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Monday, December 03, 2012

The World's Going to End December 21st, and I'm kinda looking forward to it...

So the Mayans are going to get it right, where all the other idiots have failed...December 21st is definately going to be the very last day on earth...and I believe it, because, well, it's the Mayans...and their name sounds so official...it's not like the Unitarians are predicting it, or God forbid the Lutherans, although if I get the chance, I'd love to go to one more Lutheran pot-luck before the big end of the universe thingy...problem is the best place for Lutheran pot-lucks are funerals, and with my luck, there will be one scheduled on the 22nd, which, unfortunately I won't be around because, c'mon, say it with me...December 21st is going to suck...

Now forgive me for not keeping track of exactly how it's all going down...massive volcano explosions, alien invasions, combination missile launch/zombie attack ...in my previous life as a radio DJ, I would have had all the skinnies on the big 12/21, and would have shared each and every grizzly detail with you, in between the weather and an old George Strait song, but something weird happened to me the day I lost my job...I no longer gave a damn...so sure, December 21st is going to be the last day on earth, but you know what, it's also the shortest daylight of the year, it's winter here in Wisconsin so it'll be freakin' cold, so odds are I'll be napping when it happens...

There's a plus side to all this and being the cheerful upbeat person that I am I'm more then glad to share this with you...all the worry and hassle of buying the perfect Christmas gift for someone...gone...think about this...you can tell the one you love most that you are getting them the most awesome, most wonderful gift in the world...and then December 21st comes and your like, "opps, sorry, it's a Mayan thing..." Sure they'll be disappointed, but hey, it's December 21st so they'll have bigger fish to fry...and they'll never suspect you blew the gift money on a manicure and pedi...and what the heck...highlights at the local mall...

Oh well, what can you do...the Mayans predicted it, so there's nothing I can do about it...except check out the obits in the local paper...man, I'm really craving a Lutheran pot-luck.

Cindy Huber

I Started Out Writing About Christmas Lights...

I started this post around 5:30p tonight...it was going to be about how the unusually warm December weather apparently gave everyone the same idea..."let's put up Christmas lights!" That was at 5:30p. But when you're married to a funeral director whose "on call" on Sunday night, well, plans can change pretty quick.

It was a quarter to six and I was still stuck on the first line of my post..."Who puts up Christmas lights in 60 degree weather?" The phone rang and it was a death call. Sometime earlier in the afternoon, a lady around my age had collapsed at her home. The paramedics had worked on her for a full hour, but she couldn't be saved. Now normally in Milwaukee, if your under a certain age and you collapse, you earn an automatic trip downtown to see the medical examiner, but in this woman's case, she had been under hospice care at one point...although she wasn't at the time of her death. I'm pretty familiar with that scenario...my mom and I have had several discussions about her going on hospice, and several weeks ago, they did come out to visit my mom. She has COPD, Pulmonary fibrosis, and her kidneys are failing. She has been in the hospital several times this year. She's been in enough times that I can tell you what day they serve the rotissarie chicken...and that you're going to need to salt it...

But my mom turned down hospice for now. And I can understand why. My mom gets pneumonia like some people get colds, but when my mom gets it, it's a trip to the ER, and usually a three day hospital stay. My mom can't take oral antibiotics, or at least the strong ones she needs now, they make her throw-up. So she needs her antibiotics through an IV...but for hospice, antibiotics through an IV is considered "agressive." And they wouldn't allow that if she was in hospice. And to my mom, the thought of choking from pneumonia, is scarier then the thought of having no help as she struggles at home. Now don't get me wrong, she does have my dad, my 17 year old niece, and the neighbors, but she has me everytime she calls and says she doesn't "feel good."

The last time she didn't "feel good" I immediately got in the car and drove 6 and a half hours to Iowa...I took Highway 18 through the Mississippi River Valley because there's an incredible pizza joint just over the bridge from Wisconsin...in Monona, it's called TJ's and it's worth all the speed traps that line the highway between Madison and the Mississippi...and because GPS said that it's quicker then taking I-90 through Minnesota. It's not. There's no stoplights or signs on I-90...and you can drive 80...opps...70...OK, I only drive 9 over, but that's only if I'm following the trucks...the reason I only do 9 over...one of my radio listeners use to be a sheriff in Wisconsin....he had a saying, "9 your fine, 10 you're mine." I haven't driven 10 over since. Back to my mom, she seemed fine albeit a little tired. But six hours later all hell broke lose, so I rushed her to emergency where they put her in ICU for a couple of days. When she got out they sent over nurses who came in a couple of times a week for three weeks. The nurses made sure my mom was taking the pills she was suppose to and doing her breathing treatments and such. Then when my mom is considered "stable," medicare stops covering them, and my mom's health slowly starts to slide downhill again. And the hospice talk starts all over again.

At a quarter to six, my husband thought he might need my help for this "death call." This woman was at home, on the floor, and my husband wanted to make sure he had enough help to get her out of there. We went over to the funeral home to get the van, and when we drove over to her house...her Christmas lights were on.

Cindy Huber

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Your dog's inside with a bottle of Pinot Noir...

It was a sad couple hours tonight...I was just taking a quick nap (it's cold, it's dark, I need a nap just to get through the rest of the night) when my daughter knocked on the door...the neighbors were here and were crying...they had just come home and found their dog had died in front of the back door of the kitchen...

There are very few things that can wake me up instantly out of a nap, but that's one of them. Their beautiful dog Ice, was as striking as her name suggested...she was a husky rescue, with ice cold blue eyes, if she had been human she would've been Claudia Schiffer. She had a heart as big as her body, and I had been dreading this moment ever since she was diagnosed with diabetes two weeks ago. My neighbor was giving her insulin shots twice a day, but she continued to lose weight...but her death was still unexpected, she had appeared fine this morning, although my neighbor had mentioned, Ice had come up stairs last night to wake her up, but didn't want anything. That was the only unusual thing that happened in the last 24 hours.

It was heartbreaking to think that my neighbor and her young daughter had their beloved pet laying dead at their home, certainly, they didn't want to go back by themselves and who could blame them. We were lucky. My husband is a mortician. If there is one thing that doesn't spook him, it's death. My husband immediately took charge and went over to their house with the three of us sobbing behind him. The first thing my husband did was cover Ice with a blanket. And then he extended his sympathy. My neighbor worried that her dog might've suffered, my husband was pretty matter of fact...he normally is with animals...he was never raised with pets, and would probably never own a pet if he wasn't married to a crazy pet lover.
But he's learned to adapt. And wouldn't you know it, all the dogs in the house prefer him to me...But back to my neighbor..."Do you think Ice suffered," she asked. "Nope," said my husband, the rigor mortis is pretty set, she's been dead most of the day..." Yep. My husband has a way with words.

This past summer I had to put my mom's beloved pet down. It was brutal. Just the simple act of knowing, this is the last night this dog is ever going to have, the last breakfast...then you call the dog over, put a leash on him and drive him to the vet...and the dog does one of two things, he's excited because he's getting a car ride, or he's freaked out, because he's getting a car ride. My mom's dog was freaked out. You cry all the way to the vet. The receptionist say's "Hi, can I help you" and you say "I'm the one who called earlier about the dog..." Your sobbing like a baby, they put you in a room and well, I don't need to tell you the rest...it's a very peaceful death for the dog, well, except for all the wailing, and then you make the toughest decision; group cremation, or private, or do you want to bring the dog home for burial...you pay the bill...and, if you're me, notice that one of the vets kids is selling candy bars for school and buy about 5 bucks worth, and have them all eaten on the ride home.

Some people believe animals have no souls, I am not one of those people.
My whole family is Baptist because of ONE animal lover...no lie...my parents never went to church and then one day our dog died...that next Monday a couple of Jehovah Witnesses came to the door and my heartbroken father asked them "Do dogs go to heaven" in which they replied (something to the effect of) blah blah blah NO...to which my dad kicked them out of the house with "I'm not going anywhere where dogs aren't allowed"...
THE VERY NEXT WEEK...a baptist Sunday school teacher showed up at the door to which my dad asked the very same question..."Do dogs go to heaven" and he said "of course dogs go to heaven, in the bible it says that in heaven the lion will lay down with the lamb" (and not get eaten)...the VERY NEXT SUNDAY...my dad was in the baptist church...

I have a very simple belief when it comes to what happens to animals after death, and it's a combination of the bible and Actor Liam Neeson...from the bible, it's the bible verse (Matthew 10:29) that mentions how "not one sparrow falls to the ground without God knowing about it...it gives me goosebumps just thinking about it...a tiny bird dies-unnoticed to you or I, but God knows...followed by Liam Neeson's answer to one of the last questions from the TV show 'Inside the Actor's Studio' when he was asked what he hoped was one of the first things he'd hear when he entered the Pearly Gates..."You're wife's inside with a big chilled bottle of Pinot Noir.

When I pass from this earth, I truly hope I hear, your dog's inside with a big chilled bottle of Pinot Noir, I know I'll truly be in heaven...



Thursday, November 22, 2012



Thanksgiving 2012...My son and daughter...and me...(and yes, I'm sober!)

