Here I Come To Save The Day!

I'm no Mighty Mouse, but I sure played one this morning. I know I don't typically blog more than once a week, but this news is so big and so amazing, I had to share immediately. If you didn't see my previous post about my cousin's passing, it's below, so is a picture of Lane 1 and his new car. Please notice his cute outfit.

It's been a while since I've written about my heroic efforts to save those in need, but I've not hung up my cape. I am still kickin' it old school and saving lives like crazy. This morning was no different. It was 4:30 am, my old man and I were having our coffee together before work.

The morning was progressing, and ideas were popping. I felt the need to get started with work early.

As I typed away, Mr. Lane said, "I'm going to go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, and then I'm heading out."

He walked away and I continued to write. That is until the dogs were whining to go outside.

Mr. Lane was (there really is no nice way to put this) sitting on the throne in the bathroom. From behind the closed door, he screamed a terrifying scream, "LOIS! LOIS OH MY GOD, LO!"

I busted into the bathroom and saw the decorative towels on the rack next to the toilet were on fire. Seriously, up in flames.

My husband...whose pants were around his ankles...was trying to crawl off of the toilet to get something to put the fire out with.

Like an Olympic hurdler, I sprinted and jumped over his still on-all-fours crawling body, grabbed another decorative towel from a different bar, jumping back over my naked crawling husband, I flung it and myself against the growing flames.

I turned my head away from the fire, hoping to burn only my hands, if anything at all. With my head turned over my shoulder, like an owl, I saw my husband's big old doe eyes looking terrified. My eyes gazed at the rest of him...mostly naked...pants and skivvies still around his ankles...still positioned on all fours...mouth agape...eyes wide...terrified...paralyzed in fear...

...fucking hysterical!

Looking back at the towel rack, I saw the flames were out. I looked back over my shoulder to see not one inch of flesh had moved on my husband. Calm and casually, I said, "Honey, you dropped something."

Mortified he, still on all-fours, still with his pants around his ankles, frantically searching for anything that "may have dropped." Within seconds, I was on the floor with him laughing my ass off.

He finally snapped out of his state of shock, realized I was just joking about the dingle berry that got away, hopped back onto the toilet, looked at me very seriously as I continued to roll around the floor laughing. Clearly, he was not amused.

When I finished laughing at him and before I gave him the privacy he seemed to desire, I asked how in the hell the towels caught fire.

Now sitting like "The Thinker" on the toilet, he said, "This towel had a string hanging from it, so rather than pull it, I took my lighter and tried to burn it off. But the whole thing went 'woosh' up in flames."

"Woosh?"

"Yeah, woosh!"

"I wonder if toxic gasses had anything to do with it."

Disgusted and annoyed, he very seriously said, "Can I get some privacy, please?"

Walking out, stifling my laughter, I said, "You're welcome."

---

*** UPDATE ***

Rosie Live, is tonight!

The head writer and co-producer of Rosie Live told me if the show progresses, meaning if NBC picks it up as a weekly...she would "be happy to take a submission" from me.

As most of you know, it is my dream to write for this show. I have a pretty good chance, providing the ratings are HUGE.

I'm asking everyone to please tune in to Rosie Live on NBC at 8/7CST tonight!

I'm heading out of town, hoping to make my destination in time so I can watch live too rather than the DVR version. So off I go with "The pedal to the metal and the thing to the floor!" (Five points to whoever knows what movie that's from)

Welcome fellow Poop & Boogies lovers! William, thanks for the plug.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!!!

The Leader of the Pack

A few days ago, I posted a blog on MySpace that I didn't post here. I've received a few emails from Home Fires "regulars" whose feelings were hurt because I chose to only post it on MySpace.

I rationalized doing so because I convinced myself that it would be just my luck, I post something serious and unfunny, and Rosie O'Donnell sure as hell is going to finally see my link in the Ask Ro, come back to my blog, see the unfunny post and say, "What the..." and forget all about how funny she used to think I was, and completely toss my request for consideration as a comedy writer for her show.

I snapped out of my fog this morning. Number one, Rosie isn't one to judge. Secondly, she is as real as I am, and I know she would understand life happens even in my world.

Never mind the fact, that, I really don't keep anything from my "home fries" at Home Fires. (Yes, I know, so many people think it is Fries, rather than Fires. Either way, it's all good.)

So I'm here to fill you in, and apologize. So much has happened in the last week.

---

My 38-year-old cousin Paula died five days ago. She always had a heart condition, but no one seemed to know she was so sick. She had flu-like symptoms, simply said she didn't feel well, and collapsed. They couldn't revive her.

