text:
I ran across an old packet of incense someone once gave me, and I have lit a stick over my computer workstation here. The smell brings back the 1970s, and the small tendril of smoke has been fascinating to Dinah, who thinks it might be alive. Of course, she has additional reason for that delusion today. More about that in a minute.
I noticed, when I opened the incense box, that it was manufactured by the followers of Sai Baba. I have a long-time friend, older than me, who became a devotee of Sai Baba for a while, although I'm fairly certain it was not her who gave me this incense. She was a deeply pragmatic working-class Texan who had a gift for news photography. She also did reporting and was a DJ, before moving into sales because she was so good at reading people. When she took up Eastern religions, it was a bit unexpected but the humility and thrift actually fit her character. I made myself an interested listener, and loved the stories/slide shows she brought back from her pilgrimages.
Then, one day, my friend brought over a video of Sai Baba performing miracles at a retreat she attended. He wandered around, interacting with some folks but not others, and intermittently he "manifested" a string of beads or a small religious object into his palm, giving it away to the bedazzled person nearest him. The thing was, though, that it was patently obvious he was doing sleight of hand, shaking the things down from his flowing sleeves, and he wasn't even very good at it. My father was an amateur magician and he had more ability than Sai Baba. I looked around at my friend, waiting for the joke, but realized she didn't see the con. What she saw were miracles. I was rattled by her, of all people, being taken in. However, I had the kindness and grace to keep it to myself. If she needed to believe, who was I to demand my version of things?
My sleep these days continues to occur in inadequate chunks, partly for health reasons, partly because of my internal life. Bad dreams abound. Thus, I woke up early today and lay there for a few minutes trying to force myself back into slumber, to no avail. I had turned on the ceiling fan over my bed because it's getting up to around 80 every afternoon now. When Dinah realized I was awake, she appeared for arms'-length petting and a little chat.
So, I was awake when a largish black widow spider began lowering herself down a thread of silk from the central part of my ceiling fan. I spotted her when she was about 2.5 feet above me. I lunged to the side, as best I can with my current physical limitations, and scrambled to my walker beside the bed. Dinah initially froze in consternation -- quick movement is not something she expects from human beings, and she could read my anxiety. She looked around as if trying to decide which direction to run. Then she caught sight of the spider, who had stopped and was swaying gently in the air. Her pupils constricted and she went into a crouch.
I snatched up a spray can of a cleaner nearby, because I didn't have bug spray at hand, and aimed a jet at the spider. Dinah leapt to the top of my dresser, since I'd clearly gone mad, and divided her attention between me and the spider. It took a while for the spider to die. I actually like spiders, and even had a pet black widow in a jar for a while as a child. But I've also been bitten by them, and I now have a real fear of the pain they can cause. Eventually I was able to gather it up in a paper towel and bury it in the trash. Since then, Dinah has taken to watching open air for things which might appear, dangling, for her entertainment. If she could levitate enough to check out the sinuous plume of smoke from the incense, she would go after it.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Posted by Maggie Jochild at 12:03 AM 0 comments Links to this post
Labels: black widow spiders, daily journal, Dinah, Sai Baba
Friday, April 3, 2009
[Painting of the Battle of Little Big Horn by Lakota man named Kicking Bear (Mato Wanartaka), circa 1898, watercolor on muslin; click to enlarge]
Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
Thursday through Sunday, December 12-15, 2019
When Myra got up, Ginny had started a new painting, also small in size. As she ate the overdone eggs Margie made for her, Myra studied the crossbar on Chris's walker, which Ginny had finished and coated with a clear varnish since it was quick-drying acrylic.
The miniature but extraordinarily detailed scene began on the left with a herd of prehistoric deer and bison leaping across a cave wall, with two spear-carrying hunters behind them and one at the front to turn them. The proto-human at the front was not the minimalist rendering found in ancient cave drawings, but instead had the elongated limbs and bright coloring found on murals at Knossos. Beyond this figure, the scene morphed into bull-leaping, two young women and a man risking their lives by seizing the horns of a charging dappled bull and vaulting themselves onto its back. The woman who had already safely landed behind the bull, her bare feet kicked up a cloud of dust, found herself facing a fleeing cavalry officer. Behind him, to the end of the cross-bar, the soldier's cohort lay dead or dying while Lakota on beautifully muscled horses, Indians and equines alike in war paint, stopped a U.S. Attack on their village.
"Fucking A" remarked Chris, grinning at Myra. "She says one of the uprights is going to be a long stalk of corn with scenes from the history of Mexico and Central America peeking between each ripening ear."
Two strips of wood had been nailed into the wall behind the dining table and Ginny's river scene, still wet, rested up there, away from possible damage.
Margie set a plate of dry toast on the table and Myra took a slice to butter. Chris had almost finished her breakfast. She said to Margie "You sit down and eat while I get on layers."
"I didn't make eggs for Mom yet" said Margie, looking at Ginny by the easel.
"I'll feed her" said Myra. "Do you have soup for your thermos?"
"No, just tea. I'll take some pemmican with me" said Chris, struggling to her feet. "You can make us a hearty lunch because we're going riding with Ricky's friend this afternoon."
Margie shoveled in her breakfast and was ready when Chris reappeared from her room. After they were gone, Myra made hot cereal laced with cream and berries, and Ginny came to eat with her, silent and distracted. Myra set Margie's egg pan into the sink to soak while she began a bean and vegetable stew. She planned to make corn fritters to accompany it at the last minute.
She took a quick bath, leaving the door open, and replenished the fire. She still had an hour of writing time before Chris and Margie returned.
Chris ate almost a normal amount. She had always adored Myra's fritters. She then walkered to the bathroom and back to her bedroom. She left the buffalo robe on her bed, donning instead her black leather jacket and a wool cap pulled down over her ears. "Look what I got" she said, holding out to Margie a battered leather bridle with silver buckles and bit.
"Oh my god" breathed Margie. "You still have it." She turned to Myra. "This is the first bridle I ever used, and Chris made me put it on the horse I was going to ride. I was freaking terrified of those giant teeth."
"That gelding was practically inert" said Chris. "Safe as houses."
"Not your horse, though. I was scared to be within 20 feet of her" remembered Margie.
"Torquemada" said Chris with a laugh. "Can't believe I remember her name. Yeah, she was a handful."
Myra wanted to lecture them both about safety, but forced herself to remain silent. Chris told Margie to "grab me a fritter for the road" and began clacking her walker out the front door. Myra heard her say to Margie "Wait tell they see what's painted on this thing" before the door shut. She watched the jeep drive away before opening her laptop again, leaving the dishes on the table since Ginny still had not come to eat lunch.
Myra had pulled a pan of roasted turkey breasts from the oven to rest by the time Margie and Chris returned. She drained the new potatoes and dumped butter into the pot before coming to the table to look at Chris. Her eyes were dancing, though her skin was not a normal color – or, more likely, her new normal color, thought Myra. She looked extremely fatigued and every movement made her wince.
"The tramadol wore off about an hour ago" Chris said. She sounded a little short of breath. Ginny appeared beside them and put her hand on Chris's forehead.
"Do you feel like you might have a fever?" she asked.
"No. I feel good, except for the fucking pain" said Chris, trying to grin.
"Oh, Mama, it was fabulous!" said Margie, lying Chris's bridle on the table. "After a couple of different tries, I rode behind Aunt Chris, like she used to ride behind me, and we galloped for miles."
"How's your spine?" said Ginny, heading for the medicine cupboard.
"Starting to give me hell" said Chris.
"Well, how about if we try a fentanyl patch instead of the tramadol?" said Ginny. "I think it will take effect faster and maybe it will short-circuit the flare that's already begun."
"Fine" said Chris, surprising Myra. She must be really hurting. Ginny unwrapped the patch and stuck it on Chris's upper back while Myra held down the collar of Chris's shirt. Ginny went to wash her hands. Chris said "It's cold."
Myra poured tea for Chris and said "Dinner'll be ready in five minutes, I just need to dress the veggies."
"I'll help" said Margie, starting to clear the table. Ginny sat down next to Chris and took her pulse, watching her face.
By the time they took each other's hands and observed silence before the meal, Chris's shoulders had relaxed. She mashed one of the potatoes, pour turkey gravy over it, took a bite, then said "That's good shit, Maynard."
"The gravy?" said Margie.
"No. The dope." Chris made an okay sign at Ginny.
"Is there a rush, are you light-headed or queasy?" asked Ginny.
"More of a rush than the tramadol, but right at this moment I don't care" said Chris. She and Margie regaled them with stories from their afternoon through the meal. Afterward, Margie took a long soak and Chris went to sleep almost instantly on the couch. Eventually Margie helped her to bed and curled up beside her with her DVD player and headphones. Chris was sleeping too soundly to be disturbed by the small blue screen.
Myra woke up when Ginny came to bed around midnight. She lay awake for a while, breathing in the smell of Ginny and wondering if Chris would have nightmares from going deeper into drug dependency. But everyone slept on until morning.
Margie left for Seattle, saying she'd probably pass Allie and Edwina on the way. Myra took Chris to the creek and kept writing in a steady flow while sitting in the running jeep. When Allie appeared at the car window and knocked suddenly, Myra jumped so hard she hit her head on the ceiling. Allie got in the passenger seat and they talked for half an hour, until Chris sent up her semaphore and Allie went to get her.
