Jesse was a friend...

I am flipping channels on the ol' TV because my kids have gone outside to play Hide From Little Miss, a classic game for the ages. I stop on General Hospital, which I haven't watched since the '80s (my mom got me addicted when I was in elementary school - which explains my exemplary moral fibre). So I see Little Robin Scorpio, but she is a doctor now. Does your doctor wear a tight sweater with a black bra underneath? Yeah, mine doesn't either, but I'm glad, because if he did, that'd REALLY freak me out. So then I see Bobbie and Dr. Noah Drake on the roof. YES! Dr. Noah Drake = '80s HeartThrob Rick Springfield. I LOVE HIM!!! Man, he has aged well. I love Jesse's Girl and that other song he sang. Also, I loved Jack Waggoner, another GH alumni, but I don't remember any of his songs, just that he sang them to his TV/real life wife Felicia. I so wanted to BE her. She was married to a total hottie, had cute kids, and she was a spy. Talk about your multi-tasker. And John Stamos. BLACKEY! I LOVE HIM, TOO!!! WHOO WHOO. Those were the days, my friend! Okay, so, I am flipping back to It's a Big, Big World. This show freaks me out. I guess I don't appreciate big scary puppets with fake English accents that just spend all their time being NICE to each other -- like life in the wild is anything like that! My kids need to know what the real world is like! Maybe I should let the kids watch GH? Okay, probably not, but I'm tempted.

The Roots of My Crazy Obsession

I am hanging out in the basement watching Schoolhouse Rock with my kids, and I want to offer you a precious insight into my soul. You see, I am obsessed with government, mostly state and local government, because I feel like I can have more of an impact. It's what I do -- I serve on committees and commissions -- I manage campaigns -- I lobby -- AND, this year I even WROTE A BILL. And it all started with Bill. You see, he's just a bill, and he's sitting there on Capitol Hill. And I FEEL for him -- I'm afraid he's going to get stuck in committee (which I can personally testify is a BAD BAD thing). Or he's going to get passed (finally. HELLO!) and then have to wait in the long line for the president to sign him (HURRY UP, Mr. Governor!). But someday, he's gonna be a law, Oh, I hope and pray that he will, but until, he is still just a bill. So by allowing me to sit in front of cartoons for endless Saturday mornings, my mom shaped my destiny, and now the destiny of my children (except for Little Miss, who would rather play with the money she stole from her brother's wallet. I am concerned about her destiny, but that is another post). So, that is an insight into my soul.

I've got some SKILLS, my friends!

Okay, as a rookie blogger, I am pleased to announce that not only do I now have an adorable picture next to my comments, but I also figured out how to put links on the side of my blog, AND THEY WORK! The only computer class I ever took was in 6th grade, and all we did was write programs to make our names scroll across the screen of the TRS-80 (available at RadioShack) and then save our programs on a cassette tape. I love being a child of the '80s! Now, I will try and put a link INTO a post. Check this out! To see information about my family's (siblings, not husband and wee ones) favorite movie, click here .

KELLY!

This is my desperate attempt to learn how to get a picture by my name when I post. FYI, I look much more like Kelly than DaltonGirl looks like a little white dog.

Lead me, guide me...

When I was in college, there was this adorable man named Scott. He was totally cute and brainy - just my type (it was not until later that I learned that the definition of my type should also include 'knows that I'm alive,' but I digress). So, at the singles ward/beauty pageant one Sunday, I sat right in front of him, hoping he would notice me (cute plaid mini-skirt, white tights and patent leather shoes. I thought I was hot, when I actually looked like Barbie's little sister Kelly). During the opening song, I Am a Child of God, he is singing, "Lead me, Guide me, Chaka Kahn me, Help me find the way." Needless to say, I spent the next hour and five minutes giggling and planning our wedding. My never ending love for him lasted about a week, but forever I will think of him when I hear a Chaka Kahn song.

Little Miss Panic Attack

In my quest to become volunteer of the year at my elementary school, I worked my magic and scheduled UEA's Cat in the Hat to come for Dr. Seuss Night. While others were wearing silly costumes (Thing One and Thing Two looked GREAT) and sweating and working to make sure all 450 people in attendance were in the right place, having a good time, being read to by a celebrity and getting ice cream and a free bookmark, my entire job consisted of standing near a 7 1/2 foot tall cat. That's it. I was the Cat's escort (that sounds dirty, but it's not). My husband had a meeting, so I was also in charge of my three kids - Junior (4th grade), Trey (1st grade) and Little Miss (3 1/2). This was set to be the easiest night of my life -- put them in the activity room, have them get read to by a celebrity, and stand next to a cat.

So, the kiddos and I meet the adorable young lady who wears the costume as she is putting it on, and we have a nice conversation. Then we go out and wait for the cat to come out. While we are waiting, Little Miss is having a lovely chat with the mayor. "It's not really a giant cat. It is a girl in a costume. I was Cinderella for Halloween." She is one of his most trusted advisors.

Then, the fabulous Cat in the Hat makes it's appearance. It is amazing in it's gigantic, stripey-hatted splendor. We are all awestruck. Well, almost all of us are awestruck -- Little Miss sees the Cat, and in super-slow-mo shrieks in terror, runs to me, and has to be taken to the Vice Principal's office to calm down. Wails of terror are heard emanating from the VP office for 20 minutes. Junior is so embarrassed that he begs me to take him home. I spent the rest of the night making sure that Little Miss and the Cat were never in the same place at the same time. So, not only was I hindered in my ability to escort the cat, I'm pretty sure DCFS received a dozen calls from concerned parents. Probably not going to get that Volunteer of the Year award. Or Mother of the Year, either.

I better go upstairs and clean the toilets before DCFS shows up.

Wish me luck.