LIFE IS WAY TOO SHORT

to be miserable. My friend, Sarah, is dying of cancer. She is a year younger than I am. Her death will be devastating to a lot of my friends as well. She fought a good fight, but she's losing and that is perhaps the worst thing of all. When I saw her in September, I was in my own personal version of hell. She had just been diagnosed and I thought for sure I would see her in March in Mississippi or even December when I went down to Arizona for Christmas. I couldn't find 2 hours at Christmas to go and visit her and by March, she wasn't doing very well. Now she is dying and I won't see her on this earth again. All I can do is pray her passing is peaceful and relatively pain free. I pray that she is lucid and can remember all the love she spread and all the people who love her back. Whenever you talked to her and you told her "I love you" she would always reply, I love you more.

That will be my honor to her. To live each day like it was my last and whenever anyone tells me they love me, I will respond--I love you more. It's not a competitive thing, but this whole thing has made me realize that you cannot waste one more day being in a situation that you can change. You have to be with the people you love more than anything and who love you back. If you don't like something--CHANGE IT! God gives you free will and expects you to use it to live the life He intended for you. Happiness is your legacy to your children. They learn from you and if they see you miserable, they will think it is okay to live that way. Life is one learning experience after another and according to my 90 year old Dad--sometimes those life lessons really suck. Suck or not--they do make you a better person and you take those lessons into other situations.

So, my challenge to you is to honor my friend Sarah. Tell someone that you love them, tell someone you are happy you met them and that they make your life better, do something for someone who always does for others or let them do something for you. Love every minute you've got on this earth, you never know when it will end.

Godspeed Sarah--save me a seat when I get there.

I AM THE BIGGEST DUMBASS EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD

I gotta admit, for most of my life, I have been spoiled. And by that I mean, I've never had to mow my own yard. Well, when I split from the ex-pita, that became one of my jobs, along with everything else.

I let my mom talk me into buying a manual mower "because I was in such good shape and all", but I didn't realize that you had to work really really hard to use the effing thing. So, as by my previous post, I bought a power mower.

Dragged it into the back yard last night and tried to start it. Wouldn't start. Went back to the garage to read the directions. Walked back to the back yard. Tried to start it again. Wouldn't start. Went back to the garage. Read some more directions. Back to the back yard. Couldn't start it again. Went back to the garage and took the gd directions with me. Finally got it started and almost cut the grass down to the dirt. Adjusted the height. Started mower again. Made approximately 4 passes. Lawn mower jams. Can't get it started again. Take bag off and empty it and notice that there is all kinds of grass up in the blades. Decide the grass is too wet and will try again the next day.

So today, the grass is a little drier and I drag the thing to the back yard again. This time, it only dies about 5 times and I get most of the grass cut. It's not pretty, but it's done and I weed whacked the edges.

The next time I get married, it's going in the vows. "I promise to love, honor and mow the lawn on a regular basis". In return, I will promise to pack his lunch (I got a great compliment on the lunches I bring to work every day), make snickerdoodles occasionally and iron a shirt for him once in awhile just to be nice. I think it's fair. Don't you?

THIS IS HOW EXCITING MY WEEKENDS ARE

First-on Friday night, I got out my trusty manual mower and mowed my front lawn. I decided that my mother is crazy and that I really should have just spent the money on a damn power mower, I don't care how small my yard is. Of course, the shoulder problems do have something to do with this bitchiness about the mower.

While I was dragging the damn thing out of the garage--I noticed there was a gd mouse in the mouse trap in the garage. Remember the live trap that I used with that other little effer? Only this one didn't look so live. I got all grossed out at the thought of having to drag the stupid thing to work to have the guys dump the carcass out, but went out and mowed my lawn. I decided that I could not possibly mow the back because it is just too hard and made the decision to go buy a power mower the next day.

So Saturday, I was supposed to do a 5K, but with all the 14 hour days I worked, I just couldn't bring myself to it. Instead, I got a full body massage and my neck and back haven't felt this good in years.

Saturday night--I was at Home Depot buying a lawn mower. Thank God for Ernest who put the thing together for me and Steve loaded it into my car. The only problem was--once I got home--I had to wrestle the damn thing out of my car. I have 2 lovely gashes on my knee. Saturday night at the Home Depot--yep--I live an exciting life as a single person.

My dad called and he asked if he could do anything for me. I said that he could come get the dead mouse out of the trap. He provided all sorts of reasonable advice about how I could do it and I told him that it was a trap that had to be opened and the mouse would drop out of it and that was my problem--I DIDN'T WANT TO TOUCH THE STUPID THING!! He said--well, I guess we've all got our issues.

Sunday, I decided that I had to be brave and get the mouse thrown away so that the trap could be reset. I put on gloves and opened the garage door in case he was still alive and got the trap open and this thing had been dead so long that he was basically mummified. Which grossed me out even more. But he fell right out into the trash can, where I immediately covered him up with newspapers and did the gross out dance.

Yes, I am ridiculous, but I hate mice and all their related ilk. So I was brave and disposed of him and reset the trap. Then I washed my hands and did something that made me happy--I baked cookies for my friend, the Marine. And played softball.

All in all, it was a good weekend.