(I almost feel like Karen Carpenter should be in the background singing)...Thanksgiving...it's not just a simple holiday with turkey and stuffing anymore...now it's the kick off to the CHRISTMAS SEASON...kind of like the week leading up to Superbowl...except it's all about standing in line at Walmart at 8pm on Thanksgiving night so you can shop for the perfect gift for the perfect price...

Whatever happened to enjoying the turkey hangover as a family...sprawled all over the couch and floor as some football game you don't care about plays on the tube...and ever so often when someone drags themselves out to the kitchen to sneak another piece of turkey you yell out "bring me back some pie," or "another glass of wine," or "can you hand me the remote control so I can turn the tube to something other then this stupid foot ball game?"

Not today. Oh sure, we had the delicious turkey, and pumpkin pie but the mood was different...I've actually noticed it the last couple of years...It was all talk about sales, and shopping and estimating the best time to stand in line before the mall doors open...It really depressed me in a way...I remember the old days when we use to gather around the Thanksgiving table and talk about...um...let's see...um...what the heck DID we talk about???

Happy Thanksgiving to you,

Cindy Huber





Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I'll Never Be as Rich as I am right now...the night before the big Iowa trip



I've always envied people who live near their parents...I'd hear them gripe and complain and I'd think..."wouldn't that be cool to live close to your parents so you could see them whenever you want - wouldn't that be a luxury instead of maybe a week out of a year and then again when there's a funeral to attend?" Tomorrow I load up the kids and head out to Iowa...a place where I use to joke "it's not the end of the world but you can see it from there"...the big thing in the summer is to sit on my brothers roof and watch the storms roll in...I try to time the vacation so we get at least one tornado while we're there...

But lately the trips to Iowa have taken a different tone...my mom's been in the hospital seven different times this year...and every time I thought this was going to be the last time...


So when I go to Iowa I treasure every moment with them...and thinking about how things change over the years...Last year I put Skype on my parents computer...the hard sell is trying to get my mom and dad to use it...honestly, I have to beg them just to open the laptop...



Me: Just OPEN the computer...just DO IT! It's already on...just click the button that says answer with video...that's ALL YOU HAVE TO DO...just do it...

My DAD: Skype is spooky.

Really.

My mom says she doesn't want to be on skype because she feels like she needs to fix herself up before she goes on camera.

Me: It's just me...seriously..."hey, you look kinda pale, are you taking care of yourself mom?

Perhaps that's what she's talking about.

But get this...My mom use to talk my ear off for an hour, the phone would ring and I'd think "oh boy, I'm gonna be on this phone forever"...and my mom's favorite subject this time of the year is when the sun sets...this particular conversation usually starts about December 20th, the day before the shortest daylight of the year, where mom notes that after the 21st...daylight will start to swing the other way, and every night the conversation would start out, "today the sun set at 4:22p but tomorrow it'll set at 4:20p so we're going to gain another 2 minutes"...but I've also noticed in the last couple of years as my mom struggles with breathing it's changed...after 10 minutes my mom wants off the phone, and I'm egging her on, "so what time does the sun set this afternoon?"

Every spring my mom and I use to visit the graves of my grandparents to lay flowers and point out where she and dad are going to be buried, but the last couple of years it's started to feel real...and I find myself thinking "oh my God, someday it's going to be my turn to bring my daughter here to lay flowers" and honestly, I don't think I'm ready for it, and time which use to move so slowly in Iowa is now suddenly moving too fast for me...but you know what?

Tomorrow is a time for celebration because I'm going to go home and see my parent's and even if I win the lottery someday...I will never be as rich as I am now, at this moment.

Cindy Huber



Monday, November 19, 2012

How I Had a Chance to make a killing selling Twinkies on Ebay, but ended up eating them all.

I wish I could tell you that I had a preminition something like this was going to happen to Twinkies, so I went out and bought boxes of the stuff and made a killing on Ebay...but if I had had any decent pyschic ability I would've chosen any other career then radio...something that might've been profitable...like tornado chasing.

Nope. This past Wednesday morning my husband mentioned that Hostess was threatening to shut down...this nugget of information jogged my memory...the part of my brain that knew I was suppose to do something on Wednesday...

Husband: Hostess is threatening to shut down...

Me: Oh that's right, I have to buy treats for the youth group bible meeting tonight...I think I'll buy Twinkies! (And Suzy Q's and oh yes, I bought some Ding Dongs too)...

I ended up buying about 40 bucks...I kept a couple of boxes for myself...I had half a box eaten by 2 pm...the other half of the box I offered to everyone I saw at work...most everyone turned me down...here's what they told me..."I use to eat Twinkies, but they changed something, the cream has an after taste..." In retrospect, they did...but when you mix Twinkies and Diet Coke together, it's not that noticable.

Here's the best part...when I brought all those boxes of Twinkies, Suzy Q's and Ding Dongs to the youth group, the kid taking my treats actually wrinkled his nose when he saw what I brought...

The Kid: "Normally people bring baked goods..."

Me: "These are baked..."

The Kid: "No, what I meant is people bake things and bring them..."

Me: "You've never eaten at my house have you?"

What do you want to bet that by Friday afternoon this kid was kicking himself, tearing through the house looking for any left-over Twinkies, Suzy Q's or Ding Dongs to sell online..."homebaked my ass..."

Cindy Huber



Learning to Float...




My grandmother passed away six years ago today, and the last thing I ever said to her was "that's a nice tree."

Really.

I saw her three weeks before she passed and I had no idea this would be my last time, ...stupid, isn't it? My grandma was 98 1/2 years old! But have you've ever known anyone that you thought would be around forever, even if common sense dictates otherwise?

Well that was my grandma.

So my last memory of my grandma is her was sitting in her tiny nursing home room-next to a curtain that separated her from her roommate, staring out the window at a beautiful Oak tree and saying to me "Would you like to live like this? Nothing to do but stare out at this tree?"

"That's a nice tree."


My young grandson is wrestling with grief right now, except his grandma (his dad's mom) hasn't died yet, she's been battling breast cancer for several years, but then cancer took a break for a few years. We all forgot about it. Well last year cancer came back...and it's meaner and nastier then ever. She's my age. I wish I had something more comforting to say to my grandson, but I simply don't. No pearls of wisdom, no "it will get better, you'll get over it" because that's not true. My dark Huber sense of humor would advise him to stay away from the subject of tree's...

I guess you can't pick and choose your grief, can you? And grief can be sneaky too...it's weird how it sneaks up when you least expect it, like the Christmas card section at Walgreens when it hits you that you have one less Christmas card to send this year, or the song Amazing Grace at church when it hits you that it was grandmas favorite hymn.

Someone once told me that grieving was a lot like learning to float in a lake. When you first try to lay back on the water you sink...alot...but then, after you hit the bottom a few times you kind of get the hang of it. Once in a while though you get hit by a big wave, and you lose your balance and you sink again, and again...until, you accept that ever so often there's going to be a big wave that maybe you can't handle (like a birthday anniversary or death aniversary), but for the most part, if you just relax, you can float above the water.

Cindy Huber

PS...My grandma was a terrific cook...it's very unfortunate that I didn't inherit that gene from her...although, the last 20 years of her life she ate cabbage every day (since she thought that would help her live to one hundred)...and I'll tell you...I had to bust my butt to find a recipe of hers that didn't include cabbage in it...but I think my grandma--who loved to cook for people and enjoyed sharing recipes--would love it if I kept her memory alive with one of her recipes...This one was featured in her church recipe book in April, 1987...and if you have a grandma coming this holiday season, feel free to use it, just tell her you got it from your friends grandma...I know my grandma would love that.

Pork Chop Noodle Dinner............ Reba Davison
4 pork chops.........................2 C. cooked noodles
1 tsp. salt.........................1 can cream of chicken soup
1 tsp. prepared mustard...... 1 C. water
1 tsp. chopped onion

Brown chops on 1 side; turn and season. Brown side with salt and mustard. Place noodles in buttered casserole. Place pork chops on noodles, brown-side down. Pour soup, water and onion into skillet; stir and heat until blended. Pour over chops. Cover and bake 1/2 hour at 350 degrees, then uncover and bake 1/2 hour til brown.

Cucumber-Pineapple Salad ........Reba Davison

1 pkg. lime jello............. 1 C. Dream Whip
1 C. crushed pineapple.. 1 C. mayonnaise
1 C. cubed cucumber
Add 1 cup boiling water to jello; stir until dissolved (2 minutes). Add 3/4 cup pineapple juice and cold water. Chill until jelly stage. Add pineapple, cucumber, Dream Whip and mayonnaise. Let set.




Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Stop Nagging Me About My Smoking

"Hello father, forgive me, it's been 5 months since my last confession and my daughter and I got into a heated discussion this morning as I was driving her to college and some piece of crap deliberately cut me off...My daughter told me that while she thought it was OK to honk at the moron it was not OK to flip him off...I disagree...I feel that you need to combine the two or it's not as effective...thoughts?"

My daughter...did you just give up smoking?

There is not a day that I don't wake up and miss smoking. I haven't smoked in almost 6 months and everyday when I get up, the first thing I think is, "I would sure like a cigarette, followed closely by, "I wonder who I should choke today?"

