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Krav Maga
"Joy through strength" - Arnold Schwartzenegger
Nothing will make a girl feel more powerful than learning how to defend herself, and here's hoping that she never has to use it. But she'll walk with a swagger, she'll ooze self-confidence and she'll learn young the benefits of having a healthy, fit body.
Krav Maga is an Israeli self-defense program, which will teach young girls very specific ways to defend themselves. Programs are available all over the country - you can get more information by clicking on to this site -
Krav Maga for Children
A blog dedicated to empowering and inspiring young girls through literature and writing.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Tell Me a Story
Tell Me a Story
"There is no tragedy that you cannot bear, if you put it into a book."
The ability to tell a story does more than entertain a reader. For the writer it leads to greater understanding, to a sense of hope, a sense of relief, a way to work out insurmountable difficulties. It's a way of communicating - with others and with yourself.
Finding a notebook and then using this beautiful 24 karat gold plated fountain pen by orly37 will give you an added incentive to write your story
Rose Colored Foutain Pen
Afghan Women's Writing Project believes that "to tell one's story is a human right" - please consider making a donation to bring their voices to the world through their writing.
Join the Freedom to Tell Your Story
Afghan Women Playing Basketball
Saturday, July 23, 2011
"We are all angels with one wing and we can only fly by holding on to one another."
Doing something for someone who will never be able to repay you is a great way to increase your self-confidence and your self-worth. There's an old Chinese saying that "no one's head hurts when he is comforting another" - the internet is a great place to start - googling an organization who is just dying for your expertise - and everyone has something to offer.
For instance - Hope for Haiti is an organization that provides many opportunities to help the Haitian people out of poverty and into productive, useful, hopeful lives -
Hope for Haiti
And if you want to remember what's it like to be an angel, you might want to wear this pendant by rzaleski654 -
Angel Pendant
Thursday, July 21, 2011
"Focus on where you're going - not what you fear." Anthony Robbins
The ability to focus on your desired outcome - the ability to put all other thoughts out of your mind - to keep on your chosen course, regardless of what is happening around you is key to success.
And like everything else, it just needs practice.
I have my students sit in a yoga position for one minute - each month adding another minute. By the end of the school year, they can sit quietly for ten minutes. (The incentive is a Hershey Kiss for every minute that they are quiet).
They learn to focus and more importantly, they learn that when they want to, when the stakes are high enough, they can focus.Without focus, one will only flip flop around,dabbling in this and that, and accomplishing very little. And like everything else, the ability to focus is like a muscle, which must frequently be flexed in order to develop.
This vinyl wall decal from Wordy Bird Studios will remind you just how important it is to keep your eye on the price -
Vinyl Wall Decal
"Focus on where you're going - not what you fear." Anthony Robbins
The ability to focus on your desired outcome - the ability to put all other thoughts out of your mind - to keep on your chosen course, regardless of what is happening around you is key to success.
And like everything else, it just needs practice.
I have my students sit in a yoga position for one minute - each month adding another minute. By the end of the school year, they can sit quietly for ten minutes. (The incentive is a Hershey Kiss for every minute that they are quiet).
They learn to focus and more importantly, they learn that when they want to, when the stakes are high enough, they can focus.Without focus, one will only flip flop around,dabbling in this and that, and accomplishing very little. And like everything else, the ability to focus is like a muscle, which must frequently be flexed in order to develop.
This vinyl wall decal from Wordy Bird Studios will remind you just how important it is to keep your eye on the price -
Vinyl Wall Decal
Friday, July 15, 2011
Nothing Is Impossible
Laila Ali
"Impossible isn't a fact - it's an opinion." Laila Ali
You can do anything you want to do but what is difficult is knowing what you want to do. What is your passion? If you knew you couldn't fail, what would you choose to do? What do you do when no one is watching? When are you happiest? When do you completely lose yourself in an activity? You don't think you could make a living doing this - then remember - there is always a market for the very best.
Wearing this pendant by Charms Maker will remind you -
The Sky Is The Limit
And now for Chapter Four For of For Such The Angels Go.
Chapter 4
Jean climbed into the car and slid into the front seat. She glanced at the man, who had turned his attention to the steering wheel. He was younger than Jean had first thought, maybe only in his early twenties. His ragged sweat shirt was stained and there was a wide rip in his jeans around the crouch. Jean averted her eyes and then noticed that he wasn't wearing shoes.
The car was thick with an unpleasant odor. A combination of sweat (the man's, or maybe her own) and tobacco and something else. Something similar to the smell that had permeated her aunt's hut. But she was dry and safe and in no condition to complain.
"You're bleeding on my floor," the man said, as though Jean could help it. As though she was in a position to bandage herself. She lifted her right foot and wrapped it around her left calf, still holding her blood stained sneaker in her hand.
"I'm going to Hawa," he said, "actually I'm going through it. Straight through for about fifty kilometers. I'll drop you off in the center of town. But I got to make a stop first. You don't mind, do you?"
Jean shook her head. "Thank you, sir. And I'll pray for you."
The man seemed to think her remark was comical and he snickered. "You a Muslim?" he asked.
"Catholic, sir."
"I don't believe in God," the man said in a hard, bitter voice. "If he's alive and well, he's nasty and he don't give a damn about us."
Jean's first impulse was to argue. If one didn't believe in God, then one had nothing. Nothing to wish for, nothing that made any sense. But she kept her lips pressed together.
"Nope, God ain't been good to me but than again, I ain't been good to God." The man gripped the steering wheel with grubby hands. "I ain't been good to many people neither."
"But you're helping me now."
The man shrugged. "Ain't costing me nothing. Anyway, I appreciate the company. After I drop off the parcel." He turned around and glanced at the back seat.
Jean's eyes followed him. For the first time she noticed a thermos resting on the spilt cushion, wrapped in a filthy tee-shirt. Jean's throat was dry and parched. She wondered what was in the thermos and, if it were water, whether the man would give her a sip.
The man must have noticed her staring because he asked if she were thirsty.
She nodded.
"And hungry too, I bet?"
She nodded again.
"Can't help you."
Jean said nothing.
"Maybe your uncle will give you something when you get there. The truth is I'm hungry and thirsty too. But that thermos is full of mud. And besides, it don't belong to me. Gotta give it to the big man."
Suddenly the car swerved and headed for a dirt path. Jean released a gasp of surprise as she slumped forward. Maybe this man was right when he claimed that he wasn't so nice after all. Maybe he had his own plans for her. Maybe he was going to kill her and leave her body in the woods.
And who would even miss her?
"Don't look so scared. I told you I had to make a stop, didn't I?"
Jean wanted to know who he was visiting and how long they'd be stuck in the woods. But she didn't think it was a good idea to ask too many questions. In fact, she thought the less she talked, the better off she'd be.
The car stopped with a sudden jerk, throwing Jean back in the seat. She was feeling nauseous from the heat and humidity, wishing that she had something, anything to drink. Even muddy water.
"You wait right here, you understand. Don't go anywhere."
She nodded. She doubted that she could walk even if she wanted to.
"What's your name?" he asked suddenly.
She thought it strange that now he wanted to know who she was but she mumbled, "Jean," hoping he wasn't going to ask her last name.
"I'm Peter. I'll be back in a few minutes."
He slammed the door of the car and walked towards a run down shack which looked deserted from the outside. What if he plans to take me in there, Jean thought, and torture and kill me?
She began to pray, asking Jesus to forgive her, although she still wasn't sure what she had done.
And then she heard voices. Angry voices. She scooted over to the driver's seat to listen.
"Where's the merchandise?" Somebody was asking and not the guy in the car because this voice was different, deeper, raspier.
"No merchandise until I get the cash," Peter said.
"You don't get it, do you?" a woman insisted. "You owe us money. The last delivery didn't come in as planned. You didn't give us everything we paid for."
"Yeah, that's what you say. But why should I believe you? When all is said and done, you're just a bunch of thieves."
There was a long strained silence.
"Where is it?" the man bellowed.
"Not until I see my money."
Jean had a really bad feeling about all of this. She thought that Peter would be back in the car in no time flat. Only he wouldn't be in a good mood. And maybe he wouldn't be going to Hawa anymore. Maybe this was the last stop for her. Where would she go in the middle of the woods with a bleeding foot?
But Peter wasn't coming back to the car at all. Because several seconds later, Jean heard a loud explosion which she recognized as gun shots. She had heard enough gun shots when the rebels came marching through her town so she knew now that something terrible had happened.
But Peter wasn't coming back to the car at all. Because several seconds later, Jean heard a loud explosion which she recognized as gun shots. She had heard enough gun shots when the rebels came marching through her town so she knew now that something terrible had happened.
And that it wasn't safe to stay in the car any longer.
But this time, she wasn't going without water. In a flash she turned around and grabbed the thermos and the dirty tee-shirt to wrap around her foot. She opened the front door, quietly closed it and hobbled to the nearby wooded area. She couldn't put any pressure on her injured foot but she managed to go a few feet into the forest. Then she collapsed, hiding under some scrubby brushes.
At least the rain had stopped although the ground was soaking wet.
In a few minutes, she heard the front door slam.
"If he didn't have them on him, then they have to be in the car. He was planning to give them to us, as soon as we gave him the money."
"My guess is the trunk," the woman said.
Although Jean couldn't see them she knew that they were close, too close. Jean could almost smell the woman's musky perfume. She wanted to get up, to crawl out of her hiding place because surely that would be the sensible thing to do. But if she made a sound, if she moved a muscle, she'd be as dead as poor Peter.
She could hear them pop open the truck and they were moving some heavy objects. And then the woman cursed under her breath. "Not here," she finally said.
"Hey, look at this," the man was calling the woman. "Fresh blood."
Jean's blood.
"What happened here?" The woman didn't seem concerned, just deeply suspicious. "Could he have knocked someone off?"
"Where's the body?" the man asked.
"Where's the merchandise?" the woman wondered.
"I'll tell you where the merchandise is," the man said with a great deal of authority, as though he knew for certain. "It's with the person who was bleeding. There was a fight and he took off with it. Is he dead?"
"I shot him at random. I don't know."
"Well, this is what we're going to do," the man said. "We're going to go inside and hope that he's still alive. Then we're going to make that man talk. We're going to find out what happened in his car. Who he was with and where that person is now. No one does this to me and lives to tell about it. Move!" he bellowed and for one horrible second, Jean thought he was talking to her. "I don't have to tell you what's going to happen to us if we don't get the merchandise to the border by tomorrow. We don't have anytime to waste."
Except it was Jean who had no time to waste. She didn't know what they were talking about. She didn't have any merchandise but they'd never believe that. As with Peter, they would shoot her first and ask questions later. She had to move and fast.
