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Friday, June 7, 2013
Feudlings Review
Nothing makes a new school suck worse than discovering the guy you're in love with is your prophesied nemesis.
Ari is the most powerful flame-throwing sorceress ever, and her people's last hope in an ancient war. But she's also a seventeen-year-old girl, and in her free, not-hunting-nemesis times, she jumps from school to school, trying to figure out regular people her own age and pretending she'll get the chance to graduate.
Shane lives a double life. He goes to school and masters the art of popularity, hiding the fact that he has a fate with a slim chance of his survival. He's destined to end a 300 year-old war by killing or being killed. He knows he's hunted by a powerful enemy who's not afraid to die. Only problem? He has no idea who that enemy is.
When Ari shows up at Shane's school, angry and sullen and determined to keep him at arm's reach, neither of them realize they are supposed to be killing each other, not falling in love. Until Ari does realize it, and she almost dies – by Shane's hand.
3.5 out of 5
Feudlings is the first book in the Fate on Fire series.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Time Thief Review
Peter Faa is a member of the Watch tracking down a murderer, and unfortunately, all clues seem to point toward his own estranged family of Travellers. Any of his cousins could be guilty, but which one? They're all experts in the art of stealing time...
After surviving a lightning strike, Kiya Mortenson is determined to get just one thing in her life right. And if that means taking a job as nanny to five pugs on a campsite in the Oregon wilderness, then so be it. It doesn't hurt that the job comes with some spectacular male eye candy, including her new boss's gorgeous grandson. If only she didn't keep having this strange sense of deja vu...
When Peter discovers his own family is stealing time from Kiya, all bets are off. While she may drive him crazy at times, it's clear that it's not just lightning that's creating some serious sparks between them. And he's not going to let secrets, lies, or a devious murderer keep Kiya from where she belongs: at his side.
3.5 out of 5
Time Thief is the first book in the Time Thief series.
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|Why are police so quick to absolve potential co-defendants of criminal responsibility?
However, in the Deryl Dedmon case, which I've discussed before, in terms of color-aroused violence, if a Black person or persons did what Dedmon and his friends did, then that Black person or persons would get the death penalty. There is absolutely no way that any participant present at the scene of the crime would be charged only with "assault."
However, I predict that Dedmon will not get the death penalty, much less his friends, because his skin is white and the skin of his victim is brown, and that is color-aroused injustice at work. It will depend, in large part, on the skin color of the jury, but even Black people have been taught to believe that a white life is more valuable than a Black one. Meanwhile, the Black prosecutor cannot be seen to be overly aggressive in this case, because he works in Mississippi. He might win the case in the national jury of public opinion while alienating his (all-white?) jury in Jackson, Mississippi.
I hear excuses being made by a police detective for Dedmond's friend who traveled with him, but there is no way a police detective would offer these excuses if the killer were Black and the victim were white. I can't remember seeing a case in which a police detective in one jurisdiction made statements that tended to lessen the possible criminal consequences of a defendant in another jurisdiction. Detectives are all on the same team, unless the prosecutor is Black and the perpetrators are white.
Moreover, even if Dedmond's friend wasn't present for the run-over, he can and should be charged with conspiracy to commit murder (there was an agreement when they began their trip and murder was a foreseeable result) and attempted murder (Dedmon's friend beat the victim) as well as murder (Dedmon's friend actively engaged in a concerted effort which ended in the foreseeable death of the victim.
The friend is known to have inflicted injuries that might have killed the victim even if the victim had not been run over. That's attempted murder, and the collusion with the murderer to effectuate the beating makes it murder outright. I think we can all agree that it wasn't necessary for Dedmon to run over the victim with a pick-up truck in order for the victim to die, as the result of a beating that both Dedmon and his friend engaged in.
A conspiracy is committed at the time of the agreement to commit a crime. Since the agreement is the crime, it doesn't matter whether someone who agreed and took steps in furtherance of the conspiracy later changed his mind, e.g. because he had to go to the bathroom, and was therefore not present when the conspiracy ended in the goal that was intended. All conspirators are guilty of conspiracy, even if some of them are in Australia when the conspiratorial goal, or the likely result of the goal, is "achieved."
It was likely that two or more people young adults beating one middle-aged man, over and over again, would result in murder, and people are legally responsible for the foreseeable results of their behavior.
A lot of white people took part in the conspiracy, agreeing on the demographic group of the victim and where the victim could be found, and that the crime should be committed right away. ALL of those people are chargeable with conspiracy because the all collaborated and colluded in the agreement to do an act which none of them might have done without the encouragement of the others. The fact that the police haven't released the names of these other individuals and that their criminal responsibility has been ruled out is yet another example of color-aroused injustice.
If the victim had been white and the conspirators Black, all of them would have been charged with murder and then one of them might get life imprisonment instead of the death penalty in exchange for testimony against Dedmon and the friends who were with him.
This case helps explain why Haley Barbour decided not to run for president. He had too many skeletons already and there was always the risk that something like this would happen when he was the nominated candidate and would be besmirched nationally, even if this murder was celebrated by whites in Mississippi.

subset: commoncrawl


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Tamoko was Sarevok's lover,[2] who did not wish for him to attempt to ascend to godhood and for that reason ended up being abandoned by him in favor of Cythandria.[citation needed]
Tamoko was under five feet (one and a half meters) tall, with smooth skin and physical strength.[2]
Tamoko was a native of Kozakura. She could not read Common and had trouble with the Kozakuran language.[2] She was born in 1350 DR in the Kozakuran isle of Mikedono. Her father sold her to the ninja Konishi clan.[1]
Tamoko was trained in the secret Konishi dojo in Chimotoge, becoming a ninja of renown. However, one day she was sent to kill a high ranking wu jen, but the wu jen was prepared for her arrival and managed to push Tamoko througg a portal to Athkatla in Amn. In fear both of the powerful wu jen and of the Konishi ninja for failing her mission, Tamoko remained in Faerun and started working as an assassin until, in Baldur's Gate, she met Saverok.[1]
- In Baldur's Gate, Tamoko is first seen with Sarevok at the beginning of the game, when the protagonist and Gorion are ambushed by them and two ogres. In the cutscene, Tamoko curiously casts a Flame Arrow that does minimal damage to the protagonist, prompting Gorion to tell them to flee while he kills the ogres and incapacitates Tamoko with a Sleep spell.
- The next time Tamoko is seen is near the end of the game, when she approaches the player's party with information about how to find evidence of the criminal acts of the soon to be grand duke Sarevok. She explains that she wants the player character to defeat him but leave him alive in hopes that, stripped of his divine ambitions, he may again become the mere man Sarevok whom she loves. She believes it is his tainted blood that has ruined him.
- The last time Tamoko is seen in the first game is when the player is approaching the temple of Bhaal that is the site of the final encounter in the game. Sarevok, angered at her betrayal, has sent her to die at the hands of the approaching player character, and she is determined to do so. By steadily refusing to kill her just because she is in their way, the player can show her they are different from Sarevok and thus convince her that his own attitude is more a matter of personal choice than she had realized. In this case, she will simply leave without a fight.
- In Baldur's Gate II: Throne of Bhaal, a different version of Tamoko is seen briefly when the player character has to face an evil version of themselves in the second test in the Pocket Plane. This evil version also has a party that includes a Tamoko that wields what appear to be a katana and a wakizashi. Sarevok's ending story also mentions that he went to Kara-Tur to bury the body of Tamoko, who was his true love.
- Baldur's Gate novel
- Baldur's Gate game
- Baldur's Gate II: Throne of Bhaal game
External linksEdit
- Tamoko article at the Baldur's Gate Wiki, a wiki for the Baldur's Gate games.
- ↑ 1.0 1.1 1.2 Philip Athans (August 1999). "Rogues Gallery: Baldur's Gate". In Dave Gross ed. Dragon #262 (TSR, Inc.), p. 73.
- ↑ 2.0 2.1 2.2 Philip Athans (July 1999). Baldur's Gate. (Wizards of the Coast), p. 11. ISBN 0-7869-1525-0.


