Dumb stuff I said this year...

January 10th, in honor of the Olympics..."Believe it or not it was ten times worse walking the dog on glare ice tonight then it was in the frigid polar wind chills the other night...nothing beats watching an old dog trying to do his business while involuntarily sliding down sidewalk while I'm skating behind him with a pooh bag. I completed the walk with a triple lutz into the nearest snowbank while the old dog pretended not to notice."

On getting old...

All choices contain consequences which you pay for later in life--like for instance--My life long lack of food restraint means continuous dieting...OR..In the case of my fitnessed obsessed neighbor, knee surgery...

The problem with youtube is that it makes it possible for me to stay up all night watching the same video over and over...California Dreaming by the Mama's and Papa's...

You know television is really crap when the only thing you want to watch on cable is the Time/Life video selections...

You know what's great about late night television shows...you learn so much about information on things that want to kill you, like venomous spider bites and boa constrictors...A snake in a cage will spend all day and night trying to figure out how to get out and go after you...I'd make a lousy snake...I'd spend all day trying to figure out how to get out of the cage and change the channel...


Signs that I'm too old to sleep without some help;
Finally, the doctor reordered the Ambien for me...after another lecture on how sleep aids can be addicting and habit forming...You know, like how getting 8 hours of solid sleep a night can become addicting and habit forming...

Signs that I am old;

1. I'm actually considering a subscription to Readers Digest...and paying extra for LARGE PRINT...
2. And this is even scarier...Realizing that I actually DO like fruitcake...

Signs that I've developed some wisdom along the way;

When I was young I thought a sign of maturity was putting a pillow and an alarm clock next to the toilet before I went out and partied...Years later I realized I could just drink less and sleep in my own damn bed...

True maturity would have involved me noticing that I wasn't "rockin' my 80's perm..."

On losing a beloved member of the family;

After my husband caught me yet again on a website I shouldn't be on (Bichon rescue), I told him I would either have to have grief therapy or get another bichon....My husband asked how much I think the therapy would cost...

My beloved stepson left the nest today and although I should be happy because he is now officially living on his own, I'm not...He took the Keurig machine with him...

Reasons why I like Summer more then winter;
In the Winter, you can put on your flannel pj's at 5 pm and no one notices...In the Winter, you can then wear those flannel pj's over to Walmart if you have a long enough winter coat and no one cares...
So why do I like Summer more then winter? In the Winter, there's nothing to do but wear flannel pj's and go to Walmart.

Good news/bad news meaning of Happiness;

Happiness is remembering you have an unopened box of Eggo waffles.
Pain is realizing you are out of syrup.

On Dieting;

Have you ever noticed how many donut shops you live by after you decide to go on a diet?

On Easter;

Fat Tuesday.
Diet Wednesday.

Jesus Loves the Little Children;

Red and Yellow, black and white...We are all equal at the DMV...

On Thanksgiving;

Thanks to the internet I can now cook a Thanksgiving Turkey for the first time ever...I mean there are hundreds of recipes on how to cook a Thanksgiving turkey, with at least half of them telling you to start the turkey upside down in the oven...BUT NOT ONE of those recipes give you any idea what to do after the turkey flies out of the pan and hits the floor after you attempt to flip it over..

Why Bears Hibernate;

Another wickedly white knuckle night on the highway with morons spinning out all around me...thankfully the potholes on 60th provided much needed traction...Now I know why bears hibernate in the winter...they hate to drive...

To my dear Mother on my first Mother's Day without her;

Would you believe we got a beautiful sunny day? I have dreaded facing this day for months, grieving over the thought that this year I wouldn't be able to visit you, hold you or tell you how much I love you...Your absense is like being in a really bad club where the price of admission is a broken heart...BUT... Would you believe, when I woke up this morning the sunrise was so beautiful, the birds were chirping, it was just impossible to feel completely horrible...So I decided to plant some flowers in your memory and wanted to do pansy's, but then decided against them because they only last a short time before the heat wilts them and the pansy's just break my heart. My husband said plant them anyway, and enjoy them while they're here. So that's what I'm going to do, in your honor.

http://www.blogher.com/emails-heaven

Famous Last Words...

When my husband wanted to know why I was running out in my flannel pj's to Walmart, I replied "it's not like I'm going to run into anyone I know at Walmart tonight..." Hashtag...‎I‬ ran into everyone I know at Walmart tonight...

Things I'm doing while I should be working on my resume...

There are probably thousands of reasons why I should be working on my resume right now with the top reason being...my husband said "do it!"...

I had a really nice resume made three years ago that I thought I still had somewhere, with somewhere being the operative word...I have a resume somewhere that really doesn't matter because the skills I have listed on it doesn't apply to any job outside of the radio world...And I know that because I just read a new article off of Monster.com AND LinkedIn (so it's got to be true) that claims that all the Fortune 500 jobs are using robots to read the resumes that are submitted for jobs. Depressing. And all this time I thought it was because my resume sucked. Nope. It was just because I couldn't get past the robots, making my resume sound like the equivalent of a Playstation game. All that is missing are headphones so I can hear all the other resumes screaming as they get shot down by the robots. No wonder I'm sitting here playing mahjong instead of typing up a new resume..."Why bother if I'm just going to get shot down by robots?"

Wearing the Bee head at the Wisconsin State Fair is not a job skill unfortunately, but it should be. I got a real headache from wearing that thing!

On closer read I noticed that this article gave some very good advice about what you should and should not do to get past the robots;

Use keywords, or adjectives that describe your work ethic (conscious, driven, consciously driven), and avoid abbreviations, spelling out manager instead of using mgr. This would be a real problem for me as I have never managed anything (my time, weight, money) so obviously it wasn't that particular word manager that got my resume bounced.