Myra got an e-mail that afternoon from Gillam, saying mail had arrived at their house for Chris which appeared to be her vehicle registration renewal. Right before Sima had left Chris, they'd bought a new Touareg together. Sima had walked away from it, and Chris had transferred it to her name, but it still had very few miles on it. It was now in Myra and Ginny's driveway. Chris had insisted that anyone in the family who needed to borrow it should do so, no need to ask, and left keys with Gillam. Myra wrote Gillam back and told him to send in the renewal, write a check on their house account, and promised they would call at sunset to light candles and say prayers.
That night Myra slept with Chris. She was awakened by the sound of retching, and clamped her hand over her own mouth before turning on the lamp. Chris had pulled the bedside toilet to her and as Myra watched, she vomited into the plastic bucket again. Myra turned her head, willing herself to not hurl. Chris finished, lay back on her side and gasped "I'm sorry, I didn't have enough warning to wake you or get to the bathroom."
"It's all right, pal. Let me get you a washcloth." Myra slid out the foot of the bed, an iron grip on her own stomach, and turned on lights as she went to the bathroom. Ginny had gone to bed but left the bedroom door open, and her confused voice came from the dark, saying "What's wrong? Myra, is that you?"
"Chris is vomiting" said Myra. She heard Ginny stumbling out of bed as Myra wet a washcloth and filled a cup with water.
"I'll do it" mumbled Ginny.
"No. I'll make it, Ginny, I will" said Myra. But Ginny followed her to the room where Chris had started retching again. Ginny took the washcloth from her and held it against Chris's forehead until the spasm passed.
"Oh, fuck, it hurts my back to do that" moaned Chris.
"Is this a reaction to the fentanyl, you think?" Myra asked Ginny.
"More than 24 hours later? Seems unlikely" said Ginny. "Listen, go get the Compazine, and call that 24 hour number for the doctor."
The on-call nurse didn't return Myra's call for half an hour. By that time, Chris had stopped vomiting, taken a dose of Compazine and drank a cup of tea. She looked pale and listless, not quite dozing. The nurse said to take Chris to the ER if the vomiting persisted or Chris became unresponsive, but otherwise to push fluids and continue the anti-emetic.
Myra left a message on Bernie's service and reported to Ginny. Chris said "No ER", opening her eyes in panic.
"No way" said Myra. "We got it, honey." She lay down beside Chris, who rolled over to put her head on Myra's shoulder. Ginny carried the bucket to the bathroom and cleaned it out. When she returned it, Chris was asleep again.
"You okay?" whispered Ginny.
"Yeah. Wish there was room for you on the other side of me" Myra replied. "Go get your sleep. Bernie will call us early, she'll have something useful to tell us."
Bernie said it was probably not a reaction to the narcotic but rather a digestive issue. She promised to come out, despite it being Saturday, and take some labs plus look at Chris herself. She advised Chris to stay on clear liquids until she got there.
Myra hung up the phone, which had not awakened Ginny, and returned to bed with Chris. They were all asleep when Allie and Edwina came. Allie was instantly worried, and Myra put her to work making breakfast. Bernie came at 9:00, said Chris's vitals were normal, and okayed a small advance in diet. But Chris said her stomach felt fragile, and she stuck to tea and toast. Going to the creek was postponed for the day.
Myra made a potato and carrot broth for Chris's lunch, with no onions or seasoning except a little salt. She ate a cup of it, but got queasy and asked for another Compazine as well as a new pain patch. Chris's doctor called right before dinnertime to say her potassium was low and upped her oral dose. Chris ate more of the broth with toast at dinner and this time it didn't bother her stomach.
They sat around the fire, Ginny painting, and told stories. Chris's energy slowly improved, and by bedtime, she said she was sleepy but not wiped out. Myra lay down with her after Allie and Edwina left, and they got a solid eight hours of uninterrupted rest. Chris asked for eggs and rice at breakfast, and Myra allowed jubilation a small corner inside her chest. An hour later, after another dose of potassium but no need for Compazine, Chris said to Allie "You up for a creek run?"
"I am if you are" said Allie.
Chris was again red-cheeked and bright-eyed after returning from the creek. As they were eating lunch, Chris adding cooked chicken to her potato and carrot broth, the phone rang and Myra answered.
"Hey, Mom" said Margie, her voice loud and cheery. "I wanted to let you all know, I'm coming back today instead of in the morning."
"Oh, honey, it's starting to snow here" said Myra. "Will you be here before dark?"
"No, I won't be leaving town until after 5:00" said Margie.
"Then why don't you wait?" said Myra.
"There's something I want to show you" said Margie, a lilt in her voice. Myra glanced at Ginny, trying to signal without Chris being able to read it. Their plan must have progressed much faster than they thought. But lawyers and title offices weren't open on Sundays. Maybe it had come though yesterday and she just found out about it, thought Myra.
"Well, give us a ring before you leave town, then" asked Myra.
"Do you need anything from the house?" asked Margie.
"Yes. Potato flour from the pantry, more yellow miso, and any frozen berries or pecans from the freezer" said Myra.
That night they skyped in to sing with the family for an hour. Margie wasn't at Jane and Gillam's but Frances said she still had not left for Colville. Margie didn't call to say she was leaving Seattle until almost 7:00.
"That means you won't be here until 11:00 or later" said Myra, worried.
"I know. And I'll be sleeping at the motel, ask Aunt Allie to make sure the heat is on in my room, there, all right? But I'll come to your place first" said Margie.
She never could postpone giving presents thought Myra. "Turn on the weather radio in the Volvo" said Myra. "It stopped snowing but..."
"I promise to be careful, Mom" said Margie. "Now more than ever."
When Myra hung up, she realized Ginny had been humming for an hour and was now standing back, staring at her canvas and repeating "Okay. Okay."
"Are you done?" asked Myra. "That was fast."
Ginny let five seconds go by before saying "Yeah. I think I am." She dropped her brush in a cleaning jar and hugged herself. "Stay there, I'll turn the easel around."
It was a salmon in the process of being prepared for cooking, most of the head at the left side of the canvas, part of the tail on the right, and in between the body opened up top to bottom. It had been gutted but not deboned. The flesh was vivid and seemed to have actual oozes of moisture. After a minute, Myra realized the fish was lying on a dark grey boulder. Here and there were coppery glints of the now familiar metastatic bursts. It was exquisite and disturbing all at once.
"Jesus H. Christ" said Chris.
"I know" said Ginny, pushing herself against Myra's side. Myra said slowly "I wanted you to paint that breakfast we had beside the creek. I guess, in a way, I got my wish."
Ginny said "Is there any of that onion pie left from dinner?"
"Go raid the larder" said Myra.
"Speaking of which, I'm going to move my bowels with gratitude" said Chris. "When I come back out, how about if we play a game – like maybe Scrabble?"
"I'll set up the board" said Edwina happily. Ginny ate ravenously and sat in for half an hour, then excused herself and went to bed. Allie and Edwina stayed until 10:00, and they all agreed to leave the filled Scrabble board on the table, to show it off to Margie. Chris was in good spirits, what she was calling fentanyl-phoria. Myra left the kitchen light on, to guide Margie, before she lay down with Chris.
She was not able to go sleep, worrying about her daughter driving through the mountain passes. Chris's breathing was deep and steady. Myra pushed her face into Chris's hair, smelling of the outdoors, still, and felt Chris unconsciously push back against her. She lay with her eyes open. When a car pulled into the driveway, an angle of light came in one of Chris's windows and reflected against the window on the perpendicular wall, so Myra should be able to catch a glint when Margie arrived.
The clock on Chris's nightstand reached 11:00 and passed it. Myra began trying to distract herself from waiting on Margie, but she couldn't come up with something to think about that didn't eventually lead back to her children. Finally, at 11:19, a flash of light along with a crunch of gravel allowed her to breathe out fully. She got up quietly and walked to the front door in her socks, standing in the open doorway and letting warm air eddy out.
Margie was already beside the car, lifting a pair of soft-sided bags. Myra was surprised to see another person coming around the front of the car. They were still in the shadow, but even in the dark Myra could tell they were too tall and wide to be Frances. And definitely not Carly or Eric.
As they stepped into the yellow box of light from the kitchen, Myra gasped. It was Sima.
© 2009 Maggie Jochild.
Posted by Maggie Jochild at 6:22 AM 0 comments Links to this post
A mural in Ginny and Myra's neighborhood that the family refers to often, as in "I walked the dogs as far as the treed cat".
Here's a singular treat: A photo essay of Myra and Ginny's environs on Capital Hill in Seattle. For reasons of privacy, I won't share a photo of their actual house (old or new). But you'll recognize the shots below. All photographs courtesy of my extraordinary friend Martha.
Horizon Books, where Myra shops weekly when she's not ordering online from Powell's in Portland.
Interior of Horizon Books, showing the chair where Myra sits to browse through a stack of volumes she's thinking about buying -- as if she doesn't always wind up buying them all.
Rainbow Grocery, the natural foods store where Myra and Ginny buy any groceries they don't get at Pike Place or order directly from organic farmers.
