P B & J ~ (poetry, blarney and jottings)

And the beat goes on and on and on ~

2011-09-30T21:43:00.001-05:00

As if living in a house that is still unfinished isn't enough ... I'm beginning to resemble someone on the show "Hoarders: Buried Alive". The kitchen cabinets STILL haven't arrived which means there is nothing in the kitchen except a temporary sink/counter, microwave and "hallelujah" a coffee maker!!!

I'm grateful for electronic connections and the ability to store a lot of different information so that I don't have to remember it ... however (comma)...there is a down side.

I dropped my android phone cracking the screen - rendering it useless in about 2 hours.

I got a new phone - thanks to insurance - and then the problem hit. Sprint was unable to transfer my contacts - which are backed up on gmail. No problem you say? Unfortunately, I listened to gmail and put the 2 step authentication on the account.

This process involves a program ON THE PHONE...which, of course, I don't have access to. I am now up to email 5 with gmail trying to prove that I own the #$& #@&* %&$$& account. Grrrrrrr. Hopefully, this last round will solve the problem.

But based one something their CEO said 3 years ago I don't hold out much hope:

"Mr. Badros argued that Google asks so little personal information of a new Gmail customer that it's hard to determine identity when the genuine user and the impostor both present themselves to claim the account, and neither can produce the verification. He said more information could be asked of users when they sign up, but the inconvenience would dissuade them from trying the service.

Mr. Gilbert added that proving identity with only minimal information is a problem, whatever form of communication is used to reach customer support. He said, "Even if they were standing right in front of us, it wouldn't help.""Stay tuned for information about the house ... and the email....

The House

2011-08-27T20:47:00.002-05:00

I'm still awaiting the photos from my daughter concerning the renovations going on to the house ... sigh! Hopefully, soon....

Friday, my picky and demanding contractor (AKA "the-son-in-law" had us meet at the house to make some final decisions about electrical placement, etc. I think I've mentioned that there were various 1" level differences throughout the house. That's simply a result of the house being sliced/diced over the years. While we were there the workers were trying to remove what we THOUGHT were stick-on tiles in the sun-rooms....they were not. whoever put the sun-rooms in had placed the tiles one the WET cement and pushed them in - making it literally impossible to take up. I'm not sure what they thinking about that was, or even if they were thinking.

Regarding tile - On Tuesday my daughter/son-in-law and I went and picked out tile for the house. One of the major changes involves putting the same color tile throughout the entire house. we had a plan A and a plan B as far as color was concerned ... no problem. On Wednesday, the tile man started calling the various stores to place the order. In the size of tiles needed (18" x 18" - 45.732 x 45.72 centimeters)it was discovered that in spite of being a highlighted for sale tile, not one single store here had enough tile. Some had 10 pieces (NOT boxes) another had 100 pieces, etc. My beloved son-in-law was ready to pull the hair out of his shaved head. Then one of the stores told him it could be ordered in delivered in - oh - three to four weeks. At this point my beloved son-in-law was starting to show signs of complete melt-down.

His tile guy looked at the back of the sample piece and literally called the plant where the tile was manufactured. He discovered that 1) the tile was manufactured in a plant about 7 hours from here and 2) if they were there the next morning they would load up ALL the tiles that had been chosen (tiles,boarders, edging, etc.) as well as all the grout and other things necessary to install them.

Two of my son-in-law's workers put his trailer on the back of their truck and drove - basically all night - and picked up the tiles and drove back to get them there to have the house tile finished this weekend.

However, I was informed Friday that I have been been place on "house restriction" - meaning that I am not allowed to see the house until Monday....

I threatened today to get into "drag" and visit the house incognito. My son-in-law texts back that when he finally stopped laughing hysterically - it wouldn't work. So, I promised that I would behave and NOT go to the house this weekend. And frankly with the temperatures and heat index being in the triple digits all weekend and much of next week ... I don't plan on going too many places at all...

More to follow - hopefully with more pictures!!!!!!

The House ~ continued

2011-08-22T22:13:00.004-05:00

After reading today of Mitt Romney's decision to bulldoze his "small" house and build an 11,000 square foot addition, I'm almost afraid to write about mine. It certainly isn't anything like his ~ but after all the years I've been paying money to apartment owners, it probably will feel like it!!!

As I've mentioned my Son-in-Law is doing all the destruction/reconstuction on the house. On Monday, I thought I would surprise him and his workers by showing up - unannounced. My good friend BW drove me to the house. I don't drive, but that's for another set of posts, dear friends. I was sure I saw his truck in the driveway along with all the other vehicles. We entered the front door and as I was pushing back the plastic keeping dust and such contained - I yelled out: "My moving van is outside, where do I put all my stuff?"

As we rounded the corner, I realized that 1) he was NOT there and 2) these folks had absolutely NO idea who in the heck I was. SIGH! Fortunately, I introduced myself quickly, and the ice thawed even more quickly. I was taken on a tour and shown what was happening, and what was planned. If it is possible, I became even more excited!!! S was the fellow in charge and he explained as much as possible. He had a couple of questions for me and we made our way over piles and piles of lumber, etc. It was obvious, the dumpster had not arrived yet....very obvious.

I felt as if I'd caused enough chaos for the day, and we left more quietly than we arrived...

Wednesday, my daughter and I met J at the house for further discussions about plans and such. Unfortunately, my son-in-law IS a contractor and just as in other professions, they speak their own language. Fortunately, S was there to translate - both directions I might add.

Friday, we had to meet there again and this time, the dumpster had arrived and the place looked less as if something or someone had exploded in there and more like a construction site. There were some issues that needed to have decisions - for instance, my idea for the master bathroom had hit the reality of the space. Not a big problem, but that took some time to talk out.

This is a picture of the bathroom I'm talking about. I decided it was the winner of the "world's worst bathroom" ... to give a point of reference, it will be almost three times the size it is in the picture.

The toilet was taped closed for the estate sale - for very good reasons, and I'll leave it at that!!

More later - and hopefully, I'll have some pictures of the destruction by then!!!

Dear Me ~ Part 3

2011-08-18T20:26:00.003-05:00

And so the re-construction began this week for real. I've gone a quite a roller-coaster of emotions about this purchase. Everything from "this is wonderful" to the to be expected "OMG ~ "What am I doing, have I completely lost my mind!!!!". Let it not be said that I do something like this quietly and with no outward show of emotion.

I also made it a point to talk to my children about this ~ and they were amazingly supportive, vocal in their love of the idea and more than willing to suggest way to spend the money!!! I've been living in apartments for so long, I'd almost forgotten about what owning a home is like ~ almost.

The house had been owned by one family since 1960. The Father has passed away a number of months ago, and the Mother wasn't doing all that well. The Son came a lived with her for awhile, and decided that she needed to move back to where he lived and worked. That's how the estate sale came to be. the son helped gather the stuff up for the sale, and then the next day, he and his Mother boarded a plane. They literally locked up the house and walked away....leaving in the process an incredible amount of things ~ including the contents of the refrigerator.

The head of the estate sale outfit has his phone number and we connected by phone. It was a very positive chat and then he had his realtor call me. Several phone calls later it was decided that it would NOT be a good idea for his agent to represent both of us - so another agent from the same office called me and we were off to the races!!!

The closing was two days before our beloved congress tried to drive the economy over the cliff - really good timing on my part!!

My dearly loved son-in-law is a contractor and is doing all the work on the house. He also has a lot of work to do for various franchise owners of a certain fast food outlet. Again, with them rolling out a new menu item requiring re-doing most of the kitchens in a rather short space of time, my timing couldn't have been better.

More tomorrow or Saturday. Until then here's a teaser pic of the start of the re-construction!

There will be a LOT more pictures of the mess of re-doing it all that I will post later. My daughter took them, and her camera does pictures that are HUGE HUGE HUGE! She'll get them to me, and I'll get them into a size that will fit....

Dear Me ~ Part 2

2011-08-15T23:36:00.005-05:00

The clean-up of the blog-house took a bit longer than I anticipated. You see, just as I was about to start blogging again ~ I bought a house. Yes, I finally have become part of the "landed gentry". Alas, it's not a fiefdom with hot and cold running peasants, but a charming "mid-century" (that's estate sale-ese for 1960's) house.

One of my dearest friends, I'll refer to him as BW works these sales. He called me one day and basically said: "You've GOT to see the cra...stuff for sale at this place". I've been to these with him before and a lot of times, it really is ... um ... uh ... stuff that should have been done in a yard sale/garage sale. But, getting to see it is getting out of the apartment. He arrived, and off we went.

I've been in literally dozens or more houses over the last few years ~ all types, styles, sizes and shapes. (Hmmm, that somewhat reminds me of my dating pattern!) I was NOT prepared for what happened when I walking into THIS place. My poor friend was trying to get me to look at things for sale and I'm saying things such as: "Wow, that's an impressive sun-room", "This must be the hall to the bedroom", "Good Lord ~ THAT toilet is nasty!", "How long did they live here?", How much are they asking for it?"

The price his boss had told him was amazingly low AND amazingly inaccurate! However, the real price was not out of line with the neighborhood and what the place was worth.

I'll be back probably tomorrow, and start the saga of this house - the purchase - in inspection and, since demolition on the interior started today - the story of the changes to the interior.

Until then ~ here's just a couple of teaser shots for you ....

Dear Me ~

2011-06-11T12:26:00.003-05:00

Good Heaven's, it's a little musty-dusty in here. Well, give me a day or so to get things cleaned up - straightened up - back in order. It's time for me to pick this up again ....

ACK ~ Sometime In The Evening Thoughts

2009-07-21T17:43:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry ~ I know I said that I'd be back with more of the Shakespeare Experiment on Sunday . . . let's just say it will be tomorrow before I have a chance to sit and write ...

In the meantime .... how about some humor (humour) to pass the time???

Do you think this might catch on??

And this should keep people busy for a bit ....(I am not responsible for broken keyboards .... I'm just saying ... )

Without comment ....

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (5) ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2009-07-17T20:03:00.001-05:00

--continuing from night before last and posts prior

So,leaving the awe-struck Julius Caesar cast behind as they work on the Parker Hall stage, let us pick-up a bit on the star-crossed cast of Midsummer Night's Dream.

The problem with Shakespeare at any time and any of this plays is quite simple. In the comedies (and portions of the tragedies) he is quite a ~~lewd~~..uh..~~crude~~..um..~~socially unacceptable~~..OK...earthy writer. One of the joys of teaching Shakespeare in High School is that the students absolutely "get it." Many parents, School Boards and even some English teachers fall into the trap of placing an aura around The Bard.

Yes, he did manage to write much that was tremendously powerful and amazing lyrical poetry within the structure of his plays and theater, as well as his sharp, unerring and amazing understanding of power, people and life ... however ... and it's a big however ... the "groundlings" and even those in the boxes had so much competing for their attention outside of the theater that he had to make sure they were completely entertained in a manner they were accustomed ... raunchy, ribald humor at that!!

Once a student discovers that aspect of the plays ~ the hunt is on! And I absolutely pity any teacher who has no idea just how raunchy and ribald Shakespeare can get trying to handle a class full of "hormones in tennis shoes" reading the comedies...or discovering the meaning of "the two backed beast" in Othello.

On of the advantages I had in my High School Shakespeare Tragedy classes was that I knew what was ahead. And I basically headed it off at the pass. My classes were so busy with themes, character work and dramatic archs - or lack thereof - that while I was unafraid to acknowledge their "amazing" dirty joke discoveries, I'd pull the discussion back to the matters at hand.

To me, his ability to write low and high-brow in the same play was nothing more than another example of his intellect and writer's gift. OK, it also was a tribute to the ability of the acting company at the time to adapt some of what he wrote - but as far as I am concerned, most of the work was his. And also, his ability to write wonderful humor that people in his day would understand, but not let it get in the way of what else he had to say, is nothing short of awe inspiring to me. And remember, he did have to be careful of what he said, lest he get into political trouble ~ which did occur upon occasion.

So now, as I faced adapting one of his wildest romps to an age appropriate level, the teacher and I did decide to play on the "aura" that surrounds his plays. I made the more obvious deletions and took some of the "in" out of the wilder "innuendos." And as far as the more subtle things? We took the course of ignorance just might be bliss, and quite forgivable.

I'd mentioned that one of the biggest problems was Bottom's line about "a man would be an ass." The was just one word that, for whatever reasons, had to either go or be changed. We tried all sorts of things. We tried leaving it out ~ big hole to anyone who knows the play. We tried using the word donkey ~ that just didn't even elicit a giggle from anyone.

As I mentioned before, when I was left in the hospital with my arm hanging straight up, the answer came to me and quite frankly it had been staring me from the page the entire time. When I told the teacher my solution, we both laughed. When I shared the solution with the person playing Bottom, I was rewarded the one of the deepest guffaws I've been blessed with in all the plays I've directed.

The passage in question ~

BOTTOM ~

[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will
answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho!
Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout,
the tinker! Starveling! God's my life, stolen
hence, and left me asleep! I have had a most rare
vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to
say what dream it was: man is but an ass, if he go
about to expound this dream. Methought I was--there
is no man can tell what. Methought I was,--and
methought I had,--but man is but a patched fool, if
he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye
of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not
seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue
to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream
was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of
this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream,
because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the
latter end of a play, before the duke:
peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall
sing it at her death.

The way we adapted it ~
BOTTOM[Awaking] When my cue comes, call me, and I will
answer: my next is, 'Most fair Pyramus.' Heigh-ho!
Peter Quince! Flute, the bellows-mender! Snout,
the tinker! Starveling! The have gone away and left me asleep!

I have had a most rare vision.

I have had a dream, past the ability of man to
say what dream it was: I thought I was-- I thought I was,--and
I thought I had--but man is but a complete fool, if
he will say what I thought I had...If any man tries to tell this dream, he is but an (he reaches up and feels for his missing ears - then shrugs at the audience.)
The eye of man has not heard, the ear of man has not
seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue
to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream
was.

I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of
this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream,
because it hath no bottom; and I will sing it in the
latter end of a play, before the duke:
peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I shall
sing it at her death.

There were other people who were involved in getting this play ready for performance.
The 4th grade class decided (on their own I might add) to take on the project of doing the scenery for Midsummer Night's Dream. This consisted of burlap type fabric tubes that could be used for columns at the various interior places in the play ... they would be able to be raised and lowered ... and a delightful enormous burlap tree (cut-out ~ based on the school symbol "The Lyre Tree) that was painted and decorated, which would suffice for all the forest scenes. This could also be raised and lowered. The raising and lowering was not as smooth as a Broadway or East End production, but they were incredibly pleased anyway.

--more Sunday.

