Recessed, Depressed, and/or Frozen???

America, Seriously ... Can I Ask You Something???

Are we in a recession, or not?

If we are, why did you spend $64.8 Million on Paul Blart, Mall Cop in just the last two weeks?
Not to mention handing over $120.2 Million to Madonna and $106.8 Million to Celine in the last year? Yes, you heard that correctly ... CELINE ... a hundred and six point eight million dollars!!!

Are we nearing a depression or not?

If we are, why is Tampa, Florida positive that you will drop $400+ Million to attend the SuperBowl this year? Not including travel (God only knows how much that might cost) or tickets (which are worth tens of millions). It's one weekend ... for one day ... one game ...

Is our credit frozen?

It probably is, because VISA is spending an average of $3 Million (of our frozen credit dollars) per thirty seconds of airtime for SuperBowl commercials.

Total SuperBowl advertisements will likely come in at over $250 Million. They better be damn funny ... super-freakin' funny!!!

Don't get me wrong ... I LOVE the SuperBowl ...

I could go on & on & on ... but what difference would it make ~ you get my point ... we are all spending like crazy ... dumping cash into the system ... Mall Cop ... really??? Dumping cash & all we hear is that things are getting worse. I just don't understand.

I have a few questions:

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Does anybody else see a disconnect?
Are there (actually) two Americas or three or four or twenty?
Are our realities so different that nothing, NOTHING makes sense anymore?
Does anyone know what these terms really mean? I looked 'em up ... they have real definitions.
Do they mean different things to different people? If so, isn't that a problem???
Does it matter what they REALLY mean or is everything relative at this point?
Is our impending or supposed depression supposed to be somehow less than, worse, or just different than the upheaval and hardship of the Great Depression?
Spending is good, right? 'Cause I'm good at that ...
Right now? Spend now ... I can do it ...
Spending will jumpstart the economy? Yes!!!
Seriously though, how much more can we spend?

Somebody??? Anybody???

R - E - S - P - E - C - T !!!

Seriously ... there's NOTHING I can add to that!!!

"When life kicks you, let it kick you forward." ~ Kay Yow

Kay Yow, a true Carolina treasure, dies at 66 after her fourth battle with breast cancer.

Kay Yow will always be one of the most admired and respected coaches on the national and international scenes. She was a leader, role model, mentor, coach, supporter, community friend and entrepreneur. As for women’s basketball history, Yow’s name will most certainly be delivered in the same breath as those words forever more. She was there for the implementation of Title IX and the first NCAA Tournament in 1982. Yow has never relented her pursuit to improve the sport of women’s basketball despite all of her achievements. The game has been good to her, but more importantly, Yow has been instrumental for the game.

Coach Yow was the first recipient of the Espy's "Jimmy V. Award for Perseverence". Her story (as played out in the video) is more than inspirational. Yow appears in this video with her wonderful friend and Tennessee coach, Pat Summit and Ashley Judd.



In her 37 years as a head coach at the college level, she has led her teams to a combined record of 729-337 and is one of only six Division I head women's basketball mentors to achieve 700 career victories. Yow has guided her squads to 20 of the 27 NCAA Tournaments, 11 trips to the Sweet 16, and a trip to the Elite Eight and Final Four in 1998. She has also collected five Atlantic Coast Conference regular season championships, four ACC Tournament titles, amassed 21, 20-win seasons and a staggering 29 winning seasons. Her career victory total is the fourth most among active coaches in NCAA Division I and in 2003-04, won her 650th game to become the first ACC women’s basketball coach to eclipse that special milestone. She also coached the US Women to a Gold Medal in 1988.

A few other statistics:

• Yow has averaged 20 wins a season during her 33 seasons at NC State.
• She has directed the Wolfpack to 19, top-three finishes in the final ACC standings.
• Her teams have been ranked in the top-25 poll a total of 326 weeks, the seventh most nationally and first in the ACC.
• She is one of only six coaches to have won 700 career games in Division I WBB history.
• She has the fourth most wins among active NCAA Division I coaches.
• She has coached more than 900 games at NC State, which is fifth in NCAA DI WBB history.
• She was the first ACC WBB coach to eclipse 600 wins at the same school and was the sixth among all-time NCAA DI coaches.
• Her teams have advanced to 20 of the 27 NCAA Tournaments, which is tied for the 10th most appearances.
• She was the first women's basketball coach in ACC history to reach 650 career wins.
• 1998 Final Four
• 21, 20-win seasons
• Sweet 16, 11 Times
• 1998 Elite Eight

