It will be very, very rarely that I ask you to do something for me via this blog.
But, this one is super important to me.
For the past several years, Mike and I have supported a charity called Smile Train. Smile Train has provided doctors in remote locations, such as China and India, with medical training to repair cleft lips.
Literally, in other countries, this deformity castrates its victims from society. Parents of children born with clefts think the children are cursed. It is only through repair that this misunderstanding can be reversed. Literally, once the repair is done, the "curse" is lifted.
ONE HUNDRED PERCENT of the money donated to Smile Train goes to training and cleft repair. And, for $250, a surgery is performed!
The next best alternative charity for cleft repairs, Operation Smile, does not train doctors locally, providing jobs in poorer countries, but ships doctors to medical sites. Therefore, the true value of the training is not local.
Also, because we've given to both charities in the past, I am privy to the information that Operation Smile does NOT use 100% of their donations to directly impact surgeries. Sadly, I can not find information on exactly what percentage does impact surgeries, but I can add that we've stopped donating to Operation Smile because of phone conversations I've had with their staff that were backhanded attempts at forcing me into giving to their charity.
SO, it is with great concern that I share that I want to help save Smile Train from being merged with Operation Smile.
Charles Wang has used underhanded, dirty, illegal tactics to force a merger that will eventually, if approved, funnel money into a "trust" that he would have control over, to the tune of over $100 MILLION DOLLARS. If Mr. Wang gets his greedy hands on this trust, children in remote parts of the world will never benefit from it. And, SOME OF THAT MONEY CAME FROM OUR HOUSE!
Because of a desperate money grab that a financially strapped Mr. Wang and associates are attempting to orchestrate, the very children we've sought to help will languish with a very easily repaired cleft, while Mr. Wang slowly uses the trust to keep his hockey team afloat. (See NY Times article below.)
More shocking is the fact that, even though this hasn't passed the hurdle of the Attorney General of New York, Operation Smile's website is heralding the merger as a done deal! They've even gotten Roma Downey to put her sweet name behind this injustice.
If you feel so inclined, you can sign a petition to stop this merger from taking place and, hopefully, put Smile Train back on track.* Simply go to http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/savesmiletrain/
I can not express the sorrow I feel thinking about my favorite charity being hijacked by a scumbag like Charles Wang. In case you want to know more about him, there are three articles at the bottom of this post that show his "illustrious" past.
In addition to any support you might show by signing the petition, I would genuinely appreciate you joining me in prayer, that justice would prevail in this situation and that Smile Train would be saved from a merger with Operation Smile, to the complete benefit of the children who desperately need their services.
Thank you for your consideration of this request.
New York Times Article: Opposition Arises to Charities’ Merger
http://tinyurl.com/4l6wzgj
(ABOUT CHARLES WANG -- WHO IS LUCKY HE'S NOT SHARING A CELL WITH A 300 LB. GORILLA OF A MAN NAMED TINY, IN MY HUMBLE OPINION. Dude, WHEN you are caught--DON'T DROP THE SOAP!)
Ultimate Injustice: More Shenanigans from Charles Wang
http://bit.ly/hlFW9j
Charles Wang's Messy Second Act: The ex-CEO of '90s highflier Computer Associates is trying real estate. But his past won't stay behind him
http://tinyurl.com/ya3emrv
As Charles Wang’s World Crumbles, Justice is Served
http://tinyurl.com/4suoh76
*Yes, even though I'm mad, I'm still fun of puns.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Great Wolf Lodge
The Great Wolf Lodge is aptly named. It is Great. It is a Lodge. There are Wolves.
This place is a cool concept. It works hard to be all-inclusive. And it does a great job.
In short, it's enterjoyment* to the max. With one big, fat exception: the beds.
We paid a small fortune to go to GWL. And it was worth every penny of it to see the kids have so much fun. But, my entire body is still gritching about those beds.
I mean, good golly, Miss Molly! Is it too much to ask for a mattress AND a box spring, not just a bunkie board? I understand Mattress Giant will sell you last year's model for a song!
Retrospectively, though, I think I understand why the beds were the way they were. Truly, when you have had your fill of the water park and have walked through the bazillion square feet underfoot to point a really cool wand at random pictures of medieval stuff so you can collect tokens and play a game called "Dragon Quest", you are beyond tired.
I can almost hear the conversation the executive design-team had: "So, what's the big deal about a mattress? After all the fun our guests will have, they'll be asleep in no time. The mattress really won't matter. So, let's pursue the CHEAPEST model on planet Earth."
