Cue KC and the Sunshine Band

Madd Maxx emailed me this morning to remind me that on this date 33 years ago, we were graduating from eighth grade. A moment of silence brothers and sisters, for the powder blue tuxedo and the Gunne Sax prairie dress…… Amen.


How Maxx remembers these things I don’t know. I can’t remember where I put my reading glasses ten minutes ago. Anyhow, the email sent my mind wandering a bit down memory lane, and just for spurts and giggles I thought I’d throw out a few tidbits about June 2, 1978. (Other than the fact that I'm old enough to be able to name all of the characters in Fat Albert.) Pull up a seat and grab a Frosty Root Beer friends, while we reminisce about the days when my life revolved around the AM transistor radio and QT Tanning Lotion.

June 2, 1978

-Tom Petty rocked The Midnight Special.

-ELO played to a sold out audience at Wembley Arena in London.

-President Carter was chillin’ at Camp David.

-A stamp cost 15 cents.

-Gas cost 90 cents a gallon and daddy was belly achin’ about it.

-The video game Space Invaders was being launched (Oh, to have all of those quarters back.)

-Match Game was one of the top 3 game shows on television, and my mama thought Richard Dawson was dirty minded. She was right.

-Phil Donohue was on the current issue of TV Guide. Mama thought he was the diddly bop shefizzle.

-A situation was brewing that would soon lead to the suicides of cult leader Jim Jones and his followers.

-The first test tube baby was nearing the end of gestation.

-The average income was $17,000.

-The average price of a home was $54,800.

-TV shows that had just ended for good included the Carol Burnette Show, Maude, Police Woman, The Six Million Dollar Man, The Bionic Woman, Columbo and Chico and the Man. I wanted to be Angie Dickinson. I’m not sure what that says about me as a thirteen year old.

-Grandpa Walton, Will Geer, would die in another month or so.

-The average price of a new car was $5,000 except in our house where my dad insisted on driving a Chrysler that was older than Will Geer.

-Movie companies were getting ready to release Jaws, which would keep us out of the ocean and Animal House, which would make us Shout. Could I get a little Otis Day, please?

-Ashton Kutcher was four months old.

-Gold sold for $200 an ounce. It’s about $1,500 an ounce today, which shows how much has changed in the last thirty years.

-Israel attacked southern Lebanon and military rebels killed the president of Afghanistan and took over that country, which goes to show how much HASN’T changed since then.

-Oh, and I said goodbye to elementary school by shaking my booty at my first school dance. Some things are worth revisiting.

Hula's Photo of the Week

So, last week I was taking a few pictures of a graduate and her daughter. Her daughter was not the least bit interested in having her picture taken since there was a playground nearby and a previous slip of the tongue by grandpa about ice cream. She was not at all cooperative. But a funny thing happened on the way to the forum. A lady came walking by with a parrot, which totally fascinated the little girl. We jokingly asked if we could use the parrot, and the lady happily obliged. And wham. There was a smile. Or two. Or three. And a giggle here and there by her AND mom. We ended up getting me some great pictures. I love it when the unexpected happens.

And in case you were wondering, there WAS ice cream afterwards.

All Graduated Out

The graduation festivities are over, and we survived intact. A good time was had by all, everything went well and I managed to make it through a baccalaureate program, honors night, the graduation ceremony and Project Graduation without crying. I came close a few times, and I thought I was going to burst out in loud tears when the kids released their balloons at the end of Project Graduation early Saturday morning, but I held it together, which was a dadgum miracle I tell ya’. Besides being emotional, I was worn out from staying up all night with 98 rowdy teenagers at the time, and a sore toe could have made me weep. However, I bit my lip and can now say I made it through each event without actually shedding a tear. Although, I’d rather not talk about how many tissues I needed while writing the letter they asked us to write to our child for placement in his Project Graduation goodie bag. THAT’S where all my tears went, three days before graduation. By the way, for those of you not familiar with it, Project Graduation is an event where the kids are basically locked in the school all night for a variety of fun and games as a way of keeping them from getting drunk, driving and killing themselves, like we used to do when I was a teenager. There are financial incentives for attending, and all but four or five kids in Teen Angel’s class attended. As a chaperone, it’s kind of like running a marathon; it takes every ounce of physical strength you have, you’re proud you stayed awake the whole time and you want someone, ANYONE to give you a medal for surviving the darn thing.


