Misfit Toys v. Santa Claus

In spite of all the happiness that Santa Claus has brought to the millions of children throughout the world, there will always be a black chapter in his long, illustrious career. Many do not remember (or wish to remember) his inhumane treatment of the Misfit Toys who were banished to the Island of Misfit Toys for no fault of their own. If it wasn't for 60 Minutes who exposed the violation of their civil rights they might still be living in squalor and shame. Of course, Gloria Allred immediately seized the opportunity to defend them and promptly filed a multimillion dollar class action lawsuit on their behalf against Mr. Claus, which basically would have shut down all toy building operations at the North Pole. The case was eventually settled out of court and the Misfit Toys were all delivered to semi-good children. A quality control department was also set up by the Elves to ensure that all toys would forever be created equal. Who knows what led Santa to resort to such despicable behavior? Perhaps, he thought that the delivery of "misfit" toys would cause unnecessary whining from ungrateful children who would then begin to question his ability to satisfy their Christmas wish lists. Whatever the reasons, it is a chapter that hopefully, will never be repeated in the annals of yuletide history.

Stupid Cupid

A man who is accused of trying to get marijuana into a Washington state jail by attaching it to an arrow he shot onto the roof has been identified. The suspect is none other than Cupid, the chubby little cherub who is responsible for causing so many of us to fall hopelessly in love. When questioned of his motive for shooting an arrow with marijuana attached to it into the jail, this was his response. "I've been having quite a bit of trouble these last few years with getting men to fall in love. With their fantasy football leagues, video games, lack of responsibilities, etc., they just don't seem to have an interest in love anymore no matter how potent my arrows are. In fact, these "man-boys" seem to have almost become immune to them. So, I decided to try something just a little different. Granted, it probably wasn't the most ideal place to start but I just wanted to see if, by perhaps, altering their state of minds would somehow allow my arrows to once again produce their desired effects."

The Diabolical Brain Brothers

I have just been informed by my friend and closest ally, my heart, that the long standing feud between my right brain and my left brain has reached a permanent ceasefire. After years of non-stop bickering which often times has left me virtually brain dead, "The Diabolical Brain Brothers" as they now call themselves, have torn down the wall between them and are now united as one, all powerful, Superbrain. Unfortunately, however, in the process of their reunification they became corrupted and now seek control over every member of my body, including my heart, who had many times tried to intervene and negotiate a peace treaty. I refuse to allow my beloved friend, who had already suffered so much from their constant feuding, to fall and become subject to their total domination. The war has begun.

Horsefeathers!

Ever since I started using The Original Mane 'n Tail Shampoo I've noticed a more shiny, manageable and fuller mane, er, I mean, hair. My appetite has also curiously changed. I eat like a horse now. It's funny because I've never really liked carrots or apples before but now I eat them by the basketful and find myself chomping at the bit for more. In fact, I think I'll prance over to the kitchen, uh, make that walk over to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Tomorrow, I've got plans (hopefully, before it rains) to go to the equestrian park to throw some horseshoes with my neighbor. Okay, this is really starting to get annoying, plus, now there's a big horse-fly buzzing around the room. I think it's about time to call it a night and hit the hay.

BW in Celebrity Speech Rehab

The day after her television interview with K.L. Denney, Barbara Walters checked herself into "Celebrity Speech Rehab" where she has been working with world renowned speech therapist, Dr. Yul Tokbetter.

DYT: Barbara, I would like to hear the assignment that I gave you yesterday.
BW: Doctow Tokbettew, I'm not suwe if I'm weady yet but hewe goes. Womeo, Womeo, whewefowe awt thou, Womeo.
DYT: Okay, this time you think of something a little more modern and simple.
BW: Wain, wain, go away. Come again anothew day.
DYT: Hmm, interesting. Who's Wayne and why did you tell him to go away?
BW: No, no, Doctow! I said wain, not Wayne!
DYT: Yes, of course. Was Wayne ever abusive to you?
BW: Well, only once when it came down so hawd that it pwactically wuined my little "Gucci-Guccis."
DYT: Your what?
BW: Oh sowwy. That's my little pet name I gave my favowite paiw of shoes. I bowwowed it fwom Chawo.
DYT: Barbara, it's "cuchi-cuchi." Trust me, I know. Charo was a former client.
BW: That's what I said, "gucci-guccis." What's wong? Awe you hawd of heawing?
DYT: Oh, yes, I forgot. That's why you're here.
BW: Doctow Tokbettew, am I cuwed yet?
DYT: We'll continue this tomorrow but I really think that this Wayne could be the source of your speech problem.
BW: But Doctow, I love wain! It makes evewything pwetty and gween!
DYT: Then why did you tell Wayne to go away?
BW: I DIDN'T! IT'S A STUPID NUWSEWY WHYME, YOU DUMB *** SHWINK!