I didn't take up smoking until my late 40's...imagine that! So yes, while I lived through the golden years of televison cigarette commercials "Winston taste good like a cigarette should," OR (my personal favorite)"I'd rather fight then switch!" None of these commercials ever influenced my decision to take up smoking. (Although years later I developed a fondness for Camels...the Camel "crush" to be extact, or was it "crunch?" I always said it wrong at Walgreens...you light the cigarette, and then crush the menthol...it made a crunch...granted it wasn't worth the seven bucks I usually spent on a pack of them unless they were on sale...but they were far less calories then the bag of Sour Cream and Onion Lay's potato chips's I've replaced them with...and yes, they make a "crunch" when you crush them...in your mouth)
You know what's really wild, back in the 80's when I worked the overnight shift as a nurse aide in the nursing homes, I had a patient who would always get up around 2 or 3 am, come down to the nurses desk, and I would light his cigarette for him. Then I'd say something like "you really shouldn't smoke...they'll kill you." "Well that's what I'm counting on," he'd reply, "I'm 103!" (He was too)

Then four years ago I got a boss who--outside the job, actually like--but as a boss, let's just say our styles didn't "mesh." He drove me crazy, I seemed to annoy him, and it was just a stressful situation. I read all the "how to get along with your boss" crap advice articles they released on Yahoo...guess what? Nothing worked! I developed painful headaches, and just coming into work set off an anxiety attack, until...are you starting to guess where this is leading? One day I noticed the smokers outside the building, some of them my friends, one of them handed me a cigarette, "God Cindy, you look awful, here, smoke this..." (And no, it wasn't pot, it was one of those Newports cigarettes...you know, the stuff the beginners smoke.) Later, I graduated to Pall Malls, they were cheaper then the Newports, but not as enjoyable as the Camels that came a year later. Sure, I tried other brands over the years, but it's the same kind of brand loyalty you have with other products...say, for example Coke or Pepsi, you either like one, or the other.

My favorite cigarette story comes a few months later, when my boss complained that everytime he met with me for a meeting, I gave him a headache (because I smelled like smoke) Well, now the truth can be told, everytime before I met with him, I'd smoke 2 or 3 cigarettes just so I could return the favor. The meetings with him became much shorter, until one day they became nonexistant. I was laid off. (I know what your thinking, but no, not because of the smoking, they decided to voice trak the afternoon shift, they no longer needed a "live" jock.) My stress headaches ended, but the smoking continued.

My kids and husband started nagging me, but it only made it worse. I really felt bad about how badly I use to nag all the smokers--including my own chain smoking dad--I use to nag him the same way my family eventually nagged me, but I can honestly tell you, their nagging only made me want to smoke more. Look, no one wants to hear this but it's true, smoking relieves stress. Sure, it's gonna kill me eventually, just like someday someone nagging me is going to die...no threats though...but you tell someone something is unsafe for them long enough, it eventually becomes white noise...that is if white noise sounds like blah, blah, blah...

Just recently, the health Nazis recently targeted hot dogs as unsafe for human consumption, arguing that hot dogs should have warning labels on their packaging! And you know how well warning labels work...just look what they've done for cigarettes! Honestly, you could put a warning label on hot dogs that show the "dog" holding a gun while smoking a cigarette, and I'd still be looking for the ketchup and mustard.

Look, the one point I want to make is this...I don't have one. If you see me with a cigarette standing outside puffing away in a blinding snowstorm, resist the urge to say something like "those are going to kill you someday." Because you just don't what mood I might be in...and your day may be sooner then mine.


I'll wrap this up with my dad...my sweet, kind, chain-smoking dad...a few weeks ago I was in the emergency room with my dad when the nurse asked my dad "so how many cigarettes do you smoke?" My dad says "1-3' and the nurse goes "cigarettes?" To which my dad answered "packs...1-3 packs" (a day)..."But it's OK, their filtered..."

The Worst Job I Ever Loved

Six years I was laid-off from my radio job. That was three lay-offs ago. But I'm not sure I'd trade my lay-offs for job security, although don't ask my husband that same question.

Six years ago I marched into a place called (probably not a good idea to say the name) Staffing Agency armed with an absolutely worthless resume and about 2 pounds of ego left... at that time 24 years of radio had left me with ABSOLUTELY NO SKILLS! (With the exception of absolutely worthless trivia that nobody really gives a damn about although I think it's pretty darn awesome that the song that goes "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire" was written in the hot heat of July...for real, cool huh?...As it turns out, that's not a job skill.)

Where was I? At (Not a good idea to say the name) Staffing Agency, and I was there because I heard one of the ladies that ran it, well, she use to listen to my show when I was on another radio station. It turns out that being someone's favorite DJ doesn't qualify you for any job, just like certain actresses still have to take screen tests for roles. And I had to take an assessment test, because, just knowing when Chestnuts Roasting was written doesn't mean you can stack boxes...literally. So I took a typing test, and I'm proud to say that thanks to the "email" era, I still remembered how to type...and it turns out I can type (with errors factored in)...About 40 words a minute. Apparently there's no job offer for someone who types at that speed.

There was still hope, however, because according to (not her name) Vicki they were looking for people to do something called "light industrial" and yes, you have to take a test for that too.

So I took the "light industrial" test and apparently ACED IT!

Here are some of the sample questions:

1. You hear your friend is stealing and you think ;

A. This is ok...

B. Not ok...

C. None of the above...

D. Don't understand the question because I work at Walmart...

Vicki said not to worry, there were no right or wrong answers and there was an assignment opening up, in June...BUT THEN...something else opened up!!! I got called to do a three week assignment at a place (whose name I can't tell you) BUT...there was a recall --opps--product recall, not Governor recall, but because I'm from Wisconsin I can see how you would make that assumption. Anyway, there's a recall going on, and I'm going to be the person making the phone calls...Ok, one of the people..Apparently there were other people who also scored a 40 on a typing test...(except for you Tracy R. if you're reading this....) Anyway, thank God this place was desperate for help because the first day was kind of rough. Well, actually it was the second day...on the first day someone there told somebody else that I use to be a DJ so there was a steady stream of people coming down to look at the "celebrity." That was the first day. On the second day, a comment I made on the first day spread all over the place like wildfire.

Me..."I can't find the file."

My boss..."It's on your desktop."

Me (again)..."I'm looking on my desk and it's not there.."

In my defense, just because I knew how to send an email doesn't mean I knew what desktop meant, although I do now...and thanks to the fact that this place was desperate--it wasn't like today's economy--they kept me on and I eventually learned new words like "copy, paste and fax! I also learned how to "talk electrician..." Here's a sample;

"Sir, the problem is your cable was terminated incorrectly on the heat trace wire!"
I have no idea what I just said, but apparently, this is not good...the electrician on the other end of the line at the nuclear power plant always sounded very upset, but it was 11 bucks an hour which wasn't bad...I could also tell you about the time I "externed" (it's the same as "intern" but externs don't get paid) at a Pulmonary Hypertension clinic, and had to draw someone's blood for the nurse but OPPS...missed the vein...

Oh wait...Is someone playing Christmas music? Chesnuts Roasting on an Open Fire? You know, I know a story for that song... I'll save the missing the vein story for later... ; )


When It's 9 pm Here, It's 6 am in Fallujah


This is my husband's son, my stepson Mark. (He's the one in the middle of our 2007 Christmas photo.)


He survived a tour of Iraq. Twice. And Afghanistan. But when this photo was taken 5 years ago (right around this time -- near Thanksgiving), our smiles were fake.

We knew when Mark joined the Marines that he would more then likely be serving in a foreign country. And he had just told us, shortly before this photo, that he knew he would be going to Iraq. This sounds so ominous, but it's true: as his family, it was like having a sword hanging over your head. You know it's going to drop... but when?

Less then 3 months later, Mark went to Fallujah, Iraq, which is just northeast of Bagdad and nine hours ahead of Milwaukee. When we went to bed at night, we would say a prayer for Mark because we knew he would be waking up... and then, when we woke up, we said another prayer for Mark because we knew he was out there, somewhere, serving his country. It was all we could do for him then.

After the first tour, my stepson told his dad that once they got to Kuwait, they were flown in a helicopter where it was just "so high" but not too high, as the terrorists had rockets they could use to shoot them down, but not "too low" either as the terrorists had shoulder rockets that could also, shoot them down.

My husband and I spent a lot of time on our knees in those days begging God for our son's protection... and today we pray for other parents whose children are serving, just as our son once did... because this year, 5 years after this photo was taken, we know our son will be home for Thanksgiving.


I just want to thank our veterans for their sacrifice, although a simple thanks does not seem enough.



May God bless our children in foreign countries. I just want you to know, my family will be praying for yours.


When Life Gives you lemons...Grab the Vodka!

When life gives you lemons make lemonade...and then, in my case, add vodka to it!



These beautiful ladies were once my classmates and teacher in the Medical Assistant Program at Bryant and Stratton College here in Milwaukee (I'm not in the picture since I'm the one who took the picture). They're all holding an autographed Willie Davis picture that was one of the perks of my former radio career...I worked at a radio station owned by him, and I simply asked him one afternoon shortly before Christmas, "would you mind signing a few autographs for some of my friends?"

"Of course," he said. "How many friends do you have?"

