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This is a discussion on Finally sold out, peace out KO, was fun while it lasted. within the Gordion forums, part of the Market Place category; bumpppppppppppppp...
Page: 15
I just got my gear back and you quit?
Wana come Ares ^^
id be embarrassed to put that on my sig lol, only shows how inactive and noobish is c-west (i know for a fact that those people are undergeared and unskilled spanish speakers)
ya who cares if they aren't that good, it was 2 vs all of them lol and was just funny. and beer i really don't wanna spend any cash on that damn game to regear on another server haha, waste of money XD
nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo, gel gel troll armour and quest items
Congrats on selling out dude. Finally out of this shitty game lol.
yea im wreckin ardy, gg shiz right there and cz gettin a lil active aswell
well i already gave away all my extra items XD so got no gbs or anything for olds and cheap weap haha


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Sunday, August 15, 2010
Easy Apricot Sorbet
I purchased 5 pounds of apricots for a terrific price. Very ripe apricots. And I needed a quick and easy recipe that didn't require heat. It's just too hot in Michigan right now and I don't need to compound that by turning on a stove. That meant making jam was out of the question.
What to do?
After searching the web I found an easy recipe for Apricot Sorbet.
Puree' the apricots in a blender. Place the mixture in a freezer safe container. Remove when frozen and garnish with sprigs of mint.
This is my kind of recipe. I'll let you know how it turns out.
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Madonna Confessions Tour (mobile-phone) pictures...
Seeing this girl in concert is always an intense experience. Her shows are a rollercoaster of sensory stimules, ideas, ideals, imaginaries, celebrations, raw sexuality, messages, images, sounds and thousands of screaming and adoring fans. And above all that there's her presence on stage, so full of a strong charisma as only an icon who's been around for almost 25 years can have. Yes, I was star-struck once again.
(pictures taken on the 3rd and 4th of September 2006 in Amsterdam Arena)
Sunday, September 10, 2006
2 comments:
- Laura said...
Your crazy guy ;))))
- 6:15 pm
- Random types said...
Who, me? ;)
- 6:44 pm
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Excuses for not buying a home, apart from not having enough money for the down payment, are dwindling.
Low mortgage rates attempted to make a clean getaway several times in the last few years, but, happily, they`ve been recaptured in this summer of 1989. Many experts believe rates will stay where they are or slip a bit in coming months. If you really need or want a home, however, it makes good sense to buy now rather than wait.


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Coastal Men's Golf Falls One Spot at Kiawah
Follow @CCU_CAF Follow @goccusports Follow @chaunceyccu
East Bay Deli Classic at Kiawah Results/Live Scoring
East Bay Deli Classic at Kiawah Results Through Rd 2
KIAWAH ISLAND - Coastal Carolina trimmed 19 strokes off its opening-round score but still slipped one spot to ninth with a score of 617 (318-299) after 36 holes of the East Bay Deli Classic at Kiawah, played at the par 72, 6,911yard Turtle Point Golf Course.
The event, and Coastal Carolina's fall portion of the schedule, will conclude with 18 final holes at Turtle Point on Tuesday.
Andrew Roy moved up one spot to 15th and teammate Morgan Deneen shot 15 spots up the leaderboard to 32nd as both carded a 73 Monday.
"The opportunity to score was much better today, but we did not take full advantage of it," said head coach Jim Garren. "We should have been one of the teams that shot under par today. Andrew put himself in contention, but let the situation get to him on the last hole. Morgan showed some toughness to post his 73 after a tough start."
Tennessee continues to lead the 15-team field as the #26 Volunteers have a two-day total of 584 (298-286). Chattanooga posted the low round of the day (3-under par) and moved up one spot to second with a 36-hole score of 594.
Roy posted seven birdies Monday to lead the Chanticleers. He was 1-over at the turn, having three birdies, two bogeys and a double. However, he caught fire on the back nine with birdies on holes 10, 12, 15 and 17. A triple bogey on the par-5, 18th hole dropped him from 3-under to his 1-over 73. He did move up one spot into a tie for 15th thanks to his 36-hole total of 150 (77-73).
Deneen is tied for 32nd, jumping 15 spots with his 73 Monday and two-day total of 155 (82-73). He was 4-over after the third two holes and was 4-over at the turn thanks to a birdie on the 7th hole and a bogey on the 8th. Like Roy, Deneen caught fire on his inward nine. He had an eagle on the par-5, 10th before dropping a shot in the 12th hole. He then finished his round with birdies on the 14th hole and the tough 18th hole.
Luis Ruiz is tied for 30th (78-76=154). He was 2-over on both of his 9's Monday, carding three birdies along the way. Jonathan Goth-Rasmussen and States Fort each turned in 77's Monday. Goth Rasmussen had four birdies and is tied for 55th (82-77=159). Fort had 11 pars and an eagle on the par-5, 10th for his 77 and is tied for 58th (83-77=160). Thadd Obecny II is tied for 63rd (81-80=161)/


text: Some traditional Moroccan instruments for sale in the Fez medina. Fez is one of the best preserved Old Cities in the Arab world. The sprawling medina is also the world's largest car-free urban zone. The massive medina, with its high walls and winding streets, cannot be navigated without a guide or you will surely get lost.


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tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-65804339096806479602018-03-02T09:33:00.907-07:00The Cunning HandI love food. I love words. A recipe for success.Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-1303753623871280372014-01-01T15:33:00.004-07:002014-01-01T15:37:10.987-07:00New Year's ResolutionNew Year's Resolution

One of my hopes for the New Year is to get more organized and have time to update this blog more often. On the other hand, I'd like to really focus my career on nourishing those who need it most. I think those may be at odds, but we'll see.

To work on the first resolution, I'll share the wonderful fun I had catering a party last night. Three friends had pitched in to win the party I offered at our church fund-raising auction.

Balancing their requests with my knowledge and healthful cooking style, I dove into cookbooks and Internet sites to come up with a menu.

For the table:
Guacamole
Spinach-Artichoke Dip (NOT a healthful choice despite the kale I added but sooo yummy)
Black Bean Salad (with blackeyed peas for New Year's luck, an old Southern tradition)
Mango Salsa
White Bean-Sundried Tomato Dip
Olive Tapenade
Stuffed Grape Leaves (after an epic failure at home, I opted for Costco's packaged version!).

Throughout the evening, I then prepared and served hot appetizers:
Mini-Quiche in Gluten-Free Crusts (bacon-caramelized onion and spinach-mushroom)
Polenta Crostini with Wild Mushrooms and Goat Cheese
Sausage Stuffed Mushrooms (with gluten-free crumbs and kale)
Walnut and Sun-Dried Tomato-Stuffed Mini-Peppers (a creation of Bauman classmate Lisa Patriacca)
Tiny Twice-Baked Potatoes with Smoked Salmon
Coconut Shrimp (with the above Mango Salsa)
Buffalo Turkey Sliders on Cauliflower Buns

The slider was a conglomeration of a recipe by Bauman classmate Andrea Foro and one I found on the web by Rachel Ray. The somewhat confusing name refers to the Buffalo style common to chicken wings, not the large nearly-extinct animal. It incorporates the carrot and celery often served with wings and the spicy sauce, thus the dollop of blue cheese-sour cream on top.

The super-simple cauliflower bun is a great choice for gluten-free diets as well as those who just want to incorporate more vegetables. You just grate the cauliflower to a rice-like texture (easily done with a few pulses of the food processor), add an egg, 1/4 cup almond flour and 2 Tablespoons coconut flour and a teaspoon of a preferred herb (I used rosemary) with a dash of salt and pepper. Form into patties and bake 10-15 minutes on each side.

Unfortunately, I served those last, when everyone was already pretty full. Still, the first round barely got out of the kitchen.

All in all, it was a great experience. Almost like cooking for friends, but for a good cause. Not being the young bucks we once were, we toasted the New Year on New York time (though a few of us managed to see our own Mountain time clocks hit 12:00!) and shared our goals for 2014.With folks like that in my corner, I'm hopeful that my dreams will be realized in some fashion.

More on that later, if my resolution remains firm!

Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-34064027971008748032013-10-29T14:33:00.000-06:002013-10-29T14:34:22.255-06:00
Fall has fell

Like the Facebook friend who pondered "Who turned off the heat in Colorado?" I am huddled under a blanket staring at the gloomy, bone-chilling day. Except for the brilliant yellow leaves on the big ol' cottonwood in the backyard, you might think it was winter already.

I like fall. Growing up in Texas, it was my favorite season because it was such a relief after the droning heat of summer. Of course there it didn't usually show up until November.

Even in Colorado, though, the (admittedly too few) colors of autumn are a fresh new look after the dry brown that usually accompanies the end of summer. But this year was a little different. The flood threw a wrench into the works. The grass peeking out from the mantle of fallen leaves is actually green!

