Well, I'm not really back. Just popping in.
The first semester of grad school is almost over, thank All that is good and holy! In the last few months, I had an occasional thought about dropping by for a quick post...but, after sitting for hours and hours and hours at the keyboard writing an insane number of papers for school, there was no way I could bring myself to come here and write even more. Ugh!
I'm sure everyone is on the edge of their seats, wanting to hear all about everythig I've been studying this semester. But, I'm a mean person, so I won't tell you. I WILL say, however, that I discovered I am definitely NOT Social Worker material. And, since I was going for a graduate degree in Social Work, well...you can see how that discovery might have created just a wee little problem.
But - problem solved. I finally figured out what I want to do with my life. I want to be a geek. A computer geek. Specifically, I want to be one of those strange people who lurk in that mysterious room somewhere in your office building. I want to be the person who comes to your office when you call to say your monitor isn't working, so that I can be rude and obnoxious and ask you if the monitor is plugged in and the power is on. I just think that would be so cool. To get paid lots of money to be rude, arrogant, and obnoxious. Awesome! Can you see why I'm not social worker material? Why in the world would ANYONE want to get paid pennies for being nice, helpful, and compassionate, when they can get paid bazillions of dollars to piss people off?
Yep. I'm gonna be a geek. And piss people off. And make tons of money.
Yep.
Hey - Anyone ever hear of Sudoku? I'm addicted. Just wondering if there are any other addicts out there....
12.03.2005
7.31.2005
Thank You, God
Have you ever tried to count all the things that needed to happen exactly as they did in order for a certain outcome to have occurred? For instance -
IF my agency had not closed, thereby resulting in a change in my schedule whereby I would no longer have to be at the office until midnight on Wednesday nights....
And IF the pager I was carrying had not remained silent, allowing me to be at home at exactly the right time....
And IF I had not stayed dressed in my regular clothes, and instead had changed immediately into my comfy, though very raggedy, around-the-house clothes, as I usually do upon getting home in the evenings...
And IF I had not remembered to fill up the tank on the way home from work that day...
If any of these things, and many more, had not all been exactly as they were... In all likelihood, I would not be sitting here full of wonder in front of the computer - but would instead be attending my husband's funeral.
Every moment of Wednesday was orchestrated - and every change leading up to Wednesday was directed - and certainly not by me.
My husband is of course realizing all these same wondrous things - and probably in a much more profound way. Last night he thanked me for saving his life. But, it was not me. Believe me. It was NOT me.
Thank you, most Amazing and Wonderful God, for the miracle of Wednesday.
IF my agency had not closed, thereby resulting in a change in my schedule whereby I would no longer have to be at the office until midnight on Wednesday nights....
And IF the pager I was carrying had not remained silent, allowing me to be at home at exactly the right time....
And IF I had not stayed dressed in my regular clothes, and instead had changed immediately into my comfy, though very raggedy, around-the-house clothes, as I usually do upon getting home in the evenings...
And IF I had not remembered to fill up the tank on the way home from work that day...
If any of these things, and many more, had not all been exactly as they were... In all likelihood, I would not be sitting here full of wonder in front of the computer - but would instead be attending my husband's funeral.
Every moment of Wednesday was orchestrated - and every change leading up to Wednesday was directed - and certainly not by me.
My husband is of course realizing all these same wondrous things - and probably in a much more profound way. Last night he thanked me for saving his life. But, it was not me. Believe me. It was NOT me.
Thank you, most Amazing and Wonderful God, for the miracle of Wednesday.
7.17.2005
I HATE YARDSALES ! !
Hours upon hours in the basement sorting through boxes still packed since our move to this house over 2 years ago...
Hours of figuring out stupid prices and putting tiny little tags and stickers on things....
Load after load of laundry, washing old clothes, sheets, stuffed animals, etc, - a process that totally wiped us out of laundry detergenet and fabric softener....
Hours upon hours of cleaning, dusting off, polishing, rinsing all the trinkets, doo-dads, thingamajigs, and whaddyacallits...
Dragging the husband out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to load the furniture and other heavy items onto the truck, drive to the neighbor's, set up the canopy, and UNload the truck...
And, the amazing result of all the hard and tedious work? My take from yesterday's yard sale totalled a whopping (drum roll, please)
$5.40
Yep. That's right. There is no zero after that "5" and no digit in front of it, either.
There were a total of 12 - count 'em - TWELVE ! cars that stopped at our two-family lalapalooza of a yard sale between 7:15 and 1:30. The weather was clear with nary a drop of the predicted rain and the heat and humidity were stifling.
12 cars. $5.40. Literally DAYS of preparation. I HATE yard sales.
Here and now, PB makes a solemn vow to never, ever, ever host or participate in another yard sale/garage sale/rummage sale. Instead, she will follow her sanity preserving instincts and either donate everything to charity...or just take the crap out back and burn it.
Hours of figuring out stupid prices and putting tiny little tags and stickers on things....
Load after load of laundry, washing old clothes, sheets, stuffed animals, etc, - a process that totally wiped us out of laundry detergenet and fabric softener....
Hours upon hours of cleaning, dusting off, polishing, rinsing all the trinkets, doo-dads, thingamajigs, and whaddyacallits...
Dragging the husband out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to load the furniture and other heavy items onto the truck, drive to the neighbor's, set up the canopy, and UNload the truck...
And, the amazing result of all the hard and tedious work? My take from yesterday's yard sale totalled a whopping (drum roll, please)
$5.40
Yep. That's right. There is no zero after that "5" and no digit in front of it, either.
There were a total of 12 - count 'em - TWELVE ! cars that stopped at our two-family lalapalooza of a yard sale between 7:15 and 1:30. The weather was clear with nary a drop of the predicted rain and the heat and humidity were stifling.
12 cars. $5.40. Literally DAYS of preparation. I HATE yard sales.
Here and now, PB makes a solemn vow to never, ever, ever host or participate in another yard sale/garage sale/rummage sale. Instead, she will follow her sanity preserving instincts and either donate everything to charity...or just take the crap out back and burn it.
7.15.2005
Doggonnit !
Blogger disappeared all my comments! I came back here tonight specifically to see who peeped after my last post.
By the by, I forgot to add the yard sale to my woeful list last night. Oh yes. The yard sale. Who invented these things anyway? Whoever it was should be tortured. Severely.
My neighbor and I agreed weeks ago to have a 2-family yard sale tomorrow....and now the weather is calling for rain. All day. We're still committed, though, because the ad went in the paper two weeks ago. And of course my neighbor listed it as "Rain or Shine." So folks are going to be expecting it. And since the only people who will be out yard-saling in the rain are the die-hard, professional yard-sale junkies, I really don't want to piss them off. They sort of scare me.
I am seriously considering throwing all my crapola out in the yard and sticking a big sign out there that says "Free!! To Good Home or Bad Home Just As Long As It's Not MY Home" - and then running inside, locking my door, and letting all the People Who Like Other People's Junk to make off with as much as they can. It would be so much easier than staying up all night tonight sticking little price tags on every damn thing.
And WHY do I have to put price tags on things anyway? Everyone KNOWS yard sale prices don't mean anything.
Sheesh.
HEY BLOGGER - I WANT MY COMMENTS BACK!!!
By the by, I forgot to add the yard sale to my woeful list last night. Oh yes. The yard sale. Who invented these things anyway? Whoever it was should be tortured. Severely.
My neighbor and I agreed weeks ago to have a 2-family yard sale tomorrow....and now the weather is calling for rain. All day. We're still committed, though, because the ad went in the paper two weeks ago. And of course my neighbor listed it as "Rain or Shine." So folks are going to be expecting it. And since the only people who will be out yard-saling in the rain are the die-hard, professional yard-sale junkies, I really don't want to piss them off. They sort of scare me.
I am seriously considering throwing all my crapola out in the yard and sticking a big sign out there that says "Free!! To Good Home or Bad Home Just As Long As It's Not MY Home" - and then running inside, locking my door, and letting all the People Who Like Other People's Junk to make off with as much as they can. It would be so much easier than staying up all night tonight sticking little price tags on every damn thing.
And WHY do I have to put price tags on things anyway? Everyone KNOWS yard sale prices don't mean anything.
Sheesh.
HEY BLOGGER - I WANT MY COMMENTS BACK!!!
7.14.2005
Ohhh - You Mean One of THOSE Days...
After a long break and before yet another long break, I'm back. Well, momentarily at least. I know how relieved you all must be.
You know those days that are like heaven? Those days you know the world is yours and the birds are singing the beautiful melodies God gave them at the Creation? Those days when you close your eyes and sink into the warmth of simply being, when every sound you hear and every sight that meets your eyes seems to be a most beautiful and blessed gift, meant for you in just that very moment of time? Yes? You know what I'm talking about.... I know you do.
Today was not one of those days. So forget that. Wipe that nice, serene picture right on out of your head. Sit down and shut up while I tell you about my day. Or, rather, my last several days. And - if I were you, I wouldn't make so much as a peep, because PB is liable to come at you like a screaming mad 40-something crazy woman right out of your monitor. Got that? Okay.
My job with my old agency is gone. Dead. Kaput. Wiped from existance for lo, these past 14 days. I am like a fish out of water. Like a pea without a pod. Like a....you get the picture. Ohhhh - I still have my old office. The physical surroundings are the same. My computer is the same. My access to the main LAN is the same - or well, actually, now, it's enhanced. But, never mind. That's not the point. The point is, my home for the last 6 years is no longer my home.
I went to a meeting last week with a co-worker who was forcefully migrated with me, and a whole roomful of people I've known for years in a professional capacity and with whom I am now working. One of the professionals actually used to work with me at "my" agency until he turned traitor and joined this particular one. I was so very happy to be in a meeting with him again. I remembered previous meetings from years ago...our agency was relaxed, informal, and there was always room for levity in meetings..meetings that were sometimes salted with mildly inappropriate jokes and one-liners. Ah, but now. Now. I sit across from my dear friend and co-worker from years past, and am treated to a haughty attitude while a definite air of seniority simply exudes from him. We're still with the City, and I'm technically senior to him. Ack. It took everything I had to sit there and interact gracefully.
Only a few more days of this and I will be winging my way on a much needed vacation to see my grandmother, of whom I spoke 2 or so posts back. Sorry - but I don't feel like linking right now. I'm on a roll.
Watch out.
What the hell is going on with my garden? My beans are dying! The peas that were sweet and ohhh so incredibly delicious are now thin and icky and not so sweet at all. It surely cannot be because I have only weeded twice this year. I told you - after finding that grizzly-bear of a wolf spider covered with a carpet of babies on her back, I was NOT going back to the garden. I figured nature would take over, like in the good old days, when all the land was filled with plenty. Yeah. Right.
I've been overdosing on ice cream and have ballooned by - ohhh, I don't know - maybe 10 lbs since July 3rd. Yes - that was the July 3rd bash I was running on about and driving myself batty over the last time I actually wrote something here.
Everyone LOVES home made ice cream. Admit it. Everyone. So, of course, I made tons of it for our guests. Let's see. There was lemon, cheesecake, blueberry, strawberry, real vanilla bean, chocolate, and....rhubarb. Yes. Rhubarb. The lemon and the rhubarb actually disappeared first. It doesn't matter that I was the one who disappeared them...they went first. Correction. I believe it was the daughter who disappeared the lemon. Regardless, I made tons of ice cream. And had tons of ice cream left over. It wasn't that people didn't eat it. They did. It was more that there was so much other good stuff to eat FIRST that they were all pretty much stuffed to their eyeballs by the time we brought out the cold, creamy, delicious treats I and the daughter and the mother-in-law had slaved over for 2 days. So, the husband, the daughter and I have been eating ice cream every day for the last 11 days - sometimes two helpings a day. And it is STILL NOT GONE! I swear, I think someone is sneaking downstairs to make more ice-cream every night. It's never going to be gone. I know it. I feel it. Especially on my thighs and my butt. And, no. I will not throw it out. Are you out of your MIND? It's toooooo good to throw away! Sheesh. Silly people.
I don't even want to discuss the daughter and her wedding plans. Well, not really wedding plans, because that was pushed back. Sigh.. Mercifully pushed back - about 3 years. It is so hard watching a child grow up and having to watch as she makes really weird choices and not be able to step in and say - HEY! Stop that! You're going to put out your eye! - like you did when she was little. Well, not that getting married would put out her eye - but I think you know what I'm getting at here. I wonder if I should get her shirt...one of those Warning, Runs with Scissors shirts. She would probably think it's cute, and I would be the only one who would know to what it was actually referring. Of course, since she sometimes pops in here and reads my blog, I guess that idea has now lost its pizzazz. (Hi Sweetie. Yep - talking about you. Go away now. Love you!)
And the news. The News! My God, the NEWS! London, Rove, Arrests, SCOTUS. I've been missing it all. Because I absolutely abhor television, haven't been blogging, or checking in with other sites, or even hitting internet news at work. Something must be wrong with me.
Ahhhh. I believe I may have found the reason for my foul and bitter mood. News withdrawal. Well, okay. News withdrawal, water-less fish feelings at work, ice cream over dose, a daughter who has morphed into scissor girl, and very not-sweet peas. You try all that on all at once and see if you can maintain a cheerful disposition and not be tempted to grab the ceiling fan and spin, legs splayed, kicking over every lamp in the room for the sheer fun of it - while wishing the shades were the heads of your new (and not so new) coworkers. Well, okay. A ceiling fan would probably fall out of the ceiling and ruin the whole thing. Especially with my extra 10 lbs of ice cream blubber. But, you get the idea.
Okay. You may peep now.
You know those days that are like heaven? Those days you know the world is yours and the birds are singing the beautiful melodies God gave them at the Creation? Those days when you close your eyes and sink into the warmth of simply being, when every sound you hear and every sight that meets your eyes seems to be a most beautiful and blessed gift, meant for you in just that very moment of time? Yes? You know what I'm talking about.... I know you do.
Today was not one of those days. So forget that. Wipe that nice, serene picture right on out of your head. Sit down and shut up while I tell you about my day. Or, rather, my last several days. And - if I were you, I wouldn't make so much as a peep, because PB is liable to come at you like a screaming mad 40-something crazy woman right out of your monitor. Got that? Okay.
My job with my old agency is gone. Dead. Kaput. Wiped from existance for lo, these past 14 days. I am like a fish out of water. Like a pea without a pod. Like a....you get the picture. Ohhhh - I still have my old office. The physical surroundings are the same. My computer is the same. My access to the main LAN is the same - or well, actually, now, it's enhanced. But, never mind. That's not the point. The point is, my home for the last 6 years is no longer my home.
I went to a meeting last week with a co-worker who was forcefully migrated with me, and a whole roomful of people I've known for years in a professional capacity and with whom I am now working. One of the professionals actually used to work with me at "my" agency until he turned traitor and joined this particular one. I was so very happy to be in a meeting with him again. I remembered previous meetings from years ago...our agency was relaxed, informal, and there was always room for levity in meetings..meetings that were sometimes salted with mildly inappropriate jokes and one-liners. Ah, but now. Now. I sit across from my dear friend and co-worker from years past, and am treated to a haughty attitude while a definite air of seniority simply exudes from him. We're still with the City, and I'm technically senior to him. Ack. It took everything I had to sit there and interact gracefully.
Only a few more days of this and I will be winging my way on a much needed vacation to see my grandmother, of whom I spoke 2 or so posts back. Sorry - but I don't feel like linking right now. I'm on a roll.
Watch out.
What the hell is going on with my garden? My beans are dying! The peas that were sweet and ohhh so incredibly delicious are now thin and icky and not so sweet at all. It surely cannot be because I have only weeded twice this year. I told you - after finding that grizzly-bear of a wolf spider covered with a carpet of babies on her back, I was NOT going back to the garden. I figured nature would take over, like in the good old days, when all the land was filled with plenty. Yeah. Right.
I've been overdosing on ice cream and have ballooned by - ohhh, I don't know - maybe 10 lbs since July 3rd. Yes - that was the July 3rd bash I was running on about and driving myself batty over the last time I actually wrote something here.