A POST SCRIPT ABOUT EDNA'S HOUSE OF PSYCHICS AND A NEWFOUND TALENT

I have received several emails about my last post about fake accent Sara. People. It was simply a research thing. I really didn't give a crap about what she had to say. Really. As soon as I heard the fake accent--don't you think that I pretty much assumed everything about her was fake? Except for the pendulous boobs hanging to her waist. Those were real. Research. That's all. Just wanted to see what a $10 reading bought. Absolutely nothing but a laugh.

NOW for my newfound talent. I got a Text Message yesterday that several people from my softball team were meeting at a bar before the game (generally not a good thing) and if I could join them, that would be good. So I went and had a beer. One of the people had to leave and take her husband his clothes to change into and wanted me to put her part on her credit card. I really didn't feel comfortable, but said I would. I signed her slip and one of the guys said, let me see that. He looked at the card and at my signature of her name and said--THIS IS YOUR CARD! I said no it isn't--I am not XXXXXXXXXX. He said again--this is your card!!! I told him no, it wasn't. He looked for a third time and said--that's almost perfect. It was pretty good. I do have to admit.

Had a pretty good game--3 for 3 and some nice fielding. It's still gonna be a long season if my shoulder doesn't get better soon.

EDNA'S HOUSE OF PSYCHICS, educational institution, est. 1988

Now there probably isn't such a place, but in a discussion I had with some friends (the Coven) this week, we are all pretty sure that some psychics purchase a script from the above-referenced establishment.

I was in Chicago this week and was out walking on Michigan Avenue. There was a huge sign that said "Psychic Readings--$10". Okay--I gotta admit, I was up for some entertainment. It was muggy and I was sweating and I needed a laugh. Went in and rang the bell. This woman, with boobs that hung to her belly button and no bra, answered. She had bleach blonde hair and the WORST fake accent I have ever effing heard in my life. I almost couldn't go through with it on that alone.

So she has me shuffle the Tarot cards and pick a pile and think of 2 questions "One of which I will reveal to her and one I will keep secret". Okay, whatever.

So she asks me the question I want to reveal and I tell her. She starts with the reading. That I will get what I want, but there is a blockage--bad luck, if you will. But it is all spiritual and for $250, she will determine what the blockage is and clear it away from me. At this point, I am almost on the floor laughing--OUTLOUD. Any one who knows me knows EXACTLY what the hell is 'BLOCKING' me and believe me--it ain't spiritual. But it gets better. This $250 is for "materials" and she will do this after her business hours. 2 questions--what the hell materials costs $250? I thought that you could buy those religious candles at the Dollar store and incense, well, it can't possibly be more than a couple bucks. And----why does she have to do it after work hours? It wasn't like there was anyone else beating down fake accent Sara's door.

I brought this up to my friends and one suggested that she had to go to a cemetery to "unblock" my spiritual thing. I said, well, if that's what it is, can I pick the cemetery? Because I'd really like her to go to the one Harry Carey is buried in and clear whateverthehell is blocking the Cubs this year. They thought it would probably cost extra.

Another friend suggested a Fleet enema kit which could be purchased at Walgreens' for 10 bucks and my blockage could be cleared. She said to go ahead and put the $250 in the mail to her.

Anyway--I got a pretty good laugh and so did my friends--at my expense of course. Y'all are just plainassed lucky that I am willing to tell these stories on myself.

PS--an update on my Dad. He is pisst because his doc told him he could be playing golf 3 weeks after he broke his hip. Last night, he told me it had been 3 weeks and he wasn't playing golf yet.

PSS-softball season is in full swing. We were behind 12-0 last night and came back in the last inning to only one behind. 20-19. Didn't win, but had fun trying. I was batting in my favorite spot--lead off and went 3-4.

FINALLY! IT'S HERRREEEEE!

What could bring me to this level of enthusiasm on a Monday? Well--softball season has finally started! It's been a long 6 months. I haven't touched a softball since October 30, 2005, possibly the most sucky game I have ever played in. It was raining and then snowing and the wind was blowing and I had enough clothes on that I looked like the Michelin man. The only good thing about that day was that the Broncos handed the Eagles their asses on a platter and I had a particularly interesting bet with someone. But that's another story.

Anyway--I went to the batting cage and took some cuts. Wasn't ugly like I thought it would be, but I AM feeling it this morning. In my back and rib cage. Cannot figure out for the life of me why my rib cage hurts like a mother after the first batting practice of the season, but it does. Hate it.

Walked over to the field and stepped into warm up. The first ball I threw about put me on my knees and I believe I used the "eff" word. I hate this shoulder thing I've got going. Especially when they, and by they, I mean the doctors who have a lot more education than I do, can't figure out why it hurts. "Bursitis" is what they say, with a touch of arthritis and "biceps tendonitis". Crap, I don't do anything that warrants all that. Yes, I work out 5 days /week in one form or another (soon to be 6), but come on--this is ridiculous. And the Doc says "It's not old age". Whatever-just fix it. Unfortunately, I can only have 2 more cortisone shots this year (I'm saving em--just in case). There is no rotator cuff tear, but there may be bone chips causing this "impingement". That is just a 5 dollar word for "This hurts like hell". In that case--surgery to clean it up. I told the doc--that's really gonna eff up my softball season and he said "You ain't kidding".

I digress. I went 3 for 3 last night, had a fielding play at 2nd--got the out despite my shoulder pain and we won, 15-0. I hope that is a precurser to our season. Not the excrutiating shoulder pain--the win.

I took the max dose of advil and slept with my ice pack. I hope THAT isn't a precurser either.