Oh man, poor Willie! But this is how great this man is...he signed each and every one of those autographs and never complained..."I'm sorry what? Who is Willie Davis? Are you kidding me? Only one of the greatest Green Bay Packer defensive end ever!!! And can I tell you something else? Willie personally wrote Love, from Willie Davis, Pro football Hall of Fame, on every single one of them!

And do you want to know the one stupid thing I did at this radio station before I got laid-off? I never asked for an autograph for myself! (I'm slapping myself on the head as I type this...Oh, and Willie's got a new book out called Closing the Gap...just thought I'd mention it)

But the reason I'm bringing up my former classmates is, I was actually going to school after I got laid-off from the radio job before the job at the station owned by the Packer great. That was two radio jobs before this one, the one that I just got laid off from.

Are you having a hard time keeping score? Me too, but not my poor husband, he's the one that tries to figure out how to still make the mortgage payment everytime I come home early (wink, wink, nudge, nudge)...At this last station, my husband use to call me every day--no kidding--every day with the same question..."Hi honey, you still got a job?" Then one day this past September I called him up early..."Hi honey, don't bother calling the request line, I won't be answering it."

But I'm incredibly grateful to this station because rather then cutting me loose, they gave me an option..."We do have a part-time job opening on our Christian AM radio station this January, but we don't want to insult you by offering it to you..."

Are you kidding? Don't you know who you're talking too?

So now I'm learning production and editing on computers with names like Adobe, Saw and Soundforge...a few minutes ago I just got done taping and editing an awesome Pastor from a church on the Northwest side of Milwaukee, and at this moment I am most definately filled with the Spirit, and ready to handle (with God's abundant grace) anything the devil throws at me...now can I get an AMEN?

The only frustrating thing to me is I'm learning production and editing on things I use to know!!! I use to do all this stuff at the radio station that was two radio jobs before this one, the one that I just got laid off from. So I'm actually relearning things that I've totally forgotten...I truly hope it's not like relearning how to ride a bike, because earlier this summer when I climbed on a bike for the first time in about 10 years, I immediately tipped over, scraped my knee, got up and said, "that's it...I'm done with bikes!"

Now where's my vodka, I've got some lemonade to make!


The Poor Loser

Election night was a busy night for a lot of people...

For some people it was a party, a celebration, and then for others like myself, it was empowering and productive...and by productive I mean the most productive and empowering thing I did after the fat lady sang was drinking half a bottle of Lambertino and then spending the next hour reading all my Facebook friends posts on how they were so freakin' happy and how the right guy won blah blah blah, and then deleting them off my FB friends list...

It was truly empowering all right...delete, delete, delete. Not that any of them will notice, until maybe, perhaps, Saturday when they get a "friend request" from me and think to themselves, "wait a minute, I thought we were friends..." Then I'll have to explain that I might've accidently deleted them while waiting for the Ambien to kick in...it could happen, right? I mean, it's easy to do...take a sleeping pill, and then while you're waiting for it to kick in, go on Facebook, check out the Blogher page, and then accidently swing over and delete one of your friends--since 2009--who was celebrating an Obama win with a anti-Romney flame...

"It was an accident...really!" Just like the time I accidently went on Amazon.com and accidently ordered a vacuum cleaner...a vacuum cleaner that "sucked..." as in DID NOT SUCK! It didn't pick anything up, at all! It just showed up one day next to the mailbox, and my husband kept arguing with me, "why would you order a vacuum cleaner you've never heard of in the mail?" I kept arguing with him, "I didn't order this thing" until it dawned on me...opps...Ambien. Now I take a Benedryl...

But I'm not going to pretend last night wasn't hard...I've been laid off twice in Obama's economy, and both times surprisingly, not for "cause." My job depends on business advertising, and as the recession has deepened, the advertising dollars have dropped off. It's the trickle down theory, if you're a DJ on a "niche" format, the bigger stations are going to get the most advertising dollars at the best price, and then it's going to trickle down eventually (if you're lucky) to your station. And if it dries up--say, like the Colorado River moving through a New Mexico farmland--you have a drought...and a budget lay-off.

So I looked at Obama like I looked at my first marriage..."I already know what being married to you has been like for the past few years, and I'm ready to try someone new." One of my friends reached out and tried to comfort me..."he had to get re-elected, there just aren't any other jobs out there..."

Don't I know it.

But there is a silver lining to all this...for the next four years, no more blaming Bush. It's truly Obama's mess now.

Monday, November 05, 2012

I'm Cindy Huber, and I approved this message...

I've been amused by how all the news channels (Fox, CNN, MSNBC) have been covering this election; In this corner, Satan! In the other corner, the anti-Christ!

Seriously, people calm down!!!...

Perhaps this is one of those things they didn't cover in your school, but every four years kids...there is a presidental election...no really! Folks, this really does occur every four years! (You'd be forgiven if you live in Wisconsin and thought the election was every three months...Yes, in Wisconsin there IS an election every three months...it's just not the one for the president, that one is still every four years, unless we have another election in 3 months to change it.)

Four years ago I was seriously annoyed with people. The media was all over the place interviewing people in their 40's and 50's who had never voted until THAT DAY claiming the only reason they were voting now was because they never felt they had a voice before! Wow! Then I was ANGRY! Shame on you people...you've always HAD a voice...you just chose not to use it! (What's that the rock band Rush sings..."if you choose not to decide, you still have made a CHOICE...(I will choose free will! Holy cow, great song, I bet you'll have that ringing in your head the rest of the day, and why not, it's still a great song!)

Whether I'm crazy about the candidates or not...I cast my vote every four years and some years I'm really excited, and some years, not so much. I've also written a candidate's name on the ballet because the man I absolutely respected, (and still do to this day) Ralph Nader, needed my vote, regardless of whether he had a shot or not, because of something he said (back in 1999);

"A vote for someone you don't believe in, is a wasted vote.

(can I get a) Amen!

Plus my vote cancels out my ex-husband! ; )

(Rock on Americans!!!)

I'm Cindy Huber, and I approved this blog.

PS...One last pet peeve...if you still haven't decided on who you're going to vote for inspite of MONTHS AND MONTHS of information, if you are still, seriously that drunk undecided...AND...if you just happen to be in front of me, holding up the line, hogging the booth, with your pencil in your mouth, sucking on it, as you carefully consider--all the crap--you should've taken in consideration--even just the day before, let me make this as clear as I possibly can...I will toss my I voted sticker at your head on your way out!!!

Sunday, November 04, 2012

Thank you for not smoking? Bite Me!

"Hello father, forgive me, it's been 5 months since my last confession and my daughter and I got into a heated discussion this morning as I was driving her to college and some piece of crap deliberately cut me off...My daughter told me that while she thought it was OK to honk at the moron it was not OK to flip him off...I disagree...I feel that you need to combine the two or it's not as effective...thoughts?"

My daughter...did you just give up smoking?


There is not a day that I don't wake up and miss smoking. I haven't smoked in almost 6 months and everyday when I get up, the first thing I think is, "I would sure like a cigarette, followed closely by, "I wonder who I should choke today?"

I didn't take up smoking until my late 40's...imagine that! So yes, while I lived through the golden years of televison cigarette commercials "Winston taste good like a cigarette should," OR (my personal favorite)"I'd rather fight then switch!" None of these commercials ever influenced my decision to take up smoking. (Although years later I developed a fondness for Camels...the Camel "crush" to be extact, or was it "crunch?" I always said it wrong at Walgreens...you light the cigarette, and then crush the menthol...it made a crunch...granted it wasn't worth the seven bucks I usually spent on a pack of them unless they were on sale...but they were far less calories then the bag of Sour Cream and Onion Lay's potato chips's I've replaced them with...and yes, they make a "crunch" when you crush them...in your mouth)

You know what's really wild, back in the 80's when I worked the overnight shift as a nurse aide in the nursing homes, I had a patient who would always get up around 2 or 3 am, come down to the nurses desk, and I would light his cigarette for him. Then I'd say something like "you really shouldn't smoke...they'll kill you." "Well that's what I'm counting on," he'd reply, "I'm 103!" (He was too)

Then four years ago I got a boss who--outside the job, actually like--but as a boss, let's just say our styles didn't "mesh." He drove me crazy, I seemed to annoy him, and it was just a stressful situation. I read all the "how to get along with your boss" crap advice articles they released on Yahoo...guess what? Nothing worked! I developed painful headaches, and just coming into work set off an anxiety attack, until...are you starting to guess where this is leading? One day I noticed the smokers outside the building, some of them my friends, one of them handed me a cigarette, "God Cindy, you look awful, here, smoke this..." (And no, it wasn't pot,it was one of those Newports...you know, the stuff the beginners smoke.) Later, I graduated to Pall Malls, they were cheaper then the Newports, but not as enjoyable as the Camels that came a year later. Sure, I tried other brands over the years, but it's the same kind of brand loyalty you have with other products...say, for example Coke or Pepsi, you either like one, or the other.