I remember when we were really young Mom would say, "Pray for Baby Paula." Every night we prayed for her as she endured open heart surgery, then recovery. If she came down with so much as a cold, we would pray some more. Just a small cold could take her fragile life.

By the time we hit double digits, she was like any other kid, except she had a "zipper" on her chest. She never got offended at my fascination with her scar. And she only smacked me once when I suggested the surgeon accidentally took out her booby bones while he was in there.

We spent a couple of weeks of the summer of 1984 together at her house. I remember the year because Van Halen's album 1984, just came out. We listened to that until the tape warped. I felt like more than a cousin. For the first time in my life, I had a sister who I didn't want to fight with, tell on, or cause bodily harm to.

We ran amok. Thankfully for us, her parents were patient and kind.

We got older. Life happened. I married. She married. We moved even farther away from each other. I'm on the boarder of Iowa, she was living in Indiana. We turned into wedding and funeral friends. Sad, really.

When I got to the funeral home to say goodbye today, I saw many other family members whom I haven't seen since the last wedding or funeral. It was so nice to see everyone. I just wish the circumstances were better.

In memory of Paula, I started a family blog, hoping history doesn't repeat itself. Hopefully it will become a fun place where each of us can post and share family pictures, recipes, memory lane stories etc.

I feel like such a self-absorbed asshole for not taking the initiative to get to know the grownup Paula and the rest of the Lane gang. It's not like we don't have the best time ever when we do get together. Maybe a virtual stomping ground will keep us in the loop of all the goings-on in each other's lives. This was the best way I could truly honor her memory.

Do me a favor. Make a phone call to someone this weekend, any one of your friends or family members that you haven't spoken to in a while, just to catch up. Let me know how it goes.

---

Lane 1 has worked every available hour, since his 16th birthday, for this day. He has put half of every paycheck into a special account. Now, my son is the proud owner of a 1985 Dodge Omni.

Amazingly enough, he loves his car. He calls it the golden bullet.

I bought my first car when I was 17, six months older than he is now. It was a 1978 Plymouth Horizon hatchback, which looked very much like his, only mine was blue. It had almost 200,000 miles on it, and his only has 84,000.

For the low, low price of $675 it was all mine. He only paid $400 for his, leaving plenty of his saved money in the bank. Mine was the smallest, dirtiest, smelliest, non-workingest car you've ever seen. But, it was mine. It had the smell of old car, mold, dust, cigarettes and pine tree air freshener, just like his.

Unlike my first, his was owned by one person. You guessed it, a little old lady who kept it safely in the garage during the winter and drove it to the local market, bingo parlor and church in decent weather. The body is in amazing shape, unlike mine. He appreciates his so much more than I did mine back in the day.

When Lane 1 and his father pulled up in that car, Lane 2 tried so hard to not laugh. I warned her one day she too would drive a beater and feel proud. We ran outside to greet them. Lane 1 welcomed us in to take a cruise. My internal mother system went into happiness overdrive when I noticed the speedometer only went up to 80. Although 80 mph is fast, chances are a car that old won't be able to go top-speed often.

"80, huh?"

"You know, Mom, it says 80, but it means 55. Lucky for me if I'm going down hill at top-speed it hits almost 70!"

His excitement brought me back to a time when my 3-year-old son zoomed his Hot Wheels cars over my arms and the top of my head, using me as his race track. I miss that little boy as I look at the man before me.

His car ran really well. And that son of mine just couldn't stop smiling. As scared as I was for this day to come, I believe it was relatively painless compared to what my mind had conjured.

He dropped me and Lane 2 off and drove to his friend's house...three houses down.

Bill and a few other friends who also recently got their first beaters, started a "club." Lane 1 asked if he could join "The Beater Brothers." (I believe there's a double entendre joke in there somewhere.)

Lane 1 said to Bill, "So, here's my beater. Can I be in the club now?"

Bill said, "Dude, with that car, you can be the leader of The Beater Brothers."

So it is with profound motherly pride, that I present you with...






...the leader of the pack. Can I get a "Vroom, vroom!" from the congregation?!

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Unfaithful

(Update posted Friday 6 a.m., see below.)

Me and my old beav are still writing like the wind, hoping and praying Rosie O'Donnell jumps on the RoLo bandwagon. I wonder if you guys realize how badly I want this opportunity. I wonder if you're aware of measures I've taken, besides the run-of-the-mill stalking, mentioned at Home Fires. I've tried everything you can think of plus about 12 other things that no one in their right mind could conjure up.