She tore a piece of the dirty, ragged tee-shirt. She wrapped it around her foot, and slipped her foot back into her sneaker. The pain was excoriating. She drew a deep breath, wiped the perspiration off her face and then grabbed the thermos. She could tell by the weight of the bottle that it was full. And then as fast as she could, she stumbled deep into the woods.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Here and Now
Scarlett O'Hara
"If I think about it today, I'll go crazy. I'll think about it tomorrow instead. Tomorrow is another day." Scarlett O'Hara
Strong, powerful women learn to learn to live in the present. They know that if it's not happening now, it's not happening and they'd learn that they should leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's strength. It doesn't do much good to worry too much about the future because when the problem occurs, you may have options that you don't have now.
And so when you're worried and fretful, it might help to think of Scarlett O'Hara by wearing this stunning necklace by Tuckoo and Moo Cow -
Scarlett O'Hara Necklace
And now for Chapter 3 For Such The Angels Go
"If I think about it today, I'll go crazy. I'll think about it tomorrow instead. Tomorrow is another day." Scarlett O'Hara
Strong, powerful women learn to learn to live in the present. They know that if it's not happening now, it's not happening and they'd learn that they should leave tomorrow's problems to tomorrow's strength. It doesn't do much good to worry too much about the future because when the problem occurs, you may have options that you don't have now.
And so when you're worried and fretful, it might help to think of Scarlett O'Hara by wearing this stunning necklace by Tuckoo and Moo Cow -
Scarlett O'Hara Necklace
And now for Chapter 3 For Such The Angels Go
Chapter 3
Joseph was true to his word and brought Jean some beans, fresh corn and a small bucket of water. He even managed to give her a threadbare sheet and a blanket, which he suggested that she roll up and use for a pillow. Jean didn't hide her gratitude.
"You're very nice," she told him. "Why are you doing all this?"
"I believe that children are everyone's responsibility," he said. "And I'm appalled by what is going on in some of the cities. Men convincing uneducated people that witches are responsible for everything from war to AIDS, to dying crops, to sickness, to just bad luck. It doesn't occur to these people that after tormenting children, things don't get any better. But the mob, it is a terrible thing." He cleared his throat and then said in a discouraged tone, "I can't fight it alone."
"As soon as it's light, I'll leave," Jean promised. "This refuge is forty-two kilometers in what direction?"
Jean had only gone to school until she was eight. Then her mother lost her job as a bathroom attendant in one of the hotels and she couldn't afford the cost of the uniform and the books. Jean had no idea where southwest was.
"I could point it out to you," Joseph said, "but it will be meaningless."
"I don't want to ask. People might know who Sister Mary Jude is. Then they'll guess that I'm a witch child."
"You are not a witch child!"
Jean nodded. "I am not a witch child," she repeated solemnly. "But still they might turn me in."
"They might. I don't think the government will look for you very hard and very long, though. They are too many other children to chase after. But you're right, someone might believe that there's a reward on your head and, for a few measly francs, they might bring you back to the city. Or," Joseph hesitated, "they might decide to take matters into their own hands. So, you're right, it wouldn't be a good thing to let people know where you're headed. Tell them you're going to the small village of Hawa to find your uncle, who is expecting you."
Jean nodded as Joseph rose.
"I'll never forget you," Jean promised.
Joseph smiled with those big, white teeth again. "Someday," he said, "when you're in America, you'll do a kindness for someone there. And, like a little miracle, hope will spread." He gave her a brief wave and then disappeared into the night.
Jean drank a bit of water, then tucked the pail in the corner. She'd leave most of it for the morning. If tomorrow was another hot day, she'd need to hydrate herself before continuing. Twenty-six kilometers, she thought. If there are people who can run it in a few hours, perhaps I can do it by afternoon. At least by nightfall. Even walking, I could do it in a day. My legs are strong and I'm young.
She lay down on the cool white sheet and crunched the blanket into a small pillow. She had never known her father and it was difficult to conjure up a picture of him. But after meeting Joseph, she knew exactly what her father looked like. He would be tall, with kind eyes, and very white teeth.
Maybe Joseph was her father and he suspected it and that's why he had been so nice to Jean. Maybe when she was settled, had some money and she was a famous athlete, she'd come back and repay him for the francs. Then he would tell her with pride in his voice that she was his own child.
With these thoughts whirling in her mind, she fell into a restless sleep.
She never saw the eyes staring at her from the distance, watching and waiting.
Jean woke up to the sound of a soft roar. At first she thought it was part of a dream. Her mother and her baby brother were still alive but they had joined the mob chanting, "Come see the witch child, come see the witch child," as they threw sticks and stones at her.
Upon waking Jean was slightly relieved to find herself alone in the abandoned shack. But when she turned her head towards the entrance, she froze with fear.
A lion stood stationary just a few feet away. As the lion glared at her with enormous black eyes, Jean was convinced that the animal was Satan in disguise and somehow her tormentors had sent him.
I'm never going to get out of this alive, she thought. One way or the other, they will find me and destroy me. Is it better to be devoured by a lion or be burnt alive or be beaten to death?
Jean remained motionless.
So did the lion.
Jean's mother had taught her that there was no need to fear lions because lion mothers teach their young how to hunt and what to eat. Human beings are not on their menu. Lions only attack if they feel threatened, she said.
But lions are wild animals, Jean reasoned, and wild animals are unpredictable.
The lion watched Jean, blocking her path to safety.
If Jean started to scream, would Joseph hear her? Would he come for her?
Or would she just scare the lion into attacking?
Her mother had also taught Jean that everyone had a guardian angel, who stood behind her and made certain that no harm came to the child. Jean had even named her guardian angel, Michael, because that seemed like a good strong name. Where was Michael now?
The lion moved closer.
But he was not heading towards Jean. Instead his eyes fell on the bucket of water. With quick and steady footsteps, the lion made his way to the corner. Then he bent down and began to drink, making loud slurping sounds.
It's now or never, Jean thought, as she sprang up and tiptoed out of the hut. And then she ran. She ran about a quarter of a mile down the long, dusty road before she drew a deep breath and found the courage to turn around. The lion had not followed her.
She was safe but she had left her water. The day was already sticky with humidity, although the sky was murky and overcast. In one way that was good, it meant that the sun would not be beating down on her head. But if it should rain –
So it rains, Jean thought, marathoners run in the rain all the time. The rain can't hurt me. In fact it might bring some cool air.
She would run slowly at first, so not to exhaust herself. She could pick up speed towards the end, especially if night was approaching. When she came to a village, she would ask directions.
She hoped that people would be generous and good.
And somewhere in the distance, she prayed that her aunt and her mother were looking down from above, guiding her every step.
In about an hour it started to pour. Big, fat drops fell on Jean soaking her to the bone. She ran anyway, trying to keep an even pace. As she ran, she pictured herself sprinting in a marathon, with people clapping hard on either side of her, and a car, riding with a camera in front of her, filming her every move.
She had seen a photograph like that once in a newspaper and it was a vision that she clung to. So she wasn't minding the run at all, even in the blinding rain.
She passed a pack of wild dogs, who lunged at her, growling and nipping at her heels. She outran them.
She was doing fine until she stepped on something hard and sharp. An acute pain ripped through her right foot.
She stopped and stumbled over to the side of the road. Panting, she sank in the mud and turned over her right sneaker. A sharp piece of glass was embedded in the hole of her shoe, piercing the sole of her foot. The gash was about two inches wide. Jean had no recourse but to take off her sneaker and yank the glass out of her skin.
Jean had always been a bit squeamish and she hated the sight of blood, especially her own. But she could not walk, let alone run with the jagged piece of glass thrust into her flesh.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and pulled. The pain was sharp and swift. And the blood came flowing out.
Jean had to find a way to stop it. She was wearing a dirty pair of shorts and a tee shirt. She had no underwear on, so taking her shirt off wasn't an option. She looked around in the field to see if she could find even a piece of paper to hold against her skin. But it was raining so hard, it was difficult to see anything.
There had been a doctor in Kinshasa, although Jean had never gone to him. But she knew when wounds penetrated deeply they often had to be sewed. She could not sew her own wound and she couldn't go back to the Kinshasa, even if she wanted to.
Could she bleed to death from a cut in her foot?
She pressed two fingers over her wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. A crackle of lightening lit up the sky. Jean had heard that being in the middle of a field during a thunderstorm was dangerous. You were likely to be struck by lightening, electrocuted from the air.
Funny she was afraid that would have been her punishment if she had stayed in the city. It might happen anyway. God might be sending the storm as she lay bleeding to death in the middle of no where.
Jean tried to remember her childhood prayers, especially the Act of Contrition, but the words escaped her. Something about being heartily sorry for her sins. The problem was that Jean wasn't quite sure what her sins were. And hadn't she already paid her penance?
A deafening roar of thunder, followed by another crackle of lightening. Then Jean heard another sound, the sound of a car coming down the road. She crawled to the edge and waited. Soon a black sedan crawled into sight. She couldn't see the driver but it didn't matter. She popped up and made a weak attempt to jump and wave.
A crushing pain seared through her. She began to hop.
The car slowed down. An older man with a brown beard and a head full of chocolate colored tufts stuck his face out the window.
"Please, sir, can you help me? I need to get home and I'm injured." She tried to show him her bleeding foot but she couldn't raise it that high.
"Where you headed?"
"To Hawa. I have an uncle there."
"What's his name?"
Jean was not prepared for this question so she hesitated. The pause raised suspicions in the man's bloodshot eyes. Even with the whipping rain, Jean could see him squinting.
"Adam," she said quickly.
"Adam who?"
She was tempted to answer that she didn't know his last name but surely that would not sound right. If he were indeed her uncle, than she would know. "Nkanka," she said quickly, the first common name she could think of.
The problem was that it was the same last name of the pastor who was trying to persecute her. But what did it matter? If she didn't get out of the field, she would die before her tormentors ever had a chance to locate her.
The driver nodded and opened the door. Then he looked down at her right foot and released a low whistle.
"I stepped on a piece of glass," she explained and, at least, that was the truth.
"Look like you're going to need a couple of stitches. Otherwise, you may have trouble walking. You don't want to have a limp for your whole life, do you?"
Jean shook her head. How could she be a marathon runner with a limp? How could she get stitches? Would Sister Mary Jude help her? With a ride Jean would be at the refuge within the hour. Suddenly her heart tingled with hope.
"Well, get in. I don't have all day."
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Wizard of Oz
"You have always had the power, my dear, you have always had the power." Wizard of Oz