BW Interview with K.L. (Part 2)

BW: Hello, I'm Bawbawa Waltews and welcome back to pawt 2 of my intewview with K.L. Denney, facebook postew extwaowdinaiwe. How awe you tonight, K.L.?
K.L.: I'm good, Barbara, and thanks so much for having me back particularly after what happened last night.
BW: No pwoblem. Now, in the fiwst pawt of ouw intewview, we discussed the souwce of youw inspiwation. If I wemembew cowwectly,  you said you weceive inspiwation fwom genewating gasses in youw alimentawy canal which awe then expelled out youw poopew chute in the fowm of deadly toxic fumes causing sewious nose and eye iwwitations. And, in some extweme cases can wesult in pewmanent damage ow complete loss of vision and smell.
K.L.: Well, I guess you could say that but still very impressive. You've really done your homework well, Babs.
BW: Please don't call me that. That name always weminds me of a sheep. My name is Bawbawa.
K.L.: Okay, Bawbawa Black Sheep. Sorry, I couldn't resist. Can I ask you a personal question? Have you always had difficulty pronouncing your "r's"?
BW: Evew since I can wemembew. Is it weally that bad?
K.L.: Yes, it weally is that bad.
BW: Well, many people call it my twademawk but they also say that Elmew Fudd is my twin bwothew.
K.L.: I'm vewy sowwy, Bawbawa.
BW: Awe you mocking me, K.L.?
K.L.: No, no, weally I'm not! Fow some stwange weason I can't seem to talk stwaight now! I think I need to see a speech thewapist wight away!
BW: And that's the end of ouw pwogwam tonight. Thank you vewy much fow allowing me to intewview you, K.L. Denney.
(Off-air) GET THIS JEWK OUT OF HEWE! I DON'T NEED TO BE INSULTED BY SOME CWAZY *** FACEBOOK POSTEW!

BW Interview with K.L. (Part 1)

BW: Hello, I'm Bawbawa Waltews and welcome to my special. Tonight my fiwst guest is the wowld wenowned facebook postew, K.L. Denney. It's a pleasuwe to finally have you on my show, K.L.
K.L.: Thank you Barbara. The pleasure is all mine.
BW: Now, K.L., let me stawt off by asking you whewe in the wowld do you weceive youw inspiwation fwom?
K.L.: Bawbawa, oops, I mean Barbara, I don't exactly know where it comes from. All I know is that at any given moment a spark of inspiration will strike causing me to smile no matter where I am, who I'm with or what I'm doing.
BW: K.L., you happen to be smiling on my show wight now. Awe you weceiving a spawk of inspiwation as we speak?
K.L.: Uh, actually, Barbara, no. I can't believe that I just tooted on national television with millions of people watching!
BW: Weeelax, K.L. I toot my own hown all the time. But, tell me, do you still considew youw toot as a spawk of inspiwation?
K.L.: Well, in a sense I guess I do. My wife and kids don't think so but, hey, you gotta get your inspiration from somewhere, right?
BW: Veeewy intewesting, pewhaps that is why my own hown is tooting all the time. Well, folks, now we all know whewe the gweat K.L. Denney weceives his inspiwation fwom and, dawe say, myself. We'll see you all tomowwow night fow the conclusion of my intewview with the man who has litewally weshaped the wowld of facebook. Thank you, K.L.
K.L.: You awe vewy welcome.

In Therapy with OJ

OJ Simpson reports to parole board that he has been counseling other inmates. Let's drop in on one of his sessions, shall we? Shhh, I think this one is already in progress...
Thug 1: OJ, first of all, let me just say that I am your biggest fan and the proud owner of much of your sports and crime memorabilia...
OJ: And just how did you obtain my memorabilia?
Thug 1: I stole it. How else do you think I got in here?
OJ: Anyway, what is your question, my good man?
Thug 1: OJ, tell us how you got away with murder and we didn't?
OJ: Good question. I was going to cover that very subject next week but since you asked we might as well jump into it. Money, my friends, and lots of it. Well, gentlemen, I'm afraid that we've run out of time for today. Okay, now that that's over with let's get back to business. I have in my hand here a genuine autographed piece of my old toilet paper. Who shall begin the bidding?
Thug 2: I'll give you one cigarette for it, no, make that half a cigarette.
OJ: Do I hear one cigarette? Half a cigarette going once, going twice, sold to the man in the black and white striped jumpsuit!