I will be attending Gamer Musicon 90 at the Symphony tomorrow which consists of two different concerts using music from on-line and Xbox/Playstation games and various vendor demonstrations of new games. There are also two panel discussions with people from Blizzard and such. It will be fun and quite long. The first concert starts at 3:00pm and the second at 7:30pm ~ this concert will end at 10:00pm. I will end most likely shortly after that!!

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (4) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2009-07-14T21:56:00.000-05:00

--continuing from night before last and posts prior

As I said, there seemed to be a battalion that came and got me out of the bushes and up the side of the path (a nice, basically straight down drop) and without too much yelling in pain on my part, took me and my broken arm to the hospital. There was the usual checking-in process, and then the Doctor arrived. At that point, he discovered that I had eaten dinner, so ~ knocking me out with anesthetic and setting the arm was not going to be possible until the morning. My arm was placed in a cloth type tube and I was attached to an IV stand ... the arm is now straight up (well, as straight as a completely broken arm can be) and I've been left in the bed. He ordered some pills to take away the pain - and allow me to get some rest.

The pills didn't work. Well, they did numb the pain, but wired me. There was no sleep that night. In a sense, this was a good thing because it gave me a lot of time to think ... about the plays, about what caused the break and to finally come up with two wonderful solutions. The first solution was the problem between the teacher and I and the second - even more important - solution was how to handle Bottom's infamous line about a "man may still be an ass." The first solution came from my addled, wired brain ~ the second from my arm hanging straight up in the air.

After what seemed as if The Longest Day have become The Longest Night, the nurses came and got me and off I went to surgery. The arm was set, put in what seemed like an ENORMOUS cast - and I woke up absolutely starving!! I was finally released and sent off to head back to my apartment for the rest of the day. Well, I should have gone directly back to my apartment for the rest of the day ~ but I stopped at the Quad at school to see the two teachers and let the students know that I was doing fine. A bit woozy, but fine.

The 6th grade teacher and I sat down and done what I should have done in the first place - we talked. My solution was actually quite simple (aren't most of them?) I would have her sit in at all the rehearsals and she would not put in/take out anything unless I was either there or we talked about it. Big smiles all around. Then I dropped my solution for Bottom's line ~ and we both laughed out loud over it.

The next day (as I remember) there was a rehearsal for Julius Caesar, and the actors were quite anxious to show me what they had accomplished and ready to begin the battle scene. Our elementary rehearsal space was simply not going to be good enough, and Parker Hall was available ~ so ~ up we went to the High School and to rehearse on the "big" stage.

Usually, the only time the elementary students performed on the stage was for music or dance recitals and once a year for the elementary talent show. So, getting "on the stage" was a big deal, and regarded with appropriate awe.

--more tomorrow

Intermezzo ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2009-07-13T22:04:00.001-05:00

For tonight, I'm going to leave myself at the hospital with a broken arm, and various problems with Julius Caesar and Midsummer Night's Dream unresolved. I wanted to head in a different direction for tonight ...

Today I found out that D&D,who have been close (if dramatic) friends for over 10 years, are ending their unending relationship of over 9 years. I would like to say that this came as a complete shock to me, but it did not. For a number of years, they have sounded more like a couple that's been married for a long time - but didn't want to be. And their idea of communication seemed more to talk AT each other, rather than TO each other.

I haven't done this for sometime, but I went back and looked at various quotes that I thought were relevant and realized again - any relationship/friendship takes work. Sometimes a lot of work. The advantage of friendship, as I see it, is that there is a separation inherent in the dynamics.

However, as I learned in my marriage that ended after 15+ years, marriage is not a minimizer but an enlarger. Those charming idiosyncrasies that are so charming when dating - can become major mountains that need to be overcome!!

(but it's all worth it!!)

“Love is not written on paper, for paper can be erased. Nor is it etched on stone, for stone can be broken. But it is inscribed on a heart and there it shall remain forever.”
--unknown

“It is strange how often a heart must be broken before the years can make it wise”
--Sara Teasdale

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”
--C.S. Lewis

“When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness; instead keep your head up high and gaze at the stars for that is where your broken heart has been sent to heal!”
--unknown

“A broken heart is what makes life so wonderful five years later, when you see that special guy in an elevator and he is fat and smoking and saying 'Long time no see'”
--Phyllis Batelle

"The day you finally decide to love me will be the day after the day I have given up on chasing you."
--unknown

"I don't miss him, I miss who I thought he was."
--unknown

" Maybe nature is fundamentally ugly, chaotic and complicated. But if it's like that, then I want out."
--Steven Weinberg

"Man is harder than iron, stronger than stone and more fragile than a rose."
--Turkish Proverb

---and as Paul Harvey might have said: Tomorrow, more of the Shakespeare story

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (3) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2009-07-12T22:22:00.006-05:00

--- continued from July 10th ~

I had -- in a moment of mental aberration -- left the 5th grade students aware that there was going to be at least one battle scene in their production of Julius Caesar ... this was followed by a battle with the 5th grade teacher. At the time, I had not formulated in my mind exactly how it was going to happen, but assured her it would be safe for everyone -- including the audience and provide some excitement to those watching.

The major problem was going to be weapons -- cardboard was not going to work, and i certainly wasn't going to try and round up a bunch of swords to place in the hands of my joyous and raucous 5th graders. Little did I know ~

The High School Science teacher a couple of days later (as I remember) talked to me in the staff dining room (where an incredible number of things seemed to be forever being discussed and/or decided) about the play and his interest in it. We got around the the battle scene and he told me that he had discovered a cache of bayonets at the kabardiwalla (I'm not sure of the spelling - forgive me) -- which means the local 2nd hand shop and he was sure I would be able to borrow them for the show.

Off we went to the shop, and there they were ... in all their nasty and dangerous glory. Unfortunately, the danger part really didn't dawn on me ... didn't even enter my thoughts. I immediately saw the scene in my mind and the realization of how much fun it would be to put together pushed all other concerns out of my mind.

They were triangular basically black - and - most exciting of all, they gave off sparks when struck together. (cue music from the beach assault in The Longest Day here.) At this point I lost all shred of sanity as far as the production was concerned, and the battle scene was about to become something that probably belonged in a movie about advancing on the beach at D-day!!

Now Midsummer Night's Dream was certainly not left out of the process. There was still the problem of Bottom's line about a man may still be an ass and then I found out that I would put something into rehearsal and the 6th grade teacher would take it out. This had been going on for sometime before I found out about it. I was getting frustrated with the students not remembering what I wanted them to do/say and them not wanting to tell me what was going on in the classroom.

So now we were down to two super-sized egos .. I was of the opinion that you don't mess with my show and she was of the opinion that you don't mess with her class. I found out late in the day and I got more and more angry as I went down the hill (literally) to the High School boys dorm where I was assistant supervisor and had my apartment. The longer I thought about it, the more angry I became. I decided, at that point, that I would go over to the High School girl's dormitory (where she had an apartment) and have it out with her - once and for all time!!

Now, if you look at the picture you will see a building on the hillside at the left edge. That was the starting point A -- the building on the hill on the right of the picture was finishing point B ... with a path and the middle school boys dorm hovering around the middle. Part f the path was lit, and parts were narrow and not. It was a path that everyone did several times a day on some days - and once a week, the High School boys make a treck to the High School girl's dorm for a dance. It was a path I knew well. I also knew that at that time of night, I needed to take a flashlight along, but I did not.

I am now charging along the path, heading to the middle building readying in my mind exactly how this was going to work and what I was going to accomplish or else!! That's when the "or else" happened in a moment. To this day, I'm not completely sure what happened - all I knew was that I ended up down the "chud" (pronounced cud .. again, I apologize for the spelling -- it meant cliff literally) as it was called with a broken arm. Unfortunately, I was too far entangled and too far down and hurting FAR too much to get myself out ... I began to yell for help. Finally, one of the workers heard me and tossed down what looked like a piece of twine. I finally convinced him that I was going to need more help then that ... and in due course, some kind of battalion arrived and got me to the hospital which was about a half-mile away.

---more tomorrow

Sorry About This ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2009-07-11T19:57:00.004-05:00

I will be away until quite late this evening -- I will continue the story of the Shakespeare Experiment tomorrow ... But let me leave you with a picture that STILL causes me to laugh (probably because I have a Blackberry, and can relate!!!)

You can click the picture to enlarge it somewhat ....

---back tomorrow

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Did Run Smooth (2) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2009-07-10T21:43:00.000-05:00

---Continuing from last night

While Bottom's ass, or rather his line containing the word ass was becoming a major sticking point between the teacher and I concerning the Midsummer Night's Dream script adaptation ... the 5th graders were beginning to get VERY interested in just what and who Julius Caesar was going to be and what kind of play this might turn out to be.

This was going to be a first for both classes, before plays had been done in the main auditorium Parker Hall, but these were going to be done with scenery, lights, costumes and above all else ~ programs. Big stuff...as this meant there would need to be rehearsals outside of class and a performance outside of the elementary school quad area and timetable. The dining room (students and staff) , four dormitory staffs (5th-6th grade girls and boys, high school boys, high school girls), staff and administration all wanted their piece of the action and planning.

Parker Hall was the school's main purpose "rumpus" room - as I like to call it. There were innumerable concerts, recitals, meetings, plays and such. One year in the last four weeks of school there were 18 different events ... all of which required several rehearsals, settings, lights, a dress rehearsal and ticketed performance. As most of the seats weren't numbered and were plastic stackable chairs at that - this entailed a lot of number/row painting on the floor. If you think that politicians have turf wars, just imagine trying to standardize performance seating charts for each of the departments of a school that had been going their merry way for over 150 years. As the saying goes: "It was so not going to happen ... in anyone's lifetime."

I assembled some props, and the 5th grade students were given their scripts to read. Now, here comes the part where real life intersected with the class room. These students worked not only on their regular school work, which was intense but also time in the day was found to read the script and after the casting was done to learn and rehearse the script. I saw these students once a week for a little over an hour, so much of the work was going to fall on the classroom teachers. Fortunately, this is something they were aware of and welcomed (at first anyway).

I meet with the 5th graders and showed them the cute little paper model of the Globe theater and did my story about what plays would have looked like and sounded like during that time. We laughed over the fact that King Lear and Hamlet take four hours to do the complete script today, but at that time they managed to get through them in a little under 2 hours. (that was my story, and I'm sticking to it!!) I also talked about the children's troupes that used to perform Shakespeare to highly appreciative audiences and we talked about what that might have been like.

In all honesty, I was not looking forward to a discussion of the play. I was thinking that it was going to be somewhat difficult to explain the over reaching theme(s), the types of people these folks were, etc. I should not have worried ... I told them we would start at the first scene and talk about the play. I decided that I would ask a (what I was sure would a rhetorical ) question about the crowd in the first scene. Almost everyone's hand went up. I chose a smiling young lady who informed me that "The crowd represents just how fickle people can be. They are all excited and thrilled with someone and want them to be everything to them and then just a quickly can turn on them and want them dead ~ or kill them themselves."

All I could think of was the fact that I had high school students taking my Shakespearean Tragedy class that took a couple of days and a lot of coaxing to figure out that one concept. At that point I knew we were not going to have a single problem figuring out the play.

The next point that had to be dealt with was the fact the 1) there were a large number of girls in the class and 2) there were only two parts for women in the show neither of which was exactly lengthy. I assured them ~ in a moment of total brain failure ~ that they would not only be able to participate in the crowd scene(s) but the battle(s) as well. The look from the teacher will simply be recorded in this space as "the look."

--more tomorrow

which may include the story of the bayonets and the battle of the ages

The Course Of - Whatever - Never Does Run Smooth ~ Late Afternoon Thoughts

2009-07-09T18:50:00.000-05:00

Marja at her delightful blog "Dutch Corner" did a 4th of July post about being introduced to one of Shakespeare's zanier comedies "Midsummer Night's Dream." And I had left a comment about "Years ago (in a galaxy far away) my 6th grade drama students did an adaptation of this wonderful play." --> her post is here <--

This week as I was moving things around, under the guise of "getting rid of somethings" .. I found the "gift" they had given me after the performance. And for a second time a flood of memories charged back demanding to be written down.

This occurred while I was teaching in India.

At that time, I was a teacher of English, Speech and Drama. The English, Speech portion involved grades 10-12 and Drama was divided up into Creative Drama grades 1-6 and Drama grades 10-12. Yes, there was a three year gap, but neither my schedule or the syllabus allowed for much more than doing a week long intensive theater performance with the 7th graders once a year.

The Shakespeare "experiment" started, as things so often do, on the way to somewhere else.

The 5th and 6th graders had done short plays before, and I was really not thrilled with what we had done, and they were a little dissatisfied with the level of plays available to be done. I was a little gun-shy about writing a couple of plays for them. I had done that twice for my High School students and while they loved them and "got" them, the administration was not terribly enthusiastic about them. 'Twas a quandary...and a puzzlement!!

I don't know how many of you are acquainted with "My Weekly Reader **" but when I was growing up, it's arrival in the classroom (we each got our OWN copy) was 2nd only to the Weekly Reader book sale ~ as I remember, once or twice a year. For years in school, this little newspaper brought fun, learning and insight to all who received it. When I was teaching at Woodstock School, I knew that it was available, but didn't realize that the students enjoyed it just as much as I had.

As I remember, it was in the staff dining room where the 5th grade teacher showed me a issue that contained a very short (10 or 12 lines) of one of the speeches from Julius Caesar and the article accompanying the adaptation (if that's the right word for it) about Rome and current affairs. As we were talking, (cue the theme from ANY Judy Garland, Micky Rooney "Let's put on a show" movie here.") One thing led to another, And I had agreed to adapt the play to their level, and do a Shakespeare segment as their drama classes. The 6th grade teacher, not to be outdone, wanted a play for her class as well. Well, why not (cue violins from Psycho shower scene here) ... why not a comedy - Midsummer Night's Dream wasn't being done anywhere around ... so, why not.

The major "why not" was the script(s) ... my agreement meant that I not only had to come up with two adaptations of major theatrical works, but would now need to stage them as well. Any student of Theater or Theatrical Literature knows the Julius Caesar text to use - and I don't think the cover has changed much in over (a certain number of years) ... And Midsummer Night's was available almost anywhere, so I set to work. Interesting enough, it was the adaptation of Midsummer Night's Dream that proved to be the most difficult.

As a play that is basically one big "romp" ... it is full of sexual innuendos and some not-so innuendo. And taking away completely everything that might ring slightly off would turn the play into a big nothing. Then, there is the magic, fairies and sprites wandering around ... this being a school high in the Himalaya Mountains depending on mission boards for teachers, support and some income (to say nothing of a stream of students!!) was somewhat vexing.

The teacher and I worked closely and sometimes contentiously about the wording. The most amusing part was what to do with Bottom's famous line (after being released from his donkey's head) that "sometimes a man might still be an ass." That line went in and out of the script more times than most people breathe in a day!! And was still a problem up to the final rehearsals ...