• Five ACC Championships
• Four ACC Tournament Titles
• 21, Top-25 Finishes and seven Top-10 Finishes
• Four Kodak All-Americans, three AP All-Americans

• One of 30 teams with more than 650 wins in Division I
• 23rd all-time winningest team in NCAA history (Second highest in the ACC)
• 28th all-time winningest program by victories (Third highest in the ACC)
• 55 All-ACC honorees and 34 All-ACC Tournament players
• Two ACC Players of the Year
• Two ACC Rookies of the Year

• Four ACC Tournament MVP's
• 15 WNBA Players and Two Coaches
• Nine ACC 50th Anniversary players

• Three Golden Anniversary team members
•85 ACC Honor Roll members
• Second most victories in ACC history
• Second highest winning percentage in ACC history
• Six players rank in the ACC's top-25 all-time records for field goals made and field goal percentage
• Five players rank in the ACC's top-25 all-time records for points, rebounds and blocks
• Three players rank in the ACC's top 25 all-time record for assists and steals
• Jennifer Howard is the ACC's All-time leader in 3-Point Field Goal Percentage
• NC State ranks in the top-10 among programs sending players to the WNBA
• NC State and Coach Yow, in conjunction with the Jimmy V Foundation, started the Jimmy V Women's Classic, the first of its kind to donate money to cancer research in the game of women's basketball
• NC State and Coach Yow have started the "Hoops for Hope" game. A basketball game centered around hope. Hope for early detection, hope for increased survival, hope for a cure for Breast Cancer. The fourth annual game will take place during the 2008-09 season
• In December 2007, the Kay Yow/WBCA Cancer Fund in partnership with The V Foundation was established as a charitable organization committed to finding an answer in the fight against women’s cancers

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Kay Yow is a true role model, not only for women, but for humanity. She will be terribly missed by all.

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You can read tributes to Kay Yow here.

Visit the Kay Yow photo gallery here.

Bio information from the NC State.

CROSS COUNTRY ~ Cross It Off Your List

I love Alex Cross, the uber-detective in James Patterson’s novels. I have read nearly all of his books and am always anxious for new ones to come out. Cross Country, a pretty new release was no exception.

Here’s the blurb:
In over a decade of police work, it is the worst murder scene Alex Cross has ever seen. A family has been butchered in their home. And more killings follow. One after the other. Each more gruesome than the last. The only lead is an elusive trail left by a diabolical African warlord know only as The Tiger. It leads Alex Cross into the dark underbelly of Washington DC and beyond, into a true heart of darkness in Africa herself.

Doesn’t that sound awesome? Can you hear Morgan Freeman’s voice? Yhea, me too.

So, I (Rob) drop twenty bucks for the book … hardcover ~ to be donated to the library at a later date.

He goes out of town and I start to read. I read twenty, fifty, eighty, a hundred pages.

I feel like I’m reading news, not a novel. Don’t get me wrong, Cross’s trip to Africa describes horrific and tragic facts about Darfur, Sierra Leone, and Nigeria. The truth of the text is practically debilitating, the suffering and corruption are overwhelming. Patterson’s telling of the plight in these African countries is exemplary, but it’s not very novel-y. It’s not really fun at all … I was wondering if there was a quiz on the last page.

I even found myself disliking Cross throughout the novel because he was so imposing while trying to find his target in Africa. Don’t get me wrong, he gets his ass beat down more than once, but his moral superiority in countries where he was so obviously unwelcome, was a put off for me. The mere suggestion that he could “question” or “take someone in” just seemed rather ridiculous. Especially in light of the fact that he knew the specific government/police he would need help from were corrupt.

Finally, on page three-hundred-and-frickin’-eight, Cross’s family gets kidnapped. Finally. How crappy is that … I was glad that Cross’s mother and two young children were kidnapped by an African assassin and his corrupt CIA associates. The next seventy pages are terrific … old skool Patterson. And a happy ending to boot. Kids and mama safe, bad guys busted, killer - dead ... shot right in the damn eye!!!

I guess it has some redeeming qualities, but it is my least favorite … EVAH!

If you still insist on reading it, check it out for free at the library, or let me know … you can have my copy.

Tonight he brings home Janet Evanovich ~ Plum Spooky. I'll let you know!!!

NaNa!!!