But the real reason I love fall is that it begins the season of bounty. Instead of cooling salads and refreshing beverages, we get to revel in the pleasures of pumpkin, eggnog, huge family feasts focused on food and, best of all, chocolate.

Yes, Halloween opens the season of sweets. From candy corn and pillowcases full of Snickers into the pies of Thanksgiving, candy canes and Christmas cookies, then heart-shaped boxes of goodness for Valentine's Day and baskets of sugary treats at Easter. My family has four birthdays in the spring so the indulgence lasts for a good six months.

How to enjoy this flavor fiesta without packing on the pounds? My strategy this year will be to eat more healthfully at mealtime, packing as many good things in as possible. Cooler weather also encourages cooking, at least for me. Warming soups and stews just seem to fit with sweaters and mittens. It doesn't seem to be a crime to let the oven roast away for a hour or two when the heat is already on.

For the past few days, I've been enjoying the fruits of a long-simmered dish I prepared for the church's annual Sages Luncheon, celebrating the folks who have reached their 80th birthdays and beyond. The Arroz con Pollo (Rice with Chicken) was a big hit, but I overestimated the amount of food needed. So, leftovers!

The heartiness of the dish has warmed me for several days and I've thought about ways to incorporate even more flavor. I could have easily added some greens to boost the nutrition without seriously affecting flavor. As it was, the colorful peppers practically melted into the rice after the third reheating. Zucchini might have been nice but certainly would have blended in to the medley without adding a lot of color.

What are your thoughts? I'd love to hear some ideas, cuz I really like the dish and want to bump it up a bit.

The first step is cleverly hidden at the end of the recipe so read it all the way through!
Arroz con Pollo

1 whole chicken, cut in pieces
Marinade
1/4 cup olive oil
3 cloves garlic, rough chopped
1Tablespoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 Tablespoon dried Mexican oregano
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 Tablespoons lime juice
Sofrito
2 cloves garlic
1/4 cup onion in chunks
1/4 cup green pepper seeded and rough chopped
3 Tablespoons cilantro leaves
1/2 Tablespoon sea salt
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
Rice
2 Tablespoons ghee
1 medium onion, diced
 1 medium red or orange bell pepper, seeded and diced
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon oregano
2 cups diced tomatoes
4 cups chicken stock
1/4 teaspoon salt
Optional; 1 cup small Spanish olives
 2 cups long grain brown rice, soaked overnight and drained

For the marinade, combine all the ingredients in a large, non-reactive bowl. Add the chicken and turn to coat well. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at least 30 minutes, turning occasionally.

The sofrito is all those ingredients whirled in a blender or food processor until smooth.

For the rice, preheat oven to 375 degrees. Drain the marinated chicken pieces and lightly pat dry. In a Dutch oven or large frying pan, heat the ghee over medium-high heat. Add the chicken and brown at least 5 minutes per side. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Depending on the size of the pan, you may need to do this in batches.

Lower the heat to medium and add the onion, bell pepper, cumin and oregano to the pan. Here is where you could add more vegetables if desired. Saute until just tender, about 5 minutes. Stir in the sofrito and saute 2 minutes more. Add the tomatoes, stocl and sea salt and simmer 2 minutes. Stir in the drained rice and, if you choose, olives and bring it to a boil. Return the chicken to the pan and push into the rice. Cover with foil and a tight-fitting lid and bake for 45 minutes.
Source: Bauman College Natural Chef recipe book

Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-86432739285124290712013-07-23T15:49:00.002-06:002013-07-23T16:00:43.770-06:00Heavy sighWhew, final presentation done!

I never worried about tests and projects when I was in school back in the Dark Ages (i.e, 1960-80s). But I have been losing sleep for a week now rehearsing and rephrasing and reorganizing my discussion of what I finally titled "Taming the Chocolate Monster: How Sweets Fit into a Healthful Diet."

Of course, with a rainbow of fresh fruit (and vegetables!) and a big packet of raw cacao, how could I lose?

Well, I could've panicked when the Vita-Mix motor blew away my notecards listing the nutrition information I'd carefully prepared.

Or maybe when the end of my 45-minute presentation came somewhere around the 30-minute mark. That's the editor in me, always making it shorter, clearer, more concise.

But I'm pretty sure my fellow chef students and the instructors were too busy salivating over the Cuisinart full of Cherry-Choco Energy Bars.

The reality is that it doesn't take much time to make absolutely delish healthful stuff, and if you fill it full of good stuff, people won't want more.

So, since you couldn't be there to sample, here are the two recipes from the presentation:

Chocolate Super Smoothie

A variety of superfoods combine to create a tasty and healthful morning start or midday energizer. And no one will know there's spinach in it!

1 cup almond milk
½ cup (about 10) pitted cherries
½ cup blueberries
1 medium ripe banana
2 cups spinach
1 stalk celery
2 Tablespoons cacao
2 dates (to taste)

Combine all ingredients in blender and blend until smooth.

By Kathy Leftwich, adapted from incrediblesmoothies.com
Makes 1 large smoothie (2 servings)

Cost breakdown:
Almond milk from 1 cup (5.5 oz.) almonds @ $6/lb =$2.06
Cherries: ½ cup (2.75 oz.) @$4/lb (.25/oz) = $0.69
Blueberries: ½ cup (2 oz.) @ $3/dry pint (8 oz.) = $0.75
Banana: 5 oz @.69/lb (.04/oz) = $0.20
Celery: 1 stalk of about 8 per head @$0.88 = $0.11
Spinach: 2 oz of 8 oz. box @ $4 = $1
Cacao: 2 T (1 oz.) @$18/lb = $1.12
Total (2 servings)= 5.93 or $2.96 per serving

Cherry-Cocoa Energy Bars

Loaded with protein, fiber and healthy fats, these bars make a delicious and satisfying on-the-go treat.

1½ cups pitted, dried dates
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/3 cup whole chia seeds
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 cup almonds, toasted and chopped
1/2 cup walnuts, toasted and chopped
1/2 cup dried cherries

Purée dates in food processor until a thick paste forms. Add cocoa powder, chia seeds, cinnamon, cloves and extracts. Pulse until well combined. Add almonds, walnuts and dried cherries; pulse until well mixed.
Spread large sheet of wax paper on work surface. Transfer date mixture to wax paper, and press mixture into 1/2-inch-thick rectangle. Wrap tightly in wax paper, and chill until firm (note: I didn't do this for the presentation and the bars tasted more like brownies right out of the oven!). Cut into 8 bars.

By Kathy Leftwich adapted from dramaticpancake.com
Makes 8 bars

Cost breakdown:
Dates: 4 oz. @ $5/lb =$1.25
Cacao:1/3 cup @ $18/lb = $2.75
Chia: 1/3 cup (2 oz.) @$9.99/lb = $1.25
Cinnamon: ½ tsp. @$1.25/oz. = $0.10
Ground cloves: ¼ tsp @2.50/oz = $0.10
Vanilla: ½ tsp @ $2/oz. = $0.25
Almond extract: ¼ tsp.@ $2/oz. = $0.12
Almonds: ½ c (2.5oz.) @ $6/lb. = $1
Walnuts: ½ c. (2 oz.) @$9/lb = $1
Cherries: ½ c (2 oz.) @ $13/lb = $1.60
Total: $10.17 /8 servings =$1.27

Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-26613153350631084672013-05-12T11:25:00.000-06:002013-05-12T11:25:48.034-06:00How things happenWhat a week!

Our Bauman kitchen (housed in the beautiful downtown First Congregational Church) buzzed with excitement as we moved into the Animal Protein portion of the curriculum, but what we were learning was only tangentially related to the noteworthy events.

On Monday, after a lesson on fish, we celebrated two birthdays with an extracurricular dessert that blew me away: Sublime Pie, made without sugar, dairy or wheat!

Let me add here that this program has consistently amazed me with the flavors of foods I thought I didn't like, From an early kale dish to a cilantro-based salad dressing to seaweed, I have opened my mouth and mind in so many ways. This pie was just the latest taste-bud-expanding experiences. Here is the ultra-simple recipe our lead teacher, Chef Matt Morrow, adapted from (as he put it) some Australian guy's cookbook on raw food:

Photo by birthday girl Brandi MacKenzie www.BeBeingBecome.com

Sublime Pie

Crust:

3/4 cup macadamia nuts
3/4 cup pecans
3/4 cup dates, pitted and quartered
1 vanilla bean pod, ground
1 tsp. salt

Grind all ingredients together in a food processor, then press into a springform pan. (This super-simple crust could be used in any dessert application.)