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CutPrintFilm Podcast
About This Show
Brought to you exclusively by CutPrintFilm.com - The CutPrintFilm Podcast is a weekly podcast featuring in depth discussions about all things in the world of cinema. Hosts and film critics Jeff Rollins, Dave Costill, and Chris Evangelista review movies, share their picks of the week, and sometimes derail into complete movie hysteria. Tune in every Monday to join in on the conversation.Read more »


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Romy Schneider, Tina Chow and Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. Many of RARE vintage's fashion icon Goddesses have worn Chanel haute couture.
Why have so many fashionable and independently minded woman chosen Chanel? Maybe it is because in her designs there was boyishness and irresistible femininity. She worked with jersey, chiffon, silk ribbons and lace. There was also elegance and sweetness mixed with practicality.
Karl Lagerfeld, let's face it, does pretty much everything brilliantly. He keeps the House of Chanel relevant by making the old new. He has a sense of humor in his designs whether it is a more recent DJ inspired plastic, metal and jeweled necklace or a 1980s leather motorcycle jacket where the pockets evoke the classic quilted bag.
But he also does some of the most heart poundingly beautiful dresses. And if those dresses are ready-to-wear, they can be incredibly beautiful, but if they are haute couture, well, then you know you have died and gone to heaven because those are the pieces that make people cry from sheer beauty at the end of a fashion show. This really happens - grown men and women sob. Well, dry your eyes and take a look at our very beautiful , very fine, very this is what it means to be haute couture, midnight blue lace and organza Chanel dress.
Early 1980s midnight blue lace and organza gown. Size 4/6.


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This musical version of Cinderella by Rodgers and Hammerstein I remember watching all the time when I was little. Technically this was not shown in the movie theaters but on television in 1965 I have to write this up because it brought back so many memories for me. I only remembered bits and pieces from this but as I was watching it all the songs became familiar once again. The last time I watched this I think was eighteen years ago. Guessing by how familiar the songs were I must have watched this a billion times!
Watching Cinderella now I still love it but good lord was the acting and singing terrible! The only good actors were Ginger Rogers as the Queen, Walter Pidgeon as the King, Stuart Damon as the Prince, and Celeste Holm as the Fairy Godmother. Walters and Pidgeon were not in the movie too much but they were just fabulous. Rogers looked amazing and she was in her fifties by this time. I really wish Rogers and Pidgeon had been given a song of their own to sing, everyone gets to sing a song but them. I remember my mom always telling me that Damon used to be on the soap opera General Hospital and to this day she still likes to remind me haha. The sad thing is I remember seeing him on the show when my mom and grandma watched the show. Damon was excellent as the Prince he was very handsome and his singing was beautiful. Lesley Ann Warren was adorable but good lord was her acting and singing bad. Her singing becomes embarrassing at times she is so off. It was weird seeing her as this sweet young girl after being so used to seeing her with a drink or a gun in her hand running around a big old house in Clue as Miss. Scarlett. Celeste Holm was not bad she was a good actress but her singing was not the greatest.
The costumes were stunning and eye catching. Ginger Rogers and Walter Pidgeon looked amazing in their red costumes in the ball scene. Lesley Ann Warren's ball gown was gorgeous it was a perfect dress for a ball and then for a princess at the end. The colors of the costumes really capture your attention they are beautiful reds, blues, yellows, browns, and oranges.
Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella is one of my most cherished and favorite memories from when I was a kid. I can remember the joy of watching it and loving the songs. Watching the movie again I still have the same feelings, even though I know realize how bad the acting and singing are. The songs are so catchy and sweet you will no doubt have them in your head for days. I have "Ten Minutes Ago" stuck in my head for days.
Youtube currently has the movie available to view. It is available on DVD but I have never seen it go for less than seventy dollars on Amazon or anywhere else.


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My sister-in-law has birthday today. She has unwrapped her present, I have checked. When I asked for an idea for a birthday present, she wanted to have a pelmet for one of her kitchen windows to hang from the upper edge. There was then a LOOOOONG list of colours this pelmet should include. I think I managed to cram them all in.
The other present contained a pencil case/make-up bag, which was an alternative wish. As I had some ready made, I thought I would be generous and fulfil both wishes.
Here is the whole pelmet. Due its shape, it was quite tricky to get a picture of.
The details bit by bit
I know, I know. This pelmet is suitable window dressing for a five year old or somebody past fifty...I promise, this is very much her style. I was told to make an eye-catching piece. I don't think there is much to say about the techniques, the pictures say it all. If you have questions, please ask. The only new technique for me was couching used in the plant stem. It is made by sewing strings of embroidery floss onto the fabric. I used machine. A hand stitched would have been even nicer, but I was a bit short of time


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|Painted pots courtesy of Zara.
Last weekend was amazing. The weather was perfect for a trip to a greenhouse and the farmer's market. We picked up several herbs, strawberry plants, tomato plants, and some squash plants. I missed having fresh herbs over the winter, so I'm so excited.
We also bought some flowers to give my mother and grandmother for Mother's Day. I handed over two pots and some paint to Zara and told her to have fun. It looks like she did.
Ignore the steps that are badly in need of repainting.
|Herbs! Yay! And my amaryllis is coming back up. (I really thought it was dead.)
|My strawberry plants. I spray painted the cheap-o plastic pot.
|Strawberry blossoms make me smile.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love spring?


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PHOENIX — After nearly 30 years of growing and selling plants near the base of Phoenix's South Mountain on 32nd Street, Gardener's World Nursery is closing.
"It's bittersweet," said Sharon Petterson. "We're going to miss all the wonderful people."
Petterson had planned to retire with her husband, Gary, but after he died in February she started planning the nursery's closure. A liquidation sale is now underway. Petterson said she'll really miss the annual poinsettia festival.
"Twenty-eight years we did that," she said. "And, the community will definitely miss the poinsettia festival and the many, many beautiful colors we have grown."
While the nursery is closing, Petterson said she will keep Gardener's Eden, the landscaping side of the business.


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Three uninhibited, sadistic and robust women break a man's neck after a drag race and kidnap his girlfriend winding up in the company of a lusty old cripple and his mindless, muscle bound son in their desolate desert home. Russ Meyer's Faster, Pussycat! Kill Kill! outrageously subversive and suggestive with surprisingly sharp banter, amusingly animated performances and effective, relentless editing.
*** 1/2 out of ****


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Reference to Self in XAML
I'm always finding that I need to get a reference to the root element (this) in my XAML markup. If I'm in a situation that I can use a Binding, I can do something like this where I'm getting the Height of the current Window):
{Binding RelativeSource={RelativeSource FindAncestor, AncestorType={x:Type Window}}, Path=Height}
However, there are many times that I need a reference to the root where I can't use a binding. I really, really hope somebody will prove me wrong and show me there is a better way to do this that's already built in to WPF, but since I haven't been able to find anything, I added a MarkupExtension that uses reflection to get a reference to the private fields serviceProvider._Context._rootElement:
public class SelfExtension : MarkupExtension { public override object ProvideValue(IServiceProvider serviceProvider) { object self = null; Type selfType = serviceProvider.GetType(); FieldInfo contextFieldInfo = selfType.GetField("_context", BindingFlags.NonPublic | BindingFlags.Instance); if(contextFieldInfo != null) { object context = contextFieldInfo.GetValue(serviceProvider); Type contextType = context.GetType(); FieldInfo rootElementFieldInfo = contextType.GetField("_rootElement", BindingFlags.NonPublic | BindingFlags.Instance); if(rootElementFieldInfo != null) self = rootElementFieldInfo.GetValue(context); } return self; } }
Yes, this is a terrible hack using reflection to access private fields, and there's a good chance it will go away in a future version of WPF…hopefully because Microsoft builds in their own extension to do this properly. If you know of a better way, please speak up!
[Update: Microsoft addressed this is .NET 4]
Here is a new version that doesn't require reflection using the updated API in .NET 4:public class SelfExtension : MarkupExtension { public override object ProvideValue(IServiceProvider serviceProvider) { return ((System.Xaml.IRootObjectProvider)serviceProvider).RootObject; } }Advertisements
November 26, 2010 at 12:10 pm
1. {Binding RelativeSource={RelativeSource Self}, Path=Height} is enough.
2. if you still want to have MarkupExtension, the better way is to request IProvideValueTarget –
var target = serviceProvider.GetService(typeof(IProvideValueTarget)) as IProvideValueTarget;
var targetObject = target.TargetObject;


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Yesterday was such a beautiful, hot day.
Mr. Beatnheart and I have our tax appointment
on Monday morning at 11am.
This is a stressful time for us and we
so instead of doing them I did this ...
my latest addiction...making polymer beads.
I said to Mr.B.."can you imagine your parents
sitting outside together making beads?"
I mean really we are like a couple of kids.
These little beads are just so cool to make and
with practically instant results. I was able
to sit outside and roll these out, poked in the holes
and then rolled them on the concrete and then on
a old ratty sponge.
bake for 15 minutes...
I wonder if they would bake in an
Easy Bake Oven ? remember those.
I always wanted one but never got one.
Then the fun part. Painting them...
all of this is experimentation for me...I've never done it before...
haven't taken any classes...I do it like I do everything else.
I just do it.
Mr.B brought out bronzing powders and pastes and inks...
cool. I'm trying em all. I love the way these are turning out...
Maybee I'll make somepin like these with em.
So that is how I did my taxes. Today is Saturday.
Another nice day is predicted...
wish me luck.


