His & Hers

Our 1st wedding anniversary is rapidly approaching, and the celebrating has already begun. As I've noted before, I'm 50 and Deborah is a very young XX (a number less than 50), so based on our doctor's recommendations, we scheduled his and hers colonoscopies. Now there's love.

Deborah went first about a month ago, and I helped her through it as best as I could. I went for my colonoscopy yesterday. Now for those that don't know, a colonoscopy uses an endoscope to go into the colon and look for polyps or tumors or something other than healthy tissue. In order to do that, the colon must be clear of...well...whatever normally occupies the colon. Think about it.

To cleanse the digestive system, the patient goes on a liquid diet for 24 hours or so, and the doctor prescribes a little more than a gallon of laxative. Deborah's a petite girl, and when she comes out of the bathroom exclaiming, "I can't believe that came out of me," I immediately started to worry. Because I'm anything but petite, and what's in me could be as big as Deborah--not what's in her, but equal to the size of her.

So anyway, Deborah makes it through the most invasive of procedures, and it's now my turn. So I get my prescription and go to the pharmacy. I know our pharmacist because her daughter goes to school with Lexie. You know, pharmacists know it all. Even more so than doctors. "Hello, Mr. Craig, how's the high blood pressure, congestion, acid reflux, depression, chronic pain, herpes simplex 1, erectile dysfunction, and oh, I see that now you need to flush your colon. Colonoscopy?" Nothing is truly private.

Deborah had told me that I would need to spend several hours in the bathroom, so while I was picking up the gallon of laxative, I decided to pick up a package of toilet paper. Deborah knows that I will buy anything and not blink an eye. You need tampons, I'm you're guy. Feminine hygiene, family planning, or sex toys, I'll stand in a long line at Wal-Mart and ask people's opinion of what I'm buying. It's no big deal.

But I'm standing at the pharmacy debating on whether to buy toilet paper with my prescription for CoLyte at the same time from a pharmacist that I know. Eventually, I decided what the hell, and I went to the counter with a package of Charmin Ultra Soft. After ringing up the CoLyte and the Charmin Ultra Soft, the last thing she said to me was, "Don't worry. You won't use all this toilet paper." I know it is hard, but couldn't the pharmacist have pretended that she didn't know what CoLyte was for. Anyway, I looked down at the floor, paid the pharmacist, and tried to walk out of the pharmacy like there was nothing in my colon and this CoLyte stuff was really a big misunderstanding.

After cleansing, and as I'm waiting in the endoscopy room, I'm looking around at the instruments. The nurse had laid out everything for the doctor and I saw about 1/2 a tube of "personal lubricant" squeezed out onto a piece of gauze. Ugh. Okay. Then I looked at the endoscope. The scope had lines marked on it that I concluded represented 10 cm segments, which is about 4 inches. So then I started counting the number of segments, 1, 2, 3, 4, ... holy sh*t...there's like 15 segments. I'm calculating in my head as I'm lying there with IV fluids running, oxygen flowing, and waiting for the sedation to hit. That's like 5 feet of endoscope and a 1/2 pound of lubricant all for me.

During one of my inquisitive moments, I saw a guy on the Internet impale himself with a 3 foot dildo. At the time, I thought no way. No. Way. Now I'm lying on a table looking at 5 feet of endoscope about to go in me. And my only thought was I hope they aren't videoing this. DrBubba's butt may have been on the Internet, but DrBubba's butt with 5 feet of snake inserted doesn't belong on this blog, YouTube, or America's Funniest Videos.

About that time, the nurse asked if I could feel the sedative working, and I said, "yeaazzzzzz...." When I woke up, it was over, and they said I passed.

What makes a doctor specialize in colonoscopy or endoscopy? Do you think they become immune to looking at people's butts. Cause if I had my choice, I would have loved to be the doctor probing Deborah versus the poor dude that had to look at my big ass. I wonder if they go home and tell the wife, "I did three 3's today, a 5, and one 9-1/2. Whoa!"

His and her colonoscopies? Maybe not the 1st wedding anniversary gift on everybody's list, but if it means decades of more wedding anniversaries with Deborah, it was worth every embarrassing second, that is, as long as it's not on YouTube.

Craig's Square Life-Wheels

A bicycle on square wheels--on the correct surface, it's a perfectly smooth ride. (Note: It's Dr. Stan Wagon, Professor of Mathematics at Macalester College, on his bicycle.)

I'm thinking that my life is a bicycle with square wheels, but the riding surface isn't quite right.

