Still Kickin'

Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. The miracle elixir, Hot & Sour Soup, has saved me to whine another day. HH seems to have benefited from his twice-a-day cough medicine regimen. He is as cranky as all get-out. Which means he is back to normal. Maybe the antibiotics had something to do with it. Or the 36 hours of sleep.

Tomorrow, the #1 son goes to the optometrist. I'm sure he needs glasses. I had no inkling until The Pony got his, and #1 kept swiping them off his face to watch TV. "I can't believe how CLEAR it is, Mom." Go figure. I thought they did vision screening every year at school. That's how we knew to take The Pony for his eye exam. Then a student in my class said, "Oh, the school nurse that retired? She only had us read the first two lines. Over half of the elementary got those notices this year." It must be true. The students always know these things before HM.

Enough of this. Now let's get back to ME. I ordered tickets to see Kathy Griffin on Feb. 10. My niece tipped me off. I had no idea Kathy was coming to town. My niece is 18, and a big fan. I even loaned her my Kathy Griffin DVDs. She has quite a potty mouth. Kathy, not my niece. She will be at the Fabulous Fox Theater. I've been there before to see Joan Rivers, and Marie Osmond, and Randy Travis, and the Oak Ridge Boys. The bad news is, we're taking HH as our driver. He knows his way around the city. I can barely make it to Lindbergh. I was born without a sense of direction. Like HH was born without a funny bone. He's not going to like Ms. Griffin. I can hear him now. "That's entertainment for morons." Or he might say 'Mormons'. Words are not HH's friends.

I mentioned yesterday that the boys and I went to see National Treasure 2. It was not as good as the original. In fact, the premise seemed a bit of a stretch. I still don't get the beginning, like whose name they are clearing, and why. That Nic Cage solves those clues way too fast. What is he, some kind of history savant? Or maybe he IS, and that's what the movie is about. Every time I see Jon Voight, I split my time between wondering who is crazier, him or his daughter, and thinking about the Seinfeld episode where George thought he bought a car previously owned by Jon Voight. And that little assistant guy is still cute as a bug's ear, but I never know his real name. I have problems with the ending. We're to believe that after all these years, the rock of that balancing thingy is unstable and cracks away, but the vines holding the decaying rungs of that ladder together are strong enough for four people to jump on. Those crafty Olmecs must have woven some steel cable into that ladder. Oh, and when I see Ed Harris, I think he just might be imaginary, like he was in A Beautiful Mind.

That's really all that's in my head today. Maybe tomorrow you will get your overdue Random Thought Thursday.