The Royal I in London

Ten Reasons Why I Should Be the BBC Correspondent to cover the British Royal Wedding.

1. I have a hat.

2. I have a son named William.

3. I could help with the reception. The Queen should not have to go her entire life without tasting my wings. I also cut the crust off sandwiches.

4. I sometimes drink tea, and once had a crumpet, which I ate incorrectly.

5. I can use the word blimey correctly in a sentence. ("Blimey!")

6. I am an expert on royalty, having often been described as a royal pain.

7. I have seen an entire episode of Dr. Who. I can also quote appropriate lines from Monty Python and the Holy Grail and am prepared to do so in an audition. (I will provide my own coconuts.)

8. I would fit right in overseas as long as I didn’t have to eat kidneys. Or anything the British describe as “pudding.”

9. Beside Camilla, I would look like Princess Diana. A Diana that had to shop in the petite chubby section and wear stretchy pants, but princess material nonetheless.

10. I own a tiara. (Target. $5.99)

Not Talking Turkey - My Top Ten List

I have a friend who writes a witty letter to send to the far reaches of her family at Christmas time every year. Since I never purposely steal anyone’s idea unless I can do it better or score first blood, I decided to compose an annual Thanksgiving letter instead, so that mine will be done before she gets out her shiny balls and Ho Ho’s. But on further reflection, I don’t want to risk competing with a lady who has enough culture to inquire, “What wine goes with roadkill?”

Therefore, in an act of stubborn cowardice, I have decided instead to present the top ten list of things I’ve learned this year. There’s been a lot of study material.

I learned that Life Lessons are either immensely painful or expensive. And also that one does not exclude the other.

I learned that driving a kidney patient to the hospital requires you to slow down, at least over the railroad tracks.

I learned that kidneys must be emptied more often than pockets at a police station and that the announcement that a patient’s kidneys are about to explode like the planet Alderan under attack from a fully functional Death Star shortens the wait at the Emergency Room immensely.

Transporting the patient home across the same railroad tracks, I learned that men with catheters DO NOT have a sense of humor.

I learned that the insurance company will pay for a bandaid quite cheerfully, but morphine requires an offering of type O positive and Taylor Swift tickets with backstage passes for the daughter of the insurance company’s CEO—and 350 of her closest friends.

I learned that if the kidney patient schedules a physical to see if anything else is wrong; something will be.

I learned that triglycerides are neither a good name for a rock band, nor a circus acrobatic act that revolves around a three-wheeled vehicle.

I learned to appreciate whole grain bread, lean meats, garden vegetables, and fresh fruit.

I learned that “refrigerate after opening” doesn’t necessarily apply to fresh fruit.

I learned that poached, grilled, boiled, and baked fish are still basically fish. Unless corn meal and hot grease are involved, all recipes are the same. Disclaimer: This is just an observation. I like fish. Please do not send me your recipe. I rejected Martha Stewart and I’ll reject you.

I learned that even though Life Lessons are expensive and painful and fraught with adventures that make you late for supper, having a healthy husband makes it all worthwhile. Tomorrow, between the green beans and Splenda-sweetened tea, I'll be putting in a word of thanks for that.

(Of course, that’s 11 things on the list. But when it comes to lessons, I was always an overachiever anyway. Happy Thanksgiving, Honey!)

Super Powers

Every time the kids go see a movie where some grown man is pulling on a mask and a pair of stretch pants to head out to the streets for an evening of crime fighting, they come home discussing how great it would be to have super powers. I’ve been on the pulling side of stretch pants many times in my life and I can tell you right now that if you can get the deceitful things on without blowing out a seam or rupturing a kidney, you already have superpowers. If you can do it without ruining a new manicure, you can be leader of the team.

The last time I tried to put on a pair of stretch jeans, I lost two press-on nails, a layer of fake tan, and three pounds in sweat currency. When I stood up, I realized I hadn’t put on my shoes. Basic science and a hearty dose of common sense told me that if I bent over, the ensuing explosion would result in a pair of shredded pants hanging from an elastic waistband. Don’t tell me I don’t know how the Hulk feels. I went barefoot that day.

I do have a certain reverence for Superman, though. Anybody who can change into blue tights and a red Speedo in 2.5 seconds in a telephone booth possesses some natural skills. However due to changes in technology, there are precious few telephone booths in existence, and I just can’t see the whole scenario having the same effect if Superman dashed into a Sprint kiosk at the mall. Superman is apt to emerge from the booth with six rows of sparkly phone bling, a Velcro carrying case with snap-tight closure, and a weekend of free anytime minutes.

Dressing myself is a remarkable talent, but not my only claim to extraneous powers. I can tell by the ring of my cell phone if Son Number 1 had an unfortunate encounter with the steamer at work, Son 2 needs money for gas, or the cat just produced a bouncing baby hairball in an undisclosed but widely traveled location in my newly carpeted hallway. My Mom-sense gives me a jolt when, somewhere in my living room, a child is feeding toxic-gas-producing hot dogs to the Dachshund. And I feel an overwhelming disturbance in the Force when anyone related to me by blood, marriage, or pet adoption dries their sneakers in the toaster.

All in all, I find that movie-type superpowers are over-rated. I never saw a single member of the Fantasic Four who could remove a jelly glass from the flushomatic on the first try. For that, you need a lot more than a cape and coloredy support hose.

You need a Mom with the plumber on speed dial.