The bulk bins at Rainbow Grocery. This is where Myra met up with Ginny once, back before they were dating, and ignored her in order to flirt with some young hottie. Silly Myra.
Casita, a little gift and clothing store near Broadway where Ginny shops frequently.
One of the displays inside Casita -- you can see why Ginny loves this place.
Coastal Kitchen, their favorite place to eat a celebratory dinner or order take-out before Carminati's was created.
"The pond" in Volunteer Park, where Myra and Ginny took their children and now the grandchildren to sail boats and feed ducks.
Inside the top of the Water Tower in Volunteer Park. This is where Myra made the decision, after Gil's death, which resulted in her recovery and the road to Ginny. She still goes here to think over tough issues.
Capital Hill from the top of the Water Tower.
The Seattle Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park. Ginny comes here all the time.
Sculpture in front of the Seattle Asian Art Museum in Volunteer Park. When Myra and Ginny split up on a trip to the park, they arrange a time to meet at the "big doughnut in front of the museum".
The apartments where Jane and Gillam, Carly and Eric lived when they first moved back to Capital Hill from Olympia.
The front of Margie and Frances's house. Carminati's is to the right, past a driveway.
Part of the back yard of Margie and Frances' house. The big window looks into the pantry area of their kitchen.
Ms. Schevitz's former house, across the street. It was painted red after she moved out; when she lived there, it was blue.
An alley near Myra and Ginny's house where they always go on walks, with the dogs or without. They like to browse from the grapevines.
Part of the embedded art in the sidewalk, created by Ginny and Co., which marks the spot where Ginny first kissed Myra.
Posted by Maggie Jochild at 1:56 AM 0 comments Links to this post
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
(Camptown Ladies, paper cut by Kara Walker)
Hi, y'all. I've been fasting in terms of news and analysis, not just the dreadful network coverage, but also from even many progressive blogs. It seems like almost everybody is scared and instead of calmly admitting that, letting the fear work its way out, and using humor/kindness/connection to keep our spirits up, folks are trying to think their way out of a grim situation. The problem is, being scared shitless doesn't lend itself to clear thought. I know the Hollywood version is that a hero somehow magically knows what to do under pressure, the exact right button to push, and this is the example we're supposed to emulate. But most Hollywood heroes are morons in every other part of their lives, blocks of wood with two facial expressions in their toolbox, and I simply don't buy the myth that they have intelligence on reserve somewhere.
Further, too many of the people yammering away at us are the very ones whose belief system created the mess we're in, and I'm not going to trust their solutions. They want the system not to fail, but it has already failed. Epic Fail. I wish we'd all just stop tuning in to them. I'm sick to death of reading progressive blogs reporting on the drek coming from the liars and manipulators whom they damned well know are such -- it's not enough to know, you also need to stop giving them any attention whatsoever. No reinforcement at all.
What I already understand is enough to help me chart a new course:
(1) The system of growth at all costs has failed. Sustainability is now upon us.
(2) There was never as much money as they pretended there was in order to keep making profits from manipulating money. It ain't coming back.
(3) If we stop being the world's consumers, we have to come up with another reason why we are valuable. I vote for integrity, pluralism, and human liberation, how's that sound?
(4) If we give up the addictions of consumption and overstimulated attention spans, we have to choose recovery and work it instead of the Dubya method.
Obama is not FDR. He's doing some things well, others less well, and comparing him to Dubya is pointless because I have a used tampon which could do a better job than Dubya did. Obama and the folks he's choosing as administrators of his vision are not going to come up with a new way of doing things. He was crystal clear about that all along. He will find practical ways to keep things as they are, more functional but essentially unrevised. The good part of his methodology is that it will keep folks from starving and dying, a trend the Bush administration absolutely was not going to ever intervene to stop. This will buy some time for real visionaries to create and implement change. That's us, the Peanut Gallery. So don't get caught up in the minutiae of this period -- stoke your coals for the long haul and the big dreams.
Now, of course, it's important I own where I stand personally. I live knee-deep in the floodwaters. I have no more physical slack, most days, than you could find in a Nyquil dispensing cup. My health issues have taken a turn for the worse over the last month, making my daily burden -- oh, hell, I can't even describe it. You don't want to know. Just trust me, it's enough to have shut me up for a while.
I don't write if what I'm producing doesn't raise the energy in some way.
But, like John Lennon, I try to always admit when it's getting better, and I'm getting better. Emotionally and spiritually, at least. So here's my voice again, with a few things to share.
One of my struggles this past month is that my cat Dinah got suddenly ill, to such an extent that she vanished and would not come when I called her. I had no money or means of getting help for her/us for a few days, and I went a little nuts over it. Finally folks stepped in with funds, and at the same time she recovered from whatever it was. She's completely back to normal. Still, it's altered our relationship, at least my end of it. I now admit to myself how emotionally dependent I am on her companionship. She's the only living thing I see, week in and week out.
Night before last Dinah did her disappearing act again. I was eating my version of lunch, which is around 10 p.m., and I noticed she wasn't showing up to check out my plate. She won't eat human food but she always like to look over my menu and give me a critical glance. I realized I hadn't seen her for an hour. I began calling her, and she didn't respond or come, which she almost always does -- curiosity rules her personality. I tried not to panic, gave it an hour in case she was deep in sleep, and went back to work.
When she hadn't shown up in a hour, I began calling, then searching for her. Unfortunately, there are several places she can hide where I cannot get to her. I guess she was in one of them and in a Greta Garbo mood. She didn't appear again for eight hours, during which time I pretty much melted down, decided she had died of a sudden heart attack or something like that and I wouldn't be able to locate her body until it began deteriorating. No sleep or work was possible. She eventually came, after a long bout of calling on my part, looking like "What is your problem?" I slobbered all over her (metaphorically speaking, of course) and she allowed me to rave on about how much I needed her. Since then, she has adopted a new habit, climbing onto the back of my rolling office chair as I type and sitting in state, looking over my shoulder. I actually love the proximity, although it means I can't shift position in my chair and after 15 minutes or so, that becomes painful. Whatever. Even if she's fucking with me, I'm too attached to her to care.
(Postcard from http://www.stellamarrs.com/'>Stella Marrs)
A year ago, the national transcription company I work for part-time (which is consistently rated the best in the country, with a commitment to never outsource their work overseas), finally gave in to industry pressure and began allowing their hospital clients to use speech recognition software [SRS] as part of the transcription process. The way it works is that some physicians dictate their medical reports into the software, which then "transcribes" it and that version comes to us, the transcriptionist. Theoretically, we listen, correct the errors, and the software "learns" how that particular physician deviates in their speech pattern, making the transcription increasingly more accurate. For this we received a cut in pay on any report sent through that software. We had no choice in the matter.
Interestingly, the folks selling the hospitals this software strongly advised only the clearest dictators be allowed to use it at the beginning. I've been through this before with other companies, and could easily predict how it would go. Electronic medical records, for instance, typically demand 10-15 minutes of entry and review time from a physician for each patient seen. However, dictating that same report will take no more than 3 minutes of her/his time. Even the most tech-crazy young doctor quickly figured out they could not possibly keep up the patient load most of them have (about four patients per hour in a typical day) and also use the EMR system. It's far cheaper to pay a transcriptionist to create the record than use 10 minutes of physician time. But by the point the hospitals figure this out, the software company has cashed their check and moved on to the next sucker I mean customer.
Electronic medical records are far more accessible, which can and does lead to improved patient care -- if the physician uses them competently. But they also remove any hope of patient privacy. Trust me, I know. Don't tell your doctor anything you don't want to be publicly available, not if they're using EMR.
Speech recognition software is also doubly labor-intensive. The physician saves no time, her/his dictation requirement is the same. But the complete and utter garbled crap that arrives over the wire to me as a supposed draft legal medical document is a hazard to good care everywhere. I gave the effort of training the software an honest try, and at the one year mark, when even the slowest and clearest-voiced dictators are still resulting in "review for errors" reports which are virtually unreadable -- I decided it ain't working. In a medical report, the placement of a decimal point on a lab test or medicine dosage, for instance, is critical to well-being. Do doctors dictate "zero point two five micrograms"? No, not even the best of them. They say, in a rush, "two-five mikes". They use CVA for both costovertebral angle and cardiovascular accident. Peroneal means a different part of the body than perineal (VERY different part of the body). And so on. Me, with my human brain and decades of experience, automatically translate this into what they mean to say. I care very much about the absolute accuracy and usefulness of the records I product, because it is human health and well-being on the other end.
Factor into this the reality that a growing percentage of good doctors in this country are not native English speakers, or have regional American accents which the allegedly "smart" software seems utterly unable to comprehend, plus the fact that most physicians dictate on the go in very noisy environments (where background speech is picked up by the software and inserted as random words into the transcribed report), and the number of physicians who will ever be good candidates for SRS plummets.
So, I've stopped even trying to correct the first drafts I get. I start from scratch, transcribing what I hear, and it goes much, much faster than if I hop from word to word cleaning up the mess. The hospital plan, of course, is that eventually they can just use the software and phase out a transcription service. Well, lots of luck with that. As long as patients can sue for malpractice, the accuracy of medical records will be a profitable concern, and there is no machine that can replace what I do. Until that lesson is learned, all these expensive purchases and trials will come out of hospital budgets and get passed on to you.