I've created almost 100 character and sketch concepts in three weeks. I keep writing because, I still feel ready and right for this show. I know it isn't going to be a one-time special, and poof... gone forever. I believe NBC will pick it up as a weekly show. I believe they are waiting for rating numbers to come in, which means, even if I hear nothing for three more weeks, I'll be asking you all to tune in to the show so it can become a reality for me. With the world in such a crazy state, we need laughter. And if we can get it during prime-time rather than having to stay up all night, that will be a bonus.

Okay, so enough about that for now. I was so happy that so many of you admitted to balding and gray haired hoochie-coos. You never cease to amaze me when I over share. And I do apologize for any mental image you were unable to shake.

Outside of all this writing, I've been planning a birthday party for my girl. She is going to be 14 Monday. Can you believe that? I can't. As the kids get closer to being at the age of self-sufficiency, I am forced to take a hard long look at my own life. I have so many things I want and need to do.

Want. Need. Need. Want.

As you know, some times life has a way of throwing you a curve ball. Long time readers of this blog will note many a curve ball tossed in my general direction. Sometimes, exactly what you hoped, happens. Other times, it is something that can put you in a state of shock because you are simply unable to wrap your head around the concept.

Love is the same way. You give of your heart and hope to get the same in return. You can find yourself at a crossroad even in love, but what do you do? Are you supposed to suck it up? Hope the feelings come back? Hope for better days? Deny days that have been less than adequate? Can you actually admit that the love you once had isn't as strong as it used to be? Or should be? Or as strong as you want it to be?

When does a person know for sure that a relationship is over? And if it is a relationship that has given you a lot of happiness, should it really end? What if you look back years from now and think it wasn't worth ending? Is hindsight really 20/20, or is it more like 60 Minutes?

Where is the line in trivial? What is trivial when it comes to your love?

I hope none of you think differently of me, or judge me. It has taken me months to be honest about this, and I'm putting this out there because I feel guilty, and wanted to turn to you. But why is there so much happiness in my guilt? Maybe I'm fickle. I never thought I was before now. Is it even possible to be head-over-heels in love one day and out the next? Like being a contestant on Project Runway, facing Heidi Klum, "In fashion, one day you're in. And the next, you're out. Auf Wiedersehen!"

Can you really give the Auf Wiedersehen treatment to one you've loved so deeply?




Here's a photo of the day we said goodbye. He got a nice hand job wash, wax, and Armor Alling to his bra, seats, dash, etc., before I kissed his beautiful hood goodbye. You can see why I loved him so, can't you?




Here I am torn between two lovers. I'll admit, I was feeling like a fool.

(don't judge the car washing outfit of choice, the poor cell-phone-quality of these photos, or my hair being in a knot on top of my head, or the fact that I was in terrible need or a dye job, or that I was not wearing makeup, socks and or shoes, or wearing my breast cancer awareness bra, the one that has the lumps in the padding, giving my boobs the wave effect)




And here I am with my new love. A 300C, with a hemi?! A smart V8, that cuts back to 4 cylinders when driving on the highway to save gas?! Are you freakin' kidding me?!?!? It was that dream car you might be afraid to dream of based on the sticker shock alone. How could I not fall in love, people? I am only human. Yes, made of flesh and blood, human.

* UPDATE: After waiting three weeks for a response from ANYONE, Janette Barber, answered the email I sent to her "Contact Janette" section of her blog. She is not only a close friend of Rosie O'Donnell's but she has worked with her several times, and is writing for her new show.

Here's what she said, "Hi Lois...I'm beyond swamped right now so only skimmed your email. There is not an opportunity to write on the special but if we go further I would be happy to take a submission from you. I can give you more detail on that and read more about you when I have a minute. Just wanted you to know I've gotten the email and will address when I can. :)janette"

There is always hope. First line, not so hopeful, but what follows, tells me there is hope for something soon. Her email reiterates what I mentioned above. If you and everyone you know, tunes in to the special, November 26th on NBC, the ratings will be through the roof, and I will really have a chance to fulfill my dream. The show is expected to be reminiscent of the Carol Burnett Show and other fun varieties from when TV was good.

Right now I am going to brush up on all I've written over the last three weeks. I'll choose my favorites, format them and maybe toss in a little rewriting. I will be ready to pass along material I am very proud of when she makes contact again. As I complete them, I'd love to bounce the ideas off of someone. A lot of times, things are funny in my head but others just don't get the joke. I need to make sure I am not presenting anything that isn't topnotch. If you think you can be totally honest and would like a sneak peek into my mind, email your phone number to me at nonewz_1972@yahoo.com.