But this article by Eric Larson entitled Meet The Robots Reading Your Resume has given me some food for thought and that is I have a piece of broasted chicken left over from lunch sitting in the fridge that I really should eat before one of my kids get it...

I am a team player, my station needed someone to bounce in the bouncy thing and I jumped right in!

Opps...Team player is not on the list, but the words conscious and consciously driven are two words that I've intersected with especially in my last old job, before this one...

I am conscious of the fact that there is a mat in front of me and these girls are expecting me to perform a summersault.

I am consciously driven to make a fool out of myself.

Wouldn't that be cool if that got my resume past the robots! Especially if it was for a job that required bouncing!

Or wearing a big hat?

Or standing next to someone wearing a weird hat?

Or serving barbecue at a radio appearance at a furniture store?

This last thought has got me thinking...I could get a job where I serve food..."Would you like fries with that?"

Fries...that's right! There are a few fries left with that broasted chicken downstairs in the fridge. Man, I hope the kids haven't found that yet...I really should go down and get it...Oh wait, what about my resume? Forget it, my husband's asleep.

Nothing to say...

I have been sitting in front of this computer now for almost an hour with nothing to say...which is simply incredible if you know me, but explainable if you realize that 3 days ago I decided to sign up for NaBloPoMo on Blogher and almost immediately ran out of ideas...I'm not sure that counts as a coincidence or not. Deciding to write a blog a day for NaBloPoMo gives November a sense of purpose for me...it means that it's not just a cold, dark month with nothing to do but go to work or nap...Now it's a cold, dark month where I blog about going to work and napping!

But I skipped the nap today because I promised my girlfriend last week I'd watch her kid for her today. I picked this little cherub up from school and promised her all the things you promise a kid when you know you have to watch them for two hours but then get to give them back...it's kind of like being a grandmother...consider it a form of friends with benefits if by benefits you get to enjoy being in the presence of a child, but you don't have to buy health insurance for them...Oh! And did I mention you get to give them back...I took this kid to Barnes and Noble because I still have a membership card with them until November 18th, which means today I still get the 10 percent discount on the Hershey chocolate cheesecake! About 10 minutes later I noticed she had barely touched her cheesecake which prompted me to utter something I thought I'd never say in a million years to anyone..."Eat your chocolate, kid!"

It turns out this little girl hates cheesecake, too bad for her but hey, hey, it was my lucky day because I'm not signing up for Weight Watchers until tomorrow, or next week, or maybe even next year...hard to say. I got her a consolation hot chocolate and then started to help her with her homework. We started with math. It was something to do with graphs. Graphs. She's an eight year old. That's when I decided it was probably time to take her to my house so I could search for one of my adult children...one of them just graduated from college this year, and the other one took math last semester. Thank God. My daughter offered to help...I kid...she did help...but that was after I begged her...I promised to let her use this computer right after I wrote my NaBloPoMo blog for today...

That was two hours ago...my friend came and got her kid, and one hour ago I sat down in front of this computer and started playing Mahjong while I waited for lightning to strike me with an idea...my daughter has been in twice asking when I'm getting off this computer but seriously I have nothing to say...

Cindy Huber

Emails from Heaven...

I really don't know how to start this other then to say losing my mom has been a lot like I would imagine falling off a cliff would feel. I recently checked my facebook posts from last year, and just about every post started out "please pray for my mom"--OR--"My mom is in ICU again..." And then there were all the emergency trips to Iowa.

Then my mom died. And you would think that in a small way, I would feel some peace of not having to worry about her; from wondering if she's taking her heart medications, to whether she left the water running in the kitchen faucet and is it flooding the basement again...but seriously, I don't. What I feel now is what I imagine hitting the ground would feel like, pain followed by numbness. Even in my dreams she's ill. My mom was so sick, for so long, I can't even remember what she was like when she was healthy.

Recently I got a call that required a resume, and as queen of the "put off today what you should be doing, and tomorrow you'll still have that problem." That's me, I invented that saying! But I was excited none the less, because I knew I had a copy of my resume somewhere in my old email folders...You know, the archives...where you're suppose to stick all your crap so it doesn't clog up your INBOX, or my INBOX, which, the last time I counted (a couple of minutes ago)had 125 emails, 80 of them unread. My email box is like that TV show Hoarders, except much less exciting.

But back to my resume, I knew I had done one 3 years ago when I last lost my job (before this), but it wasn't in there...not in any of the 3 archive folders I have, which, as you might suspect...are jammed.

But what I found in one of my folders was far more precious then any old resume I might have found...I found several of my mom's old emails to me, back before she got so ill, back before she got so cloudy she couldn't remember how to dial a phone, or turn on the computer. The first email she ever sent me is dated February 13, 2008 and is labeled Love you...other subjects included How much do I love you, only a mother would know, Thinking of you, I bet your asleep, To my sweetheart, Praying for you, Have not forgotten you...with the very last email she sent me, February 2, 2010, Missing you;

Dear Cindy,
It is about 11:00 p.m. Have been on the phone for 1 and 1/2 hours to a lady named Sonja that I met at the animal shelter quite a few years ago. She called to let me know that a young man that worked there probably about 35 years old died today with pancreatic cancer and wondered if I remembered him. I just don't. Maybe if I saw a picture of him I might remember him. But here again is a young man or young person with pancreatic cancer. I sometimes think that a lot of this cancer is caused by a poor immune system. The younger generation has been raised on McDonalds, Burger Kings and wouldn't know a cabbage from a cauliflower. Also we have a lot more additives in everything. I agree with you also that food kept in plastic containers or water is a cause of cancer. Years ago most things were kept in glass containers. Well your dad is waiting for me. I love him so must call it a night.
Missing you with all my heart but so thank-full for the time we had. My how it flew.
Love and kisses,
Mom

If I had won the Powerball I wouldn't have been more excited. I didn't know I had saved these, it's like the back of my closet, I don't even remember the last time I checked there. It was like getting my mom back again, even if it was only in a few emails. It was like getting an email from Heaven.