Filling:

5 to 6 ripe avocados (yes, I meant avocados)
1 to 1.5 cups dessicated coconut
3/4 cup fresh lime juice
1/2 to 3/4 cup agave nectar or pure maple syrup

Mix all ingredients together in the food processor, tasting for flavor balance. Pour into the prepared crust and freeze for several hours.

~~~~~
Two days later, after a flight of fancy with chicken, we encountered the irresistible opportunity to hear foodie hero Michael Pollan (The Omnivore's Dilemma, Food Rules, etc.), who was promoting his new book, Cooked, at the Boulder Bookstore just a few steps away. The question of whether to interrupt our class schedule to hear him was really no dilemma.

The choice became even easier when the local bookstore provided free tickets to the event, which popularity prompted to move to... yes, indeed, the First Congregational Church, just upstairs from our kitchen. We had suggested that we cook him lunch, but the handlers thought there would not be enough time, so we continued with class -- it was lamb day -- and adjusted the schedule to fit the lesson and get the stews cooking before heading upstairs for the lecture.

Pollan is, quite simply, who I wish I could be. He investigates a subject thoroughly, no, exhaustively, visiting places and people that know about the subject and generally immersing himself in all there is to know about it. Then he writes approachable, readable, engaging prose that conveys all that he learned.

And he seems to be a genuinely nice guy. We learned this when he came downstairs to visit with us in the kitchen. Having been told his schedule was tight, we hurriedly prepared a "to-go" container of our lamb stews that had been simmering. No, he wanted to sit and enjoy his meal (a habit that seems to be fading into history). While the class confronted The Lamb Chop (and seven people on a siz-burner stove), Pollan chatted with staff and enjoyed our stews before popping into the kitchen for a photo op. (Sorry you had to run off, Michael, the lamb chops were delish.

Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-19052965008028242542013-05-05T16:23:00.000-06:002013-05-05T17:00:33.913-06:00Moving On UpMoving On Up I've been idle on this forum for the past four years and am now moving in a new direction, both professionally and bloggingly. Quite honestly, I felt that sending my random thoughts into the blogosphere for various friends, relatives and spammers to enjoy was at best irrelevant and somewhat like masturbation, pleasuring only oneself. Now that I have decided what I want to be when I grow up, I see more purpose in sharing my "wisdom" with the world. I cannot take full credit for this inspiration. Dave Carson, a noted Boulder architect and member of my beloved Community UCC, suggested that I share the process of going back to school to learn a new trade. That still seemed like the above-mentioned self-pleasure, but many others have asked how I am enjoying the classes. My standard reply is that, even after nearly 40 years of playing in the kitchen, I did not know how much I didn't know about food. And so, after having people clamor for the recipes of two things I made for said church, I decided to revive my dormant blog and share some of my journey of becoming a Natural Chef through Baumann College. The program is focused on nutrition and eating well, that is, the way nature intended us to eat. The basis is SOUL food: Seasonal, Organic, Unrefined, Local. (I got 1 point off my homework on that question because I said the S was for Sustainable, which I think it also needs to be.) The program is about 5 months of thrice-weekly classes, and we are about six weeks into it, having learned some foundations like knife skills, sanitation measures and tons of other useful stuff. What has impressed me so far is how little we know about what we put into our bodies. In the name of efficiency and good ol' American capitalism, food has strayed far from being something to nourish and truly feed us. So often now, we look for the fastest way to get something into our mouths/stomachs, not paying much attention to where it came from and how it got here. The processes and additives turn what we think is good food in something akin to poison. The best example is a yummy, seemingly healthful protein bar I used to enjoy. The second ingredient is something called soy isolates, which I recently learned in class is created by a process so lethal that the factory workers are allowed to spend only a few hours in its presence, and then in full hazmat-type garb. And this is from a company called Nature Valley! I could (and probably will at some point) fill these columns with the horrors the food industry is literally shoving down our throats, but the good news is that it is not so hard to go back to our roots (really!) and make food that does nourish, not poison. Here are two examples from class: Olive Tapenade 1 cup mixed olives 1/2 Tablespoon capers 1 garlic clove, crushed 1 Tablespoons parsley 2 Tablespoons olive oil Put everything except olive oil in a food processor or blender. Pulse it a few time until everything is finely chopped. Add the oil and whir it around a bit. Serve with whole-grain crackers or veggie slices. You can doctor it up to fit your tastes and what's in the pantry. In my last batch, I also used some olives and artichoke hearts from the grocery olive bar, sun-dried tomato pieces and a splash of balsamic vinegar. It disappeared in a flash! Even faster on the hoovered scale was the trail mix balls I adapted from the school's Vital Snack Bar recipe. I think I used too many nuts so they just would not become bars, so I rolled them up and pressed in the nuts that fell out. Feel free to play around with these ingredients, using different nuts, seeds, spices, or dried fruit. The original called for Maca powder, which I couldn't find; protein powder, which I don't usually care for; and coconut, which some don't like. 1 cup lightly toasted nuts 1/2 cup medjool dates, quartered 1/4 cup dried cherries 1/4 cup dried figs 2 Tablespoons cocoa or carob powder 1/2 tsp cinnamon 1/4 tsp. ground cloves 1 Tablespoon orange zest Water as needed In a food processor, grind nuts to finely chopped. Set aside in a separate bowl. Put dates, cherries and figs into food processor with the cocoa/carob powder, spices and zest. Pulse to blend into a thick paste, adding tablespoons of water as needed to make it come together. Add nuts back in and process until it forms a ball. Press mixture into a 9x13 pan (use a smaller pan if a thicker bar if desired). Allow to chill for about an hour, then cut into bars. I am excited to share my love of food and talent for writing with my friends and random folks who happen upon this. I'd love to hear your comments!Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-85211059770746878262009-04-22T22:42:00.005-06:002012-01-12T14:56:45.151-07:00The mother of all illnessIf there is anything worse than being sick, it is being a mother and being sick.

You see, moms do not get sick days. Kids still need to be fed, watered and refereed no matter how much you want to stay in bed. Which is a real dirty trick, because who do you think makes most moms sick?

I thought the worst moment was when my 7-year-old-- in the last gasps of this horrible, energy-sucking bug -- called out to me -- in the beginning throes of "who ran over me with a truck?" -- to ask for a foot massage. Yeah, kid, I'll get right on that.

But no, there was worse, much worse to come. The day we sent said 7-year-old back to school, I get a call mid-morning from the other child's school: "Mom, I really don't feel so good." Somehow, suggesting he bike home didn't seem very nice. The question for the ages: Who picks up your sick kid when you too are sick? And would the middle school staff care if I showed up in my jammies?

Those little varmints, though, are young and resilient. So, when the kids insisted (at 7 am) that they were well enough to hunt for the springtime cache of sugar, I played along then burrowed back into my comfy den of covers.

The worst, though, is the perky folks who call in the middle of the day, expecting you to be just as perky. Conversations generally go like this:
"Croak," I say into the phone.
"Oh. did I wake you?"
"No, there was just a strange ringing in my ear." Then coughing that should produce at least part of a lung.
"OK, I won't bother you." As if you didn't already.

So, although I suspect this is actually a sinister plot between my waistline and my wallet to keep me from gorging on post-Easter chocolate bargains, I am doing my best to get through this. In addition to the home Easter ritual, I've managed to conduct a neighborhood Easter egg hunt, celebrate two birthdays (including homemade dinner and cakes) and weather a daylong church retreat, mostly without a voice. I will not let this thing get the better of me. Give me some telemarketers to torture and some of our pharmaceutical industry's best efforts and I'll be up by noon in no time.

I have to, my birthday is next.

Epilogue: It can get worse and it did. Being sick on one's birthday is totally not fun.

Bullying this swine of a flu bug gave me enough energy to make a semblance of a celebration. One of our favorite restaurants shares its founding with my birthday so I felt an obligation to partake of the $19.94 lobster special, and my sweet, caring and extremely patient husband produced my favorite cake.

It's just not the same with a cough syrup chaser.Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-19870853972564473302008-09-20T19:30:00.003-06:002008-09-20T19:56:47.468-06:00The Beguiling World of BlogsFor a medium that I didn't know existed a year ago, the blog seems to be occupying a lot of my attention lately. Not my own, as you'll notice from the weeks between my posts.

Everyone these days seems to have something to say in a blog. If I read all the ones I'm asked to, I'd never get anything done. Many of my colleagues in Boulder Media Women regularly post very interesting insights and information on blogs but I'm a bit afraid. How much more can my brain hold? How will dinner get made?

But I really should not expect anyone to read my blog if I don't read theirs, right? So I occasionally dip my toe into the blogosphere to see what others have to say. The latest was by no means a colleague, though, and I'd be floored if she ever read my blog, but I admire this writer and I was curious about the topic, so Anne Lamott's latest post on Salon.com drrew me in. And my worst fears were realized.

First of all, I could very easily spend 18 hours a day reading the musings of such talented and insightful women. My kids would go hungry (once the Tostitos ran out) and the laundry would pile to the ceiling (in the unlikely event they remembered to change clothes).

