A Special Message to Congress on Health Care

Last night, the little woman comes to the back porch were I can be found, how should I say, isolating. It’s actually a fun past time. She says, “Dang, your computer is SOOO powerful and you’re SOOO big and strong and you’re my handsome master and can do anything, can you hook up the microphone so I can record something from a book I got. (?????????)

I’m like looking at her –/– squinty eyes and all. And she’s all :). I says, with some large degree of apprehension because I rarely, okay never, get called her handsome master, “Okay,” I say. She asks, “When?” And I says, “Now?”

So I dial-up the Atom’s Family computer and plug in the mic. I show her how to futz with a few dials and get it all set up. “Here honey, all set.”

I go back to the porch and take a swig of Sterling Vineyards Merlot and light up a cigarette. To your horror, yes I smoke, never during the day but lately it’s been getting out of control.

I hear the little woman in the next room in this very hypnotic seductive voice:

“Relax, let your body just relax. In the next few minutes, I’m going to get you relaxed so you can concentrate on quitting smoking. Now rub your index finger and your thumb during this recording each time you have a craving…”

About a half hour later I hear, “Honey, I made a CD for you!”

Maybe I’ll see about recording a little of it and getting it on this blog. It’s quite good actually.

Dog Day Afternoon

When you get a belated birthday card from one of your wife’s old “guy friends” whom you’ve never met and couldn’t pick out of a crowd if you had to and whom you know would eat the cookies from the cookie jar if given half the chance, how are you suppose to handle that?

I don’t actually have title to my wife. I have a marriage certificate, but as you know that doesn’t mean ownership, WHAT-SO-EVERRR. That means she gets oil changes and car washes for free, curbside garbage delivery and a pass on the weekends for a little RT (retail therapy).

I put my foot down this weekend. I said, “What's with the every weekend you go shopping Saturday and Sunday or volunteer at SPCA thingie. You got a boy friend?” (BIG SMILE cracks on her face because I know she likes me to be jealous and all). So, then I get a little more firm and the next thing I know I get a WAY BIG argument to follow and lip service.

Little woman: “I need my space. I listen to people’s S**T all day long (she’s a mental health therapist) and more than half of them aren't ever going to get any better because they’re CRAZY! I BUST MY ASS doing x,y and z. (The x,y, and z part always gets me). And you’re giving me a BUTT LOAD for spending a little time shopping by myself?”

“NO,” I says, “I’m giving you a butt load for sleeping in til 10:00 on the weekends, jumping on the computer when you get up, me delivering you coffee while you surf until noon and then go get held up Dog Day Afternoon in the bathroom for two hours primping and preening, jumping in your ride and dashing off to thrift stores taking inventory until 4:00 while I’m BUSTING MY ASS feeding animals and cooking and stuff!”

She says, “Well, you watch football all day Sunday.”

And I says, “Okay, what about Saturday?” [Sorry, football is not negotiable. That’s like the sacred cow]. “Honey, you’re 48 years old, don’t you think you’re a little too old to be calling your mother?”

MIL: “Ron! How are the ducks?”

Ron: “They’re ducky?”

MIL: “Good. Listen, she needs her space. We love you, you’re important to the family and you’re so handsome. I love it when you write Love Ron on my birthday cards.”

Ah HA! Now I know how all this happened? There’s some girl code book out there guys don’t get to read.

Ron: Thanks. Oh and I’m fix’in to send your daughter home to you and you’ll have to DEAL WITH IT. I can tell you you’ll need two big MACK trucks just to haul all the crap she buys on the weekends to your house.

MIL: Don’t be silly. You kids kiss and make up. Bye-bye, love you.

So, back to the original question. What do you do to a guy in his 60’s you never met whom use to hang out with your wife and whom sends you a freak’in birthday card? Do you thank him or break his legs?

ADD Weigh-In

Attention Deficit Disorder

In reading favorite mom blogs, the issue of ADD surfaces from time-to-time. As your child begins to develop into a thinking and learning peeps, complete with their own functioning bouncing off the walls personality, the signs of ADD appear one day and you wonder, oh-oh, does junior have ADD? What am I to do?

At last, here is a topic I know a little something about, and I don’t usually know too much about something.

ADD is the GREAT Pretender. I’m reminded of an old joke I heard about Sigmund Freud when asked by a patient, “What does it mean when I dream about cigars?” His response, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.” Your child will from time-to-time match most of the indicators of ADD. I won’t go into them, because you know what they are and have done the research, if not, visit http://www.chadd.org/. I assure you, by the time you get all the info, you yourself will feel you have it. And know what, most of us have it, just a little bit, ever so often.

The way you find out for sure is you need a thorough examination by a “trained” therapist and then a diagnosis by a psychiatrist. They are not one in the same. A therapist treats behaviors, a psychiatrist prescribes medication. It’s gotten to a point where psychiatrists are more of a brain chemistry engineer. This is not an exact science unfortunately. It’s not like they can look under the hood. If the behaviors are easy to document, the child is put on meds and then observed.