Two tangents I want to follow from the above: First, last night I typed a medical report on someone famous who is a personal hero of mine. I'll tell you it was a woman, since you'd probably guess that much, but nothing else that might identify her. I wanted to look at the entirety of her medical record, but did not until during the course of typing her report, I could not ascertain the name of a particular physician from her past and had to go dig anyhow. I read her original History and Physical, which was revelatory. She has major health issues that must affect every detail of her personal life, and I had no idea. I view her very differently now, with heightened respect. I'll never meet her personally, but I've still invaded her privacy, don't you think? I console myself with a promise that I'll never, ever tell anyone else what I learned.
This is the second time this has occurred in my career. The other instance, it was a major actress who that year came up for an Academy Award. The movie she was about to begin filming had a health clause which might have kept her from the Oscar-contending role if they had learned of the condition which was being secretly treated (and which was the topic of the report I typed). I kept that secret, too, and I've never read about her health issue out there in the gossip trade.
Another reason why SRS is being tried out by transcription companies, in addition to demand from clients who are determined to learn the hard way, is that it is becoming increasingly difficult for them to find competent people to work as transcriptionists. It's not only that the ability to transcribe is a particular language ability which is akin to simultaneous translation -- you can learn it, but if you don't have some sort of innate ability, you'll never be really proficient. Those of us who have the ability can transcribe, editing as we go, without actually retaining most of what is passing through our brains. We can carry on a conversation, listen to radio or TV, or (in my case) write poetry and fiction in our heads as we transcribe.
But, as I said, it's not just the particular ability of transcription, it's also finding folks who can spell anything that comes along without looking it up or relying on a spellchecker, who know grammar and syntax backwards and forwards, and who have keen listening skills. These are all human abilities which are atrophying in our current culture. I hear that most grade schools are no longer teaching handwriting because kids use keyboards so much, which I think is absolutely ludicrous -- why not stop teaching kids how to walk, I mean, we have Segways, don't we? Or stop teaching basic math because we have calculators. The fact is, not only do these basic skills make us independent of electronics and petroleum-based technology whose days are numbered, they also help develop our brains in ways we can ill afford to lose. As a writer, I use keyboards for certain kinds of composition but not others. No single technique is best for any kind of activity, haven't we learned that by now? It's more of the dumbing down, lowest common denominator culture of conservatism, which understands that stupid, incurious consumers are the ideal citizens under their version of government.
Still, I promised to raise the energy, and fresh examples all around us. Folks are putting in gardens and deciding to eat better rather than "diet". Iceland elected an out lesbian to lead their country. (I wish dykes and blacks didn't always get their first breaks when things have gone to shit and it's questionable whether anyone can fix the mess we're handed, but a first is a first.) New Mexico repealed the death penalty. Religiosity in America is being slowly replaced by generic spirituality. The State of Missouri understands the real threat to our personal security is the right-wing among us, not those brown people from (fill in the blank). The Texas State Board of Education managed to keep some significant Creationist language out of our science education standards. I bet you have examples of how the floodwaters are receding as well, perhaps literally if you live in Fargo. Jump in and dare to believe. See you around.
[Cross-posted at Group News Blog.]
Posted by Maggie Jochild at 5:21 PM 4 comments Links to this post
Labels: daily journal, Medical transcription, no reinforcement for failure, speech recognition software
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Here's the weekly best of what I've gleaned from I Can Has Cheezburger efforts. There are some really creative folks out there. As usual, those from little gator lead the pack.
Posted by Maggie Jochild at 12:42 AM 0 comments Links to this post
Labels: LOLCats
Monday, March 30, 2009
(Miwok Indian grinding holes, Clover Valley, Placer County, California)
Here's another installment of my Great American Lesbian Novel (in progress), Ginny Bates. If you are new to reading GB, go to the section in the right-hand column labeled Ginny Bates to read background and find out how to catch up.
Monday-Wednesday, 9-11 December, 2019
Margie returned Monday afternoon, which meant Myra had a chance to be the one to take Chris to the creek. Chris waited in the car while Myra set up the yoga pad, thermos and folded buffalo robe. Chris leaned on her heavily as they traversed a jumble of rocks to the massive boulder with a built-in back and leg rest next to the icy falls. Myra squatted next to Chris as Chris settled in. The sky was pewter-colored and clear, and it was colder than usual. Pneumonia kept intruding into her thoughts, but she wasn't going to say a word, not with the look of calm joy on Chris's face as she scanned the creek.
"You know, this was a kitchen for a long time" said Chris.
"What do you mean, a kitchen?" Myra looked around her for house foundations.
"A place where people – my people – not only fished and gathered water-life, but also prepared it. That bank across from us is perfect for smoking racks. The falls I'm sure had fish traps but were also good for rinsing all kinds of things. And that boulder beside us, look at it. What do you see?" Chris pointed.
"Uh...it's flat, so I guess you could sit on it to work. It's got signs of water covering it at some point in the past, though, with those holes where rock has been eaten away" said Myra.
"Those holes are not from water action" said Chris, grinning. "Look at 'em."
Myra scooted over and peered into the five holes which went down into the hard rock at least half a foot. The opening of each hole was roundish and also about half a foot in diameter. Leaves and other debris had built up in the bottoms, and she was reluctant to explore them even with a gloved hand. Suddenly she realized what they were.
"My fucking god...they're morteros, aren't they?"
"Yep. At least, they began that way. Women would be grinding nuts, grains, roots in a shallow depression with one of these round river rocks, and after enough time, hundreds of years maybe, the hole would get deep enough to not be useful for that purpose any more. So they'd move on to a new spot. But the existing depression now became a cooking pot. Put in the soup or grain, add more river stones which have been left in the coals of a fire for several hours, and you've got a superb slow cooker" said Chris.
This was the exact spot where Myra had heard those voices from long ago, the time she'd visited while Chris was hiking up the creek. She shivered involuntarily: She'd heard those women making supper.
She looked at Chris, her lips trembling. "Let's cook in them again."
"Let's clean them out and make breakfast in them tomorrow. Some kind of mush, I've got stone-ground cornmeal which isn't exactly the same but it's damned close. With other wild ingredients." Myra was beside herself to try.
Chris said "Can you get them clean enough?"
"I'll come back later with scrubbers and something nontoxic. As long as they are just rock all the way down, I can make it work."
Chris's grin was dazzling. "You're on. I'll think about ingredients. Now buzz off, I need to talk with my ancestors."
Myra drove the jeep to a point where she could see Margie's red scarf in the tree but the running motor would offer no sound or fumes to disturb Chris. She left the engine going to warm herself, plugged in her laptop and opened the file of her novel. Funny, how it was about a creek girl. It was drawn from her own life, but would change forever now, because Chris was a creek girl, too.
That afternoon, while Chris took a nap, Margie came back with Myra and they cleaned out three of the holes, with final rinse of boiling water. They covered the holes with an upside-down plate topped by a rock. Ginny stayed at the cabin because she was starting to paint the front crossbar of Chris's walker.
They decided to wait on the creekside breakfast until Allie and Edwina could join them. The next morning, Margie took Chris to the creek. While they were gone, Myra wrote and intermittently watched Ginny, who was working at the table with the folded walker in front of her.
"You know, Chris made that joke about her family name, Kash. But the fact is, she's the only Kash left in that line. Ricky and Wayne have their dad's last name, and Tina took her husband's" remarked Myra.
"Did Chris's dad have any brothers to hand it on?" asked Ginny.
"No. Her grandfather did, and there are other Kashes out there, she knows them, but they're distant cousins. I wish there were more." Myra paused, and added "I wish there were more Bates, too. Cathy's sons and grandchildren are all Lerners."
"Oh, I'm not worried about the Bates" said Ginny, peering closely at her work.
"Why, because your art will make sure the name is immortal?" said Myra.
Ginny chuckled. "It would be false modesty for me to deny. So yeah, but the main reason is, we have incredible genes and culture, which counts more than the name. I mean, most of what's getting handed on is Cohen, not Bates, to be technical about it."
Myra thought about that. "You know, a lot of the time Margie uses Bates, not Josong-Bates. Which I secretly like her doing."
"You are such a sweetie-pie" said Ginny, giving her a tender grin for a moment. "I tell you what I love, the fact that you as a young dyke invented a whole new surname, based on your Mama's name, and now there's seven of you in the world. I get to be part of launching a completely new name."
Myra could hear the pride in Ginny's voice, and let it swirl around inside her. After a minute, she said "I don't know about the Kash culture, but Chris has sure left her mark on our family. And those genes, Ruby's stamped from the same mold."
After lunch, Allie and Edwina arrived only a few minutes before Bernie. Margie was introduced, and Bernie took Chris into her room for an exam, blood draw, and urine catch. They returned to the table for Bernie's report on her previous test results: Not good. Slightly more abnormal than the week before.
Chris told her about her plan to focus on First Foods. Bernie offered no objection, which Myra found fascinating. Chris had not mentioned the fact that she was spending two hours a day exposed to the cold, but Myra wondered if Bernie would understand that, too. Myra gave her a dozen muffins to take home, warning her "They're blueberry bran with flax added in, now that Chris is using tramadol regularly. She's been calling them Thunder Muffins, so eat in moderation." It drew a laugh from Bernie.