One of the most powerful female figures in literature is Dagney Taggart - the heroine of Atlas Shrug. Dagny is a business woman who manages to stand up to the shark of the railroad industry.
Dagney from the movie Atlas Shrug
Her brains and her self-confidence make her formidable and wearing this shirt is a reminder -
Atlas Shrugged Tee Shirt
A very worthwhile charity is HTAC, the initials which stands for Help the Afghan Children. This organization builds school and its mission is educating the young citizens. I would love to start a writing program to empower girls in a newly built school -]
Girls School in Afghanistan
And now for Chapter Two of For Such the Angels Go.
Chapter 2
Jean bent down, shook out her quivering legs, wiggled her toes and walked to the round thatched roof house. She paused before entering and called her aunt's name.
There was no answer.
She stepped into the small structure. Her hopes sank when she climbed over scattered clothes on the dirt floor and saw some hardened yams piled in the center of the room. She almost slid on spilled porridge. A thin sheet, stained and crusted, rested on top of a sagging mattress, crammed in the corner. Jean collapsed on the dirt beside a pile of rags, her heart still hammering in her chest.
The hut was a mess and that was the first clue that something was wrong. Jean's Aunt Therese had always been neat and as clean as she could possibly manage. But it wasn't the disarray which bothered Jean. It was the smell.
The smell of death. And Jean knew all about that.
"What are you doing here?" A woman, who couldn't be more than twenty but whose eyes were old and defeated and whose mouth was set in an eternal frown, stood at the door, waving a stick at Jean. A young boy clung to the woman's leg and buried his face in her ripped skirt.
"My name is Jean Mantuidi. I'm looking for my aunt. Her name is Therese Mantuidi. She lives here." Jean was still panting. "Maybe she went to fetch water -"
"She's dead. She died of the virus on Tuesday. I'm sorry." The woman shrugged her shoulders, not looking the least bit empathetic.
Jean wondered why she should be surprised, when the virus had taken her mother and her grandmother. But Jean was shocked and saddened and found herself crying uncontrollably.
"Did she suffer?" Jean asked between her sobs, because she could not rid herself of the vision of her mother, a mere skeleton, covered with sores, crying in pain, and begging the Blessed Virgin to take her –
The woman shrugged again and then asked in a totally disinterested tone of voice, "Are you sick too?"
Jean shook her head.
"Why are you breathing so hard and heavy then?"
"I'm running away," Jean said.
The woman took a step backward, almost as though Jean were infected with a disease that could spread in the air. "Are you a thief?"
Again Jean shook her head.
"What then?"
The little boy had started to wail. A soft mewl like a cat in pain.
"I didn't do it." Jean sprang up.
The woman looked at Jean, her eyes squinting with suspicion.
"I was working for this family," Jean said, "washing the clothes and cooking the porridge and caring for the baby and the mother, she got sick. Something happened to her heart."
"Did you give her food?"
"No." Jean would have smiled at the absurdity of it. Her giving the mistress food? She would have smiled. If she didn't know where the question was leading.
"I took chocolate from a stranger," Jean lowered her eyes. "This American, she came into our village, she bought candy -"
The woman let out a shriek, which startled the small boy, who began to wail.
"But I didn't know that the candy had a spell on it. I didn't know!" Jean was weeping too, she and the boy together, but the boy had his mother to hide behind, while Jean had – no one.
The woman stepped back again, only this time she had moved so far away, outside the house. Now Jean could not see her. But she could plainly hear the woman screaming, "Witch Child! Witch Child!"
"I am not a witch child!" Jean insisted, only she wasn't sure if she were a witch child or not. Would she know if she were a witch child? Would she know if she had caused the mistress's death just by entering the house? Had she somehow killed her aunt also because her wickedness had blown like a warm breeze through the Congo?
If Jean could make people sick could she make them well?
Could she be a good witch child?
Then Jean heard another voice, the voice of a man. "What's the problem?" he demanded from outside and then he stepped into the hut.
Suddenly the hut seemed smaller and Jean wanted to run away from this enormous man, who looked like a giant. She had never seen anyone quite so tall. In a country where people were stick thin, this man had flesh on his body. He could scoop her up with his long, lanky arms and bring her back to the city to face the angry mob, who by now would realize that Jean was missing.
"She's a witch child, Jospeh," the woman said. "She's Therese's niece and they're looking for her. She ran away to bring her evil here."
The man approached her and Jean shrank back.
"We can't help her," the woman said. "She'll cast a spell on us. We'll get sick and starve. She'll turn our little boy into a witch child and they'll come for him."
Jean looked into Joseph's eyes and found to her astonishment that they were full of compassion.
He turned his back to Jean. "Go home!" he shouted to the woman.
"We can't keep her, Joseph! She will destroy us!"
"Go home!" he bellowed.
Jean hid her wet face in her hands. She was exhausted and confused. She wondered if this man was another devil, trying to tempt her. Maybe he was working for the village. Maybe he would have his own way of ridding evil spirits from Jean.
A fight had broken out in a French dialect that Jean didn't understand. She wished that she could sneak by the man and the woman and the terrified child (although it was unclear to her what the boy had to be frightened of, except of course, Jean) and keep on running. Except where would she go now?
The man must have won the argument because the woman stepped into the hut, glared at Jean, hoisted the little boy into her arms, and hurried away.
"You have to forgive my wife," the man spoke softly. "She doesn't mean you any harm."
"I suppose she's scared," Jean said, "because she thinks I'm a witch child. I don't remember becoming a witch child." Jean sniffled. "Wouldn't I remember something like that? Although once I had this bad dream about Lucifer. Do you think that's when he came to me?"
"I am a Roman Catholic," the man said. "We do not believe in witches."
Jean was Catholic also. At least that's what her mother had always told her, although Jean wasn't sure what it meant to be a Catholic. She had never been inside of a church, nor had she ever been blessed by a Catholic priest. But she knew some prayers and her mother had told her stories about Jesus and how he loved children and all about saints who had suffered and died horrible and bloody deaths.
Had a saint sent this kind man?
"I can't keep you here," he said simply. "My wife, she wouldn't allow it. She's superstitious and she talks. She will tell one neighbor, who will tell another. Someone from the city will come for you."
Jean rose, feeling rather unsteady. She was so thirsty she found it difficult to speak. She wondered if the man would give her some water.
"Do you have someplace else to go?" he asked
Jean wiped her tears with the back of her hand and wished that she had a rag so she could blow her nose.
"Your father?"
"I never met him. My mother said that he made a lot of babies and he couldn't care for them all. They call me a cibalabala. I can't go back there," Jean whispered. "Please don't send me back there. They'll kill me. I saw once," Jean gulped, "a little boy who limped. Mama said that he was born that way, but just because he was different they thought the devil got to him. They threw stones at him until he died. He was only six."
"I said I don't believe in witches," the man said. "That's true. But I do believe in evil. And those people, they're bad. They're evil and they're stupid, which is a dangerous combination." He shook his head. "I won't send you back."
"But where will I go?" It was beginning to get dark and Jean had never been alone in the dark. In the city there were other street children to bond with, street children living in the central market, the post office or the railway station. Here she was in the middle of the woods. Jean didn't like the forest. All kinds of unspeakable things could happen in the woods.
"There's a refuge for children like yourself, children accused of sorcery. Sister Mary Jude runs it. She'll take care of you, at least temporarily."
A glimmer of hope flashed through her. No one had taken care of Jean since her mother died.
And that was months ago.
"Will I be able to go to school?" she asked. "Will I get a uniform and books and some paper and pens?"
The man gave a half-hearted shrug. "You'll be safe," he said simply. "That's all I can promise. But -"
It was the but that made Jean's stomach leap. "But?" She swallowed hard, her throat dry and sore.
"But the refuge is far away. And I don't know how you can get there, except by foot. It will take a few days, and you'll have to go through the woods. If you stay on the main roads, you'll run into road blocks. And while the soldiers aren't looking for you," the man paused, "sometimes it doesn't matter who they're looking for."
"How far is this refuge?"
"About forty-two kilometers."
"Forty-two kilometers?" Jean repeated. "That's not far at all. That's less than a marathon."
The man smiled and Jean noticed that he had perfect teeth, so white, they were dazzling. Most people in her country had lost them from malnutrition or chewing on hard, inedible food.
"There are Africans who can run a marathon in less than four hours. Did you know that?" Jean questioned proudly.
"I've heard of such things," the man said.
"In America."
The man drew a deep breath. "In America things are different. There is enough food and the runners wear shoes," he looked down at her dirty, ripped sneakers, not even noticing the whole in the bottom of the right foot, "and they are not escaping wild animals and superstitious people. Everyone has water and water is free, in stores and in the streets. They don't have to worry about land mines." He shook his shaven head sadly. "This is not America."
"But someday I'm going to go there," Jean said.
"Maybe. But right now, we have to get you to the refuge." The man walked to the front of the hut and gazed into the fading light. He turned around. "You can't go in the dark, that's for sure. There is an abandoned shack about a half mile up the road. You can spend the night there. But you have to be gone by daylight. If my wife should find out, I'm helping you -"
"I'll leave. I promise."
The man nodded. "Go now and later on when things are quiet, I'll come and bring you some food and some water." He dug into his pocket and took out five francs. "Here, take it."
Jean shook her head. "I can't accept money from a stranger."
"Don't be silly. It might buy your freedom." He put the coin into Jean's sweaty hands. Then he walked to the door of the hut and pointed the direction to Jean.
She left the hut, thankful that the night air bought with it a little coolness.
Only forty-two kilometers, she thought, I can do that. But Joseph who had been good and kind was not optimistic.
Devil or no devil, Jean thought as she walked slowly toward the deserted shack, I'm going to survive.
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text:
Today I didn't get round to dressing up, but I was rocking a crew-neck t-shirt, which isn't that odd except that I'm so accustomed to the v-neck in the last few years that I actually feel a touch out of sorts in a crew-neck. Like my neck is confined or something stupid like that. Of course strangers don't know that I nearly exclusively wear v-necks (no, seriously, I cut my crew-necks into v-necks a lot of the time), so as usual, all in the brain. The moral of the story is that there's very little story here.
Smoking line, the cut-off line for cigarettes, so you can't. smoke. here. Each morning I walk by the Merchandise Mart and I'm fascinated by the smoking line that is painted onto the sidewalk. Fascinated because it exists, but also fascinated because it is obeyed. The idea is that the entryway is not flooded with smoke, and it's a nice concept, but given the wind in Chicago, the efficacy of the smoking line is questionable. That, and it's also really intriguing to me to see an arbitrarily painted line observed, one that adheres to the 15 foot rule. Why fifteen feet? Why not.
As you can see, I'm not too into linking the disparate parts of this post to one another. What I am into, is wondering if Skidz brand clothing will return. Peep these shots below. Those aren't costumes, those are fashion!
|Merry go round indeed! They're not skidding! Or are they?
|This girl right here!
Happy Halloween folks.