But the best part came last night, I had that dream about my mom again...She is lying in bed, hooked up to a million and one cords, but this time I wasn't sad, I reached over and said "Mom! I'm so glad to see you again, I love you!" As I was giving her a hug, I woke up. And I now have some peace.

If you are easily offended by everything, do not read this...

Recently I've noticed that there are a certain amount of people who are easily offended by just about everything. These people offend me.

I can assure you I would never intentionally insult you, unless of course it's too late and you're already insulted...in that case...screw you.

Honestly, racism is an ugly word that involves the idea that one's race is superior to another...but we've been throwing the word racist around for just about every stupid thing lately, that I believe we've totally diluted the meaning. We may have to invent a totally new word that means racist.

And if you don't agree with me, you're probably a racist.

(See how stupid that sounds?)

Morphine and Cable...Spending a week with my mom in hospice

Well, this is going to be a weird post.

My mom passed away Thursday morning, July 25th at 5 minutes to 9...In hospice, and shortly before Kelly Ripa and whoever her latest co-host came on...I was briefly aware of the tube being on at the time my mom stopped breathing, as I had turned the tube over to the Weather Channel at 3 AM after HGTV turned into paid commercial infomercials, but after spending almost a week of no sleep while waiting for the "end"...the irony of some mindless hosts giggling in the back round was lost on me in the darkness of the moment. The only thing I can recall now is that at the moment my mom stopped breathing, someone on the tube was talking about some tropical storm out in the ocean. And giggling.

It had been a brutal and devastating weekend, one filled with moments of hope, and then dashed by the brutal truth of reality. And yet, God showered me with His love, and at the weirdest moments, joy. Still, I'd rather been at Taco Bell...but they weren't open yet. Not that it wouldn't have mattered. I had decided that I wasn't going to leave my mom's bedside that week, although it wasn't because I wasn't a martyr or super daughter. I was simply terrified she was going to leave without saying goodbye, and there was no way I was going to let that happen. Especially since three weeks before that when visiting her at home (for what turned out to be the last time) I snuck out that Sunday morning basically without saying goodbye. Because my mom hated goodbyes. And the last few months every time I visited her in Iowa, she made leaving her hell.

"This could be the last time honey, I will probably never see you again, at least not on this side of heaven, I don't have very long honey, don't you think you could possibly spend one more day with me, call your boss, listen, I'll pay you for your day off."

She had been so close to death several times this year, that I have to tell you, I didn't know it was possible that someone could be so ill and still survive...and I kinda got use to it.

I even stopped making plans this past year, I simply couldn't, because I never knew if I was going to get a call saying "mom's in the hospital again and it's serious." And I would immediately hop in the car and drive the 6 and a half hours to the hospital to see her. People gave up asking me to come to their parties, and seriously, I stopped caring because I knew, that at any moment that phone could ring, and this would be the last time I would see my mom. And of course, that's eventually what happened. Oh, but I did briefly stop at my mom's house in that last week, for about 15 minutes, I was going to stay longer but it was simply too painful. This was shortly after my family was told there was "no hope." I was going to take a brief nap and a brutally needed shower but there were reminders of my mother everywhere, from the slippers she was wearing and had just taken off and left next to her shower, to her face cream she had sitting out just before her massive heart attack...not that my mom or dad knew it was a heart attack at the time, she started having problems breathing and my dad called 911 like he always did. Nothing out of the ordinary for my family, except this was going to be the last time. My dad told me later that they explained the "living will" to her (like they had countless times) and she had smiled at them and said "we had this exact conversation three weeks ago when I was here last," which was almost exactly three weeks to the day. My mom had just gotten out of the hospital that past Monday after spending almost three weeks in ICU and their hospital rehab. And here it was Thursday, and she was back in the ER, again. (I still have the last living will she signed, my husband says it's creepy, but it's the last time she signed anything in her life, and I am unable to part with it, at least for now.)

My mom had COPD which stands for Chronic obstructive pulmonary (lung) disease, which in plain English means "your life is going to suck very, very slowly." I can remember flying to Tucson with her 7 years ago and she was healthy, energetic, and in good spirits, everything felt normal. But when she came to visit me just a few months later, she would be walking and then suddenly stop, and catch her breath. At first I discounted it as mom being out of shape perhaps...but nothing more serious then that. Then the hospitalizations started, at first, just a couple of days here or there and maybe only a couple of times a year. Then the stays got a little more serious, and I noticed my mom's legs seemed swollen and discolored...almost blue, but my mom would shrug it off saying she had just been to the doctor, and I, should have known better, but desperately wanted to believe her. I started begging her to move to Milwaukee but because my dad refused to move (he was in more denial then I was) and because she didn't have the energy to even travel, I spent more and more time driving to Mason City, Iowa. And I became well versed on the various hospital menu items and on what night was rotisserie chicken. And where the best pizza was on the road (TJ's in Monona, Iowa, off Highway 18 a few miles east of the Mississippi) and the best rest stops and gas stations...but what I didn't know was how to best help my mom her last year of life. Oh, I had great intentions, I would come and spend the weekend cleaning her house, and washing her clothes, and nagging her on taking her meds. She in turn would alternately beg me to move to Iowa or ask me to stop nagging her on her meds. You can't argue with a nurse and my mom was a former hospice RN...no one was going to tell her how to do it, and I suppose, that's the way it should be. I'm thankful that the last couple of times I was there I gave up trying to "help her" and spent the time "enjoying her."