The Lost Tribe of Phollicle

The other night my observant better half remarked how tanned my forehead was. In my attempt to explain the reason how this originally came to be, it will necessitate our travel to a distant time and place, the pre facebook era, when a post was part of a fence and a wall was part of a building. Come take a fascinating journey with me tonight as we attempt to uncover the mystery of "The Lost Tribe of Phollicle." Check local cable listings for time and channel.

Many years ago upon the ancient Scalp Denney there lived a little tribe who prospered and multiplied exceedingly. "The Tribe of Phollicle," as they were known, were a happy, peaceful tribe and loved to spend hours dancing with the wind. As the years went by, except for an occasional bad cropping, they continued to live in peace without any conflicts. One summer, a terrible drought and ensuing famine overtook their homescalp and threatened their peaceful civilization. Many tribal members eventually fled to the north and were never seen again. The few that stayed vowed that they would never leave their beloved homescalp regardless of the lingering drought or any other adverse condition. However, notwithstanding their steadily diminishing population, eternal hope still exists in an old prophecy that "The Lost Tribe of Phollicle" will someday return in all their splendor to once again dance with the wind.

Planes, Brains and Automobiles

Continuing the subject of brains (which seem to occupy my mind lately), although my body has been showing signs of wear and tear for some time now, I always reassure my wife that my Vintage 1959 Custom Model Brain is still operating at maximum efficiency. In fact, every so often it will overheat and shut down due to excessive brilliance and have to cool down in order to regain standard levels of extraordinary genius. I'm even amazed at how I... AHHHH!!! Dang, that one REALLY hurt! Why can't I ever get a slipper or at least a tennis shoe thrown at me instead of those deadly pointy high heels! Now, where was I? Oh yeah, just talking about myself again...

Civil War

The following conversation takes place several times a day within the convoluted confines of my brain.

Right Brain: Wow! I've got this killer idea for a new post!
Left Brain: Oh no, here we go again.
Right Brain: Stick it, Lame-o! I don't see you making any contributions to his wall.
Left Brain: That's because I have better and more important things to do with my gray matter.
Right Brain: Yeah, like trying to come up with better ideas of how to make his life more boring than it already is.
Left Brain: Listen, Mark Twit. If you think you're so creative then how do you explain the fact that he only has 2 followers on his blog?
Right Brain: Hey, it's not like we're trying to start a cult or anything. These things take time.
Left Brain: Well, that's part of the problem. You have too much of it on your hands.
Hands: Hands, reporting for duty, Sir!
Left Brain: Hands, you weren't officially summoned for duty but since you're here, could you please give him a good whack on the side of the head. You know which side.
Hands: Yes, Sir!

Dear Diary

I can understand to a certain extent the government's intrusion into our private lives in order to provide us with better national security. As a brother with two teenage sisters I felt it was my solemn duty to infiltrate their "imbalanced worlds" so that I might identify potential threats and thus avert another emotional crisis. Now, the only way that I could obtain the intel was by reading their diaries (the ones that had those useless little locks and keys). Trust me, I did not particularly enjoy reading about all their little magical romances (the cat fights were entertaining) but I did what I felt I had to do in spite of the dislocated shoulders, broken teeth and fractured ribs that I suffered from their ungrateful fists.

God and Moses

God: "Hello Moses. I see you forgot the wheelbarrow that I had asked you to bring."
Moses: "Sorry Lord. I had to hightail it out of there. I can only put up with their shenanigans for so long. They act like such children sometimes." 
God: "Nice one. Anyway, it's probably best that I don't give you the whole kit and caboodle at once. Somehow, I have a feeling that those little party animal heathens down there are going to mess up big time with the ten that I'm going to give you."
Moses: "Right, Lord. Like they say, Father knows best!" 
God: "Yes, it makes my job a little easier. Now, I want you to notice something. I did not write these on papyrus. They are written in STONE which means they CANNOT be changed or altered in any way, shape or fashion regardless of what might be considered popular at the time. There will be those who will eventually say, 'These need to be updated or even deleted because they no longer fit with the times.' Moses, always remember and tell them, I DON'T change my mind." 
Moses: "Um, these here are good ones but do you have to give us these?"
God: "MOSES!"
Moses: "Right, Lord. I'm on my way!"