subset: commoncrawl


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This film by Klara Harden, found via Got A Girl Crush, documents her 25 day solo trek through Iceland and brought back such wonderful memories of when I visited in 2007.
MADE IN ICELAND from Klara Harden on Vimeo
An amazing achievement and so beautifully captured.
I only had a couple of chances to leave the capital Rekjavik to see some of the amazing Icelandic landscape - it really is like you're on another planet.
|Rekjavic by night
Despite spending most of my time exploring the city the few glimpses of nature I did get have stayed with me since. Particularly the other-wordly colours - the vivid blue of the glacial waters, acid greens & yellows of the vegetation and the black volcanic earth. This film has definitely reminded me how much I would like to go back - this time in the summer, I visited in February - and see more.


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Those of you regular readers know that I attended the "Maps, Finding our Place in the World" exhibition that came to Chicago and then to Baltimore last year. I bought the companion book from this exhibit and have been slowly reading it.
This map (from William T. Stead, "If Christ Came to Chicago!", 1894) shows the "sites of moral depravity and turpitude" within Chicago's Nineteenth Ward, First Precinct. According to the book the map "worked to tame the anxieties about social dysfunction held by the same people, by isolating each dysfunction, comprehending it, and so enabling it to be corrected and eliminated." The map shows brothels, pawn brokers, saloons and lodging houses in addition to "legitimate" businesses. Because of the gridded nature of Chicago's streets and the almost exactly identical areas of the properties, the map looks and functions almost like a graph. A more complete description of the map can be found here.
3 years ago


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This morning I was walking with Kiki through the clover field. There was a lovely scent in the air, coming in waves whenever the wind was still. But try as I may, I couldn't find the source anywhere. Then, while heading back in the direction of home, I decided to take a quick look on the other side of the line of trees which flanks each side of the creek running along the clover field. And there, white and frothy and swimming in bees, was a low blossoming tree. This was where that glorious scent was coming from.
There were bumble bees, honey bees, and butterflies swarming all over it. I managed to capture these three pictures:


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Sunday, January 23, 2011
la ink tattoo designs
Kat Von D, star of The Learning Channel's L.A. Ink, has added "author" to
Result: Quite possibly the simplest tattoo in all of LA Ink (and Miami Ink
kat von d with tattoos. Also on Zimbio: Kat Von D La Ink Shop
celebrity star of TLC's reality TV show "LA Ink." Rooftop & LA ink.
Miami Ink Tattoos » Miami Ink Tattoos
Kat aims to complete 400 tattoos at the L.A. Ink
La Ink Tattoo Designs. The best advice I ever receive was to research my
L.A. Ink celebrity tattoo artist KAT VON D has everybody showing off their
LA Ink's Kat Von D Attempts A 24 Hour Guinness World Tattoo Record
my LA ink tank tattoo's by
My mom is actually a fan of "LA Ink" and it kinda gave me the
la ink, la ink tattoo designs, la ink website, la ink tattoos,
LA Ink tattoo now. Pixie
kat von d tattoo artist design 4
Famous Miami Ink/L.A. Ink tattoo artist, Kat Von D teams up with Element
free tattoo pictures from la ink tattoos designs. This Guinness World Record
la ink. Pictures: DCI | forum user: diamondfoxx. Tattoo Mistake No.
A Learning Center is also part of the content on the LA Ink Tattoo Designs
Kat aims to complete 400 tattoos at the L.A. Ink
tattoo from L.A. Ink Nikki Sixx Finds Love With `LA Ink` Tattooist Kat Von D
Posted by mzk at 6:08 PM
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So the awesome L.P Dover is hosting the Carolina Book Fest this August!
Tickets are now on sale and are only 10.00
Not only will I be there but the list of attending authors is so huge, I can't fit them all on here.
Click the link below to get more information and to order your tickets now.
You don't want to miss out on this event, trust me!
Carolina Book Fest