Everyone LOVES home made ice cream. Admit it. Everyone. So, of course, I made tons of it for our guests. Let's see. There was lemon, cheesecake, blueberry, strawberry, real vanilla bean, chocolate, and....rhubarb. Yes. Rhubarb. The lemon and the rhubarb actually disappeared first. It doesn't matter that I was the one who disappeared them...they went first. Correction. I believe it was the daughter who disappeared the lemon. Regardless, I made tons of ice cream. And had tons of ice cream left over. It wasn't that people didn't eat it. They did. It was more that there was so much other good stuff to eat FIRST that they were all pretty much stuffed to their eyeballs by the time we brought out the cold, creamy, delicious treats I and the daughter and the mother-in-law had slaved over for 2 days. So, the husband, the daughter and I have been eating ice cream every day for the last 11 days - sometimes two helpings a day. And it is STILL NOT GONE! I swear, I think someone is sneaking downstairs to make more ice-cream every night. It's never going to be gone. I know it. I feel it. Especially on my thighs and my butt. And, no. I will not throw it out. Are you out of your MIND? It's toooooo good to throw away! Sheesh. Silly people.
I don't even want to discuss the daughter and her wedding plans. Well, not really wedding plans, because that was pushed back. Sigh.. Mercifully pushed back - about 3 years. It is so hard watching a child grow up and having to watch as she makes really weird choices and not be able to step in and say - HEY! Stop that! You're going to put out your eye! - like you did when she was little. Well, not that getting married would put out her eye - but I think you know what I'm getting at here. I wonder if I should get her shirt...one of those Warning, Runs with Scissors shirts. She would probably think it's cute, and I would be the only one who would know to what it was actually referring. Of course, since she sometimes pops in here and reads my blog, I guess that idea has now lost its pizzazz. (Hi Sweetie. Yep - talking about you. Go away now. Love you!)
And the news. The News! My God, the NEWS! London, Rove, Arrests, SCOTUS. I've been missing it all. Because I absolutely abhor television, haven't been blogging, or checking in with other sites, or even hitting internet news at work. Something must be wrong with me.
Ahhhh. I believe I may have found the reason for my foul and bitter mood. News withdrawal. Well, okay. News withdrawal, water-less fish feelings at work, ice cream over dose, a daughter who has morphed into scissor girl, and very not-sweet peas. You try all that on all at once and see if you can maintain a cheerful disposition and not be tempted to grab the ceiling fan and spin, legs splayed, kicking over every lamp in the room for the sheer fun of it - while wishing the shades were the heads of your new (and not so new) coworkers. Well, okay. A ceiling fan would probably fall out of the ceiling and ruin the whole thing. Especially with my extra 10 lbs of ice cream blubber. But, you get the idea.
Okay. You may peep now.
6.25.2005
Today's Interesting Find
I know most of you have feed readers, but I came across this news map site today and thought I'd share...
Hope everyone is having a great weekend.
Hope everyone is having a great weekend.
6.23.2005
On a Break
My apologies.
I've been away, or well, otherwise occupied. And, because I know you all adore me and have likely been absolutely consumed with unbearable anxiety over my absence, I wanted to let everyone know that I am, in fact, still alive. Have had some additional health problems, and decided to write June off as a total waste.
Last week received word that my grandmother was in the hospital.
This past Sunday, the 19 year old daughter announced she's getting married in July or August.
Monday my sister had surgery...and the daughter (much to my immense relief) announced the wedding was being pushed back to next year or 2007.
Today, the daughter announced the wedding is now on hold until spring 2008.
The impending June 30th demise of my agency, where I have worked the last 6 years, is creating massive upheaval and much distress at the office.
On the home front, have been trying to finish preparations around the house and yard for our annual July 3rd pool party/volleyball tournament/horse shoe tossing/ marathon ice cream making/BBQ extravaganza.
And, I still need to stain the new kitchen pantry the husband built.
I'm sure there's more, but the brain just clicked "off" in protest and denial.
Even though you probably won't see a new post from PB until mid-July, please feel free to come by often to offer ongoing notes of sympathy and encouragement. You can also tell me I'm brilliant if you'd like. But, it's not required.
I've been away, or well, otherwise occupied. And, because I know you all adore me and have likely been absolutely consumed with unbearable anxiety over my absence, I wanted to let everyone know that I am, in fact, still alive. Have had some additional health problems, and decided to write June off as a total waste.
Last week received word that my grandmother was in the hospital.
This past Sunday, the 19 year old daughter announced she's getting married in July or August.
Monday my sister had surgery...and the daughter (much to my immense relief) announced the wedding was being pushed back to next year or 2007.
Today, the daughter announced the wedding is now on hold until spring 2008.
The impending June 30th demise of my agency, where I have worked the last 6 years, is creating massive upheaval and much distress at the office.
On the home front, have been trying to finish preparations around the house and yard for our annual July 3rd pool party/volleyball tournament/horse shoe tossing/ marathon ice cream making/BBQ extravaganza.
And, I still need to stain the new kitchen pantry the husband built.
I'm sure there's more, but the brain just clicked "off" in protest and denial.
Even though you probably won't see a new post from PB until mid-July, please feel free to come by often to offer ongoing notes of sympathy and encouragement. You can also tell me I'm brilliant if you'd like. But, it's not required.
6.14.2005
The Daughter Shines Today
So, the daughter decided she was going to take full advantage of her day off from work and relax by the pool today. When I left this morning, she was gathering all the necessary items. Swim suit - or, well, at least the spider-web thin strings with the postage stamp sized tags of cloth that passes for her swim suit - towel, flip-flops, sunglasses, hair scrunchy, glass of ice water, raft, car in the yard with doors open and windows down - for music, of course. All set to go.
Um. What was that? I didn't mention - ? Ohhhh, riiight...sun screen. Yeah, that.
She said, oh guru that she is, "I need to be out there by 10:30 or else I just won't get a thing." uh-huh. right. I asked how long she was planning to bake. Shoulder shrug, "Not long." I drove off, with a wave and a smile and the never to be followed motherly advice of "be careful."
Fast forward to the end of the day. I'm almost ready to leave work. The daughter calls. She sounds - well - breathless. She asks if I will please stop at the store and bring home, some, - aloe gel. Ask I, "How long were you out?" She replied, "Umm. Too long?"
I stop at the store and pick up the aloe - the kind with Lidocaine added. She really DID sound funny on the phone.
I believe she'll survive. Right now though, she's not so certain about that. She is supposed to be seeing her beau this weekend (one of those long-distance things) - and now is tormented by the scary possibility that she will be in the oh so attractive molting stage by then. I think she'll also survive that. Again, she's not so sure.
But, listen up folks. All joking (at the daughter's expense) aside...
It is SUMMER. The sun is powerful. Burns are not healthy. If you insist on wearing cobwebs and postage stamps, at least SLATHER on that SUNCREEN! Often. The mother has spoken. You would do well to heed.
And, now I'm off - to go spread more pain-numbing Lidocaine on the daughter's back.
Um. What was that? I didn't mention - ? Ohhhh, riiight...sun screen. Yeah, that.
She said, oh guru that she is, "I need to be out there by 10:30 or else I just won't get a thing." uh-huh. right. I asked how long she was planning to bake. Shoulder shrug, "Not long." I drove off, with a wave and a smile and the never to be followed motherly advice of "be careful."
Fast forward to the end of the day. I'm almost ready to leave work. The daughter calls. She sounds - well - breathless. She asks if I will please stop at the store and bring home, some, - aloe gel. Ask I, "How long were you out?" She replied, "Umm. Too long?"
I stop at the store and pick up the aloe - the kind with Lidocaine added. She really DID sound funny on the phone.
I believe she'll survive. Right now though, she's not so certain about that. She is supposed to be seeing her beau this weekend (one of those long-distance things) - and now is tormented by the scary possibility that she will be in the oh so attractive molting stage by then. I think she'll also survive that. Again, she's not so sure.
But, listen up folks. All joking (at the daughter's expense) aside...
It is SUMMER. The sun is powerful. Burns are not healthy. If you insist on wearing cobwebs and postage stamps, at least SLATHER on that SUNCREEN! Often. The mother has spoken. You would do well to heed.
And, now I'm off - to go spread more pain-numbing Lidocaine on the daughter's back.
6.10.2005
The REAL Agenda Exposed
Sane Nation has uncovered the "hidden" agenda behind liberalism. What a scoop. We've all suspected it, but no one has quite ever come right out and SAID it...before now.
But, go read the rest of it at Sane Nation, because they do a much better job of blathering about it that I do.
Kudos to San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsome for capturing the very essence of contemporary liberalism in his recent statement declaring What Must Be Done About Pit Bulls in San Francisco:So, listen up, folks, because this is important. Those on the left see it as their DUTY to decide what is right and best for us all. Because, of course, we cannot think for ourselves. And, and when we try to think, we always get it WRONG. We must have our behavior changed, and if that doesn't work, our very thoughts themselves should be manipulated to fall more in line with what the Dems feel is best. Only then will we be saved from ourselves."You've got dogs that literally can kill. We've seen it demonstrated. If we can't change people's behavior and make them think what's in their best interests, then that's where government comes along and becomes a bit paternalistic" (San Francisco Examiner, June 6, print edition; for some reason not available at the Examiner's Web site).If Newsome's statement had been a touchdown or field goal, I'd gladly play the statement back several times (including slow mo) to take the full measure of the event. But we're stuck with print, so we'll have to let italics and bold type make the point. Here again is the money quote:"If we can't change people's behavior and make them think what's in their best interests, then that's where government comes along and becomes a bit paternalistic."Perfect, bingo, yes! The primary goal of liberal activist government is to change people's behavior by making them (read: forcing them to) think what's in their "best interests." Who's best situated to determine what's in people's best interests — the people themselves? No way. Leave it to Gavin Newsome and the crew of social(ist) engineers in San Francisco city government. Here's the scary part: Newsome's a moderate in SF politics. (Don't even ask me about Chris Daly, a city supervisor who makes Kim Jong-il seem conciliatory by comparison.)
But, go read the rest of it at Sane Nation, because they do a much better job of blathering about it that I do.
6.09.2005
Garden Surprises
Am wishing I didn't promise an end to the sick posts. But, because I did promise, I now can't explain to you why I was home from work yet again today. Nor can I, in good conscience, tell you that the antibiotics and I did not get along. Nor can I tell you that I was up all last night suffering through a living hell. Nope. Can't tell you any of that. Darn.
What I CAN tell you is that late this afternoon, I decided to venture outside to try to do some weeding in my sorely neglected veggie garden. I mentioned a long time ago that I love planting and eating veggies, but that I hate weeding. This might help explain why.
So, there I am, bending over the 2nd row of pole beans, reaching in between two lovely looking bean plants (no beans yet, of course) to yank the weeds that are threatening to choke them out. And, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of our tiny little pool frogs hop in my direction. So, I turn to look, but now can't see it any longer. I part the weeds where I last saw the little froggy hop. And find myself staring into the many eyes of THIS. Well, not EXACTLY this, becuase I don't usually carry my camera with me when I weed my garden. Maybe I ought to, though.
I had to fight a primordial urge to crush the mass of writhing creepiness underfoot - one of the things that stopped me from doing so was the certain knowledge that, as I was wearing sandals, some of the babies would surely escape and scamper up my big toe for a snack. No lie, the body, covered with the carpet-made-of-babies was the size of a golf ball. Mom's legs could nearly span the width of my hand - that is, if she ever were to BE on my hand. Which, please God, will just never, ever, ever happen.
I forced myself to finish that row, keeping one eye constantly on the mother and young. I turned to start down the next row - and noticed a different type of spider sitting on the bare top of my left foot. That was it. I did not scream. I may have started crying and speaking to myself incoherently. I don't know.
I was out of the garden in 2 seconds flat and heading back to the house. WIth a vow to never, never, never again weed a garden wearing anything less than full body armour. I will have nightmares tonight, I think.
The damn veggies are on their own.
What I CAN tell you is that late this afternoon, I decided to venture outside to try to do some weeding in my sorely neglected veggie garden. I mentioned a long time ago that I love planting and eating veggies, but that I hate weeding. This might help explain why.
So, there I am, bending over the 2nd row of pole beans, reaching in between two lovely looking bean plants (no beans yet, of course) to yank the weeds that are threatening to choke them out. And, out of the corner of my eye, I see one of our tiny little pool frogs hop in my direction. So, I turn to look, but now can't see it any longer. I part the weeds where I last saw the little froggy hop. And find myself staring into the many eyes of THIS. Well, not EXACTLY this, becuase I don't usually carry my camera with me when I weed my garden. Maybe I ought to, though.
I had to fight a primordial urge to crush the mass of writhing creepiness underfoot - one of the things that stopped me from doing so was the certain knowledge that, as I was wearing sandals, some of the babies would surely escape and scamper up my big toe for a snack. No lie, the body, covered with the carpet-made-of-babies was the size of a golf ball. Mom's legs could nearly span the width of my hand - that is, if she ever were to BE on my hand. Which, please God, will just never, ever, ever happen.
I forced myself to finish that row, keeping one eye constantly on the mother and young. I turned to start down the next row - and noticed a different type of spider sitting on the bare top of my left foot. That was it. I did not scream. I may have started crying and speaking to myself incoherently. I don't know.
I was out of the garden in 2 seconds flat and heading back to the house. WIth a vow to never, never, never again weed a garden wearing anything less than full body armour. I will have nightmares tonight, I think.
The damn veggies are on their own.
6.08.2005
Giving Ms. Foley What For
Euphoric Reality is talking to journalist Hiawatha Bray who's had it up to "here" with Ms. Foley's remarks. (h/t Meida Slander) The journalist is a a fellow member of the Newspaper Guild. Yeah - the one Ms. Foley thinks she speaks for. Mr. Bray is so hoppin' mad, he started his own blog (Choose Honor).
He's also doing a few other interesting things trying to get Ms. Foley to either put up, shut up, or sit down. Just a hint here:
I hope so, too, Mr. Bray, I hope so, too.
Go check out the rest of the article, though. And, maybe drop by Mr. Bray's new site to say hi.
He's also doing a few other interesting things trying to get Ms. Foley to either put up, shut up, or sit down. Just a hint here:
Bray has taken it upon himself to not just talk about the Foley incident - he’s decided to act.Partly inspired by Hoffa, I today began my write-in campaign to get on the executive committee of my Newspaper Guild union local. I’m a single-issue candidate: I want Linda Foley to explain herself, and won’t be silent until she does so. And I can do a better job of demanding an explanation if I’m part of the union leadership.
So I went to Kinko’s and made up 100 leaflets, then drove to the newsroom and spread them around. I hope Ms. Foley’s enormity is the talk of the newsroom by this time tomorrow, and that more and more union members will take a stand.
I hope so, too, Mr. Bray, I hope so, too.
Go check out the rest of the article, though. And, maybe drop by Mr. Bray's new site to say hi.
Summer Fun
It's summer. Wanna know how I know?
I know it's summer because I am desperately trying to figure out how to avoid completing my annual professional self-evaluation. Is this just the most annoying, idiotic thing or what?
Evidently someone somewhere decided that wasting a huge chunk of my time - time which could be spent working with clients and doing actual, you know - work - each summer is a Very Good and Wise Thing. I complete this (supposed) self evaluation so that those in charge can then tear it to shreds.
There is no way around it. The eval will get torn to pieces. And believe me, over the years, I've tried numerous ways to avoid, or at least, minimize what eventually turns out to be a collosal waste of my valuable time.
I've tried being totally honest about MY perception of my performance. That doesn't work. Nearly every score is modified by the bosses - sometimes for the better (A Good Thing), and sometimes not (Not a Good Thing).
I've tried the false modesty approach, rating myself lower than what I actually believe I deserve. That also doesn't work. While some areas are modified to reflect a higher rating, others are deemed acceptable and I wind up knowing I totally screwed myself.
So WHAT is the friggin POINT? Can someone please explain to me why I should spend 8 to 10 hours pulling my hair out, trying to be "objective" about my abilities and performance, when the higher-ups are going to finagle the ratings so that they (coincidentally and conveniently) mesh with the fixed percentage requirements for allocation of budgeted merit increases?
My only consolation is this: where normally after an evaluation I would then get to sit down and chart out my challenge areas for the following year and formulate multi-step quantifiable processes by which those areas will be addressed (a task that sucks up another 20 or so hours)...I get to skip this step this year. Because I'm quitting. No, really.
I know it's summer because I am desperately trying to figure out how to avoid completing my annual professional self-evaluation. Is this just the most annoying, idiotic thing or what?
Evidently someone somewhere decided that wasting a huge chunk of my time - time which could be spent working with clients and doing actual, you know - work - each summer is a Very Good and Wise Thing. I complete this (supposed) self evaluation so that those in charge can then tear it to shreds.
There is no way around it. The eval will get torn to pieces. And believe me, over the years, I've tried numerous ways to avoid, or at least, minimize what eventually turns out to be a collosal waste of my valuable time.
