Need Some Ideas?

   I have plenty!  I won't guarantee that they are all great ideas, but I can certainly generate some.

   If I had the resources, I would have a workshop where I could try out my ideas and where I could share (and generate) ideas with others.  A hands-on think tank!  Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket so I could fund such a venture.

   It would be awesome to work with a bunch of would-be MacGyvers and create innovative solutions to common, and not-so-common problems that we face every day.  I would open up my workshop to people of all ages and abilities.
   I realize this is just a dream.  But sometimes dreams do come true.  In the meantime, if you need some ideas, just let me know.  I might be able to help. 

  

Do Me a Favor, Will You?

    I would like for you to do something simple for me.  For the next, let's say... 10 days, I want you to drink a glass of water first thing in the morning, when you get up.  And then, 10 days from now, tell me if you feel better, worse, or neither after you started doing this.

    Pretty simple request, huh?  You've probably heard that drinking more water is good for you, and I happen to agree with that.  But I'm curious if just having one glass of water the first thing in the morning, is enough to make a difference in how you feel.  I know what it has done for me, and I'll post my results in the future.

    One other thing, if water is too harsh, try adding some lemon juice to it.  You might be thinking, "Too harsh?!"  But plain water sometimes doesn't agree with people.  It's also kinda boring.  When I was a kid, my favorite aunt said that she drank lemon juice instead of coffee in the morning.  I thought she meant lemonade, but she said that she put lemon juice, and nothing else, in a glass of water first thing in the morning.  I thought that was crazy, but I tried it and guess what?  It's sour!!  Not only that, I think the shock to the system did seem to wake me up more than plain water.  And it worked a lot faster than waiting for the caffeine to kick in from a cup of coffee.

     But I digress.  My request is for you to drink a glass of water, at least 8 oz., when you first get up.  Lemon juice is optional, LOL.  And in a week or so, please let me know how it is, or isn't, helping you.  Message me on Facebook, or leave a comment on this blog (bookmark it so you'll remember), email me, or tell me in person if see me around town.
    Until next time, BE AWESOME!!!!

Baseball Boo Boo

   Every year around this time, I think about my little league days and how I missed out of playing every single baseball game when I was in the second grade.  It was early in the season, not even close to our first game, when we were still trying to figure out the rules.  T-ball hadn't been invented yet, so we started out with pitchers and catchers and lots of walks and strike outs.  I think the rule for us was 6 balls before a walk, and 4 strikes for a strike out.  Or something like that.

   Anyway, one day some of us got there early and, being back in the days when it was acceptable for 8-year-olds to hang out without adult supervision on a playground next to a busy street, we decided to do what little boys do.  Climb things.  At one end of the playground was a chain-link backstop that beckoned to be conquered, so we started to climb.

   We were about three-fourths of the way up, when our coach, Mike Nash's dad, was spotted pulling up at the diamond at the other end of the playground.

   "The coach is here!" we began shouting as we started back down the backstop.  I didn't want to be the last one down (I mean, who wants to be a rotten egg?), so I leaped backwards, depending on gravity to help me.

   Unfortunately, gravity was not too kind to me that day.  My heels hit sooner than expected and I fell backwards.  With lightning reflexes, I whipped my arms back to break my fall, and thus saving me from a sore tailbone.

   Crack!

   "This dirt is really hot today," I remember thinking, my wrists feeling like they were on fire.  I looked at my hands, which were having a hard time functioning normally.  Each time I tried to wiggle a finger, pain shot up my arm.

   I had no idea what was happening, and I thought that maybe I'd somehow landed on a swarm of bees.  So off I dashed toward the school building where I figured I'd use one of the outdoor water fountains to cool that burning sensation in both of my wrists.

   I'm not sure if it was Paul Shadid or Bobby Clark who was with me when I got to the faucets, but my arms were shrieking with pain as I tried to turn the knob.  Whoever it was managed to get the water going and we washed off the dirt and sweat and I was amazed at how big my wrists had grown.

   "We better tell Mr. Nash," my buddy said.

   "No!" I replied.  "We'll get in trouble for climbing on the backstop!"

   We went down to the field and it was clear that I couldn't get my glove on or hold a ball.

   I'm pretty sure it was either Mr. Nash or maybe Mr. Clark who took me home.  My mom kinda freaked a little, and got me into our car and drove me to the hospital.

   The hospital!  I really did NOT want to go to the hospital.  Every time I'd been to a hospital or a doctor's office I ended up getting a shot.  In the butt.  I hated getting shots!  (NOTE:  Shots aren't so bad now, considering the other pains I've endured in my less-than-graceful dance through life).

   I wanted an aspirin or something, I kept saying.  I didn't want a shot, or an operation, or a gas mask.  Just some aspirin, or something cold to pour over my wrists.  The nurses and orderlies were muttering something about broken bones.  And they'd look my way.

   "No!"  I yelled.  "I'm fine!"

   I was picturing them strapping me down to an operating table and having Dr. Frankenstein come in to do something to me.