Secondly, I want to write like this woman, so I really should read everything she writes.

The third, and most profound, finding was that the blogosphere has truly made some strange bedfellows. At some place on most web pages are ads that attempt to tie in with the topic of the page. At the bottom of Anne Lamott's Salon.com post on the Republican vice-presidential candidate were links to electric candles, a psychotherpist in Fort Collins and a system "guaranteed to improve my income."

As Dr. Phil likes to say, "What were they thinking?!"

Now, to some extent, I can control what appears on my page with the tags I give my post, so in addition to the real topic of this post, I'm going to do a test and see what shows up if I put something totally outrageous. So make sure you look at the bottom of the page for the Google ads. This should be fun!Kathy Leftwichhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-70220269815165433192008-08-26T22:45:00.003-06:002008-09-03T13:51:46.553-06:00A Matter of ConventionThe only game in town last week was the amassing of Democrats in Denver, so missing the opportunity to comment on it was just, well, unfathomable.

Unfortunately, I must plead exhaustion. The effort of getting two kids ready for school, arrangements made for after-school pickup and dog-sitting is usually enough to occupy my day but add in getting to the bus and the Pepsi Center by 10 am to ensure entrance, then working at a fairly regular pace for 8 hours before heading home to get everyone ready for the next day.

Nonetheless, I did it, not wanting to miss the chance to be a part of this history-making event. I just didn't get around to writing about it for a while.

My DNC experience began a few weeks ago when I was notified that my skills would be of use in the public affairs division (and here I thought politicos tried to keep their affairs private). The next email informed me that I was to be part of the Talking Points crew, so I conjured visions of grandeur as one of the people to decide what conventioneers would be talking about.

That little bubble burst on Saturday, the pre-convention volunteer orientation day. The reality was that I would be stuffing envelopes with DNC-provided "talking points" and likely delivering same to delegates. Oh well, at least I'd get to be a part of the action. And we were promised that entry to the highly coveted Obama acceptance speech would be allowed for any who desired it.

Even the promise of such a coup (shared by 75,000 of our closest friends) began to lose its sparkle Sunday afternoon when the reality of the whole DNC situation came crashing down amid protesters, long and unshaded lines of people and many, many riot-gear-clad police. In short, lots of people wanted to get in to the Pepsi Center and the security detail wanted to be veeerrryyy careful about who those people were and what they brought in with them.

Amid this chaos, though, occurred a truly remarkable event. As I stood with a colleague in the noonday sun awaiting our chance to pass through the magical portal to political paradise, I noticed a man wearing a shirt proclaiming his press affiliation, Cox Newspapers. We weren't doing a lot else, so I asked him which of the Cox Newspapers he worked for. He replied Dayton and asked if I, too, worked for Cox. I noted that I once had, many moons ago. At that point, he extended his hand and introduced himself as Jeff Bruce, once my boss in Austin, Texas. For the rest of the day, my brain trilled out the Disney song, "It's a Small World."

Close encounters of personally and world famous people were sparse after that in part because I moved to another assignment, vaguely known as Press Distribution. It entailed transcribing the many, many speeches of the convention from the Teleprompter (i.e. type large enough to be read across the room) to single-page reproductions of what the speakers planned to say. Verbatim. Even if it wasn't all that accurate. Or grammatical. I had to restrain the editor in me from making Al Gore just a little more comprehensible.

But I was able to see some bits and pieces of the convention, much of it on the monitor in our work area. And The Big Speech, of course. As promised, we were awarded entrance to the Invesco event, complete with our own American flags and Change placards to wave at appropriate moments. Even the trudge through some very questionable parts of Denver was worth the effort. There were, after all, more than enough police -- we would be safe.

In fact, that would be my only complaint: There were too many uniformed personnel making a little bit too much of a show of force. It was quite surreal to walk across Speer Blvd. in the middle of the morning rush hour without even glancing at the traffic light because the intersection was barricaded. Being "wanded" while walking over Cherry Creek seemed extreme, and the corps of officers marching down 16th Street one afternoon looked a little too much like my idea of Germany's SS. In all, though, it seemed to me that Denver did an admirable job.Kathy Leftwichhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-3817089887546743032008-07-24T23:34:00.002-06:002008-07-25T00:01:27.968-06:00My Special PowerFor many years, I have had the sense of being a bit different, maybe even special.
Not just the uncanny ability to find the one misspelled word in any printed piece, but something more. A trip to the local gargantuan-goods store helped me put my finger on it. Yes, the simple purchase of a garden hose helped me to see what it is that sets me apart.
Actually, I began to get suspicious earlier in the year with the purchase of yet another outdoor utensil, a power snow shovel. That was in March, reportedly Colorado's snowiest month, yet subsequent to the purchase of the shovel (at a bargain 75 percent off), it did not snow enough to even merit opening the box.
Similarly, the purchase of the garden hose to perk up my withering landscaping resulted in the first measurable rain in our neighborhood in at least a month.
Conversely, all I have to do is carry an umbrella to ensure no one in my party will get wet. Leave it at home and it will pour buckets.
It's truly a special power. Now, all I have to do is figure out how to harness this for the greater good. I am hesitant, for example, to work in the campaign of my preferred candidates for fear it will jinx them.
I'm thinking perhaps I'll start with my kids. If I do not even buy broccoli, will they suddenly decide they must have it? Or maybe it won't work in the reverse. I have to do something that turns out to be wasteful or useless. Well, that describes most of what I do with my kids, in their view at least.
Maybe I could join the armed forces just so the war will end? Unfortunately, I don't think there's much call for out-of-shape, middle-aged women in today's Army.
For now, I'll stick to ferreting out misplaced apostrophes and improper uses of "which". Heaven knows, everyone finds that pretty useless.Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-65572377311801409662008-04-18T22:39:00.003-06:002008-04-21T22:54:13.448-06:00Five-O Without HawaiiFor starters, only those in my age group will understand the title of this blog. Back in the old days, BC being before cable, one of the many police/private investigator TV shows featured the Aloha State and the underside of paradise.

My title, however, refers to the impending arrival of a particular birthday. I have mixed feelings about it but the primary one is disbelief.

Where did the time go? For example, standing on the school playground with the other first-grade parents, I felt totally out of touch with the mom who was expecting a new baby.

As I celebrated the 12th birthday of one son and arranged the party for the other, I knew it was not envy for this woman's situation. More like bemusement.

How did I get here? It seems like just yesterday I was a blushing bride embarking on a great career in journalism. The blush is now a hot flash and the journalism career is this blog.

But there have been three kids, several "permanent" residences and numerous journalistically related jobs in that time, so I suppose it is not so amazing that I have gotten to this point.

What I have noticed (aside from the creaky knees and silver streaks amid the brunette) is some definite old-lady behaviors. Having dinner at 4:30 no longer seems like such a bad idea. Instead of marveling at the sporty convertible whizzing past my morning amble with the dog, I find myself wanting to yell "slow down."

And, of course, I am far from alone in this dilemma. Hordes of baby boomers relate the same disbelief. Thus, the hot phrase is that 50 is the new 30.

Of course, we used to say never trust anyone over 30. So I am not to be trusted either. To be honest, the way my memory is these days, I'm not sure I trust myself.Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-11338044495058063722008-03-18T23:10:00.003-06:002008-03-19T00:13:18.931-06:00Picking Up the SlackAn ABC News article posted on Yahoo!'s home page caught my eye a week or so ago. The first blurb suggested something like: "Men find doing housework pays off in bedroom."

Believe it or not, I was too busy at the time to follow that teaser, and when I looked for it later the tagline had changed to: "Study: Men doing more housework." Hmm, what was up here? Had the guys learned of the connection between sex and chores and made news?

No, it was one and the same study, cited by the Council on Contemporary Families. I guess someone complained that the study gave no details on the frequency of marital relations, so the teaser line on Yahoo! changed midday.

Even without the titillating details, it is an interesting piece of research. It claims that men have doubled the amount of time they spent on household tasks in the past 50 years. Now anyone beyond first grade knows that zero doubled is still zero, but that's not what this study indicated.

Nooo, it states that since the 1960s men have increased participation in household tasks to 30 percent! Consequently, women reported spending a whopping two hours less on housework than they used to. My goodness, aren't the guys turning into such big helpers.

The area that has shown the greatest change is child care, where men claim to have tripled their participation in their children's lives. Women, incidentally, also have doubled the amount of time they spend involved in child care, indicating an overall change in how involved parents are in their children's lives today. I guess we've figured out that kids don't raise themselves after all.

