It is after 9 p.m. and I am sitting here writing something that I never thought I would write about.

Yesterday, I had a big cookout at my house...mostly the daddy's family, a few of my kids' friends. I had worked long and hard the day before shopping and cooking and cleaning. I THOT I would have plenty of time Saturday morning to slowly set up and finish a few little things. But they showed up 3 hours early. They stayed ALL day...which made the daddy happy and it wasn't entirely suckie. When they left and I finished cleaning up, I was drained out...but too keyed up to sleep. So, later last night I finally took one of those P.M. pain relievers to help me settle so I could sleep. The kids were still up and TJ was watching some wrestling thing with his dad. I tried to get comfortable but still couldn't sleep. After a few hours I gave up. I heard a commotion and Troy(the daddy) yelling and I thought, "NOW what?" I stepped out into the hallway and saw Troy putting ice on TJ's neck...he was sitting in the chair.

TJ had gone down to bed and Troy said there was a big boom. He ran down to see what it was and he said he found TJ collapsed on the floor leaning up against the bathroom wall. His eyes were open and glazed and Troy said he shook him and slapped his face and there was no response. He said TJ was very hot. Finally TJ started to come to and Troy helped him up and into the recliner chair. He didn't know what happened.

I knew...I knew...it was my fault...my fault. I took Troy aside and asked him if he knew where the Blow Out was (can of compressed air that is used to clean electronics). I told him that TJ had asked for it earlier in the day when the Playstation froze. Troy ran downstairs and brought it back up. He told me it was ice cold and sitting on the stand by the one chair in the family room.

TJ still swears up one side and down the other that he had been using it to clean his stereo and just smelled it cuz he liked the smell. What else is he going to tell me, "yes, Mom and Dad...I was huffing?"

It took us quite a few hours to get him cooled down and walking outside breathing in lungs full of fresh air. Thank God he was okay. By the time he went to bed he could speak clearly again and his reflexes were back to normal. I have read too many horror stories of kids inhaling that stuff and causing immediate and permanent brain damage...or death. He said, "I didn't think anything would really happen."

Needless to say...it was still quite a few hours later, and a sleeping pill, before I would go to bed and get some sleep. I just cried and shook most of the night. What causes kids to do that? I will never understand. I could have lost my son.

And why do I see it as MY fault? Becuz...when he asked to borrow the can, and I gave it to him...that little voice in my head that gives me warnings told me to make sure that I got the can back before he went to bed. And I didn't. I heard it, I ignored it...and when I ignore that little voice, it is never good. I thank God that it wasn't a fatel mistake.

He asked his dad to go with him to B-dubs tonite to watch a PPV wrestling event with him and his friends. The daddy went. The whole thing shook the daddy to his core also. It still makes me want to cry thinking of it. It was such a shocking thing to go through. At least my son is still here. I hope it shook him up as well.

The daddy has been home for almost 3 weeks now. For those that don't know...he strained his back about 4 weeks ago playing golf...pinched a nerve. But he had to go to California for a week for classes and training. While there, he was wearing flip flops (which he hasn't worn in many years but suddenly decided that he was going to try wearing them to get some sun on his feet and get rid of his golfer tan...cuz I laffed about his white feet ), he tripped on some stairs at the beach and fell on his side, cracking a rib. He ended up doing okay once he got home with some chiropractic treatment and a rib belt (and ice) except that he has this terrible smokers cough (OUCH) and one night he decided to try and sleep in bed (he WAS sleeping in a recliner). He rolled over on his side and even I heard the SNAP.

He actually broke his rib in two places but he has gotten a lot better. He was scheduled for a week's vacation...I talked him into taking another (altho, it didn't take too much talking on my part) and this week he is working but he is working in his office downstairs. He is really upset that he is missing the church guys' golf outing this weekend. There will be more.