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text: Virtual Tools for Biology Coming Soon Systems analysis creates new ways to study the body By Sam Gale Rosen, Newser Staff Posted Oct 25, 2007 5:00 PM CDT 0 comments Comments Systems biology could have a great impact on the future of medicine. (AP Photo/ Courtesy of Dr. Perry J. Pickhardt/ University of Wisconsin Medical School) (Associated Press) View 1 more image (Newser) – Systems biology—an approach which involves reducing biological systems to their basic components and running sophisticated computer models of them—is poised to take off, reports The Economist. With virtual biological systems running on powerful computers, doctors and pharmaceutical manufacturers could speed the testing of drugs and avoid potentially dangerous reactions in patients. The holy grail of systems biology would be to build an entire virtual human body inside a computer. The European Science Foundation is trying to move closer to that goal by constructing a general-purpose virtual cell model that can be modified to all 220 or more types of cells that operate in the human body. View 1 more image


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Itc Windsor
Strategically located near to the historic landmark of Vidhana Soudha and just three kms from the business centre, this luxury hotel in Bengaluru is set amidst landscaped garden space. There are 240 guest rooms with Wi-Fi Internet access. This hotel which is well-equipped with state-of-the-art business facilities have also played host to SAARC conference in India. A range of five specialty in-house restaurants serves authentic cuisine while rejuvenation facilities are offered at Kaya Kalp Spa centre.
Check-in time : 12:00 NOON
Check-out time : 12:00 NOON


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--On August 15, 2008 1:51:37 PM +0200 tamarin p <email@example.com> wrote:
I'm trying to migrate a directory from OpenLDAP 2.3.x to an OpenLDAP
2.4.11 test installation.
My problem is with the backend transaction logs, though. These are
chucked out at a rate of approximately one per minute until the disk runs
out of space.
What flags are you using to slapadd? What version of BDB is your openldap build linked against? It's certainly worked for me to clean up the transaction logs while slapadding.


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My sponsor The Intrepid Thread is a family owned and run business. They carry Fat Quarters, Half Yards, Yards, and Yardage, as well as patterns and embellishments. Their designer fabrics include many of our favorites -- Amy Butler, Joel Dewberry, Anna Maria Horner, Riley Blake, and Aneela Hoey just to name a few! The owners work extremely hard everyday to bring their customers the best fabrics, at the best prices, with high quality customer service!
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The Prize!
The Intrepid Thread is generously offering this gorgeous custom bundle of tangerine, aqua & teal, and gray & black fabrics to one of my readers. That's nine Fat Quarters of these gorgeous designs!!! You can find this bundle in their shop right here, available in both fat quarter and half yard cuts. This bundle was inspired after Julie saw my Color Love post a couple weeks back. What a thrill it was for me to see a bundle named after me! Julie is the sweetest!!
Aren't they beautiful!
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That's 3 possible entries! Enter now through 10 o'clock pm (EST) Sunday, January 29th. I will announce the winner this Monday morning in a new post here on the blog.
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Thank you all and a huge thanks to The Intrepid Thread!!!


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Saturday, March 01, 2014
Israel Apartheid Week
What is Israel Apartheid Week? It is the week in which campus anti-Semites and Hitlerjugend in the Western world denounce the only country in the Middle East that is NOT an apartheid regime.
Who are the "Queers against Israeli Apartheid" or QAIA? They are a group of heterophobic anti-Semitic homosexuals who want to destroy the only country in the Middle East in which homosexuals are not routinely tortured and killed. In the same week that Uganda passed life sentences in prison for homosexuality, these "queers" will be attending Israel Apartheid Week events.
You probably heard about the "BDS" (boycott Israel) Hitlerjugend at UCLA breaking into tears when their anti-Israel motion failed to pass (see http://www.algemeiner.com/2014/02/26/ucla-bds-supporter-melts-down-after-student-council-defeats-anti-israel-resolution-video/ ). Note the young woman sputtering out curses in frustration that the UCLA student council refused to conduct a campus pogrom. Want to know what BDS REALLY really stands for? It is this: Buy a Douchebag for the Skank!
The UCLA initiative came from the "Students for Justice in Palestine." These are a group of people who are not students, who do not favor justice, and there is no such place as "Palestine."