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Morality is not determined by the church you attend nor the faith you embrace. It is determined by the quality of your character and the positive impact you have on those you meet along your journey
Sunday, August 21, 2016
It looks like Sarah Palin's boyfriend Joe Arpaio might be prosecuted for criminal contempt of court.
A federal judge on Friday referred Maricopa County Sheriff Joe Arpaio and three of his aides to the U.S. Attorney's Office, requesting that they be prosecuted for criminal contempt of court.
The landmark decision comes after U.S. District Court Judge G. Murray Snow found that Arpaio intentionally violated various orders rooted in an 8-year-old racial-profiling case.
Could not happen to a more deserving POS.
Gee perhaps when he gets sent to the big house Sarah Palin can gift him with a pair of pink underwear just like the ones he once gave her.
37 comments:
Oh my, oh my, oh my my my. Sheriff is going to look just faaabyoolus in those pink undies!ReplyDeleteReplies
- Anonymous5:15 AM
So what about Sexy Sarah's work experience at Fox?ReplyDelete
Either Ailes asked her for a BJ -which is terrible
Or he did not -possibly even worse.
- Anonymous5:25 AM
Trump is going to get nailed too. Trump U, Bayrock .... who knows what else. Just a matter of time and now that he's put himself out there as a presidential candidate, the press will be able to dig, dig, dig and he can't go around suing them like the good old days LOLReplyDeleteReplies
- Anonymous5:38 AM
Donald Trump visited Louisiana today. He brought with him a truck loaded with food, supplies, and toys that he personally passed out. He also donated money to a flood relief charity. He went and walked flooded houses in a community. He didn't ask for state police or military security, I I imagine he may have had his personal security with him but hey he pays them so not my business. He didn't ask for any road to be closed to bring him in or an escort to his destination, matter of fact he didn't inform the government of his visit at all. He didn't care if the government knew he was coming, he just came and brought needing people needed supplies. And the news covered it about 15 seconds and then used it as a hit piece to plug Obama's visit that will happen. It was just wrong on many levels. No matter of you agree with Trump political are not what he done today was honorable and good, and he did it without making a big deal of himself. I hope more people of his statue will do the same in the same way, without all the hype of announcing their visit with intent of a public photo op.ReplyDeleteReplies
- Anonymous5:49 AM
Does Trump have some mysterious benevolent twin, because that wasn't the Trump I saw?! He gave out Play Doh and signed hats. The Secret Service guys had to accompany him, so our taxes did pay for his trip. He's done nothing but use those peoples' misfortune for his own political gain. It's a shame that you refuse to see him for what he is. The man cares for no one but himself.Delete
- 66gardeners5:55 AM
Trump spent all of 49 seconds unloading that trump, consisting primarily of PlayDoh. Meanwhile, the federal gov't paid for increases security via the SS to stand and watch him doing that. Has Trump donated any money to the relief effort in LA? If he had we would know it because he would boast about it.Delete
- Anonymous6:26 AM
Hey, Trumpbuttlicker! Read THIS from someone who actually VOLUNTEERS there, and KNOW what's going on!Delete
p.s. Your post *may* have carried a *little* more weight had you bothered to take the time and effort to check for numerous spelling and grammatical errors.
- Anonymous6:34 AM
The Governor of LA told Trump to stay home. He knew Trumps visit was nothing more than a photo op. He asked Trump to make a donation to the flood relief fund which he did Not do. And if you don't know that he is now protected by Secret Service you are dumber than dirt.Trump handed out Play Doh for 49 fucking SECONDS.Te president realized what a disruption and drain on much needed man power is delaying his visit until Tuesday like the Governor asked. The President immediately garnered much needed relief funding.That's what a leader does. Go back to Breitbart because you are obviously too stupid to comprehend anything else.Delete
- Anonymous8:09 AM
5:38 the governor of louisiana stated trump could donate money or trump could assist with the recovery otherwise stay away.Delete
Trump ignored the governor nor did he even contact him about the trip.
He showed up and spent 49 seconds handing play dog to mike pence, signed a dozen hats and walked around with the press. Did he take his jacket off and roll up his sleeves and help anyone? No. Did he get on a boat and tour the flooded areas and assist with rescues? No he did not.
Did he use the opportunity to slam president Obama? Yes he did. Politically motivated, self centered photo op fail.
You state he didn't care if the government knew he was coming-he doesn't care about anyone other than himself. His few minutes of self glorification in front of the press did nothing to help louisiana. He made a joke out of the people he signed hats for. One woman on video said she lost everything but seeing trump made it worth it!!! WTH? If she was not a plant put there for trumps photo op than she is crazy enough to work on his campaign and should be offered a job with him.
WHO says that?
Trump is all about trump and nothing you nor he says or does can change that in the next eighty days. Everyone has had a year to understand exactly who he is and he tells the truth remember? So every thing he has said about Mexicans and women and Muslims and blacks and china ,etc. is the truth.
- Anonymous5:44 AM
Palin will re-gift her pink panties to the "tough thug".ReplyDelete
Another punk ass ! Right Sarah?
"America is full of POSs. Before he became known as the ultimate symbol of U.S. arrogance, white privilege and the delusion of American exceptionalism, Ryan Lochte seemed like a relatively harmless dudebro who we all forgave for being a douche because he won swim races and has a very symmetrical face."ReplyDelete
"Earlier today, Ann Coulter surrendered the title of "Worst Man in America" to Lochte."
"On his way back to the US, Lochte berated the flight attendant for not serving his Macadamia nuts in a bowl.
Anybody else out there want to put his nuts in a bowl?"
airvicemarshalpark 16 hours ago
about Olympic swimmer Ryan Lochte.
- Crystal Sage9:37 AM
Couldn't help but notice in the picture of Palin with Arpaio that the Trig used for the event had the "ruffled ear" of earlier versions. More recent pictures show a much different Trig with black hair and aboriginal features. Sorry, Sarah. Most of us do not subscribe to your theory that all mentally challenged children look alike.ReplyDelete
- Anonymous12:02 PM
I'd love to see him put in his own prison. And to see a viral pic of him in pink underwear and eating plain white bread with water would be great. This is what he does to his inmates, many of whom are guilty of the slightest crime. He's all about humiliation and spending so little on the inmates. This prison needs to be shut down, but unfortunately AZ is not on the list of states that will have their private prisons ended.ReplyDelete


text:
None of them had paid a single peso to be here. The performance was a gift from the city authorities. The mayor's office had organized it; a consortium of business people had paid for it. Now Shakira was here and the people of Mérida were having the time of their lives.
Shakira entertained the city for two hours, playing all of her greatest hits, including 'Pies Descalzos', 'Hips Don't Lie', 'Te Dejo Madrid', 'La Tortura', 'Loba' and 'Antes de las Seis'. A surprise addition to the set-list was a cover of the US band, Metallica's 'Nothing Else Matters', which was received very well by the exuberant masses.
Her encore, of course, was 'Waka, Waka (This Time for Africa)', which was the official song of the 2010 FIFA World Cup. Watching from the wings was her own favourite international footballer. Boyfriend Gerard Piqué, centre back for Barcelona FC, and one of the key players for the Spanish team that won the World Cup last year, accompanied Shakira to Mérida.
Tickets were handed out at special 'one-stop shops' around the city, in the days leading up to the event. The majority of people stood, but there was preferential seating for the disabled and for youngsters who had demonstrated outstanding academic or sporting prowess. Teachers and coaches were previously invited to nominate students for the treat, with organizers choosing who to honor based on their records and stories.
Land around a former railway station, La Plancha, was cleared and developed, in order to hold this free concert on Saturday night. It had previously been derelict and overgrown, but now promises to be a venue for future events in Mérida.
However, not everyone was happy. Some protesters boycotted the concert, whilst campaigning against the use of public money for it. They argued that, though Shakira's fee had been paid by local business people, preparing the land came from the treasury. This was money, they maintained, whilst would have been better spent on education or health. They were also concerned by the lack of transparency surrounding costs, through which it became impossible to know precisely how much tax-payers had contributed.
Angelica Araujo Lara, the municipal president of the city, had held a series of public meetings, outlining how the concert would bring tourism to the area. The city's hotels, shops, restaurants and bars would all benefit as attendees were drawn from outside Mérida; while the global coverage of the event would be a great showcase for the city. In short, any money put in by the public purse would be recouped by this boost to the local economy.
With an eye to the incoming tourists, attracted by the presense of Shakira, this concert didn't happen in isolation. In the week leading up to it, several public events were staged, including a huge exhibition of Mérida handicrafts; a folk ballet; a musical review, featuring children and teenagers from the city; and a concert by local bands and the city's orchestra. All of these were free to attend and took place in Mérida's main parks and plazas.
A selection of fan-made videos, filmed at the Mérida concert, can be found at Yazmín MK's 'My Shaki Blog'.


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After easing through his last three fights on cruise control, Mayweather was made to work by the industrious Argentine who bullied and harassed Floyd on the ropes from the get-go.
Ultimately, Mayweather's supreme counter-boxing shone through as he picked his shots for the majority of the contest and enjoyed a slender but decisive margin in an otherwise engrossing, back-and-forth contest.
It was also far more of a roughhouse brawl than many Mayweather fans will be used to seeing, with the American suffering a rare laceration when he was cut in the fourth round by an accidental clash of heads.
Mayweather was none too pleased when judge CJ Ross inexplicably scored his one-sided win over Saul 'Canelo' Alvarez a draw, but when the first judges' scorecard came through as 114-114 he had little complaint this time around.
Indeed, when the second and third judges' scorecards came through as 117-111 and 116-112 for a majority decision, there was legitimate suspense as to the winner of the bout until Mayweather's name was declared.
This writer scored the bout 115-113 for Mayweather, as did Kevin Iole of Eurosport's Stateside sister website Yahoo Sports.
Both fighters felt they had done enough to win the rousing main event at the MGM Grand Garden Arena in Las Vegas, leaving everyone involved happy to consider a rematch in September.
"If the fans want to see us fight again I'll do it again. This was not my last fight," said 'Money'.
Mayweather continued: "I describe this as a tough competitive fight. It's what the fans wanted to see. Normally I box and move, box and move but this was a brawl."
The victor, now 46-0 after making a colourful entrance involving musicians Lil Wayne and Justin Bieber as well as a host of circus clowns, added: "The fans wanted an exciting fight so I wanted to stand there and give him a fight. Maidana's a very good fighter and it was one of my toughest fights.
"The cut was from an accidental headbutt but for two rounds I could not see. A true champion can make adjustments to anything and that's what I did when he was boxing well."
Maidana remained adamant after the bout that he had done enough to win, and said through an interpreter: "I felt like I won the fight. Floyd did not fight like a man like I expected him to.
"He did dominate some rounds but I dominated the majority.
"Rematch? It should be me who grants him a rematch because I won the fight! I am not scared of Mayweather. Why not have a rematch?"
A second bout would not only provoke interest after the all-action nature of this first meeting between the two, but would prove convenient for a champion who is struggling to find interesting enough challengers after a near two-decade long unbeaten career.
Amir Khan, who outclassed Luis Collazo in the chief support bout, is one option in the future for Mayweather but is unlikely to be available for September due to his commitment to Ramadan.


