've been planning on doing a little mini-vacation. So, we took off for the "red stick" on Saturday morning with leisure on our minds.

The first thing we wanted to do was check out the Old South Winery in Natchez, Mississippi.



My buddy, Scott, had been telling me about this place for about two years. We figured this trip would be a good time to go see it. Angie has always loved wine...well, ever since I came into her life. You see, on our second date, Angie cooked a delicious meal for me at her apartment. I wanted to impress her by bringing a nice bottle of wine. {I fancy myself to be a real Casanova....ha!} I picked up a bottle of Riesling {thanks for the recommendation, Kax} and I even bought Angie a corkscrew wine opener. Good thing, because she didn't have one. Well, the meal was perfect and she loved the wine. Six weeks later, I gave her a set of wine glasses and a diamond ring....but let's save that story for another blog. In fact, I think I'll save the story about the Old South Winery for another blog too. Good wine...more to come.

Heck, did you forget? I gotta go suck up to a doctor. Maybe I should cut to the chase.



On Saturday night, we went out to eat...late. We had stopped at the Myrtles in St. Francisville {saving for another blog} and we had to find a hotel for the night {no, we never book ahead of time...we live life fast and furious...it's no fun if you know where you're gonna stay when you leave the house}. So, by the time we found a hotel and unpacked, it was around 9:00. We tossed around several restaurants, but we eventually settled on P.F. Chang's China Bistro...one of Meredith's favorite dining pleasures. Angie had eaten there once with Meredith, but Daniel and I were making our maiden voyage. This place was packed...even at 9:30! We waited about 45 minutes for a table; but boy, was it worth the wait! We were so hungry, we memorized the menu while we sat in the lobby. When our waiter arrived, we placed our orders and asked for the food...pronto...ASAP...PDQ.



Our waiter was an affable fellow...sophomore at LSU...wants to go to law school...easily made small talk. But you gotta know...we were starving! We didn't order appetizers because we wanted the good stuff..."rat now" as my dad used to say. Our waiter made several trips to the table...filling water glasses...reassuring us that the order was placed...seeing if we needed anything. Now remember, this place is packed. People throughout this restaurant are busy eating, drinking, visiting, etc. We were in a semi-circular booth against the wall in the middle of the building. It seemed like we were hearing bits and pieces of every conversation, at every table. In fact, we had to raise our voices to hear one another as we casually talked. Don't get me wrong...we liked the atmosphere. But the noise level was instrumental in causing one of the biggest laughs of our entire day.

On one of his last trips to our table, our waiter stopped and said..."I gotta go suck up to a doctor." At least that's what I thought he said. He made the statement and left abruptly. I gave Angie my best bewildered look and asked her, "What did he say?!" You see, Angie usually has to interpret for me because I'm a little hard of hearing. Unfortunately, Angie looked a little confused too. She said, "I think he said, 'I gotta go suck up to a doctor.'" We immediately turned to Daniel and Meredith. Meredith said "Yep, that's what he said, 'I gotta go suck up to a doctor.'" There were a few seconds of silence and stunned stares. And then...we all burst into laughter...all at once. Loud laughter! Other-tables-turning-and-looking-at-us loud laughter. We must have laughed for three minutes straight.

Fortunately, the guy didn't come back to the table right away or I would have said something inappropriate...as is my way during times like these. We sat at the table and tried to reconstruct what he might have said. Our order is "next on the docket" was what we ultimately agreed was what he said. But I'm still not convinced. One thing is for certain, if I'm impatiently waiting for anything from now on, you can bet I'm gonna say "I gotta go suck up to a doctor." Because the next time we saw our waiter, we had food. Good food! It has to go down as one of my favorite restaurants. And if I'd known that all we needed to do to get our food fast was to suck up to a doctor, I'd been doing some heavy-duty hiney-kissing from the get-go. Can't you hear it now? "What's up doc? How you doin'?" =)

Brothers Don't Shake, Brothers Poke Fun

This is a pretty innocuous film...other than the fact that this is the first reference to Krystle being a momma. Priscilla and Krystle never knew when I was taking a photo or when I was videotaping them. In another film, which will be released later, Priscilla asked the question, "Are we filming or are we smiling?" I like to keep 'em guessing.

Pay attention to John's poke at Daniel and Meredith. Most of you will not understand because it's an inside joke. Suffice it to say that Daniel is impatient and Meredith is mean. There I said it. Now get over it.