ANYWAY, he was watching lots of TV. But how much can one really watch of ESPN? Or even 'The Deadliest Catch'? So...he discovered cooking shows. Yep...that's right...cooking shows. He even got me to watch a few and I learned the correct way to deep fry (I am not a fan of fried foods...I get really sick when I eat it) AND I learned why my homemade Alfredo Sauce wasn't working.

The best ones that we found to watch was Alton Brown (altho a little weird) and Tyler Florence. Tonight he Tivo'd one for me on making cheesecake. It is something I love to make and have worked on tweaking the recipe every once in a while.

I collect cookbooks myself. Some are the fancy thick hardcover ones that cost a lot. BUT, my favorite ones to buy have been the ones that PTAs and Church groups assemble themselves and sell as fund raisers. These are recipes that everyday housewives AND husbands have used and cooked...nothing that an ordinary person couldn't cook/bake.

However, if anyone has a good recipe for clam sauce OR ratatouille...please share?

Drafting Guys Over 60
  Im over 60 and the Armed Forces say I'm too old    to track down terrorists. (You can't be older than 42 to join the military.) 

They've got the whole thing backwards. Instead of sending 18-year-olds off to fight, they ought to take us old guys. You shouldn't be able to join a military unit until you're at least 35. 

For starters: 

Researchers say 18-year-olds think about sex every 10 seconds.
Old guys only think about sex a couple of times a day, leaving us more than 28,000 additional seconds per day to concentrate on the enemy. 

Young guys haven't lived long enough to be cranky, and a cranky soldier is a dangerous soldier. If we can't kill the enemy we'll complain them into submission. "My back hurts! I'm hungry! Where's the remote?" 

An 18-year-old hasn't had a legal beer yet and you shouldn't go to war until you're at least old enough to drink. The average old guy, on the other hand, has consumed 126,000 gallons of beer, and a jaunt through the desert heat with a beer and an M-60 would do wonders for the old beer belly. (Note there are 24 hours in a day and 24 bottles in a case...another convenient way to measure time!) 

An 18-year-old doesn't like to get up before 10 a.m. 

Old guys always get up early to pee. 

If captured we couldn't spill the beans because we'd forget where we put them. In fact, name, rank, and serial number would be a real brainteaser. 

Boot camp would be easier for old guys. We're used to getting screamed and yelled at and we like soft food. We've also developed an appreciation for guns. 

We like them almost better than naps. 

They could lighten up on the obstacle course however. I've been in combat and didn't see a single 20-foot wall with rope hanging over the side, nor did I ever do any pushups after completing basic training. I can hear the Drill Sgt now, "Get down and give me ... er ... one."
Actually, the running part is kind of a waste of energy. I've never seen anyone outrun a bullet. 

An 18-year-old has the whole world ahead of him. He's still learning to shave, to carry on a conversation, and to wear pants without the top of his butt crack showing and his shorts sticking out. He's hasn't figured out that a pierced tongue catches food particles, and that a 400-watt speaker in the back seat of a Honda can rupture an eardrum, and that a baseball cap has a brim to shade eyes, not the back of his head.
These are all great reasons to keep our kids at home to learn a little more about life before sending them off into harm's way. 

Let us old guys track down those dirty rotten cowards who attacked us on September 11. The last thing an enemy would want to see right now is a couple of million old farts with attitudes. 

Share this with your senior friends.  It's purposely in big type so you can read it. 
  
  
 

Okay...I am going to attempt to go out into the world...drive, move around, and hope that the spins don't go out of control. That would really suck, now wouldn't it? "Well, you see officer, I was attempting to make a right turn on red, I didn't MEAN to go straight through a red light! My head started spinning and faked me into THINKING I was turning!"

I saw something on the news this morning that really toasted my english muffin (never mind Bryan, Randy, Cuddle, etc. )...some freakin' defense attorney is getting that freak that kidnapped and killed Jessica Lumsford tested for mental retardation in order to save 'it' from the death penalty. Mental retardation has NOTHING to do with what that monster did!