text: Hola Srishfam, I am not sure whether you guys have realized it or not, but I am not an eye-makeup person. I try to keep it minimalistic when it comes to eye makeup, and in my case, that's a Kajal and a Mascara. Most of the times I just wear an Eye-liner , and slay… Continue reading Faces Ultime Pro Eyeshadow Palette (Rose) -Review/Photos/Swatches


text: Its just 2 weeks until the Trade Fair and we have a great schedule lined up for everyone. Everything is ready for a great weekend and i have ordered great weather. For those vendors and campers, I will be at the Village at 10am on Thursday, 10/18 til about 7 pm that night. I'll be back by 8:30 am on Friday. Roy Howman will be at the Village Thursday night for any late arrivals. I look forward to seeing you all this year. Take care. Jack


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At the 2012 Olympic Trials, I was able to have access to the field during the 5k and 10k races. It was exciting to watch Galen Rupp break Steve Prefontaine's Olympic Trials record for the 10k, averaging close to 4:20 per mile. The finish of the men's 5k was intense with Galen Rupp edging out Bernard Lagat even though Lagat had a slightly faster final lap. The women's 5k was filled with drama as Julia Lucas was not quite able to hang on to make the Olympic team, getting edged out by Kim Conley, who ran her fasted 5k ever. I positioned cameras during these races in order to observe the foot strikes of elite distance runners.
For years, runners, coaches and forum posters have debated on how foot strike is connected with injury and performance. After hours of reading, discussing, and debating, no consensus has been made. Many people believe each person should naturally use the foot strike that they naturally prefer. I would advise that this is a good choice. However, something has been overlooked by most people with the focus on categorizing people into these three foot strikes. All the discussions I've read have focused on the side view. However, our ankles and feet can do much more than point up and down from a side view. Our feet can be rotated around three different axis.
During the 10k races, I set up a camera from a side view to see whether runners were using heel, mid-foot or forefoot strikes.
During the 5k race, I set up a camera from a near front view to see the foot rotation from a different perspective.
After viewing these foot strikes from a front view, I realized the question of foot strike is not one-dimensional. While the side-view position of the foot is worth considering, the other two planes should not be ignored. From the front view, it is clear that runners utilize varying degrees of pronation to absorb the shock of landing (demonstrated with a rotation of the foot from a front view). Many runners, also land with a mid-foot strike, then rotate the heel inwards (rotation of the foot from a top view).
As these positions are considered from all three planes, a much better understanding of what the foot goes through during ground contact can be determined. However, a lot more confusion may also be added to the ongoing discussions of foot strikes.With all that said, I believe the following application of knowledge is safe to follow:
- Changing a person's foot strike increases injury risk of the foot and lower leg. Even 10 weeks seems to be too short of a time to make a transition safely.
- The type of foot strike a person prefers at some given speed is not connected with performance. Heel strikers typically progress to a mid-foot strike as they increase their running speed. However, the type of foot strike found early in a race when people are running equal speeds cannot be used to determine the outcome of the race.
- A mid-foot strike is associated with greater stresses on the foot and ankle, but lower stresses on the hip and knee. In the end, most studies show no difference in total number of injuries with various foot strikes.


text:
Not long after that, I realized that I needed to do something about all this weight, so I started working out in our basement. At the time, I weighed 308. Matt helped me set some rewards for every 50 lbs that I lost: a night at a B&B for 258, Disney World for 208, and a cruise for 158. And then Daddy got leukemia and I put some of the weight back on. By the time his funeral rolled around, I was back up to over 280.
A couple of months after the school year started that fall (2001), I went to LA Weight Loss and signed up for thier year-long program. I did a great job on LAWL, losing 100 lbs in 41 weeks. I weighed 181 and I felt wonderful! I was only 25 lbs away from my goal of 158.
Six years later, here I sit FINALLY weighing 158!
I can't believe it's actually happened. Better yet, I'm not finished losing weight so what I thought was my ultimate goal has become another stepping stone. When I am finished, I will weigh between 130 and 140 lbs. My smallest ever!


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My new obsession is being delivered today! It's a Lendrum.
I had the opportunity to try out other wheels during my class. I worked on a Louet, an Ashford, a Majacraft, and a Schacht. I found that I really liked the Lendrum. The Ashford Saxony was a bit wobbly for my taste. It just didn't feel solid. While I liked the Louet, Majacraft, and the Schacht, I think for the money the Lendrum was the best buy. It's solid, very easy to assemble and disassemble for transporting (if you are into taking your wheel with you), and it comes with a good range of spin ratio's right out of the box. I purchased the "complete" model because it gave you the jumbo flyer for plying or making bulky yarn and the fast flyer. If purchased separately, it would have been more expensive than buying the wheel and adding these later.
I guess I won't get in the shower until the postman arrives. I can't risk missing the momentous event! Yeah, I'm squirrely that way.


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I love the moment when you first wake up, between dream and day, floating on a cloud. The room is cold and you're warm beneath the quilts, the sun seeping in from under the shades.
Even better, the dog has slept in and sticks her cold nose in your face AFTER 8 a.m. We get up and go downstairs. I love the way they look so funny scrambling down. The dog food has spilled, and I throw it out on the floor. She runs around and gobbles it up, eating in eight seconds instead of four. Very entertaining.
As opposed to yesterday, my feet have not woken me up. I guess that's the sunny way to look at the fact that my neuropathy – technically called chemotherapy induced peripheral neuropathy – returned after I stopped taking Neurontin. I wanted to see if it had gone away, but alas, within about a week it was back. Yesterday I woke up to sharp pins piercing my feet.
I popped two pills and felt better pretty quickly.
I looked it up and found that the nerve pain is sometimes so severe that patients need to take a break during chemotherapy. The pain can last for days or months or even indefinitely. There isn't a proven treatment. Neurontin, which is used for nerve disorders, takes the edge off. One doctor at Dana-Farber said he thought cocoa butter helped. (It didn't.)
All drugs have side effects, of course, so I really wanted to stop the pills. I read that acupuncture and massage can help, so I might look into that.
Even with the drug, my feet are sometimes not all there.
Using the "N" card, (for neuropathy instead of the "C" card for cancer), could come in handy.
Can't do a yoga pose? I can't feel my feet! (Which is actually often the case, although I don't say it.)
Can't run for the tennis ball? My feet are numb!
I am trying to make a joke out of it, but it's not always that funny. Well at least for now, there is a solution, and I can proceed with my sunny day.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Good day sunshine
Posted by Ronni Gordon at 6:27 AM
Labels: acupuncture, chemotherapy, massage., Neurontin, neuropathy
1 comment:
- Joanna said...
Oh no. You need your feet to move around the court. I hope this situation clears up pronto.
- January 26, 2013 at 10:13 PM
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text:
I just uploaded the current online catalogue of fine and finest Hereke silken rugs, which are available at Hereke Carpets – the safe place to buy your genuine Hereke rug or carpet at a fair price.
Come back often as it will be changed regularly.
Enjoy the tradition, beauty, luxury and elegance of turkish hand-knotting art without any regret.
I deliver more than one million Turkish double knots per square meter.


text:
A ribbon-cutting ceremony was held this morning for the new Stir It Up Coffeehouse in the Sixth Avenue complex. It originally had been targeted for a November 2012 opening, but construction delays put that off until mid-January, when it began operating in soft-opening mode.
Mayor Lou Rosamilia, Downtown Troy BID Executive Director Elizabeth Young, and other city and business figures attended today's ceremony along with business operator Rick VanVorst.
Stir It Up serves various coffees, teas, paninni and other sandwiches
(including breakfast sandwiches), soups and fresh-baked goods. It also
offers free wi-fi and will be offering live music, open mic and trivia nights.
Hours: Monday through Friday 8 a.m. to 8 p.m. and weekends 9 a.m. to 3 p.m.
City Station is a bold, 14-acre development project of land near the city police headquarters, originally known as the Congress-Ferry Street Corridor. The first phase of the project, which consists of 48 graduate student apartments plus street-level commercial space, opened last summer. The second phase is presently under construction.
Go here for the region's best local food & drinks events calendar.