My favorite cigarette story comes a few months later, when my boss complained that everytime he met with me for a meeting, I gave him a headache (because I smelled like smoke) Well, now the truth can be told, everytime before I met with him, I'd smoke 2 or 3 cigarettes just so I could return the favor. The meetings with him became much shorter, until one day they became nonexistant. I was laid off. (I know what your thinking, but no, not because of the smoking, they decided to voice trak the afternoon shift, they no longer needed a "live" jock.) My stress headaches ended, but the smoking continued.

My kids and husband started nagging me, but it only made it worse. I really felt bad about how badly I use to nag all the smokers--including my own chain smoking dad--I use to nag him the same way my family eventually nagged me, but I can honestly tell you, their nagging only made me want to smoke more. Look, no one wants to hear this but it's true, smoking relieves stress. Sure, it's gonna kill me eventually, just like someday someone nagging me is going to kill them...no threats though...but you tell someone something is unsafe for them long enough, it eventually becomes white noise...that is if white noise sounds like blah, blah, blah...

Just recently, the health Nazis recently targeted hot dogs as unsafe for human consumption, arguing that hot dogs should have warning labels on their packaging! And you know how well warning labels work...just look what they've done for cigarettes! Honestly, you could put a warning label on hot dogs that show the "dog" holding a gun while smoking a cigarette, and I'd still be looking for the ketchup and mustard.

Look, the one point I want to make is this...I don't have one. If you see me with a cigarette standing outside puffing away in a blinding snowstorm, resist the urge to say something like "those are going to kill you someday." Because you just don't what mood I might be in...and your day may be sooner then mine.

I'll wrap this up with my dad...my sweet, kind, chain-smoking dad...a few weeks ago I was in the emergency room with my dad when the nurse asked my dad "so how many cigarettes do you smoke?" My dad says "1-3' and the nurse goes "cigarettes?" To which my dad answered "packs...1-3 packs" (a day)..."But it's OK, their filtered..."

Thursday, November 01, 2012

My Grandmother's Dash



November, 2006. That was just yesterday to me. Tomorrow I'm driving to Iowa to intercept the hospice people who are coming in to talk to my mother, I'm not so sure my mom should give up her fight yet. My mom, is not so sure. Six years ago this month it was my grandmother's fight. My mom had just put my grandmother, Reba Davison, in a nursing home because my grandmother refused to take her medications...that's right, grandma was off her meds...which these days would qualify as some stupid reality show...TONITE, on MTV...GRANDMA'S OFF HER MEDS...Grandma Reba takes on Hell's Angels at Walgreens while waiting for her XANAX refill with hilarious results...they'd probably air it right after that other cute reality show, Jersey Shore...

Or not. Wrong demographics. But then again...my grandma probably was tough enough to take on the Angels if she had really wanted to...(as long as it didn't interfere with Lawrence Welk on the tube)...My grandma was a fighter. She had to be to survive in her household. She was the eighth child of nine kids (and she outlived them all) and raised in a very poor Quaker household with no car, and at times, no horse. I use to ask my grandmother about the depression but she always told me the same thing, she barely noticed it. She was already so poor, it didn't matter. But she survived the depression, and then married, and was widowed, with two young children. After my grandfather's death, they lost everything, the income, the home they stayed in...so my grandmother went back to work, raised my mom and uncle, and saved enough to send them to college. How did she do that? That's what the IRS wanted to know. They actually audited her a couple of years in a row during the 50's, but I'll tell you how she did it, it was no secret. She worked her butt off, saved every cent she could, and demanded nothing but the best out of her kids. And then, after my mom graduated, my grandmother did something very unusual for women in their 50's in 1962...SHE went to college. It was so unusual for that time that she was actually a front page article in the Mason City, Iowa paper...something to the effect of "old lady goes to college."

After my grandmother became an LPN, she got hired by all of her friends kids to take care of their parents when they couldn't take care of themselves. She was still doing private nursing into her 80's when she was forced into retirement, because all of her friends had passed away. My biggest memory of her during this period was being a passenger of hers in her 1967 Chrysler "boat"...one of those giant gas guzzlers that she eventually only drove to church, except that she drove over lawns and sidewalks to get there (completely oblivious to her screaming neighbors as she HATED wearing her hearing aids). Yep. There she was balancing her 86 year old hind end on TWO Mason City Iowa phone books (hey, it's a small town, you need two) so she could look over the steering wheel and see who she was cutting off..."stupid kids" she would mutter to the 60 year old guys that had to jump out of her way. My dad finally had to sneak into her garage and disable her car so she would stop driving...


My grandma use to tell us grandkids about this one famous actress she had known and occasionally babysat for when she lived in Des Moines by the name of Cloris Leachman. She told us this (whopper?)gem back in the early 70's when Cloris Leachman had just won an Oscar and was in a hit television show called Phylis. We had a hard time believing her, "OUR GRANDMA from Iowa had actually met some one famous?"...but sure enough, one day in the 90's my grandma actually wrote Cloris Leachman a letter and when Cloris did a show in Minneapolis, she actually took my grandma out to dinner and gave her a couple of tickets to her show. This picture of her and Cloris was proudly displayed in her front room 'til right before she died...just so she could show it off with a "I told you so". It's one of the few pictures I have of her with a smile on her face. She was such a no nonsense Quaker, she wasn't the kind of person who would get in touch with her emotions...


Here I'm sobbing like a baby as I type this but I already know how my grandma would handle the death of someone she loved...when her second husband died in 1968 my mother said she could come live with us for a while and grandma said "No." She needed to go home and face her new life without a husband head on...AND SHE DID...She wasn't afraid of giving her opinion and did to just about anyone who crossed her path, the mailman, the neighbors, cops, didn't matter...she was staying for a week with us when my dad once came home very late from work (what I mean by very late; he stopped at the bar) and she complained about how noisy he had been when he came in through the door, to which my dad replied, "that's where I got you Reba, I came in through the window!"



But she mellowed out in her final 10 years and when you came to visit, she made it impossible for you to leave, she'd give you anything she owned just so you would stay a few more minutes, and it got so you couldn't get out of there under an hour...and, I'm SUCH A MORON! REALLY, WHAT WAS MORE IMPORTANT THEN SPENDING SOME TIME WITH MY GRANDMA?! Here she was, in her 90's and I'm watching the clock thinking "here's that same story again"...But you know what? I'd give every last cent I have, just so I could hear her tell it again, right now. After we held her graveside service we went to a little cafe she would have liked and when I went back one more time to her gravesite, she was already buried and there was fresh soil over her casket and just like that, my grandmother was gone.

I was trying to think of a way to honor her, being that the cherry tree I planted in her honor didn't make it, further proof that her green thumb skipped my generation! A wonderful friend emailed me this poem written by the awesome Linda Ellis whose wise words perfectly described the person, that was my grandmother.

I read of a man who stood to speak, at the funeral of a friend. He referred to the dates on her tombstone from the beginning to the end. He noted that first came the date of her birth, and spoke of the following date with tears, but he said what mattered most of all was the dash between those years. For that dash represents all the time that she spent alive on earth, and now only those who loved her, know what that little line is worth. For it matters not, how much we own, the cars, the house, the cash, what matters is how we live and love, and how we spend our dash.
So think about this long and hard, are there things you'd like to change? For you never know how much time is left, that can still be rearranged. If we could just slow down enough, to consider what's true and real, and always try to understand the way other people feel. And be less quick to anger, and show appreciation more, and love the people in our lives, like we've never loved before.
If we treat each other with respect, and more often wear a smile, remembering that this special dash, might only last a little while. So when your eulogy is being read, with your life's actions to rehash, would you be proud of the things they say about how you spent your dash?



I truly hope my grandmother knows how proud I am of her dash.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Always broke on Halloween

What are the odds that I'm always broke around Halloween? Seriously, I'm always broke before Halloween, and with giant bags of candy running about 10 bucks a pack, I hope the trick or treaters don't mind the I.O.U's I'm going to be stuffing in their bags...(or little baggies of the left-over chuck roast I made last night)...Seriously, I make great crockpot chuck roast!!! At least their mom's would have something to eat while the little demons make their rounds.



This is an actual tree in our neighborhood, pretty cool, hey? Obviously, I took this picture a couple of Halloween's ago when it was mild during October...


But a scary tree photo is a cool picture in my book. And the tree is still there, except with no leaves...nope, all the leaves were blown by (what's left of Hurricane Sandy) into my front yard where I'm going to have to rake them, sometime this weekend...unless I luck out, and they blow into my neighbor's yard. If that happens, I'm going to rush out and buy a Powerball ticket--because that will be my lucky day! (Right up there with seeing Bigfoot, and losing 10 pounds...ain't gonna happen but it would be great if it did!)


But at least a couple of my grandkids still trick or treat and Halloween is soooo close I can almost taste the trick or treat candy...that I intend to steal from my kids bags when they're not looking!

(PS...My Crockpot Chuck...The chuck roast can come from anywhere although I buy mine from the Hyvee in Iowa when I'm there visiting my mom...but I use Rupena's seasoning, which is from an old meat market in West Allis, Wisconsin, AWESOME steak seasoning...OR...simply, salt, pepper, and Mrs. Grass soup seasoning...Mrs. Grass rocks and you can find her anywhere except Aldi's...I use ORGANIC carrots or I refuse to use carrots...WHY you ask? Long story, how long to you have? I'll shorten it to say I started using organic carrots after my dad's second cancer, and I found out that carrots are used to grab the impurities from the soul and blah, blah, blah...if you want the longer version give me a call...otherwise, the potatoes, they can come from anywhere...)