--- more to come ...

** FYI ~ (My) Weekly Reader has been in continuous publication since 1928 ~ to quote Wikipedia: The first edition was produced for the fourth grade, and appeared in September 1928. Its cover story was entitled "Two Poor Boys Who Made Good Are Now Running for the Highest Office in the World," and focused on the childhoods of Herbert Hoover and Al Smith.

-- and yes, that is a picture of Woodstock School ... I just wish it was mine!

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY # 233 !!!

2009-07-04T12:56:00.007-05:00

It's the time for serious thought, heavy reflection and ... who am I kidding?

It's time for a few good laughs ...

Suppose Twitter had been available 233 years ago??? (click on picture to enlarge)

(that was from historicaltweets.com)

And let's not forget the e-cards just waiting to be sent (to everyone we know!)

And when all else fails .... Cue the Muppets!!!

Have a wonderful day everyone!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blame It All On The Internet(s) ~ Early AFternoon Thoughts

2009-07-03T11:19:00.006-05:00

Sorry, I've been away for a bit ~ that will change very soon. However, this little jewel from College Humor was too good to pass up . . .

See more funny videos and funny pictures at CollegeHumor.

An Elegant Timewaster - Lovecraftian Lore ~ Early AFternoon Thoughts

2009-06-20T14:06:00.000-05:00

It's VERY hot here today - just the kind of day to stay inside and get all those nagging things done that I have been putting off doing . . . and after discovering -->this delightful site<--, will put off even further ... The site is devoted to those dark and deadly seeming card games. Somewhat like playing Dungeons and Dragons, but it moves much more quickly and even somewhat darker. Alas, no gnome tossing or princess rescuing ...

The start of the game looks like this ....

And once you press start game (I would suggest reading how to play first!!!) you will see this --

Nice creepy music and sounds accompany the game play, and no I've lost each time I've played, but there's always the next time

To play the game .... --> CLICK HERE <-- and as always, I'm not responsible for lost time, jobs or - in this case - sleep!!

And The Bleet Goes On ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

2009-06-15T15:30:00.001-05:00

This was posted on one of my absolutely favorite morning blogs --> Daily Kos<- -, which if you have not bookmarked, you should. It is updated during the day, and for American politics, culture with amazing commentary could not be any better (sorry, Huffington Post!)

At first I thought I might make a few "comments" about the mess in Albany, NY ~ but they're doing just fine holding THAT circus without any further comments from me!!

I had written about RIAA and MPAA --> once before <-- but now they seem to have outdone themselves in self-pity. It seems they feel they have lost the PR war over pirating and downloading/sharing music ... You can read the entire post from the original source --> here <-- an ezine called Zeropaid. This was the section that was posted at Kos and really caught my attention ... These might be the reasons they lost the PR battles and probably the "war" ~ (Republicans, are you listening???)

"We figured a short list might be in order:

-destroying Napster and Audio Galaxy and not creating an alternative for the get-go,
raiding people’s homes because they uploaded Star Wars (not necessarily leaking it in the first place),
-hacking the URN hash and polluting FastTrack,
-hacking The Pirate Bay,
-having Viacom serve DMCA notices to people posting video’s of people eating in a restaurant on YouTube,
-suing tens of thousands of average American’s including fining one individual $222,000 for sharing a couple songs,
-saying that files in a shared directory is copyright infringement in court,
-saying that evidence is too hard to get and that the industry shouldn’t be burdened to prove their cases in court,
-suggesting that iPods are little more than little pirate ships,
-saying in court that even making one back-up copy of a DVD is illegal,
-lobbying to put in the DMCA, demanding that laws should be in place to prevent any tinkering with DRM including for research purposes,
-installing rootkits on people’s computers,
-installing spyware on people’s computers via the MediaMax technology,
-being outed for being hypocrites for pirating a documentary movie and claiming that it’ll only be in a safe place,
-tried to bring people a broadcast flag and telling people you can’t record TV shows if the broadcaster doesn’t like it,
-trying to bi-pass the backfiring of WIPO and the FCC to bring in the broadcast flag anyway, -tried to get ISPs to do all the copyright industry’s dirty work,
-pressured and bullied other countries to implement laws the industry saw fit and using shady lobbying tactics to accomplish this,
-tried to sell us music that cannot be copied through the internet and on discs,
-tried to bi-pass the will of the European Union and get countries to pass “three strikes” laws even if artists disagree with it,
-attempted to price fix music albums,
-secretly hold negotiations to pass draconian copyright laws that would see people’s physical property effectively stolen on the mere suspicion of copyright infringement through ACTA, -demanding that laws be passed that mandates the promotion of legal alternatives,
then not providing the kind of deals that would allow legitimate services to flourish with internet groups and businesses like ISPs,
-alienate an entire generation by labeling their own customers as pirates,
-likened downloading music on the internet to terrorism,
-likened internet users who download music online to “biker gangs”,
-spread blatantly false information about file-sharing,
-forcing people to watch anti-piracy ads on movies,
-suing people who had a recently deceased family member,
-argue that the industry is for artists, then going to court and demanding that royalty rates should be lower for artists - thus having to pay them less and keeping more money from album revenues,
-forcing radio broadcasters to pay royalties even if they don’t play music from the copyright industry,
-suing a lawyer for blogging about court cases related to copyright,
-and possibly the whole issue of listing countries that hold 70% of the world’s population and labeling some as rogue nations that need to update their copyright laws via the USTR Special 301 report - thus alienating many countries in the first place.

Again, a short list of probably simple misunderstandings in the world of PR that have been taken out of context by the “enemies of copyright”."

Just so it's clear, the copy is from the articles, the pictures I added ...

It's All In The Drink ~ early afternoon thoughts

2009-06-13T13:25:00.001-05:00

It all makes sense now,

Subject: Derivative markets, an understandable explanation

Heidi is the proprietor of a bar in Detroit . In order to increase sales, she decides to allow her loyal customers - most of whom are unemployed alcoholics - to drink now but pay later. She keeps track of the drinks consumed on a ledger (thereby granting the customers loans).

Word gets around about Heidi's drink now pay later marketing strategy and as a result, increasing numbers of customers flood into Heidi's bar and soon she has the largest sale volume for any bar in Detroit .

By providing her customers' freedom from immediate payment demands, Heidi gets no resistance when she substantially increases her prices for wine and beer, the most consumed beverages. Her sales volume increases massively.

A young and dynamic vice-president at the local bank recognizes these customer debts as valuable future assets and increases Heidi's borrowing limit. He sees no reason for undue concern since he has the debts of the alcoholics as collateral. At the bank's corporate headquarters, expert traders transform these customer loans into DRINKBONDS, ALKIBONDS and PUKEBONDS.

These securities are then traded on security markets worldwide. Naive investors don't really understand the securities being sold to them as AAA secured bonds are really the debts of unemployed alcoholics. Nevertheless, their prices continuously climb, and the securities
become the top-selling items for some of the nation's leading brokerage houses.

One day, although the bond prices are still climbing, a risk manager at the bank (subsequently fired due his negativity), decides that the time has come to demand payment on the debts incurred by the drinkers at Heidi's. Heidi demands payment from her alcoholic patrons, but being unemployed they cannot pay back their drinking debts. Therefore, Heidi cannot fulfill her loan obligations and claims bankruptcy.

DRINKBOND and ALKIBOND drop in price by 90 %. PUKEBOND performs better, stabilizing in price after dropping by 80 %. The decreased bond asset value destroys the banks liquidity and prevents it from issuing new loans.

The suppliers of Heidi's bar, having granted her generous payment extensions and having invested in the securities are faced with writing off her debt and losing over 80% on her bonds. Her wine supplier claims bankruptcy, her beer supplier is taken over by a competitor, who immediately closes the local plant and lays off 50 workers.

The bank and brokerage houses are saved by the Government following dramatic round-the-clock negotiations by leaders from both political parties. The funds required for this bailout are obtained by a tax levied on employed middle-class non-drinkers.

Finally an explanation I understand .....

Parental Moments ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2009-06-09T14:38:00.001-05:00

About the time my daughter was in High School. a ladies only strip club had made the news here in town. It was owned by a former dancer of note (according to his press releases) and had become quite the party spot. It had (at that time) a firm "ladies only" policy ~ so, from what we understood the evenings were fairly raucous. This became quite the topic of conversation from my daughter and she was making all sorts of devious plans to go. I didn't worry too much about it as 1) she was way to young to get in and 2) I doubted she would really have gone even if she could have gotten into the place and 3) she was talking out loud about the plans ~ probably to see what kind of reaction it would get.

My daughter also loved to go to the various trade shows (travel), home and garden shows and the other exhibitions during the year. She was the exact opposite of my ex-wife. who could tolerate those kind of gatherings for - oh - maybe ten minutes and then was done. My daughter, on the other hand, loved to go, look and see everything that was there. She also was beginning to "scope" out men which was quite funny to be around. She would decided someone was cute, and I'd tease her to go talk to him, to which she would refuse, etc. It was a fun time to be around her ...

One week, there was a home and travel show at the convention center and I extended the invitation for her to come with me and for once, she decided that she didn't want to go but "Bring me home something from it, Dad." was the response.

So, I went and wandered around the exhibits on the main floor and then went to the second floor exhibits. In the center of all those exhibits was not only an exhibit for the club she had been talking about, but about 8 of the dancers were there as well. And yes, everything was quite G-rated. I wandered by and realized they were selling pictures, slides (!?!) and calenders. Ah ha!! A calender would be the ideal thing for her - if I could find one that she would be allowed to hang in her room! I found a large wall one with all 12 months and a different dancer for each month. This was a little more PG rated, but they were basically clothed and I was pretty sure that my ex (not ex at the time but later) would allow it in the house and in her room.

Not only did I get the calender, I got the dancers who were there to autograph the calender for her - and they each personalized it. I was sure it would be a great hit. (two of the dancers circled their birthdays with hearts - as if!!)

I waited to give it to her for several days. We were heading to do some shopping and I reminded her about the home/travel show and that it was too bad she wasn't there, because ... and then I told her who was there. It was a wonderful dramatic moment on her part as she was quite vocal about having missed them, etc. THEN, I gave her the calender.

A long silence followed, and all I could think was: "Oh, great, she doesn't like it!!" Finally I asked her if she was unhappy with it ...

Another long pause, then she replied that she did like it but ~ she said; "I just realized that there is no way I could date someone who has bigger boobs and more hair than I do!"

Writer's Cramp And Pain ~ Late Eveing Thoughts

2009-03-09T23:57:00.000-05:00

I have to apologize for the silence in this blog. I really haven't fallen off the face of the earth, nor have I been captured by a mob bent on burning, raping and/or pillaging.

I have been deeply involved in two creative projects . . . one is total vanity on my part - I have been putting a book together which is now taking shape. It will hold it's shape as long as I don't get the "Oh, good Lord - what do I think I am doing" vision and use the delete key to take it all away. I don't think it will happen as there's been a bit too much of my energy, etc. involved in it.

I can tell you that the title will be "Do You Want Me To Bring The Ashes?" which comes from an incident involving my Mother's funeral. Almost the entire book are base on my memories of things in and around my life. Much of the material has come, so far, from the postings in this blog ~ all of which has required a LOT of rewriting and "fixing" - especially when it comes to names and such.

The other creative project that has really consumed me, I was asked to create a theater piece. I have NO idea if it will be performed or even make it to a staged reading. It is a type of theater I have always had difficulty writing, but I am slogging though all this and fully expect to come out the other side. Perhaps I will not come out the other side triumphant but I certainly will have accomplished a major goal.

I think that things will begin to settle down now and not take quite so much of my time and energy.

Talks about writer cramps and pains ... Sometimes creativity hurts!!!

Words, Words, Words ~ Late Eveing Thoughts

2009-02-19T22:31:00.000-06:00

This is a two-part post tonight . . .

First, Good Ol' Oxford University has complied a list of the 10 MOST irritating expressions . . .

The phrases appear in a book called Damp Squid, named after the mistake of confusing a squid with a squib, a type of firework.

The researchers who compiled the list monitor the use of phrases in a database called the Oxford University Corpus, which comprises books, papers, magazines, broadcast, the Internet and other sources.

The database alerts them to new words and phrases and can tell them which expressions are disappearing. It also shows how words are being misused.

As well as the above expressions, the book's author Jeremy Butterfield says that many annoyingly over-used expressions actually began as office lingo, such as 24/7 and "synergy".

Other phrases to irritate people are "literally" and "ironically", when they are used out of context.

Mr Butterfield said: "We grow tired of anything that is repeated too often – an anecdote, a joke, a mannerism – and the same seems to happen with some language."

Here is the list ~ I'm sure there are others we all would like to see added -

The top ten most irritating phrases:

1 - At the end of the day (a phrase I have come to detest!)

2 - Fairly unique (is this similar to being somewhat pregnant?)

3 - I personally

4 - At this moment in time (a bad song title as well)

5 - With all due respect (usually followed by something showing NO respect)

6 - Absolutely

7 - It's a nightmare

8 - Shouldn't of (instead of shouldn't have ~ my Mother would be so proud!!)

9 - 24/7

10 - It's not rocket science

The American Dialect Society ~ Word Of The Year

Their press release says it best:

Word of the Year is interpreted in its broader sense as “vocabulary item”—not just words but
phrases. The words or phrases do not have to be brand-new, but they have to be newly prominent or notable in the past year, in the manner of Time magazine’s Person of the Year.

The vote is the longest-running such vote anywhere, the only one not tied to commercial interests, and the word-of-the-year event up to which all others lead. It is fully informed by the members’ expertise in the study of words, but it is far from a solemn occasion. Members in the 119-year-old organization include linguists, lexicographers, etymologists, grammarians, historians, researchers, writers, authors, editors, professors, university students, and independent scholars.

In conducting the vote, they act in fun and do not pretend to be officially inducting words into the English language. Instead they are highlighting that language change is normal, ongoing, and entertaining.

2007 Word of the Year,
subprime, an adjective used to describe a risky or less than ideal loan, mortgage, or investment.
Most Useful: green- prefix/compounding form, designates environmental concern, as in greenwashing.
Most Creative: googlegänger, a person with your name who shows up when you google yourself.
Most Unnecessary: Happy Kwanhanamas! [Kwanza + Hanukka + Christmas] Happy holidays!
Most Outrageous: toe-tapper, A homosexual. Senator Larry Craig was arrested in June for an encounter in a public restroom in which toe-tapping was said to have been used as a sexual come on.
Most Euphemistic: human terrain team, a group of social scientists employed by the US military to serve as cultural advisers in Iraq or Afghanistan.
Most Likely to Succeed: green- prefix/compounding form, designates environmental concern, as in greenwashing.
Least Likely to Succeed: strand-in, protest duplicating being stranded inside an airplane on a delayed flight.
New Category, Real Estate Words: subprime, used to describe a risky or poorly documented loan or mortgage.