I've tried being totally honest about MY perception of my performance. That doesn't work. Nearly every score is modified by the bosses - sometimes for the better (A Good Thing), and sometimes not (Not a Good Thing).
I've tried the false modesty approach, rating myself lower than what I actually believe I deserve. That also doesn't work. While some areas are modified to reflect a higher rating, others are deemed acceptable and I wind up knowing I totally screwed myself.
So WHAT is the friggin POINT? Can someone please explain to me why I should spend 8 to 10 hours pulling my hair out, trying to be "objective" about my abilities and performance, when the higher-ups are going to finagle the ratings so that they (coincidentally and conveniently) mesh with the fixed percentage requirements for allocation of budgeted merit increases?
My only consolation is this: where normally after an evaluation I would then get to sit down and chart out my challenge areas for the following year and formulate multi-step quantifiable processes by which those areas will be addressed (a task that sucks up another 20 or so hours)...I get to skip this step this year. Because I'm quitting. No, really.
6.07.2005
I Will Live, But.......
(I promise this is the LAST of the sick posts)
After lunch today, right before I had to be in court, I started to experience some familiar pain behind the eyes and cheekbones. The pain quickly grew and spread into my teeth and jaw. Lovely. Sinus infection. I kept poking myself in the face just to be sure. Yep. It still hurt.
I'm afraid I may not have made too wonderful an impression on the substitute judge as I was zoned out in pain most of the time. But, I DID manage to not poke myself in the face repeatedly during court, and I didn't actually whimper or moan or faint or anything at the bench. And, what the hell, it was a substitute anyway, right? I finally decided I needed to cut the whining crap and hie my sorry self to the doctor. They actually were able to get me in at 3:00 today. Am I lucky or WHAT?
Am now armed with some kick-butt antibiotics. Which will probably make me sicker than I was last week. But at least I'll be able to poke at my face without it hurting.
I mean, like, if I wanted to. Which I don't.
After lunch today, right before I had to be in court, I started to experience some familiar pain behind the eyes and cheekbones. The pain quickly grew and spread into my teeth and jaw. Lovely. Sinus infection. I kept poking myself in the face just to be sure. Yep. It still hurt.
I'm afraid I may not have made too wonderful an impression on the substitute judge as I was zoned out in pain most of the time. But, I DID manage to not poke myself in the face repeatedly during court, and I didn't actually whimper or moan or faint or anything at the bench. And, what the hell, it was a substitute anyway, right? I finally decided I needed to cut the whining crap and hie my sorry self to the doctor. They actually were able to get me in at 3:00 today. Am I lucky or WHAT?
Am now armed with some kick-butt antibiotics. Which will probably make me sicker than I was last week. But at least I'll be able to poke at my face without it hurting.
I mean, like, if I wanted to. Which I don't.
LMAO
Oh, dearie me.
Feeling a little blue? Tired of all the insanity of the 21st century? Time for a little stroll through a bygone era?
You MUST go here and take the tour.
(Disclaimer: I will not be responsible for accidents such as ruined keyboards, shorted-out laptops, or wet britches)
Feeling a little blue? Tired of all the insanity of the 21st century? Time for a little stroll through a bygone era?
You MUST go here and take the tour.
(Disclaimer: I will not be responsible for accidents such as ruined keyboards, shorted-out laptops, or wet britches)
Quasi-Death Guy In Retreat
It appears that I will live - and that, most likely, I did NOT have the plague.
While that's a Good Thing, it also leaves me with little to whine about. Oh, except that I cracked my shin on the edge of the coffee table. THAT hurt. The husband was on the couch watching TV and just sort of glanced at me. Saw me rolling around on the floor in agony, clutching my shin. Shook his head and went back to watching the tube. He loves me. He really does.
Anyway, just thought I'd let you all know that the funeral is off and I'm on the mend.
Because, I know you were all just terribly worried about me.
While that's a Good Thing, it also leaves me with little to whine about. Oh, except that I cracked my shin on the edge of the coffee table. THAT hurt. The husband was on the couch watching TV and just sort of glanced at me. Saw me rolling around on the floor in agony, clutching my shin. Shook his head and went back to watching the tube. He loves me. He really does.
Anyway, just thought I'd let you all know that the funeral is off and I'm on the mend.
Because, I know you were all just terribly worried about me.
6.06.2005
So - What Didn't Happen, Did and What Did Happen, Didn't?
Warning: Some of the links provided may take you to sites containing articles and material that, upon reading, may very well cause your head to explode. If your head explodes, don't come crying to me. You have been warned.
From Media Slander I see that Ms. Foley sure has some interesting supporters. It seems Workers World likes to go light on verifiable fact and accuracy, but mighty heavy on the propaganda. Hmmmmm. Yep. It's a good fit.
Media Slander also provides a link to a 1996 article by Workers World showing how that publication spun the 1989 massacre at Tienenmen Square. Are you ready? It wasn't a massacre at all. No students were killed in the Square.
Ummm. Maybe we all just dreamed it, then? Mass hypnosis maybe?
From Media Slander I see that Ms. Foley sure has some interesting supporters. It seems Workers World likes to go light on verifiable fact and accuracy, but mighty heavy on the propaganda. Hmmmmm. Yep. It's a good fit.
Media Slander also provides a link to a 1996 article by Workers World showing how that publication spun the 1989 massacre at Tienenmen Square. Are you ready? It wasn't a massacre at all. No students were killed in the Square.
Ummm. Maybe we all just dreamed it, then? Mass hypnosis maybe?
Never Forget
...Even though the MSM here in America would really like us to.
The Anchoress found this gem and links to it on her site. It is the story of the last man out of the South Tower on that nightmarish morning in September. This powerful reminder comes to us from our northern neighbor.
It's worth the time to read. And remember.
Thanks, Anchoress, for sharing the link.
The Anchoress found this gem and links to it on her site. It is the story of the last man out of the South Tower on that nightmarish morning in September. This powerful reminder comes to us from our northern neighbor.
It's worth the time to read. And remember.
Thanks, Anchoress, for sharing the link.
6.04.2005
All Linda, All the Time
Well. Almost all the time. Media Slander is a great place to go to find out what's up with Ms. Foley and the rest of her ilk. (h/t LaShawn Barber ) Just a bit here:
The Political Teen has video of Fox News reporter Jim Angle disclosing parts of Linda Foley's speach at a liberal conference called "Take Back America". Jim quoted Linda as saying,Hop over and check it out.
"The conservatives have got us, as a country, now believing that balance -- giving both sides -- is the same as truth, and there are some things that are just false."
Linda Foley is implying she knows the difference between something thats true or false. Imagine that. Now I've heard everything.
They're Baaa-ack...
The giant, invisible, sneaky frogs, that is.
Well, okay. They're tiny - only about 3 inches long in full leap mode. And they're obviously not invisible. But, they're sneaky. And they ARE frogs. And they're very, very loud.
And it seems they've brought friends.
I'm guessing they REALLY didn't like being flung out of our pool. That's the only explanation I can think of.
So, there I am, all comfy and cozy, propped up by lots of pillows in bed, hot cup of tea on the bedside table, enjoying the quiet of the evening and happily knitting some tiny socks for my adorable nephew, Little Guy. The daughter was tap-tap-tapping away on the computer in the other room. Altogether a lovely and relaxing time.
All of a sudden, the racket outside began. Dozens (or so it seems) of loud, annoying, froggy voices. I was so startled, I dropped a stitch. Which is a really BAD thing for me to do, because while I love to knit, and do well enough to make socks and gloves and such, I STILL haven't figured out how to pick up a stitch once I've dropped it. I usually wind up having to rip the whole blasted thing apart and start over. Which sort of explains why it takes me forever to finish a project. But, I'm blathering again....
I'm telling you..these things are LOUD. And, they don't gradually build up to full volume, either. They're full blast right from the get go. We've been here 3 years and this is the first time they've been a problem.
So, I'm thinking the four flung frogs (plus the one that avoided the fling), are back - with reinforcements. I'm imagining a full on froggy assault in an attempt to retake control of the pool. Well, they can have it. For now. It's dark outside and I, for one, am NOT going to stand guard duty alone against a mighty horde of loud little frogs. Nope. No siree.
But, if they want war, they've got it. Because, he of frog-flinging fame (aka the husband) will return tomorrow. And THEN we'll just see who gets control of the pool.
Until then though, I guess I can (yet again) kiss any idea of a good night's sleep goodbye.
Well, okay. They're tiny - only about 3 inches long in full leap mode. And they're obviously not invisible. But, they're sneaky. And they ARE frogs. And they're very, very loud.
And it seems they've brought friends.
I'm guessing they REALLY didn't like being flung out of our pool. That's the only explanation I can think of.
So, there I am, all comfy and cozy, propped up by lots of pillows in bed, hot cup of tea on the bedside table, enjoying the quiet of the evening and happily knitting some tiny socks for my adorable nephew, Little Guy. The daughter was tap-tap-tapping away on the computer in the other room. Altogether a lovely and relaxing time.
All of a sudden, the racket outside began. Dozens (or so it seems) of loud, annoying, froggy voices. I was so startled, I dropped a stitch. Which is a really BAD thing for me to do, because while I love to knit, and do well enough to make socks and gloves and such, I STILL haven't figured out how to pick up a stitch once I've dropped it. I usually wind up having to rip the whole blasted thing apart and start over. Which sort of explains why it takes me forever to finish a project. But, I'm blathering again....
I'm telling you..these things are LOUD. And, they don't gradually build up to full volume, either. They're full blast right from the get go. We've been here 3 years and this is the first time they've been a problem.
So, I'm thinking the four flung frogs (plus the one that avoided the fling), are back - with reinforcements. I'm imagining a full on froggy assault in an attempt to retake control of the pool. Well, they can have it. For now. It's dark outside and I, for one, am NOT going to stand guard duty alone against a mighty horde of loud little frogs. Nope. No siree.
But, if they want war, they've got it. Because, he of frog-flinging fame (aka the husband) will return tomorrow. And THEN we'll just see who gets control of the pool.
Until then though, I guess I can (yet again) kiss any idea of a good night's sleep goodbye.
Taking EVERYTHING Back
I hereby take back my take back. All the not-nice things I said previously about the husband stand. Well - except he DOES get brownie points for the Apple Jacks.
We've been planning a trip to see our neice who turns 13 in about a week. Her family is getting ready to move across country and decided to hold her birthday party early. I've been praying and hoping I'd be well enough to travel because I really wanted to be there. But, this morning the husband talked me out of going with the argument that I would probably spend the whole time in the hotel room anyway, and that it would really suck to go down there and make everyone else sick - especially when they are getting ready for a cross-country move.
He didn't have to expend much energy talking me out of going. I was already wondering how in the hell I was going to manage being in a car for 5 hours today and the same tomorrow for the trip back. Plus, I figured his arguments applied to himself, as well because, as I related in my last post, he has also come down with the sniffles...which is how this crud began for me, oh eons ago. But, I guess he believes somehow that I'm an evil plague carrier and he's not. He decided to go by himself.
This stuff came sneaking up on me. Started as sniffles and sneezes. Then suddenly, without warning, it morphed into the crud of death. Or, well, not REAL death, of course...more like an "oh, god..I'm sooooo sick I'm gonna diiiiieeeee" quasi-death sort of thing. So, the husband is making the 5 hour drive, by himself, with the creeping-crud following close on his heels, just waiting to strike. If the full force hits him while he's gone, he may not be back for a week because there is NO way he'll be able to make the drive back while fighting off the clutches of the quasi-death guy. And, he'll likely pass along the crud to everyone else while he's there. Which will be SUCH a nice birthday/moving-day present, don't you think?
So now, in addition to feeling sorry for myself, I'll be spending the rest of the weekend worrying about the husband and praying that the rest of the family somehow escapes the curse of the crud.
We've been planning a trip to see our neice who turns 13 in about a week. Her family is getting ready to move across country and decided to hold her birthday party early. I've been praying and hoping I'd be well enough to travel because I really wanted to be there. But, this morning the husband talked me out of going with the argument that I would probably spend the whole time in the hotel room anyway, and that it would really suck to go down there and make everyone else sick - especially when they are getting ready for a cross-country move.
He didn't have to expend much energy talking me out of going. I was already wondering how in the hell I was going to manage being in a car for 5 hours today and the same tomorrow for the trip back. Plus, I figured his arguments applied to himself, as well because, as I related in my last post, he has also come down with the sniffles...which is how this crud began for me, oh eons ago. But, I guess he believes somehow that I'm an evil plague carrier and he's not. He decided to go by himself.
This stuff came sneaking up on me. Started as sniffles and sneezes. Then suddenly, without warning, it morphed into the crud of death. Or, well, not REAL death, of course...more like an "oh, god..I'm sooooo sick I'm gonna diiiiieeeee" quasi-death sort of thing. So, the husband is making the 5 hour drive, by himself, with the creeping-crud following close on his heels, just waiting to strike. If the full force hits him while he's gone, he may not be back for a week because there is NO way he'll be able to make the drive back while fighting off the clutches of the quasi-death guy. And, he'll likely pass along the crud to everyone else while he's there. Which will be SUCH a nice birthday/moving-day present, don't you think?
So now, in addition to feeling sorry for myself, I'll be spending the rest of the weekend worrying about the husband and praying that the rest of the family somehow escapes the curse of the crud.
Gazing at Apple Jacks
Enough already with sickness and plague and the guy dressed in black carrying the scythe waiting outside my bedroom door. My internal clock is ALL messed up now. I've been complaining of insomnia for a while (here and here, in case you're interested) but this is different. I'm not suffering insomnia tonight. Nope. Since I spent most of the day resting and sleeping, now it's time to get up.
Shuffled downstairs to put a load of clothes in the washer, figuring that would wear me out enough so I could go back to bed. Didn't work. So I paid the bills, which are all late because I was already sick enough without adding that to the mix. That didn't tire me out either. I've been perpendicular for almost an hour now and haven't keeled over from exhaustion. Perhaps I'm on the mend. If so, that's really unfair. WHY couldn't the mending have waited until morning so that my days and nights wouldn't be backward?
Oh, and the husband returned from his errand of mercy and brought back a few things I didn't ask for. I have always had a fondness for Apple Jacks. Brings back memories of happy days when my mom would take my sister and me to the store to let us pick out a favorite cereal. She usually bought the icky healthy stuff...like Cherrios (this was waaay back when there was only one kind of Cherrios - called Blehgh!), or shredded wheat - not even the kind with that white cement on top. My sister would choose those Pops things, or Trix, and I always wanted Apple Jacks. The husband actually remembered. What a sweet guy!
Of course, since I'm sick and avoiding milk, I can't have any. But, I did open the box and gaze at them. Did you know they changed the color? Apple Jacks used to be a sort of pale pinkish beige with pinkish red dot things on them. Now some are beige-ish, and some are greenish. What the heck is THAT about? Are the green ones supposed to be Granny Smiths or something? I'll report back when I finally get a chance to try them.
Unfortunately, the sweet guy who brought home the Apple Jacks didn't stay sweet for long. Because, you see, shortly after coming back from the store, he came down with a bad case of the sniffles. He blames me, of course.
Shuffled downstairs to put a load of clothes in the washer, figuring that would wear me out enough so I could go back to bed. Didn't work. So I paid the bills, which are all late because I was already sick enough without adding that to the mix. That didn't tire me out either. I've been perpendicular for almost an hour now and haven't keeled over from exhaustion. Perhaps I'm on the mend. If so, that's really unfair. WHY couldn't the mending have waited until morning so that my days and nights wouldn't be backward?
Oh, and the husband returned from his errand of mercy and brought back a few things I didn't ask for. I have always had a fondness for Apple Jacks. Brings back memories of happy days when my mom would take my sister and me to the store to let us pick out a favorite cereal. She usually bought the icky healthy stuff...like Cherrios (this was waaay back when there was only one kind of Cherrios - called Blehgh!), or shredded wheat - not even the kind with that white cement on top. My sister would choose those Pops things, or Trix, and I always wanted Apple Jacks. The husband actually remembered. What a sweet guy!
Of course, since I'm sick and avoiding milk, I can't have any. But, I did open the box and gaze at them. Did you know they changed the color? Apple Jacks used to be a sort of pale pinkish beige with pinkish red dot things on them. Now some are beige-ish, and some are greenish. What the heck is THAT about? Are the green ones supposed to be Granny Smiths or something? I'll report back when I finally get a chance to try them.
Unfortunately, the sweet guy who brought home the Apple Jacks didn't stay sweet for long. Because, you see, shortly after coming back from the store, he came down with a bad case of the sniffles. He blames me, of course.
