HampoLand

People In Miami Smell Better

Apparently I have a freaky confession to make. I haven’t flown on a commercial aircraft since 9/11. It’s a whole new world out there . I’m a triceratops, banging around, looking for the volcano, while the rest of the world uses IPhone as boarding passes. To make matters worse, I only carry cash, no credit cards. I didnt’ realize the rest of the United States doesn’t use cash anymore, they are all about plastic.

So, first there was the security thing. We all had to take our shoes off then assume the superman pose in order to get scanned. I can’t believe one “shoe bomber” with greasy looking hair has forced all Americans to take off their footwear in the airport. It’s kind of bizarre standing barefoot with hundreds of strangers. Even cops with great big army boots have to take them off. Standing with naked feet in Miami is probab,ly a lot more comfortable than the Wisconsin barefoot experience. Seeing all those exposed toes was kind of cool and made us a little bit vulnerable. Except for me cause I’m a ninja, and I’m used to barefoot living. (*Note to self, net time wear socks. My shoes were reallly stinky)

Something else I noticed in Miami. Those people smell better than we do. They wear wonderful scents tha’ aren’t too heavy and make me happy. And, as every one knows, most of the people in South Florida are a lot skinnier than Arkansasns. Those wonderful smelling, skinny Floridians. And get this, at the Miami airport they have “Cell Phone Parking Lots”. You only get a ticket if you get out of the car.

Ok,here’s the problem with having the nerve to carry cash. First, checking my bags was an issue. They wanted me to use the Kiosk and a credit card. Didn’t have one. So the airline folks had to spend at least ten minutes finding someone who knew what to do with dollar bills. They looked at my folded twenties with disdane. Yo, that’s an Andrew  Jackson, stop looking at me like a hater.  Then, I wanted a buggy to haul my crazy heavy computer bag on. (yes I’m one of the last to have a bag without wheels.) You can’t get a cart without cash.

When I finally got to sit down I discovered you can’t use the Internet unless you have plastic and then it got worse, on the flight I couldn’t get snacks or drinks without a credit card. I get pretty grumpy without snacks.  Sure, I saved over forty bucks  because I only carry cash but boy was I miserable.

So things are different out there now. People smell better, have hotter phones and unlike me, get to buy snacks on airplanes because they have credit cards.

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Mike Tyson and Popcorn Brain

This morning I had a terrible case of “popcorn brain”. This happens to me at least once a week when my brain is so full of fantastic ideas and projects that I can’t actually get anything done. I just pop from brilliant to more brilliant.

First, I was listening to a Mike Tyson interview. He’s soooo cool now. Tyson talked about his heavyweight championship belts, he said they were just trash, just old history, stuff that “represents money and dope” and that doesn’t mean much to him. Now, the only thing he really cares about are his family and kids and pigeons.

Then, I realized Sandor, who is eight, had never listened to Harry Belafonte, so we went through Tally Man, The Boo Boo Song while he ate breakfast.

Next, I heard Gil Scott Heron had died. I’ve loved him forever, he was the first rapper, forty years ago, long before Run DMC and the Sugarhill Gang. And while I was thinking about his song Whitey On The Moon.(I’ll write more on hime later). That’s when I realized our hummingbird feeder was empty and a different bird had finished a nest over the back door and I really needed to mop the kitchen bathroom.

All these thoughts made me reconsider “Thank You Note Week’, something I’ve been wanting to do forever. We should all write a thank you note to someone everyday, for one week. Thinking about thank you notes made me  remember it’s Sunday and we had to get ready for church and then maybe we should go to the lake, if it’s warm enough to swim. While I was looking for clean socks for Sandor we started cleaning out his drawers because they were an absolute nightmare. There was a turtle shell, kazoo and three sticky popsicle sticks in one drawer. Then I saw my boxing gloves buried in Sandors bead. I put them on and threw twenty jabs. I haven’t worked out in a week and it’s making me a little crazy.

All these thoughts in less than five minutes. It was pretty exhilerating. I love popcorn brain, Mike Tyson, Gil Scott heron and I really love being home.

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Stupid Ass Stuff My Dad Said

Back by semi-popular demand this is a reprint and because I think it’s really funny. Also I’m reprinting this one because my brother, who says some of the most &%$#*@ up stuff in the world,  is in the hospital. Goodnews though, yesterday he started calling the nurses “darlin’”  so I know he’ll be ok.

