Tag Archive | humor

Fisher’s Of Men – or – How I Met My Husband.

Jan16

People frequently ask about how I met my husband. I always tell them “Bible Roulette.” Have you ever played Bible Roulette? It’s like playing with a Magic 8 Ball only you use a bible instead.

Oh God, what should I do?

Flip flip point.

“Judas went and hung himself.”

Hunh? No really God, what should I do about this situation.

Flip Flip Point

“Go thou and do likewise.”

See what I mean? Bibles and Magic Eight Balls are not the same thing. But I did not know that when I was 21. I thought I knew everything by then, kinda like today only I do know not to play Bible Roulette anymore.

I’m living with my mom in Redford Michigan working nights for a telecommunications company when my boyfriend decides to dump with the classic line of “It’s not me, it’s you.”

I am crushed.

Inconsolable even.

Drunk on Hagen Daz ice cream and dreams of what could have been (AKA self-pity in over drive), I am a horrible mess. In a moment of what I can only call pure desperation, I reach for my Bible and start talking to God.

Now, when asked about my faith, I do not tell people I’m a protestant or a Lutheran,even though I presently attend a Lutheran Church, I simply say I am a Christian. At least, I consider myself a Christian. Some of you may agree with that assessment, some of you may not. That’s okay. Fortunately we do not get to decide who is and isn’t a Christian. I think that’s great because frankly, I’m a horrible judge of character and I may very well say someone isn’t when indeed they are.

I was not raised in the church. I never went to Sunday School, or Vacation Bible School, or church camp or even sang in the Children’s Christmas Program. I only got to attend church when I was visiting my Grandmother in Buffalo NY. I did however have an awesome prayer life and because of my Godmother, I own a Bible. She told me that the bible held every answer I could ever need. It didn’t help much with Algebra II, but maybe this time it would help. You never know right?

And so I start my pitiful requests.

He Dumped me! Can you believe he dumped me? I’ll never get married. My life is ruined. What am I going to do God?

Flip, Flip, Point.

I looked down to see where my finger had landed.

“Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” (Matthew 4:19 for you purists)

Fishers of Men? Really God? Now we’re cooking with gas. Who am I to argue with God? It was right there in the magic 8 ball. I mean the bible. “Fishers of Men.” BOOYAH!

I put down my bible went to the mall and bought myself the BEST fishing wardrobe minimum wage can buy. You know, little black dress, red lipstick and fish net stockings. Shortly after that I packed up my little bag of sorrows, left Redford and moved to Chicago where I spent the next few years participating in the catch-and-release program.

Not to be confused with the prison release program, which is something entirely different.

Okay, if I’m counting the guy I met in front of the Sears Tower that one Spring, not really.

But there you are.

One day I meet this really cute guy at work who gets me to go out with him by hawking the fact he plays guitar in a rock band. We’d only gone out a couple of times when he calls to tell me he wants to take me to church on our next date.

I thought he was speaking figuratively and dressed accordingly.

Do you know he took me to church?

For real?

Wow, was I popular.

It is the middle of December in Chicago, 20 below zero,  and I am dressed for a different kind of church if you know what I mean. I started sweating like it was the middle of July. I did meet the pastor. He was wearing a dress. And I met the womans auxiliary. They call themselves “The Church Basement Ladies.” I am not making that up. I asked them what they do and they said they mostly sew quilts and cook supper for Jesus.

Now I was not raised in the church but even I know it’s been at least 2,000 years since Jesus walked the earth so either these ladies were pulling my leg, or they’ve held up remarkably well.

Fishers of men hunh?

I don’t know about that.

But I do know that this guitar player and I celebrate 22 years of marriage this year. Not bad for a magic 8 ball. I mean a Bible.

And that, in a nutshell is how I met my husband.

Best,

Deana

Friday Funny – I’m not a morning person

Jan6

Rumor has it there are people who wake up, shower, and even dress before drinking coffee. There are even people who don’t drink coffee at all, or so I’m told. I do not trust people like that.  I need a cup of coffee just to turn on the coffee maker. I might have a problem. It took me three cups of coffee just to work up the wherewithal to call my doctor this morning just to tell them I cannot make my appointment. THE appointment that I set four months ago because I really need to talk to him about something and don’t want to wait until my annual in September. And I had to cancel. Why? Because our new dog ate my glasses and I cannot drive without them. Three cups of coffee did not make me feel any less of a moron about calling. Just sayin’.