Two Gloves Or Not Two Gloves?

My neighbors occasionally ask me, "K.L., we see you every Saturday working in your yard like a mad man and yet you never wear work gloves. How do you do it?" I tell them, "Friends, I know that my refusal to wear work gloves to protect my soft, delicate, office hands seems totally irrational but, you see, I am "old school." Did Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig wear batting gloves? Did the gridiron gladiators of yesteryear wear gloves while battling it out on the frozen tundra? I must have dirt under my fingernails, rose thorns pricking my flesh and blood blisters on my palms!" Maybe I should try "new school" at least on Saturdays.

Hair Today Gone Tomorrow

When looking at old, blurry pictures of myself (okay, so I have absolutely nothing else better to do), I can't help but ask myself, where have all the follicles gone? Perhaps, I neglected to fertilize and reseed my scalp sufficiently over the years or maybe they (follicles) just sought out greener pastures like the ears and the back (I know, ewww). Anyway, your hair was much like an old boyhood pal that was with you through thick and thin and then as the years went by, you began to notice that the attachment was not quite as close as it once was. You tried desperately to find alternate ways to recapture those wonderful, carefree days but knew that in the end they were always nothing but cheap, phony substitutes. And, you painfully realized that your old boyhood pal and you would remain forever separated at least until the glorious resurrection!

From Sloth to Superhero

After Winter's long awaited thaw, something quite extraordinary happens to the dormant, cave dwelling, remote control possessive sloth. He is once again rejuvenated and transformed into the Live Action Superhero that his family has come to know and love. Upon releasing the pull cord of his trusty grass cutting sidekick, he can be seen practically flying across his lawn with the speed and agility exhibited only by those who don masks, tights and capes. His neighbors all wave to him as they drive by, equally impressed at the grace and command at which he maneuvers his menacing mowing machine. Yes, our Superhero is back and more than eager to confront and engage his lawn for yet another Spring, Summer and Fall!

Earth Day 2013

Another "Earth Day" has come and gone. In fact, it came and went just like the last one and the one before that and the one before that and... just what the heck is Earth Day anyway and what are we supposed to do on this day? Of course, why not a daylong bounteous feast of nothing but good ol' fashioned, home cooked earth food (no Moon pies, Mars bars, etc.). Perhaps, next year I will take a trip to outer space and visit a third world planet so that I will appreciate earth even more than I already do. Oh, and one more thing, maybe we should extend it to "Earth Week" so that those fellow earthlings who celebrate 4/20 have more time to come back down to earth and not miss out on all the festivities.

Bosley vs Baldness

When a man's hair goes, so too, his ability to play Ping Pong and other related sports. I did not realize this until I watched an infomercial for Bosley Hair Restoration. Without a full head of hair, a man simply does not possess the confidence (nor the looks) to compete in sports that require good hair, er, I mean, hand-eye coordination. Bosley Hair Restoration has assured me that with my new synthetic hair, my wife will once again cheer my physical prowess at the Ping Pong table (when she's not running her hands through my new sexy Bosley hair) but, until then, my athletic skills are still better suited for the remote control.

Monty's Revenge

Revenge. We may not always wish it outwardly upon our enemies but if it happens, not too many of us will feel bad about it. Why? Because it makes us feel justice has been served and order has been restored. Hollywood has embraced it and made millions off of it. There is nothing that will arouse our faculties more than seeing a bad guy get what's coming to him (see Taken, Taken 2 and eventually 3, 4, 5...). But, can revenge sometimes be taken too far? Montezuma was the Aztec emperor during the conquest of Mexico by the Spanish Conquistador, Cortes. Granted, he had every reason to be upset. He not only lost his empire but also his own life. But, Monty, please, for the sake of all foreign tourists, enough is enough! It's time to let it go and let us enjoy the wonderful food of Mexico without having to suffer the unpleasant effects of your perpetual wrath afterwards.

