Hey, Where Did They Go? They Were Here Just Awhile Ago!

I looked up endowed in the dictionary and it means to provide with property or income or to equip or supply with a talent or quality. In reference to women, why does well endowed mean big chested or in layman's terms, "She's got boobies!"? The Cunningham girls are well endowed we come from a long line of well endowed women. Instead of lineage we have boobage. Yep, we got boobies! 

Throughout my life I have had to deal with well endowedness. I was the first to get a bra in my crowd. I had cleavage that started at my chin. I was looked upon with awe by my fellow female classmates in the sixth grade. They wished they were me or they wished they had boobies like me. Someone once said that the perfect size breast could carry a pencil under it. I could carry luggage and a small dog. 

Throughout my life they, my boobies, have been there staring back at me. I have spent thousand of dollars "supporting" them. I have permanent dips in my shoulders. I could be carrying a purse, tip sideways and never lose the purse thanks to the many years of supporting them. 

And then one day it happened. I don't when it happened. I am not sure if it happened suddenly or gradually when I wasn't paying attention. One day those lovely, milky white bosoms were staring at me, and then they were no longer looking at me. They were looking south at my toes. My toes are not that attractive, so there was no reason for them to adjust their gaze. It has been years since we have looked at each other eye-to-eye. I was told all I need is a better bra. I am beyond needing a better bra I need a carpenter and an iron worker.

And then when you think it can't get any worse, it does! When I lie down in bed they disappear completely. Apparently my chest is too hard for them and they have decided to escape under my arms and lie on the mattress. I should be happy because now when I lie in bed my face looks great. I think I will have all future pictures taken laying down.


My boobies have turned their loving gaze towards my toes and are hiding under my arms in bed. It couldn't get any worse, right? WRONG! The other day I was laying in bed watching TV and I suddenly got a pain in my chest, and then it traveled around to my back. I was thinking, "Oh, man, I hope this isn't a heart attack. I would hate to have the paramedics come in and find me watching RuPaul's Drag Race!" I was starting to get really worried because the pain was getting worse. Then I noticed my boob had disappeared completely under my arm, and when I put it in its proper place the pain miraculously disappeared. 

I am fifty-four years olds. I am proud to be this age because my parents were informed that I wouldn't live past the age of sixteen. So I have outlived my life expectancy by decades and I don't mind telling people how old I am. I want to know at what point does one become old. Many say age is in your attitude. I have a young attitude. I am very young in my mind. The problem is no one has informed my body how young I think I am, and no one has especially told my boobies. They probably weren't listening. Along with losing their elasticity, they have lost their ability to hear.

Paco's Perspective

Remember when I was a puppy how much I loved sitting on your boobies. I am a boob "man"!

The Flip Side

So that's what's staring at me when I lie my head in your lap and look up at you!

The Games People OOPS! I Mean Dogs Play

Osa is a beautiful, well-trained Akita mix female dog that is owned by my sister, Caren. Osa was a stray. As a matter of fact, she was found under my van at my home in Buckeye. People have a tendency to dump dogs out by my house quite often. My home is somewhat in the boondocks, I guess that is where people like to dump dogs. Osa didn't get along with the alpha female dog in the backyard so I had to find her a home. I knew Caren was looking for a dog for her husband, so I gave her a call. Osa now lives with Caren and her husband, Darrell, in Park City, Utah which is a much better place for her because she is a huge, hairy dog that loves snow, hiking, snowshoeing, exploring the wilderness, Caren, and Darrell. Osa also spends the summers in Montana with Caren, myself and my two dogs, Paco and Flip.


Osa has some favorite games that she loves to play. Her favorite games are: Go, Osa,  Go!, Chase Me, and Fetch. She and Caren have made up the rules for the games, except for Fetch, they have also made up the games. Osa is ready and willing to play these games at any time.