*%$#* my dad and brother said.
Yeah, William Shatner has a bad show and he’s a pain in the *$%  who says messed up &!)*, but I think we all have fathers with ridiculous ideas.
My dad, I Granger McDaniel, was a genius, a visionary, a war hero, but he said some *^@% up stuff.
I remember when I was a little girl, sitting at the table with my mom, dad and brothers,I started picking at my food, pushing the peas under the bread, because I was full and didn’t want to eat anymore. My mother told me I had to eat the rest of my dinner and Dad interrupted her , “Don’t make the girls clean their plates, the fat ones are hard to get married off”. Serisoulsy…he said that out loud.

When I was four, I sat on Dad’s lap, played with his massive mustache and told him an epic story about bears and trolls and the fairies who lived in my underwear drawer. He laughed, shook his head and said, “Little girls, as soon as they can open their eyes they can flirt, as soon as they can open their mouths they can lie”. This was during the sixties when sexism was pretty white bread.

I Granger said some other absurd and brilliant things too, but maybe the two most important comments were a lot easier to follow. My two favorites were, “On any given day, anything can happen”. Think about it. That one is as right as rain. Miricles do happen, unbeatable teams loose, sometimes losers and long shots win. Anything is possible on any given day.

And finally, he would sit on the edge of my bed every night and remind me, “When your imagination accepts it as reality, it will inevitably become the truth”. For crazy people and little girls that’s a powerful mantra. It makes you brave no matter how enormous the enemy; it allows you to dream and believe the best can and will happen. That phrase allowed me to keep faith and hope alive, no matter how disastrous the situation. Obviously, those are re-phrased biblical ideas. My father wanted me to believe, to have faith and to see that everything is possible.

I hang on to my father’s words, all of them, the good and the bad, and too this day, I never ever clean my plate.

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Lexie Didn’t Win…Hummm

Everyone expected Lex to win the Taekwondo tournament last weekend, all categories, hands down. But she didn’t. She was stellar, looked beautiful and inspiring but she didn’t win the tournament. We all thought she would.

I’d spent a lot of money getting her there. I’d gotten up at 4 am, driven with almost no sleep in a car that wanted to give up the ghost. I felt lousy. She was supposed to win and didn’t, so half way thorough an excruciatingly long and loud taekwondo tournament I was exhausted and very very grumpy. I was still smiling because i loved all the competitors, even if I didnt know them, but I wanted desprately to drive three hours, get home, drink a beer, watch bad tv and go to sleep.

But something happened. After Lexie didn’t win, another mom with a young daughter caught up with me. “I don’t relly know anything about this stuff but I hope my daughter will grow up to be just like your daughter. She was amazing to watch.”

A little girl asked Lexie for her autograph. Then it was time for her to judge the lower rank student.

She was so supportive when she talked to the chubby yellow belt, she cheered for the underdog and high-fived the skinny kids who looked like she wanted to cry. Parents asked if she was my kid and I said yes and they said “she’s wonderful,” and “she’s so great”.

NOTE…THEY DID NOT ASK IF SHE TOOK FIRST PLACE.

Sometimes God sends us out into the world to get a job done. We don’t know what it is. We think it’s about us…and it’s not. It was such a long long day, but now, I realize it was worth it.

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I Love Coffee, It’s Healthy… But Not Arnold

*I don’t really care about Arnold Schwartzenegger’s Love Child or House Help. Apparently the 13 year old boy looks just like him, how cool would that be?

*I don’t care much that M-Bone, the rapper who invented The Dougie, was killed in a drive by (his real name was Manta Ray, why go by M-Bone)

And I think it’s funny that the Obama campaign is selling  birth certificate t-shirts. I kind of want one.

So, what do I care about?  Coffee dammit. That’s right a cup of Joe is number one on my list today. I heard a story on NPR this morning that really lit me up.  New studies are in on the health effects of  coffee and let me tell you, it’s good news.  Coffee is amazing stuff that helps fight cancer.

One of my grandmothers used to tell me coffee would stunt my growth and thus prevent me from getting a husband. Ha…Bubba, you were wrong.

A Harvard study tested 5,000 men who drank coffee and found

* “their risk of getting this bad form of prostate cancer was bout 60 percent lower compared to men who drank almost no coffee”! 

*Earlier research suggests coffee reduces the risk of diabetes, liver disease and Parkinsons”! Yeah, fill up my cup one more time. I don’t can how badly my hand is shaking.

And finally:

*Swedish researchers reported that women who drink at least five cups of coffee a day have nearly a 60 percent lower risk of a particularly aggressive breast cancer.”

Bottom line…if we drink coffee all our private parts seem to be a little bit safer.