Ear Lobes

When family members and relatives get together, interesting discussions and observations are often brought up which previously had not received any attention. While on our recent trip to Mexico, my niece (who once called me weird) made the comment that no one in the Denney family had ear lobes. We compared all our ears and sure enough, we were all minus ear lobes. I pondered the realization of this strange physical phenomenon and began researching to perhaps uncover the origin. I googled, "Why Denneys have no ear lobes." In just a few seconds the computer screen was flooded with historical information of every kind. To summarize, many thousands of years ago in prehistoric England, members of the Denney tribe were extremely slow of foot and could barely keep up with a sloth. Ear lobes, which created wind resistance, gradually began to shrink in size through the process of adaptation in order to make their ears more streamlined and thus better hunters. Personally, I can live without ear lobes but it has been a source of major disappointment for my sisters as they have been unable to wear earrings and, worse yet, their old boyfriends had no ear lobes to nibble on.

Terror at 30,000 Feet

The slightest sign of trouble while flying at 30,000 feet can cause even the strongest of persons to become panic stricken and unravel like a ball of yarn. On our flight home from Mexico City, my sister in law, Paige Denney, somehow got locked inside the lavatory and was unable to free herself from the cramped confines. As the flight attendants worked feverishly to disengage the door locking mechanism, ferocious door pounding and screams of terror from within the lavatory could be heard throughout the cabin of the aircraft frightening many of the passengers on board. After several minutes of unsuccessful attempts by the flight attendants, poor Paige was about ready to rip out the little plastic throne and make her escape through the poop chute when I sprang from my seat and raced to the front of the cabin. With the strength of a much younger version of myself, I kicked open the lavatory door saving the blonde damsel in distress as well as the entire crew and passengers of flight 26.

One Man's Path to Happiness

A man took a journey hoping to find the path to happiness. He traveled to many far away lands, but, it seemed the farther he traveled, the more unhappy he became. One day while resting from his travels under an old apple tree, an apple fell and hit him on the head. "Perhaps, this is a sign that I should cease my travels," he thought to himself. "I'll just sit here and wait for another sign." Well, the apples continued to fall and hit him on the head but still the man received no additional sign. As the years went by, the man finally admitted to himself, "I have traveled to many far away lands and have been sitting under this old apple tree for all these years and the only thing I have to show for my time is this big old lump on my head!" Then, like a sudden flash of lightening from the sky, the man stood up as he saw his path to happiness in a short, simple rhyme, "Forget your regret, look ahead instead."

The First BBQ

Most would agree that indulgence in fine cuisine is certainly one of life's pleasures and one that bears no regret other than perhaps an exorbitant calorie intake or bill. When Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden, surely, one of their primary concerns was their lack of knowledge and ability to sustain themselves since the Garden was now off-limits. Initially, there must have been a lot of trial and error in determining what could be properly consumed and digested which, more than likely, resulted in unpleasant episodes of gastrointestinal discomfort. After a steady diet of fruits, nuts and berries, imagine their surprise and delight at discovering additional food sources. Eve: "Adam, this is simply marvelous but I still feel a little strange eating Bambi." But, eventually, they learned how to separate the Fidos from the fillets and the Rovers from the roasts. In fact, they probably became quite efficient at the art of grilling which they used to open a family run cafe aptly named, "The Garden of Eatin'."

Steamy Mirror Love Notes

We all know the basic function of mirrors (to identify zombies in our midst) but some of us may also be cognizant of another functionality, that of steamy romance tablets in which we express feelings of love and affection to that special person in our lives who just happens to share the most intimate setting in our homes, the bathroom. For those who are not familiar with the process involved, the love note must be written on a steamy mirror which will, like invisible ink, disappear and then magically reappears the next time the mirror steams up. Oh, the rapture and thrill of seeing those cherished words from our beloved as we exit a hot shower! But, on a seldom, rare occasion, those "cherished words" will somehow transform and take on the appearance of a Honey Do List item like this steamy mirror love note that my wife wrote me just before she left on a business trip this weekend, "Don't forget to clean the house!"

Daylight Suffering Time

I'm sure I said this last year and I'm going to say it again. Whoever came up with the harebrained idea of losing an hour of sleep just to have a little more daylight should have been put in solitary confinement where he would have had all the time in the world to think about his idiotic idea and to prevent him from coming up with any more. Seriously, what was this guy (or gal) thinking? He was probably an atheist (or, worse yet, one of those morning people) as he obviously didn't care about those of us that have to wake up on Sunday morning to go to church. Personally, I can't hear (or see) the word of God when my eyelids are still glued shut (although, that can happen on any given Sunday, but that's beside the point). And, then, a few months later, we're led to believe that we're graciously 'gaining' an extra hour of sleep. Hello! Good morning! We're just getting back what we lost in the Spring so why bother changing the clocks in the first place? Well, at least I don't have a clock collection like a lady we talked to tonight who just changed the time on 53 clocks. Talk about going cuckoo, cuckoo, cuckoo...