I know that I made several neurotic references to my premeditative state of possibly bailing on this appointment anyway, but I really was planning on going. I like him. More or less. As far as doctors go anyway. I only get neurotic because I have to deal with so many different doctors all at once. I miss the day when I could go to one doctor for everything. Not anymore. Everyone is specialized now. Add to that, I’m a caretaker of many people. Between Mom’s COPD (She’s in her last year probably), Dillon’s Epilepsy, and my In-Laws cancer (they’ve now passed), I’ve logged a few thousand hours in the doctor’s office. Therefore, I tend to avoid them even if it’s for me. I have made a committment to improve on that. Caretakers absolutely suck at taking care of themselves, don’t we.

The laugh is on me though. Instead of seeing one doctor, I now get to go see the eye doctor instead and get my glasses replaced. (it’s only two miles away) Probably should pick up a second pair to hide in my bra drawer just in case the puppy eats those as well. I live in a houseful of men — want to hide something you don’t want them to see? Put it in your bra drawer. Works every time. Not even a child dying to know what you got him for Christmas will look in there.

Hope you guys are having a great friday. I’ve got U2 on the stereo and I’m organizing the new space. Looking forward to the rest of the month.

 

Be Well

Be Happy

and don’t forget to Breathe.

Best,

Deana

Flying Monkeys

Sep22

Does anyone remember that old saying, “Don’t make me call my flying monkeys!” ? Yeah, it’s been that kind of week. My husband is out-of-town and someone told the appliances, the dogs, and my hormones. If something isn’t breaking and I’m not hot flashing in the middle of the night, the dogs are waking me up at 3 am to tell me he isn’t home and we need to search for him NOW. Isn’t that nice of them.

I’m so sleep deprived that it’s quickly becoming one of those people are still alive because I couldn’t afford a hit man kind of weeks. Really and truly. Kinda.

From a medical perspective, I’m really not sure what my favorite part of the week was, getting the girls squished or having the angiogram. Actually I already know — the angiogram has better drugs. Even without the caffeine and nicotine, it still took three doses of  whatever it was they use plus one does of nitroglycerin to get my heart rate to 50. I only started at 70. I blacked out at some point which was entirely pleasant really. The feeling like I just wet myself sensation that comes from the dye – was not pleasant however. Such is life.

Why all the unpleasantries? Because I had an unplanned hysterectomy last year. I’d known about the mass for a while, but it wasn’t a good time — any mom’s out there know how that is? It’s never a good time for mom to go down. So I decided to deal with it later. Later turned out to be Easter Sunday when my husband rushed me to the hospital. (The mass was benign btw)

I missed out on a really awesome U2 concert because of that side trip. SO… I promised to take better care of myself going forward. I’m doing a good job actually — and while it seems like I’m going through a lot of tests right now, they are for my own good.

And that in a nutshell is why I haven’t posted this week. That plus I’m in charge of decorating for a fall fest at church on Saturday and I’ve been creating center pieces to my heart’s content this week.

I’ll be back on Monday - and in the mean time I think I will break out my Flying Monkey — it’s not the best Merlot in the world, but it works.

Have a great weekend you guys.

New Slogans For Delta Airlines

Aug19

Travel isn’t what it used to be. Sadly, neither is Delta. A friend of mine found himself stranded in Atlanta airport recently and numerous delays (not weather related) and cancelled flights, caused him to miss his first show in over 20 years.

My husband travels every month for his job and won’t fly Delta either unless he has no other choice.

You might say we’ve been there and done that as well. Being stranded for hours on end is not fun.

If you have ever been left hanging by your toes in a Delta terminal,  – this post is for you. Enjoy.

 

It is the Silliest Things Really.

Jan18

Have you ever had days where you just feel touched by God? I don’t have them often, but when the creator of the universe wants to touch me – he does it with such flourish that I cannot help but know he see me. I’ll give you an example. I like to spend time in my gardens, watching butterflies and birds make their way. I’ve come to appreciate the beauty of Oklahoma since moving here 18 years ago. The sky just goes on forever and most days I can see a hawk or an eagle if I’m lucky. The clouds are large and white and look like cotton candy just waiting for me to reach out and touch them.

I feel closest to God when I’m in my gardens. It’s there that I spend most of my time talking to him. I was having a particularly rough go at it one day and was spending a large amount of time just pouring my heart out. Feeling that I was being sucked down into a negative state of mind, I decided to start thanking him for the blessings in my life. I rattled off my family, my friends, the birds and wildlife in my yard. As I looked up to comment on the beauty of the sky I talked about how much I love the expanse, and the clouds. Except that one cloud God, that one looks like a monster’s head, I said and I shivered.