There is a problem with that. The meds physically hurt. I was put on Ritalin at age 42 when I was first diagnosed. Oh, did I happen to mention I’m a poster child for ADD? When you F-up your life and not know why until counseling occurs for an unrelated divorce and your therapist says, can I see you by yourself for a little while, and then a psychiatrist says five days later, “Yeah buddy, you’re off the charts, you need to get on this,” and your life really changes, Bingo, we have a winner, you can be certain, you are ADD. I had no idea what ADD was when the diagnosis occurred. Back to the main story, (See how I drifted and went off message there and forced myself to get back on message. I do that). Anyway, the meds hurt. They physically hurt your joints and your muscles and it is actually quite painful at first. Then about 15 minutes after taking it you’re at 30,000 feet feeling pretty good, then about a couple of hours after that you lose altitude real fast and start to rebound and then you’re worse than you were before you took the meds. So, you got to get back on it real fast. There are slower time released meds like Adderal but essentially it is the same. Not to mention the oily, icky, drug addict feeling you have from day-to-day. Things even smell weird. There are other meds, some non-stimulant, but beware, make sure you know the side effect profile, some are for depression, some just make your child drowsy and how much fun is that?

Why meds? Well, primarily they are for stimulation. My motto is “stimulation is my friend.” When I was a kid I use to climb trees all the way to the top, and do stuff like climb on the roof of my house and jump off. Adrenalin is a stimulant too. There is a big pre-frontal lobe awakening story that goes with this and I’ll spare you the details, because I’m not altogether sure how all that works. Perhaps Dr. Cason can elaborate more on that. The main reason is for the people around them. Yes, I said that. I believe teachers and parents and relatives rush to medicate because they don’t want to mess with it. The interference meds might have over prolonged use to retrain behaviors is not measurable and some doctors are concerned meds can have an adverse impact on brain development.

The good news, most children grow out of it. There are some lucky few like me who deals with it every day. I’m off meds BTW and have been for about five years now. I had to work on routines and acknowledge when I’m getting a little attention seeking, bored, distracted and the other stuff. I have learned to force myself to settle down. I have a hook by the door to place my keys on when I come in. My wife’s name for the longest time was, “Honey, have you seen my keys?” I unplug coffee pots on the way out and those kinds of things. Make sure I have a detailed grocery list when I go shopping because I go to isle 1, then isle 8, then isle 3, then produce, then back to isle 1. It takes me three times longer to shop than you. Oh, the list goes on.

I am proud I have ADD. I have to. What am I going to say, there is something wrong with me? There is something right with me. I can sit down and write a song in an hour. Try that, I dare you. I have always gravitated to higher management levels at work because I don’t get bogged down in the minutia, I’m not linear, I can see the whole machine moving at one time. I usually have good solutions. I'm a REAL social guy. And I really don’t need you to have a good time. I can have a party all by myself and ask you to leave if you’re not cooperating. Remember, I live my life “OUTSIDE THE BOX.”

The best treatment for ADD: multi-modal approach, patience, knowledge and awareness of it, accept you will never change it and a strong dose of humor. Humor is also my friend.

The pic below is of me and a student named Stephen. I volunteered at a therapeutic riding center for many years. Stephen is ADD real bad. I’m trying to get him to focus on holding on the reigns and steer the horse by himself. Not very much luck that day. When that pic was taken Stephen is telling me a big ole long story about everything.

My Sweet Mr. Lady

She wrote:

“I can’t explain to you how Ron and I met, and I can’t explain to you the complexity of our friendship, because there are some things in life that one just is forever at a loss for words about. But Ron, I am so very happy to know you, to have had you share my journey through life with me here, on these pages. I wish you the happiest of birthdays and peace and love..”

Well, let me take a shot at it.



A. Picture above. Her husband is ULTRA cool, fish’in kinda bud, he loves her. Can’t you tell?! Let’s bust some lips fish’in some day dude. You’re a good man.
B. Picture above. She has got the sweetest smile and I fell head over heels for her the first minute I saw her. So did her husband.
C. She!! Is about as intuitive as a F22 Stealth Raptor complete with advanced radar tracking device.
D. She has THE most prettiest babies.
E. She was a little putz when I first started reading her blog and she was way out of her league.
F. THEN, she started getting real and it was like I fell all in love with her again. She started going deeper in focus.
G. I have fallen in love with her several times since then.
H. THE REASON I fall in love with her is, shit I don’t know, she’s just F-ing clever.
I. AND SHE, is a complete experienced life babe, had some hard knocks and keeps coming back.
J. AND I just wonder WTF has she next? She’s kinda like Julie Newmar, the original Cat Woman from Batman, I knew Julie when we took class together at American Ballet Theater on Saturday mornings, what a hottie. I L’s Julie even now at THE NEW 70. Incidentally, it was in the 70's when we took class. Sorry Mr. Lady. A story for another day. [Oh take me back to another day! I am so boinging here.]