6.03.2005
I Take It Back
I hereby take back all the unkind things I said about the husband, here, as he is, even as I type, on his way to the store to shop for all the things I'm craving: cough syrup, chicken noodle soup, crackers, Advil, more tissue, and steak. Yes. Steak. I'll probably only manage one wee bite, but I am drooling at the thought of red meat. I'm sure my grandmother would be able to tell me what that means - to crave red meat when one is ill. I sure as hell don't know. Regardless, the husband is my hero. Or, at least, he will be once he returns with the loot.
Working on day 5 of this nastiness. But, there have been moments of delight despite the crud. Check this out, I came across this old Hoss last night via Muzik Dude who interviewed him here. The interview was hilarious, and I was compelled to visit the old guy's site. He's a keeper, for sure.
Also, came late to the Cotillion. Felt rather awkward, dressed as I was in my fluffy robe, slippers, flannel PJ's, and carrying my ever present box of lotion kissed tissues, but the ladies were all very kind and welcoming and ohhhh so very charming, darling. Go check them out.
And, PLEASE, won't someone get the ball rolling and respond to my poll, here?
Okay - been vertical long enough and am getting dizzy. Time to go get horizontal again....and wait for my chicken noodle soup - and steak - to arrive.
Working on day 5 of this nastiness. But, there have been moments of delight despite the crud. Check this out, I came across this old Hoss last night via Muzik Dude who interviewed him here. The interview was hilarious, and I was compelled to visit the old guy's site. He's a keeper, for sure.
Also, came late to the Cotillion. Felt rather awkward, dressed as I was in my fluffy robe, slippers, flannel PJ's, and carrying my ever present box of lotion kissed tissues, but the ladies were all very kind and welcoming and ohhhh so very charming, darling. Go check them out.
And, PLEASE, won't someone get the ball rolling and respond to my poll, here?
Okay - been vertical long enough and am getting dizzy. Time to go get horizontal again....and wait for my chicken noodle soup - and steak - to arrive.
6.02.2005
A Poll: Whiners vs. Non-Whiners
It's the plague. I'm sure of it. Or, I guess it could be just a really, really, bad cold. But, it's definitely one or the other. Or, it might, I suppose, be a sinus thing. Missed an important meeting this morning because, in my fevered, stuffy nosed stupor I THOUGHT I had set the alarm (which consists of leaving little yellow sticky notes on the bathroom mirror for the husband - he's my alarm, you see), but turns out I hadn't.
I'm one of those people who whine and crave lots of attention and sympathy when I'm sick. I want to snuggle and be cooed over, and have someone say "Oh, you poor thing" ...sort of like my mom used to when I was little. And, not so little. In my mid 30's when I was sick, I would call her just to hear her say that. I know, it sounds silly, but for some reason, it seemed to help. She died 5 years ago, so I haven't heard those words in quite some time...and never will again, doggoneit.
As luck would have it, I married a man who almost NEVER gets sick and who simply does not understand those who do. He actually admitted one time that sickness in others (namely, me) pisses him off and makes him feel uncomfortable - because it sort of implies weakness. Now, ordinarily, the husband is a sweet, sensitive, gentle and kindly man. But, when I'm sick, he tunes out and would rather be just about anywhere than around me. Where normally he will do little sweet things for me, like refill my coffee cup when he's refilling his, or offer to get me something while he's up, or fix me dinner when he knows I've had a hard day - at the first sign of ill health (mine), he suddenly becomes the stereotypical neanderthalish male and all those sweet little gestures go out the window. I, of course, respond by becoming even more of a whining pain in the ass than I would otherwise be. Ah well.
See? I'm even doing it here. All morose and "woe is me" - whine, whine, whine.
This makes me wonder...which side outnumbers the other? Or, are we about evenly divided when it comes to behavior when sick? So, c'mon - When sick, are you prone to whining and craving coddling, or are you the non-whining just-want-to-be-left-alone sort?
(secretly, I'm really hoping the whiners win)
I'm one of those people who whine and crave lots of attention and sympathy when I'm sick. I want to snuggle and be cooed over, and have someone say "Oh, you poor thing" ...sort of like my mom used to when I was little. And, not so little. In my mid 30's when I was sick, I would call her just to hear her say that. I know, it sounds silly, but for some reason, it seemed to help. She died 5 years ago, so I haven't heard those words in quite some time...and never will again, doggoneit.
As luck would have it, I married a man who almost NEVER gets sick and who simply does not understand those who do. He actually admitted one time that sickness in others (namely, me) pisses him off and makes him feel uncomfortable - because it sort of implies weakness. Now, ordinarily, the husband is a sweet, sensitive, gentle and kindly man. But, when I'm sick, he tunes out and would rather be just about anywhere than around me. Where normally he will do little sweet things for me, like refill my coffee cup when he's refilling his, or offer to get me something while he's up, or fix me dinner when he knows I've had a hard day - at the first sign of ill health (mine), he suddenly becomes the stereotypical neanderthalish male and all those sweet little gestures go out the window. I, of course, respond by becoming even more of a whining pain in the ass than I would otherwise be. Ah well.
See? I'm even doing it here. All morose and "woe is me" - whine, whine, whine.
This makes me wonder...which side outnumbers the other? Or, are we about evenly divided when it comes to behavior when sick? So, c'mon - When sick, are you prone to whining and craving coddling, or are you the non-whining just-want-to-be-left-alone sort?
(secretly, I'm really hoping the whiners win)
6.01.2005
Blathering about Riches, Songs, Bed, and Whiskey
Alrighty then. Obviously, I'm not naturally inclined to blog. So, why on earth did I start my own blog? Well, vanity, of course. And don't forget fame and fortune. Both of which are sure to come my way eventually. I figure if I can maintain my current frantic blogging pace of about 2 posts per week - I should become famous and fabulously rich in about, ohhhh, 22.3167 years. Yep. About when I am set to retire. And, please, don't even bother asking what magic, secret calculus I used in arriving at that projection. It's highly complex and would take much too long to explain. Okay. Nevermind. I made it up. There. You happy now? Hrrmmph!
So, although I didn't add it to my revealing account of last night's raucously good time in bed, another song that came to mind that I was desperately trying to remember the lyrics of was "I vanna Be Rich" - Remember that one? Ivanna Trump. Oh, Lordy. The voice that had the power to cause actual, physical pain. I was living in Maine (simply gorgeous state, by the way!) at the time, and I remember that being the one and only song on the radio for about three solid months. Within 5 minutes of switching to any radio station, it would come on. It played in elevators, doctors waiting rooms, and department stores. There was NO escape, I tell you! I wonder what ever happened to her. And when was the last time anyone heard that song?
Let's see. Still have the sniffles. But, I no longer believe it's allergies. I'm now convinced it's the plague. I feel logey and icky and sorry for myself. Sniffle, sniffle. And even the tissues with lotion are too rough for my now tender, rosy nose. After not sleeping last night, I was in court this morning and while waiting for the case to be called one of the attorneys happened to mention "hot toddies" -- - oh. YUM! Does anyone remember those? I was seated next to a young social worker who turned to me and asked what they were. It's ambrosia, baby - well at least when you're feeling yuck and puny. And my mother never hesitated giving me a healthy cupful when needed, though, of course, as the social worker pointed out, nowadays my mother (God bless her soul) would be brought up on a CPS complaint and hauled into court for contributing to my delinquency. God I'm glad I grew up when I did!
Except, we didn't have tissues with lotion back then. Which was probably why we needed the whiskey.
So, although I didn't add it to my revealing account of last night's raucously good time in bed, another song that came to mind that I was desperately trying to remember the lyrics of was "I vanna Be Rich" - Remember that one? Ivanna Trump. Oh, Lordy. The voice that had the power to cause actual, physical pain. I was living in Maine (simply gorgeous state, by the way!) at the time, and I remember that being the one and only song on the radio for about three solid months. Within 5 minutes of switching to any radio station, it would come on. It played in elevators, doctors waiting rooms, and department stores. There was NO escape, I tell you! I wonder what ever happened to her. And when was the last time anyone heard that song?
Let's see. Still have the sniffles. But, I no longer believe it's allergies. I'm now convinced it's the plague. I feel logey and icky and sorry for myself. Sniffle, sniffle. And even the tissues with lotion are too rough for my now tender, rosy nose. After not sleeping last night, I was in court this morning and while waiting for the case to be called one of the attorneys happened to mention "hot toddies" -- - oh. YUM! Does anyone remember those? I was seated next to a young social worker who turned to me and asked what they were. It's ambrosia, baby - well at least when you're feeling yuck and puny. And my mother never hesitated giving me a healthy cupful when needed, though, of course, as the social worker pointed out, nowadays my mother (God bless her soul) would be brought up on a CPS complaint and hauled into court for contributing to my delinquency. God I'm glad I grew up when I did!
Except, we didn't have tissues with lotion back then. Which was probably why we needed the whiskey.
Sleepless. Again.
Yawn. Bunch covers. Sniff. Sneeze. Sniff. Sniff. Toss. Turn. Pound pillow. Turn. Leg stretch. Other leg stretch. Yawn. One sheep. Two sheep. Three Sheep. Itch. Scratch. Sniff. Cough. Damn allergies. Yawn. Open eyes. Pet cat. Purrrrrrr. Roll on side. Snuggle cat. Cat squirms away. Roll on back. Close eyes. Our Father, Who art in Heaven..... One sheep. Two sheep. Yawn. 100 bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beer......82 bottles of beer on the wall. Thirsty. Yawn. Fling arm over head. Apologize to the husband. Move arm back to side. Open eyes. Sniff. Sniff. Toss. Turn. Pound pillow. Deeeeeeeeeep Breath, innnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. Oooouuuuuuuuuuut. Yawn. Close eyes. Still thirsty. Have to pee. Damnit. Clinch. Ignore. Yawn. Turn onto belly. Wrong move. Get up, go pee. Crawl back in bed. Yawn. Bunch covers. Close eyes. Stretch leg. Stretch other leg. One sheep. Two sheep. Cat returns. Pet cat. Purrrrr. Sniff. Yawn. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm. Ohhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmm. Three billy goats gruff. How does that go again? Peas porridge hot. Peas porridge cold. Peas porridge in the pot nine days old. Itsy bitsy spider crawled up the water spout. Eeew. Itch. Scratch. Yawn. No more spiders. There was an old woman who lived in a shoe. How did that one go? Toss. Turn. Pop pinky knuckles. Snuggle up against the husband. The husband grumbles, Dear stop, it's HOT. Roll away. Open eyes. Sigh. You are walking down a looonnnggg stair case. One step. Two. Three. Four. Getting drowsy. Yawn. Nope. Burp. Sister's phone number. Cousins phone number. Childhood phone number. Childhood friend's phone number. High school boyfriend's phone number. Yawn. Sniff. Sniff. Damnit. Dog farted. Throw covers over head. Breathe through blankets. Suffocating. Come out from under. Still stinky. Roll onto side. Roll onto belly. Roll onto other side. Bump up against the husband. The husband snarls, pushes back, grabs covers and pulls. Shuffle away from the husband. Pull smidgen of blanket remnants up to chin. Legs uncovered. Yawn. Toss. Turn. Lose control of smidgen of blankets. Cat takes over entire pillow. Purrrrrr. Yawn. Get up. Blog. Yawn.
5.31.2005
Springtime Froggy-Fling
We have an above ground pool. It's not something we would ever purchase on its own, but since it came with the house, we decided we might as well use it. Our first year here, we learned a lot about pool maintenance...good stuff, like, one shouldn't remove the pool cover in the spring and then neglect the pool for 3 weeks unless one just really wants bright flourescent green water until mid-summer, and.. one should stand UPwind when adding granulated chlorine. We figure now, after 3 summers, we are pretty much old pros.
This year has been unusually cool and rainy, and we've been waiting for warmer weather before opening the pool and thus, creating even more work for ourselves. About two weeks before we opened the pool, we started to be awakened in the middle of the night by a gawd-awful racket coming from our backyard, seemingly right underneath our bedroom window. The husband wisely pronounced it to be a frog that had taken up residence under our back deck.
Now, don't get me wrong. I like frogs. But, this was beyond annoying. Several times, while standing on the deck in back of the house, we were startled by a shrill whining/whistling sound - loud enough to make conversation impossible without yelling. We explored under the deck more than once, trying to find the culprit, which I imagined to be a HUGE frog, judging from the volume. It became apparent that ours was no ordinary frog - and I became convinced he was not only huge, but also invisible....either that or just very, very sneaky. So, being unsuccessful at frog hunting, we resigned ourselves to the ghastly nightly serenades and the rude daylight conversation stoppers.
Last weekend was a nice weekend, and the husband decided to begin the annual pool opening ritual, which includes dropping a pump down on top of the heavy pool cover to suck up any accumulated rain water that hasn't evaporated. This keeps the yucky, gunky rain water from being dumped into the pool when the cover is removed. Soon, we heard the frog. It sounded like it was coming from the pool cover and we watched expectantly as the pump drained the water off the cover. But, alas, even after all the water was pumped off there was nary a varmint in sight. So, off came the cover. To reveal the murky water underneath waiting to be vacuumed and "shocked" and stabilized...as well as the FOUR frogs happily swimming around inside.
I can't even begin to say how they got in. And, once there, how they didn't drown. The husband says he witnessed one little guy literally leap from the surface of the water, fly 2 feet through the air and land on the side of the deck surrounding the pool. I have no reason to doubt him. But, with the cover in place, I can't even fathom how they managed.
None of the little guys were larger than 3 inches, even when stretched out in a full froggy breast stroke. But, evidently when one spoke, they ALL did. All at the same time. All at the top of their little froggy voices. WHAT a racket four wee frogs can make!
The husband commenced to flinging frogs out of the pool with the long handled leaf skimmer. He quickly discovered that the little buggers didn't WANT to be flung, though, and would hop off the skimmer back into the water just as soon as they were lifted into the air. The husband became quite adept, and finally perfected the froggy-fling technique, which, for the benefit of all, I will share here.
The perfect Froggy-Fling begins with a slow motion approach of the leaf skimmer behind the unsuspecting swimming critter, followed by a slow and steady sinking of the skimmer beneath said froggy. Next, the skimmer is raised slowly (so as not to distrurb the water below said froggy) until just before froggy contact, when with a smooth, fast upward swing, reminiscint of a powerful golf-swing follow-through, froggy is lifted (quite by surprise) and carried overhead in a graceful arc until - finally - airborn it leaves the skimmer and completes the arc on its own, landing in soft grass below the pool. Beauty in motion, really.
After removing all the frogs, the husband next bent to remove the filter bucket to rinse it off. Ooops. Missed one. It leaped out of the bucket and, well...the husband swears he wasn't the one who yelped. After giving the husband a lovely adrenalin rush (which I can't help but think was the intention) the frog calmly hopped off the side of the pool into the grass below - off to join his little froggy friends, no doubt.
Our nights have been wonderfully quiet this week. And conversations on the back deck are once again conducted without resorting to bullhorns. Best of all, I'm no longer haunted by the idea of a giant, invisible, sneaky frog living under my deck.
Disclaimer: No frogs, or other critters, were harmed during the course of the froggy-fling. Surprised, maybe. But, not harmed.
This year has been unusually cool and rainy, and we've been waiting for warmer weather before opening the pool and thus, creating even more work for ourselves. About two weeks before we opened the pool, we started to be awakened in the middle of the night by a gawd-awful racket coming from our backyard, seemingly right underneath our bedroom window. The husband wisely pronounced it to be a frog that had taken up residence under our back deck.
Now, don't get me wrong. I like frogs. But, this was beyond annoying. Several times, while standing on the deck in back of the house, we were startled by a shrill whining/whistling sound - loud enough to make conversation impossible without yelling. We explored under the deck more than once, trying to find the culprit, which I imagined to be a HUGE frog, judging from the volume. It became apparent that ours was no ordinary frog - and I became convinced he was not only huge, but also invisible....either that or just very, very sneaky. So, being unsuccessful at frog hunting, we resigned ourselves to the ghastly nightly serenades and the rude daylight conversation stoppers.
Last weekend was a nice weekend, and the husband decided to begin the annual pool opening ritual, which includes dropping a pump down on top of the heavy pool cover to suck up any accumulated rain water that hasn't evaporated. This keeps the yucky, gunky rain water from being dumped into the pool when the cover is removed. Soon, we heard the frog. It sounded like it was coming from the pool cover and we watched expectantly as the pump drained the water off the cover. But, alas, even after all the water was pumped off there was nary a varmint in sight. So, off came the cover. To reveal the murky water underneath waiting to be vacuumed and "shocked" and stabilized...as well as the FOUR frogs happily swimming around inside.