These are the words for 2007, I will be posting 2008 soon . . . .

Show me - from My Fair Lady

Freddy
Speak and the world is full of singing,
And I'm winging Higher than the birds.
Touch and my heart begins to crumble,
The heaven's tumble, Darling, and I'm...

Eliza
Words!
Words! Words! I'm so sick of words!
I get words all day through;
First from him, now from you! Is that all you blighters can do?
Don't talk of stars Burning above; If you're in love,
Show me! Tell me no dreams
Filled with desire. If you're on fire,
Show me! Here we are together in the middle of the night!
Don't talk of spring! Just hold me tight!
Anyone who's ever been in love'll tell you that
This is no time for a chat! Haven't your lips
Longed for my touch? Don't say how much,
Show me! Show me! Don't talk of love lasting through time.
Make me no undying vow. Show me now!
Sing me no song! Read me no rhyme!
Don't waste my time, Show me!
Don't talk of June, Don't talk of fall!
Don't talk at all! Show me!
Never do I ever want to hear another word.
There isn't one I haven't heard.
Here we are together in what ought to be a dream;
Say one more word and I'll scream!
Haven't your arms Hungered for mine?
Please don't "expl'ine," Show me! Show me!
Don't wait until wrinkles and lines
Pop out all over my brow,
Show me now!

An Elegant Moment In Time ~ Early Morning Thoughts

2009-02-19T09:24:00.006-06:00

What happens when you take ~ 8 weeks of planning, 8 sound tracks of 60s through 90s music, 10,000 who auditioned, 400 chosen, 10 hidden cameras, and a terminal full of unsuspecting commuters? You get an amazing moment in time.

Here is a cell-phone commercial recently filmed in England ... at a railway station during rush hour...

Of course, it took quite a bit of planning and rehearsal ....

I always get a bit teary/emotional seeing things such as this ... hopefully, not too many commuters missed their trains ....

Side note ~ There are some advantages to being old(er). Years ago, on the old Alan Funt Candid Camera, in a supermarket ~ there was an announcement on the loudspeaker asking everyone to take a moment and dance. A waltz was played and the "plants" literally took unsuspecting shoppers in their arms and began to waltz with them. My family urben legend is that my uncle had written the show and suggested it as something they could do.

A Moving Tale (2) ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

2009-02-16T12:56:00.001-06:00

Previous post about moving -->here<-- I got the keys to see the apartment, and upon entering ~ I actually loved it. There was a much larger living room, an actual hallway to the bedroom (Le Mutt would enjoy the running room) and, of course, the washer/dryer connections off the kitchen . . . just right to clean and cook, right? The patio was larger and only needed some weedkiller for the forest primeval that was attempting to grow there. All seemed to be well and what I was looking for in living space.

Now came the difficult part, actually making the decision to move. I weighed all the options, made innumerable lists comparing the pros and cons . . . and finally decided that I would once again move. Again, it was only 150 yards down the way. . . and down a short flight of stairs into the apartment or down cement steps OR a slight grassy incline into the porch. Shouldn't be much of a problem.

I had decided that there was no way I was going to pack and move myself. Somewhere I felt there was one of the moving companies that would pack, move and unpack. That was a correct assumption, but you would have thought I was moving into the White House based on the conversations and prices I was quoted. I was stunned to find out what the charges would be just to MOVE things that were already packed. So now I was faced with doing it on my own ~ so to speak. While I was contemplating this turn of events, I got into a discussion with my daughter. My son-in-law, in order to add extra money into their personal stimulus plan had been doing a number of "side-jobs" on the weekends. I decided that I would hire them for the move. . . and pay them quite well for it.

This proved to be one of the best decisions about the move I could have made. I decided on moving the last week of December. The move would occur the 24th of January. My neighbors were planning to make their move to a different complex the same weekend, so we would be able to share/commiserate during the ordeal of boxes and dumping and hauling and sorting.

During the week of the move the weather reports were quite typical for Houston. . . in other words, no one really knew WHAT the weather was going to be like during the weekend. Of course, there is always the chance of rain or storms ~ but nothing such as that seemed to be on any one's mind. The day of the move was actually quite cool, overcast, light wind and some rain was forecast at some point during the day. My daughter, Son-in-law and the 2 grand kids showed up ready to begin the day . . . I was actually ready to begin it myself. Very shortly. however, I was ~~banished~~ sent to the new apartment to oversee the arrivals and to place and unpack them as well.

What my Son-in-law has done was hire four men that work on his construction sites to come and do the lifting, hauling and placing. This meant that he could arrange, box and get things finalized (with the rest of his families help) and they would simply "hoof" it over to me. Talk about an incredible time-saver and energy saver! Very shortly furniture, boxes, tables, beds and all the etc. began to arrive to be placed and/or unpacked. What the moving companies had told me would take two days (!?!) was accomplished in a few hours.

The best moment of the entire move was the arrival of Bonzai (who had been in his large crate the entire time to prevent him from trying to help/hinder the move!) I'm old(er) enough to remember the spectacle of Elizabeth Taylor's entrance into Rome in the movie Cleopatra. The dog arrived much as she did - with one guy on each of the corners of the crate. They carried him through the complex and down into his new kingdom. We were all laughing but I can report that he was "not amused."

He was even less amused when Daughter, Son-in-Law and grand kids all went to dinner and left him behind.

So now I had moved into my new space without too much difficulty (only one slight damage to a piece of furniture) and I was awaiting the quick connection of the phone, Internet and TV.

---that ordeal will follow . . . and it was an ordeal!

Valentine's Day ~ Early Evening Thoughts (history)

2009-02-11T18:33:00.000-06:00

This year, I'm helping out at the florist shop (again) answering the phones and trying to keep some sense of order in the chaos. I wanted to repost a bit of the history of Valentine's day . . . and all that goes with it. (I will do my best to do another chapter of "moving tales" tomorrow)

We may owe our observance of Valentine's Day to the Roman celebration of Lupercalia, a festival of eroticism that honored Juno Februata, the goddess of "feverish" (febris) love. Annually, on the ides of February, love notes or "billets" would be drawn to partner men and women for feasting and sexual game playing.

Early Christians, clearly a dour bunch, frowned on these lascivious goings-on. In an attempt to curb the erotic festivities, the Christian clergy encouraged celebrants to substitute the names of saints. Then, for the next twelve months, participants were to emulate the ideals represented by the particular saint they'd chosen. Not too surprisingly, this prudish version of Lupercalia proved unpopular, and died a quick death.

But the early Christians were anything but quitters, so it was on to Plan B: modulate the overtly sexual nature of Lupercalia by turning this "feast of the flesh" into a "ritual for romance!"

This time, the Church selected a single saint to do battle the pagan goddess Juno -- St. Valentine (Valentinus). And since Valentinus had been martyred on February 14, the Church could also preempt the annual February 15 celebration of Lupercalia. The only fly in the ointment was Valentinus himself: he was a chaste man, unschooled in the art of love.

Despite the efforts of the Church, Valentine's Day continued to echo Lupercalia in at least one respect - men and women, married or single, would draw lots to select a "valentine." Once paired, the couple exchanged gifts and sometimes love tokens as well. The custom of lottery drawings to select Valentines persisted well into the eighteenth century. Gradually, however, a shift took place. No longer did both parties exchange gifts; instead, gift-giving became solely the responsibility of the man!

This new twist helped to finally bring an end to the random drawing of names, since many men were unhappy about giving gifts (sometimes very costly)to women who were not of their choosing. And now that individuals were free to select their own Valentine, the celebration took on a new and much more serious meaning for couples!

The first written valentine is usually attributed to the imprisoned Charles, Duke of Orleans. In 1415, Charles fought his lonely confinement by writing romantic verses for his wife. By the sixteenth century written valentines were so common that St. Francis de Sales, fearing for the souls of his English flock, sermonized against them.

Manufactured cards, decorated with Cupids and hearts, appeared near the end of the eighteenth century. A purchased valentine became the most popular way to declare love during the early decades of the nineteenth century. Miniature works of art, the cards were usually hand painted and were often lavishly decorated with laces, silk or satin, flowers (made from the feathers of tropical birds), glass filigrees, gold-leaf or even perfumed sachets!

Did you know that the current popularity of St. Valentine's Day owes much to the modern postal service? Until the mid-1800's, the cost of sending mail was far beyond the means of the average person. Even worse, the postal service demanded payment from the recipient, not the sender, of the letter! Imagine receiving a Valentine card, paying the postage due, then reading that you were "...valued beyond rubies" by your Valentine. Even more ironic... discovering that your Valentine card was from an unwelcome suitor! So, until the advent of the penny post, most valentine cards were hand delivered by the prospective lover.

This history adapted (stolen) from
www.me2u.com

A Moving Tale ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

2009-02-09T11:37:00.001-06:00

Le Mutt (officially called Bonzai - because the first day he was around, he had the startling habit of throwing himself off furniture ) and I were quite comfortable in my apartment. While not an enormous space, it was comfortable and had a view of the Bayou unmatched except at the very expensive restaurant down the road. As a two bedroom I had visions of turning the second bedroom into an office/craft room. In actuality, it consisted of piled boxes and "stuff" - with the computer tucked into a corner of clear space.

The apartment laundromat was a matter of steps from my apartment, and when the machines were working was quite convenient. At least that is what everyone told me . . .

in actuality, they are never convenient.

Having the quarters,
loading the laundry,
carrying the laundry,
washing the laundry,
getting more quarters,
drying the laundry,
folding/hanging the laundry,
carrying the laundry (now occupying much more space)
and
putting the laundry away.
(rinse and repeat theme song here)

And, of course, with any apartment dwelling there are neighbors. I was fortunate in that mine were nice and except for the ones above me, relatively quiet. On my side of the building ~ next to me was a couple who were in residence only during the week. On weekends they went to their ranch to play with their cows and horses ~ nice job if you can get it!! Upstairs from them were a delightful couple with a five year old son that was going to be a stand-up comedian someday and a new baby. They were wonderful neighbors, and when I had my first knee operation actually showed up at my door during the recovery to find out if I needed anything and to check that I was OK.

The neighbors directly above me were . . . well . . . quite interesting and unusual. Aside from some strange activities and loud noises from above ~ there was the day (a beautiful Saturday afternoon as a matter of fact) they made rather passionate love (cue bad movie porn sound track here)~ with their windows open. Ah, the sounds of nature. There were a number of people out on the area in front of my apartment which had some BBQ pits and benches . . . they were as ~~fascinated~~ stunned as I was. Even Bonzai was stunned into silence and immobility.

But as I said, Le Mutt and I were quite comfortable where we were and not planning to move anytime soon. (cue ominous sounds here) I really didn't want to go through the hassle of packing, unpacking and transferring everything into a new apartment. Besides, mine was quite convenient and I was settled into the space. Albeit a somewhat cluttered space, but MY space none-the-less.

The 1st week of January, the people next to me told me they were planning to move ~ something closer to their jobs. We chatted about options, and then they told me that the BC building in the complex had a 2 bedroom/2 bath available. THAT conversation was what set all this in motion.

When the complex was built ~ there was a supper club right in the middle. It had the charming name of "Barbary Coast." From what I understand, it didn't take the owner very long to realize that he really didn't want to be in the restaurant business . . . running a large complex was quite enough. After several years, the building was revamped/redesigned with ten individual apartments. Because of the lay-out of the building, no apartments had the same floor plans and each had washer/drying connections. Because of the type of building it is, and the larger apartments along with the connections, demand is rather high for them. As a matter of fact, when one becomes vacant, the complex doesn't even advertise them - current tenants rent them in a matter of days.

So, off I went to the office to ask about the apartment and to get the keys to see it. The apartment itself was about 150 yards from where I was, so moving wouldn't be a major ordeal. Or so I thought . . .

--more to come

You Can't Make These Up!! ~ Early Morning Thoughts

2009-02-09T10:38:00.000-06:00

My dear friend EB sent me these pictures w/commentary in an e-mail recently. I just have to share them. These articles/headlines say it all . . . .

I would have guessed about 20

That's a GREAT paint job I say . . .

Good going Captain Obvious!!

Who elected these people?

And they were expecting - what?

What goes around, comes around!!!

That is just mean ~

If you see him PLEASE call ~

Let me know how that works out for you ~

It's My Party And I'll . . . ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2009-02-05T22:13:00.000-06:00

Today is my birthday - a wonderful milestone for me. . . it's been almost 1 year and 6 months since I decided to live sane(r) and sober. . . it's been almost 1 year and 6 months since I re-connected with my kids and grandchildren that I thought might be lost to me forever.

It's been an interesting journey with some wonderful highs and some rather interesting "valleys" . . . but, as I reminded someone today - there is little good grass that grows on the mountain top ~ particularly above the tree line!!

So, how did I celebrate all these milestones? By doing exactly what I wanted to today, sharing with some friends and enjoying the day and my life.

Now that may be a very small button - but press it and press it again and again and help me celebrate my birthday with unicorns and rainbows!!!!

An Explaination Of Sorts ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2009-02-04T18:22:00.001-06:00

I apologize for my silence ~ on January 25th I moved from one apartment to another in the same complex. This was not a move to another town or even across town...I moved approximately 150 yards from where I lived.

I finally got my land line hooked up Monday and the internet TODAY ~ (cue frustrated sounds here).

I have a lot of emails and some work to catch up on and then I will post the story(ies) of this saga.

Again, my lengthy silence was certainly NOT my intention ...

Please Pass (over) The Nuts (3) ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2009-01-21T23:12:00.002-06:00

I, along with many others, watched (in my case overwatched) the inauguration of a new President on the 20th. (Yes, I was still watching at the 10th Presidential dance! If their feet didn't hurt, mine certainly did!)I was hopeful that a new beginning might signal a new start in areas where so much has been lacking. As a gay and fundamental Christian, I believe I have a Biblical obligation to pray for my leaders, even those I disagree with. As an American, I feel I have an obligation to hope and pray for the best from my leaders, and to "hold their feet to the fire" if they are not doing their best.

The cynicism that I posted about last, had even gotten into that area where I could no longer even look at any of the governments - federal, state and local - with any degree of objectivity or hope. In the amazing book "Language In Thought And Action," the author talks about when we have cast someone in the role of the "enemy" ALL communications/actions by them are immediately suspect and are filtered through the lens of how I view the "enemy" regardless of the truth.

So, I began to climb out of THAT hole and back to the level playing ground of attempting to see what was truth and what was not. And based on the last several years of watching government, not an easy task ~ not an easy task at all.

