Have a Holly, Molly Christmas

Here's another Christmas column from the archives. I wrote this one back in 2001, when Molly, our hefty miniature dachshund, was just a tiny wiener-shaped bundle of energy. She is now a large, football-shaped bundle of fat.

After a rough start, this Christmas was a pretty good one for my family. The “rough start” was produced by our new puppy, Molly, an incontinent miniature dachshund who somehow escaped from her authorized sleeping area after my wife and I settled down for a long winter’s nap. The tiny creature then did some stirring all through the house until she found an unauthorized pooping area in the hallway, where she defiantly deposited a special little Christmas gift for her new master, which I discovered with my bare left foot at exactly 6:17 a.m. “Peace on Earth, Goodwill Toward Puppies,” I said to myself as I hopped down the hall on my right foot. If she weren’t so cute, I’d send her to a detention facility for delinquent wiener dogs.

The rest of the day unfolded much like Christmases past.

As always, my wife and I broke our mutual promise to “not buy anything for each other.” She pretended to be mad and surprised when she opened her gift, and I did the same when I opened mine. Neither of us was actually mad or surprised, because we break our mutual promise every year. Sometimes, breaking promises is an essential part of a healthy marriage.

As always, I received another wallet, which I’ll add to my growing collection of wallets from previous Christmases. I usually get about four years of service from a good wallet. They last so long because I never have enough money to stretch and disfigure them. Since 1977, I’ve received twenty-five wallets, but I’ve worn out only six. My current supply will last until I’m 119, at which time I will probably not remember what to do with a wallet. Of course, if I live that long, I’ll receive another seventy-six wallets, which will bring my lifetime total to 101. Perhaps I’ll donate my extra wallets to men who really need them, like the mechanic who repairs my wife’s car. He probably needs a dozen to hold my former money.

As always, generous friends and family members came bearing gifts of delicious holiday goodies. We have enough sugary treats to satisfy every hypoglycemic person in North America. We have several decorative tins of something that might be homemade fudge. We have several brightly wrapped loaves of something that might be pumpkin bread or fruitcake. We have several colorful platters of something that might be an assortment of Christmas cookies. Soon we’ll have something that might be five pounds of extra fat on our butts.

We also received lots of “specialty coffee,” and I couldn’t be happier about it. I firmly believe that a day without coffee is like a day without caffeine. The bags of French Roast, which I love, will be empty by mid January. The bag of hazelnut coffee, which I grudgingly tolerate when nothing else is available, will be in the pantry until September, when I suddenly realize that we’ve consumed all of our other coffee. (Mark’s helpful holiday tip for exhausted parents: If you need a quick, delicious, satisfying breakfast that will provide plenty of energy for cleaning up unauthorized pooping areas, I recommend three large mugs of French Roast coffee, four large chunks of something that might be chocolate-covered almond brittle, and two hefty slices of something that might be banana-nut bread. But work fast, because the resulting burst of energy will last only 23 minutes. After that, you’ll sleep on the couch for several hours.)

The day’s most entertaining moments were provided by a bottle of extra-strength ginseng, a gift from a Korean friend. He said that drinking it every day would make me “strong and virile.” (He must think I’m currently weak and impotent.) Since a guy can never have too much strength and virility, I swallowed twice the recommended dose of the awful-tasting stuff. Several minutes later, I did not feel “strong and virile.” I felt sick and dizzy. I felt dumb and gullible. I felt pale and sweaty. Fortunately, I was able to counteract the ginseng’s effects by drinking more coffee and eating another slab of something that might be pecan pie. I then felt energetic and nervous. As I write this column, I feel irritable and sleepy.

Despite a disobedient puppy, unnecessary wallets and a bad batch of ginseng, I wouldn’t trade my Christmas for anything. I hope you can say the same thing about yours.

After writing this column, Mark Mayfield ate a large piece of something that might be a festive holiday cheese log.

This column is copyright protected. Permission to reprint or electronically reproduce it in whole or in part is expressly prohibited unless prior written consent is obtained from Mark Mayfield

Be Sugar-Free Like Me

About six months ago, I stopped eating sugar. That's right, I completely ended my lifelong relationship with one of my favorite substances. Kicking the sugar habit was one of my New Year's resolutions for 2008, and I'm proud to say that I've survived six long months (and I mean LOOOOOOONG months) without one taste of chocolate-chip cookie dough or a single square of a Lindt dark chocolate bar, or a solitary crumb from a Costco maple-nut muffin, or even a tiny sip of a Starbucks Mocha Chip Frappuccino .

