I am not a wimp????

First of all, I would like to say that I've never considered myself a wimp. I've had 2 babies, one being 9 1/2 pounds to boot, and I've even taken a vacation with my mother-in-law. If you knew her, you would know that qualifies me for non-wimp status. But this week has left me with the terrible feeling that maybe I was wrong.

Last week I had a rather unfortunate accident here at the house, which caused my pinky finger on my left hand to be broken. That's right, b-r-o-k-e-n. Not being a wimp (see above) I tried to tough it out, telling myself that it was just bruised and all fingers, when they're bruised, are supposed to be twice the size of normal fingers.

Anyway, the next day I wake up to a brand-new day. I go to wash my hands, and silly me, bend my finger. After nearly passing out from the pain (no joke) Scott convinces me that there could be something a little more serious going on with the old digit.

So after having x-rays and all that stuff I found out it is indeed broken. No heavy typing, keep the splint on for 4-5 weeks, and you'll be as good as new.

Okay, fast forward to this week. I have now done something to my lower back. I get up like an old woman, walk like a duck, and feel like a fool. I don't even know what I did to my back, so when people ask what's wrong with my back, I don't have an answer.

People say that when you hit 40 things start going downhill. I'm not 40 yet - I've got a few years to go - but I've got a birthday this week and I feel like this is God's way of telling me things are about as good as they're going to get.

As I said earlier, I'm not a wimp. I am, apparently, a whiner.

I'm scared of American Idol

I mean, like, really scared. I'd like to try to be on there (but for the fact I'm just unbelievably over the age limit and I hate lines at DisneyWorld of 12 people, more or less a meeting of 10,000 of my favorite friends in a crappy run down football stadium).

Except, I wonder, do I really have a decent voice at all? I mean, I think I do and other people have told me it isn't wretch-worthy, so it can't be too bad, right?

Well, yeah, that's what I thought. Until I see some of these lummoxes who appear on the show and are completely unable to warble through two lines of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" without sounding like an EBS warning signal - and I'm talking about the new staticy-ones, not the old beep tones they used to have.

What the crap are these people thinking? Are their friends just undeniably mean when they tell them they should go on the show, or when they hear the potential contestant ask for their opinion, is it the same as being asked, "Do I look fat in this?"

Then again, Richard Hung got a record deal out of imploding on national television. I know I'm not great, but I'm not that bad either...

Yes, there you have it. Yet again, the middle class gets screwed. - sc

Oscar perspective

I saw where Meryl (whose parents must've really hated her) Streep won a Best Actress Oscar nomination for her work in The Devil Wears Prada.

Just to put this into perspective, this is only one more nomination than my dead Grandmother received, and she wasn't in any movies last year.

I've been waiting weeks to use that line. Thank you for coming to tonight's show; I'll be here all week. God bless! - sc

Things you never hear in an exercise video

Just listening to the audio of this absolute nazi of a woman in one of Tammy's exercise videos as I sit here at the computer made me think of several things you never hear in an exercise video.

1. "Pick it up, gumbo."

2. "You look like a goober."

3. "I'm not getting paid enough to put up with your backtalk."

4. "Time for a snack break."

5. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em."

6. "Good night, did you hear that pop?"

7. "Last week a woman died on the set."

8. "My inspiration is Rosie O'Donnell."

9. "I have absolutely no training for this."

10. "That will never fit."

After much soul-searching...

I wanted to take this opportunity today, after considering and talking over the decision with my family, friends, supporters, and most of all, deeply in prayer, to officially announce I will not be a candidate for President of the United States in 2008.

I realize this comes as a blow to many who had urged me on in recent months. I know our country stands at a crossroads, and we have many decisions to make and many opportunities in which to share. However, while I believe I may have been able to successfully lead our country into the future, I have chosen to step aside at this time.

Between our children's baseball, soccer and swimming practices, and my desire to go to the bathroom in my own home versus the side of the road just outside of Butte, Montana, I wanted to announce my intentions today to successfully clear the field and allow my throngs of supporters to flock to other candidates, as we are just 729 days from Inauguration Day 2009. I realize I'm cutting it close, but hopefully this late announcement will allow them enough time to get their organizations together and completely monopolize this non-election year with ads, flyers, news appearances, and other opportunities to completely repel what voters remain after the 2006 cycle.

God Bless You, and may God Bless the United States of America. - SC

Puffery

This morning, I was riding down the superhighway and stumbled upon this quote from George Lucas, regarding the next Indiana Jones movie they're going to start filming next year:

“'It’s going to be fantastic. It’s going to be the best one yet,' the 62-year-old filmmaker said during a break from preparing for his duties as grand marshal of Monday’s Rose Parade." (courtesy MSNBC)

Just one question...what strenuous "duties" must one have as Rose Parade grand marshal? Let me see...the qualifications for grand marshal - of any parade - are pretty much...

1) At least 3 people in the parade route know you,
2) Your hand works, and
3) You're breathing.

Oh, and your rear end has to be able to completely fit on the back seat of a convertible. THAT's the kicker. I hear that's why Rosie couldn't make it...