Over the last couple of days, two instances of people working on the premise that someone is the enemy and all communications are to be dismissed as lies and deceit have really hit me. Both are disturbing in many ways, but most disturbing to me as to their own lack of humanity and belief in people. Both would claim that is not true, but sadly both would be wrong.

The first came from a supposed christian (small c) self-appointed leader. Joseph Farah is the founder of a very conservative web-site WorldNet Daily. It has a number of contributors who echo the views of the founder. That's not a problem for me, as I will defend their right to say what they think, just as I will defend my right not to read it. I will also defend my right to comment on it, and give my view of it.

Back in August, I posted about christian hate and christian witchcraft. Christian witchcraft to me is asking the Almighty (however you regard that) to do something "to" another rather than "for" another. It's charging into the Throne Room ~ demands in hand and expecting that regardless of the Person on the Throne's attitude/statements/desire we will get what we want, when we want it and, "oh yes, make that yesterday" because I say so. In this case Joseph Farah does something a little more insidious than that. He cloaks his witchcraft in a seemingly nice Christian outfit, with a few well chosen verses thrown in for good effect. He is asking ~ Well, here's the article. . .

Joseph Farah Pray Obama fails
Posted: January 19, 2009
1:00 am Eastern

Many American Christians believe, as an article of faith, that we are to pray for the success of our leaders.

It has become a sort of conventional wisdom among soft-minded believers. The biblical proof-text for this misguided way of thinking is Romans 13:1-4:

"Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers that be are ordained of God.

"Whosoever therefore resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of God: and they that resist shall receive to themselves damnation.

"For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power? do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same:

"For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil."

What could be more clear-cut? At face value, it would seem the Bible is telling us government is a God-ordained good and that we are not to resist its terrors.

Many a coward has been bolstered in his conviction against challenging tyranny by not reading too deeply into the Scriptures. Yet, nowhere does the Bible ever suggest evil rulers are to be obeyed. When the rule of men conflicts with the commands of God, the Bible leaves no doubt about where we should stand.

That's why I do not hesitate today in calling on godly Americans to pray that Barack Hussein Obama fail in his efforts to change our country from one anchored on self-governance and constitutional republicanism to one based on the raw and unlimited power of the central state.

It would be folly to pray for his success in such an evil campaign.

I want Obama to fail because his agenda is 100 percent at odds with God's. Pretending it is not simply makes a mockery of God's straightforward Commandments.

So you will not see me joining in the ritual of affirming Obama and his mission in public or private prayer this week – or any other week.

Instead, I uphold the words of Jesus in Matthew 15:14: "Let them alone: they be blind leaders of the blind. And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch." And I take warning from Isaiah 9:16: "For the leaders of this people cause them to err; and they that are led of them are destroyed."

And please don't tell me about "rendering unto Caesar."

It's important to consider the circumstances and the audience behind Jesus' instructions to "render unto Caesar." The Sadducees were attempting to trap Jesus into advocating open contempt for Caesar. He recognized their wicked and hypocritical little game and answered them with a totally truthful response that astonished everyone.

But think about it. There are two components to Jesus' words. We are to "render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's," but we are also to "render unto God the things that are God's." Well, everything ultimately belongs to God. But, most of all, this injunction by Jesus instructs us that government laws cannot trump God's laws – ever.

If government commands you to do evil, as a Christian you must resist. There is no alternative. Citing the "render unto Caesar" line is an apologetic for accountability to God – nothing more, nothing less.

Furthermore, it needs to be pointed out that in America we don't have a Caesar. Never have, never will. You see, our system of government is called a free republic, and it is based on the concept of constitutional self-government. We have no "rulers" in America – except ourselves and our God. We believe in the rule of law, not the rule of men.

This is an important distinction, not a semantic one.

Nowhere in the Bible does it teach us to obey evil rulers. Nowhere.

This is a time for principled biblical resistance, not phony Christian appeasement.

If, indeed, Mr. Farah is the Christian he claims, and not the christian he seems to be representing here ~ there's a very strong disconnect from the reality of Scripture. I'm not going to head into a theological argument here, that will be for another time. But I will say time and again The Bible makes it perfectly clear that indeed we do have leaders and we have an obligation to pray for them.

He also conveniently ignores the number of instances where Biblical characters not only DID support what Mr. Farah would consider to be evil, but actually in some cases ruled WITH them.

Yes, there is a time for resistance - but this is not one of them.

And a final thought on this man ~ if, indeed, the President WERE to fail would he stand on his cyberspace rooftop and shout that God had answered his prayer? I rather doubt it. . .

Then, today ~ I ran across this gem from someone who should know better, or is so desperate for ratings or sell his material that he would grasp at straws to accomplish his ends. Rush Limbaugh (remember him from the prescription addiction/pharmacy shopping episode). had this to say about being asked for a 400 word article on what he hopes from an Obama administration:

So I’m thinking of replying to the guy, “Okay, I’ll send you a response, but I don’t need 400 words, I need four: I hope he fails.” (interruption) What are you laughing at? See, here’s the point. Everybody thinks it’s outrageous to say. Look, even my staff, “Oh, you can’t do that.” Why not? Why is it any different, what’s new, what is unfair about my saying I hope liberalism fails? Liberalism is our problem. Liberalism is what’s gotten us dangerously close to the precipice here. Why do I want more of it? I don’t care what the Drive-By story is. I would be honored if the Drive-By Media headlined me all day long: “Limbaugh: I Hope Obama Fails.” Somebody’s gotta say it.

Again, this from the man who indicated a number of years ago that dissent was equal to terrorism ~ I suspect echoing the press secretary right after 9/11 who warned that “Americans…need to watch what they say, watch what they do.” They were chilling words back then and became even more so during these last years.

I've discovered I'm not as young as I used to be ~ my body keeps reminding me of that daily and going out and about reminds me of that as well. One of the things it has done is allow me the luxury of looking at things with very different "eyes" and outlook. These people are sad in different and similar ways.

I'm not joining the "cast them into the fiery pit of hell" crowd because dissent is a natural and important part of the American political process. What I, and I hope others, will do is to point out the hypocrisy and errors of their dissent.

And, alas, to pray for them.

Cyclic Cynical ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2009-01-11T22:58:00.001-06:00

Every so often it comes over me. It's a feeling not of despair or hopelessness ~ but one of deep cynicism. It is not a pleasant feeling or way of thinking. If allowed to run free, it begins to color so many areas of life. . . relationships, friendships and way of life.

As I was trying to track down where this was coming from or being "fed" by, I realized that the political arena was mostly to blame. I was surprised because usually my reaction politically is a heartfelt "Meh" (a new word in the dictionary) or a rather disgusted "Oh well . . . ". It seems that this time the political circus has moved beyond the annoying to emulating the Keystone Kops!

It started with Mr Pay-for-Play Rod Blagojevich, who, until we actually have a chance to hear/read the transcripts of the recorded conversations, seems to be guilty of nothing more than stupidity and babbling bluster. However, that was until the Senate leadership, in its infinite leadership wisdom entered the act. With extreme posturing ~ even by political standards ~ announcing that no one appointed by the governor would be seated in the Senate to replace President-Elect Obama. At first blush it seemed reasonable enough, however with some reflection I remembered there was a court case where the House was told by the Supreme Court no less, That Congress lacked power to fashion its own standards for admittance (back in 1967, involving Adam Clayton Powell ~ race surely coincidental). Of course, the Governor did exactly that . . . he appointed Roland Burris who one article described as someone who: "never lacked in self-esteem or retreated from long-odds challenges."

This appointment boxed the Senate leadership into a nice corner of their own making.

Then, I read in chigacotribune.com this priceless bit of information ~

" While the process slogs along, it's also possible that Burris could take on some limited trappings of office.

Past practice (cue music from Fiddler on the Roof here) in the Senate has been to grant a senator whose credentials are disputed office space and payroll for a staff, as well as floor privileges—but not a Senate seat—until the situation is resolved. So Burris potentially could be allowed to enter the exclusive club, but not as a full member, without the ability to vote, speak or even literally sit at a senator's desk."

At that point, my cynical meter was almost on overload. Everything but the ability to vote or have a seat on the senate floor? Are you kidding me?

It no longer is a surprise to me that Congress is unable to get anything done. They're too busy living on tradition or trying to outdo or outshout anyone else.

However, all that paled when my cynic (OK, B.S.) meter finally exploded. I had heard this before, but it wasn't until tonight that any of the anchors seemed to make a point of it . . . The Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid had evidently called Mr. Blogojevich to tell him who NOT to appoint (evidently) because they would not be "electable" in the 2010 elections!! No name politicians such as: Jesse Jackson, Jr., Danny Davis or Emil Jones. Now, this has moved from the Keystone Kops to The Perils of Pauline!

While I am using the political situation as a "set-up" this is not basically a political two-part post. Tomorrow I'm going to explore what this cynical attitude can do to me and to those around me ... after all:

"What is a cynic? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing."
---Oscar Wilde (1854 - 1900)

“The opposite of creativity is cynicism”
---Esa Saarinen

"A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin."
---H. L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)

An Elegant Timewaster ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2009-01-07T21:22:00.002-06:00

This has been a very interesting week plus. I will blog about it, once I figure out how I can tell what's going on without divulging too much of what's gone on and how I feel about it . . .

However, today DB sent me this delightful game, art project, time waster or . . . whatever you want to cal l it.

I will warn you ahead of time ~ it is VERY addictive.

When you click on the link (at the bottom of the post) , you might think you didn't get to the right place ... it will look like this:

But if you notice ~ in the upper left corner is a small box ... click your mouse on it and the menu/instructions will be revealed:

As always I am not responsible for lost time, bleary eyes or ignored significant/insignificant others ....

Thanks again DB . . . .

--> Here's the link <--

The Great Morality Question ~ Late Morning Thoughts

2009-01-02T11:40:00.001-06:00

There's the Pillsbury Bake-Off, the Pun-Off in Austin and a small town in Minnesota has started the "Think-Off."

This challenging contest began (as far as I can tell) in 1993 with the question: "The Nature of Humankind: Inherently Good or Inherently Evil?" According to the website, a priest, a newspaper editor, a 15 year-old cheerleader and a former tribal police officer made such strong arguments that the audience couldn't decide if mankind is good or evil, leaving the question forever unresolved.

Since then such questions have been "thought-off" as:

1994: "Does Life Have Meaning?"

1998: "Is Honesty Always the Best Policy?" (again from the wegsite) A record year, the 1998 Think-Off received over 820 essays, and the final debate was broadcast live on C-SPAN. As the country grappled with the spectacle in the White House, the Think-Off audience and the C-SPAN viewing audience, agreed with a soft-spoken priest from New York--honesty is not always the best choice

2002: "Is the Pen Mightier than the Sword? (and the web site says) Paul Higday of Richmond, Virginia said No. It's not a matter of which has the right, but which has the might. In today's world it takes the sword to change societies so the pen can flourish. In order for the pen to be mightier, the people in whose hand it lies must be 'entirely great', said Higday, referring to the 19th century novelist Bulwer-Lytton who said, "Beneath the rule of men entirely great, the pen is mightier than the sword?"

The event is organized by Minnesota's New York Mills Regional Cultural Center, a nonprofit organization dedicated to expanding the cultural and creative opportunities of rural Americans. New York Mills is a farming town of some 1,200 people in central Minnesota, about 170 miles northwest of Minneapolis.

Anyone can enter by submitting an essay of 750 words or less. Four finalists will be chosen to debate the question on June 13 before a live audience.

Last year's question was “Does immigration strengthen or threaten the United States?” The audience decided Craig Allen, of West Linn, Ore., was most convincing with his argument that the system of immigration and immigration policy is broken, that it encourages illegal immigration and poses a threat to the country.

Here's how it works ... go to --> this website <-- and you can read previous essays and debates. There is a link to the entry form --> here <-- . You compose a 750 word essay on this years question ~ "Is it ever wrong to do the right thing?" You submit the essay and it will be judged along with all the others received. And the four finalists will be chosen to debate the topic on June 13th before an audience that will decide. At least one of the debates has been broadcast by C-Span and given all that happened in 2008, I suspect this years topic will generate a lot of interest.

The prize for the four finalists is travel, lodging and $500. They also will appear in the parade on the 12th of June. The final prize(s): Gold, Silver & bronze medals and title of "America's Greatest Thinker".

From the website again:
"Entering the competition is easy. Just submit an essay of 750 words or less by April 1, 2009 (postmark date). You may send your essay in one of three ways: through the mail to Great American Think-Off, New York Mills Regional Cultural Center, P.O. Box 246, New York Mills, MN 56567 or email to nymills@kulcher.org (no attachments)".

My challenge for this year ~ enter this contest . . .

It's That Time Again ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-31T19:53:00.001-06:00

It started in New Zealand

- followed about an hour later in Sydney.

The New Year is being celebrated around the globe - and each area hopes that this year will be better than the last, and not worse!!!

But behind the fireworks, cheers and cheery drinks is an amazing combination of hope and fear. I have to agree with a commentator I heard last night that this combination is almost 50-50 in people. It will be interesting to see which side gains strength in 2009.

The most amazing part - it's up to each of us individually and collectively to decide whether fear or hope will rule. There's an intersting verse in the Bible that talks about "men's hearts will fail for fear" . . . I have NO intention of letting mine go that route. I already went down that road once before, and am NOT going down it again.

Am I doing resolutions - no. Am I making commitments instead - yes. I'm convinced I will have better luck with that then resolutions. Of course, if I really want to make sure I continue on with the commitments/resoltions - I could use the services of -->this web site<-- to keep me on the straight and narrow!!

I am going to continue to blog, with a lot greater frequency and relevancy this year. I'm going to continue to loan money to individuals around the globe through -->Kiva<-- and challenge each of you to take $25 and put it to good use through them AND you get it back . . . it's a loan program after all. Welcome to the New Year

Hey, my lad, ho, my lad!
Here's a New Broom.
Heaven's your housetop
And Earth is your room.
Tuck up your shirtsleeves,
There's plenty to do-
Look at the muddle
That's waiting for you!

Dust in the corners
And dirt on the floor,
Cobwebs still clinging
To window and door.

Hey, my lad! o, my lad!
Nimble and keen-
Here's your New Broom, my lad!
See you sweep clean.

- Eleanor Farjeon

This is probably one of my favorite New Year Videos ~ ABBA around the piano is what it is normally called - and is usually played in Sweden around midnight!!

New Year’s Resolutions

Each year I resolve with the strongest intent
To be better this year than the last.
And I work very hard; the rules hardly get bent,
But this discipline gets old so fast!

But with this new year I just know I’ll win out,
Just watch how I do and you’ll see!
I’m not going to have yet another blowout;
I’ll be good as I know I can be.

But, if wicked things beckon, and I’m not so strong,
If I weaken and fall on my ast,
I’ll be thankful again that you’ll help me along
As you have during all new years past.
I'm so glad you are all my friends!!!