Chris went in for her nap and Allie joined her, saying the drive had been tiring. Edwina sat at the table with Myra and watched Ginny's progress as much as Myra did. Margie decided she needed to go into town, and Myra gave her a list of wild food items she might be able to find at the grocery store. When Margie returned, she'd found organic scallions -- "Which isn't wild, but closer than the alternative, right?" -- plus dried service berries, pine nuts, and kosher chickens. Myra roasted the chickens for dinner, saving the schmaltz.
Chris settled in her chair by the stove as dinner filled the house with smells. Margie said "The wood box is nearly empty" and picked it up to fill outside instead of making trips back and forth. Myra had walked to the dining table to set down a bowl of creamed corn, and glanced up at Margie coming back through the sliding doors with the laden box in her arms.
"Margie – There's a mouse on your shoulder!" she called out. Margie screamed at the highest end of her register and dropped the box with a crash, narrowly missing both her feet and those of Chris. She brushed frantically at her shoulders, made contact with the mouse and resumed screaming. It fell from her and she bolted into the kitchen. Allie lifted her feet onto the couch and said "Where did it go?"
Chris had gone into hysterics of laughter. Myra turned on all the lights and began scanning the floor. The bedroom doors were open, so it could have gone anywhere. Edwina and Allie helped her begin searching. After a minute, Myra said "Where's Ginny?" There was no sign of her in either of the bedrooms or the bathroom. Myra slowly raised her eyes to the ceiling, as if she might find Ginny doing a Summer Glau and clinging there somehow.
"Ginny!" she called out, bewildered. They heard a voice from the front window answer "I'm out here." Myra went to the front door to look at Ginny, standing with her shirt-sleeved arms crossed over her chest. She said "Gin, you're only wearing socks on your feet."
"Toss me the car keys" said Ginny, her eyes riveted on the door sill, watching for a mouse surge. Myra reached for them, but Margie was ahead of her, pushing out the door and saying to Ginny "I'll join you."
Edwina came from the bathroom, shaking her head. Allie said "Chris, stand up. Maybe it crawled into your buffalo robe." Chris had not stopped laughing, and Allie had to help her to her feet. The robe was shook out, with no trace of the mouse.
"Hell" said Myra. "If it's burrowed into furniture or a drawer somewhere -- "
"Maybe it went into the stove" said Edwina.
Myra gaped at her. "If it's in there, it's either Sam McGee or the spawn of Satan."
"Check the wood box" said Allie. "Could be it went back to the only safe-looking spot in the house."
Myra carried the box outside and dumped it onto a patch of snow. She yelled and jerked backward as the small animal streaked from the logs, uncrushed, and headed into the night. "Good luck" she called after it. She restacked the wood, shaking each piece before putting it in the box, and carried it back to the house.
"You nailed it" she said to Allie. "It's coyote snack material now."
Allie opened the stove door and began adding wood. Myra went to the front door and waved at Margie and Ginny, who had the jeep running. Ginny rolled down the window and said "If you don't find it, I'm sleeping out here."
"We got it" said Myra. "It's in the back yard again."
"You swear?"
"On my honor" said Myra. She went to get dry socks for Ginny. When she returned to the living room, Margie was saying in a defensive tone "You have to admit, it's one of those sentences you never want to hear – 'There's a mouse on your shoulder.'"
Chris, between giggles, said "Yeah, it ranks right up there with 'I used Poligrip on the dildo.'"
Myra wound up lying on the floor beside Allie, slapping the linoleum in hysterics. Ginny ate dinner with her feet tucked underneath her in the chair. For the rest of the evening, Myra and Allie took turns sending each other into fits of laughter by saying only "Poligrip."
Myra soaked more shredded pemmican overnight in water. Six round rocks from the creek had been brought home, scrubbed, and left on top of the woodstove overnight. At Chris's direction in the morning, Myra mashed the scallions, pine nuts, camas root, sea salt, and schmaltz in her own mortar and pestle, adding it to the pemmican broth in a covered container. They carried this plus bowls and spoons, thermoses of tea, corn meal, maple syrup, and dried berries in the back of the jeep. Margie loaded the rocks into a dutch oven with tongs and avoided contact between the pot and her clothing.
It had begun snowing, enormous fluffy flakes that had already covered the boulders and the plates. Ground cloth was spread, Chris was settled under her buffalo robe with a poncho over that, and the plates were moved to reveal still-clean holes. Myra divided the corn meal and liquid mixture between the three holes, adding some extra water because it looked too thick. She dropped one of the rocks into the mixture, and steam instantly arose with a cracking sound.
"Holy moly" said Allie. Myra put two rocks into each hole and handed long metal spoons to Allie and Ginny. They each stirred steadily as the mush cooked and came together. Myra could feel the heat emanating from her own hole, and marveled at the conductive power of those round stones.
In fifteen minutes, Myra declared it done. The contents of each hole was spooned into two heaping bowls, the rocks scraped clean and set aside. Chris took the first bite. Her eyes went wide, then fluttered shut. A sound of pleasure came from her.
Myra took a taste. Elemental nutrition she thought. She decided the flavor was too extraordinary to cover with maple syrup. The sound of their spoons scraping glass bowls was slightly muffled by the snowfall. Their cheeks were claret red, the white of the new snow was almost blue, and the boulders around them had gone black from moisture. Please, Ginny, please paint this moment she thought.
She didn't want to leave. Margie and Allie had a brief skirmish over who got to stay on watch, and Margie won. They put the dishes back in the jeep and the four friends walked back to the house together through the sky falling around them.
© 2009 Maggie Jochild.
Posted by Maggie Jochild at 3:16 AM 3 comments Links to this post


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// i n t r o : C h a r L o r o
Char Loro is a multi-faceted creative producer and curator of live music and dance events, immersive art experiences, as well as multi-media video & photo production. She is a space and experience designer, a connector and community builder, and a master of ceremonies.
Char is a true shape shifter - having lived in Canada's three largest cities, she's consistently had to reinvent herself, remaining nimble to change, and evolving with her new surroundings.
During her six years of living in Toronto and Montreal in her earlier 20's, Char attended Ryerson University where she graduated with a BA of Fine Arts at the RTA School of Media. She concentrated on production, interviews, and on-camera work, with content primarily focusing on hip hop music, and the arts and culture community of Toronto. She was the Co-Director of Video Documentation for Manifesto Festival of Community & Culture - Canada's largest urban hip hop festival. She interned for RapCity on MuchMusic and also independently produced live soul, funk and hip hop events.
// a b o u t
ShapeShifterStudio is a creative production studio that transforms spaces and designs immersive experiences through live event production and artistic curation.
Using a multitude of mediums such as movement, performance, installation art, digital visual projections, sound, lighting, shadows and textures - we like to play with colour, aromas, tactility, the intentional placement of people and things to facilitate a specific energy in a space.
We bring together an ever-evolving hand-picked squad of creative collaborators for each project. We are curious about the ways in which people intersect, connect, and interact with the events we curate and the environments that we design - with the intent that they will experience something genuine, captivating, and unforgettable.
Moving back to Vancouver in 2014, Char began to discover the underground music scene - something refreshingly different and unique to what she knew in the east - sounds that were more electronic, bassy and visually provocative. Her exploration with transforming spaces and designing multi-sensory experiences propelled her into founding ShapeShifterStudio.
Char is very passionate about activating urban public spaces and has brought her energy, event and emceeing skills to work presently with the Vancouver Mural Festival and the Vancouver Street Dance Festival since 2017. Over the last 3 years, she has been producing the '4 Elements of Hip Hop' event part of Vancouver Mural Festival, and has partnered with various organizations such as Public Disco, Vancouver Civic Theatres, City of Vancouver, the Museum of Anthropology UBC, and the Downtown Vancouver Business Improvement Association.
She has been building bridges between international arts communities, with stronger roots in Toronto, Vancouver, the Pacific Northwest (Seattle, Portland), California (Los Angeles, the Bay Area) and SE Asia (Singapore, Kuala Lumpur, Philippines, Indonesia). Char has been traveling to SE Asia every year for the past five years working with various communities, including Singapura Dub Club - a dub, reggae, dancehall movement in Asia. Char aspires to continue connecting and energizing communities worldwide, creating spaces for people to come together and experience the magic of her curations and environments.
As a community builder, Char aims to create as many opportunities possible for womxn, people of diversity + spectrum, and artists of street dance, street art and urban music - to be seen, heard and given equal access to thrive and grow.

subset: commoncrawl


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Gov. Deval L. Patrick warned yesterday that inaction on his pending legislation to create three resort casinos could result in the establishment of an Indian gaming casino in Middleboro with no revenue stream to the state. (T&G Staff/CHRIS CHRISTO)
Gov. Deval L. Patrick warned yesterday that inaction on his pending legislation to create three resort casinos could result in the establishment of an Indian gaming casino in Middleboro with no revenue stream to the state.
Mr. Patrick said he is pressing the Legislature to hold hearings and vote on his proposals for three commercially licensed casinos. He said continuing delays on the bill could eventually result in the Mashpee Wampanoag Indians setting up a casino outside of his proposals for commercial casinos.