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Graduation is a time for celebration. You've worked hard, spent countless nights hunched over your computer screen desperately trying to understand the impossibilities your instructor expects you to be able to discuss intelligently for the duration of the class (and hopefully beyond), and hope to find any indication that your study materials will hold some inkling of relevance in the real world. No, I'm not talking about high school (but congratulations to the graduation high school class of 2011!). I'm talking about post-secondary education. That's right. College.
For many of us, college was something we were expected to do immediately following high school. Some of us did exactly that. I, for one, left high school as one of our class valedictorians (yep, that's right, I said one of.) and headed off to college as one of the top incoming freshmen of that school. I worked hard. I played hard. I got involved in everything that I found interesting around campus. I took 15 credit hours per semester (the max allowed for incoming freshmen, and at 15 credit hours per semester, you had to have a faculty advisor's support and the dean's approval). I worked full-time off campus in the city where I attended college. I also drove home nearly every weekend, a 6 hour drive one-way, to work at our family business and at the job I held full-time all through high school. I made new friends, stayed out late, and studied even later. I also got hooked on caffeine pills (Yep. That wasn't fun.). I got burned out by the end of my first year. Worst of all, I did the one thing that everyone warns you against when you take on too much in college. I left.
The plan was to leave for one semester, come back, and be still be able to graduate with my friends as expected because of my big course-load and over-planning. That didn't happen. What started out as one semester turned into 10. Five years (and an entire lifetime) after leaving, I returned. And that wouldn't have happened without the awesome support and encouragement from my husband and the extreme determination to set an example for my children... and myself.
Since then I have obtained a Certificate in Human Resource Management and, in April 2011, completed my Bachelor of Science in Business Management. (YAY!) However, I decided to take things another step further. My alumni enrollment advisor, Nancy, must have thought I was crazy... I'm now enrolled in and currently working towards the completion of my MBA... with duel concentrations. Global Management and Human Resource Management. Yep. Duel. I'm told that is highly unusual. That figures. I never was one to be normal. Normal is boring. Besides, it's not like I am super-busy anyway, right? ;-) (HaHaHa!)
The world today is not like it used to be. Men and women have the opportunity to return to school at any point in their life without criticism or judgement. College courses are offered at schedules and locations that are convenient for any lifestyle or overwhelmed calendar. Yes, I mean any. All it takes is dedication, hard work, and self-discipline (especially if you choose the online degree programs!). Most importantly, you need to do it for you. My motivation included my husband and my children, but most importantly, I did it for me. If you aren't doing it for you, you will have a very hard time finding the strength to push through the hardest of courses (Like RES 341 & 342! Oh my gosh!-BRUTAL!). If someone tells you it's easy, they're lying. Plain and simple. It's not easy. It's hard. But it's worth it. And funding is out there to help! There are so many programs out there to choose from--and you don't have to get a degree... there are technical diplomas and certificates out there that hold a lot of relevance too! I've been in classes with all ages and walks of life-literally.
If you are interested in going back to school, give it a try! It's not too late. Take it from this recent graduate... the best things in life don't come easy... that's part of what makes them worth it!


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Yesterday on a message board an atheist assaulted me with a little essay on philosophy that I find most depressing. It's depressing because it basically confirms all the most alarming and anti-human aspects of modern thought I have accused the New atheists of harboring, it affirms in an unabashed, proud and defiant manner as though they are so obvious that to state them is prove them. Yet what's being is proving is basically that none of us have the right to think apart form affirming the ideology handed down form the atheist hierarchy. This "atheist hierarchy" is basically scinece. Not that I think science is an atheist hierarchy, I think that's what the new atheist think it is. I am leaving the interlocutor's name out, because I don't him to feel put on the spot. I'll just call him:
Existentialism is an unfortunate example of how philosophy gets side tracked by bad ideas. Existentialism essentially destroys any meaningful conception of knowledge and resorts to subjectivism to explain the human experience. It's not any better than the Idealism it wished to criticize, simply because it just offers the other extreme as a solution.Meta: Right away we have what I consider to be pure evil. The vilification of existentialism, if it is not centered around the pretentious nature of his French exemplars, will probably be base upon the desire to control the thinking of others. Existentialism rebelled against imposed structures that filter our understanding of world for us and force us to think in prescribed ways. The criticism made here asserts that to undersatnd reality by understanding our own perceptions of it is a mistake can only mean that the author feels that the prescribed and contorted version of reality is the only one that counts as knowledge. In other words, he wants someone to do his thinking for him. He continues with several several misconceptions about Kierkegaard:
Kierkegaard describes religion as a matter of individual subjective passion, unmediated by others. The reason he favored Christianity was because he lived in a Christian culture. His argument for faith is, even by his own admission, absurd. He denies all reason in it and treats it as something that can never be understood, through experience, by others, which more or less means that the study of human psychology is completely fruitless. He just says faith is a miracle, so there. That's not philosophy, it's art at its best and lazy thinking at its worst. He was a product of his time, and utilizes the same inaccurate theory of mind that rational idealists and empiricists of the time had to rely upon, which explains why all three philosophies are incredibly problematic.Meta: First of all, as always pointing out that "he's a Christian because he lives in a Christian culture" is just not meaningful to someone who thinks God is working in all cultures. It's no different than saying "he's only a Christian because that's the tradition that speaks to him." You see the contradiction in his thinking here. He says the kind of thinking that recognizes the power of the individual to perceive reality and not be forced a prescribed way of thinking is invalid when it challenges the atheist fortress of facts, that's scinece and science is the only form of knowledge, because it backs atheism (supposedly) but religious belief is based upon a prescribed set of premises then that's proof that it's not true. Yet by his way of thinking the cultural norm should be seen as truth a priori, the individual's understanding of what's true should be shunned a violation of the relationship between perceptions and knowledge (as he talks about above). Wait, the difference is with religion it's not coming through his prescribed form of knowledge (science) so it must be wrong either way. Very convoluted way of thinking.
Moreover, his understanding of SK is sophomoric. SK did not mean that faith is irrational in the sense of being stupid and unjustified. That's a standard misconception. He's just saying that logic is hypothetical and unless faith is experienced, the presence of God first hand, it's not real. He disparaged Cartesian coordinates on the basis that unless doubt is real then faith is not real (by this I mean his philosophical coordinates). Doubt is not real when it's a philosophical exercise and one doesn't really doubt. Therefore, it is not establishing faith to overcome phony doubt with hypothetical. New atheist dread the subjective. They are scared to death by experience. My guess is they are aware of the power of religious experience to convict and turn people to God. The first thing they have to crush is the validity of experiencing God.
He goes on to give a lot phony talk about the history of philosophy which I don't he understands:
This theory of mind I'm talking about is the nineteenth century paradigm that sees the mind relating to the environment through sensory perception, so experience is seen as passive and observational. Experience can only be described as participatory action with one's environment, which is something that the rational idealists, empiricists, and existentialists failed to recognize. Empiricism grasped the spirit of the modern age, but it lacked the teeth to actualize it. Rational idealists like Kant and existentialists like Kierkegaard understood empiricism to be destructive to knowledge and went in separate directions, the former relying on a transcendental realm of Being that is responsible for absolute truth to restore knowledge and the latter retreating into subjectivism in the personal sphere.
Meta:"Experience can only be described as participatory action with one's environment," I think if I put my mind to it I could describe experience in other ways. What he's really doing there is setting up a the need to actively control things as the basis for knowledge. Anything that doesn't imposes an ideology of atheism is not knowledge. The only proper knowledge is the imposition of control. Defining experimentally based philosophy as a passive reception of sense data is a mistake in understanding the nature of experience. That does not mean, however, the only alternative is the impossition of a pre coincided view.Now to undersand his comments fairly we should probaly think of what he is saying as an active hands-on search for what's out there rather than the imposition of control. Yet what he's prescribing is control because it assumes a set of percipience steps that the only valid steps and screening out of all else that is not part of ht steps (hence the dread of subjective experience). I can relate the notion of knowledge as an active search but why must it be limited to his active search and other those of others? Why just scinece and not all forms of knowledge? Why must it always be active search why can't it be a dialectics where passive gathering of sense data and informed watchful reception is combined with active searching in a global way rather than a prescribed way?
All of these notions, by today's standards, ought to be considered silly.Meta:In other words, "all of these notions" existentialism, Phenomenology, experience, individuals thinking for themselves perhaps? Very silly.
All deny, implicitly, the role of intelligent practice in acquiring knowledge. Sensory perception is merely a stimulus to action, it is not knowledge. Knowledge results from the intelligent modification of habits in relation to environmental stimuli. Knowing is not a matter of passively observing reality, it is a manner of interacting with it... probing it, controlling it, etc.Meta:Probing it hu? Seriously, this statement confirms all my worst fears. It's a frank admission that it's talking about control. The future belongs to us! How about this definition, knowledge results form "intelligent modification of habits in relation to stimuli " In ohter words knowledge is not about knowing things Perish the thoguht, who would ever think that? Knowledge is about knowing what i want you to know. It's about being trained to look at the world the way we want you to see it. But of course we should just accept that it's all meant for he best, those wonderful science wouldn't do anything wrong would they? They weren't any scientists developing racial scinece for Hitler were there? It's ok to erase the ability of the individual to think for himself, and to decliar everything opposed to out ideology as "non-knowledge." That's just that philosophy stuff that can't get us in any trouble.
This understanding of mind, which is scientifically current, offers a solution to the major criticism of empiricism. The need for transcendental realm of Being in order to have knowledge of the world is gone, which was only needed when the thought was that experience was atomized instead of unified through the very necessities of life.Meta:What did he just say now? He said the current understanding of mind, which what? According to most new atheist the current understanding of min is that there is none. That mind is just an illusion or a side effect (if it's anything at all) brought on by brain chemistry and it means nothing. So in other words the idea we can erase the mind and thinking of ourselves as deterministic robots is solution to the problem of knowledge. Of cousre it is. There's no problem of knowledge if you dont' seek to know anything. After all his definition of knowledge leaves out the idea that knowledge is about knowing things. Of course he asserts hat transcendental stuff is just an old fashioned for things we don't have any more because scinece has replaced the need. That need was born of pretending that truth is somewhere out there and we have to seek it in ways that are not prescribed by the ideology. So course we course we don't need that now because we have the ideology. Because the ideology frees us form needing it the potential reality of it just goes away. There is no reality in transcendent realm because we we don't need it with the ideology telling us what to think. Yet the worse is still to come:
The absolute subjectivity of human experience disappears because knowledge exists as real interactions... one can judge whether their actions are ones informed by knowledge or not.Meta:
Subjectivity disappeared? Our qualia and sense data are no longer subjective? We cut that off an let it go away. It's not there we don't have to think about it. I can see how we can ignore the subjective and pretend that all becomes objective. Yet how do we get your experience of it into my head? you can dictate that I must think as you do but you cannot dictate that I experience what you expedience. my experience is still mind. I still perceive the world though my own perceptions and not yours. Now matter how ardently you seek to pretend that all now share the same perceptions we do not. Subjectivity can't ever go away. That's just the epistemological fallacy. you can't get outside your own perceptions to check them and you can't make them become those of others just by trying to impose the same ideas upon the thinking of others. The subjectivity of human experience disappears. What extreme arrogance and nonsense. We don't all start having the same experiences just becuase one imposes a party line.
While there is still room for authenticity in this view, the notion of it in the existentialist view is overblown.Meta: Room for authenticity where? Where can there be authenticity when subjectivity is gone? There can only be authenticity if we accept that we have different view points and different sets of perceptions. But we he just said subjectivity is gone. After all, like the transcendent, if we don't need it anymore it must go away.
Much of what existentialists refer to as "authentic" is merely a product of culture as opposed to something really authentic to that particular individual. It is true that each individual has his own unique impulses, but how he acts on them is largely a product of the given social environment. Kierkegaard, for instance, decided that Christianity was authentic to him, when in reality it was a product of the habits and customs of his culture.
Meta: So in other words there's still some authenticity but only the bit that agrees with the party line. The bit that doesn't is "merely product of culture." There's that contradiction again. He's supposed to think that knowledge is imposing an active view point where everyone has these objective facts that makes them right and they don't need to wonder about things, anything we have to wonder about is not worth keeping around. We reduce knowledge to just the answers that result from the question we can answer our way. There's some authenticity around but not the kind that disagrees with the party line?
web definition of existentialism:
part 2 on friday.


