Random column :)

Years ago, my mom told a stranger at a dinner party that her daughter lived in a condom.
She meant to say "condo," but she didn't, nor did she correct herself. This must have given the party guest a few giggles later on.
Even better, it's given our family yet another wacky memory to cherish. We're big on laughing at ourselves, which makes me think we were just born with that particular gene. (Well, the women were, at least; I can't think of a time my brothers or dad has ever walked into a room and said, "You will not believe what I just did.")
I'm not saying that I never get humiliated by my own actions, but that usually happens when the foible is minor. Those, I keep to myself. But the spectacular mistakes – the kind that I first hope nobody finds out about – those I can see the humor in. As they say, go big or go home.
One morning when we were kids, my mom took us to school in a truck that had a camper on the back. Driving toward the school's entrance, she failed to grasp that the camper was too tall to fit under the awning. Plop! The whole thing fell off the back.
My mom – who was wearing her pajamas – drove away in embarrassment, leaving the camper where she dropped it. And where it blocked all other cars from the driveway.
A few hours later, she got a call from her friend, whose daughter went to the same school.
"You won't believe what some STUPID PERSON did," she said.
My mom, in classic Lucy fashion, let out a wail and said, "It was me!"
Of course, she probably didn't immediately see the humor in this story; it probably had to gel for a day or two. Other times, it's instant. Several years ago, my mom and sister came out to visit me in Seattle. Finding ourselves in a posh neighborhood with an open house, we decided to go check it out.
At the door was a basket full of elastic booties. The realtor had put a sign up, asking everyone to please use them when they toured the home.
"I can't believe we have to wear these," said my mom as she began to put the bootie on her head.
It took everything I had not to pee in my pants. Imagine the look on the realtor's face if she'd come around the corner to see us in hairnets.
Of course, I've come to realize that the Lucy apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Last month, I went to a bridal shower at a friend's house in Austin. As I stood around chatting with a few people I barely know, one of them looked at the homeowner, Tom, and said, "So, I hear you're now commuting."
Me (thinking he said, "So, I hear you're now a comedian"): "Wow! That's so interesting!!!"
(Puzzled glances from the other partygoers)
Tom: "Yeah, so far it's going fine. I've been flying out to California twice a month." (Or something like that -- I was too caught up in the excitement of his comedy career to pay attention.)
Me: "That is so cool!"
Tom: "Uh, yeah. Last week I took a drive down the Pacific Coast Highway, which was really nice."
Me: "Tell us some jokes!!!"
Tom (looking at me with fear in his eyes): "Well, the cost of living out there is incredible. We wouldn't be able to afford a shack in that area." (Again, I was barely listening. Too busy waiting for the punch line.)
Me (finally realizing that perhaps he's not on the standup circuit): "Did you say you're a comedian?"
Other guest: "No, I asked if he was COMMUTING!"
We all laughed, but I detected an expression of pity from a couple of the partygoers. Not that this bothered me; I come from a long line of crazy women who can easily tolerate such looks.
On the way home from the shower, I picked up the phone, called my mom and said, "You're not going to believe what I just did." Because sharing my silliness with her is always the best part.

My new hobby

What you see here is my first attempt at scrapbooking. Looking at it now, I realize it needs lots and lots and lots of work. Frankly, it's terrible. But that doesn't quell my enthusiasm for this sport! Or cult, whatever you want to call it!
My sister-in-law Margaret got me into it; she and her friends are expert scrappers and are teaching me the ropes. But there's so much to learn! (They have their own lingo, even. For example, did you know that the practice of stealing ideas for pages from other people is called "scraplifting"?) :)
Anyway, I'm greatly enjoying my Wednesday-morning scrapping sessions, mainly because we get to sit around and talk and laugh. And yes, occasionally get a page done.
I honestly feel like a whole new world has been opened up to me. And yes, I realize that sounds like the words of a cult member. :)

The new lingo

Last Saturday, I picked up Jake after he'd been at his friend Dylan's birthday party.
"Did he like the presents we got him?" I asked.
"Treppelduuun," Jake replied. Or at least that's what it sounded like to me.
"Um, what?" I asked.
""Treppelduuun."
"Jake, what are you saying?!"
"Triple Duh!" he exclaimed.
I'd never heard of this phrase before. Sure, "duh" has been around since the ancient '80s, but "tripple duh"? That's so hip and new!
Another new one (or at least new to me): Do you know the correct term for ringing someone's doorbell and running away? Ding dong dash. Very clever.
And finally, if you're ever in the presence of a first-grader and she or he says, "Lemonade, crunchy ice," be warned. It's a competition.
Emily taught it to me the other day. The rhyme contains hand movements and goes like this: "Lemonade (clap clap clap), crunchy ice (clap clap clap). Sip it once (clap clap clap), sip it twice (clap clap clap). Turn around (clap clap clap), touch the ground (clap clap clap). FREEZE."
I was thrown by the "freeze" until she whispered, "staring competition" and gazed at me with fierce intent.
I laughed and blinked, so I lost. But will I be more prepared next time? Triple duh.