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The Next Chapter in that book I was going to write - but now it's about the Captain and me, not ....what was his name?!
Friday, August 29, 2008
Based on my previous post, some of you are under the mistaken belief that I have abs. I used to have abs. As shortly as 1 year ago. Then I stopped doing my 400 cruches a day and got lazy and now I have flabby abs. To Go with my Flabby Butt. And my flabby thighs.
Things are getting pretty flabby around here. Thus my desire - my need - to join Mrs. G's Ass Project.
I will rediscover the Abs....
Enjoy your weekend folks. Mine started early with the Captain. And we're having a great time! BUFFET TOMORROW! YIPPEEE.....
Thursday, August 28, 2008
I Should Have Known...
There were sooooo many signs early on that my relationship with Ex was not quite right.
Like our first Valentine's day. He lived 300 miles away. I was in college. He had graduated. He would come up to see me every few weekends. In between we wrote letters Snail mail kinds.
And we talked on the phone when we could afford it. He was 5 years older and had a job.
So Valentine's was coming and he was coming up for a school dance. I was so excited. I spent weeks shopping for him. I was a pretty poor college student - I had to come up with my own spending money, which meant long summers and winter breaks working and saving and no spring break trips and waiting impatiently for that tax check to tide me over til summer again....
And I came up with a "theme" present - a present for every part of the day to remind him of me throughout the day. A coffee mug with "I love you" hearts on it - a big mug - for breakfast. A "good" pen (Cross pen - quite the extravagance in those days) for him to take to work, a Fairfield Key chain engraved with his initials for starting the car or locking/unlocking the house. A Fairfield sweatshirt to keep him warm as he did outside chores. And a personalized pillow case I found at a kiosk in the mall (I am so un-crafty and so un-artsy it is sad) painted with a sail boat (his favorite) and a scripted note on it "Sweet Dreams Ken, Love ME" I thought it was kind of a clever idea and was excited to give it to him.
He was totally non-plussed. To put it mildly.
He already had a pen. Why would he wear a Fairfield sweatshirt when he went to Va Tech? The keychain was too big and hit his knee when he drove. The pillow case was scratchy. He missed the entire theme.
I should have known - right then and there - that we would never really "get" each other......
Instead, I felt stupid and insignificant for thinking that such a dumb idea would appeal to a smart, talented, businessman. Sigh.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Ass Project Failure - or at least very false start...
1 week has passed since I VOWED to become a better participant in the ASS PROJECT. But I am still eating too much. I did cut down the drinking significantly (please ignore that wine glass on my left). I didn't do situps every day. I didn't even exercise every day.
Mid week (weeks starting on Wednesday means Saturday is midweek) I got inspired by Son. He's joined cross country. Which is perplexing b/c he HATES to run. Something about staying in shape for Rugby. I think it's peer pressure. Love it. Anyway, we went up to CT to see my family, and he wanted to "do a 5 mile circuit."
Whoa boy. I haven't run in 8 weeks since I wiped out my knee playing soccer. OK OK the Dr said I should be good to go by now. But let me put aside my hot fudge sundae, and I'll strap on those sneakers....
I woke up early Saturday morning and thought he would forget. But he was at my side by 930 a.m. (crack-o-dawn in teenagerland) bugging me to run. OK OK I strapped on the sneakers and prepared to run.
But wait. What's this? Son says we can't just run, we have to stretch first! Along comes Daughter, who shouts, "I declare myself Ruler of Stretching Exercises! I am Captain of the Soccer team after all!" So she makes us warm up properly.
So I get ready to run - but WAIT. What's THIS? Something about pushups and crunches and "PLANKS"
Son says before we run we have to do the exercise circuit - pushups and crunches (he is amazed at my ability to crush on those crunches) and PLANKS. Something about balancing yourself on your side and pushing up off the ground with just your 1 arm and your toes. Again, I do have abs so I could do that one.
We took off for my favorite 5 mile circuit - but after 1/2 mile my knee was screaming. After 1 mile I thought I was going to have to do the unmentionable and walk....
After 1.5 miles I was lovin' it.
Then 2 miles.
Then up the big hills while Son walked - 3 miles.
4 miles and Son announces, "I GOTTA POOP." We were still at least a 1/2 mile from home. I got him to a point where he knew where he was and he took off. I laughed to myself. He'll learn....
Anyway, I was excited about Saturday. I did almost 5 miles. And it felt good! So of course I would run again this week, right?
Maybe once?
Just a little?
Um nope. Here it is Wednesday again and I am sitting on my ASS. Isn't that what ASS PROJECT is all about? Sitting on your ass? NO? I'm supposed to be minimizing that baby?
OK OK. Maybe next week.
Because this week the Captain is in town - I did tell him to bring his sneakers so we could walk a lot. But we're going to Buffett on Saturday. that means Rum. Rhum. Lots of Rhum.
Sigh. I'm going to have this big ass forever....
Monday, August 25, 2008
"Caffeine Intoxication"
PLACE: Grandma & Pop's backyard, Pennsylvania
PRESENT: Siblings and cousins and a few brave neighors sometimes
Once or twice a year, mom would pile me and whatever siblings were available and drive us 10 long, tedious hours to my Grandparents' house near Pittsburgh. We started out with gusto, singing the "Pennsylvania Song" when we hit the border, but quickly peetered out when we realized we still had another 8 hours to go - PA is a loooong state when approached from the northeast.
But the trip was always worth it. Endless bottles - real bottles - of Coke awaited us in Pop's basement fridge. A little circa 1960's thing that was reserved pretty much for Coke bottles. Awesome. Oh and Dilly Bars from the DQ.
If we were lucky, our ohio cousins were visiting at the same time. JO, my age (ok ok 3 weeks younger) and Carol, my bro Flash's age (ok ok a year younger) would play hours and hours of millbourne as we got older and were the only 4 kids around. Jo is the youngest of 5 in her family, conveniently matched up in years with the 5 kids in my family and yep, I'm the youngest.
We had 2 cousins in PA, brother sister, but usually Jimmy was the only one playing. He matched my bro Flash in age.
But better than millbourne, better than a race down to Teckla's for penny candy that would rot our teeth (and God help you if you bought anything GRAPE. Grandma hated the smell of GRAPE!), the best was Hit The Bat. Get the bat, the wiffle ball, and out back we'd go.
It's a simple game, really. You pitch to yourself, hit the ball, while the rest of the kids scramble to get it. If they catch it they're up and you're out, back to the field. if they don't catch it, they have to roll/throw it at the bat that you've placed on the ground. if they Hit The Bat, they're up, and you're back to the field. OH but if it bounces up off the bat and you catch it? You're safe and still up.
Simple game, right? Sounds almost boring? But for some reason it wasn't. we'd play for hours. Trying to hit it over the row of hedges and maybe even into the next yard where you had to "sneak" over or the people would yell at you, and the batter thought that was hilarious. Hitting it so far the fielders called "relay!" and go to throw it to a partner who would hit the bat for you. And then there were the Pop Flys that somehow went backwards so that someone had to go out the secret door to Pop's bedroom and get up on the flat roof to retrieve the ball. That was the coolest. "OH but Grandma we have to go up there - we won't fall don't worry!" (Telling Grandma not to worry was like telling the Pope not to pray).
Simple games in simple times. And age didn't really matter - even when I was five and my brother TJ 16, we could all still play together.
And what jogs this memory in my mind? This past weekend I went up to CT for my nieces' 11th birthday and my sister K's "Annual" party. This year we had Special Guests. WildJim (aunt and Uncle) made the trip and are spending time with my mom and dad. Saturday afternoon, we grabbed the bat and ball and started up a game. We meaning yes Me. And my sisters. And the Aunt half of WildJim. So what if she's in her 60's! Oh we did let my kids play, too. For a little while. there was the shrieking, the giggles, the "RELAYS" and the shoving each other out of the way to get to the ball. Did I forget to tell you that Hit the Bat is a contact sport??
Thanks K and J and Wildjim for bringing back great memories!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Wednesday's Ass Project Update
of course I lack the nerve to take a photo of my butt in granny pants. But that's why Mrs. G. rocks so hard.
And since Ass project '08 started and I vowed to get back to my exercise and all? How have I been doing? well....
I have rediscovered Hot Fudge Sundaes and gained another couple pounds. I don't think this is what Mrs. G had in mind.....
I did make a photo copy for
OK SO TODAY I will really really really dive into the Ass Project. I can't let Mrs. G down! Or the Captain! By Next Wednesday when Captain Rainman Returns to my world to join me at BUFFETT (see countdown clock in sidebar) there WILL. BE. PROGRESS!!
Maybe I'll even take a photo...
VOTE! for my bloggy friend
- Just Jamie is a mom of boy/girl Twins (yeah we like that around here) who is a great mom and starting a new job and apparently has photo talents, too! So go vote for #13. She needs LOTS of votes people! (There are, admittedly, lots of great photos from which to choose. But Jamie Asked First!)
The Man Outside My Window
I like being here early in the morning. It's quiet. I'm wide awake. No phones ring. No people making loud noises in the hall. No one is here for me to wander around and get distracted by as I stop in their office for gossip. (I admit it - I'm bad about that).
I used to like being here at night for the same reasons: quiet, no phones, nose down and work. Except for the wide awake part that I enjoy in the mornings - at night I get sleepy. But still, very productive time here at night.
Until last week. Now I am either going to 1) jump out my window [darn it doesn't open] 2) call 911 and report insanity-torture in the streets or 3) drop bocce balls off the roof on the MAN DOWN ON THE SIDEWALK WHO BANGS ON THE #$*^(!*& BARRELS FOR HOURS ON END. Over and Over and Over and Over and Over and Over. same noise. Overturned Home Depot containers. Bangy-bangy-bangdetty bang bang. etc.
I used to feel a little badly for the "street musicians." And I usually give them money when I walk by. But the DRUMMER???!!!! Every night. (today he started at noon!!) Over and Over. And Over and Over. I do NOT give him money. I want to go stand in front of him and yell, "DO NOT ENCOURAGE THIS MAN!!!" He has tremendous staying power. BossMan says Drummer Boy must be on drugs to have that much non-stop annoying energy.
So why don't I just go home and work? Because I will get distracted there (Olympics, laundry, photos,
I keep thinking that eventually I'll tune him out, but NOPE he's still there. And I'm not one of those people who can put on background music and work. I am so A.D.D. Ugh.
So I will try for another hour to write with the incessant banging in the background.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Atlantic City Never Looked So Good
PLACE: Atlantic City
It was the annual Sistah Act Tour 2008. There was mayhem and gnashing of jaws prior to the big departure, but alas we all arrived in Casino Town safely.
First stop - THE BEACH. Oh I thought we'd never get there. 3 sisters, much luggage, a 2nd rate hotel = herding cats. The water was cold, the beach a bit shelly, but the sun shined brightly and I HAD MY SISTERS!
(This is us Saturday night - see below)
Friday night called for some gambling. I hate gambling. I don't understand the slots and I'm too cheap to play craps, which is the game I love and understand. So I followed my sisters to the slots where I dumped in $10, promptly lost with no idea why, then dumped in $5. And this is what I got:
Yep. 2 cents.
gone are the days of hearing the lovely coins drop down in the bin. Now you get a ticket to cash in. Nope, I didn't bother to cash in this one!
Day 2, more beach. 5 glorious hours of beach. With a little stop to the deli counter/24 hour liquor store. Some Captain Morgan in our cokes and we enjoyed our book, watching the funny people, laughed at ourselves and generally had a good time.People watching is great in Atlantic City (or any city).
This photo speaks for itself (oh yes, me and my silly cell phone camera, we were at it again. I am a little bit crazy I guess....)
Off to the outlets for some shopping. How many pairs of flip flops can one girl buy? As many as needed...and oh I needed.
um, I mean, I needed the flip - flops. So I bought a couple pair. Really. That's all I did.
Saturday night I learned how to play slots - We Three Sisters Played simultaneously. Kind of like playing basketball-"PIG" but with the slot machine: "You have to Push the button with the left index finger," or "You have to use the right pinky," or, a few drinks in...."You have to push it with your nose," and then, to test how many drinks we had and still had coordination... "You have to pull the lever with your right foot" (see photo above of sisters). Good thing I was wearing flip flops.....
Where to go in 2009? Only Time Will Tell....
PS I didn't get the tattoo. ...and it's finally out of my system. I don't even want one. Hear that? It's my mom breathing a sigh of relief and thanking God.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Lately, this is me...
And there's the work stress...
And sometimes, I think I'm just getting old.
But I wake up in the middle of the night, freaking out because of the very long to do list.
I never used to be like this. I LIKE sleep. Really. I do. But lately? I just wander the halls, wondering.... Am I becoming my mother? I love her to death and there are many ways I wish I could be more like her. But the whole sleepless thing? Nah, she can keep that one all to her self, really...
Thursday, August 14, 2008
My Daughter and the Olympics
And we're yelling our heads off for the American swimmers. Who are breaking world records left and right.
And in the race we're watching, the first and second place finishers break the old world record.
The commentators say how the first place finisher (I think it was Michael Phelps - probably) had the new world record.
And Daughter says, "How come they both don't have a new world record?"
wait for it....wait for it.
Son and Mom trying not to giggle too loudly...
Wait for it....
"OHHHHHHHHHHHHH, Forget I said that."
Remember, she's nearly 16 years old....
Monday, August 11, 2008
I had a FAB weekend as the 2nd Annual Sister Act Tour hit Atlantic city (translation: my sisters and I met there for a weekend. 8-8-08 had to be great! Last year we did NYC). Perfect sunny weather, great fun. Yes will blog more when I get photos...my digital camera died, so I'm countin' on the Sistahs. It took me 5.75 hours to get home, instead of 3.3 because of a mere hailstorm and tornado. I waited them out at a local pizza joint, ate some stromboli and watched Olympic badmitton and finished my book (yep, trashy strikes again). But I wasn't really in a hurry to get home, so that was ok. For once no deadlines there.
I get home with time to spare - time to clean up my whirlwind messes from last week's working marathon, put out the kids' new towels, make the place all nice and clean smelling for their arrival that evening, weed out the damned plant boxes up on the catwalk (see header photo - those pink boxes are hell and I'm never doing them again...yet another postfor another day), and I decide to unpack and do some laundry. This is huge for me; I like to put off the laundry. But something was telling me..."Go to the basement." And as I descended the steps, I thought, "Gee the basement seems damp and hot for a basement with a dehumidifier running......."
And I went into the laundry room - to see water on the floor. And hear water leaking out of my fairly new hot water heater..... first I cried. Yep. Just cried. The water heater is wedged up against the dryer (the dryer I hate that Ex picked out and installed a couple years ago - just after the water heater) which is wedged up against the old, ginormous side-by-side fridge that I hate being in the basement and loved being in the garage but got overruled by Ex last year so 5 boys hauled it down the stairs, giving my son a hyneria in the process and how it's there forever and I hate it, which is wedged up against the furnace.