Without warning, the clouds began to shift and the monster head disappeared and became something that looked like a lamb. In a state of total shock I asked out loud, “Is that you God?” and again the clouds shifted and revealed a hand.

Show off.

I giggled for days.

When the creator of the universe wants to dazzle me, he makes it intimate, and he does it with subtle flourish. Why not? He is an artist after all.

I have times and seasons where I really do wonder if I’m doing the right thing, on the right path, or if I’m even seen. I’m really not one of those women who is content to stay behind the scenes and work unnoticed all of the time. Not that every day should be my own private Oscar celebration, but still – sometimes I need to see small snippets; some kind of reassurance that I’m heading in the right direction. Don’t we all?

If you cannot relate to that statement, please let me come check your pulse. Everyone needs those small moments of acknowledgment or thanks at least once in a while and if you don’t – well then I believe you might be lying to me or even to yourself. That or you’ve bought into the lie that not needing affirmation is a sign of strength. It isn’t. It’s a sign of self-reliance and tells me you’ve isolated yourself to such a point that your relationships are dried out. And maybe your own spirit as well. No one is an island. Whether we are capable of admitting it or not, we need each other.

I’ve been second guessing myself lately. This whole going back on stage, learning stand up and improv, auditioning for movies and plays and commercials, and interviewing agents is a scary deal. I’m not a kid anymore. I find the irony of officially joining SAG at 46 years of age both funny and frightening. I’m a mother now, shouldn’t I be doing something more respectable? I caught myself making a plan B. Well if this doesn’t work out, I could always go back to school and become a nurse.

Where does that thought come from? Is it fear? Self Reliance?  The desire or need to hang on to an assured ending?  That’s why I remembered Second City not that long ago. I did the same thing to myself when I was 22. Remember? I chose the safety of a data room and guaranteed income over my dreams. I did the same thing when Ringling Brothers came to town. I had a chance to audtion and I chickened out.

Not that I was wrong to do that, after all I met my husband that year, but still Plan B doesn’t get me where I want. Plan B is always about safety, lack of risk and is loaded with fear based choices. Plan B doesn’t come close to leading me into being the woman I always wanted to be; Fearless, strong, interdependent, and full of purpose.

I did what I’ve learned to do which is pray and ask God for direction or okay a sign maybe. I can’t tell you what he did, I’d be a little embarrassed actually if you knew. But he did something so closely tied to SC that I cannot help but know that I’m seen and yes, I’m on the right path.

You might say he moved the clouds that were distorting my vision and revealed again the endless sky of possibility.

And you guessed it, I’ve been giggling for days.

 2011 is a new year, ripe with possibility for all of us.

While we have the gift of life, it seems to me the only tragedy is to allow part of us to die – whether it is our spirit, our creativity or our glorious uniqueness. Gilda Radner

REPOST: Epic Fail: On Romance and Marriage

Nov22

Rumor has it, great romances involve planning. Every good relationship book will tell you that you have to plan for time together in order to keep romance in marriage alive and well. What every good relationship book does not tell you is there is a right way, and a wrong way for such planning.

Movies make it look easy. All a woman has to do is show up in his office for a surprise lunch wearing nothing but a fur coat, that sort of thing. The real world? If I did that, my coat would get stuck in the elevator and I’d wind up on his floor with just my shoes. Oh yeah, he’d be surprised alright. Along with the rest of his staff.

Still, I want adventure and I like doing fun things for my husband, but…

I tried to get creative once. It didn’t work.

I found his blackberry one night and decided to write on his calendar. I picked a random date out in the future and posted a lunch meeting for him to “go home and ravish wife.” AKA me.

Did you know that a Corporate issued Blackberry syncs up with corporate calendars?

Me neither.

And apparently, corporate secretaries have access to corporate calendars.

Husbands do not like getting phone calls from their secretary saying “Mr Robinson wants to schedule a lunch meeting with you for Tuesday, but it says here you are supposed to be ravishing your wife at that time. Should I reschedule that appointment or move Mr Robinson to a different date?”

Corporate secretaries are vastly underpaid.

Watching the Bears in Peace

Nov18

I love my Bears.
I love my husband.
I love watching my Bears WITH my husband.
Our oldest is away at college.
 