Thursday, October 25, 2012

UPDATE: Dancing All the way to the Unemployment Office




Thirty years ago I won a disco dance contest, which totally screwed up my life, because I mistakenly thought...I could dance.

At the time, I really thought I was awesome...but what my mind has chosen to forget over the years, is that it was college, the judges were probably very drunk, and I was only one of two people who entered and I was the female...jiggle, jiggle, jiggle, if you get my drift...and oh(!) it was an awesome prize all right! It was a Journey ALBUM...the one with Wheel in the Sky on it...

I don't need to tell you that winning a disco contest can really screw with your mind at dances, especially wedding dances, because over the years I would be the only one out on the dance floor who was sober! Why? Because I'm a serious dancer darn it!!! See above, I won a Journey album!

Six years ago when I was working at an adult contemporary radio station (What's an adult contemporary?...Think music by Michael Buble, Green Day, a couple of Christina Aguilera tunes and maybe a Carrie Underwood tune--at least one tune anyway--this was long before Katy Perry) I was asked by a cancer charity to dance in one of their "Dancing with the Stars" charity dance contest, and as you might imagine I was flattered and all over that...for about 45 minutes...that was the amount of time my first free lesson with my volunteer dance instructor lasted...(My (poor) professional dance instructor--who for whatever past life karma reasons had been saddled with Milwaukee's equivalent of a Jerry Springer...remember his performance on Dancing with the Stars...Jerry's final dance was compared to the Texas Chainsaw Massacre...and not in a good way. Jerry was a terrible dancer, but was kept in the competition by his legion of (what I can only imagine was sadistic) fans, until he BEGGED them to quit voting for him! My dance instructor spent a huge amount of my lessons telling me he had a bad back and would appreciate it if I just concentrated on a move called "the triple step.") I had a lot of problems with this very basic East Coast Swing move, until my daughter later pointed out to me that "triple," really means "three."

On the night of our big charity dance competition I won the trophy for 6th place, which would've seemed awesome if there had been 7 people in the dance contest...I even got beat by the owner of Klements Sausages who was over 70 years old at the time, and who danced around in a circle with an umbrella! So, as you can imagine, it just destroyed about any credibility I thought I might've had on the dance floor...all those years of wedding dances...all those wedding guests who over the years would tell me "you were really shaking it out there on the dance floor..." Those weren't compliments!!!

So this past summer I was asked by a charity (MargaretAnn's--provides hope and healing to grieving children here in Southwest Wisconsin. They provide free grief support to kids who have suffered the tramatic death of a loved one) to be in their Dancing with "our" Stars Gala at a local Casino. And I decided to do that for two reasons, first, I wanted to help grieving children, and second, because darn-it(!), I had something to prove.

This time I was so serious about dancing that I even went out and bought a DVD of Flashdance and Shall We Dance, (you know, the movie with Jennifer Lopez and Richard Gere...geez it sucked...)

But, I got a great deal--2 for 12 bucks from Amazon and a tub of popcorn, and that is what I did for an entire weekend...I sat in front of the tube watching Jennifer Beals taking it off for the umpteenth time while enjoying a tub of popcorn...I drew one very big conclusion from Jennifer's movie...in no way would stripping anything off, help me win this dance contest.

My new dance instructor was at least 20 years younger then my first dance teacher, and this would've been great except I was now 6 years older then the last time I danced, and at least 30 pounds heavier, so this proved to be a potential liability (think HEADLINE...Out of shape classic country music jock suffers heart attack while practicing the East coast swing..) That's right, the EAST COAST SWING! Why? Because I'm a pack rat. I never throw anything out. And I still had the very expensive East Coast Swing dancing shoes from the last charity dance I did 6 years previous. (Each dance has it's own specific pair of shoes--and you thought you weren't going to learn anything from this blog!) So it didn't matter if I sucked at the East Coast Swing. I have the shoes. They're paid for. I'm doing that dance!

And then a couple of weeks before the charity dance, a lightning bolt out of the blue...I was laid-off...the corporation that owned my radio station decided to flip my station from classic country to electronic dance...(It's a format called "Energy." What is Energy? It's the same damn tune played over and over again by different artists...or at least it sounds like that to me).

I could've quit right there, probably should of...but I'm no quitter! I had a charity to support, I just had 5 previous weeks of dance lessons, AND, I owned East Coast Swing DANCING SHOES! Plus, I figured if something happened, there would be a headline; UNEMPLOYED classic radio jock suffers heart attack during charity dance contest...(notice, they replaced out of shape jock with unemployed!) See? I'm no dummy!


So I did the dance. And you know what? I did much better then six years ago...I got FIFTH PLACE! Seriously. And I raised money for a charity that means a whole lot to me, and really, that was the most important thing anyway. So this Monday, if you're at the unemployment office in Milwaukee, and you're looking around wondering what I look like, well, I'm the one wearing the gold dancing shoes, carrying a 5th place trophy...

I'm sorry, what did you just ask...how many dancers were in this one? Shut-up! ; )




Why Thursday is the BEST day of the week...

You know why Thursday is the BEST day of the week?

With Thursday's, you still have the promise of a weekend, it's kind of like the day before Christmas eve; On Christmas eve, you have the "oh crap, I still haven't done all my shopping and the store is closing, and I'm so screwed..."

Christmas Day it's over, done, nothing more to look forward too...and half the stations stop playing the Christmas music by 6pm...

But on the day BEFORE Christmas eve, you're still enjoying the Christmas tunes, you still have one more day to go so it's not crunch time yet...that's what Thursday's are to me
.

Friday, October 05, 2012

Love, Loss, One Turtle, and Pajama Jeans 2012


I can tell you exactly what the weather was like two years ago today...it was a perfect 70 degree fall day...couldn't have been any prettier with the leaves changing and a warm breeze...

My friend died two years ago today of complications from leukemia...and she'd kick my butt if I sat here and wrote a sad tribute to her here...and besides that, there is no way I could top what her family wrote about her;

Susan (Spring) Cotch, 49, of Aurora, died October 5, 2010 at Lutheran General Hospital in Park Ridge, Ill., of complications from leukemia. It was during her childhood, when her Grandma Rose gave her her first cooking lesson, that she developed her lifelong love affair with food and its preparation. For Sue, life was to be savored and enjoyed. She found fun in everything and was part of a large group of friends and family that felt the same. Cooking was her passion and she was legendary for her entertaining skills, from the special dishes she created to the one-of-a-kind extras that made each dinner an event, and not just a meal. She also loved camping, traveling and exploring the world. For Sue, there was no finer reading material than a new cookbook. Her life-long love of French cooking and Paris fueled her own misguided fantasy that she herself was, indeed, French.


Seriously, is that the most awesome tribute ever? When I die, I want Sue's family to write my obituary...because if they don't, it may look something like this;

Cindy Huber passed away on ----, although it was hard to tell as she still continued to show up to work each day...although she was a little later then usual...Cindy loved HGTV, in particular House Hunters and, on occasion, House Hunter International, particularly in the winter when there was little else to do, and she especially hated walking the dogs in the cold air as she had to bundle them up in their little doggie outfits and they would skirm and fight her and it just sucked really. It got even worse for her once she gave up smoking, as then there really was nothing to look forward to when she walked the dogs, as she was now truly, just the person holding the poop bag, behind the dogs. Cindy also hated it when they moved the television show Survivor to Wednesday as it really screwed up the week for her and she kept forgetting it was on. Cindy really loved her DVR as she could finally tape Survivor, although she would often forget to watch it. Cindy had very few regrets but if pressed would admit that she wished she would've checked to see how long box turtles lived before she agreed to let her son have one, as she spent nearly half her life cleaning out the turtle cage. She also wished she had bought a pair of "pajama jeans" as it sounded like a really cool idea and she loved wearing pajamas, especially flannel ones that had pictures of polar bears. To Cindy, there was no diet plan that she wouldn't try, at least once, and amazingly not one of those diets ever included the words "eat less, excercise more," but more then likely included a Snickers bar and a Diet Coke. Cindy loved Jesus, her husband, her children, her grandkids, her parents, her brothers, her brother's wives and her nieces and nephews...she cherished her friends, enjoyed weather shows about tornadoes, and 3 pm naps on the couch. She joins her grandparents, her treasured friends, and quite a few dogs and cats, and hamsters. The box turtle outlived her.

Friday, August 24, 2012

I'm no longer horrified by all the mass shootings...



As I was leaving to go to work this morning my daughter informed me that there was another mass shooting, this time in front of the Empire State Building...and I heard myself say "so how many shot this time?" It's like I can't even muster amazement or horror, it's just, "how many this time?"

It was 3 weeks ago and 10 minutes from my home, that a deranged neo-nazi decided to stroll into a Sikh temple on a warm Sunday morning and shoot everyone he could...It was a gorgeous August day outside, clear blue sky, no clouds and yet I spent the entire Sunday afternoon inside, glued to the television set...just a couple of weeks before that it was the mass shooting at the Colorado movie theatre...The night before, my son informed me he had tickets to a midnight showing of the new Batman movie and I was uneasy, he told me to "stop worrying, what could possibly happen at a movie theatre?"