Remember the scene in Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood when all the kids were sick, puking and pooping … and then Vivi went totally bat-shit and lost her mind, then ran flailing from the house and got locked in the loony-bin for something like six months??? Yhea, I remember that … I remember that because it’s happening here right now. Well, not the beatings or the institutionalization (yet), but the puking and pooping.

So far, three out of the five are sick. Terrific. ((update ~ make that five out of five))

Where’s the damn Lysol???

Seriously ... Don't Call Me Again!!!

Me: “Hello.”

Him: “What’s wrong? You sound kind of crazy.

Me: (In my head) Hell yhea, I ‘m kind of crazy … because you’re sacked out at the f’ing Ritz Carlton after a fancy-schmancy dinner and the first of many days of golf and I’m stuck here with the kids eating quickie-mart pizza and watching Smokey and The Bandit. It’s been two, long, single-mother, no-school days, not to mention that they are out of school AGAIN tomorrow for “King Arthur Day” (this particular King Arthur may be more well known to you as Dr. MLK, Jr.).

Me: “Oh no, not crazy, just busy cleaning up.”

Me: (In my head) Nohhhhttttttttttttttt!!! You know that I loaaaathe you, right???

Him: “Been a good day?”

Me: “Yhea, pretty good. I’m tired.”

Me: (In my head) F. No … it hasn’t been a good day. How many damn times can you possibly ask me that…today??? Jesus H. Christ … please don’t call me again today, or I swear to God, I am going to kill you. And I really will kill you. I'm not EVEN joking. Kill you. Dead.

Me: “You have a good day?”

Him: “Yhea.”

(((Enter very noisy, fighting children)))

Me: “Hey, gotta go. I’ll call you later.”

Me: (In my head) I’ll call you later… my big, fat ass I will … I’m not calling you later. Hell will freeze over, before I call you back. Have fun, jackass. I’ll be here raising your children and cleaning your house while you live it up with your corporate pals. L.A.T.E.R!!!

Click.

Me: (In my head) I hope nothing happens to him out there ... I bet this is being recorded by the Feds. What the hell ... prison would be like vacation compared to this!!!

OK ~ this is slightly exaggerated. Clearly I don't have nearly enough time
to do all that thinking and even if I did, it probably wouldn't be THAT bad ...
maybe. But, really, who among us (with kids) hasn't ever felt like that???

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When my husband is out of town, our phone conversations are much like this old email forward:
What Women Say and What they Mean

Yes (No)

No (No)

Maybe (N0)

It's your decision. (The correct decision should be obvious by now.)

Do what you want. (You'll pay for this later.)

I'm sorry. (You'll be sorry.)

Sure . . . go ahead. (I don't want you to.)

I'm not upset. (Of course I'm upset, you moron.)

This kitchen is so inconvenient. (I want a new house)

I want new curtains. (and carpeting, furniture, wallpaper . . .)

I heard a noise. (I figured you were almost asleep.)

Do you love me? (I'm going to ask for something expensive.)

I don't want to talk about it. (Go away, I'm still building up evidence against you.)

I need time to think things over. (I don't want to be around when you realize I'm leaving you.)

I'm the one who's to blame. (I should never have got involved with you in the first place.)

I miss you. (I haven't found anyone else yet.)

I'm fine . . . really. (If I die, it'll be your fault.)

There'll never be anyone else like you. (I will never make the same horrific mistake again.)

****************************************************

God knows I really do love that boy, but now, in one of many acts of passive aggressive treachery to be committed in the next forty-eight hours, I must go and mismatch all of his socks.

Whoever said that "absence makes the heart grow fonder" probably lived with me in another life. ;)

PBS ... I Love You

I grew up watching Sesame Street & The Electric Company. I remember Bob Ross painting “happy little trees” and seeing Jerry Jeff Walker on Austin City Limits. Back in those days, when there were only four channels, I remember my very favorite being the one with a degree of static that I would not be able to endure today … PBS.

As a teenager, I remember a local cooking show, my first glimpse at homosexuality, though I did not know it at the time. One of the men was fat and the other one was thin and they had a “kitchen witch” that flew in with a tip from time to time, they both spoke with a deep southern drawl and slapped at each other with dishtowels. There was also the Cajun cook with his “un-yawn” (onion), who achieved quite a bit of fame pre-Food Network. And, lest we forget, the indomitable, Julia Child, whose voice rings clear in my ears to this day and to whom I silently pay tribute each and every time I open a bottle of wine.