Can I move the dryer away from the water heater to figure out what the hell is leaking? NOOOO. the washer is in the way at a 90 degree angle.
I cry some more. Lest you think I'm all "Wonder Woman" - nope after the long trip and weekend of no sleep, and admitting some honest personal decision flaws in my life to myself on that long, solitary drive, I'm pretty much tapped out.
Friend calls, I cry to him but only for 3 seconds because my cell doesn't get good reception in the basement.
Then I brainstorm and remember Son is home alone next door and make an emergency call to Mr. Son the Man (no longer crying). Some might think this twisted, but he really loves being the Man around here and knows I will listen to his advice (I heard through a secret source that Ex doesn't give him much credit in the problem-solving arena. I hope that will change. He's really his Father's and Grandfathers' kid in that area). We empty the fridge, move it a little, after moving the old metal "closet" with rags in it, move out the dryer, find the shut off lever for the water heater, but only after Son SHOVES the sink next to the washer before I can say DON'T so he disconnects the pipe that drains the sink and I have that mess to figure out, too.
And now I'm wondering why this fairly new water heater is leaking? and yelling inside my head, "I HATE THIS HOUSE I HATE THIS HOUSE I HATE THIS HOUSE."
And thinking this is what I get for "taking" the house and "making" Ex move out. OK So not true but at the moment I was wishing I were in a beachside condo in Florida already....
Drag my sorry butt up 2 flights of stairs for the 15 millionth time to the office to find the hot water heater paperwork. Yes it's under warranty but all that fine print about getting approval ahead of time. On a sunday night when the hotline is closed, uh-huh.
And I'm looking at the water heater and thinking the top of it looks a little funky. did it explode? Did the pressure valve not release? Or is that gunk up there normal? And I know that Ex would know by looking at it for 15 seconds.
So I make the call. Which he doesn't answer. Surprise surprise...
But eventually I talk to him and he agrees to come over and look. I tell him I don't want him to fix it or anything - just want him to look and see if the top is "normal" or not. "Because, you know, you installed it."
He arrives - and walks past the 2 dozen pink roses on the foyer table next to the Card my parents gave me - and does a double take. I let him.
As he walks down the basement stairs he comments, "You need the dehumidifier on down here" and I tell him, "I just shut it off when I discovered the leak" Pompous ass. like I don't know it's damp and humid in the basement? Duh.
And he is baffled by the sight. First thinks the pressure valve didn't release. then thinks it did. Then says nope it's just lime buildup. And the tank shouldn't leak. (Um no duh - I kind of figured that but then why is there a steady stream of water dripping out of the bottom? Oh yes I did get my sorry butt flat on the disgusting basement floor and shine a flashlight under there and slide a paper plate under there to catch the drips. i know it shouldn't be leaking but it is). So he tells me to call someone. Duh.
Check. I had already called a local hot water heater hotline. Have they called me back? Nope.
So here I sit on Monday morning, unable to take a shower to wash the beach grime out of my hair, waiting for a call to repair my hot water heater. Wondering why I left all that work sitting on my desk at the office and didn't bring it home.....blasting my carefully planned life all to hell and back.
PS Edited to add: happy to report that indeed old friend Brian, who has maintained the heating and air conditioning in our houses for 20 years, was able to drop everything and come out. Home Depot/GE honored our warranty and gave Brian a brand-spanking new heater with no fuss, well except that he had to drag the old one out there. $633 later, I have a new hot water heater, my furnace has been inspected, my air filters changed, and I feel better about everything. I must learn not to panic and to know that with a little time and money, all will be well....
thanks for the support out there bloggers!!
Now back to work for me...
Friday, August 8, 2008
The Last Time I was Me
A co-worker gave me the famous EAT PRAY LOVE, and told me I had to read it in a "you need this because you are going off the deep end" kind of way. Of course I was clueless to its fame before receiving it. After reading that I decided I was going to become a convert to meditation. When I have time. Uh-huh.
My assistant and I often trade books. She generally takes more time in searching and has much better taste that I do
Now Love Walked In was awesome. Made me laugh. Made me cry. A lot. But I loved it even if it gave me bloodshot, puffy eyes. So I was excited, in a self-inflicted pain kind of way, about Belong to Me. Sadly, her second book didn't move me like the first. My assistant was a little miffed that I didn't love Belong to Me.
So when My assistant handed me this:
I was a bit skeptical. Plus I don't have time to read much right now. I am ridiculously busy at work. It took me a while to read Belong to Me. And I had a painting project scheduled with the kids for the weekend. And, get this - she tells me it's a library book and she only has a week left on it! OK so I'm supposed to take it home and read a little bit and decide if I like it then try to find it elsewhere if I do. HA. sometimes my assistant is too funny for words.
It takes me 3 days to remember to take it home. I innocently picked up the book while waiting for Daughter's summer soccer something or other. And I'm hooked. Over the Painting Weekend I mysteriously disappear for
hours on end short periods of time where I read a chapter or two. I stay up nearly all night reading. I am laughing out loud. Crying a lot. Living in the book. I expect to look out my window and see the river flowing. I want to Bash "Slick Dick's" head in. I feel the drama, the sadness, the happiness, the hope. Wow. I haven't been this hooked on a book in a long time.
SO I return to work Monday with the book and put it on my assistant's desk. She comes in to my office, where I have my back to her and am working on my computer, and she shakily says, shocked, "Did you hate it? Why did you give it back?"
I turned around and smiled, "That was the singular best book I have read in a long, long time. I finished it. Thanks for giving me a great weekend."
Um, so yeah, I recommend the book. Just make sure you have blocked out time because you might not be able to put it down. And be prepared for the emotional roller coaster.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
It Was Twenty Years Ago Today
Well, actually, I'm not crying. But it is sad.
A while back some bloggers participated in reminiscing about their wedding days. There were funny stories, some great photos, and touching moments of love that lasted. It's no secret out there that ours (the marriage, the love - if there ever was any) didn't last. And one of the things that pisses me off about that? I had a GREAT wedding. Perfect. Truly. Yep it was August 6, 1988. Twenty Years Ago today.
These are my awesome parents who threw us the most perfect day. I was mom's 4th wedding, so she was pretty experienced by the time it was my turn. Thank GOD! I don't remember fighting about anything. She got a little upset at the price of the dress, but it was actually the deal of the century. Turned out to be a verrrry popular dress - they attended 3 weddings that year, including mine, where the bride had chosen this exact dress (including my future sister-in-law and oh that's a story all by itself....what a near disaster). She was so cool about everything - knew when to book what how and when. I just went along saying, 'Ok, OK" I had a few demands: the cake needed to have whipped cream icing, even in 100 degrees I didn't care. (I never did get a piece of that damned cake, except for the one we shoved in each other's faces). The bridesmaid dresses had to be blue, but I let them choose from about 20 dresses I had pulled out. (they still looked like ridiculous bridesmaids. Sorry sisters. And no I don't have a photo scanned and I have long since forgotten how to use my scanner....). I'm sure my Mom would remember more things I was picky about. But other than the dress, the cake and the blue, I don't remember much. She was da' bomb. (still is!)
The wedding coordinator called us "The Perfect Match." The Catholic church let us off the marriage encounter weekend in part because we scored near perfectly on the "compatibility test." i.e. we answered almost every question identically. After the reception and for a time after, The Country Club referred to our party as the "Smith-Jones Blowout" [duh names changed here to protect the innocent - and the guilty....]I was so happy. And so young. I remember the photographer trying to take a "serious" photo - one where I was contemplating life and looking out the window. I couldn't do it. The smile just wouldn't leave my face.
Sunny day - a little hot, but I like hot. Aunts and Uncles from far away came to join us, along with some awesome cousins. I had tables of college friends. Ex's college friends and his family made the 350+ mile drive to come to my hometown for the wedding. [back in the day people didn't have "location" weddings. You got married where you lived. Or at least my family did]
We did the big-ass church wedding. I opted for my oldest brother's church across town b/c it was 100 years old and completely spectacular. Plus Father Gene was so cool. He let me play "here comes the bride" even though most Catholic churchs say no - b/c Ex wasn't Catholic and I told him music was important to his religion.
I lied to a Priest, That was a stretch, but hey I got to play it. Yes, we got to play "contemporary" Christian music, too. My other musical brother did all the singing. Ave Maria (he kills me with that one - and sang a few other weddings after mine when the folks heard him!), the Wedding Song, and of course he wrote me a song that makes me cry every time I hear it, which, gee, just thinking of it now I'm blubbering like an idiot. "All Grown Up and Movin' away. You're not the little girl of yesterday...."
After the church we went on to the reception where it turned into a "guests vs. bridal party" show down. It started with the First Dance: The band played "Weekend in New England" (I lived there, he drove up on weekends from mid-atlantic to see me....) and while we danced, they made a circle and were doing funny head bobbing and swaying in the background. Funny. (I didn't know until I saw the video my brother-in-law did for us). It turned into war. The guests sang a song and did a routine, the bridal party sang a song a did a routine. We danced, we hooted, we (much to the mortification of my Mother who was trying to show the new Southern In-laws that we were all proper-like) danced on the tables and did the worm. Oh yes we did.
Then they decorated our car with so much stuff and put dried beans and fake spiders in all our luggage and rice everywhere and we drove off to the perfect first night. Then we got up and went off on the perfect honeymoon.
The name "Reggae" for the dog in the Memory Monday below? Because we won a Reggae dance contest on our honeymoon - we were the King n Queen mon - and we got the dog right after returning from our honeymoon.
Really, we did.
And when the girls in the office this summer were all talking about their weddings - seems to be have a wedding summer here - I remembered my wedding day. It was so perfect. SO Fun. And it pisses me off. Maybe some day I will remember this day without being mad.
Until then, I went out and bought myself 2 dozen pink roses, which I ended up getting free when the grocery lady rang up the wrong price (store policy means I got them free). And my parents sent me the most thoughtful, caring card because they are just like that. And I'm going out tonight with a client who happens to be in town and he happens to be one of the most outrageously funny guys (very happily married - I'm pretty sure, from the photos and the stories, I'd like his wife even better than I like him if I could meet her) so I know we will have a great time. And this morning when I was watering my new front lawn that I planted all by myself and Ex drove by with his windows down and pretended not to see me even though I waved and said Hi and all that, I just shook my head. And was glad that even though it was a perfect day for the 'perfect couple' 20 years ago, I know that today I am where I should be...
Monday, August 4, 2008
Reggae at the Helm
DATE: Spring 1995
PLACE: Spain ("home" at the time)
PRESENT: Dad (Now "Ex") Daughter (age 2.5) Son (age 2.5) Mom
SETTING: In our apartment, listening to a raging thunderstorm
Hold on to your hats people, this is a "Postive" Ex Story! Yeah, they do happen...
Lately, at work and at the blog, there's lots of talk about small children and their fascination with death as well as their fears in general. Our Memory Monday scene combines the two and lives large in my memory as a creative way to deal with both.
When we moved to Spain in January 1995, the kids were barely 2, we had a large, yellow lab "Reggae" in tow, and we lived on the 4th floor in an apartment in the middle of nowhere, Spain. Really: we lived far west of Madrid in the desert in a tiny town. Shortly after we moved in, we needed to take a day trip to Madrid to shop for house stuff (we didn't bring nearly enough and most of what we brought we didn't need and most of what we stored in USA we needed. Sheeesh). What to do with Reggae? She hadn't learned the art of peeing on the street like most dogs, and despite living in the desert, there wasn't a good place (aka grass, park, something) for her to "go." Ex came home frustrated with a dog who wouldn't "go," and it was time to get on the road. So we left her on the balcony for the day where if she had an accident, she'd be safe from ruining the marble floors.
About 10 minutes before we got back from Madrid, there were fireworks in town - Mardi Gras or something. Reggae's biggest fear? Fireworks. In her attempt to escape the fireworks, she leaped over the balcony wall to her death. (The wall was solid and she had no idea where she was). We came home to a crowd in the square below our apartment, where Reggae lay twitching. Yeah, it was awful.
Fast forward a couple months. The kids are still asking for Reggae (we had her when they were born, and she was their gentle jungle gym, their step stool, their blanket, everything). A thunderstorm is shaking the apartment building. The kids are crying and upset. Screaming about the Storm. Screaming about Reggae. And Ex says, "Your silly Dog is up in Heaven, sitting next to Jesus, playing with the controls! She's pushing all the buttons and making all that loud thunder. [crack of thunder]. Now watch - she's going to push the lightening button!" [FLASH goes the lightning]. And lo and behold, the kids stop crying. Now they're waiting for the thunder! CRACK and what follows? No tears, GIGGLES! "Oh Reggae you are so silly!" Daughter shouted out the window up to the sky. We sat by the window and enjoyed the storm, telling stories of how much fun Reggae was and how much fun she was having up in heaven with Jesus, "Pushing the buttons."
To this day when it storms, we laugh about Reggae, up in Heaven. Pushing the buttons.
Oh that all the problems could be solved so quickly.
You cut your toe you say?
Up until today I haven't really had anything funny. Most of them, not surprisingly, have to do with "ex-es" as in their birthday or some such thing. Nothing really hilarious. Oh and yeah the Boob post will bring up the occasional search.
Today someone found me with this, "I cut my toe on the side door how do I keep it clean."
I don't have a fancy site meter, so I don't know which post got caught in that search. I'm almost afraid to ask.
I hope whoever it was found the medical advice they need. Somewhere else. And perhaps at least got amused along the way!
Yes yes I know it's Memory Monday - that post will come later today. Or late tonight. for now, I just had to share!
Friday, August 1, 2008
Quick Post Friday
Daughter: If you're not supposed to give puppies and kittens milk, does the mother's nipples have water in them?
Son: Let's go to the "God-ih-va" chocolate shop up there...
ME: Huh?
Son: God-ih-va (pointing).
ME: OH you mea-'Ga-DIVE-Ah"? (Godiva)
Please people -he's 15....and driving...and knows the name..