Since, in my case, the biggest water ride became my Netti pot by shooting a gallon of water up my left nostril on my descent down the wall of the ride, the bed really DID matter. My sinus cavity was burning like crazy for a good hour after this happened. I could feel all those chemicals designed to render poo and pee molecules in the water "safe" just sitting in my sinus cavity, rubbing their little atoms together going "HAHAHAHAHAHA. ANOTHER VICTIM."
And, yes. Two weeks later, I am STILL recovering from that water bomb.
So, when it was time for bed, I was in pain from being violated by overly-chlorinated water. I didn't need another source of discomfort to aggravate me.
At first I thought I was uncomfortable because I needed to use the loo. So, I got up, did my business and returned to bed.
Then I thought I needed to blow my nose. Trucked it to the bathroom again, blew my nose until I thought I'd see brain material, and realized there was NOTHING coming out by air and the smell of chlorine. Back I schlepped it to the bed.
It was the third time I hit the bed that I realized it was designed for someone with no bones in their body. Because, if you didn't have bones in your hips or shoulders or knees, the bed would have been fine because nothing sharp or pointy would need cushioning. And, even though I have the benefit of three layers of cushioning from having three children, that wasn't helping.
Sadly, I realized in that moment, "I hate having bones."
I tossed and turned all night long. I'd wake up, turn over, turn over again, and then turn to the midpoint between my first and second overs. There was NO comfortable position.
Come morning, the fun started all over again. Literally, we were active from 9a.m. to 3p.m. Walking the building, getting in and out of the water, searching for clues. You name it, we did it.
By the time we hit the car, I KNEW the kids were going to sleep well that night. And, I was SO grateful. That meant Mike and I could have some "private" time together at an hour that didn't start with the word "eleven".
Because, even though we were paying for a hotel room, and hotel room + married couple = S.E.X., there was no privacy. And, frankly, I was afraid someone might bruise themselves on the mattress if we even tried to get intimate.
Problem was, by the time we made it home, everyone was cranky, including me and Mike. "Tired" and "hungry" were also in the air. Cranky + Tired + Hungry = one ugly trifecta of family misery.
Nickels actually said "Can I eat and go to bed?" It was 6p.m. I wanted to ask Mike the same question, but I knew I was the one who had to make dinner.
When I finally laid down on my bed around 7:30p.m., I audibly sighed. And pulled the covers all the way up underneath my neck. And smiled like a Cheshire cat for about three minutes.
When Mike walked in the room and saw me, he said "Are you glad to be home in your own bed?" To which I responded "Can you tell?"
Of course, within about ten minutes of being in bed, I was out like a light. And, the next day, and the subsequent 10 days after that? I've been sick, thanks to that nose shot of chlorine I didn't even ask for.**
Retrospectively, I think I would have had more fun if I had taken a couple hundred dollars, sent them through the shredder and stayed home in our own bed.
True to form though, in about six months, when our next child "earns" his trip to GWL, I will have forgotten all about this experience.
By then I will have purchased a proper nose plug. And, yes. You can laugh all you want when you see me.
At least that will alleviate one of the dimensions of sadism I'll experience when we return.
AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!***
*It's the fusion of entertainment and enjoyment, a phrase coined by one of the Nowell boys awhile back. And filed in the beaner for use later by MommaJ.
**I now understand what it must feel like to snort something up your nose. NO THANKS. I gave at GWL.
***That's the sound of the wolf in the water park that plays about every 15 minutes. It doesn't drive you COMPLETELY crazy...only partially.
This place is a cool concept. It works hard to be all-inclusive. And it does a great job.
In short, it's enterjoyment* to the max. With one big, fat exception: the beds.
We paid a small fortune to go to GWL. And it was worth every penny of it to see the kids have so much fun. But, my entire body is still gritching about those beds.
I mean, good golly, Miss Molly! Is it too much to ask for a mattress AND a box spring, not just a bunkie board? I understand Mattress Giant will sell you last year's model for a song!
Retrospectively, though, I think I understand why the beds were the way they were. Truly, when you have had your fill of the water park and have walked through the bazillion square feet underfoot to point a really cool wand at random pictures of medieval stuff so you can collect tokens and play a game called "Dragon Quest", you are beyond tired.
I can almost hear the conversation the executive design-team had: "So, what's the big deal about a mattress? After all the fun our guests will have, they'll be asleep in no time. The mattress really won't matter. So, let's pursue the CHEAPEST model on planet Earth."