"So you're hungry for a chili cheese burrito from Taco Bell, alright, I'll drive you there. Need a nap, move over, I'll take one with you."

When I got the call the last time, something in side me said "this is it." And I don't know how I knew, but I knew it. Especially when I got to her room and she was calling out to her mother and brother, both who had passed away 7 years before. When I came into her room she grabbed me by my arm and pulling her face up to mine, looked into my eyes and said "I'm dying aren't I." Then she knew. And she handled it like a real pro, she honestly did. When the entire family got there, she took turns talking to us separately telling us that she loved us and where she thought our strengths and weaknesses were. No kidding, she wasn't brutal, but she was direct, like knowing that the end was coming freed her from having to worry who was going to be insulted and skip Christmas dinner this year.

The next few days were a blur. They discussed dialysis and then almost immediately ruled it out. There were just too many organs failing on my mom. I never knew she was that ill. She never told anyone everything that was going on. I felt like such a moron.

Hospice was the best thing that could of happened for mom, and I'm sure if you ever had a relative in hospice you know how awesome it can be. Yes, it's where your loved one is going to die, but for the most part, it's going to be as gentle and painless as they can possibly make it for family member and all I can say is God bless you North Iowa Hospice in Mason City, Iowa. They kept the morphine drip going, they kept my mom turned every two hours, and they explained everything in more detail (then I at times wanted to know) how death was going to happen. And yet I appreciated it. And the drugs were better then anything I could've ever imagined in the 20 years before when I had been an aide...but what scared me the most about my mother dying was the fear of hearing cheyne-stokes...it's a labored breathing...well let's just say it's horrible to hear that from anyone and the fact that my mom would even...I seriously didn't know how I was going to handle that, yet God heard my prayer;

She never did the cheyne-stokes. Nope....and when death came, it gave about an hour warning. My dad managed to make it in on time. He held her hand and told her he loved her. She opened her eyes, looked at him and then looked up at me, and then shut her eyes and stopped breathing. Death couldn't have been any easier on her, or us. I just wished I had turned off the cable earlier.

Cindy Huber

To Fear, or Not to Fear

So the other day one of my co-workers, Dave, stuck his head in my studio, "They think maybe a couple of bombs went off at the Boston Marathon...It's all over the news channels. Or maybe it was something else..."


"What else would it be?" I asked him. "Of course it was bombs. We've been hit again." After 2001, anything is possible, including terrorists, school shootings, and massacre's at Batman movies. Every day that my children--I say children, all of my kids are adults, but honestly, when my kids walk out the door, I find myself fighting the urge to cover them in bubble wrap, and that's not a joke.

I'm frightened, BUT, not for me. I'm terrified for my children...opps, my kids, their friends, my neighbors kids...and every time they walk out the front door I fight the urge to grab them and hold on to them...seriously, they're starting to think I'm some kind of nut case. My mom use to have a saying, "nothing good happens after midnight" every time she set a curfew, but honestly, I've changed it to "nothing good happens anywhere, at anytime, anymore." I find myself fighting a panic attack every time one of my kids say they're going to the mall. They-my kids-are getting to the point where they don't even want to tell me they're heading to McDonald's...just in case I freak out. They just sneak out the front door. And suddenly, the house goes silent. Which sets off an even bigger panic for me. The house is too quiet. What if something happens to them? What if some nut is at wherever they are going, and they never come back. Is this what the house would sound like? Quiet? Too quiet?

I can honestly tell you that when I first heard about this this afternoon, my first thought was, well, I'm never going out again...or forget Milwaukee's big music festival Summerfest, I'm not going out in crowds, ever again...But then, you know what? I got this thought that that's exactly what the terrorist's want. Think about it...what's really more scary, never leaving the house again except for work or beer? Boston's bombing was just as much about hitting this country with FEAR then it was about the actual destruction or death. And I can cower in the house, which is quite honestly what I've been doing for the past few months, OR, I can determine to live my life. Really live my life. Which means getting off my couch, turning off the news channels, and going outside, to the store, to a movie, to the lake, or better yet; the next time my kids try to sneak out of the house because they're afraid I'll panic because they're leaving the safety of the house, I'll simply tell them to have a good time...or better yet, ask them if I can go with them. Trust me, the thought of me tagging along with my kids scares them more then any fear of being a potential target.

Ultimately, a terrorist can only kill me, but they can't take my soul. Not if I don't let them.

I have a choice. I can live in fear, or, I can...live.

So what's my choice? I haven't decided yet. Maybe when the news channel goes to commercial...or I run out of beer.

I'm Driving to Target to get an Avocado...

I'm going to Target to buy an Avocado...

I should go to the regular grocery store that's closer to me, but as I'm walking out the door it occurs to me that I need a Swifter too...just in case I ever get the urge to clean my kitchen floor again which actually happened yesterday between 2:30p and 3p but couldn't because one of the kids used the Swifter to clean the snow off their car two weeks ago, and then never returned it...The other reason I should go to the grocery store closest to me is that there is a big snow/ice storm moving into the area and I should get to the store and back before it hits...but, the Swifter is 3 dollars cheaper at Target because I have a coupon...

