Lazy Blogger

I am lazy, it's true. I have a severe case of laziness when it comes to writing here. Nothing personal, just sometimes telling my golden retriever is so much easier than taking the time to write a blog.

But today, the dog is refusing my phone calls, so you are in luck.

In the past few weeks I have been busy but not like most of you reading this. My busy is the extra stuff you probably do after work, tending to your family and giving blood. To tell you my business might invoke anger in you that might result in hate mail or a nasty fist shake upon seeing me.

I welcome those.

First off I have been making a series of fondant cakes. There are a few shows on cable about cake baking and I am nothing like those people, except that I do yell a lot when my assistant drops a cake or I burn my hand in piping hot sugar...other than that, nothing alike. I also don't have an assistant. My mom has been baking and I have been making my own fondant (which is one part marshmallow one part sugar and all parts sticky).

I have taken my clay skill from making sheep and other figures into edible characters. While ok for now I liken them to my early attempts at clay, good for the moment but where I am now, laughable. Some day my cakes will wow you, for now they might just push you over the line if you are border diabetic.

In comedy news, I am on the road again after an almost 2 month break. It was a great relief after my show in Georgia last week to breath a sigh of relief and now the funny didn't leave. It really was just like riding a bike, without a helmet, down a hill, as a rabid dog chases you. In short, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Of course it's been almost 6 months since my brush with a horrible disease so why not pick that up again. As you might now I am a lump factory. I grow non-cancerous tumors faster that it takes most people to fast forward through a dvr'd commercial during Lost. That was an awesome analogy, back pat.

So to put an end to this every 6 months or when ever a medical person looks at me having a scare my surgeon suggested seeing an oncologist. That appointment was Tuesday and I learned some things. Because of my family and personal history I am at a higher risk for breast cancer than the average bear. And with a new rascal lump raising two doctors suspicions enough to order an MRI (that of course the insurance company denies on the first round because of my age) I was again reminded that it’s good to be living right now. At times I thought it would be easier just for them to find something and get it over and out of the way. But with some experience, I find not having anything sure is a good plan. Although this is quite the pain in the rear to every few months have to worry and go through tests and waiting, it’s a good pain and I’m blessed. I’m quite fortunate to have access to the doctors and their tests to screen anything that looks funky. I have the advantage even to know that I am at a high risk. There are drugs available for preventative measures that would cut my risk of breast cancer in the next 5 years by over 50%. Of course I’d grow a unicorn horn out of my forehead, but I guess you have to take the good with the bad. Holding pattern for now, just like planes over Newark, in the end, a little annoyance but no real harm done.

As a sign of charity I should call the insurance company and warn them what happens when I unleash my secret weapon, aka my mom. They think Obama is out to get them, they haven’t seen anything yet!

And, the Olympics have been on TV. That’s something that has taken a lot of my time. Really, not so much in the last week though as my Olympic fever broke and I am somewhat over curling. Curling was the sport that I believed could have united all nations and possible restored peace to this world. But then I watched it on my last flight for more than 3 hours and it just made me want to hit and punch. So much that I was detained thus impeding my opportunity to blog.

Amen.

It's Baaaaaaack!

Kick Your Ash Wednesday.

Funeral Food for Thought

I just got back from my third funeral in 2 weeks. It's not that there has been a great outbreak of swine flu or a gang of axe wielding clowns who were released from a mental ward went on a killing spree.

The truth of the matter is a majority of my friends are over 60, not that being over 60 is a straight shot to the grave. I know, as do you, when Jesus has your room ready, you go no matter the age. But statistically the odds are not in my favor for long lasting friendships with most of my buds. Of course after attending a funeral it makes you think. So after three funerals I have been thinking a lot. Surprisingly I wasn't thinking I need younger friends to avoid these funerals. To tell you the truth I like funerals.

Let me specify, I like some funerals more than others.

First of all, in general, funerals don't cost me any money. When your friend dies, you don't have to buy any presents. They aren't registered anywhere. But if your friend marries or gives birth, you are in for hundreds of dollars buying presents, outfits, plane tickets, shotguns, etc.

What makes a good funeral for me? A quick answer would be, a funeral that doesn’t star me.

The long version is, a good funeral is when, even if a tragic and untimely death, it's a reminder that the person who died knew where they were going. I like funerals that the deceased helped plan. Those are the best! That way, you can’t complain about the song choice…

Funerals are a great reminder that we will all exit this earth one day. Funerals make me think how creative God is. Wouldn't that be horrible if there was only one way to go? And it was the same age for everyone? Boring. God gives us a bit of variety, no a lot of variety on how we exit.

We have thousands of ways of leaving. You can go kicking and screaming, while taking a nap, crossing the street, getting out of the bath tub, in a hail of gun fire, kicking a ball, plugging in the toaster, a horrible disease, being eaten by your cat, the list is endless.

Here’s hoping when Jesus calls you home, you go right away and don’t wait for Him to yell your first, middle and last name.