Again, this is interesting stuff but there are some major gaps. My brief stint in graduate school gave me just enough information on scholarly research to figure out that this was not original research, but a literature review. Thus, there were no details of exactly how the researchers, a fellow from California and two from Israel, came to the conclusion that men are now doing more of what most women would call their fair share of the household chores.

How did the researchers determine this great trend? Was it self-reported data? I figure that it was probably a telephone survey or something asking "how much time do you spend on housework?" That would explain the big change: Men lie, oh excuse me, I meant exaggerate; women don't remember.

Think about it: If someone called and asked how much time you spent on housework, would you remember each packet of minutes involved in those mundane tasks of everyday life? For the person who really does the work, it would be utterly depressing to think that you'd spent probably the equivalent of a whole day each week on laundry, cooking, shopping, taking care of kids, etc. But today's sensitive male would likely boast that he'd done hours and hours of housework. Even if it was just folding socks while watching golf.

As for the prurient aspect, the article did report that when men do more of the housework, women's perceptions of fairness and marital satisfaction rise and the couple experiences less marital conflict. There's a no-brainer for you.

I'd like to continue with this fascinating discussion, but my husband just finished the dishes.....Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-76272023533936696642008-02-07T11:54:00.000-07:002008-02-07T12:49:43.122-07:00Let's hopeHope. It is such a difficult thing.

I've never thought of myself as Pollyanna, but I do prefer to hope for the best rather than expect the worst.

Tuesday's caucus offered me justification for such an attitude. Thousands of people turned out in support of not just the candidate I support, but the process of democracy. It was exhilarating!

Of course, I have to be prepared to be bitten in the butt, as has happened in so many other elections. Four years ago, by the time the process came to Colorado, the choice had been made and it wasn't mine. But I believed in the system so I stood in the November cold and made sure people had the chance to cast a vote for the lesser of two evils.

Lo and behold, the candidate was leading by the time I left the gathering of other voting-rights activists. The joy was short-lived, though. By the time I got home, the fix was in -- vote tampering or last-minute rush of Bush supporters we'll never know. Took a few days to be able to sit comfortably with that disappointment.

So this time I was not going to get involved. As much as I relish the idea of a First Gentleman (presumably the equivalent of First Lady) and a woman leading the country, I could not throw much support behind the politics-as-usual approach.

And then who should burst onto the scene, laying waste to my diffidence? A politician addressing my very issues with a message of hope. People may disagree about policies and opinions and whatever but almost everyone agrees Barack Obama is one smart fellow.

That, if nothing else, gives me hope. And the fact that no matter what, in less than 350 days, the person running the country will not be named George.Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-17393968183535266222008-01-28T10:38:00.000-07:002008-01-28T11:24:40.889-07:00Ch-ch-ch-changeIn my previous entry, I alluded to some thoughts for a blog entry on change. It was sidetracked/derailed by the demands of motherhood but has continued to burble about in my brain.

As I look out onto the mountains, I see that change is a-coming, weather-wise. The two days of spring-like temps are going to yield to what looks like a snowstorm arriving a little sooner than expected. Evening flurries was the forecast upon which I encouraged my son to bike to school this morning. Oops!

On a grander scale, though, the election year brings on change as a major theme. Everyone I know (in this protected Boulder bubble) is more than ready for a presidential change, and many of us are cautiously hopeful at the fresh face of the Democratic candidates. A woman and a person of mixed race --wow, now that's change. I don't think even MLK could have thought we'd come this far this fast. (Not that the work of social justice and civil rights is complete by any means.)

It is of course too early to tell what might happen in the presidential arena, but at least it is good to see diversity in the candidates. Given the past two performances, there is no guarantee of anything in our electoral system.

From the macro to the micro, I am often in awe of how change manifests itself within our own individual lives. Having our now-adult daughter home for the holidays started me thinking in this direction. To watch a person grow up is an incomparable joy (tinged with some sorrow at times), and our daughter is certainly breaking out of her cocoon into a quite amazing butterfly. For example, I mentioned summer vacation plans and she quickly snipped, "I am going to have to work this summer." Spring break at home was dismissed right off. What was I thinking?

But the most personally relevant change is the one I remember hearing my mother and her peers talk about oh-so-many years ago. "Oh, she's going through the CHANGE," they would whisper. It all sounded so mysterious and scary. Will she grow horns? Turn green and wrinkly? What is this change that seems to happen to women of a certain age?

As I near that age, I approach it with very mixed feelings. Of course, there is the uncertainty of how my body will react to the hormonal swings. Whether I will be a candidate for the various hormone replacement therapies is yet to be discussed. It is all so confusing--one study says they may prevent one cancer but another suggests they may promote a different one. What to do? Whom to trust? Reminds me a bit of the hoo-haw over birth control pills when I first considered taking them.

So, maybe it is important to remember that the more things change the more they stay the same. Change is the only constant. All those other trite-isms .

And like the snowstorm that seemed to be looming when I started this missive, if you just wait a few minutes, it will change. The sun is out once again, and the future looks oh so promising.Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-79044167386598369702008-01-08T11:08:00.000-07:002008-01-08T11:32:02.193-07:00The Sound of SilenceAh, the quiet.

The noise one child can make is quite astounding. Especially when combined with a sibling.

One, you see, cannot bicker without the other.

At least not yet. It's only been an hour since my youngest son went to his best friend's house for a playdate.

This is my re-entry into normal life, which officially begins tomorrow when school starts again. It has been 16 days (18 hours and 15 minutes, but who's counting) since the start of winter break -- and forced family togetherness.

Don't get me wrong--it has been a wonderful holiday. We've had some nice times. Decorating the Christmas tree with longtime friends from Texas, reveling the the snow with my Texan brother and his family , the New Year's Day gathering with a few friends with matching siblings for ours. All in all, a great way to celebrate.

It is just the almost constant bickering of my boys where I lose patience. "Well, he started it" echoes in my brain endlessly. I hear my mother in my response: "I don;t care who started it; I'm going to end it." I do, however, stop short of knocking their heads together as she did.

Nonetheless, it has been impossible to maintain any sane strain of thought during this time. Taking the ornaments from the tree on the day after Barack Obama's awesome win in Iowa, I mentally composed an entry for this blog on the important role of change in society. Out with the old, in with the new, I wrote in my head.

But before I could get pen to paper (or more accurately, fingers to keyboard), I had to don my referee stripes and mediate yet another tragic consequence of brotherhood. After raising these two, I think I could go into foreign service negotiating peace agreements.

No one said parenting would be easy, but then no one ever mentioned it would be quite this challenging either.

Anyone up for year-round schooling?Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-21786335988388502062007-12-20T10:09:00.000-07:002007-12-20T10:46:57.586-07:00Words to the WiseHome from her first semester at college, my daughter mentioned the other day that she was going to declare her major next semester. It will be English.

Is there any better way to say "I don't know what I want to be when I grow up" than to declare your major as English? I suppose she could have chosen philosophy.

Don't misunderstand now, I love literature and words. I am a writer after all. It is just that if we were to take all the English majors in the world, the unemployment line would reach the moon.

English majors are just not valued in today's society, despite how helpful they undoubtedly could be in myriad places. Take, for example, the current Supreme Court appeal of the District of Columbia gun ban, the question apparently hangs on the Second Amendment's use (or overuse, one might argue) of the comma.

The text reads: A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed.

Depending on how you interpret the commas, this cornerstone of American democracy either says that all people have the right keep and bear arms or that being part of the militia gives a person the right to carry a weapon. Or only the militia can keep guns.

And who will be advising the Supreme Court on this weighty matter? A bunch of lawyers who probably never stepped foot in a college grammar class, let alone read the classical literature that inspired the framers of the Constitution.

Let's face it, proper grammar, spelling and punctuation has gone the way of the typewriter.

Brevity is everything in this text-messaging world. Why, even the learned Merriam-Webster Dictionary capitulated to computer jargon in selecting its 2007 word of the year as "w00t" (complete with double zeros in the middle).

All I can say is I won't count on my daughter's support in my old age. :(Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-51742537069204394562007-12-13T13:31:00.000-07:002007-12-13T13:46:52.996-07:00Putting the Pro in ProcrastinationProcrastination is an evil, evil thing.
I've been meaning to post something new on this blog for at least a week now. There's always something else to do. Especially this time of year. Cards, gifts, decorations, parties... the list goes on and on.
In fact, that's my usual technique for avoiding the avoiding of tasks--I make a list of what needs to be done. I should have a second column next to the task that provides the anti-delaying strategy.
