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...

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

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

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.

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.

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!!!

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..."

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.