The problem at Target has nothing to do with the fact it's 3 miles farther then the nearest grocery store...it's that everyone else has exactly the same idea, hit the store before the storm...who knew everyone in Milwaukee needed a Swifter at exactly the same time I did! But there's no such thing as buying one stinking item at the store, and it occurs to me that I probably need laundry detergent...it's not a question of if we're out, I have 3 adult kids living at home...and it's Sunday, so I'm just gonna assume we're out...

As I'm looking for the Swifter's (just where in the hell do they put them anyway???) I find the vitamin aisle and see the fish oils are on sale for 6 bucks for 360 softgels...I vaguely remember my cardiologist recommending fish oil so into the cart it goes...along with a couple of cans of Campbell chicken noodle soup, 3 Vitamin waters, and Concord grape juice...Wait a minute! It's Sunday night so I'm going to need popcorn and so I head to the snack aisle where it's unbelievable...EVERY SINGLE PERSON in the store is in the same aisle and I suddenly morph into one of my grandson Aaron's favorite X-box game from Call of Duty--my grandson is partial to Black Ops 2--where I'm a Team of One destroying thousands of Milwaukeans who are blocking my 35 calories per cup Boom Chicka Pop which unfortunately is not on sale this week, and was probably cheaper at the grocery store, which was closer to me then Target...and by the way, what is the weather doing out there?

I hurry to the check out where the aisles are three lines deep...snaking around the Maybelline make up samples I resist the urge to buy Maybelline 24 hour superstay 24 hour lip gloss because it highlights my smoker lines....and I left my Swifter coupon at home.

It's driving home from Target that scares me the most...in the short amount of time I was inside, the storm arrived and the clear highways I drove 9 miles over are now completely snow and ice covered and as I'm sitting at the red light outside the store, I see a lady in a big black minivan barreling towards me...I've always wondered what I'd do if I saw someone in my rear view mirror about to plow into me...and now I know...I'd freeze...Yes, I'd just sit there waiting for the boom-chicka boom! At the last minute she turned into the opposite lane and rolled onto the sidewalk on the other side of the street, and then miraculously, because there was no on-coming traffic, she put her minivan into reverse and pulled back behind me...Shaken, I drove home 20 miles under the speed limit and was just pulling into the driveway when it hit me...I forgot the Avocado.

Cindy Huber

Sitting Two Feet Away from my daughter...

I am sitting two feet away from my daughter...it's been awesome...finally, some family time with my daughter...except I haven't said anything to her all night...Nope...don't have too...If I want her attention, I'll just post something on her facebook wall...

My old computer has been on life support for a few months, and finally froze up one too many times, and that was it...I was disconnected from the rest of civilization for about a month...turns out I didn't miss much...

Not much happens in January after the Packers blow the play-off...Really. At least there's TV...let's see, what's on? Oh! There's Katie Couric...who's she interviewing...some guy named Tivo...Tebow...no, Te'O...Well, it's Katie, so it's got to be someone important...I'm reading the news scroll underneath and it says she's interviewing him about his imaginary girlfriend on facebook...Wait!...For real??? Is this some kind of joke??? I have 875 friends on facebook and I've only met 50 of them!!! Some of them might not even be real for all I know...Where's my freakin' interview Katie??? Maybe I need to take up a sport...

(This is the MIZ from WWE RAW...I'm told that RAW is a sport...The MIZ is not imaginary either...AND he's hot! This photo was taken one month before I got laid off--not that that matters to anyone other then me)

I was lucky enough to be offered a part time job editing religious programs and believe it or not I really enjoy it...This is what I mean by editing religious broadcasting...Different churches send me their sermons on either CD or cassette (yes, cassette) and the sermon varies in length anywhere from 37 minutes to an hour, and my job is to somehow edit this sermon into a Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday show...now depending on their opens and closes or if they have any commercials I have to come up with a show that's anywhere in length from 9 minutes, 30 seconds, to 11 minutes...the last kid that did the job wasn't necessarily religious and based his editing on pure math and did the splices anywhere there was an amen or Halleluah...which was great because he was good at math, but I suck at it so I end up actually listening to parts of the sermon and try to edit where he starts a point, and
end his show about right where he or she ends a thought...but it can get tricky as you get towards the end of the week...at the beginning of the sermon you have all the bible versus and the pastors are more peaceful but by the end of the sermon (week)where it's closer to the alter call, that's where it's trickier to get a great show on Thursday and Friday...and although all my preachers vary in sound and message....a few of them sound almost exactly alike when they are caught up in the Holy Spirit, taking on the sound of a Southern preacher, regardless of whether they're white, black, spanish, or a southern preacher...Which caused a minor panic for me this past Friday night when I was listening to my radio station...Now, just because I edit the shows doesn't mean I've ever listened to any of the open or closes for the program...so at 5:30 pm I heard a nice soothing open introducing this particular church anchored in the heart of the city...and then the screaming started..."I'M TAKING THIS CAMP FOR GOD! I'M TAKING BACK THIS CAMP FOR GOD! I AM MARCHING INTO MY ENEMIES CAMP AND I AM TAKING THIS CAMP FOR GOD. I AM TAKING THIS CAMP BACK FOR GOD! I AM.TAKING.THIS.CAMP FOR.GOD..."