-- Karl and Joanna Fuchs

Happy New Year Everyone!!!!!!

A Disappointment ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-27T20:27:00.000-06:00

I was so hoping that we had moved beyond certain backwater behaviors, that some how we as a people had gotten beyond certain things in our lives that hold us back from reaching our own potential and allowing all others to reach the potential within themselves.

How wrong I was ...

I've been following the controversy over Rick Warren - fed in part by Rachel Maddow (who might be heading down the road of becoming the Ann Coulter of the left). I'd been reading about Illinois Gov. Rod Blagojevich being guilty and defiant at the least of idiotic conversations and possibly more.

But these paled in comparison to the stories about Republican Chip Saltsman, a candidate for the chairmanship of the Republican National Committee distributing as CD titled "We Hate the USA" and includes songs referencing former presidential candidate John Edwards and the Rev. Jeremiah Wright, among other targets.

According to The Hill, other song titles were: "John Edwards' Poverty Tour," "Wright place, wrong pastor," "Love Client #9," "Ivory and Ebony" and "The Star Spanglish Banner."

The big main song according to reports was "Barack, the Magic Negro." (to the tune of "Puff, the Magic Dragon)

Saltsman's lame excuse was "political satire" and "I think RNC members understand that."

Sorry sir ~ They might, I do not. It certainly didn't make it any easier when I found out that the Rush Limbaugh 's radio show had played it first back in 2007. While this is the kind of racist behavior I would expect from Rush and gang, for someone who wants to be considered a serious contender for Chairmanship of the ailing RNC and the ailing party, it certainly was not one of the better ideas he might have had.

The song had it's genesis in an article by David Ehrenstein (who's Father was a Jew and Mother an African American with white Irish roots) who often writes about homosexuality in cinema and in the article talks about the "magic Negro" of cinema and somehow Mr. Ehrenstein makes the leap from the silver screeen to the politcal stage. You can read the article --->here<--- And he certainly would have been upset if someone had written about the "Magic Jew" problem...given his ethnic background.

All this was coupled with realizing that we as a people, have NOT really progressed to where we should be in this day and age ~ and I'm including BOTH sides of the ethnic divide. I hear African Americans say things in public that if someone else were to say them would cause immediate backlash of all kinds. I have gotten e-mails from people I really love containing Obama jokes that not only are tasteless, but border on racist. These kind of things hold someone up to ridicule and show how little we hold them in regard.

SIDE BAR: I need to say here that I do understand satire and political satire...those are both vibrant and valid forms of expression and speech. What is involved here is neither. Satire really doesn't work when it only involves characteristics that someone can no change. For example, Barack Obama can NOT change the color of his skin or his ethnic heritage. Jokes about either are not satire..they are more the old saying of "keeping the uppity in their place." (THAT ring a bell for anyone around in the 60;s?) The fact that Prince Charles ears are rather large and obvious serves as "quick identification" in satire, but if was the only thrust of the story or sketch would not be satire, but rather cruelty.

If goes back to what I have written about before, this kind of behavior simply allows "us" a sense of "control" over the person we have labled as "the enemy." And allows "us" to label them, put them in a box and decide how all behavior toward them will be.

All it does is belittle, cut down and move toward humiliation of people. And for those that are listening (especially children or youth), they form the idea that it's perfectly acceptable to behave in a similar manner. And why shouldn't they? After all they see/hear the actions, speech and "satire" , so it must be alright. It must be "cool."

This reminded me of the lyrics of "You've Got to be Carefully Taught" from South Pacific and I think they are more true today than when they were written:

You've got to be taught
To hate and fear,
You've got to be taught
From year to year,
It's got to be drummed
In your dear little ear
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught to be afraid
Of people whose eyes are oddly made,
And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,
You've got to be carefully taught.

You've got to be taught before it's too late,
Before you are six or seven or eight,
To hate all the people your relatives hate,
You've got to be carefully taught!

Is there a place for satire and political satire? Absolutely!! Satire is a wonderful lens to hold up the mistakes and foibles that the great and near-great and the not-so-hot make. But merely denegrating someone or holding them up to contempt for my own amusment or sense of control isn't.

Dear Lord ~ January 20th can't come soon enough and according to a poll just released 75% of the people asked can hardly wait for the 20th as well!!!

O Wonderous Night ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-24T21:23:00.001-06:00

'Tis Christmas Eve. It's been an interesting season, one of some sadness, much joy and continued exploration of what life holds. And so, on this Christmas Eve I offer to you one of my absolute favorite stories of all time, just as it was written.

Merry Christmas Everyone!!!! ~

THE GIFT OF THE MAGI

by O. Henry

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.

While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week. It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the lookout for the mendicancy squad.

In the vestibule below was a letter-box into which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name "Mr. James Dillingham Young."

The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, though, they were thinking seriously of contracting to a modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs. James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very good.

Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag. She stood by the window and looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87 with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a little bit near to being worthy of the honor of being owned by Jim.

There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.

Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.

Now, there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the queen of Sheba lived in the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window some day to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at his beard from envy.

So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her rippling and shining like a cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn red carpet.

On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door and down the stairs to the street.

Where she stopped the sign read: "Mne. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large, too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."

"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.

"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the looks of it."

Down rippled the brown cascade.

"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a practised hand.

"Give it to me quick," said Della.

Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present.

She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she knew that it must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value--the description applied to both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the 87 cents. With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old leather strap that he used in place of a chain.

When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a tremendous task, dear friends--a mammoth task.

Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.

"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do--oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"

At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.

Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."

The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.

Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.

Della wriggled off the table and went for him.

"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say `Merry Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice-- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."

"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.

"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow? I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"

Jim looked about the room curiously.

"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.

"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"

Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion will be illuminated later on.

Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and threw it upon the table.

"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first."

White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powers of the lord of the flat.

For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims--just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.

But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"

And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"

Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of her bright and ardent spirit.

"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."

Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.

"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."

The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.

But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest.

O all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest.

Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.

Slightly Over The Edge ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-22T21:46:00.000-06:00

Honest - my mind has NOT checked out because of the coming holiday ~ But these two items have been on the back burner for so long, they were about to dry out . . . especially the X-Files Christmas story. It's slightly over 500 words, but I'll forgive them!

Signs Santa Doesn't Like Your Kid

- 10 -
Kid's letter to north pole comes back stamped, "Dream on, Chester!"
- 9 -
Kid asks for new bike, gets pack of smokes
- 8 -
Along with presents, Santa leaves hefty bill for shipping and handling
- 7 -
By the time he gets to your house, all he has left are styrofoam peanuts
- 6 -
Christmas day, your kid wakes up with a Reindeer head in his bed.
- 5 -
Instead of "Naughty" or "Nice", Santa has him on the dork list
- 4 -
Sends him off on one of them Carnival Cruises with Kathie Lee
- 3 -
First words when kid gets on his lap are, "Touch my beard and I'll put the hurt on you."
- 2 -
Labels on all your kid's toys read "Straight from Craptown."
- 1 -
Four words: "Off my lap, Tubby!"

(Source: Top Ten Lists from LATE SHOW with DAVID LETTERMAN)

The X-FILES Christmas Case
author unknown

"We're too late! It's already been here."

"Mulder, I hope you know what you're doing."

"Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into a shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care."

"You really think someone's been here?"

"Someone or some THING."

"Mulder, over here - it's a fruitcake."

"Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal."

"It's O.K. There's a note attached: 'Gonna find out who's naughty and nice.'"

"It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite."

"But that's legend, Mulder -- a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely you don't believe it?"

"Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive -- and in a hurry."

"It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained."

"It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse."

"But why would they leave it milk and cookies?"

"Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding."

"But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry."

"Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace."

"Wait a minute, Mulder. If you're saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down this chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get down there."

"But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions at once?"

"You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?"

"Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father."

"Impossible."

"I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW THAT I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD!"

"I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you're saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files."

"Scully, listen to me: It knows when you're sleeping. It knows when you're awake."

"But we have no proof."

"Last year, on this exact date, SETI radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red."

"But that was a meteor shower."

"Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo, in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist the public will stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night."

"Mulder, I --"

"Sh-h-h. Do you hear what I hear?"

"On the roof. It sounds like . . . a clatter."

"The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter."

12 days of Christmas ~ What REALLY happened!! ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-20T17:02:00.000-06:00

You won't see this on a TV commercial - when gift-giving goes wrong - horribly wrong!!

The Twelve Days of Christmas ~
What Really Happened...

Letter sent on the first day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 14, 2000

Dearest John:

I went to the door today and the postman delivered a partridge in a pear tree. What a thoroughly delightful gift. I couldn't have been more surprised.
With deepest love and devotion,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the second day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 15, 2000

Dearest John:

Today the postman brought your very sweet gift. Just imagine two turtle doves. I'm just delighted at your very thoughtful gift. They are just adorable.
All my love,
Jennifer

Letter sent on the third day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 16, 2000

Dearest John:

Oh! Aren't you the extravagant one. Now I really must protest. I don't deserve such generosity, Three French hens. They are just darling but I must insist, you've been too kind.
Love,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the fourth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 17, 2000

Dear John,

Today the postman delivered 4 calling birds. Now really, they are beautiful but don't you think enough is enough. You're being too romantic.
Affectionately,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the fifth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 18, 2000

Dearest John:

What a surprise. Today the postman delivered 5 golden rings; one for every finger. You're just impossible, but I love it. Frankly, all those birds squawking were beginning to get on my nerves.
All my love,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the sixth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 19, 2000

Dear John:

When I opened the door there were actually 6 geese a-laying on my front steps. So, you're back to the birds again, huh? Those geese are huge. Where will I ever keep them? The neighbors are complaining and I can't sleep through the racket.
Please stop.

Cordially,
Jennifer

Letter mailed on the seventh day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 20, 2000

John:

What's with you and those crazy birds? 7 swans a-swimming. What kind of terrible joke is this? There's bird droppings and worse all over the house, and they never stop with the racket. I can't sleep at night and I'm a nervous wreck. It's not funny. So stop sending me all these birds!
Sincerely,
Jennifer

Letter mailed by special delivery the eighth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 21, 2000

O.K. Buster:

I think I prefer the birds. What am I going to do with 8 maids a-milking? It's not enough with all those birds and 8 maids a-milking, but they had to bring their cows! There is crap all over the lawn and I can't move in my own house.
Just lay off me,smart ass.
Jennifer

Letter mailed (return receipt requested) the ninth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 22, 2000

Hey! Flushing Toilet for Brains,
What are you? Some kind of sadist? Now there's 9 pipers playing. And boy, do they play. They've never stopped chasing those maids since they got here yesterday morning. The cows are getting upset, and they're stepping all over those screeching birds. What am I going to do? The neighbors have started a petition to evict me.
You'll get yours,
Jennifer

Letter sent by overnight courier the tenth day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 23, 2000

You Rotten Sadist,
Now there's 10 ladies dancing. I don't know why I call those sluts ladies. They've been messing with those pipers all night long. Now the cows can't sleep and they've got the diarrhea. My living room buried in soft cow pies. The Commissioner of Buildings has subpoenaed me to give cause why this building shouldn't be condemned.
I'm sicking the police on you.
One who means it.

Letter sent by telegram the eleventh day of Christmas...

Miss Jennifer Masters
227 Aggar Avenue
Bigfork, Montana

December 24, 2000

Listen! Loser,
What's with the 11 lords a-leaping on those maids and ladies. Some of them are considering filing sexual harassment charges against ME for having those #@$*() lords! Those pipers ran through the maids and I'm convinced are beginning to think about the cows. All 23 of the birds are dead. They've been trampled to death in the mayhem. I hope you're satisfied,you rotten, vicious swine.
Your sworn enemy,
Jennifer

Letter hand delivered by a sheriff's deputy the twelfth day of Christmas...

Law Offices
Badger, Bender and Cajole
303 Knave Street
Chicago, Illinois

December 25, 2000

Dear Sir:
This is to acknowledge your latest gift of 12 fiddlers fiddling which you have seen fit to inflict on our client, Miss Jennifer Masters. The destruction of the house, of course, was total. All future correspondence should come to our attention. If you should attempt to reach Miss Masters at Happy Valley Sanitarium, the attendants have instructions to shoot you on sight.
Please note that under separate cover, the deputy who delivered this has a warrant for your arrest.
Wishing you the best for the holidays!
Badger, Bender and Cajole

Helping The Gene Pool ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-18T21:52:00.000-06:00

I have to admit I've been watching a lot more "news" television than I should over the last several days. I've reached a stage of "You have GOT to be kidding me" over what the talking, frothing heads are choosing to be talking and frothing about. I really was needing something to make the day(s) better - something to offer some kind of hope.

Even though it's too early for the official "Darwin Awards" - they will come probably in January, there are some nominations that I thought I might share. The published purpose of the awards is stated quite simply:

The Darwin Awards salute the improvement of
the human genome by honoring those who
accidentally remove themselves from it...

These stories have been verified and are not urban legend. . . .

(July 16, 2008, Italy) Ivece Plattner, 68, was queued at a traffic light in his Porsche Cayenne sportscar. Before one reaches the light, there is a railroad crossing. As you might imagine, given Murphy's law, a train was coming.

The man did not let the queue progress forward far enough before he crossed the railroad. The safety bars came down, leaving the Porsche trapped on the rails. It took the driver awhile to realize he was stuck, according to witnesses. Finally, he jumped from the car and started to run -- toward the oncoming train, waving his arms in an attempt to save his car!

The attempt was successful. The car received less damage than its owner. He was pushed hard enough to land 30 meters away, and attempts to revive him were unsuccessful.

---

(8 March 2008, Czech Republic) Steel is valuable, especially the high grade alloy used in steel cable. Scrap metal dealers do not ask questions. They pay in cash. And a good supply of cables can be found in elevator shafts.

This particular goldmine was a towering shaft inside an empty grainery near Zatec, 40 miles northwest of Prague. The cable was tightly fastened, and the far end of it disappeared into the shadowy distance above.

After substantial wear and tear on a hacksaw, our man finally cut through the strong steel cable. At that instant, the counterbalance, no longer held in check, started to move silently downwards, accelerating until it reached the bottom of the shaft.

Result: one proud winner of a "terminal velocity" Darwin Award.

R.I.P.

---

The telephone company was replacing above-ground telephone lines with buried lines. In one sparsely populated farming area, if lines crossed a country road they would dig a trench halfway across, so rural traffic could continue through. Then they would fill in the trench, and dig a trench on the other side.

One morning, local farmers called the sheriff to report a smashed-up pickup. Inside were two ranch hands who were last seen the previous night, heading home after last call. You see...