Not only would a casino operating under a federal Indian gaming permit not provide the state with a revenue stream, he said, but the developers would not be required to pay for infrastructure impacts associated with such a large development.
The legislation he has proposed for commercial casinos would require casino developers to pay for all infrastructure impacts, such as those on area roads and sewers. He said overtures by major casino operators, including Sheldon Adelson of Las Vegas Sands, who wants to build a casino in the Marlboro area, and the operator of Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, who has teamed up with developers for a casino at a site in Palmer, are evidence of the high level of interest his proposals have drawn.
�Massachusetts is one of the four or five highest impact, most desirable locations in the world for the gaming industry,� Mr. Patrick said, adding that state residents are now spending more than $1 billion annually at Connecticut casinos. Considering the hundreds of millions in new revenue that resort casinos could bring the state, he said, �the up-side� of his plan would be tremendous compared to allowing an Indian casino.
�We want a vote. We want a debate,� Mr. Patrick said.
�If we don�t do anything, Middleboro can happen without the state having any revenue stream and having no ability to influence the infrastructure,� the governor said.
His comments come as the Legislature moves forward into its lengthy budget review season without holding what he called �serious hearings� on the legislation that would direct a portion of the gambling proceeds to the state.
Mr. Patrick said the scheduling of a federal Bureau of Indian Affairs hearing in Middleboro this March on the Mashpee tribe�s application to put 540 acres in trust for a $1 billion casino is evidence they are proceeding with the federal application process for a casino.
He said that the tribe would prefer a state commercial casino license because it would come with fewer limitations on gaming and would let them get into business faster.
�They are famously slow,� the governor said of the federal process for Indian gaming approval, making a state license process more attractive to the tribe and its non-tribal investors. He said a state license involves less uncertainty over the types of gaming that would be allowed.
Without the state expanding gaming, he said, an Indian casino could open a gaming hall with machines that look like slot machines but operate differently. �They don�t spew out money,� and instead track bets and payouts on cards, the governor said.
Under a federal gaming license, he said, the Mashpees could also have bingo games and other games already allowed by state law, and he expects they would also press for Class 3 gambling rights. That would allow table games and other casino games permitted at church Las Vegas nights in the state.
�Under the Indian gaming act you can have as much gaming as is permitted already under state law,� the governor said. �There will be an argument, I am sure, whether the occasional Las Vegas night that happens in church basements is a basis on which to argue that we already have Class 3 gaming,� the governor said.
Mr. Patrick explained what he said would be the price of inaction on his casino bill at a meeting with the Telegram & Gazette editorial board.
He said he believes there is growing public support for the resort casinos he has proposed and he said that he has enough votes to pass the bill if it gets to a full vote in the House and Senate.
House Speaker Salvatore F. DiMasi, D-Boston, opposes the casino plan, as does the chairman of the House Committee on Economic Development and Emerging Technology that would have to advance the legislation for approval in the House. Both have questioned the economic costs and benefits of casinos and the cultural impact they could have on the state.
The governor upped the ante on the bill this month by linking a portion of the state�s aid to cities and towns to revenues that would be generated by licensing fees from the casinos, but House leaders have not indicated they are ready to hold final hearings on the bill, and they are expected to replace the local aid money from casino licenses with other state funds when they review the budget.
Last year, two committees held separate hearings, one aimed at getting testimony from proponents and the other from opponents of expanded gambling. Yesterday, the governor said he wants a full committee hearing and vote held soon.
�It�s a serious proposal. It should be taken seriously. Let�s have a hearing. Let�s have a respectful hearing. Let�s hear from both sides. Let�s engage the debate and then let�s have an up or down vote,� Mr. Patrick said.


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The first step in enrolling your child in our school is to complete the "Interest in Enrollment" form and hands it into the main office with the require documentation attached. If we do not have any openings, your application will be stamped with the date and your child will be entered onto our Waiting List.
When a spot opens up in our school, or when we prepare for the next school year's enrollment, we begin to call children on our waiting list in the order in which they were received. Parents have 5 days to respond to our call before we move onto the next child on our list. Some special circumstances, such as children with special needs, may allow newer applications to be moved into a "high priority" status.
The program you are enrolling your child in will determine the next steps, but in general, parents must submit certain paperwork prior to scheduling an intake interview. The intake interview is a 3 step process (can be completed in one, or multiple day visits) and includes filling out paperwork (family information, permission slips, etc.); review of policies and procedures; and finally, a review of medical issues/concerns with our program nurse. While this process can be long- it is extremely important because it is the first time for us to hear about your child- and for you to get to know us!
We encourage you to bring your child in for 1 to 2 short visits during regular preschool hours before her/his first day. These visits will help you and your child feel confident, safe and familiar with the classrooms and routines at the school.
The following documentation is required when you hand in your enrollment form. It helps us to determine your eligibility for our program.
· 3 Proofs of Address (Utility Bill, Lease Agreement, any other monthly bill/statement)
· One month of paystubs, or other proof of employment (most recent consecutive paychecks for both parents)
· If parents are not together, please provide proof of support arrangement (if receiving)
The following documentation is required before your child can begin the program
· Immunization Record


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Kennedy on King – Announcing our New Location
Kennedy Insurance marked a milestone in our over 100-year history with a move to our new, central location, close to downtown. Our new building at 160 King West is spacious with lots of room for our growing staff and client base. When we were looking at new locations, one of our key motivators was to stay … Continued


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Preliminary Accident Reports
December 2007 Issue
October 2, 2007, Green Valley, Ariz., Cessna 172N
At 1205 Mountain time, the airplane sustained substantial damage during a forced landing subsequent to a loss of engine power. The two occupants, a private pilot and a passenger, were not injured. Visual conditions prevailed; the flight originated approximately 20 minutes before the accident. The pilot later told investigators the airplane developed a rough running engine and he elected to land on a nearby road. The airplane collided with a road sign during the landing sequence, resulting in substantial damage to both wings.
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EverythingBenefits is looking for an experienced Trade show & Webinar Marketing Specialist to join our growing team in New Providence, NJ. Our ideal candidate has the ability to quickly learn our industry, translate data into actionable marketing programs related to trade show, webinar, and other event planning and management to drive quality leads that will result in closable pipeline. You should feel comfortable working independently as well as collaborate with internal key stakeholders and ensure marketing priorities align to corporate strategic imperatives and always execute with excellence.
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We provide all the necessary domain, industry, and professional training! Performance reviews, feedback opportunities, teamwork and more offer opportunities for career growth Would you like to learn more about what it's like to Work at EverythingBenefits? Click here to find out.
Submit your cover letter and resume in the form below or via email at email@example.com.


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The Domes Limited Edition Print
The Domes Limited Edition Print
This is my largest piece to date, and one of the most fun. I love stories about conspiracy theories and I love sci-fi, so some of my favorites are the stories about how aliens got to Earth WAY before us humans did. This was my imagining a pre-human world with abandoned structures in our own landscapes lost to time. I want to believe!
• This listing is for an archival quality giclée print on watercolor paper (made to order) of my original artwork, "The Domes."
• Giclée prints will be signed and numbered in a limited edition of 50 (15x20 inches), and come with a certificate of authenticity.
• Giclée prints are made with colorfast inks that will not fade from natural light so that you can enjoy your art print in the original richness of color for years to come! (Artwork and prints should never be placed in direct sunlight).
• Ships in a mailing tube with insurance for domestic destinations. 8X10 prints ship in a mailer in a poly bag on a mat backing.
Have your portrait arrive in a black 1" frame and ready to hang! This will add 1-3 weeks to your turnaround time. I use Framebridge to frame my prints and originals so your order will arrive in a Framebridge box should you opt for framing.
Do not hesitate to reach out with any questions about this product.
Art & images © 2013-19 Ciara Barsotti


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Despite remaining a risk to reoffend, time behind bars might turn around a young offender who helped kill a man in a Calgary apartment, a prosecutor said Wednesday.
"I would hope … that he is genuinely remorseful and he will take this opportunity to turn his life around and not be one of those losers going in and out of remand," Crown lawyer Katherine Love said, echoing the killer's own words.
The prosecutor noted a presentencing report stated the killer, who can't be named because he was a minor at the time, had indicated he didn't want to "end up" like those "losers."
The offender, now 19, earlier pleaded guilty to manslaughter in the July 19, 2015, stabbing death of Levi Marance inside a northwest Calgary apartment.
Marance, 18, was visiting Calgary from Red Deer at the time.
Both Love and defence counsel Kim Ross proposed a sentence for the offender of 30 months of custody followed by six months of conditional supervision in the community.
That would be on top of the 25 months the teen had spent on remand on the charge relating to Marance's killing, since his arrest shortly after the stabbing, they told Court of Queen's Bench Justice Charlene Anderson.
Love said the total jail time of 55 months was justified compared to the sentence handed Jesse Sky Copenace for helping the youth repeatedly stab Marance with a chisel.
Copenace was sentenced to seven years last September, after earlier pleading guilty to manslaughter.
Both offenders took part in the killing of Marance, who was stabbed 13 times, including once in the neck which pierced his carotid artery and slashed 22 times.