Has it been hard? Heck yes, it's been hard! And if I weren't the Amazing Markimus, I'm not sure I could have endured the constant temptation from evil sugar pushers who were determined to see me fail. ("Come on, Mark, one little taste of this coconut cream pie won't hurt you. Go ahead. I won't tell anybody.")

Giving up sugar was a risky move on my part because I usually avoid difficult New Year's resolutions. Most of my previous resolutions were easily achievable--and with good reason. You see, when people make resolutions that are too difficult, they usually fail, and failure causes disappointment and depression. And everybody knows that disappointment and depression are disappointing and depressing.

Let's say, for example, that you're a morbidly obese 68-year-old man who makes a New Year's resolution to become the highest paid female supermodel in history. Well, my friend, I hate to tell you this, but chances are that your resolution will fail miserably, and you'll feel very disappointed and depressed. But if that same morbidly obese 68-year-old man makes and an easier resolution to smoke more cigarettes, avoid exercise, eat more saturated fat, increase his blood pressure, and possibly die of a massive heart attack, chances are quite good that he'll succeed. (Of course, since he'll be dead, he won't be able to enjoy the satisfaction of his achievement.)

Okay, so maybe those examples are a little lame, but that really doesn't matter. What DOES matter is that I've managed to live without sugar for SIX months, and I truly believe that you can do the same thing.

"But, Mark, what are the benefits of giving up sugar?" you ask. That's a great question, and I will answer it by listing a few of the remarkable benefits I've experienced since becoming The Amazing Sugarless Markimus:

• I haven't been sick in six months. No kidding. Not even a cold.
• I've been sleeping much better.
• My short-term memory has improved.
• I have more energy.
• My concentration has improved.
• I can run a mile in less than 30 seconds.
• My short term memory has improved.
• I can lift a school bus over my head.
• I became President of the United States.
• I discovered life on Mars.
• I brought peace to the Middle East
• And last, but not least, my short-term memory has improved.

Yesterday, my daughter told me that she is going to follow my example and attempt to give up sugar. Please feel free to visit her blog and offer words of support and encouragement. She'll need them.

For more information on the harmful effects of sugar, read my review of Sugar Blues by William Dufty: "Mark's Book Club says, 'Drop That Donut'"

Good Golly, Miss Molly

Because of circumstances beyond my control, I'm unable to write a witty, entertaining, award-winning post for today. Instead, I present the following excerpt from one of my incredibly hilarious, previously published columns. To read the entire column, just click the link at the end of the post. Have a great Memorial Day weekend!

As a struggling freelance writer, I'm always looking for ways to turn everyday experiences into amusing “slice-of-life” columns, and lately, a large slice of my life--in fact, the whole darn pie of my life--has been consumed by a puppy named Molly.

Molly is a miniature dachshund, the second such dog my family has endured. Our first one, Odie (1981-1995), was the world’s fattest barking mammal. In fact, during his long, successful tenure as our top dog, Odie became so large that we removed the word “miniature” from his job description and replaced it with “disgustingly obese.”

Through the first three weeks of my relationship with Molly, I recorded several thoughts, feelings, and observations in my journal. I hope these will serve as a warning to anybody who’s about to fall prey to a miniature dachshund puppy.

To read the rest of this column ("Good Golly, Miss Molly"), click here: http://markmayfield.homestead.com/files/ZTBR.htm

That's Why They Call Me "Amazing"

If you read yesterday's post, you know that I made several predictions about last night's American Idol finale. Well, folks, I don't like to brag, but every single prediction was right on target.

I'm sure that some angry readers are now saying, "Hey, wait just a minute, pal! You predicted that David Archuleta would win last night, and he didn't win, so what's up with that, Mister Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire?!"

I can certainly understand such reactions, but I have a good excuse . . .um . . . uh . . . I mean I have a reasonable explanation. Yesterday, when I was writing my post, I was extremely tired and worn out from a stressful day of being the Amazing Markimus. It's not easy being me, and sometimes the job takes its toll. Anyway, in my weary state, I apparently got my days confused. Everybody does it once in awhile. You just momentarily forget which day it is. Perhaps you think it's Monday when it's actually Tuesday. Or you think it's Friday when it's actually Thursday. Or you think it's Wednesday when it's actually October. Whatever the case, it happens to all of us. And that's exactly what happened to me yesterday. When I predicted that Archuleta would win American Idol, I thought it was Opposite Day.

I hope that clears up your confusion.