Go, Osa, Go is played in the yard. Caren whistles and yells, "Go, Osa, go!" Osa proceeds to run around the yard with abandon. Paco has experienced this game with Osa for many summers, and he has learned to stay out of the way. When Caren and Osa start playing Go, Osa, Go Paco runs to the topmost part of the deck as far away from the action as possible. This is Flip's first summer in Montana and he hasn't experienced this game, so he tries to join in. As Osa runs by Flip she slaps him with her paw and rolls him like a burrito. He tumbles across the lawn until he runs into a tree or a rock, and gets up dazed and confused. Flip then proceeds to stagger his way back into the game. Apparently, Flip enjoys tumbling like a dryer.

Chase is a game that Osa plays with Paco and Flip in the house. Osa grabs one of their toys and runs up the stairs into the kitchen and then down the stairs into the living room in hopes that Paco and Flip will chase her, and they do somewhat. Paco chases until he gets excited and then he starts "humping" Osa. Paco is a neutered male and I was told, "He won't hump or lift his leg once he is neutered." Wrong! Instinct is instinct, so if you are thinking of neutering your husband, don't! It won't change anything! Osa runs, Paco humps. He humps her leg, he humps her tail, he humps her head, and she flicks him off as if he were a Flea. Flip is also a neutered male, and he has not exhibited any humping prowess until the Chase game. Osa runs, Paco humps, Flip wrestles with Osa and ends up on her head and guess what? Yes, you are correct. In Montana, every day is hump day.


Osa's final favorite game is Fetch. You know Fetch, get a stick, throw it, dog gets it and brings it back. Oh, no, not Osa! Osa has made her own rules. Caren gets a stick and throws it, Osa gets it and . . . . eats it. It doesn't matter how large or how small the stick is, Osa will eat it. Paco and Flip, otherwise known as, Monkey See and Monkey Do have decided if stick eating is okay for their buddy Osa, then it is okay for them, too. Paco and Flip have not contained their eating of the forest to only sticks. They eat sticks, pine cone seedlings, pine cones pine needles, and grass. I am just waiting for all three of them to . . . shit a tree!

Paco's Perspective

Oh, Man, Chase Osa in the house is my favorite game. It's my favorite game! It's my favorite game! It's my favorite game. I don't know why. I don't know why. I don't know why. It just is.

The Flip Side

Would someone please explain the rules to me? All I know is I end up walking funny after every game.

Jumping for "Jay Zuzs"

At one time my sister, Caren, was a a nonbeliever emphasis on the word was. I guess having two handicapped siblings and a father passing away at an early age could cause disbelief. I remember her asking me once, "How can you have faced all the bad things that have happened to you over the years and still believe in God?"

My simple reply was, "How can I not?"

My oldest sister, Chris, worked hard at trying to get Caren to believe. She would look up churches for Caren to attend in Arizona, Utah, and Montana. Caren would go to church with us, but would not go on her own, and she definitely did not like attending churches where an expression of faith was demonstrative.

After attending church with Chris in Texas and myself in Arizona Caren started exploring churches. A few summers ago she surprised me by suggesting we try attending some churches in Montana. A church that was near the movie theater we attended (This was a good lure for Caren because after church we could go to the movies.) was a Vineyard nondenominational church. I knew that a nondenominational church was the way to go for Caren, and I had a friend that attended a Vineyard church in Arizona and she assured me that they were "quiet" worshippers. 

Caren and I entered the huge church and the first thing we noticed was the casual dress, but Montana is a casual place where Berkinstocks, socks, and shorts are worn to weddings. When the musical worship started a very young band got on stage which we were okay with. They started to play and many of the worshippers ran to the the stage and raised their hands in praise and started swaying to the music and jumping which we were okay with. A few minutes later a few people laid prostrate in front of the stage, and Caren gave me a look, but we were okay with it. This continued for about 30 minutes. Suddenly from behind I heard someone shout, "Jay Zuzs heal this woman!" Caren and I turned around just in time to see a woman slapping another woman on the forehead with the heal of her hand. Knowing Caren's dislike for demostrative praise I said, "Caren, we can leave, if you want."

She replied, "No, I am okay. Let's give the preacher a chance."