Before sentencing submissions, Anderson heard victim impact statements from six of Marance's family and friends who packed the small courtroom to watch the sentencing hearing.
The victim's wheel-chair bound, disabled younger sister, Tahlia, listened as Love read her statement into the court record.
Tahlia Marance said her brother acted as her protector from bullies in school and now that he's gone she's had to be home-schooled.
"When I went to public school I would have bullies pick on me," she wrote.
"He was my protector, he would make me feel safe," the little sister said.
"He was sent by God to protect me, why did you have to send him back?"
Before Anderson passed sentence, the offender addressed the gallery.
"I would like to apologize to the Marance family and Levi's friends," he said.
"I hope some day in the future you can forgive me."
On Twitter: @KMartinCourts


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The holidays are supposed to be a time for togetherness and making family memories.
But what happens when your family isn't complete?
While everyone around you seems to be celebrating, here you are getting hit with yet another wave of grief that just makes you want to hide until it's over.
No matter when the loss was, there's something about the holidays that makes it feel like it just happened. The whole first year, if your loss was recent, is a litany of "firsts" without your loved one, and the holidays are just never going to be the same because not all of the important people are there.
It is easy to let the grief completely consume us and take over the experience.
It would be easy to just hide until it's over.
Not decorate and pretend the holidays aren't happening. But what about the rest of your family? All this does is makes you feel more isolated and like there's nothing left to look forward to.
You might notice that it's easy to get stuck in some pretty unhealthy patterns when it comes to stuff like this. Although you tell yourself that you're only going to hide from the holiday season this one year, it quickly becomes a painful habit of not being able to face this time of year, not celebrating with family and friends, and dreading the weather change.
Perhaps it was your father who died. It was unexpected and fast. You didn't know you needed to be preparing yourself and now that it's happened you have no idea how to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart so that you can move on. There are questions you didn't expect. Who are you without your father? Who are you going to call when you feel frustrated and alone? Who is going to play with your kids the way he did? Your chest feels like it's collapsing every time you think about it, so the idea of sitting through a holiday dinner pretending that everything is fine just makes you want to throw up.
At the time it might have felt like celebrating holidays had to be either the way it always used to be or not happen at all.
You might have felt as though celebrating would be disrespectful to his memory.
How can you sit here sipping eggnog and smiling blandly while someone else sits in his place at the table?
The problem is that by avoiding the holidays altogether all you are doing is keeping yourself from the only people in the whole world who understand some of what you've lost; the other people who also lost him.
Eventually you get to a place where the mere idea of holidays makes your chest tighten and has you running in the other direction. If this were just one year, maybe it would make more sense to shelter yourself in this way, but the unfortunate truth is that when we avoid events like these because we don't want to feel everything that comes up, it only gets harder to face it the next time. By not giving yourself the opportunity to process your feelings and move through the experience, painful as it is, you are teaching yourself that you are not capable of getting through this, and it will cause more avoidance later.
The holidays are hard for a lot of people, and grief is one of the major reasons this time of year is so fraught.
It's okay to need to go slowly, to need to take breaks, and to not push yourself too hard.
Facing the holidays after losing a loved one is an incredibly painful experience; there's no denying that. However, if we can learn how to move through the holiday season in a thoughtful and careful way, we can allow ourselves to experience some of the holiday spirit. When we learn how to incorporate our lost loved ones into our holiday rituals it is entirely possible to feel like we are honoring their memory and still loving and appreciating the people who are left behind.
Keep reading to learn how to get through the holiday season with a bit of holiday spirit.
Lost in grief
Grief is debilitating. You have already lost so much, and now grief has taken the brightness out of the holiday season and left you feeling decidedly un-celebratory.
You find yourself staring at the lights you usually love and feeling empty and hollow instead.
Living this way is empty and depressing, and you can't imagine having to continue on like this.
Find small joys and honor your loved one's memory
Although the grief threatens, at times, to overwhelm you, you can re-define what the holidays mean to you, so that you can celebrate with the people you love and still remember the people you've lost.
When we choose to create new rituals to honor the loved ones we have lost, there is the possibility of getting to have the holidays with the rest of your family and stay connected with less guilt and without the gaping hole of the missing person.
You can create new rituals to incorporate into your holiday so that you can grief together with the people who love you and understand what you've lost, so you can continue to make new memories, without just forgetting the person who died.
How to create new rituals to build into your holidays
You might be being crushed by the weight of having to celebrate the holidays without your loved one. One way to honor your loved one's memory and allow yourself an opportunity to experience the holidays with the people who love you is to create new rituals to honor your loved one. Making these new rituals may seem difficult at the outset, but all you are really doing is creating an outlet so that you can be honest about what's going on inside your heart. When you follow these steps, you will be able to find ways to honor the person who died and still feel connected to your family this holiday season.
Take a look at these steps to see how you can celebrate the holidays in a way that feels authentic and respectful of the person who isn't there this year.
Create new rituals to honor the person you lost
One of the main reasons the holiday season feels so overwhelming right now is that you don't know how to do the same rituals you've been doing year after year without a cherished family member. It makes complete sense that you are feeling guilty for even thinking about celebrating when they can't be here. Creating new rituals that incorporate your memories of the person who died can help you feel less like you are just moving on as though they never mattered.
1) Consider the Importance of the Person You Lost
When you think about the holidays, what role does this person play in the festivities? Were they the cook? Did they make jokes that lightened everyone's mood? Maybe they were a pain in everyone's butt and made everyone decorate the tree or put up lights 'just so'. Whatever it is that this person would contribute to the experience of the holiday, consider what this meant to you and the rest of your family.
Spend some time thinking about what might be different without them there.
This is very painful, but a necessary part of the process.
In session we can explore this in a contained, safe way. If I notice that you are becoming lost in your pain or having a hard time staying on task, I can very gently guide and support you so that you can come back to yourself. This exploration is harrowing but there are light moments in remembering as well. You might find yourself smiling when you remember how difficult or quirky your loved one was. I can help you notice and spend a bit more time on those memories.
When you explore what your loved one used to bring to the table, you will be protecting yourself from nasty surprises, and also starting the process of identifying where the holes in your holiday experience might be.
2) Consider What Was Important to Your Loved One About the Holidays
When we are working through grief, it is not about distancing ourselves from the person we lost, it is really about internalizing parts of who they were so we can take the best parts of them with us into the rest of our lives. Thinking back on the many holidays you got to spend with your loved one, you will likely be able to identify what the holiday meant to them. They might have said it openly at one point (or many times) or they might have just acted in a way that made it clear what they valued. Maybe the best part of Christmas to your father was sitting in front of the tree with only a fire for light sipping on good whiskey. Maybe the most special part of the holiday for your mom was watching the young children rip into their presents early in the morning.
With my clients, I help them sort through the jumble of memories they have been bombarded with lately so that we can pull out the parts of the holiday that really reflect the values and preferences of the person who died. We do this slowly and gently, so that my clients get to reminisce about their loved one and feel the multitude of confusing emotions that come with the memories.
After you do this you can start to identify what your loved one would have wanted you to do this holiday season.
When you ask yourself the question of what they would have wanted you to do, this process will help you develop an answer to that question.
3) Identify New Rituals You Can Use to Incorporate Your Loved One's Memory
Now that you know what you would miss the most about not having your loved one with you this holiday season, and you have done some considering about what was really important to them about the holidays and how they would have wanted you to carry on, you have a really good basis to start building new rituals into your holiday. Maybe it is waking everyone up super early instead of your mom. Maybe instead of sitting quietly and looking at the newly decorated tree with your dad, everyone could share a memory they have of your him.
When you schedule with me, I will help you to process the mess of grief and guilt and emptiness you feel.
We will find the small moments of joy.
Joy in reminiscing, joy in sharing these new experiences with the rest of your family, and joy in making new memories.
Developing new ways to honor your loved one through the holidays can help you feel connected to the person you lost, the memories that matter, and the people who are still here. You can celebrate the holidays again, and I can help you get there in a way that feels respectful of your grief.