Febrewary

As we bid farewell to the month of February I would like to offer a small (yet eloquent) tribute to this very unique month. First of all, no one quite knows how to pronounce it (perhaps it should be spelled "Febrewary"). It is also the shortest month of the year and the only month in which a day is added every four years. Although it may be fewer in days, there is much to be found throughout the month. We start off with humor and groundhog awareness on Groundhog Day (would anyone know what a groundhog is without this day?). We have a sense of history with it being Black History Month. Love and romance (or resentment) on Valentine's Day. Patriotism (more important, a national holiday) on Presidents' Day and two of our greatest presidents' birthdays. Oh, and speaking of birthdays, just in case anyone happened to miss it... Doggone it! I told myself repeatedly that this post was not going to contain any reference to my birthday which, coincidentally, also happens to fall on this month. Oh well, at least I saved the best for last!

A Husband's Plea For Help

I normally prefer not to publicly disclose matters of a personal nature (particularly on a new blog), but at this moment of family crisis I feel justified in asking you readers to please keep my wife in your thoughts and prayers. Since Sunday night my dear wife has not been able to eat, sleep nor perform any of her usual daily activities and is practically comatose. All she does is stare at the blank TV screen all day long. We have taken her to several specialists in the area and still have no answer for her unusual, sudden debilitating condition. I don't know if there is any connection or not but it seems that it all started immediately upon the conclusion of the season finale of Downton Abbey. If her condition does not begin to improve soon, then I will be forced to have her watch previous episodes of DA in hopes of at least partially reviving her until the new season begins. Oh, and for our neighbors, while she remains incapacitated, home cooked meals brought to our home would be much appreciated, but please no meat loaf or anything with olives or coconut in it with the exception of German Chocolate Cake.

My Earliest Recollection

Why do elephants have such good memory? The answer is fairly simple. What all do they have to remember? Where to put the peanut after it's in their trunk? Where the watering hole is? Well, regardless, my memory is definitely not Dumbo-like, however, my earliest recollection, no matter how many years pass, will never be forgotten.

A little over 54 years ago I was having a pretty good day. Just me and my thumb as usual when suddenly I felt this tremendous force start to pull on my head. "What in the womb is going on here?!" I thought to myself. Next thing I know I'm being thrown out or should I say pushed out of my tiny, yet comfortable home. Some stranger who I had never seen before then grabs my head and pulls me out into this blinding light and then proceeds to hold me by my ankles upside down and whacks me on my little purple bum! "What did I do?!" "Was I not supposed to come out?!" Obviously, I started crying as it hurt like hell, but I was confused more than anything. I saw him then start cutting my food tube and tried desperately to tell him that I needed that! I'm not only in a foreign world, but now I'm going to starve as well! Next, he sticks this thing into my nose and my mouth and all the while I'm thinking is it ever going to end? Well, thankfully, things got better after that as my mom, who did absolutely nothing to prevent all this, then cradled me in her arms as I slowly fell asleep thinking that whatever happens to me after this day will never be as bad, or, so I thought, but I won't even go there!!!

Prelude

Here, in front of me, is a beautiful snowy white page that I almost don't want to write on (reminds me of not wanting to step on newly fallen snow) but I guess I have to start somewhere. Why the title, "Odd Duck On An Even Keel"? Well, first of all, all the good blog titles have already been taken. That's one of the problems of living so late in the world's history in that nothing seems to be original anymore. Anyway, I wanted to find something that was somewhat original and that also reflected my personality. Of course, I googled the title (I swear Google can almost read my mind as it will display my search words before I even type them in) and lo, and behold, it did not come up! Could I possibly have thought of something original? Well, not exactly, as I just put two non-original terms together. Anyway, for me it's original. I have always thought of myself as just a little different. Not, in a negative sense, but in a way that sometimes I just couldn't relate to my peers. Maybe someday I will go in to that, but much too early and I don't want to scare away any potential readers. Let's just say that maybe I've got a couple of screws loose, but like I've always said, they were probably already too tight to begin with anyway.  Okay, that explains the "Odd Duck." Now, "On An Even Keel" suggests that in spite of my "differences" I have managed to find acceptance within myself and am actually okay with who I am which is a person who loves to create, whether it be with words, music or Christmas Centerpieces.