Nyquil and Yahtzee

I own a handheld Yahtzee game.

Normally, I consider it an amusing diversion for one or two rounds. But, when compelled, I have been forced to admit that I have played for several rounds before realizing that today is NOT the day in which I will beat my high score of 561.

Don't laugh. Yours isn't much better.

Sadly, I have a confession to make.

After repeated doses (at the appropriate time distance) of Nyquil, I can't put the stupid game down.

No matter that my score hasn't ever even broken 300, I am thoroughly convinced in my night-night cold medicine fog that this will be the one, the game in which I will break the bank and roll and electronically simulated perfect game.

I can't stop.

I want to. My eyes twitch from the repetive cycle of watching the spots appear and disappear in rapid succession from the little dice shapes on the readout panel of the game.

But I can't stop.

This might be the winning hand.

Finally compelled only by dizziness to put the stupid thing down, I leave somehow faintly depressed that I couldn't manage to top my old score.

Deep down I am convinced that I HAVE indeed beaten the score and that the game is lying to me with Nyquil breath and an evil laugh.

I re-read the label. 10% alcohol by volume. Does this mean per dose or for the whole container? And will I spontaneously burst into flames when I tuck in under my electric blanket?

Do my eyes resemble nothing more than Ned the Wino's after a weekend spent on a bottle of ripple?

And what is that annoying beating noise?

Oh, wait. Scratch that last one. That would be my heartbeat which I can actually hear along with the ringing in my ears.

Someone, anyone, please help me find my bed.

Thanksgiving and Iron Bowl

Somehow, the Thanksgiving season just is better with the addition of a good weekend of football.

I'll admit it.

I'm an addict.

And isn't that half of the battle?

So having admitted my affliction, does that mean a prescription of ESPN 1 & 2 can help me through my withdrawals from society, activity and life itself for an infusion of team spirit and yellow flags?

I'd love to have a wonderful set up like they have at the electronics stores. Multiple screens, sound systems that rival a theater and a remote control to command everything into action at the touch of a button.

I feel the testosterone level in the room rising.

Sure, I'm female but I totally get the gladiatorial competition and the need for conquest. It's a total turf war waged for a pigskin that doesn't even matter when all is said and done.

Except that it does.

Church congregations have actually split over the Iron Bowl bragging rights in this state. Everyone has an opinion and unless you are wearing the right team colors, your opinion is wrong. And it has nothing to do with which pew your family has sat in for decades.

Sadly, there are those in even good families who stray. For reasons known only to themselves, these benighted souls root for the opposition.

Perhaps it is a genetic anomoly? Some kind of DNA quirk that prevents brain receptors from seeing and hearing the same things that the rest of the family does?

Or is it sheer perversity that drives some to seek out a rival host to support their ego in an alternate universe from the one the rest of the family inhabits?

Whatever the cause, the civil war is still being fought in the homes that dot our nations when the rival colleges within our fair state toss the ball into the air on a crisp fall day and try to outlast each other until the final tick of the clock.

If you don't understand, I'm truly sorry. You are missing out on the spice of life.

Happy Thanksgiving

With all of the politically correct trying to revise history all over the place without regard for the truth, let's take today and be thankful for our freedoms.



Without the freedom of this nation, all of our women might very well be wearing burkas and not be educated at all.



Without the freedom of this nation, all of our young men might be killed in senseless acts of violence proclaimed necessary by a despot.



Without the blessings we have under God, we would have no choice of how, where or what we worship or even if we worship at all.



We have food, shelter, clothing and friends who make our lives pleasant.



And I am not unaware of those who suffer. We share our bounty each month to help those who are less fortunate.



Everyone should do so.



After all, if we are blessed to be here, we can surely pay it forward to those who aren't so fortunate today.



God bless America and pass the turkey and gravy!

Little things

So, the day has stroked by in a fog.



I stayed up all night and watched the little digital representation of the plane my son was flying to his new home in Germany.



For those who are differently attached to their offspring, watching the visual tracking doesn't sound like something that particularly sane people spend all night doing or admitting.

But to me, it was a comfort. The tiny plane wasn't just a plane going to foreign soil for strangers.

That tiny plane on my screen carried a piece of my heart to another place, far outside of my chest and taking that little boy now grown to man into a future that I can only hear about from a distance.

Being a mother is not for wimps.