Royal Hula Hooping

A "royal" wedding in Nebraska

“The royal engagement and upcoming wedding is the most televised wedding this year!” a newswoman ranted one morning this week. Really? The most televised? Wow! Maybe because it’s the only wedding story you’ve chosen to broadcast. What about the thousands of commoner weddings taking place everyday all around the world? Why don’t they get any coverage? Aren’t they royal enough?

The news outlets can’t seem to stop talking about it. They continue to spout a deluge of useless drivel and information through the television set into my home and yours, day after day after day. Obviously this one young couple is more newsworthy than the mess in Libya, job loss, our failing economy, or the fact that Easter Sunday was about Christ rising from the dead and not what the English royalty did this past weekend to prepare for their awesome wedding. 

Do I sound peeved? Perhaps because I am. The media sucks up to every Hollywood movie star, the rich and famous, and anyone who has ever been on a reality show and eaten a bug, and tries to make us believe that they do it for us, because of course we also want to know everything about these awesome creatures. It’s like we’re studying the nocturnal habits of bats for college credit.

Donkeys do the hoopla, why don't you?

I know some of you romantic types probably think 24 hour a day wedding trivia on fourteen different channels is well worth your time. But I’m of a different opinion. I think weddings are for family and friends, not world-wide hoopla. Don’t you just love that word? Hoopla. It makes me think of the royal couple hula hooping at their dance party.  I doubt they would ever try something so fun, even though it’s a great idea. They’d have to rehearse and make sure they don’t look foolish or unroyal. After all, they had to practice their balcony kiss for just that reason. Or so the media reported…

The sad thing about this media blitz is that I can’t even remember their names. I just think of them as the early-balding royal son and his hat-wearing girlfriend. I’m sure he has one of those king names like George or William or Arthur of the round table, but for the life of me I don’t know what it is.

Thank goodness our king’s daughters aren’t old enough to get married! Can you imagine the hoopla if that happened?!

Signs of Spring

Here we are again. Spring is in the air, everyone is eagerly coming out of their cocoons after the long, hard winter and what is the first thing I see – besides glow-in-the-dark white arms and legs sticking out of shirt sleeves and shorts – a crazy person downtown on the street corner, dressed like the statue of liberty, trying to wave customers into their place of business to have their taxes done.

Personally, I don’t trust grownups dressed in silly costumes to promote a product or service. They kind of freak me out. I don’t even like the characters at Disney world. Now if they were small I might not have a problem with them, but I don’t think a mouse, a duck, and a dog should be so large and scary. And the painted-ladies (princesses) are even worse. But that’s just me. I don’t like clowns, and costumed adults are just clowns in disguise.

I’m not sure why a tax business would use the Statue of Liberty as a symbol of paying taxes anyway. Most people try to pay as little as possible, wait till the very last minute to send it in, and despise politicians who waste that hard-earned money on their own personal agendas rather than for the good of the people. Liberty is the farthest thing from anyone’s mind when they pay their taxes. Perhaps a man dressed like a slug or a leach would be more appropriate. The government is sucking us dry.

New fashions always come out in the Spring as well. Personally, I think the Bay City Rollers style will be making a comeback any day now. 

Speaking of style--I saw a girl walking in short shorts, a tank top, and fur-covered boots today. Not sure if she was just being prepared for the snow forecast on Friday, or she has naturally cold feet.

I took the dogs in for their annual checkup, shots, and heartworm test. Came home much poorer, wondering why I didn’t adopt a farm dog. Farm dogs know they won’t live long. A tractor, truck, wild animal, or shotgun could take their life at any moment. They are working dogs. They live life to the fullest, jumping in ponds, wallowing in mud, and eating dead things, but don’t bother with preventative measures to extend their years on this earth.

City dogs expect good food, clean beds (preferably yours), and to live to be a nuisance in their old age. They don’t work; they just lounge around and get underfoot. They actually expect free healthcare and a chicken in every pot.

Another sign of Spring is the screaming children in neighboring yards. The child next door must have screamed “Daddy” at the top of her shrill voice at least four hundred times before she either gave up, ruined her voice box for life, or her father finally opened the locked door and let her in. I’m not sure which. I closed my window and crawled under my desk with my hands covering my ears.

Another sign of spring is getting stuck behind a tractor or some extra-wide piece of farm equipment on the highway. I drove fifteen mph behind a machine that looked like a really large torture device for about 2 miles and it only seemed like 20. That’s torture. We weren’t even driving fast enough to feel the wind in our hair. Rugby had his head sticking out the window and his ears didn’t even flop around.

Have you noticed any signs of emerging Spring? Leave a comment and tell us about them.