I'm sure that for the next couple of weeks we'll be subjected to all sorts of stories about the shooter, like what kind of student was he in grade school, were his parents nice neighbors, did he have a hamster, or "what possibly could've convinced this loser that this was a good idea???" Not that it matters, the damage is done...but for the next couple of weeks it's going to be the life history of this loser...til the next loser...

And maybe that's the problem...you want to be famous but you don't want to do the work that goes with earning fame, but if you have a vendetta...fame is cheap and easy, and every news channel in the country will beat down your door, or your neighbors door fighting other news channels to obtain and reveal your life story...until the next loser comes along, and your story is filed away in the loser trivia section of mass shooters...mentioned occasionally until the various lawsuits are dried up and the only two people who will really care about you are your mother and satan...

And how quickly the rest of us forget the shooters, do you even remember the big shooter story from six years ago? It was October of 2006 and the shooter was the local Pennsylvania milkman who shot 10 little Amish girls killing 5 of them...Remember what happened next? The families of the children killed promptly forgave him and offered their support to his widow and children...

Wow!

What's wilder...that their forgiveness made major headlines...shows you how rare something like that is...And I'm a little ashamed too...not at the fact that they can forgive and I, probably not as much...but the fact that I always sort of, well, while I didn't think I was better then the Amish, but I certainly didn't understand how they could stubbornly cling to the 1800's while the rest of us went wizzing by them in 2006...

My son and I were driving towards Iowa one freezing January Sunday morning earlier that year on Highway 18 when we passed several of the Wisconsin Amish on their way towards church...I had the heat blaring and the radio on and they were huddled together in open air wagons with blankets...my son had never seen Amish before and simply couldn't believe that they didn't have cars, and television and PS 2's..."they don't want to live in our world" I told him then...and today, who can blame them? But the fact that they could forgive and continue to love after all that has happened to them...well, I'm not even in their league.


Cindy Huber

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Just because...my thoughts from this year's State Fair

So, I talked to my doctor last Friday, and he said my triglycerides were way too high, my glucose was way too high, and my cholesterol, (yep, you guessed it), way too high, and that I need to go on a diet immediately to which I replied "Doctor, I've been dieting for over 20 years, and it hasn't worked yet!"

This is my former boss, Stan Atkinson who I still absolutely adore even if he did LAY ME OFF!!! The only problem I can ever remember with him, is he always talked about how much he hated cream puffs...yet, he always got to do the cream puff eating contest at the fair! (I've been saving this picture for over 3 years...)

This is my crush from last year's State Fair, chocolate covered bacon...This year I moved on...to pork chops on a stick!!! (oooohhhh yeah baby!!!) I never did locate the "Fat Elvis..." Deep fried Reeses Peanut butter cup in banana batter wrapped in bacon...I also did not locate the deep fried stove top dressing dipped in gravy...I think my guardian angels deliberately blocked my way...I did make it as far as Apollo gyros...they're a great gyro place that ONLY do the fair for 11 days, they've been in the same location for over 25 years...But I was a little disappointed because they didn't have the karaoke machine set up this year...I suppose that was everyone else's guardian angels protecting their ears...Hey, I only do one song anyway...Jose Cuervo...Just my way of keeping it country at the fair! ; )

These are my girls...CV, Julie and myself from a few fairs ago...
I haven't seen CV in ages, but she's a fellow Iowan so I consider her a sister...Julie is my "sister from another mother..." Julie is the reason I'm in another dance contest this year (MargaretAnn's Place Hosting Milwaukee's Dancing with Our Stars Gala--September 15 at Potawatomi Bingo Casino)...The last one we were in I got 6th place...Thank God there were only 6 contestants! My odds are much better this year...there's only 5 contestants...


This is why I LOVE the fair!!! I get to meet YOU!!! This is a very cherished photo from a fan of mine and I can't believe anyone wanted to come out and say "HI" to me...I consider myself very blessed, and grateful...Thank you!

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

The F Word

I was a senior in high school the first time I heard someone say the "F" word...I swung around and glared at the female...FEMALE...AND she was only a SOPHOMORE!!! "How crude," I thought to myself. Yeah, that was as close as I got to any swearing...In fact, it may amaze you to know that my mouth wasn't even PG rated in those days...which is unbelievable when you consider I spent my teenage years just outside of Chicago, Illinois...Nope, it was gosh golly, or on the rare occasion gol' darn, as taking the Lord's name in vain swearing was strictly prohibited in the bible, and I was a Baptist babe...my using the word "dammit" was still a couple of years away...that didn't start until I started working as a nurse aide at nursing homes, and I blame the nurses for that...; )

When you start to use the word dammit, it becomes a slippery slope, because once you start with that word it's a short jump to gol' dammit...and then one day you slip up and use the Lord's name, and when you're not immediately struck down by lightning...the F word is just one bad moment away, or the first time you accidently spill a full bed pan all over your feet...

The F word...the queen mother of all curse words...wasn't that the line in the movie the Christmas Story? The kid sits in the bathroom with a bar of soap in his mouth...when my Aunt Loretta was a little girl she actually discovered she liked the taste of one of the soaps...a fact my grandmother discovered when she found huge chunks of soap missing one week, and had to change brands...

I spent almost a whole winter standing in a corner during my Kindergarten year for using the "H--E--double toothpicks" word...a couple of little boys would knock the head of my snowman off, I'd tell them to go to hell, they'd tell the teacher, and I would spend the rest of recess indoors, in a corner...I missed weeks of recess that way...(I seriously could've used global warming back then)...but eventually my 5 year old brain wised up and I stopped making snowmen, and spent the rest of Kindergarten slamming the little brats with snow balls...which apparently was OK...

After a while I didn't notice how often I swore...I can remember dating a guy when I was in my 20's who wanted to bring me to a picnic with his family, but when he asked me if it was OK if I wouldn't swear around them I was furious..."forget it," I told him...Can you believe it? I turned down a free meal!!!

But years later I'm dating the man who became my second husband (poor guy), and I'm sitting in the car with him and my little daughter (who was around 7 or 8 at that time), when all of a sudden she spills something and starts cursing like a little sailor, which is not as cute as it's depicted in the movies...I chewed her out and she left the car in tears...I turn to my date and tell him "where the hell does she get that?"

Bob: "Where do you think she gets it...she mimics the person she lives with, the person she admires..."

Me: "Wait...are you trying to tell me that I swear?"

Bob" "You swear a lot..."

So I started working on my language...which turned out to be a whole lot easier then quitting smoking...with swearing, I went cold turkey...and the weird thing is, when you give up swearing...you start to notice people who swear..."how crude," you think to yourself...but just recently...one swear word has attempted to creep back in my vocabulary, and yes, it's the queen mother...

The problem with the F word is that it's effective...it leaves the recipient with no doubt about where you stand on the subject, it can't be misconstrued, and it's never misunderstood...I think that's the main reason the "F" word is still the Queen...where other words like damn has lost it's power to offend, and bitch, well, that word has just become so...almost friendly...the "F" word still retains all of it's original power...

But it's still not as offensive to me as that other "F" word...fat.




Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Here comes the reason for my next diet...

State Fair...Cream puffs...and bacon anything...

Summer in Milwaukee can be summed up in 3 words...Summerfest, State Fair...and Summerfest already seems like such a long time ago...
I'm posting this picture of my former co-worker Gene Mueller, just to prove to my son that I actually have met him, worked with him, and hopefully this will even give me some street cred to him...make me appear more "in touch" and maybe even...hip? (Is that even a word anymore?)..."hip" use to mean cool...but at my age--one wrong step off my couch--it could actually mean my hip...and several thousand bucks in doctor fees....

This picture was taken last year at the Wisconsin State Fair and I deliberately made the photo small, not because Gene isn't as cute as heck...he is...but, because I don't want to see a photo of my face any bigger then it needs to be...In fact, last year, I chose not to put this photo on my facebook even though I wanted my son to see it, just because I hated how I looked...But isn't life weird?...I've had so many awful pictures taken of me in the past year that THAT photo of me no longer looks as horrible to me as it did last year...that, or my eyesight is failing...

Today is 2 days before the start of another State Fair, and 13 days before the start of my next new diet plan...

...Yeah, it's too late to even try to lose weight for this year...but thanks to last year's photos, I know what shirts to avoid wearing...this is one of them...the other is an Hawaiian shirt that I bought several years ago in Naples, Florida, that I absolutely loved wearing until I saw a picture of me at the fair wearing it...what are the odds that I'll see some poor schmuck wearing my ridiculously comfortable but unflattering Hawaiian shirt while chomping on a cream puff, totally unaware that any picture taken of him, or her at the fair, will be the reason that my once treasured Hawaiian shirt, will once again turn up in the "sale" rack at the Salvation Army?

Monday, July 30, 2012

Scenes from a Wedding....

So I went to this wedding over the weekend...

A certain member of my family, who will remain nameless mainly because I LOVE her very much, and also because I'm already in trouble...Well, this person decided to get married over the weekend to a man who has a family who has never been housebroken...I guess that's the nicest way to put it...Not all of his family...just his mom Boozy, her sister Floozy, her other sister, Loser, and the other cousin, Maggot Breath...OH! And Maggot's idiot girlfriend...