After another 20 minutes of singing, swaying, laying prostrate, and shouting, "Heal this woman, Jay Zuzs!", I was beginning to feel uncomfortable and I suggested, "Ummm, really, Caren, we can leave, if this is too much for you."

She smiled at me and replied, "This is kind of entertaining. What do you think the preacher is gonna do?" And at that moment the preacher entered. He was a middle-aged man in a basic cowboy "uniform" (Wranglers, and boots). I thought we might be okay and then he started praying and praying and praying and praying and praying. Thirty minutes later, he asked for another song and he hadn't even started the sermon, yet. 

The song started, the people rushed forward, the man laid prostrate, the woman shouted, "Heal, Jay Zuzs!" and then it happened Caren's final straw was pulled. Two woman ran up by the stage and started waving flags. Huge flags, the kind of flags that male cheerleaders wave at college football games.

It had been over an hour and a half and no sermon yet, but there was a lot of praying, shouting, lying prostrate, swaying and now flag waving. I might be a bad Christian, but an hour and thirty minutes is about as much sitting in church that I can do without looking at my watch wondering when things are going to finish up. Thank, Jay Zuzs, Caren looked at me and said, "Okay, I think we can sneak out and nobody will know."

I didn't want that experience to scare Caren away from attending church so a friend of Caren's and I convinced her to try a different church. It was called the Cowboy Church. It was so "cowboy" that it was held at the Grange. On a Saturday night, the three of us entered the very small building where folding chairs were lined up for seating. As I scanned the room, I looked at Caren and said, "I think I recognize some faces in here."

"Oh, you do not," was her reply.

We sat in the very last row, just in case. The small room was stifling hot with the only means of air being two floor fans. One of those fans happened to be next to us, so we were okay. At that time a man and woman entered with their dog which is casual to the extreme. The dog looked like a Bernese, huge and very hairy, and it looked very hot. But not to worry the lady that brought the dog to church proceeded to turn the fan so it blew directly on the dog and only on the dog. 

I continued to have that deja vu feeling. I was sure I recognized people in the room. Then the preacher stepped up to the podium to begin the service and it was the preacher. Caren and I looked at each other wild-eyed and started to giggle which is not a good idea in such a small, close space. Lying on the floor in a far corner of the room I saw them, the flags. I pointed them out to Caren and her eyes almost bugged out of her head. In unison, we turned to Caren's friend, Pam, and giggle whispered, "We gotta go!"

Pam replied, "We can't go. That would be rude. The place is so small and everyone will see us."

"No, really we should go," we implored.

"Come on, girls, you can handle this," Pam insisted

After an hour of sweltering heat with no breeze because the dog needed it, swaying, lying prostrate, shouting, "Heal Jay Zuzs" Pam turned to us and giggled, "I think we might be able to sneak out and not get noticed."

As we tiptoed out of the building someone stopped us and asked if we were okay and why were we leaving? Caren and Pam both pointed to me and said without skipping a beat, "She has to pee and you don't have accessible bathrooms."

I looked at the person with my best crippled kid who has to pee look and squeaked, "Yea, sorry!" 

A few months later, Caren was at a party and a woman asked her to attend a Bible study class. Caren said she wanted to say, "Hell no", but the lady was so nice she said, "Sure, I know where it is I will meet you there," knowing she could bow out. The lady must have known Caren might chicken out and she insisted on picking Caren up. Caren attended the Bible study class and has been going every Friday since then.

In September of 2007, Caren met her friend from Bible study by Flathead Lake and QUIETLY gave her life to Christ. I had the opportunity to hear Caren give her testimony to a large Bible study group and she said, "I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders when I gave my life to Christ." 

"Thank you, Jay Zuzs!"

Paco's Perspective

I don't discuss religion or politics. I just want to say I am glad we are back in Montana. I love the mountain air, and I, especially, love playing with Osa.

The Flip Side

I have two questions: Who is Jay Zuzs? How did that dog Reflection get to Montana? I didn't see him in the van on the drive up. P.S. Osa scares me. She is one big dog.