The kids are happy, but the parents...not so much. And I don't know how to change it. One thing I know is that love is tough. Saying "I love you" isn't enough. Blogging about love isn't enough. Roses aren't enough. Taking care of kids isn't enough. Since I know what I've been doing for my love, I'm learning that it takes more.

More of what is the problem, that is, I can't seem to figure out the what.

None of what I've written makes much sense, does it?

Kinda the way I feel too.

This week was the first week of school, so the kids are now in only 2 schools--elementary and high school. It makes delivering kids to and from school much easier. Everyone seems to be happy with school so far.

I found a bunch of pictures from 2007 yesterday while I was looking for an old computer program that I'd written. Many were of Deborah and I when we first started dating, and I got to admit that I was smiling and laughing quite a bit looking through the pictures. It was before the fan got hit with sh*t though.

A little know bit of trivia. My name is David Paul Craig, and the names of the last three guys Deborah dated were Craig, Paul, and David. No reason for including that in the blog except that I remembered it yesterday and I thought it was cool.

I can't wait until it snows. I want to run in 3 or 4 inches of fresh snow and hear it crunch under my big shoes.

In the meantime, here's to a great week for all and a catenary surface for us.

Horse-Fly-Sized Ass

I still need to run a marathon before May 14, 2012, to achieve my marathon-at-50 goal.

I wanted a special marathon--a marathon so spectacular that it would be worthy of marathon-at-50 pain.

Initially I was thinking about the Las Vegas Rock 'n' Roll Marathon that runs at night in December down the Las Vegas strip. That sounded fun...except for being surrounded by 30,000 other runners.

Then I thought about the Big Sur Marathon in California. For 3 weeks, I've been going to their website thinking about signing up for the race. I even talked to Deborah about it, but I just couldn't pull the trigger. I saw the race registration at 50% sold, 75% sold, 84% sold, and finally sold out. I think it was "California" that kept me from signing up for the race--not a big fan of the left coast.

So now I'm thinking about the Colorado Marathon on May 6 in Fort Collins. But, I'm still thinking and open to suggestions.

Fly Paper
I got tired of swatting flies while out on the porch swing, so I hung some fly paper. Deborah asked, "what is on fly paper?" I explained in my typical technical fashion that scientists had extracted female fly aromas that cause a sexual response in the male fly. The male is excited and lands on the fly paper. At that point he's stuck and dies.

Deborah said, "I've lived all my life and didn't know that."

Leather and Lace Or Acid and Ecstasy

Deborah and I attended the Stevie Nicks on August 9, 2011, at Red Rocks in Morrison, Colorado. It was a very good show, and since it was the first show on the new tour, Stevie's audience interaction was unrehearsed and spontaneous, which made us feel like we were out in her backyard...along with 9,000 of her closest friends.

We were sitting on row 5 towards stage right, and for most of the night, in front of Waddy Wachtel, Stevie's guitar player and music director. I kept waving and winking at Stevie, but I think because of the 9,000 other people, she was trying to ignore me. She did a good job.

But, at the end of the show after Edge of Seventeen, Waddy threw his guitar pick to Deborah, which I was able to retrieve from the Red Rocks concrete aisle. The pick is imprinted with "Waddy Wachtel - Stay 200 hundred feet back." I threw his room key back.

It was a typical concert experience at Red Rocks. You know, the climb up a mountain from South parking area BFE. Where are those damn Sherpas when we need them? Not to mention a cat fight between two drunk, high 20ish chicks on row 6 behind us. Who the hell gets drunk and fights at a Stevie Nicks concert for god's sake? Seriously. And of course, out of 9,000 people, we end up sitting next to the 50ish 6 foot tall single chick that wouldn't keep her hands off me. She kept grabbing my arm and screaming, "Oh my god! Oh my god!" I was beginning to think she had Katherine Heigl's vibrating panties, and at one point I leaned over to Deborah and said, "help me."

The picture is an accurate representation of this chick's brain. We were trying to figure out what she had swallowed. As Stevie sang Leather and Lace, I told Deborah that I thought it was acid and ecstasy. Sure enough I get home and Google "ecstasy" and it says, "Users say they experience feelings of closeness with others and a desire to touch others." Uh huh, yeah. Towards the end of the night, she looked like she was coming down, and her boyfriend embarrassingly walked her past us on the way out. We're betting he didn't hear "Oh my god" again that night.

And, bitch, those were some ugly glasses. (Paraphrased from Deborah's comments)

As we always do, Deborah and I had a great time together. It's always fun to be with the one you love whether in line at the DMV or sitting up front at a concert.

