A group of women were chatting about a guy we all know. He seemed like the perfect man, by his own accounts. He claims to cook gourmet meals, has mastered housework and child care as a single parent with shared custody, has a ton of money from extensive education and a prosperous career, respects women. What more could we ask?
Well, I asked if he can dance and he reluctantly admitted that, no, he has never bothered to learn to dance.
Everyone left the discussion, bitterly disappointed. The search continues.
There is almost nothing better in this world than home made bread baking in the oven. I like to buy the frozen bread dough loaves at the store, and when I have the time at home I pull them out and cook a couple of loaves.
Today is such a day. I have two loaves of bread rising in the oven, and I should have them ready to eat with supper. Home made bread makes a plain meal a lot more “comfort food”-ish. No one in my house complains about supper when there is a freshly baked loaf of home made bread on the table!
My first exposure to administering drugs into the body using an adhesive patch (rather than a pill or a shot) was back in the early 1990′s when my son was very sick. He needed help with pain killers and his body couldn’t tolerate any more more abuse of his digestive tract. So he was prescribed a state-of-the-art pain patch. It looked like a large square band aid that you peeled off a backing and stuck onto your arm or shoulder area. The medicine is absorbed through the skin instead of through the stomach.
Now they have patches for many different types of medicines and many types of conditions, from anti-smoking to birth control to motion sickness. This is one of the great but mostly unheralded advances of modern medicine. It made a tremendous difference in the care and quality of life of my son and I know it has helped millions since then.
The new Eagles album is out and the first cut to get airplay around here is the song, “Busy Being Fabulous.” I think it is a great slam on the celebrities and too powerful snobs like politicians, CEOs and bosses everywhere. With a very simple and constant refrain, “you were just too busy being fabulous to care about us.”
I wonder if anyone actually said those very words to one of them or if they were able to figure it out for themselves?
I know it sounds crazy, but my father was a rock musician when I was a kid. My sisters and I loved to go watch his band perform. He had a band with a lead guitarist, a drummer, a singer, and my father played the electric organ. That band never made “the big time” but they were a very popular band for private parties; they had “gigs” every single Friday and Saturday night, and an occasional “gig” on other special occasions too. Whenever a new pop song hit the charts, my father would run out and buy the record and bring it home and make my sisters and I listen to the song over and over and over again to write down the lyrics for him, while he would listen to the music and try to figure out how to play it. I cannot tell you how quickly we got sick of listening to “American Pie!”
