"You've Landed on a Whammy!"

I came of age in the 80s when morning tv didn't consist of 4-hour news shows or cooking programs or talk media. I remember Donahue (vaguely) but not Oprah. And the Today show was a couple of hours...tops. Not that I tuned in much since I was in school; but the watching went into high gear during bouts of stomach flu, bed-confining colds, and that nasty attack of chicken pox. My mom would make me soup and let me drink Pepsi Free (in the 12 oz. bottles....remember those?), and I'd plant myself in the corner of the couch for "tv and me" time.

While my brother, Tim, much preferred cartoons and The Three Stooges, I found preference in game shows. I could (and did) watch them from their 9 am start to their 12 noon finish...click, click, click. One of the Nielsen faves was "Press Your Luck." Ring any bells? (Jessi, you missed the 80s, I know, so bear with me). On this show, contestants sat facing the audience while hovering over a plunger button. Behind them, a square digitized screen flashed various dollar winnings with vacation trips and pleasure packages like the spa or windsurfing lessons...a big ticket in Iowa, let me tell ya (insert sarcastic tone here). They'd randomly press the plunger to make the flashing light stop on one of these squares and would win whatever they landed on. Unless, of course, they hit a Whammy - a squat, reddish reptilian that most resembled an animalistic devil, if you ask me. The animated Whammy would then stroll across the screen and laugh horribly at the contestant as their coffers of winnings were wiped clean. So sad.

Well, this week, I landed on some whammys. There have been no trips to the spa, no free tickets to Hilton Head, SC (though that would be my spot of choice, Aim), and no surprise $500 in the mail. Instead, I got billed $40 from the pediatrician that insurance should cover but won't - because the office coded it wrong and it can't be undone. Say what?! I learned that cold truth after spending 2 hours and 45 minutes (no exaggeration) tracking down details and going back and forth between the insurance company and the doctor. I'd punch somebody, but Jesus would frown on it, so...

Then our refrigerator required two parts that totaled well more than five bucks...which is about all I was in the mood to pay for our five-year-old frig. Afterwards, I found myself wondering about the practicality of building a 1900s wood box filled with ice blocks and tree shavings...it worked 100 years ago: couldn't it work now?

We've conquered vomit, forgotten piano books, Hundreds Day at school, CSAPs, reassembling our entire lower floor, and cleaning all porous household surfaces...en masse. I'm exhausted. Weary. Short-tempered.  And I still have to finish grading essays (say a little prayer for the freshmen). But here's what I did win when I wasn't landing on a Whammy:

• a husband who thoughtfully picked up dinner on Tuesday...without me asking or requiring it.
• a profoundly prized Michelle who refinanced our home (on her own time - and she's got precious little of it)...and informed us we'd be getting an escrow check from our old loan
• a son who informed me, "Mommy, when I love on you, I feel full inside like after you cook a really good dinner."
• a faraway friend who reminded me that reading about Samuel reveals truth even today
• an integral islander who reminds me daily of how to better love my children with self-denying patience and tenderness
• a soul mate who led small group without me even though facing the room alone after an 11-hour day was not high on his list of evening wind-downs
• an iron that pressed the clothes, a toilet that flushed on demand, candles that soothed the senses, flowers that filled the vases, a machine that washed the clothes, a gym that burned the aggression, and athletes who took the Gold. 

It is the Month of Love if I'll only see it as so. I love. I am loved. I choose  love...even if a few Whammys tempt me not to because, the way I figure it, love beats Whammys anyday. Right?