SICK

For the first time in several years, I was down virtually the entire last week with an absolutely horrible version of respiratory flu. Unbelievable. Horrible. And given to me by my children...

I did have enough common sense to keep a log of my activities. Hope you enjoy...

Tuesday - 8 AM: Take temperature, but it says 98.6 Sure. And the polls said we were up by 3-5 in the last week before the election, too...I'll believe it when I see it...

10 AM: Teaching final in class - nice, to think that I'm wrapping up my class by sharing my Christmas germs with everyone. Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! You won't wake up 'til then!

1 PM: Lone constituent meeting of the day, and we're driving in a car, no less. He's wearing a t-shirt and I am dressed like Nanook of the North. Think he notices? Feel fever climbing...what state are we in again?

3 PM: Finally make it home. I crawl into bed and turn on television and start flipping channels. Wow, those numbers going by on the bottom of CNBC really make your head hurt.

5 PM: Fever beginning to really escalate...feel like I may do some sudoku, but then I realize I don't remember the order of our numerical system anymore...

9 PM: Tammy wakes me up to feed me. Funny, I thought this wouldn't happen for another 40 years or so.

1 AM: Tammy finally goes to bed (on the couch...she's not stupid). Walgreens called to see if we can loan them some medicine.

9 AM: Tammy wakes me to see what my temperature is. It's 103.8. I wonder if digital thermometers have a joke chip that ever just spits out a sideways "8" to people to see what they'd do...

11:30 AM: I awake to see David's feeling better. He went to the doc yesterday (as did Jonathan), and even with a 100+ degree fever, he was yammering away. Freak of nature. David informs me he's feeling better in his normal, calm and subdued manner. "DADDY? DADDY? Hey Daddy - I don't feel as bad (cough, cough, sneeze, sniffle)." I actually catch a glance of the television, and I see Joel Osteen's on. Wow. One needs only to be delusional and filled with infection for him to make sense...yeah, Joel, positive thoughts ward off the "evil one." Right. What's the number for that book?

2 PM: Fever begins to break, because Lake Callicott's forming on the bed. Personal endorsement for Right Guard - it lasts even through the unholiest of sweathogs.

2:05PM: Dallas is on television again. Ah, the classics.

4PM: I'm on every medication right now except for Viagra, and I'll be honest, I wouldn't care right now if I was.

6 PM: Tammy leaves for Awana and our children's well-being is in my hands. Hope they don't weigh much, b/c I can't carry much right now. Too busy shivering.

8:30 PM: Tammy returns with a burger and soda from McDonalds' for me. I devour it, though I don't taste it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Let's hope Secretariat here helps me out.

1 AM: Tammy goes to sleep and asks if I'm going to work the next day. I mutter something in Armenian. I beg Jesus to take me home.

4:30 AM: I awake to my fever being...gone! GONE! I take my temperature, and the first time, it reads 106.5. While I know that's not true, for a moment, I wonder out loud, "Am I dead?" I take it again. 98.9! I figure even if I have to average the two, it's an improvement! I get out of bed, look at the sweat chalk outline of me in the bed, and really contemplate going to work NOW. Then I reconsider, put on a fresh set of skin & clothes, and retire for another hour.

7:30 AM: Should've gone to work 3 hours ago. It's not ugly again, but it ain't pretty. I've done something in my life to warrant this, I'm sure, though I don't remember a murder...

Thursday was, well, ok. Friday was a little better, Saturday was a stutter step, and finally Sunday - oh, blessed Sunday - no fever, no sore throat, no nothing. I'm reminded of the little illness we had a few years ago - the Norwalk virus (the stuff you get from cruise ships which we picked up in St. Louis one little weekend) - the doctor said, "You won't die, but you'll want to." Just unreal.

Back to normal?

Now that the elections are over, things are starting to get back to normal around here - that is if you call the following normal:

Our oldest son loves super heroes. Loves to talk about them, pretend like he is one, dress like them; you get the idea.

I was visiting with a friend this morning and out comes Jonathan wearing a cape and his clothes. Sounds okay, right? He had also decided to wear a pair of underwear on the outside of his clothes so he can fully grasp that super hero look.

Picture this in your mind: 7-year-old wearing a normal shirt, pants, a red Superman cape, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle underoos on top of his jeans.

Thankfully he took them off almost immediately. They got in the way of fighting bad guys.

I get it

First of all, I want you all to know that I understand the lengths people go to in order to get a person elected. I have made phone calls, organized fundraisers, walked door-to-door, and put my fair share of yard signs out there. We've worked on both the legislative side and the political side during the election season.

When we first started down this road, I couldn't believe I was going to be one of "those people". You know the kind, they know who is running for an office - on both sides - and they have a pretty good grasp of what issues are relevant to winning a campaign. They enjoy watching poll numbers come in and become gleeful on election night when the returns come in.

I know that we're sick and tired of getting the phone calls and the mail and just basically hearing about candidates so many times that we feel we know them personally.

But there are many out there who have no idea what Amendment 2 is all about in the state of Missouri. They don't know that there are some people running for office that actually think gay marriage is a-okay. And, even more scary, they aren't going to inform themselves about these issues and make the biggest difference.