K. AND Mr. Lady just defies gravity and I predict, will be famous one day.
L. Am I running out of alphabets yet?
M. M is for Mo Mama, give me Mo Mama.
N. N is for Nope Ron,shut up and sit down, you’re a Nope.
O. O is for OH my, like in the old movies when the woman put her hand to her mouth and said, Oh MY.”
P. P is for Perfect.
Q. Q is for Quizno’s in case anyone needs a sandwich right about now.
R. R is obviously for Ron, that would be me.
S. S is for SHIT!!!
T. T is for Ta-Tas in the BWEB contest. Love those Bwebs.
U. U is for underwear, which I never wear, yes my pipe is always hanging. Silver Fox with pipe. Get it?
V. V is for voluptuous. Don’t make me W on this anymore.
W. W is for Way Babe, which Mr. Lady is. My way babe.
X. X is for extreme, which is a sand box Mr. Lady loves to toss.
Y. Y is for WHY did I buy Zymos at 3 1/8 when the stock fucking market took such a nose dive and Zymos went to 1 and 5/8s. I lost my ass.
Z. Z is for Zelda my new dog, the ugliest junk yard dog you ever saw…and me and the honey loves her.



Mr. Lady is a compete babe and I will fight anyone who says anything different. I’m talk’in hit you and then pop a .38 cap in your butt kinda fight you. Anybody got a problem with that?

I didn’t think so.

Noah's Dove

I wrote this song and recorded it with my classical guitar. It was written to articulate musically the three flights of Noah's Dove.

Copyright © 2008 Ducks Mahal, All Rights Reserved.

Self Birthday Card

On this day, in the year of 1956, at ≈ O’3:00 a.m. hours, I was released into this world in human form (aka born).

I say released because Jewish mysticism says there is a Guf or a Hall or Well of Souls. The lore is, the Messiah is not to come to earth until the Hall has been completely emptied. Well, we humans tend to put together a lot of stories and get them just a little misshapen. Regardless, okay?, I jumped in from somewhere, and landed on Earth, and not all together somewhere I would have chosen if my travel agent had recommended it!!!

These are the seven things I have learned while here in the 52 years of life. Sum total:

1. I got into trouble.

2. I had to figure out why and try not to repeat it.

3. I did marvelous and amazing things too, but couldn’t repeat them if I tried with all my might.

4. I married once, 19 years to a person I never knew - entirely. I have an apology letter written for her and will send it when the time is right.

5. I married twice, 7 years to person I know better than myself. I have an apology letter for her as well. Mostly, thank you for the patience and the great perogies.

6. I have a soul I found between the two, I never had the chance to know until then. No apologies that would be me.

7. As it stands, everything IS as it should be. All is what it is, mostly for reasons out of our control, Oh AND how I have tried to control – that which will not submit. It is all as it should be for all our sakes.

From Thanatopsis, by William Cullen Bryant:

“When thoughts
Of the last bitter hour come like a blight
Over thy spirit, and sad images
Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall,
And breathless darkness, and the narrow house,
Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;--
Go forth, under the open sky, and list
To Nature's teachings, while from all around--
Earth and her waters, and the depths of air--
Comes a still voice”

I witnessed an event the other day that reminded me that even as a prayerful Christian, I still live in “The Animal Kingdom.” The laws of the jungle exist. And that too, is, as it should be.

And on this day as I do declare my birth, I see Heaven.

Thanatopsis continued:

“So live, that when thy summons comes to join
The innumerable caravan which moves
To that mysterious realm where each shall take
His chamber in the silent halls of death,
Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night,
Scourged by his dungeon; but, sustain'd and soothed
By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave,
Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch
About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.”

If you be under 50 years old this note will seem depressing to you. If you be over 50, you will hopefully agree there is a day when we court our death as much as our life and come to terms with it as an end, not a regret.

The MOST important of all is I knew you; and we, I’m sure of this, for I choose no spiritually poor companions, will meet someday in a magical place.

Until then, let’s pray I pull off one or two more marvelous and amazing things before the arthritis kicks in.

Thank you for reading my self birthday card. Many blessings to you.

Now, I have sushi and a plum wine waiting.

Audubon Ron

Lost

OPEN THE POD DOORS HAL!

Hal 1000: I.Can't.Do.That.Ron.

Open the pod door Hal.

Hal 1000: I.Can't.Do.That.Ron.

I was tweeking one thing, then tweeked another thing then the next thing I was poof.

I wish I could blame it on bloging and drinking.

Not sure what it was I did but let me say, my fingers move faster than my dialup, and I guess I hit a button I wasn't suppose to and I don't know what I'll do now. Let's see how we feel.

Maybe another blog center.