I can't even begin to say how they got in. And, once there, how they didn't drown. The husband says he witnessed one little guy literally leap from the surface of the water, fly 2 feet through the air and land on the side of the deck surrounding the pool. I have no reason to doubt him. But, with the cover in place, I can't even fathom how they managed.
None of the little guys were larger than 3 inches, even when stretched out in a full froggy breast stroke. But, evidently when one spoke, they ALL did. All at the same time. All at the top of their little froggy voices. WHAT a racket four wee frogs can make!
The husband commenced to flinging frogs out of the pool with the long handled leaf skimmer. He quickly discovered that the little buggers didn't WANT to be flung, though, and would hop off the skimmer back into the water just as soon as they were lifted into the air. The husband became quite adept, and finally perfected the froggy-fling technique, which, for the benefit of all, I will share here.
The perfect Froggy-Fling begins with a slow motion approach of the leaf skimmer behind the unsuspecting swimming critter, followed by a slow and steady sinking of the skimmer beneath said froggy. Next, the skimmer is raised slowly (so as not to distrurb the water below said froggy) until just before froggy contact, when with a smooth, fast upward swing, reminiscint of a powerful golf-swing follow-through, froggy is lifted (quite by surprise) and carried overhead in a graceful arc until - finally - airborn it leaves the skimmer and completes the arc on its own, landing in soft grass below the pool. Beauty in motion, really.
After removing all the frogs, the husband next bent to remove the filter bucket to rinse it off. Ooops. Missed one. It leaped out of the bucket and, well...the husband swears he wasn't the one who yelped. After giving the husband a lovely adrenalin rush (which I can't help but think was the intention) the frog calmly hopped off the side of the pool into the grass below - off to join his little froggy friends, no doubt.
Our nights have been wonderfully quiet this week. And conversations on the back deck are once again conducted without resorting to bullhorns. Best of all, I'm no longer haunted by the idea of a giant, invisible, sneaky frog living under my deck.
Disclaimer: No frogs, or other critters, were harmed during the course of the froggy-fling. Surprised, maybe. But, not harmed.
5.27.2005
Showcase Plug
Okay. I admit it (again). I'm always late for everything.
For example, I'm nearly a week late for this, but I want to point you all to Steal the Bandwagon. The Bandwagon has been hosting the New Blog Showcase this week and has done a fine job of it, too. Go check it out.
If you have any questions about how it all works, you can hop over to the Showcase FAQ page. It's so easy to submit an entry and is a great way to get your blog out there if you're just starting out (blogging for less than 3 months). Next week's showcase will be hosted by IMAO.
I was a little intimidated at first - thought I would have nothing of value to share. But, you know what? I realized we ALL have a lot to share. And though not every blog will appeal to everyone, every blog will likely appeal to SOMEone. So, if you are a new blogger (as I am), go ahead and take that plunge. I think you'll be glad you did.
For example, I'm nearly a week late for this, but I want to point you all to Steal the Bandwagon. The Bandwagon has been hosting the New Blog Showcase this week and has done a fine job of it, too. Go check it out.
If you have any questions about how it all works, you can hop over to the Showcase FAQ page. It's so easy to submit an entry and is a great way to get your blog out there if you're just starting out (blogging for less than 3 months). Next week's showcase will be hosted by IMAO.
I was a little intimidated at first - thought I would have nothing of value to share. But, you know what? I realized we ALL have a lot to share. And though not every blog will appeal to everyone, every blog will likely appeal to SOMEone. So, if you are a new blogger (as I am), go ahead and take that plunge. I think you'll be glad you did.
5.26.2005
Insomnia
Blasted middle-age insomnia!
GUYS, DUDES, MALES MAY WANT TO STOP RIGHT HERE.
I've always been something of a night owl, but this is getting ridiculous! I try telling myself it's the friggin' crazy schedule I have at work - two nights a week working till midnight ('cause folks just insist on running afoul of the law even after regular office hours, dangit!). It throws off my sleep cycle, is what I want to believe. But, I know I'm really just playing mind games with myself. I don't want to think about the "something else" that might be involved.
Don't want to believe that menopause (gasp!) is creeping ever closer. Ugh! But, it's what all of my older women friends are telling me. If they are right, then this just really, REALLY sucks. Because, if they're right, then it means I have a lot more insomnia crap to go through. Oh, that, plus the truly pleasant experience of waking up totally drenched from head to pinky-toe for no apparent reason - not even a steamy dream.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Damn.
GUYS, DUDES, MALES MAY WANT TO STOP RIGHT HERE.
I've always been something of a night owl, but this is getting ridiculous! I try telling myself it's the friggin' crazy schedule I have at work - two nights a week working till midnight ('cause folks just insist on running afoul of the law even after regular office hours, dangit!). It throws off my sleep cycle, is what I want to believe. But, I know I'm really just playing mind games with myself. I don't want to think about the "something else" that might be involved.
Don't want to believe that menopause (gasp!) is creeping ever closer. Ugh! But, it's what all of my older women friends are telling me. If they are right, then this just really, REALLY sucks. Because, if they're right, then it means I have a lot more insomnia crap to go through. Oh, that, plus the truly pleasant experience of waking up totally drenched from head to pinky-toe for no apparent reason - not even a steamy dream.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Damn.
5.24.2005
Media Critic, I'm Guessing
While bouncing around the internet following link after link after link in a veritable frenzy of blog-surfing, I bumped up against this interesting site, Davids Medienkritik which serves up generous helpings of "Politically incorrect observations on reporting in the German media." VERY interesting stuff going on over there. Seems the Left is on the way out, surprise, surprise and the conservatives are on the way in.
Just More Blather
Wow. That took a LOT of ice cream! But, I'm back. At least for a bit.
My schedule is way crazy right now. Trying to start winding up loose ends at work so I can leave with a good conscience at the end of July, while at the same time still taking on new cases - which, of course, will wind up doing nothing more than creating even more loose ends that I'll be sorting out at the last minute. It's nuts I tell you! But, I'm not the one in charge, and if the bosses say I have to keep taking new clients, then I have to keep taking new clients. What's my job, you ask? Well, I sort of work for the courts, meet with the folks in trouble, and write an awful lot of reports. Cryptic, I know. Sorry. And, of course, while I'm getting ready for a big shift on the job-front, I'm also trying really, really hard to curb my obsession with taking on more projects than I (or the husband) can handle. Anyway, that's the reason I may not be writing as much here as I would like. But, I'm sure all both of my readers will understand.
So, while consuming large amounts of chocolate chip ice cream and then moving on to Moose Tracks (I was THAT het up!), I spent some time researching defamation - libel and slander. I was truly hoping there would be SOMEthing Ms. Foley could be charged with. But, it appears there's nothing, in the legal sense, that she could be hit upside the career with. Others more well-versed in Constitutional law as regarding the 1st Amendment, however, may still find something. I certainly couldn't. Darn it. But, I think I know part of the reason she was so quick to point out that she didn't say "troops." It's just a stretchy guess, but maybe it has something to do with a thing called colloquium . In a tiny nutshell:
Egads! Look at the time. Sorry to end so ubruptly. Must go to sleep. More later.
Goodnight, Gentle Reader...whichever one you are.
UPDATED at 12:53 P.M. 5/24/05: Heh - heh. "Ubruptly." Looks like I was already asleep. And, although a very proud part of me wants to go in and correct the post, I have decided to be honest and let it hang out there for all the world to see. Serve as a reminder to myself that I'm really not "all that." Happy Tuesday, Everyone.
My schedule is way crazy right now. Trying to start winding up loose ends at work so I can leave with a good conscience at the end of July, while at the same time still taking on new cases - which, of course, will wind up doing nothing more than creating even more loose ends that I'll be sorting out at the last minute. It's nuts I tell you! But, I'm not the one in charge, and if the bosses say I have to keep taking new clients, then I have to keep taking new clients. What's my job, you ask? Well, I sort of work for the courts, meet with the folks in trouble, and write an awful lot of reports. Cryptic, I know. Sorry. And, of course, while I'm getting ready for a big shift on the job-front, I'm also trying really, really hard to curb my obsession with taking on more projects than I (or the husband) can handle. Anyway, that's the reason I may not be writing as much here as I would like. But, I'm sure all both of my readers will understand.
So, while consuming large amounts of chocolate chip ice cream and then moving on to Moose Tracks (I was THAT het up!), I spent some time researching defamation - libel and slander. I was truly hoping there would be SOMEthing Ms. Foley could be charged with. But, it appears there's nothing, in the legal sense, that she could be hit upside the career with. Others more well-versed in Constitutional law as regarding the 1st Amendment, however, may still find something. I certainly couldn't. Darn it. But, I think I know part of the reason she was so quick to point out that she didn't say "troops." It's just a stretchy guess, but maybe it has something to do with a thing called colloquium . In a tiny nutshell:
colloquium (circumstances of utterance showing that the statement was directed against him or her specifically).....The requirement of colloquium makes unactionable defamation of a large group, e.g., a racial or professional group.I haven't kept up with the news in the last couple of days, but I'm betting Ms. Foley hasn't been raked over the coals - not even gently basted - by the MSM.
Egads! Look at the time. Sorry to end so ubruptly. Must go to sleep. More later.
Goodnight, Gentle Reader...whichever one you are.
UPDATED at 12:53 P.M. 5/24/05: Heh - heh. "Ubruptly." Looks like I was already asleep. And, although a very proud part of me wants to go in and correct the post, I have decided to be honest and let it hang out there for all the world to see. Serve as a reminder to myself that I'm really not "all that." Happy Tuesday, Everyone.
5.21.2005
Fuming Over Foley
Well, (*^*!&%%*!! it all to hell. I had just begun regaining a sense of my usual ignorant bliss, when all of a sudden, I come across THIS from Andi's World via a link I stumbled over at LaShawn Barber's place. I'm always late for everything, so I'm sure everyone has probably already heard about the damning charges aimed at our soldiers...oops...I mean't "military." (BTW - be sure to follow the "Blog On" link Andi provides to see Steve's warning at The Word Unheard.)
Now my blood is back to boiling again and I'm 10 miles away from the chocolate chip ice cream waiting in my freezer at home.
I have to leave work now and make the long drive home on dark, curvy, country roads..white knuckling the wheel in fury and probably driving too fast because I'm madder than hell. Note to all bloggers: If I get in an accident, blame Linda Foley.
Will try to add more to this later - after I'm home and have had my ice cream therapy.
Now my blood is back to boiling again and I'm 10 miles away from the chocolate chip ice cream waiting in my freezer at home.
I have to leave work now and make the long drive home on dark, curvy, country roads..white knuckling the wheel in fury and probably driving too fast because I'm madder than hell. Note to all bloggers: If I get in an accident, blame Linda Foley.
Will try to add more to this later - after I'm home and have had my ice cream therapy.
5.20.2005
Violent Lutherans Running Amok
What is the world coming to? First came the ill researched report of the Koran getting a swirly - and we all know what followed that particular "news" release. You'd've thunk the media might have learned something, right? Well, apparently not. I'm coming to this late, but the stories coming out of our very own American Midwest are frightening. We now are hearing, from Iowahawk (via Carl, via Certain Slant of Light) about the terrible fallout resulting from the recent article detailing the supposed flushing of the lutefisk.
Fair warning: Move all beverages out of sipping range if you are near a keyboard.
Newsweek Lutefisk Story Sparks Fury Across Volatile MidwestBut, why don't you go read it all.
Decorah, IA - The debris-strewn streets of this remote Midwestern hamlet remain under a tense 24-hour curfew tonight, following weekend demonstrations by rock- and figurine-throwing Lutheran farm wives that left over 200 people injured and leveled the Whippy Dip dairy freeze. The rioting appeared to be prompted, in part, by a report in Newsweek magazine claiming military guards at Spirit Lake’s notorious Okoboji internment center had flushed lutefisk down prison toilets. Newsweek’s late announcement of a retraction seems to have done little to quell the inflamed passions of Lutheran insurgents in the region, as outbreaks of violent mailbox bashings and cow tippings have been reported from Bowbells, North Dakota to Pekin, Illinois.
Whether the violence was triggered by Newsweek’s report of lutefisk desecration or frustration over chronic shortages of Beanie Babies and Old Style, one thing seems certain – occupying U.S. troops face a steep road to reestablish trust in this tinderbox of ancient hatreds and delicious dairy products. Some analysts say the latest outbreak represents the most vexing challenge to US strategy since its invasion the region three years ago.
Fair warning: Move all beverages out of sipping range if you are near a keyboard.
5.19.2005
Calmer Now
Okay. I realize my last post was maaaaybe just a wee tad bit over the top.
Though, in all fairness to ME, I was rather upsturbed, as my boss likes to say. I'm still reasonably disgusted with the way most journalists and apparently all the media giants have rallied 'round Newsweek and have attempted to blame the whole sordid mess somehow on the White House, because - don't you know, according to them EVERYthing is Bush's fault. Or his administration's fault. Of course. (And, if you don't agree, then you must be an ignorant yahoo.) But, I'm no longer frothing at the mouth.
Just imagine, though, juuuust for a moment...
What IF the White House had issued a release stating that allegations had been made that a Koran had been flushed. And, what IF, after making those statements all hell broke loose in Afghanistan and surrounding areas and people were killed as a result. And then, what IF the White House later came out and said, OOPS, we made a mistake and issued that statement before we had done sufficient research to get all our facts straight. WHAT do you imagine the lauded press would be doing?
Takers? Anyone? Okay, I'll hazard a guess and say that they'd be calling for the President's hide. They would be totally ALL over it, blasting him, the White House, the administration, and any other Republican who might have had the tiniest involvement in setting that information out before the public before it had been thoroughly investigated. In fact, I'll even go so far as to guess the press would be asking WHY the White House had even felt a need to air the statement at all, and they would have been saying that the administration should have KNOWN how incendiary such "news" would be in certain parts of the world.
Okay, I'd better stop now because I'm getting myself all worked up again. I feel a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream coming on. It might help me feel better.
Though, in all fairness to ME, I was rather upsturbed, as my boss likes to say. I'm still reasonably disgusted with the way most journalists and apparently all the media giants have rallied 'round Newsweek and have attempted to blame the whole sordid mess somehow on the White House, because - don't you know, according to them EVERYthing is Bush's fault. Or his administration's fault. Of course. (And, if you don't agree, then you must be an ignorant yahoo.) But, I'm no longer frothing at the mouth.
Just imagine, though, juuuust for a moment...
What IF the White House had issued a release stating that allegations had been made that a Koran had been flushed. And, what IF, after making those statements all hell broke loose in Afghanistan and surrounding areas and people were killed as a result. And then, what IF the White House later came out and said, OOPS, we made a mistake and issued that statement before we had done sufficient research to get all our facts straight. WHAT do you imagine the lauded press would be doing?
Takers? Anyone? Okay, I'll hazard a guess and say that they'd be calling for the President's hide. They would be totally ALL over it, blasting him, the White House, the administration, and any other Republican who might have had the tiniest involvement in setting that information out before the public before it had been thoroughly investigated. In fact, I'll even go so far as to guess the press would be asking WHY the White House had even felt a need to air the statement at all, and they would have been saying that the administration should have KNOWN how incendiary such "news" would be in certain parts of the world.
Okay, I'd better stop now because I'm getting myself all worked up again. I feel a bowl of chocolate chip ice cream coming on. It might help me feel better.
5.18.2005
We Need a NEW Press!!
Everyone by now has heard about the disgusting mucky mess Newsweek created by its shoddy, NON-researched reporting. And, probably most have heard - or seen - the incredibly vile hatred and disrespect shown toward our military and OUR White House by the press in the last couple of days.
I believe it is time for a monumental change. It's time we took back our news and our press. It's time to demand quality and TRUTH, not glitz and rumor. Time we took control away from the established elite media who have enthroned themselves, puffing themselves up in their own minds to such an extent that they TRULY believe they are superior to you, to me, to our goverment, and our military.
The Anchoress summed it up nicely in a post yesterday. Here's a small snippet:
Of course, I have no idea how any of this can be accomplished. But, I truly believe it's time.
I believe it is time for a monumental change. It's time we took back our news and our press. It's time to demand quality and TRUTH, not glitz and rumor. Time we took control away from the established elite media who have enthroned themselves, puffing themselves up in their own minds to such an extent that they TRULY believe they are superior to you, to me, to our goverment, and our military.