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first, you learn to hurry. then, to hang around a bit.
remember your dad's coffee breath? maybe you were lucky enough that your dad assistant coached your baseball team. and so he came to like two-thirds of your practices and holy fuck there's been 147 school shootings this decade?!? interesting, though, that most of them led to 0 deaths. and very few of them had more than 2 or 3 deaths. (not to suggest for a second that those deaths weren't meaningful.) but i think that's strongly suggestive that the reason this shooting is resonating in a different way is because so many more students died this time. and, sure, the kids happen to be motivated, and pro-gun control, but previous school shootings were smaller in scope and less gruesome and less scary and fucking mother fucker how did i get roped into thinking about this again. it's constant. gotta stop. gotta stop...
so anyway. your assistant coach dad with his styrofoam hat. he was almost always there. at nearly every game. and inevitably. at every single game. you'd get shit-scared of some pitcher's slightly wild pitches. and higher-than-average-cuz-we're-fucking-twelve-and-how-does-any-twelve-year-old-throw-like-that speed. and you'd be up to bat. and you'd take your stance on the very outer edge of the batter's box. and you'd swing at three of the sloppiest pitches you ever did see then. and shrug your shoulders and hurry back to the dugout. and your dad (and everyone else) could see your fear with his eyes closed. and would summon you over with a quick little finger hook. and you'd run over all innocent and he'd grab you by the shoulders and almost shake you and tell you...
wait a minute. why was this parkland shooting more gruesome and scary and deadly than other school shootings? the only explanation is the weapon used. if he was using a knife. or a less deadly weapon. the coward couldn't possibly have mowed down so many excited, excitable students.
anyway, your dad would tell you that you better climb up into that batter's box next time and face those pitches like a man. and you could see in his eyes just how badly he wanted to tell that he'd "give you something to be scared of". and so you choked up your fear. tapped your bat on home plate. wondered how your dad's coffee breath got so bad. crouched into your stance. watched the pitcher wind up. and took one straight to the left temple. ... you came out of your concussion on the bleachers in your ma's lap. the drive home was quiet.
that's what we think about when we think about coffee. we have similar memories of beer. more strongly associated, though, with sunday mornings in high school when our grandma would comment on our stench at church.
anyway! we made a nice little coffee beer with our friends from gaslight coffee roasters for the the uppers and downers coffee and beer fest. tomorrow morning! in pilsen! at thalia hall! get your tickets here before they sell out. i know it's virtually there already.
and if you're already going, swing by our stand. we blended our bright-funky-fruity brett beer with a special coffee from the beloya washing station in ethiopia. it's called *YOU WERE TIRED*. and we can hardly stop comparing it to amazing things we've tasted. all in the past, of course.
now you have coffee breath. and, sometimes, beer breath. and it's bad. but you might as well hang around others with the same affliction. and sure: if we banned extra-special deadly weapons like the one used at parkland, such cowardly criminals could still get them on the black market. but would they? query: all these mass murderers use semi-automatic weapons. why don't they use fully-automatic weapons? is it because fully automatic weapons are harder to get, perhaps?
uppers and downers \ 23 feb 18 /
first, you learn to hurry. then, to hang around a bit.


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In the event that simply like me, you have essentially ever thought what is controlling the chronicle computer game site machines you make utilization of and also unequivocally how they truly work you can reveal this instructive make up exceptionally intriguing. In this specific first part post I will without a doubt tell you how movement server web facilitating administration occurred and also absolutely what it basic to get the online video cut video gaming whole world running. Dedicated action have facilitating is the manner by which everything began for on the net video gaming as back when the starter online players began the most ideal approach to participate in over the web was by web facilitating their diversion titles without anyone else gadgets a typical living arrangement Laptop or PC.
The presentation of computer game hosts:
In the presentation of on the net video gaming players needed to initiate endeavoring to discover better answers for their web server quandaries, this is for the most part because of the way that LAN occasions, Leagues and also video cut video gaming squads started to make, these electronic PC video gaming groups given competitors comprehensively. Quicker and a lot more reliable web facilitating arrangements have been searched out to supply more power and in addition less demanding computer game appreciate. The general amusement keeping medicines were required to offer them real by and large execution with low ping (inertness return) in several nanoseconds as an elective after that the 100s or hundreds that workstation or PC exhibited. This was a gigantic require because of measurement that on the web PC diversion online servers may be work at (members of around 20).
Presently the amount of gamers that could join a person on the web based amusement facilitating server has extremely expanded to 30, 40 notwithstanding 60, these sums keep on being extending to this specific working day and what's more likely than not will stay to achieve this for quite a long time ahead of time as a result of the contemplations of on the web computer game imaginative originators. Utilizing an towny minecraft expert server was the conspicuous fix. These minecraft towny servers has had been planned particularly to investigate your information alongside sending a great deal from it quicker to the gamers to play without having harm in productivity.


text: PegaWorld 2018 replays Geared towards different industries, products, and a host of hot topics, PegaWorld 2018 has something for everyone. Check out this year's session replays below. Showing 8 result(s) for Platform, and Tuesday, June 5. (Clear filters) Search Apply Show search filters Filter Sessions Days Monday, June 4 (17) Tuesday, June 5 (8) Session Type Customer Case Study (3) Product Spotlight (2) Spark Talk (2) Customer How To (1) Topics Agile (4) Pega Platform (4) Application Development (3) Customer Experience (2) Artificial Intelligence (1) Cloud (1) Mobile (1) Operational Excellence (1) Robotic Automation (1) UX & Design (1) Industry Cross-Industry (4) Financial Services (2) Communications Service Providers (1) Insurance (1) Product Customer Service (8) All Products (7) Marketing (7) Robotic Automation (5) Customer Decision Hub (4) Sales Automation (2) Onboarding (1) Operations (1) Platform (8) Cancel Close search filters Customer Case StudyTokio Marine HCC - Successfully Driving Legacy Insurance into the 21st Century Tokio Marine HCC is transforming their organization using Pega's applications to... Download this presentation Customer Case StudyBanco Santander Brasil Super Charges Business Value, Fast Banco Santander Brasil eliminated manual work, broke down internal silos, and... Download this presentation Customer Case StudyVodafone: Future Empowered in 120 Days Vodafone IT was facing increasing pressure to deliver new solution capabilities... Download this presentation Customer How ToDLL Finance Implements Scrum/Agile Methods to Maximize Customer Satisfaction Organizations are still slow to adopt Agile/Scrum practices even though these... Download this presentation Spark TalkManaging mobile implementations for maximum engagement and ROI Managing successful mobile app deployments is an ongoing challenge and a... Download this presentation Spark TalkIntelligent Automation: Hype vs. Reality "Intelligent Automation" is one of the trending buzzwords for enterprises... Download this presentation Product SpotlightLow-Code Innovation: Build Enterprise Apps Fast Deliver the enterprise-grade software you want at the speed your customers... Download this presentation Product SpotlightIntroducing Pega Catalyst: Embrace Digital Transformation Through Design Thinking Pega's new Catalyst Program uses Design Thinking methodologies to help... Download this presentation


text:
Overall length of rail tracks in Denmark: 2560 km
Types of trains in Denmark: regular & high-speed
Number of Denish routes sold on Rail.Ninja: 8
Fastest train speed of Denmark trains: 220 km/h
Taking the Danish railways is a great opportunity to travel in this outstanding Scandinavian country and extend your travel with connections to its neighboring countries like Sweden or Germany. The major Denmark train station is located in the very heart of Copenhagen. Also called the Kobenhavn H, this station is easily reached by public transport, making train travel in Denmark very convenient.
Popular Denmark Trains
High-speed SJ Train
Those planning to take a train to Denmark from Sweden or Norway (or vice versa) should definitely consider taking a high-speed SJ train. These modern bullet trains offer great amenities for comfortable travel and link Copenhagen with Gothenburg, Stockholm, and Oslo.
High-speed EuroCity Train
Another popular train on the Denmark railway is EuroCity. This fast bullet train, run by German Deutsche Bahn, is great for traveling between Copenhagen and Berlin or Hamburg. There are several travel classes and numerous daily departures to select from.
Map of Popular Denmark Train Routes
Popular International Denmark train routes
Tips on Denmark Train Travel
How large is Denmark's rail transport network?
The railway Denmark has isn't as large and extensive as that of its neighboring countries. Nevertheless, the modern and fast trains, running in the network are safe, on schedule, and convenient.
Train types in Denmark
The Danish train system boasts both regular and high-speed trains. If you're planning long-haul rail travel, then you may choose to go on a bullet train, SJ or EuroCity, for example. Regional trains are generally provided for shorter distances.
Do I need to make seat reservations on Danish trains?
When it comes to booking Danish train tickets, a seat will be assigned for you after you book tickets for your train. Rail.Ninja provides the opportunity to book rail tickets for dates upto two years ahead.
Is there a train station at Copenhagen Airport?
The main airport in Copenhagen, also called Kastrup, is set about 8 kilometers (about 5 miles) from the heart of the city. One of the easiest ways to travel to and from the airport station to the city center is on trains which are available every 10 minutes, the duration of such a trip takes approximately 20 minutes.
Denmark Train Review
Traveled on train from Gothenburg to Copenhagen this summer, great experience and views.
Courtney F. about traveling on train in Denmark


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Report The Forrester Wave™: AI Consultancies In Asia Pacific, Q3 2019
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...researched, analyzed, and scored them. This report shows how each provider measures up and helps enterprise architecture professionals select the right one for their needs.
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Living in New York, I'm a frequent Uber rider. I probably depend on it too much.
For about two years now, SPG and Uber have had a partnership through which you can earn Starpoints by taking Uber rides. The earning rate isn't as good at it used to be, but SPG members can still earn 1 Starpoint per every US $2 spent with Uber, or 2 Starpoints per every US $1 spent with Uber during a stay at an SPG property.
I haven't had an SPG stay since August, but I do ride Uber a ton. Recently, I'd noticed that my SPG points balance hadn't changed in a while. So I checked it, and noticed that I hadn't received any Starpoints at all in over a month:
I just got off the phone with SPG Customer Service, who told me that for some population of SPG members, there has been a known issue with receiving Starpoints from Uber rides ever since September. As far as I'm aware, there has been no communication from SPG about this, and they're relying on members who check their accounts to bring the issue to their attention.
So go check your Starpoint balances, especially if you use Uber frequently!