Now that’s some important news.

http://www.npr.org/blogs/health/2011/05/18/136402267/coffee-lowers-risk-of-deadliest-prostate-cancer

Tomorrow’s Blog…Are Politicians and Famous People more likely to have an affair….HELL YES!

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Maybe I Do Need To Go Shopping

I’m not a shopper. I haven’t been in a long time. If I need a  dressy white take top I walk into the mall with cash in hand. I move from store to store until I find a white tank top. I guess, if I had money, I would love to buy “stuff”, just pick out something that looks pretty or seems cool.

It’s entirely possible, if I visitited a store or the mall with unlimited credit I would buy things that simply catch my eye. Maybe I’d buy a bolero jacket like this one at http://www.become.com/bolero-jacket. Now there’s something I haven’t considered in years. I think Beau Derrick and Catherine Zeta Jones both looked beautiful in boleros. Could I pull it off, I don’t know, but my daughter Lexie could, because she has broad shoulders and a great neck. I’m still looking for my white tank top. But I’m kind of curious.

I’m back in the mall, or poking around on line and maybe I’ve decide what I really need is an aluminum wallet, yeah, that sounds interesting.  Have you seen these? http://www.become.com/aluminum-wallets They are smooth, classy aluminum wallets. The look like tiny brief cases and one real advantage, I would always have a smoothand  hard surface to write on and that’s kind of cool. But an aluminum wallet…hummm?

I haven’t purchased any luggage in years but if I did I think I’d go for something crazy looking. like this http://www.become.com/animal-print-luggage Why do I want fun and funky luggage?  So I can find it in the airport terminal.  Who needs a brown or black bag that swims in a school of other brown and black bags. I want to be part of the cool herd. I want to show up at a friends house with luggage people notice, instead of my son’s grubby backpack.

Maybe this shopping thing could be fun. It’s possible I need to reconsider my boring  habits and  loosen up a little. So next time you see me in a flirty bolero jacket with my aluminum wallet and zebra print suitcase….don’t hate me…congratulate me. Who needs a white tank top anyway.

*Sponsored Blog

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Upcoming Sponsored Blog Post

Because Google Adsense recently kicked me out of their program (I’m still not sure why) I’ve agreed to accept a couple of sponsored blog posts.
Yes, I’m a sell out. Actually the first one was kind of funny and inline with my pro-martial arts mind set. Hopefully I won’t loose you. We’ll see what happens.

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Parents! I Learned How Sexting Starts!

Yup, the code has been broken.  One of Lexie’s friends recently explained to me exactly how teenaged sexting with pictures starts.

 As parents when we hear that a teenaged girl is in a pickel because she sent a picture of her boobs to a boy we sigh and groan and say ‘what the hell was she thinking, how could this happen?” Well, now I know.

It goes something like this and according to my 15 year old informant the script doesn’t vary much.

Girl and boy are flirting via text.

Guy: “I’m just lying here watching tv. I wish you were here.”

Girl: “Me too”.

Guy: “I’m  sore from lifting weights. But look at this”. Then he sends a picture of himself with his shirt off looking all ripped.

Girl: “Nice lol”

Guy: “You should send me a picture”.

Girls sends a picture of her pretty face.

Guy: “That’s not fair. Send me a good picture.”

And then…if the girl is stupid(that’s how teenager put it)…she sends him a picture of her boobs. If she’s smart she laughs at hims and says something like “No way.”

And then the teenager and Lexie and I discussed the next thing that happens. Both the boy and girl take their phones to school. The girl shows other girls the picture of the guys muscular chest, everybody comments and it’s not that big of a deal. 

And the guy does the same thing. He shows all his friends, team mates and acquaintances, even his little brother and uncle,  the picture of the girl without her shirt. And it’s a very big deal because he promised he wouldn’t show anyone.

As parents I think we have a few options.  We can pull out children out of school and keep them at home for the next ten years.

We can take away their phones or at least give them phones without cameras. Or, we can warn our daughters that this is how the situation almost always unfolds.  The boy will show everybody the pictures on his phone because he’s proud of them and thinks their hot. It’s doesn’t make him a bad guy, it just makes him a normal guy.

After I learned all this from the 15 year old I called one of my older, 20 something kids (I’m not going to name).  I started explaining how all the teenaged sexting starts and was interrupted.  “Mom, I know how it starts.”

Ouch!  And I made a mental note. “Never ever pick up older childs’ phone and casually glance at the photos without permission.”

*Names have not been included to protect the innocent and guilty.