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Wore this to work and an audition on a milder day last week. The day was nothing special, but I like this outfit:
The heel broke off of one of those t-strap flats not long after I was out the door. Oy. I'm picking them up from the cobbler tomorrow–I don't know that there's much hope for them, but I really love them, so I had to try! The bag came from a street vendor in London years ago.The bag, thankfully, is still going strong.


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Saturday, June 4, 2011
[Asian Dreams]
Nardya of Nardcotix has released the most fabu wedge named GLORIA! She comes in a huge variety of colors and I completely fell in love with the blue it was the perfect edition to my new find from Vero Modero. And, with my favorite color-change bangle from Je Suis I found perfection!
Exploring is a great way to relax and SL has some amazing sims to discover. I fell upon the most realistic Japanese sim and got lost in it's old-world beauty. Definitely stop by if you get a chance! TP to Japan Kansai!
GOLden Shopping has your fix for the style you see here today!
TP to GOLden!
Style Card:
Skin - Belleza - Aiko - Pale 8 HB Cleavage
Hair - Dura - Girl 16 in Black
Hairpiece - Oiseaunoir - Headdress BL
Earrings- Zaara - Anaya in Turquoise Silver
Bracelet - Je Suis - Africain in Light
Dress - VERO MODERO - Brezzy in Brick
Shoes - NX - Nardcotix Gloria in Blue *NEW*
2 comments:
- Chalice Carling said...
You look stunning and mysterious and stylish. In other words, very Vixie. Can always tell a Vixie pic from miles away....they always GLOW.
- June 5, 2011 at 1:54 AM
- Wholesale Printing said...
Really Appricated Thanks for update. Thanks overnight prints
- January 7, 2012 at 5:37 PM
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Photo: Diane Edwardson, November 11, 2014. A young Red Tailed Hawk has been hanging around the top of the big pine tree in a Corralitas yard. From there it has a sweeping view of the entire south end of the Red Car Property, from which to hunt unsuspecting rats, gophers & squirrels.
Photo: Diane Edwardson, November 11, 2014. If you look very closely, you can see the Red Tail atop the pine tree.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Corralitas Drive: Red Tailed Hawk
Posted by Corralitas Red Car Property at Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Labels: Corralitas, hawk, trees, wildlife


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Rate this poem
Usain Bolt
written by: Steve Pearson
theatre first
all antics and play
swagger and soirée
before business begins.
then he retreats
while the world take their seats
holding their breath
he, all focus and grace
ahead of the moment
down in his blocks
as one with the clocks
tick tock,
tick tock,
The starting gun cocks.
Rising, like a growing need
A surging, unbridled steed
Reaching, summoning speed
Like flowing gold
Seismic and balletic
Mesmeric in flow
His world in tow
Beauty in motion
A glorious ride
Race against time
Greatness of stride
Line to line
Victory is his
And mine.
the lightning bolt
back to the show
his world in tow
breathing again
history like rain
as witnesses
of a new sublime
moment of time
frozen in his name
Steve Pearson
Latest posts by Steve Pearson (see all)
- Gods Of The Field - July 6, 2018
- The Cry - June 18, 2018
- A Different Me - May 28, 2018


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Don't miss stories. Follow Raw Story!
Murder trial opens for S. Korea ferry captain and crew (via AFP)
The highly-charged trial of 15 crew members from South Korea's ferry disaster began Tuesday to shouts of "murderers" from victims' relatives who called for the defendants to be executed. With divers still searching the submerged vessel for bodies and…
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Gracias por todo
Gracias por todo
Siempre he sentido algo especial por la literatura, y una gran admiración por los buenos autores y por su capacidad de expresar cosas tan complejas como los sentimientos a través de cosas tan aparentemente simples como las palabras.
A veces he intentado escribir alguna cosilla. Ojalá tuviera yo también esa capacidad de poder expresar sentimientos a través de pocas palabras, y además, de hacerlo arte. Aquí alguna de las cosas que escribí:
What are Friends For?
Friendship is such a nice and beautiful concept, but, where does it come from? Personally, when I think about the origins of anything, I always tend to think about Greeks, the Ancient Greeks. They were a very witty and pragmatic civilisation.
Those smart Greeks, who drafted the ideal shape of the perfect Government, might have as well sketched the perfect link between two individuals of the same species.
Later on, when Romans invaded their land, they –Romans, another intelligent civilisation- borrowed the most useful things that Greeks had; the concept of friendship among them.
Finally, Barbarians stole it from Romans and were the nation which, after many centuries, brought it to perfection. Barbarians were another mentally bright tribe, a little savage and bloody, that is true, but very bright in the end. Fréondscipe they called it in their Old English.
Friendship has constantly kept on evolving and changing its own features, in fact it has been people who has changed and adapted it to our time. As it happens to a great bunch of things, friendship has shifted from one to extreme to the opposite one.
Have you ever been unlucky enough to be someone's friend? If so, I bet you remember some situations which every friend has lived: You go to a pub with your friend and the both of you have a drink, but when your friend tries to reach for his wallet…"Oh, man, can you pay that one? I left my wallet on the car" What can you answer? "Never mind, what are friends for?"
Not only is it exasperating but it can get even worse. When you get out of the pub, your friend asks "Hey, can I borrow your car tonight? I have met a girl whom I want to impress, you live some blocks form here and…we are friends, aren't we?"
Barbarians probably did not have to give their friends a lift or let them their cars, albeit I am sure they had to pay them more than a beer, however, in our present time, it is not really exaggerated affirming having friends is much better than being someone's friend and even better than being the owner of a bank; what can enrich you more than your best friends?
Aquí hay más cosillas que en su día intenté escribir.


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JD Sports, M&S, Amazon and John Lewis are the e-commerce sites that other retailers need to look up to, according to an eDigital benchmark study.
In the mystery shopper survey, which looks at the end to end user experience of 49 e-commerce sites in the UK, many of the sites performed well for areas such as search and navigation and the purchase process, but email customer service, as always, lowered the average scores.
Top performers
JD Sports was strong all round, coming top across all of the customer touchpoints measured in the survey. JD scored well for its checkout process and customer service, as well as product pages, an area where scores were mixed.
Here's one of JD Sports' product pages, and it does follow best practice well, with some excellent product photos from different angles, as well as very clear delivery and returns information. I would make that call to action clearer though:
Trends from the survey
The best scores for etailers were in the search and navigation category, thanks to effective site search tools, clear navigation, and effective filtering and refining of results. The best performers in this category were M&S and HMV for site search, while New Look and Figleaves scored highest for navigation.
There were some variable results though, with the biggest customer bugbears being irrelevant search results and inadequate filtering and sorting options.
The biggest area of concern was in email customer service, where some response times are nowhere near good enough; just 29% of emails found a reply within 12 hours.
Comments (4)
Well done JD Sports!
Unless I missed something, report did not actually show how many users took part in this study?
Four out of the top 20 use IBM's websphere commerce (including JD), so technically there should be no big difference in how their onsite search, navigation or how the checkout process functions.
I thought Woolworth's went bankrupt 18 months ago? Do they still exist on line?
Hi Darren - The Woolworths brand was bought out of administration by ShopDirect (Littlewoods)
There can be quite a significant different between between each sites Search and Navigation depending on if the clients sites uses just the base eCommerce application or integrated best of breed offerings. Well Done to JD