Since, in my case, the biggest water ride became my Netti pot by shooting a gallon of water up my left nostril on my descent down the wall of the ride, the bed really DID matter. My sinus cavity was burning like crazy for a good hour after this happened. I could feel all those chemicals designed to render poo and pee molecules in the water "safe" just sitting in my sinus cavity, rubbing their little atoms together going "HAHAHAHAHAHA. ANOTHER VICTIM."
And, yes. Two weeks later, I am STILL recovering from that water bomb.
So, when it was time for bed, I was in pain from being violated by overly-chlorinated water. I didn't need another source of discomfort to aggravate me.
At first I thought I was uncomfortable because I needed to use the loo. So, I got up, did my business and returned to bed.
Then I thought I needed to blow my nose. Trucked it to the bathroom again, blew my nose until I thought I'd see brain material, and realized there was NOTHING coming out by air and the smell of chlorine. Back I schlepped it to the bed.
It was the third time I hit the bed that I realized it was designed for someone with no bones in their body. Because, if you didn't have bones in your hips or shoulders or knees, the bed would have been fine because nothing sharp or pointy would need cushioning. And, even though I have the benefit of three layers of cushioning from having three children, that wasn't helping.
Sadly, I realized in that moment, "I hate having bones."
I tossed and turned all night long. I'd wake up, turn over, turn over again, and then turn to the midpoint between my first and second overs. There was NO comfortable position.
Come morning, the fun started all over again. Literally, we were active from 9a.m. to 3p.m. Walking the building, getting in and out of the water, searching for clues. You name it, we did it.
By the time we hit the car, I KNEW the kids were going to sleep well that night. And, I was SO grateful. That meant Mike and I could have some "private" time together at an hour that didn't start with the word "eleven".
Because, even though we were paying for a hotel room, and hotel room + married couple = S.E.X., there was no privacy. And, frankly, I was afraid someone might bruise themselves on the mattress if we even tried to get intimate.
Problem was, by the time we made it home, everyone was cranky, including me and Mike. "Tired" and "hungry" were also in the air. Cranky + Tired + Hungry = one ugly trifecta of family misery.
Nickels actually said "Can I eat and go to bed?" It was 6p.m. I wanted to ask Mike the same question, but I knew I was the one who had to make dinner.
When I finally laid down on my bed around 7:30p.m., I audibly sighed. And pulled the covers all the way up underneath my neck. And smiled like a Cheshire cat for about three minutes.
When Mike walked in the room and saw me, he said "Are you glad to be home in your own bed?" To which I responded "Can you tell?"
Of course, within about ten minutes of being in bed, I was out like a light. And, the next day, and the subsequent 10 days after that? I've been sick, thanks to that nose shot of chlorine I didn't even ask for.**
Retrospectively, I think I would have had more fun if I had taken a couple hundred dollars, sent them through the shredder and stayed home in our own bed.
True to form though, in about six months, when our next child "earns" his trip to GWL, I will have forgotten all about this experience.
By then I will have purchased a proper nose plug. And, yes. You can laugh all you want when you see me.
At least that will alleviate one of the dimensions of sadism I'll experience when we return.
AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!***
*It's the fusion of entertainment and enjoyment, a phrase coined by one of the Nowell boys awhile back. And filed in the beaner for use later by MommaJ.
**I now understand what it must feel like to snort something up your nose. NO THANKS. I gave at GWL.
***That's the sound of the wolf in the water park that plays about every 15 minutes. It doesn't drive you COMPLETELY crazy...only partially.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Oh Charlie!
If there was ever a need for someone to end up all Tom-Hanks-style, stranded on a deserted island, with little hope for escape and a volleyball as his best friend, it's Charlie Sheen.
These past few years for Mr. Sheen haven't been the most stellar. In fact, they've been down right ugly. The further up the ladder he has climbed with Two and a Half Men, the farther away from reality he has gone.
Prostitutes, drugs, alcohol, charges of spousal abuse, multiple divorces, rehab. Nothing has woken him up.
I've had to wonder this week: Where are the publicists in all of this?* It is beyond time for some damage control. Seriously, if you have to hog tie this man to the bedpost and gag him to keep him from talking, now would be a good time to consider which bed is the sturdiest.
Sadly, you can see the God-complex in Mr. Sheen right now. He genuinely believes his rants have gotten the cast of Two and a Half Men paid. He sees none of his behavior, including shacking up with two twenty-something women he calls "Goddesses", odd. He says he's enlightened. He says he's drug-free. He says he is in a good place.
I guess, if you have "Tiger Blood" in your veins, you can tackle just about anything.
Mr. Sheen's behavior should serve as a big, fat warning for the rest of us. This is what happens when someone becomes his own God, hits rock bottom, and bounces.