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WORKING MOMS SHOULD GET PAID LESS THAN SINGLE FOLKS.

This is a Hampoland re-print, by request. I hope you guys like it twice.

Working Moms Should get Paid Less Than Normal, Childless People. That’s right, I just wrote those words and I’m the mother of four children. Throw kitchen implements, like can openers and boxes of Mac and Cheese at me if you need to, but Im serious and I’m right.

Every week I loose hours, lots and lots of hours, of productivity because of my children. There are the phone calls and texts, Facebook messages and IM. They need money, they need love, they need an idea for a paper, they need a copy of their birth certificate, a bunch of boys on the high school football team got caught with a beer bong and are suspended from the team, their best friend just lost her virginity to a super creep. The reasons for the conversations go on and on and I love them because I’m a good mom. The truth is these calls are the highlight of my day.

Then there are the secret trips for the kids. The ones I take when I’m supposed to be out working, selling things and making money for my employer, but I’m actually at the doctor’s office because one of them has a funky wart. Or I’m buying sophies or tennis shoes so she can work out with the volleyball team. Or there’s the legendary and desperate message on my cell phone, “Mom, I left my report at the house. If I don’t turn it in I’ll get an F, can you go get it for me? I have to have it by noon”.

There’s time spent on Facebook stalking my children. It’s really important so I can figure out what’s going on and who I need to ban from the house (probably the 16 year old boy with huge swoopy hair who appears to be smoking a joint the size of a cigar on his facebook profile).

And when my child wakes up with a 103 degree fever and needs to stay home, I make that phone call to my boss in a heartbeat. Nothing at work is more important than my child’s health.

And finally, I spend time every day staring at pictures of my kids, thinking about how much I like their faces. Sandor’s buck teeth and freckles, Lexie’s joy filled eyes and dress that’s waaaayyy too short, Mary’s splendid arching eye brows and her funny duck face and the way Jack puts his arm around me when we take pictures and his porn star mustache. I even spend a lot of time looking at pictures of their tattooes (the big kids, not the little ones have tats) I just stare at their pictures and sigh, all the time. I bet I spend ten minutes everyday doing that, almost an hour a week.

I suspect most good parents are just like me. We have to put our kids first, and do what’s necessary. I think an employer would be totally justified if he decided to pay me less.

But who needs money more than a good parent? We have to buy stuff for our children, we want them to have an instrument so they can march with the band, we want them to go to football camp so they can start next season. There are prom dresses and crappy cars and insurance. College text books ($300 for biology) and orthodontists. We have to pay all those doctors to look at their weird warts and moles, we need money, lots and lots of money so we can take care of the children we love so much.

So, maybe good moms are the best employees. Maybe we are the most motivated and driven…maybe moms should actually be paid more!

I have to go now, my boss is texting me because I’m late getting back from lunch and the nurse just said it’s Lexie’s turn to see the dentist.

*Guys, men, fathers: I did not write about you because I don’t know what you do during the day. Do you Facebook stalk, do you look at pictures and sigh? I’m not so sure. But if you are a good dad and do the “work day run around” for your child…this piece is for you too. Keep up the good work.

Follow me on twitter if you can, I need friends

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I Write Blogs You Can Read In The Bathroom

I write really short blogs. And I think that’s a good thing. I try to keep it short for two reasons. First, I don’t think most of you have a lot of free time to spend reading lengthy  pieces from Hampoland. I’m smart buy my insights probably won’t change your life.  And I know I’m crazy busy from 6am until 9:30pm so I think most of you are too.  I sometimes find myself checking Sandor’s school work while breakfast is in the microwave and I’m blow drying my hair. I pluck my eyebrows at red lights.

The second reason I try to keep my blogs short? I know I write about ridiculous, silly, stupid stuff. Lets see, my last five blogs were about gangsters, dead birds, Meatloaf and Donald Trump, bratty kids and my bad mood. 

Really how much time to do need to spent on these topics?  So you see, I’m actually protecting you from waisting a lot of time reading about stupid stuff. That’s how much I love you.

I’m going to admit right now that I rarely read entire newspaper stories or blogs.  I read the first three paragraphs then kind of skim the rest. Generally I’m pretty  interested, I just don’t have much time. Hopefully my doctor, lawyer and accountant have more patience when reading documents and text books.

So get back on task right now , make a list of stuff you need to do, stay focused. And by the way, this blog was only  250 words.

*Hey Follow Me On Twitter So I Don’t Feel Lonesome. Thanks! DH

265 words now

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