As a history teacher, I found PBS.org, to be one of my favorite sources for information and for interactive elements that could be found nowhere else. If you’ve ever felt that the dimensions of PBS were in any way less than that of the Discovery or History Channels, you have obviously not taken advantage of their website. One of my students’ favorites was an interactive page that allowed you to create and detonate various atomic weapons. The students could choose particular places, like the University of North Carolina (because, clearly, they were all Duke fans) or my house. Upon detonation, the map would fill with colors that demonstrated annihilation, fall-out, and so on. PBS made that lesson and its lasting impression possible.

Recently, two of my favorites have been American Experience ~ Fatal Flood, a chronicle of blues music growing out of the Mississippi delta and American Masters ~ Annie Leibovitz: Life Through A Lens, not to mention, Bill Nye the Science Guy, the long-lived Masterpiece Theater, and Antiques Roadshow. Last night, in a fit of insomnia and overwhelmed by the sheer number of infomercials that can run at once on cable television, I landed softly on Great Performances, "Cyrano de Bergerac".

PBS is a living thing … always growing, always changing. It’s not just a television line-up for lefties. PBS offers a cutting edge glimpse into many fields of science and delivers a poignant view of current events, politics, and history. The website, as I’ve said before, offers a range of ideas and images that are unsurpassed. You can order dvd’s, download to your ipod, and find local listings there … it truly offers you the world at your fingertips and on your time.

Thank you PBS, old friend, for always being there, for showing me parts of the world that I will never see and for giving me a birds eye view of this country's history. I am forever grateful for all you’ve shared with me.

Oh My God I Have A Buffalo Hump!!!

I swear, twice today, I thought I had been shot with a poison dart or stung by a gigantic African bee. Once on my back and once on the back of my arm … a quick stab of pain … you know, the kind that you instinctively slap, for lack of a better response. Both times left me running to the bathroom, pulling my shirt off on the way.

Since my children don’t have access to poison darts (that I know of), I will assume that this startling sting is coming from these teensy, tiny little bumps … dry skin that refuses to accept moisture even from the richest and most expensive creams and ointments. Damn hormones.

I am unbalanced, anybody can tell you that … but, that’s not my problem. My problem is that my hormones are unbalanced and balancing them requires more money and time than I am genuinely interested in investing. It takes an endocrinologist on another end of the state, a rather bizarre primary care doctor who specializes in such things, a compounding pharmacy, numerous entities that analyze my spit and blood and urine, and another “medical” spa who sells various supplements. It makes me look and feel great, at least it did for a year, but is it really worth it??? I haven’t decided for sure, but if my skin keeps trying to rip a hole in my shirt, I’m probably going back!!!

Oddly enough my adventures in hormone therapy began because a substitute chiropractor told me he thought I had a “buffalo hump.” Yes, a buffalo hump … this is a medical condition … you can look it up if you don’t believe me. So, feeling insulted enough to give that guy the stink eye and stomp out of there, I hurried home to find out what “buffalo hump” was all about … and it scared the crap out of me … do I have Cushing Disease??? I think I have these symptoms. Oh my God!!! Dramatic, I know.

I start calling around. “I think I might have a buffalo hump”, I tell the receptionist.
“A what?”
“Buffalo hump.”
Click.

I think it through a little more … “Hello, I think I could have Cushing Syndrome.”
“Are you a patient of Dr. So-n-so?”
“No.”
“We’re not taking any new patients.”

At this point, I suddenly have a full-blown case of Cushing, even though I don’t even know what the hell it is. I lament … why won’t anyone help me. My hump looks bigger as I stare over my shoulder at my back in the mirror. I call the substitute chiropractor back. Apparently, he’s been made aware that this might happen and he instantly has a name and a number. Relief.
I call the doctor. Yes, I can be there tomorrow. Terrific. This is going well.

Arrive at doctor’s office. There are many things “for sale” … odd. I go back and answer at least 500 questions for a nurse who seems genuinely interested in whether or not my facial hair growth has increased a little, a lot, or not at all over the last year. She ushers me into another room where I await “The Doctor”.

“The Doctor” is a small man … suspiciously creepy looking, but harmless. He sits down with some kind of chart generated by the questioning nurse and goes on to describe my life as if he’s been stalking me … and not from afar. I mean this guy is telling me the times of day that I am pissy and the time of day that I’m hungry and what I would eat at that particular time as if he’s been filming me. He KNOWS me. I cry. He pats my knee. I feel as if he is my savior … he will fix me … all will be well.

To be fixed, I will only need a saliva test that costs about a hundred bucks. Then I will need a urine collection test … another hundred bucks. I’ll also need a blood test ~ insurance will pick that up. OK … good deal. I take the collection kits and head home.