The Anchoress summed it up nicely in a post yesterday. Here's a small snippet:
America is going to have to decide, finally, if this snarling, sneering, deaf, accusative, snotty and ultimately unhinged pack is what they want in their most powerful journalists. And she is going to have to make herself heard about it.Yes - we need a "free press" to help ensure and protect our freedoms in this country. But we don't need THIS one - the one we have allowed ours to become. It's vile and disgusting. Putrid, really. And the stench of the rotteness comes from its core. The profession needs to be fumigated to rid it of the filth it has collected. And, if that turns out to be impossible, then we simply need to toss it out - the way we do any other rotten garbage. Scrap it. And start over.
Of course, I have no idea how any of this can be accomplished. But, I truly believe it's time.
5.17.2005
Me and My Projects
I'm not sure. This is just a hunch. But, the husband may be thinking of trading me in.
Two weeks after completing my eight-month-long ordeal with The Damn Chair, I decided to reupholster my two wing-back chairs. Never mind that the fabric on hand was originally bought for slip covers and was not actual, heavy-duty, upholstery fabric. I decided it would work in a pinch. And so, the project commenced. One of the chairs is now about three-quarters of the way finished.
Took some time off from work last week. Was going camp out in the woods a few days, and then was going to finish the Damn Chair - Round 2. Didn't do either. Wound up having a wonderful time mucking around in a friend's computer for days on end, though. The PC work was finished by Friday. And, by golly, I was going to finish the Damn Chair this weekend. But, on Saturday, around 4:00 in the afternoon, as the husband was heading out for his 2-mile run, I was suddenly hit by a strong desire to paint the master bathroom. I quickly changed into my painting clothes and tore apart the shed looking for all our painting gear and the cans of left-over paint (left over from when I didn't finish the master bathroom last year). I hauled it all indoors and piled it in the bedroom.
But, oops. I had forgotten about the incredibly ugly, floral wallpaper border all around the ceiling in the bathroom. Couldn't do a thing until that nasty stuff was gone. Off to find the wallpaper-glue-remover goop and the little roller-poker thing that pokes holes in the wallpaper so the goop can penetrate and eat away the glue. Found the goop. Didn't find the roller-poker-thing. The rummaging-through-the-house phase began. Through all the drawers, cabinets, cubby-holes, then down to the basement for basement-rummaging. Then back upstairs...to look under the beds, in the china hutch, and in the medicine cabinets. Hey - you never know, right? It became apparent that the roller-poker thing had most likely been "put-away" ...by me. Which made the chances of finding it next to nil.
I became despondent. I need shelves, I thought. I have no shelves in this damn house. Everything is beginning to pile up in stacks, I thought, and no one can find anything and it's all because we don't have shelves. Dammit. And I sat down and cried. I CRIED, I tell you. Not for a long time. And not very hard. But, there were tears.
Mind you, all this occured during the short time the husband was out for his run. He came back from his run to find me sitting in the middle of our ransacked bedroom, which now also contained a jumbled pile of painting supplies . I told him I had cried. And that I needed some shelves. And that I couldn't find the damn wallpaper roller-poker thing because we don't have any shelves. I think he may have mumbled something as he went outside to mow the grass. I don't know. Because, before he had made a full pass around the shed with the riding mower, I was out of my painting clothes and into my suitable-for-public clothes, and was pulling out of the driveway heading to our local hardware store.
The helpful, friendly folks at the hardware store knew exactly what I was talking about when I described the roller-poker thing. But, after about half an hour of all of us (somehow the entire sales staff managed to become involved in the desperate search) wandering fruitlessly up and down aisles, it was agreed by one and all that they must have sold their last blasted wallpaper gadget. Probably the one I bought last year. So, I bought a heavy duty wire brush instead. Dammit.
As I pulled into the driveway back at home, I saw the husband leaning caually against the house with a smart-aleck grin on his face - waving the blasted wall-paper roller-poker thing. He found it in the shed. Near the rest of the painting supplies. So, I handed him the wire brush. He said, "wow. cool!" He may have mumbled something else as he left to get back on the mower. I don't know. Because I was already inside and half-way back into my painting togs.
The bathroom was finished by midnight. And plans were made with the husband for what sort of shelves I wanted....in addition to the pantry he's supposed to be building for the kitchen. Bless his heart. A friend of ours summed it up nicely on Sunday. She looked at the husband sympathetically and said, "So basically, the project that SHE began as a diversion from her original project turned into another project which then became a new project for YOU."
The husband made the frames for these "ladder shelves" yesterday. Got the idea here, but we decided to build ladders rather than buy them. We have so much lumber lying around that it's stupid to go buy more stuff when "we" can build what we need from scratch. Went back to the hardware store today for stain (a delicious Golden Cherry), polyurethane, brushes, sandpaper, etc. I spent the rest of the evening sanding the frames and shelves. I figure another two more days of sanding and they will be ready to stain. While at the hardware store perusing the beautiful assortment of stains, however, I was hit by a strong desire to refinish the dining room table and chairs that I refinished and reupholstered last year. The wood is a dark walnut. It really IS too dark for the kitchen, and I really DON'T like the fabric nearly as much as I thought I would. Hmmmmmm.
Two weeks after completing my eight-month-long ordeal with The Damn Chair, I decided to reupholster my two wing-back chairs. Never mind that the fabric on hand was originally bought for slip covers and was not actual, heavy-duty, upholstery fabric. I decided it would work in a pinch. And so, the project commenced. One of the chairs is now about three-quarters of the way finished.
Took some time off from work last week. Was going camp out in the woods a few days, and then was going to finish the Damn Chair - Round 2. Didn't do either. Wound up having a wonderful time mucking around in a friend's computer for days on end, though. The PC work was finished by Friday. And, by golly, I was going to finish the Damn Chair this weekend. But, on Saturday, around 4:00 in the afternoon, as the husband was heading out for his 2-mile run, I was suddenly hit by a strong desire to paint the master bathroom. I quickly changed into my painting clothes and tore apart the shed looking for all our painting gear and the cans of left-over paint (left over from when I didn't finish the master bathroom last year). I hauled it all indoors and piled it in the bedroom.
But, oops. I had forgotten about the incredibly ugly, floral wallpaper border all around the ceiling in the bathroom. Couldn't do a thing until that nasty stuff was gone. Off to find the wallpaper-glue-remover goop and the little roller-poker thing that pokes holes in the wallpaper so the goop can penetrate and eat away the glue. Found the goop. Didn't find the roller-poker-thing. The rummaging-through-the-house phase began. Through all the drawers, cabinets, cubby-holes, then down to the basement for basement-rummaging. Then back upstairs...to look under the beds, in the china hutch, and in the medicine cabinets. Hey - you never know, right? It became apparent that the roller-poker thing had most likely been "put-away" ...by me. Which made the chances of finding it next to nil.
I became despondent. I need shelves, I thought. I have no shelves in this damn house. Everything is beginning to pile up in stacks, I thought, and no one can find anything and it's all because we don't have shelves. Dammit. And I sat down and cried. I CRIED, I tell you. Not for a long time. And not very hard. But, there were tears.
Mind you, all this occured during the short time the husband was out for his run. He came back from his run to find me sitting in the middle of our ransacked bedroom, which now also contained a jumbled pile of painting supplies . I told him I had cried. And that I needed some shelves. And that I couldn't find the damn wallpaper roller-poker thing because we don't have any shelves. I think he may have mumbled something as he went outside to mow the grass. I don't know. Because, before he had made a full pass around the shed with the riding mower, I was out of my painting clothes and into my suitable-for-public clothes, and was pulling out of the driveway heading to our local hardware store.
The helpful, friendly folks at the hardware store knew exactly what I was talking about when I described the roller-poker thing. But, after about half an hour of all of us (somehow the entire sales staff managed to become involved in the desperate search) wandering fruitlessly up and down aisles, it was agreed by one and all that they must have sold their last blasted wallpaper gadget. Probably the one I bought last year. So, I bought a heavy duty wire brush instead. Dammit.
As I pulled into the driveway back at home, I saw the husband leaning caually against the house with a smart-aleck grin on his face - waving the blasted wall-paper roller-poker thing. He found it in the shed. Near the rest of the painting supplies. So, I handed him the wire brush. He said, "wow. cool!" He may have mumbled something else as he left to get back on the mower. I don't know. Because I was already inside and half-way back into my painting togs.
The bathroom was finished by midnight. And plans were made with the husband for what sort of shelves I wanted....in addition to the pantry he's supposed to be building for the kitchen. Bless his heart. A friend of ours summed it up nicely on Sunday. She looked at the husband sympathetically and said, "So basically, the project that SHE began as a diversion from her original project turned into another project which then became a new project for YOU."
The husband made the frames for these "ladder shelves" yesterday. Got the idea here, but we decided to build ladders rather than buy them. We have so much lumber lying around that it's stupid to go buy more stuff when "we" can build what we need from scratch. Went back to the hardware store today for stain (a delicious Golden Cherry), polyurethane, brushes, sandpaper, etc. I spent the rest of the evening sanding the frames and shelves. I figure another two more days of sanding and they will be ready to stain. While at the hardware store perusing the beautiful assortment of stains, however, I was hit by a strong desire to refinish the dining room table and chairs that I refinished and reupholstered last year. The wood is a dark walnut. It really IS too dark for the kitchen, and I really DON'T like the fabric nearly as much as I thought I would. Hmmmmmm.
5.11.2005
Limited Geek
I’m enjoying the heck out of my time off from work, although I did have to go in today despite being on vacation because a client was scheduled for court. Ahhh, the joys of working in the juvenile court system. But, the appearance was only a short one, barely taking 10 minutes, so it wasn’t a total pain. I did a little fun shopping afterward. I absolutely abhor shopping for food and clothes – but I ADORE shopping for “fun stuff,” like fabric, crafty-stuff, and power tools. Then, met the daughter for lunch at an Indian buffet – dal, naan, curry beef, mint chutney -Yum! Then back home for a nap, because I enjoyed the Yum way too much.
And, now, I’m busy being a geek. A friend delivered his laptop to me the other day, begging for help because, “I think it might have a virus or something.”
Turns out it was the “something” that was gunking up his system rather than an actual virus. Nine little somethings, to be exact. Smart little worms and Trojans, each with at least five related files, all doing their level best to hide themselves – morphing, changing their names, migrating to different locations. I’m surprised his machine was even working at all. It was fun tracking down and offing the sneaky buggies. Fifty-six insidious files, total. Each time one was eradicated, I felt a thrill of elation – take that, Sucker! And THAT! Wham! It took a while. But the Geek Warrioress prevailed. His system is now squeaky clean and churning through bits and bytes at a fast, smooth clip. I only had one thing to say when he called for the official diagnosis and a prediction of the laptop’s chances of survival....
GET A DAMN FIREWALL!
We chatted a bit and agreed on an upgrade of his OS and, nice person that I am, I’m installing a firewall for him, too. Totally not what I expected to be doing with my vacation time, but I’m having wonderful fun giving my internal geek free rein for a while. Give me a virus or a worm to track down and kill, a registry to repair, and system internals to mess around with and I’m happy as a clam.
Unfortunately, there is a limit to my geekiness. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to work the damn blogroll thingie. Help? Hints? Detailed instructions in language a kindergartner could understand? Anyone?
And, now, I’m busy being a geek. A friend delivered his laptop to me the other day, begging for help because, “I think it might have a virus or something.”
Turns out it was the “something” that was gunking up his system rather than an actual virus. Nine little somethings, to be exact. Smart little worms and Trojans, each with at least five related files, all doing their level best to hide themselves – morphing, changing their names, migrating to different locations. I’m surprised his machine was even working at all. It was fun tracking down and offing the sneaky buggies. Fifty-six insidious files, total. Each time one was eradicated, I felt a thrill of elation – take that, Sucker! And THAT! Wham! It took a while. But the Geek Warrioress prevailed. His system is now squeaky clean and churning through bits and bytes at a fast, smooth clip. I only had one thing to say when he called for the official diagnosis and a prediction of the laptop’s chances of survival....
GET A DAMN FIREWALL!
We chatted a bit and agreed on an upgrade of his OS and, nice person that I am, I’m installing a firewall for him, too. Totally not what I expected to be doing with my vacation time, but I’m having wonderful fun giving my internal geek free rein for a while. Give me a virus or a worm to track down and kill, a registry to repair, and system internals to mess around with and I’m happy as a clam.
Unfortunately, there is a limit to my geekiness. I cannot for the life of me figure out how to work the damn blogroll thingie. Help? Hints? Detailed instructions in language a kindergartner could understand? Anyone?
5.07.2005
Blathering About Me
Did I happen to mention I was recently accepted into grad school? Well, I was. Not that anyone else really cares. But I'm going to toot my own horn anyway. Because, it is after all, all about me.
Yep - going back to school. The daughter just finished her 2nd semester of undergrad stuff and I was so jealous I just had to join her. I absolutely love school. If I could ever figure out a way to actually earn money just going to school, I believe I'd do it for the rest of my life - or at least until I retire. And, I don't mean "earning money" as in "loans that I will eventually have to pay back." I mean, if someone would actually PAY me 30K a year (min.) to go to school, I'd do it. Piece of cake. I'd even sign a contract agreeing to earn nothing lower than a B in any class. Ah, well. I can dream, can't I?
But, I'm going back. For two years anyway. Since it's a full time program we're going to lose my income when school starts in August. In the interest of cutting as many expenses as possible, we recently got rid of satellite for the TV. Did I happen to mention we live in the hinterlands of No Where? The husband experienced rapid withdrawal symptoms and somehow, somewhere found an antenna that actually picks up most of the channels in our area. Most are fuzzy, but two come in relatively well. I don't know what they are. All that seems to be on ALL the time is one of the many variants of CSI or Law and Order. But, fuzzy reception and repetitive shows notwithstanding, it seems to be enough to provide the needed fix for the husband. He's happy. I'm happy. He mentioned that maybe, in the interest of cutting expenses, we should now get rid of our ISP. I began hypeventilating, nearly fainted, and think I may even have convulsed a couple of times. The crisis passed. The ISP stays.
For anyone still reading - or just staring blankly at the screen - I'm going for my MSW (that's a masters in social work). Figure two years of school, followed by two years of supervision toward licensure and then I should be able to go into private practice as an LCSW. After doing grunt work for years on the front lines it will be a welcome change.
So, wish me luck. Gonna go now and finish my loan app. Oh joy of joys.
Yep - going back to school. The daughter just finished her 2nd semester of undergrad stuff and I was so jealous I just had to join her. I absolutely love school. If I could ever figure out a way to actually earn money just going to school, I believe I'd do it for the rest of my life - or at least until I retire. And, I don't mean "earning money" as in "loans that I will eventually have to pay back." I mean, if someone would actually PAY me 30K a year (min.) to go to school, I'd do it. Piece of cake. I'd even sign a contract agreeing to earn nothing lower than a B in any class. Ah, well. I can dream, can't I?
But, I'm going back. For two years anyway. Since it's a full time program we're going to lose my income when school starts in August. In the interest of cutting as many expenses as possible, we recently got rid of satellite for the TV. Did I happen to mention we live in the hinterlands of No Where? The husband experienced rapid withdrawal symptoms and somehow, somewhere found an antenna that actually picks up most of the channels in our area. Most are fuzzy, but two come in relatively well. I don't know what they are. All that seems to be on ALL the time is one of the many variants of CSI or Law and Order. But, fuzzy reception and repetitive shows notwithstanding, it seems to be enough to provide the needed fix for the husband. He's happy. I'm happy. He mentioned that maybe, in the interest of cutting expenses, we should now get rid of our ISP. I began hypeventilating, nearly fainted, and think I may even have convulsed a couple of times. The crisis passed. The ISP stays.
For anyone still reading - or just staring blankly at the screen - I'm going for my MSW (that's a masters in social work). Figure two years of school, followed by two years of supervision toward licensure and then I should be able to go into private practice as an LCSW. After doing grunt work for years on the front lines it will be a welcome change.
So, wish me luck. Gonna go now and finish my loan app. Oh joy of joys.
5.06.2005
National Day of Prayer in the Woods
Okay. I'm back. A week late - but hey. Back is back, right?