We were up all night during Project Graduation, and around 5am Saturday I looked at Hubby and said, “I know without a doubt that I am finally just too old to stay up all night.” Watching the sun rise after partying all night just isn’t the same at 47 as it is at 18. I never thought I’d reach the age where a cool pillow and five hours of sleep sounded better than another pitcher of margaritas and a convenience store burrito at 3am, but there it is. I’m becoming a geezer, and I just don’t care.

We also had a graduation/pool party at our house last night, where the kids swam and made noise until about 1am, and I’d apologize to the neighbors for the noise, but the drunken pool party two houses down from us drowned us out and no one seemed to notice our mayhem. This is the second teen gathering at our house in a week that went until 1am. The first time, Hubby woke me up around midnight, told me the kids were still in the pool and asked me if he should send them home. I said, “They are 18. We know where they are and what they’re doing. No.” But I did remind him that I had to be up for work at 5:30 the next morning, and that since he was the retired one he was responsible for keeping an eye on them until the party ended. And back to that we’re too old to keep staying up this late thing, we are happy the late night festivities are over for a while.

We got word two days before graduation that Teen Angel was ranked 7th in her class, putting her in a special place on the podium during graduation and near the front of the diploma line. And if you think I’m not going to brag about that, then you must not know the Ten Commandments of Parenting. She’s a good kid, and I’m proud of her scholastic achievement, but honestly, I was most proud of her when she relayed to me a graduation night conversation between her and a girl in her class. The girl asked Teen Angel why she wasn’t more sad about the fact the kids wouldn’t see each other again on a regular basis. TA said, “Mom, I just told her, high school is a small part of life. There’s a whole big world out there, and I plan on seein’ it.” Now, that’s my girl. And that one statement was worth all of the late nights this past week and in the last eighteen years that we’ve spent raising that child. She got her schedule for her first semester of college last Friday, and all I can say is, “Look out world! Here she comes.”

Number 7 in her class!

And we couldn't be more proud.  Not just for her scholastic achievements but for the beautiful person she has become. 

It's graduation night, brothers and sisters.  Pray that I hold myself together without too many tears.  Oh, and pray for us parents staying up all night at Project Graduation.  Hula hasn't seen the back side of 4am since she had the flu in 2008.

Duck and Smother

There I am sitting in the closet last night with Teen Angel and the dog and cat, wondering if this tornado season will ever end, and the dog looks up at me as if to say, “Seriously, are we going to hide in here AGAIN?” And I said to him, “Dude, you gotta do something about your anal glands.” Poor fellow, he’s terrified of thunder and lightning, AND he’s a bit out of sorts anyway since he was recently diagnosed as diabetic, and he now gets two insulin shots a day. He’s not a fan of the needle, and his new low calorie food gives him gas. Between his nervousness and the cat’s bad attitude, it was a little uncomfortable in that closet.


This tornado season has been so active I’ve lost count of how many times we’ve taken cover during tornado warnings. This is tornado country, so we’re somewhat used to them, but the twisters have been particularly deadly this spring, and we’re more cautious than usual. We’ve actually dodged a bullet more than once. The tornados that roared through Alabama and Mississippi recently were part of a system that hit here first. Fortunately for us (unfortunately for them), the storms built up steam after they came through here. Last night’s system was the one that killed people in Oklahoma and tried to take a second swing at poor Joplin, Missouri. God bless the people of Joplin. It just breaks my heart to read the stories about that town. We had some minor damage around these parts last night but nothing compared to what’s taken place in other parts of the Midwest in recent days.

This region has had its share of damage in the past. In 2003, a twister killed one person and destroyed several homes in the area near where I grew up. My aunt and uncle were camping at the time and rode out the storm in a concrete bath house. They went home to find that home was still standing but Mother Nature had rearranged all of their rooms. Others lost everything. I was working at the television station at the time, and it was a scary night because the tornado went right over the station.