It went on like this for the entire sermon. At first I was freaked out thinking I might have inadvertantly, accidently switched a pastor, you do have to be extremely careful when you are putting the shows in the system because several of the names of the pastor's shows sound familiar...for instance, there's Walk in the Word, and Walking in the World, there's Abundant which is a wonderful woman pastor from the North side, and Abundance, which is a Christian financial show by a white guy...but I relaxed when the show went over 9 minutes 30 seconds which meant I hadn't accidently switched the pastor I was worried about...being Friday and all I had merely reached the end of the Sunday sermon in my edits and was at the part of the sermon, right before this pastor's alter call...I had reached the end part of the tape...and started the editing for the Friday show right where the pastor began his point..."I AM TAKING THIS CAMP FOR GOD!"

The truly amazing thing was after the shock and all was how truly hypnotic this pastor became...because for exactly 11 minutes that's all he said was "I'M TAKING THIS CAMP BACK FOR GOD!....when, at the 10:59:56 I heard...a Halleluah!" And I had a good chuckle
over it I truly did...until I went in the house and realized that no one had walked the dogs and I'm tired, and it's cold, no one has made dinner, there's no clean dishes but most importantly at this very minute...Someone has to walk the dogs and unfortunately it looks like it's gonna be me, when suddenly something welled up inside me like a gust of wind through my soul..."I'M TAKING THESE DOGS FOR A WALK FOR GOD! YES, I AM TAKING THESE DOGS A WALK FOR GOD...I AM MARCHING OUT INTO THIS COLD WEATHER, ARMED WITH GOD'S GRACE AND A COUPLE OF POO BAGS, AND I AM WALKING THESE DOGS FOR GOD!!!

Then it dawned on me...Just about anything in life can be accomplished if you just decide you are going to take this camp back for God...I AM NOT GOING TO HAVE A BAD NIGHT! I CAN ACHIEVE WHATEVER GOAL MY HEART DESIRES AND TONIGHT I AM GOING TO TURN OFF THIS COMPUTER, AND TURN TOWARDS MY DAUGHTER SITTING TWO FEET AWAY AND TELL HER HOW MUCH I LOVE HER!!!

Or maybe I'll just post it on her wall.

Cindy Huber

When 2013 Showed Up Early...

Oh no, he's rounding the corner...Oh wait, correction, he's standing on my doorstep, Mr. 2013, and he's ringing the doorbell...and worse, the damn New Year is holding a scale, HIDE!...Oh Shoot, there goes my husband..."don't answer it!" Too late, he just opened the door.

"What's he want honey?"

"He wants to have a word with the idiot that's planning on jumping in Lake Michigan tomorrow..."

"Um, tell him I'm not home..."

"It's too late, he knows your home..."

"How?"

"He can see your big butt sticking out from under the kitchen table...plus you have your swimming suit laying on the sofa...C'mon, It's not like he's the grim reaper, he just wants to talk to you for a second..."

"OK..." So I head to the door...2013 is easy to recognize, I've always imagined him looking a little like John Travolta...the older John...looking like the guy in the gangster movie dancing with Uma...I don't know why my imagination always defaults to John...I had a picture of him on my fridge for years...it was suppose to embarrass me into abandoning the French onion dip...I would look into John's eyes and will myself to put the chips down...I can't eat that...I've gotta look good for John...There's always a chance I'll run into him for real...or if he does actually turn out to be the grim reaper...Any how John's wearing a heavy winter coat and he looks cold, so I ask him if he wants to step inside for a moment..."Nah," he says, "Kelly's waiting in the car, and I just wanted to drop you off this scale..."

Of course. John's always been a reminder on my fridge not to overeat, and now he's standing at my door with a scale, while his wife waits in the car...You know what, my fantasy's suck!

"You're a little early Mr. 2013..."

"Yeah, I know, but I thought you could use some encouragement, 2012 was rough for you..."

"I'll say...last time I visualize 2012 as Heath Ledger as the joker..."

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"We were watching Batman last New Year's Eve..."

"You're fantasy's suck!"

"Is this the encouragement you were talking about, that and the scale?"

"No, I was just trying to be helpful, obviously your old scale is broken..."

"It's not broken."

"You never use it..."

"I'm planning to this year...losing weight is part of my New Year's resolution..."

"Seriously...you say that with a straight face...this has been your resolution for years..."

"I like being consistant. And this past year I gave up smoking, so cut me some slack..."

"I'm really proud of you, you've made a commitment to living longer..."

"Not actually John, er, I mean Mr. 2013, some people want to live forever...I'm not one of those people. They just didn't go well with my beta blockers..."

"Well still, you did good. You lost your radio job this year, I know that's been real hard..."

"Well actually Mr. New Year, that turned out to be a blessing. I was able to have all this time off to spend with my parents, and I never would've been able to do that if I was still employed. So, getting laid off, turned out to be an unexpected blessing for me. Plus, old radio station offered me a part time job editing and producing religious programming. I'm relearning skills I use to know 7 years ago! So everything that I feared like losing my job, turned out to be better for me in the long run.

"Well good for you! Then honestly, you really don't need my encouragement. And maybe this year, you should drop losing weight from your resolutions...try something like eating healthier...it'll take all the stress off of you..."

"Thanks for the advice John, but I'm waiting for the magic pill, any idea what year that'll be?"

"Can't make out the year, but Britany Spears is using a walker..."

"Oh great...well, go ahead and take the scale with you, I supose if I could give up smoking, I can make an attempt at eating healthier...and Slimfast is on sale this week...So, where you going next?"

"Hilary Clinton...she's in the hospital and needs some encouragement..."

"Send her my love...I think I'll replace dieting with a resolution I can really keep, like praying, and I'll put Hilary on the top of that list, but whatever you do Mr. New Year, hide the scale..."

