GOING BANANAS

Ever since I had to have potassium mainlained into my left arm at a hospital emergency room four years ago, I have made certain that I eat at least one banana each day. Never miss. Having potassium flow quickly into your veins makes your arm burn and feel like it's going to blow up, so I never want to have to go through that again. Eating a banana a day is a small trade-off.

There is a big bonus around our house for saving our "nanners." In our kitchen Big Bore has a treasured plastic container marked "Banana Peels." Not too long after I eat them, those peels end up somewhere around a plant outside--the rose bush, peony bushes, in his turnip patch, wherever he thinks a little bit of fertilizing "oomph" is needed. He even brought in his red pepper plants once the weather turned cold, overdosed them with banana peels, and they've been producing all winter long.

Banana nut bread, banana pudding, plain old bananas---bring 'em on! Today's motto: "Be like a monkey." Happy peeling.

IN HIS EYES

Trouble #1, the five-year-old next door, recently had me create his personal cartoon character and this is how he perceives himself. From the looks of it, you'd think we're living among the cave demons, but he's actually a sweetheart (most of the time) with big brown eyes and more energy than a kid really needs. We are lucky to have the One-Eyed Skateboarding Rock Star (and his dog, Clueless) on our block to protect us from the forces of evil.

LITTLE RASCALS

This is my favorite picture, circa mid-1950s, of two of my favorite childhood playmates. Brothers Pat and Jan are the two bookends here; Pat, the cat lover, is a year younger than I am, Jan, the cowboy, a year older. They lived two houses from me on 9th Street, where we played softball games, rode bikes, played hide-n-seek--partners in grime of the third degree.

I most enjoyed climbing trees with them. They had a fun silver maple in their front yard, and out back was a mulberry tree. It provided fat, juicy ammunition for mulberry wars with other neighbor kids. The more red stains on the body, the better. We once declared revenge on an older boy who was visiting his grandfather across the alley. This evil kid had shot and killed a robin with his b-b gun, and then after Pat, Jan, and I had buried the bird and given it the appropriate send-off to heaven, he had the nasty nerve to dig it up! Well, the mulberries were put into service, and that b-b-toting grave robber got his comeuppance. After his pummeling, he never bothered the birds on our turf again! Don't mess with us--or our critters!

I still hear from Pat and Jan periodically. Jan is a lawyer and Pat is, quite ironically, a maker of gravestones--inspired, no doubt, from those days of calamity once upon a time on 9th Street. A little girl couldn't have asked for two better buddies.

STICK IT

From the makers of Sham-Wow comes the latest in handy-dandy products that I just gotta have---Schticky!! My niece Brooke sent me an email yesterday with a video commercial of this lint roller, paper towel, duster, bug exterminator all in one and if it's really real, which I think it is, I'm calling that 1-800 number and getting schticky-with-it as soon as possible.

Hilariously pitched by huckster Vince Offer, Schticky is pretty much the next best thing since electricity and the flush toilet. Not only does it pick up lint and dandruff, it rolls away food crumbs on hubby's bulging tummy--"Schtick it to your husband!" And if you have a "problem with your shedding pussy?" then Schticky will pick up that unwanted cat hair in a single sweep. It works on all kinds of fabrics "any time, any place, on anyone!"

Schticky is coated with a special silicone substance that is "slippery when wet and sticky when dry." And WAIT---Schticky comes in three sizes: besides Schticky, there's Little Schticky, and Big Schticky! All three for only $19.95 (plus shipping and handling). Schticky picks up those dust bunnies under furniture, cobwebs on the ceiling, and best of all, in my house anyway, kitty litter!!! There's even a special brush attachment to dig into carpeting. Why, I'll never have to vacuum again! Of course, I don't vacuum in the first place--Big Bore will never have to vacuum again!

So, although Vince Offer looks and sounds about as honest as an escaped bank-robbing lunatic, I'm going to do as he says and clean my home quickie and buy myself a Schticky--even if it is too good to be true.

SIMPLY AMAZING

Last night the television viewing offerings were truly AMAAAAAAZING!

First off, I suffered through two hours of "The Bachelor." This week's first date was hands-down the most AMAZING date in Bachelor history. Also the most frightening, dizzying, and stomach-wrenching. What gal doesn't want a romantic first date climbing to the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, struggling 764-feet skyward on those cables, ready to hurl at any moment?

The show's writers scripted every metaphor possible for Bachelor Ben and Bachelorette Emily to recite during this AMAZING expedition. "Bridges being two things together." "Move forward in our relationship." "Take our relationship to new heights." "Coming together across a bridge of love." "Overcoming challenges will make a stronger unit." Really? Does this mean Ben has a weak unit? AMAZING!