But then making the list is in itself procrastination -- make the list to avoid doing the job.
As I sit here, I can think of at least three other things I should be doing. All day I've been waffling between doing the holiday shopping or the decorating. It is supposed to snow tonight, so I figure I won't want to be driving around tomorrow, but I definitely won't want to be out stringing lights on the roof either.
And the computer is the absolute worst enabler of this malady of mine. There are so many fun sites to check out--other blogs, email, shopping, games, etc. Without even realizing it, a whole day can go by and I've barely left the keyboard.
So, I've decided something has to be done. I'm going to put the pedal to the metal and stop procrastinating.
I'll start tomorrow.
Kathy Leftwichhttp://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-78681943937762117642007-12-04T12:02:00.000-07:002007-12-04T13:35:04.327-07:00Ho, ho, hold on to your walletTis the season to be jolly, or so the song says.

Of course, what most of us find is that it is more of a season to say "oh, golly."

As in "Oh golly, I have too much to do" or "Oh golly I'm supposed to buy something for the janitor at my kids' school, too?" (You might use another, more powerful phrase than "Oh golly" but I have no control over who reads this, so I want to stay family-oriented. )

Don't get me wrong, I am no Grinch. I love the holidays, whether it is Chanukah, Kwanzaa, Christmas, the Winter Solstice or some ancient Himalayan ritual you celebrate. I am all in favor of anything that involves chocolate.

What bothers me, though, is not just the commercialization. It's been that way as long as I've been alive so that is all I know. What particularly struck me this morning on the radio was an advertisement by a bank, encouraging people to come in and buy a gift card for that special someone.

A bank?! Why not just stuff an envelope full of cash and be done with it? Too crass? Well, what's the difference? The recipient doesn't immediately know the amount, so the first response can't be "what a cheapskate." With the equivalent of a credit card with a specific limit, the bank credit card does not even say to the givee "I know you like to shop at Potholders Paradise,
so go wild. "

All a gift card says is "I didn't want to think about what you might like, so go buy it yourself."

Sure, at roughly 2x3 inches, a card is a lot easier to mail than the cello little Tommy has always wanted. Saves postage, saves time, saves thought... what more could you want?

Personally, I feel that if a person does not know enough about me to choose an appropriate gift, they shouldn't be buying me one.

"What if they already have everything?" you may posit. No one has everything. If he/she does have everything, a gift card is probably not going to rock his/her world. At least not one you can afford.

Why not just buy something you think the person would like -- yes, actually put some thought into it -- and attach the receipt (many stores now offer gift receipts without the exact price right there for everyone to see). If it is a duplicate or the wrong color/size/brand/whatever, it can be exchanged.

"Oh but that's so much trouble," you may say. What's the difference? The recipient would have to go to the store, just as he/she would with a gift card, and find the right size/color/brand/whatever, just as he/she would with a gift card. The biggest difference would be that there is a limited time for exchanges, so it gets done! No anonymous cards floating around in a wallet for months.

The people who would not take the time to exchange something probably would not take the time to use a gift card either, at least not at the time and in the spirit in which the gift was intended. As research has shown, more than one-fourth of gift cards purchased are never used. And many cards contain that teeny-tiny print with (to use the words of Robin Williams' Genie ) terms, conditions, limitations, exceptions and provisos that may make your gift not as valuable as you intended. An excellent report from Montgomery County (MD) rates cards and points out common problems: http://www.montgomerycountymd.gov/content/ocp/giftcards2007final.pdf

Gift cards do have their place, though. For example, group gifts, say, for the teacher or boss. How many apple magnets can one person use, after all. And pooling a bunch of $5 contributions does make a nicer statement than a load of coffee mugs.

As in many situations, food is an answer. Large restaurant chains and even smaller spots offer the cards or just the old-fashioned gift certificate. Let's face it, everyone eats.

Another acceptable use is for kids, who think it is so fun to go to the store and pick out what they want. It is a trap for the parents though. Say Great-Aunt Judy sends little Emma a gift card for $10 because, well, Judy hasn't shopped for toys lately. What Emma just has to have at the toy store is $14.99 (because you've bought everything else already), so guess who has to fork over the other $4.99+tax. Just try explaining tax to a five-year-old.

Though a good idea at the heart, the gift card seems to have become one more way for the retail sector to take our money, as the old election joke goes, early and often.

After all, it is supposed to be the thought that counts, so how 'bout we put a little thought into it.Kathy Leftwichhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-78472185489542107012007-11-30T12:37:00.001-07:002007-11-30T17:15:19.019-07:00B is for BroccoliCookie Monster is no longer a cookie freak. How can this be? What is the world coming to?

This is apparently not new news (how's that for a repetitive redundancy?) but it is to me. Not sure which cave I was living in when the Sesame Street people announced this, but somehow the info slipped past my radar screen. In 2005, the Children's Workshop announced that the beloved blue character would adopt more healthful habits.

Instead of the classic "C is for Cookie" song, of which I must admit I know all the words, the lovable furry friend now growls out "Cookie is a Sometimes Food" to encourage moderation and better food choices among the viewers. Aside from the questionable grammar of the title (sometimes is an adverb not an adjective), the whole idea is so, well, wrong.

Yes, it's true that American children are getting fatter -- 1 in 3 is now considered overweight -- but changing the essential nature of a cartoon-like character is not the answer. For starters, I'd guess that most kids who watch Sesame Street are not the problem. Parents who choose public television are generally more enlightened and thus, more than likely, aware of the risks of childhood obesity.

Add to that the "forbidden fruit" notion -- make something bad and it instantly becomes desirable -- and the reality that children rarely do EXACTLY what they see a character on TV doing and you see that the trend toward political correctness has gone way out of control.

We all know that speeding is dangerous so should Road Runner slow down to 30 mph on those steep winding turns? Should Porky Pig clean up his closing line so as not to offend people with speech impediments? Where does it stop?

Lighten up, folks! It is a children's show. Leave Cookie alone and add balance in more subtle ways -- I've got a great recipe for zucchini chocolate chip cookies.Kathy Leftwichhttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-6580433909680647960.post-23333846229776973342007-11-29T09:32:00.001-07:002007-11-29T10:37:44.809-07:00An IntroSo this is blogging. For something so 21st century, it seems so easy. But maybe that's what Goggle is creating for our future--a fill-in-the-blanks world. A Google ID and you're up, up and away.

A meeting of the Boulder Writers Alliance on Tuesday gave me a preview of Microsoft's vision for the next few years, via Vista and Office 2007. It is a bright and colorful world with lots of cool graphics and "ribbons" instead of tool bars. Pick a color, any color. No design skill or knowledge needed, just click the one you like.

First of all, the name. What is the Cunning Hand? A play on my maiden name, Cunningham, for starters. And an acknowledgment of my new-found creativity. You see, I was co-editor of my high school newspaper and thus a columnist. The adviser kept trying to get me to come up with a creative name for the column. A previous editor named Pat called his Pat on the Back, because it appeared on the back page. Maybe he was thinking of Cunning Hand all along but hoped I'd come to it on my own. I didn't: I used something like Kathy's Corner or nothing at all. All I could think of was the derisive mangling of the name that (I later discovered) had to do with sex.

I suppose I've always been creative, but am just now acknowledging it and its uses. Like, maybe the last sentence of the last paragraph is going to bring me even more email solicitations for increasing the size of a body part I do not have.

The Cunning Hand is my way of putting into "print" my unique talent for observing, writing about it and, basically, being a smart-aleck. I hope to make you think and make you laugh.

I am in a very lucky place in life now. My proverbial "dues" have been paid through years of marginally interesting and challenging jobs while raising three children and a clever, successful husband. If I'd been paid for just the meals I've made in the past 20-some years, I'd be rich enough to retire. So, I get to sit at my computer, looking out on the beauty of Boulder's open space, and indulge in something that gives me joy--writing. I hope it gives you joy as well.
Kathy Leftwichhttp://email@example.com


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Published 4:00 am, Friday, February 2, 1996
New directorat Coyote Point San Mateo Judith L. Chovan, former executive director of the Dayton Society of Natural History , has become the new executive director of Coyote Point Museum for Environmental Education .
She succeeds Linda Liebes, who left after 20 years with the museum.
In Ohio, Chovan directed activities for the Society and for SunWatch Archaeological Park, a national historic landmark. She was science education specialist and exhibits project director with the Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County. She also was with the National Park Service, and was a Peace Corps volunteer in Tonga.
- Two men on scooters cause traffic backup on Bay Bridge San Francisco Chronicle
- Barack Obama visited San Francisco on May 24, 2018 Demarris Evans
- Hermes Palo Alto After Party Carolyne Zinko, The Chronicle
- Why is San Francisco so foggy? Ted Andersen, SFGATE
- Flooding slows traffic in San Jose CHP San Jose