text:
Sure, it's one thing to scream at your baby "DON'T YOU STOP BREATHING" as they lay dying in the backseat of the car which is hurdling towards the hospital at breakneck speed.
It's another thing entirely to write about it.
It's one thing to feel your child take his last breath, give CPR to him for forty minutes, and then plead with invisible forces to bring him back as you hold his suddenly still body for hours.
It's another thing completely to share that.
For some, the writing starts as a form of therapy, a way to process, vent, analyze, cope. Sometimes it takes on a new form; one that was unexpected. The words which were so hard to string together are suddenly making sense to someone else. This person is a stranger, but they share with you their intimate thoughts and thank you for your words. They may have even found them helpful. Your words, your process, your pain. Helped someone else!
Someone may write to you to tell you that you reminded them to kiss their babies an extra time that night, to hold them close, to read them just one more book. To be grateful for them.
Once upon a time, a mother with too many tears, a mother with very few ties to a normal life left, needed to reach out to share the son who had just died. She was afraid he would be forgotten, and wanted to share the year of his life, and the time passing after his death. She joined some email groups. Groups which were full of other bereaved mothers and fathers and anger and fear. Military losses, murdered children, and the babies and children like hers. All gone too soon. Everyone reached out, every parent reached for a hand to pull them out of the shitty quicksand into which they had fallen the day they walked away from their breathless child. Nobody could save them. Nobody could save her. They were all in the quicksand together; not one of them had the energy to save another. They told their stories over and over, and received more silence. They could only read about how another child had died, how the little girl had accidentally wrapped herself up in the window blinds cord and strangled, how the mother helplessly watched her husband run over her baby in the driveway in his raised truck as his stereo blared and she screamed. They could only gasp and sob more and run up to check on their living children and cut all the goddamned windowblind cords.
After I realized I could no longer let my three year old out of my sight and forced her to accompany me to the bathroom every single time, I figured out that these email lists were not helping me, not one bit.
Once upon a time, a mother with too many tears decided to write a blog. She did not understand the rules, courtesies, or mechanics of The Blog, but she wanted to write. She needed a place to write it all down, the words which made no sense while they swirled about in her head, looking for an exit. She started to write about her pregnancy, and that was fine. She wrote about baby names and funny little stories which her daughter would provide, and this was also fine. But then she wrote about her son and his death. Nobody commented, but that was okay. She wrote it for herself. Then she wrote some more about him and how, in the aftermath of his death, it was difficult to cope with the stupid things people would say. She wrote about her feelings of loss and hopelessness.
Suddenly she created a stir. She must have offended someone or six, because she was put right in her place by the
She thought seriously about quitting this whole writing gig.
That mother had skin which had been thinned by the loss of her child, and could not, at that time, access her quick-thinking responses, so she deleted these comments and then closed anonymous comments on her blog. Even though she had closed the anonymous comments, she was still hurt by this revelation that she was a big downer, and just took a break from writing about her dead child. She looked for others writing about their dead children, but found nobody. Actually, not true. She found many women writing about their miscarriage losses, but however multiple or far along those miscarriages were, she felt separated from these women. She had experienced miscarriage firsthand before, and since losing her one year old child, the separation felt too wide...these were the stories of the loss of a dream, while she had lost an actual, living, breathing child. She found nobody who had taken the risks to describe their own losses and trials and how they got the fuck through it. Nobody who talked about their dead child in terms other than 'angel babies sliding on the rainbows of heaven', not that there's anything wrong with that...it's just...not...me.
So yeah, that mother is me. Was me, and still is me.
One day, with thickened skin and on a whim, I turned the anonymous comments back on. My friends were still reading and supporting me; even some strangers. It had been a while; and I figured I could handle it. I understood what a troll was, at least.
I decided to try and trust the internet again.
Some of the first anonymous comments came in, and they went something like this: 'I wept when I read your story/ My own child died and my family doesn't understand why I cannot get over it/ Thank you for sharing your thoughts on hurtful platitudes, I will put more thought into the words I say when I know not what to say/ Thank you for reminding me to cherish my children...' etc.
I was astonished. But gobbled it up. The internet did love me! I loved the internet and it was actually loving me back!
Around this time, I discovered Tanis. I laughed til I cried. Then I discovered her archives. I cried til I laughed. And when I read about how she started writing about losing her Bug and went from feeling cold and alone to warm and cyber-hugged and surrounded by supporters when she shared her story (and his), I cried.
I cried for myself. I had a big old pity party and wondered why I sucked so bad that people actually took time to reach out and tell me that I was depressing. And why didn't I go on prozac and get a therapist and shut up? (That last one, with a few years between us as distance, is the funniest one to me - since I did see a grief counselor for six months after Elijah died...until she suddenly died.)
I loved Tanis from the beginning, but I was insanely jealous of the fact that she got the big hug. Of the fact that her writing was accepted, her process was acceptable, and she was lovable. Of course when I met her last weekend, I had to pour my heart out to her and apologize for my misplaced (and to her..umm...invisible?) jealousy. At least I felt better. (And I re-directed my jealousy to a more appropriate arena, like her hot bod and consistently photogenic face.)
I had an interesting conversation about this with a far more seasoned (spicy, even) blogger friend last weekend, and she made me feel better with her enlightened take on it. She saw a shift over the years, from primarily troll commenters, to primarily groups finding each other and supporting each other. Wow. Simply bad timing on my part.
I got over it, obviously. I rarely get comments like that anymore when I write about Elijah, and I do feel the hugs.
I feel supported and I take the strength that readers offer me. I don't pray, but I accept prayers.
There is a huge gift in the realization that, when I woke up yesterday all FREAKED THE FUCK OUT, I could write, share, and get that damn hug I needed.
Thank you. You inspired this post, and this list.
I am starting a new links list on my sidebar.
A list of bloggers who are writing about loss as well as what they have. Parents who have lost children. Writers who write about smelling the flowers and wading through the piles of shit. Sharing their paths of grief and finding their way back to living a life.
They may need your support, or you may need theirs.
Find each other.
If you know of anyone who should be added to this category, please let me know, and I will.
To start with, I have:
Turtle and Monkey
Tanis, at Attack of the Redneck Mommy and Missing My Bug
Loralee, of Loralee's Looney Tunes
Kate, of Sweet/Salty
and co-founder of Glow in the Woods
Julia, of I Won't Fear Love