I do the spit test the next day. Easy. Well, not really easy … it’s kind of hard to spit enough to fill up a test tube. Write the check and ship.

It takes two weeks to get the urine test done because I got my stupid period and did it wrong the first time. I finally get that one finished and shipped and get my blood drawn in the meantime. Moving right along.

I ask everyone, “Do you see this buffalo hump?” They all answer, “What?” I finally quit asking, but I’m pretty sure it’s getting worse.

Finally, six weeks later, all my tests results are in and I go for my appointment. Hormonally, I am a trainwreck. I have no testosterone, no progesterone, and the iodine levels of someone from Appalachia who eats tree bark and has never ingested table salt, and a twitchy thyroid. All correctable. All I will need is weekly injections, a few of these tablets, a prescription for that, some cream rubbed here and more exercise. Great … let’s do this thing. We both stand up to leave and then I remember …

“Oh yhea … what about my buffalo hump?”
“What?”
“This”, I say, patting my back.
“You don’t have a buffalo hump. What are you talking about?”

Ode To A Doorknob

She knows the shape by heart. If she could draw, she’d be able to sketch every contour, every shadow made by the changing hour of the clock, with her eyes closed. She’s spent the better part of this particular week, like so many past, imagining the unimaginable ... its unfortunate offering.

So she sits, and gazes at it from time to time, as the darkness locks down. Trying not to look only makes her look more often, something akin to asking a small child to be quiet in church. The need will come later, for now, it’s more like flirting or foreplay.

As the hours disappear, her gaze becomes a full, hard stare, daring not to blink, not to miss a telltale sign. The legitimacy of it all comes from inside of her and needs no validation. She knows what she knows.

Ocassionally, she moves closer ... almost placing her hand there, but retracting it each time as if the skin would burn away should she actually … touch. Maybe she sidles up close by, leaning in, her ear fixed, waiting for something that she hopes she does not hear. More likely, she will just back away, the hair standing up on the nape of her neck.

And so, with knees pulled up, she waits. She waits for the light to unbuckle the shackles and only then does she move, exhausted and stiff. He comes back tonight and the fear will assuage. Then she will sleep.

Resolution, Schmezolution ... Cream Cheese Banana Nut Bread

If you vowed to get skinny, to wear skinny jeans, or any other such thing regarding the new year and skinniness, this isn't for you. This is full of fat ... but, just get over it ... it's so delicious, you'll just forget about that anyway!!!

If you vowed to not throw away fruit, regardless of it's disgusting condition, then this recipe is for you. You want the bananas near black; soft and mushy on the inside ... pretty disgusting if you want to eat a banana, but perfect for this recipe.

On a sheet pan, lightly toast about two cups of chopped pecans.

In the big mixer: Cream 3/4 cup butter and 8 oz. cream cheese (((the cream cheese and butter should be soft ... I take for granted that you know that ... so from henceforth, anytime the directions call for you to "cream" something ... it's soft ... in case I forget to say it)))

Add 1 cup of sugar ... mix for about 2 minutes. Add two eggs ... one at a time.

Turn the mixer off. Mash up 3 good sized bananas in a bowl ... mash them a lot!

Add 3 cups of flour, 1/2 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp baking powder, and 1 tsp of salt to the mixing bowl. Depending on the size of your mixer, you might have to sort of pulse start (so you don't blow flour all over your kitchen making it look like you just had a cocaine party). Get everything just barely blended. Add the mashed bananas, half of the toasted pecans and 1 TBS of good vanilla and mix well ... but not too much.

Pour into well greased cooking pan(s) of your choice. You can make 2 loaves, 24 regular muffins, or 12 jumbo muffins with this recipe. I bake them all at 350 degrees. The regular muffins take about 25 minutes. The big muffins take about 35 minutes. 2 loaf pans takes about 45 - 55 minutes (after about 30 minutes I throw a sheet of aluminum foil over the top of the loaves to keep the pecans from burning or the top from getting too brown. Test with a skewer or toothpick before you turn the oven off.

Be sure to top with remaining toasted pecans before baking.

So if that wasn't enough to make your pants tight, you can try this:

Mix 2 TBS cream cheese & 2 TBS butter with 2 TBS powdered sugar ... frost your big ol' slice of banana bread!!!

Or ~ my FAVORITE!!!