- Cougar attack: Isaac Sederbaum's 911 calls San Francisco Chronicle
- Disney announces 'Star Wars: Galaxy's Edge' Disney Parks
- CHP helicopter rescues injured climber near south Yuba River CHP - Grass Valley
- Woman rescued from south Yuba River CHP - Valley Division
- Overflight of fissure complex and lava flows, May 21, 2018 San Francisco Chronicle
Director namedfor music school Mountain View Robert L. Frazier has been appointed education director of the Community School of Music and Arts . His responsibilities will include oversight of the arts education programs offered at local public and private schools, and CSMA's family concert series.
He has been an institutional arts facilitator for the California Department of Corrections, a California Arts Council artist-in-residence in San Jose, and a professional musician, band leader and radio music director.
CSMA will offer free family concerts from February through June at its 253 Martens Ave. site. The series is called "Celebration of American Music." All concerts are on Sundays at 2:30 p.m. For more information, call (415) 961-0342.
Alcohol testprogram set up San Mateo The San Mateo County Restaurant and Hotel Association has established a consortium to test and treat drug and alcohol abuse for hotel shuttle vehicle drivers.
As of Jan. 1, U.S. Transportation Department regulations require controlled substance and alcohol testing for drivers of commercial motor vehicles. The ruling affects most of the county hotels' airport vehicles.
The consortium will provide both union and non-union hotels with the ability to pool drivers for random testing, which is part of a program that will handle record keeping and training of supervisory personnel and provide policy for affected employees.
The association represents more than 50,000 jobs in the county.
New Yearfood drive San Jose Second Harvest Food Bank of Santa Clara and San Mateo Counties will receive donations of food and money from the local Chinese community as part of New Year festivities.
The Silicon Valley Chapter of the Organization of Chinese Americans, the Association of Northern California Chinese Schools and the Taiwanese-American Chamber of Commerce - Northern California are sponsoring the 1996 Chinese New Year Food Drive.
The drive will end Feb. 28, and donations will be delivered to the food bank. Donations of checks and nonperishable foods may be dropped off at Ocean Harbor, 370 S. Winchester Blvd., San Jose; for more information, call (408) 243-3366.
New scheduleat Little House Menlo Park Little House , at 800 Middle Ave., is offering several events in February.
Among them are a PageMaker 5.0 Desktop Publishing class from Feb. 23-March 29; and Telecommunications from Feb. 24-March 30. There will also be an eight-week series of bridge classes for intermediate players, beginning Thursday, Feb. 22.
Other activities include: a free lecture-demonstration on Feb. 15 at 9 a.m. on daily foot care, by Dr. Craig Anderson; "Candide" on Feb. 21, part of the organization's Armchair Opera free series, at 9 a.m. in the auditorium; and a computer art show by Ken Gardiner, on exhibit all month.
For more information, call (415) 326-2025.
Palo Altowins 4 awards Palo Alto City of Palo Alto Recreation was the recipient of four awards given by the California Park & Recreation Society in a statewide competition.
The awards include the special interest category, for
"Safer Summer '95" ; special events / festivals category, for "Halloween Haunt" ; recreation, for
"Opera Per Tutti" ; and innovation, for "Buddy Up." <


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The distribution is unusual for several reasons. Most species of Partula are restricted to single islands — they're not good dispersers — yet this one has clearly got around. But if it dispersed from Tahiti under its own volition how (or why) did it skip nearby spots to get to the distant Cook Islands? And to make the story more intriguing why did only one of the multiple colour forms go roaming? So many questions, so few snails.
Diarmaid Ó Foighil of the University of Michigan suggests that the snails were transported around the South Pacific by prehistoric travellers who prized the white shells for their beauty.
The combination of aesthetic preference and fashionability made the unlikely introduction possible.
Read the fascinating story of Partula, pulchritude and Polynesian sea passages at the University of Michigan's web site and in the links kindly provided by Mo (which include the abstract of the paper in Proceedings of the Royal Society B). (Thanks, Mo!)


text: Research Article Current issues in administration: a more centralised bureaucracy? Br Med J (Clin Res Ed) 1984; 288 doi: https://doi.org/10.1136/bmj.288.6426.1317 (Published 28 April 1984) Cite this as: Br Med J (Clin Res Ed) 1984;288:1317 Article Related content Metrics Responses Peer review This is a PDF-only article. The first page of the PDF of this article appears below.


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What does it take to move a billion people out of slumber? 10 terrorists kill tens of people in a city of 10 plus 10 million and even a year later 10 million words fill its tens of newspapers and magazines. Tiger Woods has 10 affairs till date and counting and again 10 million voyeuristic words are pasted in the newspapers of the world on his 'affairs'. 10 days a proven demagogue K C Rao fasts, and his supporters threaten to raise hell, not just in AP but the rest of the country. Why even when 10 million people sign a petition calling for a "fair, ambitious and binding climate treaty" to be signed by world leaders, it gets attention.
10 years ago, after 10 innocent civilians were gunned down by the Army (Assam Rifles), a frail poet began her fast unto death... that continues till date. She has been under arrest for the past 10 years and has been force fed by the administration to keep her alive. Yet, even after hundreds of people have been killed by the armed forces in the intermittent 10 years, even after the doctors 'certified' her feat as being superhuman, even after tens of hundreds of protests and rallys across the nation in her support, even after a Nobel Peace Prize winner thundering in a conference in Delhi in 2006, "If Sharmila dies, parliament is directly responsible," there's wide spread apathy to this frail woman's attempt at responding to "extreme violence with extreme peace."
Besides Tehelka, whose beautifully composed article by Shoma Chaudhury is reproduced below, no major media house has 'dared' to cover her most extraordinary story. Books and plays have been written about a woman raped and now living like a vegetable in a hospital in Mumbai, while this rape of a woman by the government of a nation goes unnoticed. And this in a country where a 'breaking news' is broken every 10 minutes.
If the story of Irom Sharmila or even this melodramatic despite being a factual story from Tehelka, does not move you, then like Shoma Chaudhury writes in this piece, "nothing will." You might as well call yourself a robot.
This story is from the link: http://www.tehelka.com/story_main43.asp?filename=Ne051209irom_and.asp
Irom And The Iron In India's Soul
SOMETIMES, TO accentuate the intransigence of the present, one must revisit the past. So first, a flashback.
The year is 2006. An ordinary November evening in Delhi. A slow, halting voice breaks into your consciousness. "How shall I explain? It is not a punishment, but my bounden duty…" A haunting phrase in a haunting voice, made slow with pain yet magnetic in its moral force. "My bounden duty." What could be "bounden duty" in an India bursting with the excitements of its economic boom?
You are tempted to walk away. You are busy and the voice is not violent in its beckoning. But then an image starts to take shape. A frail, fair woman on a hospital bed. A tousled head of jet black curls. A plastic tube thrust into the nose. Slim, clean hands. Intent, almond eyes. And the halting, haunting voice. Speaking of bounden duty.
That's when the enormous story of Irom Sharmila first begins to seep in. You are in the presence of someone historic. Someone absolutely unparalleled in the history of political protest anywhere in the world, ever. Yet you have been oblivious of her. A hundred TV channels. An unprecedented age of media. Yet you have been oblivious of her.
In 2006, Irom Sharmila had not eaten anything, or drunk a single drop of water for six years. She was being forcibly kept alive by a drip thrust down her nose by the Indian State. For six years, nothing solid had entered her body; not a drop of water had touched her lips. She had stopped combing her hair. She cleaned her teeth with dry cotton and her lips with dry spirit so she would not sully her fast. Her body was wasted inside. Her menstrual cycles had stopped. Yet she was resolute. Whenever she could, she removed the tube from her nose. It was her bounden duty, she said, to make her voice heard in "the most reasonable and peaceful way".
Yet both Indian citizens and the Indian State were oblivious to her.
Draconian in letter, the Act has been even more draconian in spirit. Since it was imposed, by official admission, thousands of people have been killed by State forces in Manipur. (In just 2009, the officially admitted number stands at 265. Human rights activists say it is above 300, which averages out at one or two extrajudicial killings every day.) Rather than curb insurgent groups, the Act has engendered a seething resentment across the land, and fostered new militancies. When the Act came into force in 1980, there were only four insurgent groups in Manipur. Today, there are 40. And Manipur has become a macabre society, a mess of corruptions: insurgents, cops and politicians all hand in glove, and innocent citizens in between.
For young Irom Sharmila, things came to a head on November 2, 2000. A day earlier, an insurgent group had bombed an Assam Rifles column. The enraged battalion retaliated by gunning down 10 innocent civilians at a bus-stand in Malom. The local papers published brutal pictures of the bodies the next day, including one of a 62-year old woman, Leisangbam Ibetomi, and 18-year old Sinam Chandramani, a 1988 National Child Bravery Award winner. Extraordinarily stirred, on November 4, Sharmila, then only 28, began her fast.
Sprawled in an icy white hospital corridor that cold November evening in Delhi three years ago, Singhajit, Sharmila's 48-year-old elder brother, had said half-laughing, "How we reach here?" In the echo chamber of that plangent question had lain the incredible story of Sharmila and her journey. Much of that story needed to be intuited. Its tensile strength, its intense, almost preternatural act of imagination were not on easy display. The faraway hut in Imphal where it began. The capital city now and the might of the State ranged against them. The sister jailed inside her tiny hospital room, the brother outside with nothing but the clothes on his back, neither versed in English or Hindi. The posse of policemen at the door.