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Talia Gryphon has achieved something that no other person in all of the urban fantasy genre has – a level of superhuman badness, of truly execrable putridity, of plotless porny stupidity that truly boggles the mind. She takes every single cliche imaginable and crams them into a Mary Sue story about her foul heroine's swamplike netherbits.
Not only does she write a spectacularly terrible story, but she achieves levels of sheer horrendous ineptitude that surpass virtually everyone else in the genre, including the reigning queen of terrible vampire fiction, Laurell K Hamilton. Nothing about this book is even tolerable.
Truly, we are in the presence of a master.
- Key To Conflict Chapter 1
- Key To Conflict Chapter 2
- Key To Conflict Chapter 3
- Key To Conflict Chapter 4
- Key To Conflict Chapter 5


text: My last Piston experience was a near disaster. Game two against Orlando was much better: great seats, lead changes, controversial calls, clutch jumpers, 'Sheed yahooliganisms a victory and free pizza. Aaron was loud enough and commanded enough attention to be on the receiving end of a small Domino's pizza. A great night


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Thursday, July 29, 2010
6 comments:
Damn! A couple of barbecue pits! Traditional and new age.ReplyDelete
This comment has been removed by the author.ReplyDelete
Could be deep fryers for your whole turkeys... or that hatch could lead to the key to esoteric knowledge about the creation of the universe. It's hard to know... spReplyDelete
I have been to Lost, but I also have been to the Azores. In one of those islands(São Miguel)they have a traditional plate - "Cozido de Vulcão". They dig deep holes in the ground, put a mixture of beef, spices and vegetables in a deep pan and leave this pan in the hole. After some hours it's cooked - the heat that emanates from the volcanic terrain gives a delicious flavor to the food!ReplyDelete
Hmmm... barbecue... cooking... Hmmm.... creation of the universe...ReplyDelete
This needn't be an either/or propositon!
Yes, Rick, I can see a definite correlation.ReplyDelete


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So today is the 15th anniversary of that infamous day. A day that many Americans remember living through. For me I guess I now know what the generations before feel like with the end of the World Wars and the bombing of Pearl Harbor. I've watched the generations after me not understand why we are somber today.
If you have read this blog, you know that my brother, being the smart ass he is chose 9-1-1 as their wedding day because it was a Saturday and well everyone will remember the date. Last night we were out to dinner and my 14 year old niece said, "why did you pick 9-11 for your wedding?" Both my brother and I responded with it was a joke 9-1-1 to which she said "you didn't think the terrorists would think the same thing." In her innocence and being the first group of kids to have not been alive when 9-11-01 happened makes the statement funny, but it also says something about how her generation has grown up. There has always been talk of terrorists, what they did and what they will do and when will they do it again.
I don't know if it's because I'm old or just emotional anyway, but today was the first time I nearly cried during my pastor's homily. Maybe it was the fact that 15 years have past, that I had just watched the picture of Dennis McHugh scroll across my tv; maybe it was finally realizing that his parents are with him and his mom got her wish of having a body to bury. I guess the focus has always been on the sacrifice of the FDNY that day, they did lose 343 souls from their ranks. I guess because John Gallagher's Mass was a memorial Mass, that I don't think about him as much which is odd, because I actually knew John, well I was Peter's little sister so everyone knew me, but I do remember being in their apartment/house when I was little. John's body was not and never will be recovered as he worked for Cantor-Fitzgerald and he was hopefully gone in a few seconds.
Tonight we watched the CNN special 9-11 Fifteen Years Later. The film maker spoke of seeing people on fire walking past him and I went immediately to the memories of the fire at Seton Hall. I often wonder what in the world possessed me to go wash my car 15 years ago, but I really think it was the Holy Spirit saving me from having those images burned into my brain. I have a very vivid memory and I rather tell the silly story of I was washing my car instead of saying I was watching TV like the rest of the world.
My family has happy memories of 9-11 as yes it's the day my brother got married, without that wedding I don't have a niece or nephew acting like goofballs making their family laugh. So yes 9-11 holds many memories.
My cousin by marriage (she's still a cousin) shared a picture of her husband (then boyfriend) from ground zero on facebook and it made me think. Maybe it's because they are both close to retirement that I look back and say, dear God, that could have been us. I watched NYPD funerals and said, that family could have been us. I forget that I know a good few first responders, many of whom were in NYC 15 years ago. Maybe that's it. I lived through the day, saw the aftermath, watch the smoke billow from the towers stood. Yes there is a giant building there now, but it's not the same and nor should it be. I guess like the rest of NY that was here that day, we've moved on, still standing, still fighting, still knowing we are a target, but also giving a big ole classic F-U to the terrorists.
That fight isn't won, and it won't be while we still fight. the irony of my f-u and moving into the idea of peace isn't lost on me. My pastor spoke of how the stories in the Gospel today spoke to us about how peace is what is needed in the world and yes that is far easier said than done. I did find his comment of once the US beats you in a war, we are the first to offer an hand to help you up. He's right we'll kick your ass and then help you clean up the damage we did. I remember a good few years ago a chaplain from West Point saying "you have no idea what Iraq is like, it is better off now." From studying scripture and other religions it's clear that war is never the answer, but Jesus' idea of peace is.
I know 15 years ago we were all go get 'em, get the bastards. 15 years later we're still fighting terror and neither side is winning, but I'd like to think our side is on the winning side.
May those who died 15 years ago continue to rest in peace, and may God continue to bless our first responders, military, fire fighters, police and EMTs.