In a small sauce pan, melt 2 TBS butter, 2 TBS brown sugar. Bring to boil. Remove from heat, let cool for about 5 minutes. Add 1 sliced banana ... pour over your big 'ol slice of banana bread. To. Die. For!!!

OK, people ... I know this isn't how you wanted to start the new year ... but you KNOW you want a bite ... whatever will you do???

Silence Nomore

In 1722, sixteen-year-old Benjamin Franklin pretended to be a middle-aged widow, Silence Dogood, and submitted letters to the local newspaper. His letters poked fun at various aspects of life in colonial America and especially Boston, such as the drunkenness of locals, religious hypocrisy, and the persecution of women. He slipped a total of fourteen letters under the door of his brother’s shop where the New-England Courant was printed. The letters were well received by readers, however when James Franklin learned of his brother’s ruse he was very angry. They found a way to work together on the Courant, poking fun at the bad manners of Bostonian society and at puritanical hypocrisy, until James was finally thrown in jail for his extreme views. Ben took over and published the paper until James was released. James was not grateful for Ben’s work and treated him badly enough that the very next year he fled Boston for Philadelphia. The rest, as they say, is history.

I love Benjamin Franklin. He was truly the most influential of our founding fathers and though he never held the office of President of the United States, he was elected the President of Pennsylvania. He was often the sole voice of reason and served as a resolute authority on the freedoms that he felt were essential to the birth of this nation. One of my very favorite things he ever said was, “They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” And in that quote lies the meaning of this post.

I recently added permissions to this blog, making it invitation only. I was frustrated with the amount of attention the site was getting due to the amount of personal content included. Now that I’ve given it some thought, I realize that I’m not really concerned about anyone knowing my private thoughts or feelings, about my cadaver or my dead mother, as a matter of fact, I’m entirely surprised that so many are interested at all. The original intent of “anthology” was to entertain my Dad, but it seems it has become a bit more than that. The recent and wonderful feedback from so many of you has encouraged me to open the doors again … that and the words of Ben that I mentioned before. Enough of ‘invitation only’ … if you know me, then you know that’s just not my style at all and if you don’t know me and you still feel like spending part of your afternoon interpreting my personality or analyzing my point-of-view, have at it … I’ve got nothing to hide.

I’ll find my safety in my liberty, not in my silence.

You May Or May Not Know That ...

(1) If you want to dance, I’ll dance … even if I don’t like the music.

(2) I would fight to the death for my family, but I don’t think I could ever shoot anybody.

(3) I have been crushing on Kid Rock for like a decade.

(4) My favorite sandwich to make at home is tuna with mayo, banana peppers, and red onion. Delicious!!!

(5) I have seriously considered sending hate mail to Nick Saban since Philip Fulmer got fired from the University of Tennessee.

(6) I believe in God … but I probably believe in whatever you believe in too.

(7) My fingers and toes are too short for my liking.

(8) I have more than a healthy interest in lymphatic drainage techniques.

(9) I love the dictionary and sometimes read pages just for fun … for extra fun, I try to make sentences using the words in order.

(10) I have never worn false eyelashes.

(11) My brother calls me to tell me what he’s watching on television … recently, he called to point me towards the Blackhawks / Redwings hockey game that was being played at Wrigley Field … yes, Wrigley Field … very cool.

(12) I hate women who ‘pretend’ to be fragile ~ if you’ve got ‘balls’ ~ have ‘em.

(13) I wanted to be a hair stylist when I was in high school.

(14) I believe that less than 10 people really rule the world, and that one of them is Oprah. I don't know if this is good or bad.

(15) I believe that gay people should be able to get married … in a church or whereever the hell they please.

(16) I own Jerry Falwell’s shoes that he wore for all of 2005 and keep them under my bed in a USPS box with the greeting card that accompanied them.

(17) I have been to Graceland … and enjoyed it.

(18) I fantasize about Peyton and Eli fighting over me … Peyton always wins.

(19) I think global warming is primarily the effect of air travel.

(20) My greatest fear is home invasion, but I'm scared of a lot of other stuff too.

(21) I have karaoke’d “Rocky Top” twice … which is two times too many.

(22) I adore my mother-in-law and my stepmother ~ ugly titles, awesome, beautiful women.

(23) I hope all four of my sons go to the same college … creating a massive legacy.

(24) LadyBird Johnson is my favorite first-lady. I wore white gloves my entire first grade year in her honor. Every time you see a beautiful flower on the highway, you can thank LadyBird.

(25)If I could begin my undergraduate studies again, I would become a cultural anthropologist and spend my life studying the Masai.