Now, I have been shielded from this idiot family for years by my sainted husband whose name I refuse to mention although it wouldn't matter since he never reads my blog...But this weekend our families came together in only a way that could have included 3 cops, 2 forest rangers, and the proverbial cherry on top...a$$ whupping...And it all started when I, (yes me...I had finally had had enough at the reception and politely asked Maggot's girlfriend to leave, in a real quiet, hushed, polite sort of way...in front of the entire wedding bridal party while one of the groomsmen was making a speech...)

Her name, I later found out (when I filled out the police report) was Cirrhosis Liver...Now, what finally yanked my admittedly short chain was her throwing a beach ball at one of the speakers...and heck yeah, his speech had gone on a little bit too long, and it was dry, but that could've been because it was a "dry wedding"...NO BOOZE ALLOWED... Not that it mattered to Maggot, Cirrhosis and a few other members of this family, they got around the "dry wedding" part by coming to the wedding drunk, and astonishing to me--although I admired their dedication to the non-sobriety cause--stayed consistently drunk for four hours...that's right...they were solidly drunk for four hours...Not once did any of them appear to sober up in even the tiniest degree...(I, I am but an amateur to these people, I can do about a half hour of slurred speech, followed by about 20 minutes of banging into chairs and once, I was so drunk, I was actually able to strap on a pair of six inch heels--crazy, I know!--and walk around for a brief minute and a half before I realized..."I'm WEARING SIX INCH HEELS"...and ended up before the porcelain throne. In fact, most of my experiences with alcohol ends up in front of the throne, which is why, even today, if I even think there's a chance of booze, I clean the toilet before hand, just in case, that's what wisdom does for you)

Any way, where the heck was I...Oh yes, at a wedding...we have a groomsman and a speech that's about 5 minutes to long and still going strong, and a party guest named Cirrhosis, with her back to the speeches dumping her food (that I helped pay for) all over herself, the floor, and talking...I mean, slurring loudly, when she got the bright idea of flinging a beach ball at the kid giving the speech...OK, OK, here's where I come in...I didn't have a part in the wedding, and that's probably a good thing because in any wedding I was a bridesmaid, they eventually broke up, Why? Let's just say I'm like a broken mirror and 7 years bad luck and blah, blah, blah, where am I? Oh yeah...

At this particular wedding, my part, was to shut the heck up, and stay out of the way of everyone, and to have a good time...which I did before the beach ball, and I simply got up, put my face a few inches from Cirrhosis, and told her, politely to get out...now...Although honestly, it was more like GET OUT NOW...OK, OK, it was more like, "HEY YOU STUPID DRUNK, I PAID FOR ALL THAT COLESLAW YOU JUST DUMPED ALL OVER THE FLOOR THAT I'M GOING TO PROBABLY HAVE TO CLEAN UP (and I eventually did, because it was a rented hall) AND YOU CAN JUST STRUT YOUR DRUNKEN BUTT (a$$) OUT OF HERE...

But please, before you leave, take one of these ceremonial keychains with you so you will always be reminded of the great time you had at this wedding...Or maybe I didn't add that last part, but I might've as that sounds like something I would say...


Well, members of that family followed her out, there was a punch thrown, another, a pile up, it was almost like being at a Brewers game when they clear the clubhouse...exciting stuff and well, someone finally called the cops and the rangers, (we were at a state park) and we had to explain how a wedding that didn't include ALCOHOL turned into a good old fashion wedding brawl...

Here comes the best part...yeah, best part, I was saving the best part for last...Some of the new husbands kinfolk are screaming obscenities at me....ME...because I threw Cirrhosis out...to which I (believe it or not) smiled and installed my own brand of blessings on their untrained a$$es..."F you, and F you, and oh yes, F you too...by the way, did I tell you how this whole wedding started...the mom of new husband held up the wedding by showing up AN HOUR LATE to show off her displeasure at her son finally growing a testicle and getting married to the bride. And yet, I'm the bad guy...as her family streamed down the hill to their cars BEFORE the cops were called...they called me names...I just lost 10 pounds but these people were calling me fat...no, not "phat" but FAT...and I, the good Christian who loves Jesus, and I do, I honestly do, I F-them, each and everyone of them with a big ass smile on my face...you would've been right to think me drunk, but believe it or not, I was stone cold sober, although I was probably hyped up on Cherry Coke and a tad of coleslaw...BUT, the part I was saving, and this is the best part...THE CAKE hadn't been cut yet...that's the part that is truly gratifying to me...some members of his family didn't. get. ANY. CAKE...bitches...

And if they thought I was fat before the cake...

Well anyway,

How was your weekend?

Thursday, July 05, 2012

Life is getting weird

So this morning I'm updating my radio station's facebook page..."Breaking NEWS...it's HOT out...adjust your life style..." when what pops up in the bottom left hand corner of my screen...my firstborn has updated his "LIFESTYLE" status!!! First off, I'm shocked...my son has a lifestyle? How can that be? When I left for work this morning he was still in bed...And now he's in a relationship? (Time to hit the pause button, oh wait, there is no pause button, unless my husband paid the cable bill for this month.) But half the time I hit the pause it doesn't work...probably because someone borrowed the batteries...and in my house with three kids still living there, there are too many suspects, and each and everyone of them will have an airtight alibi. My son has an "updated lifestyle status..." And there's nothing I can say about it, because if I do, he will exercise the only option he has while still living at home while attending college. He will unfriend me. And I suspect the only reason I actually saw his status update is because he forgot I'm still one of his friends. I forced him to friend me after he unfriended me the last time for hitting "like" one too many times on one of his many "Brewer's rule" status...can't remember which one...One, to my son, is sometimes too much.
Son..."Ultimate frisbee was great!" Mom...LIKE. Son..."I warned you..."
Leaving me unfriended, and out of the loop in his life...shoot, even my brother who I rarely communicate with has been able to maintain his friend status...and he hits the "like" button way more then I do!!! Life isn't fair sometimes...I suppose I could just ask my son "how's it going.."
Son..."Why are you asking me that? What do you want to know?" Mom..."Nothing, just wondering how you're doing..." Son..."You're always asking me how I'm doing...I'm fine...stop worrying about me...cut the umbilical cord mom...I'm a grown up..." Mom..."You sleep in my basement..." Son..."Most kids under 30 sleep on in the basement thanks to today's economy and dismal job opportunity...and we don't have a basement!!! I sleep on the couch." Mom..."And I'm grateful for that son, otherwise I'd never see you!"
Thank God for facebook. Now here's hoping my son doesn't read this blog!

Friday, March 23, 2012

This year, so far...filtered.

2012 was going to be the year of the "no spilled coffee in the car." Now unfortunately, I'll have to wait until next year. (I should know better then to take the lid of my Starbucks, but darn it, there's a reason I order EXTRA WHIP!)

The year started off easy enough, I was blessed to see my parents at Christmas, I treasure every moment with them...and got to thinking how things change over the years...I put Skype on my parents computer last year...the hard sell is trying to get my mom and dad to use it...honestly, I have to beg them just to open the laptop...
Me: Just OPEN the computer...just DO IT! It's already on...just click the button that says answer with video...that's ALL YOU HAVE TO DO...just do it...

My DAD: Skype is spooky.

But get this...My mom use to talk my ear off for an hour, the phone would ring and I'd think "oh boy, I'm gonna be on this phone forever"...and my mom's favorite subject this time of the year is when the sun sets...this particular conversation starts about December 20th, the day before the shortest daylight of the year, where mom notes that after the 21st...daylight will start to swing the other way and every night the conversation would start out, today the sun set at 4:22p but tomorrow it'll set at 4:20p so we're going to gain another 2 minutes...but I've also noticed in the last couple of months as my mom struggles with breathing that it's changed...after 10 minutes my mom wants off the phone, and I'm egging her on, "so what time does the sun set this afternoon?"

It's crazy how you can leave the house and everything is OK, everything fine, and then you peek at your facebook at work only to see that your daughter put this post on your wall:

Hey Mom,
Dog is sick and had a few problems with bathroom troubles as well as vomiting. Just want you to beware. Not sure if I should give him anything or what.


Well, the good news is that we had just got our tax return. The bad news, husband wanted to spend it on a new bath tub, and I wanted to spend it on our sick dog. The sick dog won...and 600 dollars and 10 pulled teeth later, the dog is in excellent condition and as long as I can get him to take his blood pressure medication (which is easy if you have peanut butter), life should be a breeze...until the next hiccup...


It's been a weird weather year...50's in February??? 80's in March...(is it going to snow July 4---who knows?) Don't know exactly what mother nature is planning for us...so I go to work totally prepared...I wear my boots for snow, bring my umbrella for rain, and my bat...just in case a random game of softball breaks out.

Back to my parents, this past weekend I was in the emergency room Saturday night with my dad when the nurse asked my dad "so how many cigarettes do you smoke?" My dad says "1-3' and the nurse goes "cigarettes?" To which my dad replies "packs...1-3 packs" (a day)...the nurse gasps to which my dad goes..."but it's OK, their filtered..."