The Mohawk thing was sort of a bummer. I didn't stay for the full three days. Didn't even manage to make it through day one. Got there on Friday and the weather was cold and drizzly. I HATE the cold! Nothing will foul up my mood faster than being cold. Unless it's being cold and WET. Which is exactly what I was by lunch-time on Friday. And that was enough for me. Didn't even stay long enough to meet all those interesting folks, although before I left, I did remember my manners and introduce myself to the Mohawk elder who was leading this particular ceremonial/teaching/storytelling shin-dig. Several friends, of obviously hardier stock than I, managed to stay for the entire three days. I'm told the last day was even half-way pleasant, weather-wise.
I'm officially on vacation now. For the past week I have been busily getting my ducks in a row at work in preparation for my absence, so haven't had much energy, time, or interest for blogging. For my vacation I made plans to camp out and pray in my woods from yesterday through Sunday (Mom's Day) with no food, water, or appreciable shelter - it's called "fasting" - but the weather around here is acting like late-winter rather than mid-spring, and I think I already said I HATE being cold! Well that, plus something else came up which I won't go into. Regardless, the end result is that I'm sitting here at the keyboard, drinking coffee at 1:30 a.m., all warm and comfy and bundled in my wool slippers, flannel pj's and fleece robe instead of freezing my ass off in the woods.
I DID, however, manage to do what I had planned to do for the first day of my fast. Which was to pray for as many people as I possibly could. I started with the husband and the daughter and then just sort of spiraled out from there to extended family, friends, neighbors, etc. By the end of the day I was absolutely amazed at how many people I know and care about. I had no idea praying for everyone would keep me busy all day long, morning till evening. But it did. I also threw in prayers for our nation's leaders for good measure. All in all, I'd say it was a day well spent. And now, for the interesting piece...I had NO IDEA it was the National Day of Prayer. It was a wonderful discovery - to know that I was joining my prayers with so many others nationwide. Way cool!
Will be planning another fast in the woods soon. But not before the weather untangles itself and figures out which damn season it is. Going without food and water for several days is hard enough without being miserably cold as well. And, before anyone tries to lecture me about going without food, water, or fluids of any kind for 3 or 4 days, let me just throw this out there for your edification - People all over the world have fasted and prayed this way for centuries. Entering purposefully into this state in a mindful, prayerful way makes a world of difference in the way the body responds. I realize of course that some folks won't believe me. And, they're the ones who probably shouldn't try this at home.
(Note: If anyone reads this and thinks they might want to try a prayer fast this way... Do NOT attempt it without proper preparation by a minister, spiritual elder, or physician, and always, always, always have a supportive helper nearby - preferably someone who knows basic first-aid, CPR, and your exact location.)
The Mohawk thing was sort of a bummer. I didn't stay for the full three days. Didn't even manage to make it through day one. Got there on Friday and the weather was cold and drizzly. I HATE the cold! Nothing will foul up my mood faster than being cold. Unless it's being cold and WET. Which is exactly what I was by lunch-time on Friday. And that was enough for me. Didn't even stay long enough to meet all those interesting folks, although before I left, I did remember my manners and introduce myself to the Mohawk elder who was leading this particular ceremonial/teaching/storytelling shin-dig. Several friends, of obviously hardier stock than I, managed to stay for the entire three days. I'm told the last day was even half-way pleasant, weather-wise.
I'm officially on vacation now. For the past week I have been busily getting my ducks in a row at work in preparation for my absence, so haven't had much energy, time, or interest for blogging. For my vacation I made plans to camp out and pray in my woods from yesterday through Sunday (Mom's Day) with no food, water, or appreciable shelter - it's called "fasting" - but the weather around here is acting like late-winter rather than mid-spring, and I think I already said I HATE being cold! Well that, plus something else came up which I won't go into. Regardless, the end result is that I'm sitting here at the keyboard, drinking coffee at 1:30 a.m., all warm and comfy and bundled in my wool slippers, flannel pj's and fleece robe instead of freezing my ass off in the woods.
I DID, however, manage to do what I had planned to do for the first day of my fast. Which was to pray for as many people as I possibly could. I started with the husband and the daughter and then just sort of spiraled out from there to extended family, friends, neighbors, etc. By the end of the day I was absolutely amazed at how many people I know and care about. I had no idea praying for everyone would keep me busy all day long, morning till evening. But it did. I also threw in prayers for our nation's leaders for good measure. All in all, I'd say it was a day well spent. And now, for the interesting piece...I had NO IDEA it was the National Day of Prayer. It was a wonderful discovery - to know that I was joining my prayers with so many others nationwide. Way cool!
Will be planning another fast in the woods soon. But not before the weather untangles itself and figures out which damn season it is. Going without food and water for several days is hard enough without being miserably cold as well. And, before anyone tries to lecture me about going without food, water, or fluids of any kind for 3 or 4 days, let me just throw this out there for your edification - People all over the world have fasted and prayed this way for centuries. Entering purposefully into this state in a mindful, prayerful way makes a world of difference in the way the body responds. I realize of course that some folks won't believe me. And, they're the ones who probably shouldn't try this at home.
(Note: If anyone reads this and thinks they might want to try a prayer fast this way... Do NOT attempt it without proper preparation by a minister, spiritual elder, or physician, and always, always, always have a supportive helper nearby - preferably someone who knows basic first-aid, CPR, and your exact location.)
4.28.2005
PB's Weekend Starting Early
So, I won't be posting until Sunday or Monday... Unless I come across something really bizarre or entertaining before I leave tomorrow morning.
Am heading off to enjoy a several-day-long "Mohawk gathering" where, no doubt, I'll meet some very interesting people, and maybe even learn a thing or two.
Have a wonderful and safe weekend everyone.
Am heading off to enjoy a several-day-long "Mohawk gathering" where, no doubt, I'll meet some very interesting people, and maybe even learn a thing or two.
Have a wonderful and safe weekend everyone.
4.27.2005
Women in the Catholic Church
While catching up on my Corner reading, I came across a Sunday post by K-Lo that points to this piece by Pia de Solenni in the Washington Post. Here's just a little bit:
So where do I fit into the picture as a woman? Unfortunately, the discussion has centered on priesthood for so long that we've only recently begun to explore what is unique to women. For Catholics, the most perfect human being was a woman -- Mary, the mother of God. Scripture makes clear that she understood more than anyone and that she had an essential role in the redemption of humanity. It depended on her "Yes," her willingness and capacity to become Jesus's mother, a role that did not end with his birth.It is a lovely piece and, knowing my limitations, I will not attempt to comment on the article. However, I would absolutely LOVE to read what the Anchoress may have to say about it (if she is so inclined, of course) when she returns. She is so much more articulate than I, and this would be right up her alley.
Benedict XVI won't change the church's positions on women's ordination, birth control or abortion. He can't change what flows from the core teachings of the Catholic faith. But under his leadership we can expect to have an extensive continuation of the conversations necessary for understanding these teachings.
4.26.2005
May I Have Your Attention, Please...
All visitors are invited and encouraged to dash over to My Vast Right Wing Conspiracy, for some not-so-silly news - and a timely reminder for anyone who either IS a woman, or who KNOWS one.
Prayers are with you Laura...
Prayers are with you Laura...
Principal Equals Police? Who Knew?
This incredible idiocy is likely to make my head explode before I reach the end, but I will try to muscle though it.
The administrators (former administrators?) at the center of the Mifflin High School sexual assault case are taking great pains to.... pass the buck.
The 16-year-old special education student reported to the principal that she had been hit and forced to give oral sex to two boys. According to Suzie Retterer-Helfrich , one of the assistant principals, neither she nor the other two assistant principals called police because:
Oh - and SO sorry this has been hard for you,
And then, there's Regina Crenshaw, the principal who was fired. She gave a news conference today. It's here, but you'll need to scroll down a couple of stories to get to the video (that's all there is at this point). She is extremely worried that her reputation may be at stake and desperately wants people to know she's a deeply committed religious woman.
You know, Ms. Crenshaw, I could care less whether you are Christian, Buddist, Halle Bop-ist, or whether you worship at the feet of Quatzecoatl, the great flying serpent. How in the world does that have any bearing on your deplorable, irresponsible, STUPID decision to not call the police - or even the girl's father?
I'm really hoping the other two assistant principals can just keep their mouths shut. You know. Show some appropriate humility for how badly they screwed up. Hopefully not be so damned concerned about appearances.
Ohhh, and perhaps, maybe they can be more concerned with the girl and what she went through, rather than whining and complaining about how horrible this has been for the administrators and their reputations.
My head is, surprisingly, still intact. Just in case anyone was wondering.
The administrators (former administrators?) at the center of the Mifflin High School sexual assault case are taking great pains to.... pass the buck.
The 16-year-old special education student reported to the principal that she had been hit and forced to give oral sex to two boys. According to Suzie Retterer-Helfrich , one of the assistant principals, neither she nor the other two assistant principals called police because:
"Our investigation was very thorough," Retterer-Helfrich says. “Nobody mishandled the situation.”Okay - first of all, Ms. Retterer-Helfrech, it is not up to you to determine whether or not a crime has been committed. It is certainly not for you to decide that someone who reports she was hit and forced to give oral sex to two boys was actually engaging in consensual sex. I think, Ms. R-H, you must be confusing yourself with the POLICE! It is police who conduct investigations and gather evidence to determine whether or not a crime has been committed. And, it is during their investigation - or later, in court, with actual attorneys and everything, where it will be decided whether or not the incident was "consensual."
"No one, absolutely no one that day believes there was personal injury or an assault situation,” is how Retterer-Helfrich says the school administration assessed the report.
...Administrators did gather evidence and start an investigation, she says. But according to her, they believed it was a "sexual misconduct" incident: in other words, consensual.
“Police are not called when there’s supposition of sexual misconduct. That's a disciplinary action," explained Retterer-Helfrich.
Oh - and SO sorry this has been hard for you,
"I hope that it hasn't ruined my career,” she adds. "This has been quite an ordeal. It's not over. It's not over."I'm just sure the poor girl's troubles pale in comparison to the "ordeal" you are going through.
And then, there's Regina Crenshaw, the principal who was fired. She gave a news conference today. It's here, but you'll need to scroll down a couple of stories to get to the video (that's all there is at this point). She is extremely worried that her reputation may be at stake and desperately wants people to know she's a deeply committed religious woman.
You know, Ms. Crenshaw, I could care less whether you are Christian, Buddist, Halle Bop-ist, or whether you worship at the feet of Quatzecoatl, the great flying serpent. How in the world does that have any bearing on your deplorable, irresponsible, STUPID decision to not call the police - or even the girl's father?
I'm really hoping the other two assistant principals can just keep their mouths shut. You know. Show some appropriate humility for how badly they screwed up. Hopefully not be so damned concerned about appearances.
Ohhh, and perhaps, maybe they can be more concerned with the girl and what she went through, rather than whining and complaining about how horrible this has been for the administrators and their reputations.
My head is, surprisingly, still intact. Just in case anyone was wondering.
4.24.2005
Senate Compromise Plan
David Broder over at the Washington Post has an interesting idea (reg. req.) about how to get beyond the wrangling over fillibustering and the very real possibility of the "nuclear option." I'm actually quite surprised to see this in WahPo, as it seems pretty sound. But, what do I know? I've already admitted I don't know much; I just like to blather. Maybe some brighter minds than mine can find problems with Mr. Broder's reasoning. I sure can't, but am willing to be educated by any who wish to set me straight.
4.23.2005
World Gone Nuts
There is one story that I commented on a few days ago, about a special education student in Columbus, OH who was beaten and forced to perform oral sex on several boys while others watched and even videotaped it. I found out tonight that the boy who videotaped the incident is appealing his expulsion - because, well, he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, don't ya know, and didn't really intend to tape the poor girl being beaten and falling to her knees in terror and being threatened with more bodily harm if she cried out, and then having a penis forced into her mouth. Of COURSE! Why didn't I think of that? Isn't that brilliant? The poor, unfortunate boy shouldn't be expelled because, even though he was there, and totally did what he's accused of doing, it's not his fault because if he hadn't been at that place at that time, he wouldn't have done it.
I hope I cleared that up for all of you who may have been confused about this.
And here, yet another story about another school - this time in San Francisco. A 14-year-old girl, apparently distraught, reports to the principal that she has just been sexually assaulted, but does the school call the police? Of COURSE not. Why would the school do THAT? Don't be silly. They called her parents, and then told her to get on the bus and go home. But, instead, this remarkable girl actually WALKED herself to the nearby police station to make the report the school refused to. Has the world just gone friggin NUTS!?
I was just talking to the daughter about these incidents, and also relaying to her some of the interesting stories that have been on SC&A lately. I asked her if it was as common as is being portrayed..kids giving kids blowjobs in the bathrooms, etc. She graduated two years ago, but she said even then it was happening all the time. And, it was partly for that very reason that during her senior year the school instituted a policy requiring bathrooms be kept locked during classes and only unlocked during class changes...with a teacher posted outside OR INSIDE each bathroom. I had never known this. How could I have missed this?
UPDATE: Welcome SC&A and MaxedOutMama readers. Glad to have you visiting.
I hope I cleared that up for all of you who may have been confused about this.
And here, yet another story about another school - this time in San Francisco. A 14-year-old girl, apparently distraught, reports to the principal that she has just been sexually assaulted, but does the school call the police? Of COURSE not. Why would the school do THAT? Don't be silly. They called her parents, and then told her to get on the bus and go home. But, instead, this remarkable girl actually WALKED herself to the nearby police station to make the report the school refused to. Has the world just gone friggin NUTS!?
I was just talking to the daughter about these incidents, and also relaying to her some of the interesting stories that have been on SC&A lately. I asked her if it was as common as is being portrayed..kids giving kids blowjobs in the bathrooms, etc. She graduated two years ago, but she said even then it was happening all the time. And, it was partly for that very reason that during her senior year the school instituted a policy requiring bathrooms be kept locked during classes and only unlocked during class changes...with a teacher posted outside OR INSIDE each bathroom. I had never known this. How could I have missed this?
UPDATE: Welcome SC&A and MaxedOutMama readers. Glad to have you visiting.
We Have a Pope!
So, after struggling through a horrible case of Springtime fever-chills-headache-and-general-ickiness while trying to patch up the chair, the new PC, and my relationship with my daughter, I'm hoping I'll be able to catch up on blogging - and the reading of blogs and news that I've missed for the last several days.
We have a pope! Yes - I KNOW it's rather late in the game to be making this announcement, but I just wanted to say "We have a pope!" on my blog because I didn't when it happened.
So there. I feel better.
We have a pope! Yes - I KNOW it's rather late in the game to be making this announcement, but I just wanted to say "We have a pope!" on my blog because I didn't when it happened.
So there. I feel better.
4.19.2005
Hurtful Words
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Earlier today, or I guess it would be yesterday now, I lost my temper and gave in to the urge to blurt some rather hurtful, biting comments to someone I love. Immediately regretted it, of course, but the damage was done and, as we all know, there is no way to unsay words once they are spoken.
My daughter was the unfortunate recipient of my totally unwarranted screed and she didn't deserve such an onslaught of unhelpful blather from me. Like I mentioned a while back, she's approaching the wise old age of 20, but today I treated her like she was 16. To her credit, and my shame, she responded to my verbal attack like the poised, well-grounded, sensible young woman that she is. But, she was hurt, deeply, none the less.
Obviously, this is not the first time in her life I've lost my temper and said things for which I had to apologise later - only the most recent. And it's weighing heavy on me tonight. Apologies have been offered and tentatively accepted, but the air between us tonight as she headed off to sleep was still thick with her hurt feelings and sense of betrayal.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Nothing else to say.
Earlier today, or I guess it would be yesterday now, I lost my temper and gave in to the urge to blurt some rather hurtful, biting comments to someone I love. Immediately regretted it, of course, but the damage was done and, as we all know, there is no way to unsay words once they are spoken.
My daughter was the unfortunate recipient of my totally unwarranted screed and she didn't deserve such an onslaught of unhelpful blather from me. Like I mentioned a while back, she's approaching the wise old age of 20, but today I treated her like she was 16. To her credit, and my shame, she responded to my verbal attack like the poised, well-grounded, sensible young woman that she is. But, she was hurt, deeply, none the less.
Obviously, this is not the first time in her life I've lost my temper and said things for which I had to apologise later - only the most recent. And it's weighing heavy on me tonight. Apologies have been offered and tentatively accepted, but the air between us tonight as she headed off to sleep was still thick with her hurt feelings and sense of betrayal.
Damn. Damn. Damn.
Nothing else to say.
4.17.2005
The Chair From Hell
Know what I've been doing? Of course not - so I'll tell you.
The chair. Am working on the damn chair.