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- Revealed: How to support someone through grief
Revealed: How to support someone through grief
Written by listed counsellor/psychotherapist: Graeme Orr MBACP(Accred), UKRCP Reg. Ind. Counsellor
24th March, 20160 Comments
Often in our society people recoil from grief. Perhaps being unsure what to say or fearing saying the wrong thing. Yet being a companion to someone who is suffering loss and grief can be one of the most helpful things to them as they learn to accept the changes.
How do you be that support or be that comforter, when it's hard to know what to say or do? How can you help when you know that you cannot take away the pain or give them what they truly want? Major loss, like death, is one of life's most difficult experiences. It can leave us feeling alone and isolated in our pain. Yet you can reach into that world and be a companion to someone and make a real difference to how they cope, if you remember some simple steps.
Listen to the person, ask the person about their memories and their feelings about the loved one. You don't have to have answers, the reality is that it is important that they have someone there and that they are listening without judgement. Tears can make people uncomfortable, yet often they are a good way to release emotional feelings, so be prepared for them and accept that the person needs to cry to cope at that moment and you should not try to stop them.
We often say at times of crisis, "If there is anything I can do, just let me know". The grieving person may find it helpful if you suggest actual things that you could do with, or for them. "Could I get messages in for you?" or "Could I take you out for coffee?" and so forth. Remember that they are struggling with huge changes and making decisions can be difficult, so this takes the pressure off them to decide what they need.
We all worry about what not to say and high on the list is anything that starts "You should…" or "When I …". If you want to make suggestions, think about using phrases like, "Have you thought about..." as this offers an element of choice, so that the person can still walk away and not feel they have to explain. Similarly, don't try to fix the person's grief - "time heals all" - you can't know this and they may start to feel bad if they are not 'getting better' quickly enough. Everyone has their own way of grieving, there is no timetable and no fixed process.
It may be that they feel they need the help of a grief counsellor, yet remember that getting over a loss is difficult, so it can take many months. For the first year they will miss them at all the anniversaries of things they did together. Be a companion along the way supporting your friend's choices and thoughts as they come to an acceptance.
The reality is that we can all be a good support for someone who is grieving. The real secret is to try.
About the author
Graeme is a counsellor and author living and working on the south side of Glasgow. In his practice he sees a number of clients with emotional, anxiety and self-esteem that have relevance to us all. His articles are based on that experience and are offered as an opportunity to identify with, or to challenge you to make changes in your life.
Related articles from our experts
- Mental health - emotions and the effect on the body
Angela Collinge23rd June, 2018
- Grief - our own personal experience
Step1Counselling. Isabel Fulcher Registered MBACP18th June, 2018
- Coping with bereavement
Cate Campbell MA, MBACP (Accred), MCOSRT (Accred), MAFT3rd June, 2018
Counselling Directory is not responsible for the articles published by members. The views expressed are those of the member who wrote the article.


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When I was asked to make an Angry Birds themed birthday cake I wanted to say yes, but in my head all I was thinking is "what the hell is Angry Birds?" I'm usually pretty knowledgeable about what's "cool" but all I knew about Angry Birds was that Mike Tyson made a video about how to overcome your Angry Birds addiction. It's hilarious. You're welcome.
I asked some friends and learned that Angry Birds is a video game. At least I think it is. All I know is that you can play it on your cell phone, and I think on your computer through Facebook. In the game angry birds are trying to protect their eggs from green pigs that are trying to steal their them... I think. You can see that my research was very extensive. All I really needed to know for cake purposes was what the game and its characters looked like. Thanks Google images!
I was given about a week's notice for the cake, normally I prefer more notice, but I took it on anyway because my schedule would allow. There was a certain cake that I would have loved to try to do, but I just didn't have enough time. I looked through the images Google provided for me and came up with one that I thought was simple enough that I could get done in the amount of time I had, but it would also look cool to a 6-year-old. Kids are the toughest critics.
Making this cake was my first experience of having to really shape a cake because I wanted to make one layer of the cake look like the main character in the game. If you haven't already figured it out, I'm now an Angry Birds expert (not true). The base of the cake was going to be made up of 2 10-inch square cakes and I thought if I also made the top layer of cake there would just be way too much cake. Since I thought it would be easier to carve and shape, I made the top "bird" layer using 9 x 13 pan of rice krispy treats that I cut out into the shape of the bird. Then I just covered it with fondant and decorated to make it look like the main character. It worked out perfectly.
This was also the first time I used all my own fondant, meaning I made it and I colored it. In the past I've only done cakes where I've needed white fondant so I don't end up needing to color it. If I do need any specific colors I just buy the Wilton packages that have 4 colors in them and use those. They have a pretty good variety. However, the Wilton packages didn't provide enough quantity of the colors I needed in one package. Since it was cheaper (all about saving a buck!) to color it myself than buy multiple $10 packages of pre-colored fondant, I ventured out on my own and gave coloring fondant a try. I made the fondant one day, and used the Wilton jars of food coloring gel (they're awesome) to color it the following day when I was going to decorate the cake. While it's hard work, coloring the fondant worked out really well, it also worked out my forearms. Hooray for multi-tasking.
Putting the cake together was fairly simple. The hardest part was just working out all the decorating details on the bird. I used Wilton tube icing (have I mentioned that I like their products?) for all the black detailing, which was the most nerve-racking part. I was in the home stretch at that point and didn't want to mess up. I did a couple of practice runs on a paper towel until I felt comfortable (piping icing always makes me nervous) and went for it. I loved it, and Colby did too.


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If you take a lot of digital pictures (I have 7000 images on my laptop right now,
and lots more archived), you spend lots of time copying files across to your computer.
Most cameras come with USB cables, which aren't really that useful.
My preferred solution is a CompactFlash
PCCard adapter. You take the compact flash out, plug it into the adapter, and
slide the adapter into your laptop. At that point, it looks just like a disk drive,
as compactflash cards look like IDE drives. Easily copy the files across and delete
the existing ones, without having to use camera power. It's also a bit faster.
You can also get these for other storage formats.


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This is, of course, the former home of the History Carnival, and rather than abandon it to the spammers, I thought I'd recycle it. With the growth of the historical blogosphere to include new specialist carnivals, I decided that it was time we had our very own announcements blog. Of course, I don't want to do all the work myself, so I'm going to make this a group blog as quickly as possible.
The idea is this: one administrator of every carnival listed here can be a member of this blog. We post only three or four things here: Calls for Posts (usually about a week before the edition date), Calls for Hosts, Announcements of New Editions, and miscellaneous (but not numerous) administrative announcements. This gives everyone in the historical blogging (and reading) community a feed which includes just the historical carnivals, and all of the historical carnivals.
I'm open to suggestions for other carnivals with strong historical themes, particularly carnivals whose administrators want to handle their own announcements.


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Version 2.06 was released yesterday as an update. The update info somehow was for the 2.0 version. It is only a user interface update, with many "Back" buttons added as some users were getting stuck even with swiping.
I need ideas for more features to add!
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
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