Beautiful Babes

The five most beautiful women in all of Orlando, Florida. More specifically, we were the five finalists in the Adult Female Sophisticated Commercial Print category. I don't know the official number of competitors, but I suspect there were about 100 "Sophisticated" ladies in the category. For clarification "Sophisticated" really means "Over 30".

Score one for the AARP. After all these years, the old gals are still pretty dang HOT!

Meet and Greet

On the way up to the room at the end of the evening, my new friends and I were passed by this man.....

For those of you who don't recognize him, he is Joey Fatone from the band NSYNC. He took time out of his evening and terminated his cell phone call to speak with us. The Talent Rock folks had hired him to be the MC for the opening ceremonies.

Unfortunately, he would not be attending the competition the following day. Family obligations required him to go shopping with his kid. I can't fault him for that.

He also was back stage when Tonya and I were called back as finalists in the Adult Female Sophisticated Commercial Print category.

I Do Not Bounce

Last night I received a telephone call from my Mary Kay lady, Carol Harwood. She mentioned that I have been somewhat .... slow with posting on my blog. She's correct, I must admit. So, I today, I want to catch up.

Okay, over Thanksgiving weekend, I drove down to Oklahoma to attend a horse clinic hosted by my sister. The clinician was Daniel Stewart, the Olympic Equestrian trainer. The day before the clinic, I was out in the paddock with my niece. She was riding her Morgan, Red, and I was riding my sister's American Warmblood, Stryder. Well, Stryder was doing his own thing and not really focused on what I wanted him to do. He ambled along and instead of turning when I asked, he went for the trees. The last time I rode Stryder, I was clotheslined by the top rope of the circle pen. As he headed for the trees, I noticed a low-hanging branch and I knew I was about to be clotheslined again. In a split second, I recognized that I had a choice. I could either plow headlong into the trees, be clotheslined or hit the ground. Even hitting the ground came with two choices. I could hit the hard earth or I could hit the big rock.

So many choices and only a tiny, tiny fraction of time in which to decide. I opted for the least painful of the possibilities. I hit the ground. The hard earth, not the big rock.

When I regained consciouness, my sister and my mother were standing over me asking me questions. I knew they were there only by hearing their voices. I couldn't see them. I only saw a gray fog and slight shadows about me. They kept talking to me.

"Who's talking to me?" I asked.

"It's your sister."

"I can't see you." I replied.

They asked if I were okay and helped me stand. I was a bit woosey, but I wanted to get right back on Stryder. Unfortunately, my body said, "Nooooo. You must sit right back down." So, I complied.

My mother stood to my right. I know this because I could hear her. I could not see her.

The decision was made....I was going to the emergency room.

It was a good thing I had been wearing a helmet. The big crack in the back indicated had I not been protected, I probably would be in a hospital bed somewhere drooling on myself.

After an initial examination I was told to wait as I would need a CT scan. I sat in the exam room. My sister kept me company. It was readily apparent that I was in the room where sexual issues were addresses. The Stirrups, the Speculum, the Swab kit were all lined up on the cart for easy access. Because I loathe just sitting, I started peaking around. Opening a drawer on the cart, I discovered a GIANT Q-tip. It was amazing. It had to have been 18 inches long with jumbo cotton tip. I suspected it was for a pelvic exam, but come on, this thing was long enough to swab the back of my throat.

After my CT scan, the doctor determined I had a concussion and would probably have a headache. I could have told him that. He didn't give me any pain medication, but it was okay. I still had some from my root canal three days prior.

Back From Orlando

This past weekend, Talent Rock hosted a three-day talent search/competition. I had discovered the event by googling "open call" on the internet. I browsed through the information and decided to give it a try.

I signed up to attend in the Actor category. With high hopes and dreams of grandure, I arrived in Orlando knowing no one. Waiting at the end of the terminal near baggage claim, I noticed a young woman wearing a red Talent Rock t-shirt. She was the first of many providing guidance and directions. After claiming my bag, I followed her instructions and meandered down the hall to the next red t-shirt. That t-shirt pointed me to the waiting area for the Luxury Travel pick up point. On my way down the next set of escalators, I encounted another talent wannabe. Her name is Tonya and she and I became fast friends.

The transport van picked up a few more people at the next terminal. Among those hopeful folks was a singer named Annie. She and I also became fast friends.

After we arrived at the hotel, Shingle Creek, we made our way to the Talent Rock registration room and began the process of becoming famous.

There were several hundred "talent" there all meeting other talent and trying to size up the competition. Identifying other talent in the same category. I met a few model/actor folks, some dancers, some singers and children. Several asked me if I were competiting in the Commercial Print category. I wasn't. I was there for the Actor competition.

By the fifth inquiry, I decided I had better sign up to compete for Commercial Print. It was a good thing I did because by the end of the competition, my hopes of being discovered as an actor were dashed. So, when the finalist for the Adult Female Sophisticated Commercial Print Model were being called up on stage and MY NUMBER was called, I about choked. Here I had been surrounded by hundreds of beautiful people and MY NUMBER was called. I was stunned.

I didn't win the category, but it didn't matter. I was one of five finalists!

Some Thoughts

The other day I attended a Christmas party where gifts were exchanged. One woman there was very excited to receive a case with several different colors of lip gloss. Seems she needed to replace the lip gloss that the airline security personnel made her throw away.

This woman in no way even begins to resemble a hostile person, terrorist or not. She is an older woman, definitely a member of AARP, who suffers arthritic hands. She had planned a short trip and packed her necessities in a carry-on. Before she was allowed to pass through security, to she was forced to toss her hand cream, body lotion and lip gloss. As she is a woman of means, her hand cream was Lancome. Not cheap.

This woman is a very kind person and certainly not prone to saying mean things, wishing ill will and swearing. The requirement to discard high quality creams because of security restrictions really annoyed her.

I understand. I would be unhappy if the first thing I had to do when I reached my destination was to purchase creams. It seems to be a shame to have to opt to check a carry-on simply so I wouldn't have to throw away all of my "security risk" items. Nail clippers and fingernail files, cuticle scissors, hand cream, toothpaste, shampoo. The list goes on and on. The nail clippers and fingernail files are too dangerous. To me, this is simply ridiculous. I suspect I could do more damage with a pen or pencil than I could with nail clippers. A laptop computer is allowed in the cabin, as are hardback books. Both of those items are hard objects that could inflict blunt force trauma. And...the cord from headphones....well...I'm certain some strangulation could be accomplished.

While she was telling me the adventures of disposable creams, lotions and lip gloss, she became more and more agitated.

"I know I shouldn't say it," she said. "But, I hate Arabs! I had to throw away my nice hand cream because of them."