On their way to the bars, the men had decided to play a prank. They stopped their pickup, and moved the flashing warning signs from the trenched side to the good side of the country road. Crime scene analysis later confirmed that they were the culprits who moved the flashing stands. Investigations also revealed that at the time of the accident, they were driving at an excessive speed with an impressive amount of alcohol in their systems.

No crime scene analysis is capable of determining whether the ranch hands forgot their prank, or chose to see what would happen if they hit that trench at a high rate of speed in the middle of the night.

No good prank goes unpunished.

---

Snowmobiles and alcohol are a dangerous mix. Then came the rabbit.

After a day spent partying and racing snowmobiles in the wilderness, a group of snowmobilers were headed back to their cabin, when up popped a jackrabbit! They gave chase. Several collisions were narrowly averted, and so all the snowmobiles backed off... except one.

This snowmobiler kept his eye on the quarry and rapidly closed in. The rabbit darted aside to save itself. The snowmobiler closed in again. The rabbit ran toward the road, where there was less snow. Trying to ram his rabbit before it crossed the road, the man accelerated to Mach 1.

But the rabbit had other ideas. It darted into the culvert beneath the road. Witnesses stated that the snowmobiler never even braked. There was a metallic crunch as the accelerating vehicle rammed into the culvert, followed by a blast that shattered the snowmobile into a thousand bits.

This brand of snowmobile had a fuel tank mounted in front. The culvert admitted the tip of the snowmobile, then cut into the cowling, spilling fuel over the hot engine. The body of the snowmobiler was blown twenty feet back into the field.

The rabbit's whereabouts was unknown.

---Rare Double Darwin!

Three hale and hearty young men had finished their basic training. Before heading out to their respective assignments, they decided to spend their few days of leave with one's grandmother, who lived in the town where they had completed basic training. The privates descended upon Grandmother, who filled them with home cooking and gave them soft beds to sleep in. Grandmother had a swing job to make ends meet, so the privates were left alone late into the night.

How could they repay her for her kindness?

Grandmother had three children. To commemorate the birth of each child, a pine tree had been planted in the front yard. In the fifty years since the last tree was planted, the pines had grown considerably, and the middle tree now blocked the view from the living room window. The privates decided that they would cut down that tree, letting the sun and the view into the room.

A case of beer went into the planning.

To keep the 50-foot tree from crushing the house, the privates reasoned that they would tie a rope to the top of the tree and pull the rope away from the house as the tree was cut.

The middle pine tree, the doomed one, was slightly closer to the house than the other two. The privates climbed an end tree, wound a rope through its upper branches, and threw the rope to a private in the middle tree. He tied the rope around the trunk. By this device, they could pull the rope from the ground. The middle pine tree would fall away from the house, and the privates were also clear of the path of the falling tree.

Climbing a pine tree is very sappy work, and scrapes and gouges are infliced by the natural roughness of its bark. But the hale and hearty privates completed the preliminaries without complaint. The middle tree was lassoed and levered by the rope running through the end tree.

So far, so good.

Two privates were situated on the ground, each straining to pull the tree away from Grandmother's house. The third private revved his 20 HP chainsaw and started to cut. Lo and behold, the tree actually fell away from Grandmother's house! However...

The rope-pulling privates had wrapped the rope around their waists, not considering that the falling pine weighed several tons. As the middle pine tree fell, both privates were ripped off their feet and smashed through the branches of the end pine tree. At the height of their acceleration, they broke through the top branches of the tree, and were briefly airborne before being jerked toward the earth when the middle tree hit the ground. The privates entered into Darwin history, either on the way up through the branches or on the way down to the cold, hard ground.

The event spoke for itself.

---

Somehow not being able to get the garland hung outside today seems to pale in comparison.

A Politically Correct ... Holiday ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-17T21:02:00.002-06:00

The holiday season approaches, and the mail deadlines loom; yesterday was the last day to send regular mail to arrive for the holidays. While we sing of "Peace on Earth, Goodwill to non-gender specific personages," I thought it would be good time to look over somethings about what now has to be a politically correct holiday!

Here's something for that last minute gift:

Should you go a'caroling, I would be remiss if I didn't give you the correct version to sing:

Deck The Halls

Kristine Austin

This song uses the Spanish protocol endings on the refrain:
"Fa la la la la, la la la la-" Feminine
"Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo-" Masculine

Deck the halls with boughs of non-endangered plant species
Fa la la la la, la la la la

'Tis the season to be self-actualizing
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Don we now our alternate-lifestyle apparel
Fa la la la la, la la la la

Toll the ancient non-sectarian-winter-solstice-equal opportunity holiday carol
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

See the blazing log of non-sectarian-winter-solstice-holiday-non-endangered wood before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la

Play the harp without unnecessary brutality and join the new paradigm chorus
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Sing we emotionally stable in a collective group effort,
Fa la la la la la la la la

Heedless of the weather patterns despite the effects of global warming,
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Fast away the mature year passes
Fa la la la la la la la la

Hail the new year without any implicit ageism, ye persons
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

Dance in a non-hierarchical manner in merry esoteric measure,
Fa la la la la la la la la

While I tell of non-materialistic, non-sectarian-winter-solstice-holiday treasure,
Fo lo lo lo lo, lo lo lo lo

And hopefully, your cards will reflect the new found sense of the time of year.

A Politically Correct
Holiday (or no holiday) Greeting

Best wishes for an environmentally conscious, socially responsible, low stress, non-addictive, gender neutral, winter solstice holiday, practiced within the most joyous traditions of the religious persuasion of your choice, but with respect for the religious persuasion of others who choose to practice their own religion as well as those who choose not to practice a religion at all;

Additionally, a fiscally successful, personally fulfilling, and medically uncomplicated recognition of the generally accepted calendar year 2006, but not without due respect for the calendars of choice of other cultures whose contributions have helped make our society great, without regard to the race, creed, color, religious, or sexual preferences of the wishes.

(Disclaimer: This greeting is subject to clarification or withdrawal. It implies no promise by the wisher to actually implement any of the wishes for her/himself or others and no responsibility for any unintended emotional stress these greetings may bring to those not caught up in the holiday spirit.)

---this is a repeat, but bears repeating!!

Blue, Blue - My Love Is Blue ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-16T20:27:00.003-06:00

After having been away for a "few" weeks, I thought my return to the blog would be somewhat unnoticed. Two emails quickly settled that idea. So, as promised ~ an explanation of "blue" ice . . . And while I explain this, my vice-president is at an undisclosed secure location.

In the 80's I worked for a major airline. Which one is somewhat immaterial, but I will offer the hint that it was in bankruptcy at the time with the pilots doing very interesting things to let everyone know we were operating that way.

Those of us in reservations were an unusual group of people. Because we were not at the airport, we were considered somewhat apart from the rest of the world. Although, in our customers minds we were the ticket counter and as such should be able to see people who were there or, in one case find out if someone had left a briefcase on the floor. I was sitting next to the person who got that call, and hear him say: "OK, let me look - OMG someone just walked off with it . . . " When he finally got the person on the phone calmed down and got him convinced that indeed he really wasn't at the airport and wasn't able to check for the missing item - he'd earned a trip to his supervisor. . . and not a pleasant one either.

As reservation agents we had a fairly powerful reservation system to use. We had access to multiple "windows" which allowed us to look up various types of information and display them all on the same screen. We could look up flights in one, fares in another, airport weather in yet another and return flights in a fourth.

As reservation agents we were supposed to only work on screens that had to do with the business of reservations. Alas for the airline, that was NOT the case. It wasn't too long after I started working there that I was introduced to the "dark side" of the system. (cue theme from Jaws here. . . )

We were connected to the various airports, hotels and car companies who all had sites resident in the system. There was no Expedia/Travelocity connection that allowed someone to go directly to another reservation system. All entries involving cars, hotels or such involved requesting what you wanted and pushing enter. At that point an electronic message would be sent (as I told my travel academy students) to the Valhalla of all computer requests - Actually ARINC (Aeronautical Radio, Incorporated)located in Chicago who would, in their own sweet time, send back an answer.

That's a long way around to say that hotels and cars kept quite a bit of detailed information available - all on "pages." They were updated by that company or by the airline itself. What was discovered was that - with a specific entry - we as reservation agents could update them as well. And a completely immediate, unmanageable and totally private system of IM's were born.

One that was used a lot was XXX car company - page 100. That XXX would ever get to that page was pretty slim - as in none. The chance that the reservations office supervisors or later the travel academy people would discover what was going on - even less.

That was an amazing world - IM's before IM's had even been invented, conversations with people from all over who knew of the place and some very seedy, funny and downright erotic stories and such. The kind of talk that would get one banned from AOL ... but very few knew about it.

That, however, is for a later post -- especially how those private conversations came back to bite me in the butt and cost me a job.

Blue Ice - quoting from Wikipedia: "Blue ice in the context of aviation is the frozen material formed by leaks in commercial aircraft lavatory waste tanks, a mixture of human waste and liquid disinfectant that freezes at high altitude. The name comes from the blue color of the disinfectant, and is a sardonic reference to the Blue Ice line of products used for cooling ice chests and similar applications.

Airlines are not allowed to dump their waste tanks in mid-flight, and pilots have no mechanism by which to do so; however, leaks can occur. There were at least 27 documented incidents of blue ice impacts in the United States between 1979 and 2003. These incidents typically happen under airport landing paths as the mass warms sufficiently to detach from the plane during its descent. A rare incident of falling blue ice causing damage to the roof of a home was reported on October 20, 2006 in Chino, California.

On January 28, 2007 at the Timberlanes subdivision in Tampa, Florida, under the approach path to Tampa International Airport, a red Mustang automobile owned by Andres Javaze was struck by a large block of ice estimated at 50 pounds which crushed the rear of the vehicle. A neighbor named Raymond Rodriguez reported hearing a whistling or whizzing noise as the ice fell from the sky before impact and watched as it smashed the vehicle. However, the chunk of ice was not blue and is not thought to have fallen from an airplane. The incident is being investigated by the FAA.

Blue ice became known to many people from the last 2003 episode of the HBO series Six Feet Under, in which a foot-sized chunk drops on an innocent bystander. It is also the title of a 1992 film where Michael Caine's character describes the concept of blue ice,and it also described on the tv show MANswers ."

Now, as reservation agents we had access to a lot of information, but nothing that involved maintenance or inner workings of the airport. . . until someone discovered that (long before blogs) someone at the airport was writing the "Blue Ice Newsletter" in the computer. Whoever was writing this had an acid sense of humor, biting wit and a complete command of what was happening on the ground/tarmac and mechanics role in the controlled chaos.

Who knew that airplane parts were interchangeable from one type of airplane to another? Who knew that "tug" operators (those zippy little luggage and plane pushing/hauling carts) could do so much damage. Who knew that it was possible for a few mechanics to service more planes than they should have - and get them in the air. Who knew that by canceling a return flight of an overseas trip, they were cannibalizing the parts into other aircraft - sending them on their way and when they returned, the parts would be pulled and the return trip of the overseas flight would "continue."

The author of "Blue Ice" knew, and it was written in black and white - well, more green - and was intended for airport personnel only. Don't ever put a members only sign on a site like that - at that time reservations would find out about it and pile in. And we did. We could find out about cancellations before anyone else and other interesting tidbits about what to fly and what might be best avoided.

Ever since then - "blue ice" has come to mean to me, something that simply continues to unfold in a highly dramatic and damaging way. Something that appears to be complete chaos - without form and void. Something that will simply not go away. Even when the tanks have been pumped. (OK, just how did you think those tanks on aircraft got emptied? By the blue ice elves?)

And since it's a mixture of excrement and disinfectant - the analogy is right there in ~~plane~~ plain sight.

--- more to come

Just A Thought ~ Early Morning Thoughts

2008-12-16T10:04:00.003-06:00

I ran across this delightful quote the other day and the more I thought about it, the more intrigued I became . . .

This seems to be one of those simple sentences that becomes more interesting the more you think about it:

"You can not talk yourself out of a problem you behave yourself into. . . . "

And The Ice Continues To Flow ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-12T19:52:00.001-06:00

I'll have more to say about all this over the next few days ~ I'm using the excuse that they need to play out a little more (my story and I'm sticking to it). I continue to watch the unfolding of the "sturm und drang" of the Illinois Governor. the auto hand-out . . . uh . . . bail-out, home foreclosures, the frothing at the mouth TV talking heads (with or without a grip on truth and/or reality), the money lost in "helping" the banks survive and such.

What started as a slight feeling in the back of my brain finally moved to the front (a sometimes arduous journey!) and I was reminded of one of the most famous and effective theater posters of ALL time.

Nothing like a little 'Liza crossing the ice to get things going!!!

--More on this later!!

P.S. I was going to title this And The (Blue) Ice Continues To Flow, but I'll explain that later as well . . . .

A Tardy Celebration ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-12-12T19:27:00.005-06:00

In my last post (oh so many weeks ago) I teased about an important celebration that was coming up. That date ~ the 27th of August ~ is very important to me. Actually, all days are now important to me. On the 27th of August, last year, I began a journey back from the edge of having no edge at all.

So - the announcement? On the 27th of this month I will be celebrating one year and four months of sane(r) and sober life. As those who have followed this blog (through its ups and downs) will know that each of these dates represent a real milestone. I'm enjoying my life, considering I almost didn't have one ~ and waking each day with a sense of renewal and hope.

I'll be talking more about the recent journey, such as the fun of the knee replacements, the JOY of hurricanes and learning that no matter how young my mind is convinced I am - the body wants to tell me a very, very different story.

So, welcome back! To me and to you!! Pull up a chair, and we'll continue to talk about it all.

Please Pass (Over) The Nuts ~ Late Morning Thoughts

2008-08-10T11:45:00.005-05:00

Christian Hate And Christian Witchcraft

Christian Hate:
This week the Westboro Baptist Church (God Hates Everyone Except Us) founded by Fred Phelps (Godhatesfags.com) tried to go into Canada to hold a hate-filled protest at the funeral of the innocent man who was decapitated on a bus trip. Quoting from Paul Gackle,Winnipeg Free Press as published in the National Post:

"Residents rallied Thursday to protect the family of a young man murdered on a Greyhound bus last week from a posse of radical religious protesters planning to portray Tim McLean's death as God's wrath.

Earlier this week, the Westboro Baptist Church - an organization branded as a hate group and infamous for protesting the funerals of slain U.S. soldiers - announced they would picket Mr. McLean's funeral to let Canadians know that his decapitation was God's response to Canadian policies enabling abortion, homosexuality and adultery.

But Shirley Phelps-Roper, daughter of church's founder, Fred Phelps, said a small group of protesters was stopped at the Canada-U.S. border on Thursday afternoon.

"They won't let us in, but we have a group that will cross in another spot," she said. "They'll have to strip search everyone who crosses that border or they won't know who we are. They'll have to see the WBC (Westboro Baptist Church) tattoo on our butts."