Fly Paper Con't.
Later after a few chuckles, I admitted to Deborah that I made up the part about extracting female fly aromas that cause a sexual response in the male fly. It must be a bitch living with me--hehe.

Of course Deborah has since let it be known that my horse-fly-sized ass will not be attracted or sticking to her aroma anytime in the immediate future either. Damn.

Get Some...Air

So Deborah and I went last Sunday to pick up Miranda at Elitch Gardens theme park. It was about 3:00 pm and very HOT. As we walked, Deborah noticed a pair of panties on the sidewalk. First, I must clarify that they weren't Deborah's panties. I mean, Deborah's shirts have less material than those panties, and besides, Deborah wouldn't be caught dead in granny panties, that is, she'll live and die someday either au naturel or in a thong. If she found herself in granny panties buried for all eternity, she'd tunnel over to my grave and kick my big ass.

Anyway...

It was so hot...

"How hot was it?"

It was so hot that granny stripped off her drawers and headed for the water slide at Elitch's.

Think about that the next time ya go squealing down a water slide---weeeeeeeeee. Ewwwwww. Thank god for chlorine.

My Love, Odds 'N' Ends, And Kahunas

My Beautiful Love of My Life

Look at that picture. Isn't she amazing? I can't tell you how old she is because if I did some doctor would have to reattach my kahunas, but isn't she beautiful? It's driving me nuts to tell you, so I'll write it in code. The love of my life, my wife Deborah, is

MMXI - MCMLXI - 0!

You would never know it looking at the picture would you. Another reason why I love Deborah.

(Anyone knowing the factorial of zero and finding my kahunas, please comment or send me an email so that I can have them reattached.)

Odds 'N' Ends

I sent a picture of Justin, Jarrod, and Lexie standing in Front of Bob Tasca's fuel funny car on Saturday to Deborah. I explained that we had to get a tire repaired, and the dealership just happened to have the funny car on display. Of course, Deborah knows me better than that and realized that I knew the car would be there, but I had to think of a reason to go see it. So Deborah replied by text that while looking for a plunger and toilet bowl cleaner at Jared's, she would send me pictures of herself with diamond anniversary rings.

Last Sunday, Lexie said she wanted to work out, so she grabbed some weights, some Powerade Zero, and her tutu and headed out to the sidewalk in front of the house. It was an impressive workout with dumbbell pumping while doing the splits.

Since Deborah was a competitive powerlifter, I asked Deborah to demonstrate proper splits technique while nude and pumping iron...

so...

anyone finding the rest of my kahunas around the neighborhood, please comment or email.

Joplin, Missouri

Miranda (left) and her friend Rayne left for Joplin, Missouri at 6:00 am this morning. They are traveling with Thorncreek Church and volunteering to help those in Joplin that were devastated by the F5 tornado on May 22, 2011. The church has done an incredible job collecting furniture for the people of Joplin. American Furniture donated a tractor-trailer to haul furniture to Joplin, and the people in the Thorncreek community filled the trailer with slightly used furniture and appliances. When I dropped off our contribution yesterday, I was amazed. Amazed(!) at how much furniture had been collected.

This is Thorncreek Church members 2nd trip to Joplin to volunteer, and I strongly encourage readers to go to the Thorncreek Church website and watch the "Joplin Disaster Relief" video. Miranda, Deborah's daughter and my step-daughter, has been a regular attendee of Thorncreek's 320 Student Ministry high school meetings, and Miranda wanted very badly to go to Joplin. Since Miranda had never been away from her mom on a trip, it was hard for Deborah to see her go, but go she did.

I remembered back to my high school days and all the trips that I went on with Young Life and other north Texas church groups. The difference between mine and Miranda's trip is that all of my trips were about me--we went skiing every year and we went to summer camps to play--but Miranda's trip is different. As pastor Ruben Villarreal commented before they left for Joplin, "this trip is not about 'me.' Put 'me' aside."

As I stood watching the "kids" load up into the vans, it made me proud. Proud that Miranda, Rayne, and so many young teens can give up their lives for a week to help others. I agree with Ruben when he said that this trip will be "life changing" for the volunteers. It's already affected me, and I wasn't even going.

Ya Gotta Have Goals

This is probably a better tweet than blog post, but yesterday as Deborah and I were going to shop at Dick's Sporting Goods, Deborah commented, "I want to be voted as having the best ass in the retirement home."

Life Goals -- yet another reason why I love Deborah!