Our youngest was at work.
We are alone.
On the couch.
Watching the pre-game show.
When the old quarterbacks start talking about Cutler and Thigpen.
I can’t make this up.
One former quarterback to another:
“Thigpen might be third string for Miami, but he’s got a great tight end.”
Seriously, would YOU let a comment like that pass you by?
It gets better.
Another announcer mispronounces the word “version” and says “Every team has a virgin like that.”
My husband has decided that the boys can never move away.

The Roar of Courage

Oct6

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the little voice at the end of the day that says, I’ll try again tomorrow. – Mary Anne Radmacher

I am not much of the roaring lion type — unless I’m dealing with a rebellious teen — don’t ask. Still, I do find new days and new ways of doing something brave.

Take stand-up for instance. Those who’ve been following my blog know that I’ve stepped out of the house and onto the stage. It hasn’t been easy. Truth be told my first few times doing comedy, my fear spoke more loudly than my jokes. Even though I’m afraid, I keep going back. My biggest hurdle facing me right now, is the microphone. I don’t know how to handle it well and therefore I’m intimidated by it.  And yes, Sigmund Freud would have a field day with that.

Jeff, “Touch it.”

 Me, “I don’t want to touch it.”

Jeff, “The Microphone is your friend, Deana.”

Me, “Yeah, well you told me something else was my friend and now we have two sons.”

I was asked to perform recently and it was the first time on stage since my hysterectomy. Nervous would be an understatement.  The mic was “hot” according the host and for me, that spelled trouble. So, I handled my fear the way I handle all fears, I just avoided the mic. And lost a lot of laughs because of it.

Good news is, I still got invited back and will have my chance to try again. Which is a good thing, because I have a show in Yukon at the end of the month.

What about you?

What thing do you get to try again?

From Clown School Drop out to Major Film Star? News at 11.

Aug21

                                                                              

What secret dream do you dream when no one is looking?

I dream about juggling and being a clown in the circus. That’s a nice practical dream to have when you are 45 don’t you think?   Sometimes, I go into my garage and dig out my old polyester scarves and practice juggling them. Just for fun mind you. When no one is home, I will stand there dropping juggling tossing up my colorful scarves. While I watch them float to the ground, I remember what it is like to dream about running away and joining the circus, . Not just any circus mind you, but THE Ringling Brother’s Barnum and Bailey Circus to be exact. Clown College filled my hopes and dreams for many years. I had the chance to audition for it back in 1988 and I chickened out. True story.

The auditions were a cold call in Chicago.  A come as you are – no make up, no costume, no character, just me. I couldn’t do it. I never arrived – I never tried. I failed before I even began.

Deep down in the secret places of my heart I still want to be a clown, just like my hero Emmett Kelly.

Sometimes secret places can be good places and sometimes not. This kind of memory brings joy mixed with regret. 

I studied clowning for a short time under a former Ringling Brothers clown named Bonzo - aka Barry DeChant – he’s long retired by now I’m sure. Barry worked with our class of wannabes and did his best to teach everyone every secret he knew. I would hang on to every word he said and would try to master every last stance, grin, guffaw, and stunt right up until he taught us how to juggle.

Did I tell you I’m dyslexic? Dyslexic people should probably not juggle. Just sayin.

They shouldn’t twirl batons either — I did that in Junior high. Everyone would toss their batons up and to the left. Mine would go up and to the right. I took out more basketball players with my baton during half time than the cheerleaders did all season.

juggling was no different.

Toss Toss Catch Catch became Toss Toss deargodrun!

The class excelled and Barry gave me scarves proclaiming proudly I couldn’t possible hurt anyone with those — he would have been right too, if he hadn’t stuck me next to the flame thrower for our final show. Good thing those flames weren’t real or that would have been really ugly.

I’m too old for clown college but I’m not too old for second chances. I’ve MCed various fundraiser events for several years. I’ve performed comedy during open mic nights and in churches. I even tried to perform at a Christian Comedy Association conference last year for their open mic night — I suffered severe stage fright, but I did it. I’ve traveled and taken classes on speaking and teaching and performing. I’ve narrowed my focus from speaking and teaching to mostly comedy and I have no regrets. I’m actually pretty funny in case you were wondering. 

I don’t want to wake up 20 years from now and find myself in my garage with my microphone tossing out jokes to an invisible audience.

I have an audition today – with a major motion picture filming director. It’s an open call, come as you are, no character, no costume, no experience necessary — it’s just like the one I ran away from in ’88. Only this time, I’m gonna be there.

Wish me luck.