   I flapped my arms up and down, trying to get my hands to work.  Boy, THAT was probably one of the dumbest things I'd done so far in my eight years on this planet.  The pain was white-hot and things got a little purplish-bluish-white for a second.

   A nurse turned as white as her uniform and nearly fainted, which I thought oddly funny.  She screamed, "Stop!"

   I stopped.  I just wanted the pain to stop.  I didn't really care if I got a shot at this point because nothing had ever hurt that bad before.

   I settled down after that, which seemed to have a calming effect on my mom and everybody at the hospital.

   I got X-rays.  That was pretty cool.  The room was dark and cool, and the surfaces I got to rest my arms on were cool, which also seemed to help.

   I got both arms in casts, from the bend in my elbows to my fingers.
   Green-stick fractures, they said.  

   I spent six weeks in those casts.  And I missed my first season playing baseball.

   But at least I didn't have to get a shot.  :)

A Sad Day

  Yesterday, Elisabeth Sladen died.  If you ever watched the Doctor Who series with Jon Pertwee or Tom Baker or David Tennant as the Doctor, you know who she is.  She played Sarah Jane Smith, one of the companions.

  When I was younger, I first saw Doctor Who on PBS (Channel 13 in Oklahoma City) on Saturday nights.  And the first episodes I saw starred Tom Baker as the Doctor and Elisabeth Sladen as Sarah Jane.  She was cute as a bug's ear, perky, feisty, funny, brave, and I quickly developed a crush on her - even finding reasons to not go out partying on Saturday nights.  She saved me a lot of beer money.

  In the last year or so, she appeared again on Doctor Who.  David Tennant was the Doctor and on one of his many trips to Earth, he managed to run into an older Sarah Jane.  She was still a cute as could be, and I found that my crush hadn't quite gone away.  When the Doctor left her, perhaps (and as turn out definitely) for the last time, he had fixed up K9, the little robot dog who had been along on many of the Sarah Jane and Doctor (Tom Baker) adventures, and left K9 with Sarah.

  My condolences go out to Lis's family.  

   

What's My Secret?

   Last night, after working as part of the event staff for a basketball game, a co-worker came up to me and said, "You gotta tell me your secret."
   "My secret?" I asked, a bit puzzled because I have so many (ha ha!).
   "Yes!" she exclaimed.  "How do you keep that upbeat attitude going all the time?  How come you don't get frustrated?"
   "Ahhh!  THAT secret," I replied with a grin.  "I figure that I might as well keep a positive attitude going because it makes life more fun.  Being grumpy doesn't make things better, and can actually be counter-productive."  


   Working at various events, I see all types of people, most of whom are fairly happy to be there.  However, there always seems to be a few who, due to varying degrees of their frustration levels, want to tee off on somebody - the somebody usually being an easily identified event staff person.  Maintaining a calm, pleasant attitude often does help calm the patron down somewhat - sometimes to the point where they realize they are speaking to another human being and not a cog in a machine.
   I let them know that I understand they are angry, frustrated, upset, etc., but that I cannot change policies or prices.  I suggest that they go enjoy the game and perhaps call the appropriate department or vendor during business hours the next day and voice their concerns then.  Usually, that's all it takes.  They still may be unhappy, but once they've calmed down a bit, they go on to have a better time.  More often than not, the next time I see them, they've joined the ranks of those who are happy to be there.  Heck, some of them will come over to me with a smile to chat about little things like the weather or how crazy the pre-game traffic was.
   Yep, my positive attitude secret does have some good things going for it.  And life certainly is more fun that way.



  

Dishwasher Down!

  I could have gotten upset over this, because it seems that washing the dishes is a never-ending task.  Right now, our dishwasher fills up with hot water and goes through the timed cycles, but what it fails to do is spray water to rinse off the dishes.  There is a click, like it's trying to do something, but like a car with a bad starter, it doesn't quite hit the point where it's actually starting.
  Instead of getting all upset, I decided to wash a few dishes by hand the other night as I was cooking supper.  I used the dishwasher's racks as drying racks and zoned out while washing and keeping an eye on the stove.  By the time the macaroni and cheese was done and mixed with the cooked broccoli, I had the dishwasher filled with clean, dry dishes.  Almost without thinking, I washed the stuff I used for cooking and put them in the counter dish drainer to dry.  
   The whole process took less time than the dishwasher would have, and I got more done.  Not only that (and don't tell anybody), but the act of washing the dishes in the warm, sudsy water had a pleasant calming effect.  Maybe that's why my mom seemed to not mind washing the dishes when I was a kid.
   I find it interesting that sometimes the "old school way" of doing things can be a pleasant and fulfilling experience.  How about you?

Whoops!

I've been so busy since the start of the year that I haven't had time to update this blog.  Over the next few posts, I'll probably be bouncing back and forth between what has happened and what is currently happening.  


Arrrggghh!!  My cat has apparently decided I am now the Alpha Cat, so I gotta give him some attention before I'm off to work at the OSU Baseball game today.  I hope I'll be back soon, LOL!