Next, A shirtless Bachelor Ben then went on an AMAZING group date, skiing on man-made snow down a slightly declining San Francisco street with a bevy of babes in bikinis. Of course, none of these bunnies knew the first thing about skiing, and the viewing audience got to see lots of flying butt and AMAZING crotch shots as they teetered along. If the bridge date was a new high in "The Bachelor" history, then this date was a new, X-rated low. I hope someone sanitized the skis once it was over.

Well, since I can't take my eyes off this trainwreck of a show, I got through the rest of the episode in San Francisco--tears, fainting, bitchy surprise houseguest and all. Then it was on to something REALLY AMAZING!!!! The Kansas University Jayhawks vs. the unbeaten Baylor Bears! Now known as the previously-unbeaten Baylor Teddy Bears because the 'Hawks took their game to new heights (borrowing a line from "The Bachelor") and slam dunked the opponent, 92-74! Best team performance of the season, by far. It was such a runaway win that I didn't even have to swallow any tegretol or xanax to get me through it. Now that's AMAZING!

"Rock, chalk and--Put your shoes on!"

CATCHING ON

Yesterday afternoon Sweet Neighbor Girl came over to "play" two different times. We read aloud an article in the newspaper and then looked through a Ripley's Believe It Or Not book. When I was a kid, Ripley's made little $.25 paperback editions that Brother Beans and I would flip through while passing away time and gas in the bathroom. But now huge tomes are published, with colored pictures of every freak-a-zoid imaginable--the human pin cushion, lizard man, wolf girl, you name it. After Sweet Neighbor Girl shouted "eeeewwwww" about 50 times, I finally told her just to take the book home and read it at her leisure.

But she was back in a few hours--this time with an empty picture frame. I can take a hint, so we went to the computer, opened her photo folder, and she selected a picture to be printed up and put into the frame. One of her with her sister and puppy before the cute little mutt became a certified monster. After that we went outside to re-hang snowflakes that had blown off the snowflake tree (not to be confused with the bottle tree) earlier in the week.

Big Bore was out working in the garage, and when he saw us he brought out a plastic bag and said, "Here's something for you two to have fun with." It was the old Catch Phrase game that I thought I had tossed out the previous Sunday when I'd put the house on a diet and thrown away useless "stuff." Apparently he'd seen it in the trash, retrieved it, and set it aside.

I told Sweet Neighbor Girl how to play the word game, complete with its obnoxious beeper, and she was immediately hooked. I used to have it in my classroom for my sophomores to play if/when we had some free time at the end of the week, and it was always a rousing hit. So SNG and I sat in the grass on this beautiful afternoon and got silly describing words and phrases to each other. When it was time for her to go home, I told her to keep the game. "Catch Phrase it all yours." She was happy to have it and I was happy to get rid of it at last.

But Big Bore was right about giving the game a second life, and I admitted to him that I was wrong. From now on, nothing gets tossed without his full approval. The house diet has ended.

NUTS ALL OVER

Yesterday I attended the 5th Annual Fredonia High School Class of 1967 Martin Luther King Weekend Luncheon at the Altoona Prairie Nut Hut. The two nuts I'm pictured with above are a psychologist and a bank president. We've been pals since first grade. Actually, the banker and I have known each other since we were barely out of diapers and I have a picture to prove it, although my memory doesn't go back that far.

Twenty classmates and nine relatives were present for the astute affair in a little town that is nine miles east of our hometown. One gal, Lady Kayle, came all the way from the Dallas/Fort Worth area to be there, although we've never been able to convince her to give up her virginity and dig in to a nut sandwich. I told her we should give her a prize for coming the farthest--perhaps a gift certificate for a Hopping Nut Basket--a load of frog legs and mountain oysters for those who just can't get enough of odd fried food. Until she breaks down and goes nutty, she'll never be able to wear an "I had a ball at the Prairie Nut Hut" tee-shirt, something I'm certain she's anxious to add to her wardrobe.

I presented the owner with a framed picture of a class gathering we had at the hut almost 45 years ago. She did a good job faking her excitement. Eight "kids" in the pic were at yesterday's gathering, and I was uber-pleased when some quail hunters at the bar correctly identified me right off the bat. "Great beehive you had there!" one said. "You must have done lots of teasing to get it to look that good." Since I no longer have a lick of vanity, or sense for that matter, I admitted to them that part of it was fake.

Well, anyway, it was fun to see the gang once again and laugh about old times and new aches and pains. Here's to the Class of 1967!!