Reasons I haven't blogged in ages

I've been writing my fingers to the bone! Below are links to stories from The Dallas Morning News that ran in the past week. Please click on any and all that interest you. :)

A breakdown of this season's Dancing With the Stars:
http://www.guidelive.com/sharedcontent/dws/ent/stories/DN-dancing_0319glGLWKND.2ca738c.html

A story about Taylor Hicks that previewed his concert, followed by a review of said concert:
http://www.guidelive.com/sharedcontent/dws/ent/music/stories/DN-hicks_0316gl.ART.State.Edition1.4469ee3.html

http://www.guidelive.com/sharedcontent/dws/ent/overnight/stories/DN-hicks_0319gl.State.Edition1.40d77e5.html

A profile of the extras on the show Friday Night Lights (if you've never seen the show, you're missing out on greatness!!!), which filmed its finale in Dallas:
http://www.guidelive.com/sharedcontent/dws/ent/television/stories/DN-fridaynight_0313gl.State.Edition1.28a3107.html

Quick recaps of last week's American Idol:
http://www.guidelive.com/sharedcontent/dws/ent/television/stories/DN-idol_0315gl.ART.State.Edition1.445b5b0.html

And for something completely different, a story about the devastation of anorexia, as shown in a traveling exhibit that is now in Dallas:
http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/fea/healthyliving2/stories/DN-nh_thin_0313liv.ART.State.Edition1.22dbba9.html

I promise to blog again soon! I have two funny stories I've been wanting to share with you guys. :)
Happy Monday!
Darla

Yep, that's Bill Gates

I just found this photo, which was taken in the '90s, while gathering stuff for my new hobby of scrapbooking. When this was taken, I was a reporter for a weekly newspaper (The Enterprise, in Snohomish County) and was given the most-excellent assignment of covering the star-studded opening of Planet Hollywood in Seattle.

Yes, star-studded -- for the opening of a chain restaurant!! They even had a parade! This makes me laugh with glee. How silly we were back in the '90s.

Anyway, the stars in attendance included Billy Baldwin, some Sonics players, Josie Bissett of Melrose Place fame, Brooke Shields -- and BILL GATES.

BILL GATES DROPPED EVERYTHING TO ATTEND THE OPENING OF A PLANET HOLLYWOOD. Cracks me up.

So let's hear it for Bill Gates 2.0, who's more concerned with improving our technological lives and curing the world of poverty. But I sort of like the old version, too. Look how excited he is to be there!

My little trip to the ER

I have much more to say on this topic later, but just wanted to pass along the basics: Last Friday afternoon, I ended up in the hospital after I felt like I was going to pass out, my heart started beating out of my chest, and my hands and tongue went numb. They ran many tests, but the doc came up with nothing conclusive. My heart looked good, they said.
So I came to my own conclusion (after "tests" of my own on Google): I had a panic attack. Otherwise known as an anxiety attack.
I'd never had one before, and I hope and pray I don't have one again. They're truly no fun. Anyone who has ever had one will say the same thing: You feel like you're not long for this earth.
But since that scary experience, I've felt a lot better -- in part, I think, to not dwelling on it. Panic attacks are a product of stress, so my course of action against another one is to not become as stressed out. (Easier said than done, I know!)
I'm going in for a follow-up test with a cardiologist tomorrow, but I'm confident that my diagnosis is correct. Anxiety -- which had built up slowly over time, aided by such life changes as the end of the weekly column that I loved -- eventually attacked me.

It's an epidemic

Do they just not make kids' jeans like they used to, or are my offspring just especially adept at destroying them?

Pictured are several pairs of new pants. By "new," I mean they were worn approximately five times. The hole process always starts with a small rip, which, by the very next wearing, turns into the gaping mess of fabric you see here.

I'm officially having trouble keeping up with the ripping schedule my kids are on. They're ruining them faster than I can buy replacements.

We've tried patches, but I don't care for the Lil' Abner look myself. I've also tried scolding, yelling and pleading for the kids to keep their knees away from concrete or hard ground. As a last resort, I've even sent them to school in these pants.

Hey, their teachers are also moms; I'm sure they can sympathize.

"Look like you've just stepped out of the salon."

People always say that like it's a good thing.

For me, it is not. In fact, my "just stepped out of the salon" look is about the worst look I have in my roster. With a few exceptions, I've never been able to show my face in public immediately after getting a haircut. It's frizzy, the bangs are dorky, the curls are all dry-looking -- you get the point. Not cute.

This morning, I went back to the stylist who cut my hair once before. I like the actual haircut; it's just that she doesn't quite know what to do with curly, thick hair as it dries. She -- and many others of her ilk -- tend to squeeze out a miniscule drop of gel into their palms and work it into my hair. I'm always amazed as I watch them do that. It's like trying to tame King Kong with a BB gun. Not even a fair fight.

So once again, I left a salon looking 20 times worse than I did when I walked in. I know people don't believe me; you all think I'm exaggerating the badness. So the next time I make a hair appointment -- approximately six to eight weeks from now -- I promise to take before-and-after shots as proof.

Prepare to be shocked.

Quote of the Day

Last night, Jake decided to read Huckleberry Finn as part of his 20-minutes-a-night homework requirement. He normally enjoys such tomes as Captain Underpants and the Attack of the Talking Toilets, so Huck Finn was quite a departure.

I tried to talk up the book, describing in detail how Huck was sort of a bad boy. Jake was intrigued and asked many questions.

But the quote of the day came from Emily.

"Mark Twain," she said. "Is he married to Shania Twain?"

Ah, kids. They make life worth living. :)