That's right, they aren't going to vote.

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if we all stayed home and the entire election process could be decided by one or two people? What if those people didn't look at the world the way you look at the world? What if those people thought abortion was a right?

As someone who has had some doors politely slammed in her face and more than one person yell over the phone that they don't want anymore calls, I want you to know that I'm tired of it too. I'm tired because we have to go through such hoops to make sure people are as educated as possible when they go to polls.

It's so much more than voting for a particular party anymore. It's voting your values.

So please, the next time someone comes to your door or calls to take a poll remember they're doing this because they believe in the process. They want everyone to go the polls as informed as possible. They really believe they can make a difference - and usually they do.

GO CRAZY, FOLKS, GO CRAZY!!!

One of my favorite tv shows is 24. I have a huge man crush on Jack Bauer.

Twenty-four years ago, my Cardinals...yes, my Cardinals...won their last World Championship. Kids I teach in my classes weren't even alive the last time they won. They look at me, tilting their heads sideways, when I talk about the last World Series championship, hearing Jack Buck excitedly announce the words "World Series Winner" and watching as Bruce Sutter and Darrell Porter hugged each other on the mound, celebrating 15 years of pent up St. Louis baseball frustration from 1967 to '82.

Now, flash forward nearly a quarter of a century. Three World Series disappointments later ('85, '87, and '04), we all sat downstairs together, watching Adam Wainwright pop that fastball into Yadi's glove, and we WON!!! WE WON!!! I'm sure they heard me scream "STRIKE THREE!" all the way to the Arch from here in Hannibal.

Man, was this a great night, a great week, and a great month!

Yet another Fall Classic

I've never played professional baseball in my life, and yet I sat Thursday night "reliving" some old feelings as I watched my Cardinals - yes, MY Cardinals - squeak out a win over the Mets to get to their 17th World Series.

I'm spoiled. In the 80s, I thought we had it good when we went to the playoffs (and the World Series) 3 times in the decade. Now, we've been to the playoffs (counting this year) six out of the last seven years, and to the World Series two out of the last three. Unbelievable.

As usual, I am wearing my bright red Jack Buck vintage sportscoat wherever I go these days. It got me to thinking about days ago and when I was first introduced to Cardinal Nation. It wasn't through a family member or friend; it wasn't by being taken to a game. The first time was through the description and from the eyes of John Francis Buck. I remember listening to Jack through my summers, listening to he & Mike describe the games through the static off of the powerhouse "Voice of St. Louis" KMOX. During west coast swings, my small radio was pressed up against my ear while I had my head under the sheets of my bed. I still remember some of the calls like they were yesterday...in 1987 versus LA in a mid-summer game...

"A 1 and 1 count as (Jack) Clark stands in against (Bob) Welch here in the 9th. The pitch...swing and a long one! Would you believe it? Would you believe it? Another home run by Clark against the Dodgers. And the Cardinals LEAD in the 9th against the Dodgers, 3-1. That's his 29th of the year; 91 runs batted in. He did it again!"

His vintage home run call in a tied World Series game 6 between the Twins & the Braves in 1991...

"Puckett swings and hits it deep into left field...and we will see you...tomorrow night..."

The Cards' first World Championship in 15 years (and their last, to date) on a cold October night in St. Louis in 1982...

"Sutter comes set, and the pitch to Gorman Thomas...swing and a miss! And that's a winner! That's a winner! A World Series winner for the Cardinals!"

Jack loved his team, loved his family, and loved life. His son, Joe, spoke so eloquently at his funeral back in 2002, remembering some phrases from Jack's life he passed along to his eight children.

"Worry? I'll tell you when to worry."
"Don't holler til you're hurt."
"Things turn out best for those who make the best of the way things turn out."

His son, Joe, is such a reminder to Cardinal fans - and to all those who considered Jack the voice of their childhood summers - of days gone by and a quick glance over our shoulders to the way things used to be; a less complicated time when all that mattered was what's for supper and what am I doing this weekend.

As I sat there Thursday - in the midst of running the most important state campaign in Missouri according to many - I was able to take just a few moments, shut out the world, sit with breathless anticipation, and relive the summers of my childhood. As the final curve pressed into the back of Yadier Molina's mitt, 20 years were shaved off of my life, if but only for a moment. I was a kid again, and I couldn't have been happier.

7

Today is our oldest son's 7th birthday. I can't believe it. It seems like yesterday we were praying fervently that a child would bless our home and now we're celebrating his 7th birthday! Hard to believe.

Some of you may be wondering what a 7-year-old boy does when he's celebrating. Well, his teacher and principal got together and decided to cancel school today (a plus to homeschooling) and we went out with his classmate (his brother) for a nice breakfast.

He is now playing video games. That will pretty much be his day.

Sometimes I find myself wondering what happened to those days when I could just SIT DOWN and not worry about laundry, dishes, cleaning, cooking - just put it all aside and say forget it; I'm going to play a mindless game and not worry about all the other stuff.

Maybe it's because I'm not 7.

Welcome!

It's our first blog post. We're so excited. We don't get out much...