R.I.P.

Usually, this blog is filled with whimsical stories and lighthearted folly

but today, I am extremely saddened by the deaths of both
Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson.
So, today, I pay tribute to each.

One battled fearlessly against an insufferable cancer and
the other died suddenly, much, much too young.
Both are loved by many, both will be remembered...always.

R.I.P.
Farrah Fawcett
Feb 2, 1947- June 25, 2009
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zh_v8IIRk2s

R.I.P.
Michael Jackson
Aug. 29, 1958- June 25, 2009
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ber5DrM6dG8

head case

I recently read that people who have suffered concussions actually have permanent brain damage. Usually mild, but apparently permanent.

This explains a lot.

As a kid, I was a tomboy. Of course, I played with barbies and stuffed animals and used Play Dough to make pretend hot dogs, which I served at my pretend restaurant... and I adored my Easy Bake oven (I ingested a LOT of raw ingredients. It is simply not reasonable to expect an 8 year old to wait for a light bulb to bake brownies.). But, I also played in the mud, built forts, climbed trees, jumped fences, rode bikes, played softball, skateboarded, ice skated and roller skated. Along with such activities came sprained wrists, crutches, stitches and...concussions.

Four, to be exact.

One occurred while ice skating (I naturally suck at all winter sports), one while roller skating with a cup of Kool Aid in my hand, one while skateboarding down an insanely steep hill in an attempt to impress the cute boy who lived at the top...and who didn't know I existed and probably wasn't even home at the time, and one while playing "run and slide on the ice patch" during 8th grade recess. We were 13, what do you want?

The ice patch fall was a doozie which caused temporary blindness (No, Mr. Thomas, God rest your mean old soul, I wasn't faking it to get out of math class that day. But, I'm not sorry I missed it.) and, I now believe, a whole host of other issues including, but not limited to, the following:

-Last week it took me 4 full minutes to figure out how to get a travel toothbrush back into its case. yep.

-My math center doesn't work. I'm not even sure it exists. I don't know exactly where it is located in the brain, but I'm pretty sure I fell on it during the skateboarding incident. Stupid cute boy.

-I utterly adore brand new jars of peanut butter. Specifically, Skippy. If i get to be the first one to break the unnaturally smooth surface, my life feels complete. Tell me that's not brain damage.

-I once forgot my dog's name. The vet tech said, "Who do we have here?" and I said, "um..." followed by a blank stare and head tilt. uh huh.

-I have watched all three seasons of Rock of Love. And, I'm hoping Brett breaks up with Taya so there can be a Rock of Love 4. God help me.

-All these years I thought Michale Jackson was saying, "keep on, do the bus stop, don't stop 'til you get enough." Figured the "bus stop" was a kind of dance. Astonished I had that wrong.

-I continue to throw myself into the horror that is the LA dating pool. I think the use of the word horror is explanation enough here.

The list goes on...and on. But, I'll stop now for fear of scaring off...everyone single one of my readers.

***This post is dedicated to my childhood partner-in-crime, Charlotte, who bore witness to many of my mishaps and who got side-swiped by a speeding car while biking to DQ with me via a highway we were NOT supposed to be on...something we manged to hide from her parents despite cuts, bruises and limping. Hopefully, her mother is not one of my followers... ;)***