"Menghaobi", the people of Manipur call her, "The Fair One". Youngest daughter of an illiterate Grade IV worker in a veterinary hospital in Imphal, Sharmila was always a solitary child, the backbencher, the listener. Eight siblings had come before her. By the time she was born, her mother Irom Shakhi, 44, was dry. When dusk fell, and Manipur lay in darkness, Sharmila used to start to cry. The mother Shakhi had to tend to their tiny provision store, so Singhajit would cradle his baby sister in his arms and take her to any mother he could find to suckle her. "She has always had extraordinary will. Maybe that is what made her different," Singhajit says. "Maybe this is her service to all her mothers."
There was something achingly poignant about this wise, rugged man on the sidelines – loyal co-warrior who gives the fight invisible breath, middle-aged brother who gave up his job to "look after his sister outside the door", family man who relies on the Rs 120 a day his wife makes from weaving so he can stand steadfast by his sister.
ARRIVING IN DELHI on October 3, 2006, brother and sister camped in Jantar Mantar for three days – that hopeful altar of Indian democracy. Typically, the media responded with cynical disinterest. Then the State swooped down in a midnight raid and arrested her for attempting suicide and whisked her off to AIIMS. She wrote three passionate letters to the Prime Minister, President, and Home Minister. She got no answer. If she had hijacked a plane, perhaps the State would have responded with quicker concession.
But, in a sense, the humbling power of Sharmila's story lies in her untutored beginnings. She is not a front for any large, coordinated political movement. And if you were looking for charismatic rhetoric or the clichéd heat of heroism, you would have been disappointed by the quiet woman in Room 57 in the New Private Ward of AIIMS in New Delhi. That 34-yearold's satyagraha was not an intellectual construct. It was a deep human response to the cycle of death and violence she saw around her — almost a spiritual intuition. "I was shocked by the dead bodies of Malom on the front page," Sharmila had said in her clear, halting voice. "I was on my way to a peace rally but I realised there was no means to stop further violations by the armed forces. So I decided to fast."
On November 4, 2000, Sharmila had sought her mother, Irom Shakhi's blessing. "You will win your goal," Shakhi had said, then stoically turned away. Since then, though Sharmila has been incarcerated in Imphal within walking distance of her mother, the two have never met.
"What's the use? I'm weak-hearted. If I see her, I will cry," Shakhi says in a film on Sharmila made by Delhi-based filmmaker Kavita Joshi, tears streaming down her face. "I have decided that until her wish is fulfilled, I won't meet her because that will weaken her resolve… If we don't get food, how we toss and turn in bed, unable to sleep. With the little fluid they inject into her, how hard must her days and nights be… If this Act could just be removed even for five days, I would feed her rice water spoon by spoon. After that, even if she dies, we will be content, for my Sharmila will have fulfilled her wish."
This brave, illiterate woman is the closest Sharmila comes to an intimation of god. It is the shrine from which she draws strength. Ask her how hard it is for her not to meet her mother and she says, "Not very hard," and pauses. "Because, how shall I explain it, we all come here with a task to do. And we come here alone."
For the rest, she practices four to five hours of yoga a day — self-taught — "to help maintain the balance between my body and mind". Doctors will tell you Sharmila's fast is a medical miracle. It is humbling to even approximate her condition. But Sharmila never concedes any bodily discomfort. "I am normal. I am normal," she smiles. "I am not inflicting anything on my body. It is not a punishment. It is my bounden duty. I don't know what lies in my future; that is God's will. I have only learnt from my experience that punctuality, discipline and great enthusiasm can make you achieve a lot." The words — easy to dismiss as uninspiring clichés — take on a heroic charge when she utters them.
For three long years later, nothing has changed. The trip to Delhi yielded nothing. As Sharmila enters the tenth year of her fast, she still lies incarcerated like some petty criminal in a filthy room in an Imphal hospital. The State allows her no casual visitors, except occasionally, her brother — even though there is no legal rationale for this. (Even Mahasweta Devi was not allowed to see her a few weeks ago.) She craves company and books – the biographies of Gandhi and Mandela; the illusion of a brotherhood. Yet, her great — almost inhuman — hope and optimism continues undiminished.
But the brother's frustration is as potent. The failure of the nation to recognise Irom Sharmila's historic satyagraha is a symptom of every lethargy that is eroding the Northeast. She had already been fasting against AFSPA for four years when the Assam Rifles arrested Thangjam Manorama Devi, a 32-year-old woman, allegedly a member of the banned People's Liberation Army. Her body was found dumped in Imphal a day later, marked with terrible signs of torture and rape. Manipur came to a spontaneous boil. Five days later, on July 15, 2004, pushing the boundaries of human expression, 30 ordinary women demonstrated naked in front of the Assam Rifles headquarters at Kangla Fort. Ordinary mothers and grandmothers eking out a hard life. "Indian Army, rape us too", they screamed. The State responded by jailing all of them for three months.
Every commission set up by the government since then has added to these injuries. The report of the Justice Upendra Commission, instituted after the Manorama killing, was never made public. In November 2004, Prime Minister Manmohan Singh set up the Justice Jeevan Reddy Committee to review the AFSPA. Its recommendations came in a dangerously forked tongue. While it suggested the repeal of the AFSPA, it also suggested transfering its most draconian powers to the Unlawful Activities (Prevention) Act. Every official response is marked with this determination to be uncreative. The then Defence Minister Pranab Mukherjee had rejected the withdrawal or significant dilution of the Act on the grounds that "it is not possible for the armed forces to function" in "disturbed areas" without such powers.
Yet, three years later, nothing has changed. After the boundless, despairing anger of the 'Manorama Mothers', the government did roll back the AFSPA from some districts of Imphal city. But the viral has transmitted itself elsewhere. Today, the Manipur police commandoes have taken off where the army left off: the brutal provisions of AFSPA have become accepted State culture. There is a phrase for it: "the culture of impunity". On July 23 this year, Sanjit, a young former insurgent was shot dead by the police in a crowded market, in broad daylight, in one of Imphal's busiest markets. An innocent by-stander Rabina Devi, five months pregnant, caught a bullet in her head and fell down dead as well. Her two-year old son, Russell was with her. Several others were wounded.
But for an anonymous photographer who captured the sequence of Sanjit's murder, both these deaths would have become just another statistic: two of the 265 killed this year. But the photographs – published in TEHELKA – offered damning proof. Manipur came to a boil again.
Four months later, people's anger refuses to subside. With typical ham-handedness, Chief Minister Ibobi Singh first tried to brazen his way through. On the day of Sanjit's murder, he claimed in the Assembly that his cops had shot an insurgent in a cross-fire. Later, confronted by TEHELKA'S story, he admitted he had been misled by his officers and was forced to set up a judicial enquiry. However, both he and Manipur DGP Joy Kumar continue to claim that TEHELKA's story is a fabrication.
Still, hope sputters in small measure. Over the past few months, as protests have raged across the state, dozens of civil rights activ ists have been frivolously arrested under the draconian National Security Act. Among these was a reputed environmental activist, Jiten Yumnam. On November 23, an independent Citizens' Fact Finding Team released a report called Democracy 'Encountered': Rights' Violations in Manipur and made a presentation to the Central Home Ministry. A day later, Home Secretary Gopal Pillai informed KS Subramanian, a former IPS officer and a member of the fact-finding team, that the ministry had revoked detention under the NSA for ten people, including Jiten. In another tenuously hopeful sign, Home Minister P Chidambaram has said on record in another TEHELKA interview that he has recommended several amendments in AFSPA to make it more humane and accountable. These amendments are waiting Cabinet approval.
IN A COMPLEX world, often the solution to a problem lies in an inspired, unilateral act of leadership. An act that intuits the moral heart of a question and proceeds to do what is right — without precondition. Sharmila Irom's epic fast is such an act. It reaffirms the idea of a just and civilized society. It refuses to be brutalized in the face of grave and relentless brutality. Her plea is simple: repeal the Armed Forces Special Powers Act. It is unworthy of the idea of the Indian State the founding fathers bequeathed us. It is anti-human.
It is true Manipur is a fractured and violent society today. But the solution to that can only lie in another inspired, unilateral act of leadership: this time on the part of the State. Eschew pragmatism, embrace the moral act: repeal AFSPA. There will be space beyond to untangle the rest.
But unfortunately, even as the entire country laces up to mark the first anniversary of Mumbai 26/11 – a horrific act of extreme violence and retaliation, we continue to be oblivious of the young woman who responded to extreme violence with extreme peace.
It is a parable for our times. If the story of Irom Sharmila does not make us pause, nothing will. It is a story of extraordinariness. Extraordinary will. Extraordinary simplicity. Extraordinary hope. It is impossible to get yourself heard in our busy age of information overload. But if the story of Irom Sharmila will not make us pause, nothing will.
From Tehelka Magazine, Vol 6, Issue 48, Dated December 05, 2009


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