"Very funny. This coming from someone whose planning on jumping into Lake Michigan tomorrow..."

"So what do you think, should I do it?"

"Of course, otherwise, what else are you going to blog about New Year's Day?"

Cindy Huber

Stuff to Consider Before Jumping in a Lake...

You're probably busy thinking about what type of dinner to serve on the last day of 2012...fools!

Not me, I'm making plans to jump in Lake Michigan on January 1st...so whose the fool now wimps?

Now you might ask yourself, who wants to jump in a freezing cold lake on the first day of a new year? I suppose that's a legitimate question...but then, there are a lot of legitimate questions like, "why stop at Starbucks or McDonalds for coffee, when you can make it at home for much cheaper"...why? For the burn babies! And the simple reason that our coffee maker broke and I've been too busy (lazy) to fight the crowds at the mall for a new one...

There are several reasons why I want to jump in the Lake (again) at noon on New Year's Day...although for the life of me I can only think of three at this moment...the first reason involves bragging rights for my children, my 20-something kids...you know how it is with kids, they're in their 20's, they gather around with their other friends, and talk about how crazy their parents are...at least in this case my jumping in the Lake trumps what all their friends crazy parents are doing..."Oh, you think you're mom's crazy...hey, my mom jumped in Lake Michigan on New Year's Day..."

"Whoa. Dude, that is crazy..." Or dudette, I don't know what the young kids slang is anymore...the last slang I used correctly was "that's the bomb!" For the record, don't say that on a plane.

The second reason involves my husband talking to his parents or friends "wanna know what my crazy wife did today?" Yep, consider that the gift that keeps on giving honey.

But the third reason involved something more complicated for me...the "the symbolic casting off my old life, and embracing what the new year brings...and pneumonia...hey, someone has to keep Tamiflu and Alka Selzer profitable...

I did my first Polar Bear jump on New Year's Day 2004...I got up at 6 am, and made a big thermos of hot chocolate...I kid...I made a big thermos of Malibu Rum, and then I poured a cup of hot chocolate in it...my husband, his buddy and I got to the Lake around 9am so we could park close, and enjoy the festivities. I wore an old sweatsuit, bathing suit, my radio station tee-shirt (always thinking of the promotion angle), and in a strike of brilliance, water shoes...thank God I had them too...because the single worse thing about Lake Michigan was sinking into the muddy cold muck...although the water itself, turned out to be warmer then the air...a nice balmy 35 degrees...which isn't much cooler then what it is out there in the middle of summer, with far less people...because ironically this beach was crowded on January 1st, with thousands of on-lookers, and a few hundred brave souls like me who thought this might be a good idea...which probably had something to do with the amount of alcohol we consumed before we went in...which brings me to the first thing you'll need to do before you jump into a freezing cold lake on the first day of the year.

Be drunk...very, very drunk.

It doesn't matter just how out of your mind drunk you are, because in this case, when you hit the water, you will immediately become sober, very, very sober.

And, secondly, make sure there are no very buxom hot babes in a bikini in front of you as you turn around to haul butt out of the Lake...because if you are one of the unfortunate ones behind this pole dancer, your husband will never remember to take your picture, because guaranteed, the hot babe in front of you will lose her top...and no one will ever know you were really in the Lake, because you won't have a picture to prove it...

"Hey Bob, how many pictures did you take?"

"Of what?"

"Me in Lake Michigan, silly."

"What? Did you already go in?"

"You son of bitch!"

"Why don't you jump in again and I'll take your picture?"

"Why don't you take a picture of this!!!" (I'll leave it to your imagination what I'm talking about.")

That night, on all three Milwaukee news stations managed to get the shot of the buxum babe climbing out of the Lake while blocking out her...um, girls...although I was too cold and tired to care, as I spent the rest of New Year's Day bundled under two blankets nursing my Nyquil and orange juice...

They say you forget how bad child birth really is after you've had your kids for awhile...and I can say it's the same for jumping in Lake Michigan...although it's taken about 8 years to start thinking that this might be a good idea, again. Although this year, I'd be doing this for the grandkids, "hey, wanna know how crazy my grandma is..?"

I'm thinking I'll skinny dip this year so my husband won't miss me getting out the lake, unless of course there's a drunk buxum babe in front of me wearing a bikini...sigh....think anyone will notice?

Cindy Huber

How Much Does It Cost to Save the Dog?

My dog needs a serious bath...and there is no one in the house that is going to do it...except me...Nine years ago we got a bichon-frise for my daughter...bichon-frise is a french term which transulated means "you paid too much for this dog." The dog was from Iowa, and it was over a year old so we got a significant deal on it...the only thing the owner said of any note was "it really likes males..." We should've listened. We brought this dog named "Boz" home, changed his name to Max, and gave him to my daughter. He immediately turned up his little french nose at her and turned his attentions to my husband--who of course, has never cared for dogs--and Max has loved him ever since, which is probably a good thing, because twice my husband has saved his life...

It's a short story actually, Max got real sick, I took him to the vet, and for a while it looked like another Huber pet was on his way to pet heaven...What was the problem? We're still not real sure but it's some kind of parasite whose name I forgot that apparently the dog picked up from some other dog and that's about all I know except...if your dog ever gets real sick and you rush him to the vet and the bill comes to 471 bucks...that's the one!

Max got seriously ill again earlier this year, but this time, there was no extra money to save him...except...well, we had just gotten our tax return...my husband had earmarked it for our bathroom fund (our 1937 enamel tub is leaking and we need a new tub)...It went something like this, the dog got sick on Monday, the tax money showed up on Tuesday...and Tuesday night there was a serious discussion...