Likely, he'll end up losing custodial rights to his children over this. It won't surprise me when I hear he is back in rehab again. Life for Charlie Sheen, in all of the 45-years he has been on planet Earth, is spiraling out-of-control.
And, in my humble opinion, the only person who can save himself is Mr. Sheen, who will have to figure out that it is time to turn away from the world and start seeking God.
If I were to have five seconds alone in a room with him, I'd say: "Charlie, it's time to find something bigger than yourself. You can't hold this together. Only God can. And, watching your behavior, I see that God is working hard to call you to Him. But, you aren't listening."
And you know what? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't make anymore headway that Mr. Sheen's parents or siblings or rehab counselors or anyone else who's given a rat's rear about him in the past few years.
Sadly, this isn't the first recent implosion and it won't be the last. Heath Ledger and Anna Nicole Smith are recent memories of public figures gone nutso.
We have no control over the behavior of other people, especially those in the public eye that we don't know personally. But we can learn from the behavior.
We can learn not to turn our backs when people who love us, who have our best interest in mind, tell us we are screwing up. We can learn that messing around with any drug, whether it be legal or not, puts us in a position of losing control of everything in our lives. We can learn that love can't be bought, it has to be born of mutual respect, admiration and genuine selflessness. We can learn, above all, that, even when we are imploding, God is STILL in control. And it is NEVER, EVER too late to come back to His fold.
I'm just very sorry this example is so public and so ugly. I truly hope Mr. Sheen is able to see the truth, pull his life back together and find his way again with God's help.
Even if this lesson means we never hear another word from Charlie on the stage, screen, or TV set, it would be worth it to see him overcome the world's traps and come out the other side a better person as a shining example of God's grace and goodness.
*Less-than-shocking newsflash: The publicist quit Monday.
These past few years for Mr. Sheen haven't been the most stellar. In fact, they've been down right ugly. The further up the ladder he has climbed with Two and a Half Men, the farther away from reality he has gone.
Prostitutes, drugs, alcohol, charges of spousal abuse, multiple divorces, rehab. Nothing has woken him up.
I've had to wonder this week: Where are the publicists in all of this?* It is beyond time for some damage control. Seriously, if you have to hog tie this man to the bedpost and gag him to keep him from talking, now would be a good time to consider which bed is the sturdiest.
Sadly, you can see the God-complex in Mr. Sheen right now. He genuinely believes his rants have gotten the cast of Two and a Half Men paid. He sees none of his behavior, including shacking up with two twenty-something women he calls "Goddesses", odd. He says he's enlightened. He says he's drug-free. He says he is in a good place.
I guess, if you have "Tiger Blood" in your veins, you can tackle just about anything.
Mr. Sheen's behavior should serve as a big, fat warning for the rest of us. This is what happens when someone becomes his own God, hits rock bottom, and bounces.
Likely, he'll end up losing custodial rights to his children over this. It won't surprise me when I hear he is back in rehab again. Life for Charlie Sheen, in all of the 45-years he has been on planet Earth, is spiraling out-of-control.
And, in my humble opinion, the only person who can save himself is Mr. Sheen, who will have to figure out that it is time to turn away from the world and start seeking God.
If I were to have five seconds alone in a room with him, I'd say: "Charlie, it's time to find something bigger than yourself. You can't hold this together. Only God can. And, watching your behavior, I see that God is working hard to call you to Him. But, you aren't listening."
And you know what? I'm pretty sure I wouldn't make anymore headway that Mr. Sheen's parents or siblings or rehab counselors or anyone else who's given a rat's rear about him in the past few years.
Sadly, this isn't the first recent implosion and it won't be the last. Heath Ledger and Anna Nicole Smith are recent memories of public figures gone nutso.
We have no control over the behavior of other people, especially those in the public eye that we don't know personally. But we can learn from the behavior.
We can learn not to turn our backs when people who love us, who have our best interest in mind, tell us we are screwing up. We can learn that messing around with any drug, whether it be legal or not, puts us in a position of losing control of everything in our lives. We can learn that love can't be bought, it has to be born of mutual respect, admiration and genuine selflessness. We can learn, above all, that, even when we are imploding, God is STILL in control. And it is NEVER, EVER too late to come back to His fold.
I'm just very sorry this example is so public and so ugly. I truly hope Mr. Sheen is able to see the truth, pull his life back together and find his way again with God's help.
Even if this lesson means we never hear another word from Charlie on the stage, screen, or TV set, it would be worth it to see him overcome the world's traps and come out the other side a better person as a shining example of God's grace and goodness.
*Less-than-shocking newsflash: The publicist quit Monday.
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