Last night wasn’t too scary, but there was a time when the roaring wind stopped, it suddenly got eerily quiet and the dog and cat got fidgety. My head was saying, “Stay calm.” My heart was screaming, “I’m comin’ to join ya’ Elizabeth!” The wind started howling again, and I figured if it was going to blow the roof off that would be the moment. It wasn’t. It passed on pretty quickly after that, but on the whole we spent about 45 minutes in the closet. Hubby spent about ten minutes in there. He’s one of those crazy folks who likes to stand at the back door and watch it coming. That drives me INSANE. The man will NOT take cover. One time when he was mowing the yard, I tried to wave him into the house during a tornado warning, and he kept mowing. I finally shouted, “Fine! Let your arse get blown away,” stomped into the house and hid in the bathtub with Teen Angel. And proceeded to worry about his hind end for the next fifteen minutes. Last night she and I were sitting in the floor of the closet listening to the warning sirens wail, when all of a sudden he popped into the closet with big eyes and said, “Funnel cloud in Farley,” which is close to our neighborhood. Five minutes later, he was back to his post by the back door. And I was wishing for my hard hat from work.

Time in the closet is like a forced time-out. It makes you stop and sit. And think about things. While I was in there, I made a partial grocery list in my head, composed a graduation note to Teen Angel, made a to-do list for work and mulled over my stalled half marathon training program. And wondered why we can’t seem to keep a working flashlight in our house. We are flashlight challenged. I don’t know why. We have a dozen flashlights and none of them works entirely right. We need a battery operated TV, too. Since we have satellite TV we get weather warnings right up until the storms smacks our neighborhood, and then it goes out right when we need it most. We keep the weather radio going, but it isn’t as detailed as the TV meteorologists who are doing their best to whip us into a frenzy over bulging fronts and cloud rotation and the like. I will update our little hiding place a little since we still have a few weeks in the storm season, and if the trend continues we will likely be sitting in there a few more times. We’re not nearly as prepared as we need to be. I’m thinking we need some reading material in there, a few cushions and some Febreeze. Seriously, dog, you gotta do something about those glands.

Hunkered Down

Right about now I'd normally be typing a new blog post, but tonight we are anxiously watching the skies for severe weather.  The system that beat up on Joplin, Missoui is now moving through this area, and while I'm not normally spooked by storms, my meterologist friends are telling me this could be the worst system we've dealt with in years.  I've lost count of how many times we've had to shelter in our closet this spring.  Frankly, the weather this year is WEARING me OUT.  Stay low, friends as this storm cuts a path through the Midwest.

Lifestyles of the Waxy and Famous

One of the things we did while in New York that was a blast was Madame Tussaude’s Wax Museum near Times Square. Because we were on a school trip, we followed a preset itinerary and did things as a group for the most part. Hubby and I had no interest in the wax museum because we figured it would be one of those overpriced tourist attractions that leaves you feeling ripped off. (This means you, Gatlinburg strip.) We skipped that stop and piddled around in Times Square. When we all met up for dinner though, everyone was raving about how much fun they’d had in the wax museum. The admission was already covered in our New York Pass, so Hubby and I figured we had nothing to lose and decided to give it a try during the extra hour we had before our Broadway show. Ooh, am I glad we did. What we hadn’t realized is that the museum is interactive…in an intimate way.


Here’s the thing. You get to touch the wax figures. And pose with them. And take your picture with them. Get it? Pose and take pictures. Oh, yeah. And pose we did. Even Hubby got into it, and trust me, he has NONE of the hammin’ it up in public gene. Zip. Zero. As in he likes to stand in the back and try to go unnoticed. Unlike a couple of other Hula-gen’s I won’t name. But there he was, right next to his hero.

And a few other famous folks.

Pardon me, mam, do you have any grey Poupon?

We had a large time. With George.

And Johnny.

And Elton.

And Tina.

By the way, we’ll be working on Hubby’s photography skills in the coming weeks. To the right, babe. The RIGHT.

There were famous athletes.

Teen Angel had a little run-in with Mick Jagger.

But she was gaga with Gaga, as was I.

And she met the Back In Synch Boys.

There was P Diddy. Or Puff Daddy. Or Stay Puff. Or Q-Tip or whatever his name is now.

And she made friends with the Donald’s hair.

I had another chance to kick up my heels. Warning! Gratuitous Rockette picture.

Oh, high school drill team, how I miss you so.

I have several more, but I’ll stop here. I left out the one of Teen Angel fondling Derek Jeter’s backside since I’d like for her to get a JOB after college, and we don’t need THAT floating around the World Wide Web.

The really funny thing was that even though Teen Angel went through the museum at a different time, she came away with pictures of her with Elton, Gaga and George in almost exactly the same pose as me. She’s becoming her mother and she doesn’t even know it. Sigh. My work is done.