And setting up my new PC that arrived Friday - or was it Thursday? The days are running together now - after no sleep, too much caffiene, and God only knows how many cigarettes. I won't be posting until after the completed chair is delivered (it is looking quite beatiful, if I DO say so myself. And I do say so. But, it's still a pain in the hind end) and the new PC starts being cooperative.
The chair. Am working on the damn chair.
And setting up my new PC that arrived Friday - or was it Thursday? The days are running together now - after no sleep, too much caffiene, and God only knows how many cigarettes. I won't be posting until after the completed chair is delivered (it is looking quite beatiful, if I DO say so myself. And I do say so. But, it's still a pain in the hind end) and the new PC starts being cooperative.
4.14.2005
A Little Safer This Week than Last
Yep - we are. For real, according to THIS from Newsday.com.
Wow. 10,000 bad guys nabbed in one week. Now - If they could only do something like this, say, about once a month.
Hats off to our US Marshalls Service for coordinating this whole operation, and to all the other 24 or 25 law enforcement agencies that helped out. You guys rock!
Wow. 10,000 bad guys nabbed in one week. Now - If they could only do something like this, say, about once a month.
Hats off to our US Marshalls Service for coordinating this whole operation, and to all the other 24 or 25 law enforcement agencies that helped out. You guys rock!
What Else Can We Expect?
I came across this story at Maxed Out Mama's place. She points to the discussion at the Democratic Underground, and SC&A have also picked it up.
Basically, a disabled girl known to have speech problems and who is developmentally delayed was sexually assaulted by a group of boys in her high school auditorium in Columbus, Ohio. One of the kids videotaped what happened, and lots of people not only watched but also were shown the video. When this dispicable act came to the attention of school administrators, a hush-hush cover-up was tried, so as not to draw negative attention to the school.
Have we gone totally insane? Mark my words, soon we'll have folks trying to figure out the "root cause" - what could "make" these kids do what they did? I imagine we will begin to hear about the boys' deep-seated anger brought on by their circumstances - was it poverty? was it being victims themselves of bullying behavior?
Call me simplistic and narrow minded, but I absolutely do not understand how anyone can be confused about how such an awful, evil thing could happen. Of COURSE things like this will happen when a society becomes afraid to point to certain behaviors and say, unequivocally, "what you are doing is WRONG!" and, "That is BAD!" for fear of hurting someone's self-esteem or of being seen as "judgemental" and "intolerant."
Of COURSE it's going to happen when mothers and fathers abdicate their authority by choosing to be pals rather than parents. Of COURSE it's going to happen when those same parents refuse to teach their kids, by word, example, reward and punishment, that there are truly such things as GOOD and RIGHT and such things as BAD and WRONG. When parents say they don't want to "impose" their own values and morality on their kids, and say instead that they want their children to be free to develop their own understanding of morality, how can we expect anything other than exactly what we are seeing?
And, for the love of God, can anyone tell me - at what point did we forget how to raise children?
Basically, a disabled girl known to have speech problems and who is developmentally delayed was sexually assaulted by a group of boys in her high school auditorium in Columbus, Ohio. One of the kids videotaped what happened, and lots of people not only watched but also were shown the video. When this dispicable act came to the attention of school administrators, a hush-hush cover-up was tried, so as not to draw negative attention to the school.
Have we gone totally insane? Mark my words, soon we'll have folks trying to figure out the "root cause" - what could "make" these kids do what they did? I imagine we will begin to hear about the boys' deep-seated anger brought on by their circumstances - was it poverty? was it being victims themselves of bullying behavior?
Call me simplistic and narrow minded, but I absolutely do not understand how anyone can be confused about how such an awful, evil thing could happen. Of COURSE things like this will happen when a society becomes afraid to point to certain behaviors and say, unequivocally, "what you are doing is WRONG!" and, "That is BAD!" for fear of hurting someone's self-esteem or of being seen as "judgemental" and "intolerant."
Of COURSE it's going to happen when mothers and fathers abdicate their authority by choosing to be pals rather than parents. Of COURSE it's going to happen when those same parents refuse to teach their kids, by word, example, reward and punishment, that there are truly such things as GOOD and RIGHT and such things as BAD and WRONG. When parents say they don't want to "impose" their own values and morality on their kids, and say instead that they want their children to be free to develop their own understanding of morality, how can we expect anything other than exactly what we are seeing?
And, for the love of God, can anyone tell me - at what point did we forget how to raise children?
4.13.2005
Day Off Blathering
It was lovely having a day off in the middle of the week. I stayed up way late last night, downloading all sorts of new tools and gadgets to try on my PC - some of which are purported to help me blog, and others I just wanted because they seemed pretty interesting. And, oh yeah - and I bought a new (refurbished) PC from Dell. I won't tell you what model, because then you might feel compelled to tell me I probably got hosed in the deal. But, whatever - it's definitely better than this decrepit old thing I'm using right now. The daughter is going to get this one when the new one arrives, and the husband and I are going to get to fight over the new one. Or, we'll get to do that once it has a monitor to go with it, anyway.
So, I stayed up late doing all sorts of geeky stuff and then, because I had the day off, I slept in really late. When I finally got up, I puttered around, not doing much of anything. And, because I really don't know what to do with myself when I'm not at work (even though there are piles of laundry to fold and put away, and litter boxes to clean, and dishes to wash, and a quarter-of-the-way crocheted afghan I'll be working on till I'm 90), I spent a little bit of time checking voice mail from work, making a couple of calls, and checking and replying to my work e-mail. And, then, around about ohhh, 2:00 this afternoon, I finally got around to doing some work on a chair I'm reupholstering for a friend from work. A chair that was supposed to finished and delivered TODAY!
I suck. I've had this chair in my house for, I swear, 8 months. Now - in all fairness to Me, my friend didn't get the new fabric to me until after I'd had the chair in my house for almost 2 months. And then, the custom foam that I ordered for it was messed up and had to be re-ordered. But still - this chair is not the size of a house and it should have, and could have, been finished 5 months ago. I think I might have mentioned something in an earlier post about my weeeee little problem with procrastination. But, I don't feel like linking to it right now. Maybe later.
Anyway, I ran into my friend last week and told him his chair was nearly finished and that I would bring it to him today. I had every intention of getting it finished. Really I did. But, then the weekend was soooo busy. And then Monday happened. And Tuesday, too. And instead of finishing up the work on the chair, I played geek on the computer, slept in, and puttered. I still haven't called the guy whose chair is now being held hostage in my home. I might not be able to call him "friend" much longer. He's going to think I destroyed his chair and am, even now, frantically searching for a replica.
But, I have managed to buy myself some time. Because he won't be back in the office until Monday. Which, of course, is why I'm sitting here blogging. Instead of working on the frigging chair. Did I mention I have a problem with procrastination?
So, I stayed up late doing all sorts of geeky stuff and then, because I had the day off, I slept in really late. When I finally got up, I puttered around, not doing much of anything. And, because I really don't know what to do with myself when I'm not at work (even though there are piles of laundry to fold and put away, and litter boxes to clean, and dishes to wash, and a quarter-of-the-way crocheted afghan I'll be working on till I'm 90), I spent a little bit of time checking voice mail from work, making a couple of calls, and checking and replying to my work e-mail. And, then, around about ohhh, 2:00 this afternoon, I finally got around to doing some work on a chair I'm reupholstering for a friend from work. A chair that was supposed to finished and delivered TODAY!
I suck. I've had this chair in my house for, I swear, 8 months. Now - in all fairness to Me, my friend didn't get the new fabric to me until after I'd had the chair in my house for almost 2 months. And then, the custom foam that I ordered for it was messed up and had to be re-ordered. But still - this chair is not the size of a house and it should have, and could have, been finished 5 months ago. I think I might have mentioned something in an earlier post about my weeeee little problem with procrastination. But, I don't feel like linking to it right now. Maybe later.
Anyway, I ran into my friend last week and told him his chair was nearly finished and that I would bring it to him today. I had every intention of getting it finished. Really I did. But, then the weekend was soooo busy. And then Monday happened. And Tuesday, too. And instead of finishing up the work on the chair, I played geek on the computer, slept in, and puttered. I still haven't called the guy whose chair is now being held hostage in my home. I might not be able to call him "friend" much longer. He's going to think I destroyed his chair and am, even now, frantically searching for a replica.
But, I have managed to buy myself some time. Because he won't be back in the office until Monday. Which, of course, is why I'm sitting here blogging. Instead of working on the frigging chair. Did I mention I have a problem with procrastination?
4.12.2005
The Truth About....
Okay, I lied. I'm not heading off to bed just yet. I'm glad I decided to hang out a little bit because I just happened to wander over to the Blue-Eyed Infidel and came across her lively and hilarious comparison of the relative value of cats vs. dogs. Just the beginning here:
Now go. Scram. And let me get some sleep.
Okay. NOW I'm going to bed. For real. Really. I swear.
So let me get this straight: you let a furry animal take a shit in a box of sand, bury it with his paws, and then hop up onto furntiture, even your own bed, to lick the spare poo off of his butt? That is foul.Oh - but you have to go read it all, because whether you are a cat person like me (Rachel - you prolly ought not read this....I have 5 of them) or a hard-core cat-hating dog-person, you are bound to get at least one belly laugh from the read. Probably more than that.
I used to have cats. Loved them. But I never really thought about what was going on re: their shit. How it might stick to their paws in the box and then be deposited on my pillow later.
Now go. Scram. And let me get some sleep.
Okay. NOW I'm going to bed. For real. Really. I swear.
Ignorant Bliss and Little Guy
It’s late. The family is all tucked in and I finally have a few minutes to catch up on what’s going on in the world after my whirlwind of a weekend…and yet I can’t bring myself to do that just now. I don’t know about you, but sometimes I feel a need to enjoy a tiny little pocket of time in which to be blissfully ignorant. I haven’t read a newspaper or watched television since Friday night. What little radio I’ve listened to has dealt mostly with garden planting tips and weather forecasts.
The husband and I went to our nephew’s baptism this weekend, and though it was a quick road-trip there – arriving just in time for the service - with very little time for visiting after the baptism before we had to head back home, I’m still reveling in the afterglow of spending even a little bit of time with our extended family. It’s actually my husband’s family, but since both my parents have passed away, my in-laws are now the only parents I have - and my siblings-in-law are as dear to me as my own sister is.
The baptism was lovely and everyone in the congregation joined in welcoming the little guy into the family of Christ. Little Guy seemed fascinated by all the goings on and took the entire strange proceeding in stride. Although, at the end, he did toss a questioning look at the priest as if to say, “Hey, whadja go and do THAT for?”
Little Guy is 8 months old and just as cute and sweet as they come. He came into the family when he was two weeks old through the amazing and wonderful blessing of adoption, and he couldn’t be more loved, wanted, cherished, and adored. Everyone in the entire family has photos of him on their cell phones, PCs, refrigerator doors, stuck on their car visors, and tucked lovingly in wallets. Even now, the thought that this baby’s biological mom seriously considered abortion sends shivers through me. We might NOT have had the opportunity to love him and watch him grow. He might never have lived…and it came pretty close to that. I just can’t even bear thinking about it. It’s too terrifying. And besides that, it DIDN’T happen, she DIDN’T do it, and he IS here now. And he is so loved. The adoption is not totally final and won’t be for another few months. I can only imagine the celebration that will take place that day.
And now, I will continue on my way to bed, still safely, blissfully ignorant of all the pressing problems of the world. I know they will, unfortunately, all still be here tomorrow. Plenty of time to catch up.
The husband and I went to our nephew’s baptism this weekend, and though it was a quick road-trip there – arriving just in time for the service - with very little time for visiting after the baptism before we had to head back home, I’m still reveling in the afterglow of spending even a little bit of time with our extended family. It’s actually my husband’s family, but since both my parents have passed away, my in-laws are now the only parents I have - and my siblings-in-law are as dear to me as my own sister is.
The baptism was lovely and everyone in the congregation joined in welcoming the little guy into the family of Christ. Little Guy seemed fascinated by all the goings on and took the entire strange proceeding in stride. Although, at the end, he did toss a questioning look at the priest as if to say, “Hey, whadja go and do THAT for?”
Little Guy is 8 months old and just as cute and sweet as they come. He came into the family when he was two weeks old through the amazing and wonderful blessing of adoption, and he couldn’t be more loved, wanted, cherished, and adored. Everyone in the entire family has photos of him on their cell phones, PCs, refrigerator doors, stuck on their car visors, and tucked lovingly in wallets. Even now, the thought that this baby’s biological mom seriously considered abortion sends shivers through me. We might NOT have had the opportunity to love him and watch him grow. He might never have lived…and it came pretty close to that. I just can’t even bear thinking about it. It’s too terrifying. And besides that, it DIDN’T happen, she DIDN’T do it, and he IS here now. And he is so loved. The adoption is not totally final and won’t be for another few months. I can only imagine the celebration that will take place that day.
And now, I will continue on my way to bed, still safely, blissfully ignorant of all the pressing problems of the world. I know they will, unfortunately, all still be here tomorrow. Plenty of time to catch up.
4.09.2005
Grousing, Griping, Grumbling, Begging Blather
Alright, I am over-the-edge frustrated and am going to grouse and grumble and beg for advice. Blogging advice.
HOW do you folks do it? BLOG constantly, I mean? It freaking takes me forever to write a *&^%&$# post, and then, very often Blogger craps out and won’t let me publish what I just spent twenty minutes - or two hours - writing. Usually, I just sign off and shut the damn browser in a fit of rage. I guess I should point out that I live right smack dab in the middle of the place they named “Nowhere” after. The original NOWHERE. Yup. That’s where I am. There is no DSL or cable, and no plans to make either available in this area anytime soon, so we're stuck with a mind-numbingly slow dial-up connection. (Without the satellite dish, we’d only get one television channel – and that, only on a “good” day when the signals can bounce along the bottom of a solid mass of cloud cover.) Dumb DSL-less county.
I installed a reader. Big whoop. I’ve got tons of news feeds now, but can’t figure out how to get the feeds for my favorite bloggers. It would probably save considerable time, but there are no helpful hints for how to do that. Dumb damn reader.
It would be lovely to blog from work, but - color me paranoid if you will - I think it might be against some sort of silly policy and could actually be frowned upon. Unfortunately, blogging while at work would also mean staying at the office even longer because I have actual, you know…work…to do there. It would also mean divorcing the husband, saying goodbye to the daughter, moving a cot to the office and adopting a daily diet of microwave popcorn and Chinese take-out.
Dumb office. Good computer, though.
Is there anyone, anywhere in the world, able to hold down a job (outside the home), spend time with family, AND have a successful blog? If so, please share….just how in the holy hell do you do it without spending 6 hours a day numbing your butt in front of the computer? And, if you are able to do it even while using a dial-up connection, I absolutely MUST know your secret, else, very soon now, I think I'll lose my little mind...and dump the computer in the kitty litter.
HOW do you folks do it? BLOG constantly, I mean? It freaking takes me forever to write a *&^%&$# post, and then, very often Blogger craps out and won’t let me publish what I just spent twenty minutes - or two hours - writing. Usually, I just sign off and shut the damn browser in a fit of rage. I guess I should point out that I live right smack dab in the middle of the place they named “Nowhere” after. The original NOWHERE. Yup. That’s where I am. There is no DSL or cable, and no plans to make either available in this area anytime soon, so we're stuck with a mind-numbingly slow dial-up connection. (Without the satellite dish, we’d only get one television channel – and that, only on a “good” day when the signals can bounce along the bottom of a solid mass of cloud cover.) Dumb DSL-less county.
I installed a reader. Big whoop. I’ve got tons of news feeds now, but can’t figure out how to get the feeds for my favorite bloggers. It would probably save considerable time, but there are no helpful hints for how to do that. Dumb damn reader.
It would be lovely to blog from work, but - color me paranoid if you will - I think it might be against some sort of silly policy and could actually be frowned upon. Unfortunately, blogging while at work would also mean staying at the office even longer because I have actual, you know…work…to do there. It would also mean divorcing the husband, saying goodbye to the daughter, moving a cot to the office and adopting a daily diet of microwave popcorn and Chinese take-out.
Dumb office. Good computer, though.
Is there anyone, anywhere in the world, able to hold down a job (outside the home), spend time with family, AND have a successful blog? If so, please share….just how in the holy hell do you do it without spending 6 hours a day numbing your butt in front of the computer? And, if you are able to do it even while using a dial-up connection, I absolutely MUST know your secret, else, very soon now, I think I'll lose my little mind...and dump the computer in the kitty litter.
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