Me: The vet says the dog needs 10 teeth pulled, and he has heart problems, but he thinks he can save him for 700 bucks...

Husband: What can he do with 200?

Me: We can get a group cremation and possibly a nice urn...

Husband: What does the urn look like?

The dog got his teeth pulled, we didn't get the new tub, and tonight, because it's been a while since I could afford to take Max to the groomer...when he did his doggie duty he got it stuck all over his furry butt...and there's no one else in the house that's going to do it...when I came back after walking the dog and yelled, "can somebody help me, he's got pooo..." the house went strangely quiet...so it's me and the dog, in the leaky tub, and the dog is squealing and shaking water all over me...and I'm swearing...when suddenly my husband showed up at the door with a glass of wine...

Me: For me?

Husband: No, for the dog...where's your Xanax?

Me: Why, do you think I need it?

Husband: No, everyone in the house that can hear you needs it...

Well, it's an hour later, the dog was wrapped up in a towel, but decided he liked my coat better, dragged it off the couch, and is now rolled up in it...If that makes him feel better that's OK...I'm just gonna smell like wet dog for the next few days...

Cindy Huber

The Incredible True Life Adventure of a Paid Movie Extra...

This is the true story of a now unemployed radio Dj/wannabe actress who got the chance of a lifetime to appear in a real Hollywood movie filmed in Milwaukee;

OK, I'll cut the crap...

I wasn't always a "recently unemployed" radio Dj...Nope, there was that summer of 2003, when the late, great comedian Bernie Mac decided to film a movie about baseball in Milwaukee at Miller Park...I'm sure you've heard of it...Mr. 3000? No? You must not be from Milwaukee then...Obviously his film company was hoping for a repeat of movie magic left over from the 80's when another movie was filmed at Miller Park...another famous baseball movie called Major League starring Charlie Sheen...I'm sure you've heard of it...Yes? OK, then we're now on the same page...

As I mentioned before, this was the summer of 2003, and there wasn't a lot of news going on, or maybe there was but none of the news channels covered it...Nope, it was all about Bernie Mac filming a baseball movie here in Milwaukee and it was covered like the Second Coming......And when the news went out that they were hiring for EXTRA WONDERFUL PAID EXTRA'S...well, here it was, the proverbial brass ring and I was going to reach for it!!! And in June, 2003, it happened...and as another late, great radio announcer, Paul Harvey use to say, "and now for the rest of the story..."

My journey from radio DJ to (no one gives a crap) Paid Extra started with me going to a local hotel that was holding an "open call." I had had professional modeling photos taken of me 3 years before and I now looked nothing like them...it should of been a tip off when they looked at the photos, looked at me, looked back at the photos, and then hired me...it turned out they hired darn near everyone that came through the line that day...But that's OK right? It's a baseball movie...you need a lot of people...Bingo!

I spent the next three weeks at Miller Park working on this movie from 6 at night til 6 the next morning...and I'm embarrassed to tell you that at the very beginning of the shoot I was crazy enough to think I would somehow actually be discovered..."sure I'm a little plump and of well, average looks, but by GOD someone on that set is going to discover I can't act AND they are gonna make me a STAR!!! The only problem is EVERYONE on that set the very first day had EXACTLY the same thought...(and there were 60 of us that day - later the numbers swelled to 800 people)

I consider myself a realist, and by the third day I realized that there was ABSOLUTELY NO WAY that anyone would ever see me in this movie which freed me to think about much more important things like; "what's for supper"? (which on the movie set was served anytime from 11 pm to 2 in the morning...and usually involved some incarnation of boneless, skinless chicken)

So, as the glamour of being in a movie faded, I sat in Miller Park night after night watching the sun go down, and then coming back up 12 hours later and thinking about how I was never going to be famous and wondering if it was going to be chicken again for supper (it was, night after night after night--meanwhile, you could smell the steaks barbecueing outside for the real actors)...But, more importantly, I ended up making NEW friends who were just like me, real, non-famous people who were never going to become famous in this movie with names like Hollie and Zimdog and that chick from Midwest Airlines who had been laid off...freed from the burden of fame we resorted to playing card games and talking about what we were going to eat for dinner...One hint...tastes like chicken!!!

So, what did we do 12 hours at night sitting in the bleachers at Miller Park...you know, when we weren't eating chicken or talking about eating chicken?

Well, some nights it took the movie crew hours just to set up a shot and it seemed like sometime between 2 am and 3 am they would trot out Bernie and then they would film a scene...other nights they would trot us up and down the seats of Miller Park...shoot a scene...move us to another section of the ballpark...shoot the same scene again at another angle...and then again at...(you get the gist)...and we would cheer (but don't make any noise...(the sound effect guys would add that later)...look to the right...look to the left...jump up and cheer...(please people...NO NOISE!)..."OK, we have the shot"...now back to the subject of food again...The coolest nights were when Paul Sorvino or Chris Noth showed up...then someone would yell "HEY PAUL!" Or "HEY BERNIE!" They'd wave, and then someone from the film crew would call someone from security and the person who yelled would be ejected from the movie...

And that's about it...that's all the dirt and everything...Yeah, being a "paid extra" is one of those things I'll always be glad I did even if it did ruin the glamour of movie making...in fact, for me it ended up ruining movies and TV shows altogether because now I'm so busy looking at the people in the background that I miss what the MAIN actors and actresses are doing...(look at the young guy in the background holding a glass of wine pretending to talk to that middle age woman in the pink dress...I bet he's eating chicken later!)

Cindy Huber

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

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.