If you'd like to learn more about my amazing mental powers, read this published column from my archives: http://markmayfield.homestead.com/files/RZQL.htm

I Think David's Goose Is COOKed

A few predictions about tonight's American Idol finale:

• Randy Jackson will tell one of the finalists that he "could sing the phone book and make it sound good."
• Paula Abdul will stand up and dance.
• Randy Jackson will use the term, "MAD, HOT VOCALS, BABY!"
• Paula Abdul will stand up and dance.
• Simon Cowell will be smug.
• Paula Abdul will stand up and dance.
• Simon Cowell will wink at somebody.
• Randy Jackson will call somebody a "dawg."
• Ryan Seacrest will annoy me.
• David Archuleta will win the title (although David Cook is clearly the more talented contestant).
• David Archuleta will looked shocked and surprised when Ryan Seacrest announces the results of the voting.
• Did I mention that Ryan Seacrest will annoy me?
• Paula Abdul will stand up and dance.

Let's see how many I get right.

And speaking of American Idol . . . http://markmayfield.homestead.com/files/SIVT.htm

Don't forget to check out these wonderful websites: http://www.markscolumns.com/ and http://www.centralvalleyfitness.com/

Thanks For The Comments

Yesterday, I vowed not to post another entry until my first entry has at least 100,000 comments. Well, I'm very proud to report that when I woke up this morning, my first entry had exactly 100,000 comments. Unfortunately, I had to delete 99,998 of those comments because they contained objectionable language, including terms such as "booger-brain" and "butt-face." The Amazing Markimus believes that anybody who uses that kind of language is a real poo-poo head.

One of the nicest comments is from Dominique James. "It's music to my eyes," she wrote after viewing my blogspot for the first time. Thank you very much, Dominique. That's a very sweet, creative comment. And now here's a sweet, creative comment from me to you: Your blog is a "sight for sore ears."

Another kind comment came from Dominique's husband, Chance James, owner of Chance James Photography in Fresno. "The world is a better place," said Mr. James after reading my historic first blog entry. Your words are so true, Chance. So very true.

I just hope that Mr. James and his lovely wife, Dominique, (who just happens to be my daughter) aren't leaving nice comments just because they want me to promote Chance James Photography on my Blogspot or repeatedly mention Chance James Photography in my blog entries. I will NEVER promote Chance James Photography on my Blogspot just because the owner of Chance James Photography leaves nice comments about my entries. Nor will I repeatedly mention Chance James Photography in my entries just because the owner of Chance James Photography happens to be married to my daughter. So if anybody from Chance James Photography is reading this entry, please understand that Chance James Photography won't receive extra mentions on this blog just because the owner of Chance James Photography leaves a nice comment about my blog entries. Do you hear me, Chance James Photography?

By the way, if you're looking for a great photographer, please consider Chance James of Chance James Photography.

Mark's First Blog

Okay, I realize that "Mark's First Blog" is a stupid title for something as historic as my long-awaited entry into the Blogosphere, but all of the good titles were already taken. I wanted an impressive, majestic, memorable title, one that would convey the earth-shaking significance of this amazing moment in Internet history. Unfortunately, the only titles I could think of were already being used. I thought that "The Bible" would be a great title for my first blog, but a friend of mine told me there's already a really old book with that name. Then I came up with "American Idol," but apparently some TV show is already using that one. And when I found out that somebody had already used "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull," I just gave up, and decided on "Mark's First Blog."

Anyway, I have big plans for this blog. BIG plans. I'm talkin' BIG, BIG plans. I'd like to share those big plans with you, but, unfortunately, I have no idea what those big plans actually are. You'll just have to stay tuned to find out. Oh, and by the way, I've decided that I will not post a new entry until I have a certain number of comments about my current entry. After all, why should I waste my time composing new entries if nobody is reading them? That would be really stupid, almost as stupid as the title of my first blog entry.

Many concerned readers are now asking, "Gee, Mark, how many comments will you need before posting a new entry?" Well, I'm thinking about 100,000, so get busy! Of course, comments from family members don't count.

And speaking of family members, I want to thank my wonderful daughter, Dominique, (http://www.dominiquerose.blogspot.com/) for convincing me that blogging would be a great way to showcase my wit, wisdom and incomparable talents. Thanks, sweetie! I'm sure you're already regretting your suggestion.

Well, that wraps up my first official blog entry. Pretty exciting, eh? Remember, if you want more blog entries from the Amazing Markimus, start commenting! Meanwhile, check out these fantastic sites:

www.MarksColumns.com and www.CentralValleyFitness.com