The resistance to the planned funeral protest started on Facebook yesterday morning when Jim Cotton, a resident of Winnipeg Beach, launched a page asking city residents to help protect Mr. McLean's funeral. . .

. . . Mr. Cotton was outraged and asked Winnipeg Facebookers to circle around the seven picketers tomorrow and pray for Mr. McLean's family.

By mid-afternoon Thursday, Mr. Cotton's page had over 100 friends. Rodney Taylor, an Ottawa resident, found the page and pitched in.

Mr. Taylor phoned the Prime Minister's Office, Public Safety Minister Stockwell Day's office and border services, asking them to keep the Westboro group out of the country. He also created his own Facebook page urging other offended Canadians to follow his lead.

"These people are callous, vicious and shouldn't be let into our country," he said. "We have freedom of speech, but they are inciting hate."

Mr. Taylor's plan worked. Winnipeg NDP MP Pat Martin said his office was flooded with phone calls yesterday from angry Winnipeggers.

"These people [from Westboro] are almost as crazy as the murderer," he said. "If they are here to disrupt the social order, that constitutes grounds to deny them entry. There is no redeeming virtue in the message they are bringing."

According to Mr. Martin, Mr. Day's office sent an alert to border patrol to "look out" for people with signs and pamphlets that fit the hateful messages that the church promotes and to keep them out of the country.

"In the opinion of his office, coming up here with the message they're articulating constitutes hate speech," said Mr. Martin.

Members of the Kansas-based fundamentalist sect were already planning to picket in Canada prior to last week's bus slaying. The group was scheduled to protest in Toronto Thursday night at the opening of playwright Alistair Newton's "The Pastor Phelps Project: a fundamentalist cabaret", which satirizes their leader's fervent anti-gay stance. . .

. . .In 1999, the Canadian government said it was powerless to prevent Mr. Phelps from entering the country when he was planning a protest in Ottawa over a Supreme Court ruling extending rights to gays and lesbians.

At that time, the government said the minister could only make exceptions at the border to grant people entry who might otherwise be denied, not deny people entry who would normally be admitted. . .

. . .The Winnipeg Police Service said they were not planning to block the funeral protest if the group successfully crossed the border, but they were prepared to be on hand if necessary. "

This hate group was a no-show at the funeral ~ citing concerns for their safety - but in actuality they must have realized that they lost the opportunity for publicity as 250 Winnipeg residents were on hand to protect the funeral and the family.

What troubles me so much is that this group - while spewing hatred for everything and everyone that doesn't believe in them are now trying to export this brand of hatred. Adding insult to injury, they are also spewing in the name of God, that God has already decided who is going to Heaven and who is going to Hell, so it makes no difference what you do - (unless you're a Westboro church member - which automatically grants you access through the Golden Gates). I'm not going to get into the murky waters of predestination and/or pre-ordination. But rather the manner they are going about it.

The church itself (as a non-profit organization) is supported by the donations of its members and those who share their perverted view of God's law and God's attributes. And without publicity, their donations would, in fact, start to dry up. Trained as a lawyer, Fred Phelps was disbarred in 1979 by the Kansas Supreme Court, which asserted that he had “little regard for the ethics of his profession.” Which says a lot to me.

Once a group moves from sharing what they believe and trying to beat people into submission of ONLY what they believe ~ they have moved into being a cult, not a belief. But to this group of hate-mongers it makes no difference. They have become publicity whores and donation driven. How else could he and his family afford all these trips to perform at "20,000 protests" (their claim) and put fairly well done videos on the web? Being non-profit gives them incredible tax advantages which helps fund their activities.

But here's what troubles me the most. What is it within people that makes them believe in this kind of activity and speech? Is it within each of us to fall into this kind of trap? Is there something within me that festers and decays that would allow me to live in that kind of hate and fear? That's the troublesome question. I have some very strong held beliefs, could those turn into a driving force pushing me "over the edge?"

--thus endeth part one of today's meditation

Please Pass (Over) The Nuts (2)~ Late Morning Thoughts

2008-08-10T10:45:00.005-05:00

Christian Hate and Christian Witchcraft ~

Christian Witchcraft ~

As I grew up in what would be considered a fairly conservative family, church was always present in the schedule of our household. There was Sunday School where I argued with my teacher over the length of the days in Creation. Church services where I watched the church split one Easter Sunday morning.

But often there was the prayer meeting/Bible Study night. which was very interesting to me growing up in the 40's - 60's. There were the ladies that looked as if they hadn't smiled in 20 years - much less laughed - announcing that they were so glad they had the JOY down in their hearts. There was gossip disguised in request form to make it legal ~ "Let's pray for Sister Thomas to have strength as her husband has been seen with another woman." As I was somewhat young to really understand this, it was later in my own struggles with what I would believe that I came to these realizations. And it was late in the struggle that I came to understand the last of these ~ Christian Witchcraft. "And let Sister Abigail's husband be stricken with a disease that will keep him from drinking every again. Let any mouthful of alcohol make him deathly sick." "Do what it takes to turn Sam around - be it disease or even death."

Later I was to realize the audacity of those kind of statements. The sheer impertenance of the approach and the fact it was simply practicing witchcraft ~ of a Christian kind. This was moving beyond asking God to do something FOR someone and into asking God to do something TO someone. And it was a minister who labeled that Christian Witchcraft.

Recently - Stuart Shepard, who produces videos for Focus on the Family and hosts a video segment titled Stoplight, --> released a video <-- asking people to pray. Not a bad thing in my opinion, but it was WHAT was being asked that really bothered me. He is asking for everyone to pray for rain the night that Barack Obama speaks outdoors at the Democratic National Convention.

We're not just talking a little rain either. This man would have us ask for a torrential, flooding downpour. Something of epic proportions . . . that would, of course, destroy the theatrics of the evening. Talk about asking God to do something TO someone. So, somehow, we are being asked to perform a rain-dance prayer of some kind in order to ruin someone's time in the limelight?

Regardless of what you believe, the Bible is quite firm ~ that kind of behavior is a real no-no. And in the Old Testament (and the Torah) the penalty for it and participating is rather profound and life-ending. (Of course, tacking Christian in front of it makes it perfectly acceptable right?)

Before the e-mails start coming, let me say this - I am NOT against prayer ~ I am not against prayer. What I am against, is using it as a weapon to hurt or damage someone. I know all the theological arguments, and I've used some of them. But, in this case and using prayer this way I am saying is wrong - wrong - wrong. What I am against, is using prayer as some kind of weapon against someone who is innocent or has not wronged in any way.

So often, we barge into the Throne Room with our demands in hand, often based on very shaky ground to demand from the Creator something we feel we have a right to or should have . . . handing the Almighty (of any religion) a contract that has neither been signed nor seen.

Mr. Shepard tried to pass off his video as "boyish humor" - but it seems to me that both he and Fred Phelps have forgotten on of the major tenants of the New Testament mainly ~

"But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven. For He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and the unjust." Matthew 5:43-45

--thus endeth the 2nd rant

Golden Eggs (2) ~ Early Morning Thoughts`

2008-08-06T02:00:00.001-05:00

Last night I recounted a fable about the golden goose that laid golden eggs.

"[While many people see the story as a warning against greed or even the more you produce, the more you do, the more effective you will be.] . . . I suggest that within this fable is a natural law, a principle - the basic definition of effectiveness True effectiveness is a function of two things: what is produced (the golden eggs) and the producing asset or capacity to produce (the goose).

If you adopt a pattern of life that focuses on golden eggs and neglects the goose, you will soon be without the asset that produces golden eggs. On the other hand, if you only take care of the goose with no aim toward the golden eggs, you soon won't have the wherewithal to feed yourself or the goose."1

At this point, I basically had an epiphany about some of what I had been doing in the past and even recently. (Epiphany can be a "nice" word for getting smacked in the back of the head with a 2x4)

I learned there are three kinds of assets - physical, financial and human.
Three years ago, I purchased a good computer. Later I purchased a very good monitor...(not to play World of Warcraft, of course) And over time, I've given some thought to their maintenance and upkeep - but not as much as I should have. Now, the computer is in need of some attention, by someone that is a little more knowledgeable than I am about serious maintenance. I was actually looking at the short-term and had started to run this asset down. Of course, I can say the same about my body - and trust me there is a LOT of work to be done there. (major overhaul for 600, Alex)

The next asset is financial. And I've had to make some changes there as well. Not that I, at this point, have to worry - but if I were to continue living my life as if tomorrow didn't matter, I would soon be having to worry about tomorrow. Of course, our ability to earn and manage money is a financial asset as well. But, there will come a time when perhaps I won't be able to earn money and I don't want to do things that will get in the way of the now.

A year and a half ago, I took a job as a by-the-week apartment manager 1) because it was supposedly right up my alley and 2) it was going to pay me a salary that was much higher than the level of the job seemed to be. It was what seemed to be a good opportunity. Lots of promises were made and I signed on at the interview. The fact also that I had been without work for sometime might have played a part in it as well.

Now that I look back - especially with the golden goose in mind - I realize that this fable DOES contain principles. The properties were owned by a ~~slumlord~~ less than honorable group of people. There were serious maintenance issues, etc. I thought at the time, if I can only get the rents collected, keep the tenants happy keep moving people into empty apartments and get whatever maintenance needs accomplished I can within the system that I would be fine.

Right at the start what was being produced (the rents) was getting much more attention than the capacity to produce (the apartments). And as I look back over some of my posts about the place, I knew what was going to happen much earlier then I admitted it to myself. And now, I'm doing in six days what "normal" apartment managers do in four weeks. And each week I got the privilege of starting all over again.

So now, I'm fighting my ability to collect rents/fill apartments/evict those who don't pay/keep the central family office happy (what is being produced) by my constant frustration over what isn't happening and my feelings of sheer terror at losing the job and not having an income (producing capacity) as well as being determined to please the "boss.".

Up until the last several weeks (the change due to a lost lawsuit about overtime) managers were basically on-call 24/7 and worked seven days a week. Something was going to give, and I can tell you - as far as the family was concerned - it wasn't going to be what was being produced.

As I began to spiral downward from all that was going on - to say nothing of what I was fighting mentally that I didn't even realize - I have to say that my rent collections were the best in the entire system of apartments (in three states). I had a positive balance on the spreadsheets - the bible of the owning family - and everyone had basically paid all that was owed and some were even ahead.

--more on this tomorrow
_______________
1. 7 Habits of Highly Effective People - Stephen R. Covey pg. 56

And She Runs For President ~ Thank You John McCain

2008-08-06T00:10:00.000-05:00

by now, this has probably been passed in everyone's e-mails or had a gazillion views on YouTube. After I recovered from laughing incredibly hard the first time I saw it - after I watched it three more times to make sure it REALLY was her . . . I had to give in and do one of my infrequent video posts. Just don't drink liquids while watching -unless your keyboard and monitor are protected!!!

Golden Eggs ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2008-08-04T23:13:00.000-05:00

With tropical storm Eduard bearing down, people are beginning preparations for what may/might happen ... where I live in Houston, we will probably have plenty of rain and some wind. As with tropical storms/hurricanes they have a tendency to keep their intentions fairly close to the chest and don't play their cards until the last possible moment.

Lat week I finally got a copy of a book that has been available for a number of years. I have e-mailed the author for permission to do some quotes from the book, but tonight I wanted to start with a story the author tells. It was a story I'd heard a number (?!) of times before - but where I am on this journey now - this time it really spoke to me on a number of different levels. (with apologies to Aesop and others)

There once was a man who by being blessed with good fortune was given a goose in exchange for some work that he did. While he was not happy with only getting a goose, he thought it would at least make a good dinner as it seemed very fat and actually quite content.

He took it home and placed the goose in a box by the fireplace so that it could stay warm and stay within sight.

In the morning when he looked in the box the goose had been in - he was astonished to see a golden egg. One golden egg. Knowing this was quite valuable, he took it into market and sold it for quite a good sum of money. He was pleased.

Each morning he checked the goose's box and each morning there was yet another golden egg - each as valuable as the first one.

This went on for sometime and eventually the man became somewhat impatient. Rather than having just one egg a day, he began to wonder why they goose didn't lay two or three. . . or even more.

He began to realize that the goose must have either gold inside or a lot of golden eggs. So, early one morning - right after the goose had laid yet another golden treasure, the man killed it.

He quickly cut it open expecting to find a treasure that would make him rich and powerful for his entire life. He was to find nothing other than what any goose or living creature would have inside.

And now, he was left with a hacked up goose not fit for cooking and no goose to lay golden eggs.

For years I've heard the "moral" of the story as "greed can overreach itself" or "haste makes waste" or "what some people have is never enough." But there is a very different approach to the story that really had me evaluating my life and somethings that I've done. Not that they were "bad", so to speak - but perhaps there might have been a better way...

--more tomorrow

By the way - I thought you might enjoy the Indian version of the story - this was translated and published in 1895.

The Golden Mallard
from The Jataka

Once upon a time when Brahmadatta was reigning in Benares, the Bodhisatta was born a Brahmin, and growing up was married to a bride of his own rank, who bore him three daughters named Nanda, Nanda-vati, and Sundari-nanda. The Bodhisatta dying, they were taken in by neighbors and friends, whilst he was born again into the world as a golden mallard endowed with consciousness of its former existences.

Growing up, the bird viewed its own magnificent size and golden plumage, and remembered that previously it had been a human being. Discovering that his wife and daughters were living on the charity of others, the mallard bethought him of his plumage like hammered and beaten gold and how by giving them a golden feather at a time he could enable his wife and daughters to live in comfort. So away he flew to where they dwelt and alighted on the top of the central beam of the roof. Seeing the Bodhisatta, the wife and girls asked where he had come from; and he told them that he was their father who had died and been born a golden mallard, and that he had come to visit them and put an end to their miserable necessity of working for hire.

"You shall have my feathers," said he, "one by one, and they will sell for enough to keep you all in ease and comfort."

So saying, he gave them one of his feathers and departed. And from time to time he returned to give them another feather, and with the proceeds of their sale these Brahmin women grew prosperous and quite well to do.

But one day the mother said to her daughters, "There's no trusting animals, my children. Who's to say your father might not go away one of these days and never come back again? Let us use our time and pluck him clean next time he comes, so as to make sure of all his feathers."

Thinking this would pain him, the daughters refused.

The mother in her greed called the golden mallard to her one day when he came, and then took him with both hands and plucked him.

Now the Bodhisatta's feathers had this property that if they were plucked out against his wish, they ceased to be golden and became like a crane's feathers. And now the poor bird, though he stretched his wings, could not fly, and the woman flung him into a barrel and gave him food there. As time went on his feathers grew again (though they were plain white ones now), and he flew away to his own abode and never came back again.

Stellar Stella Awards ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-08-02T21:57:00.000-05:00

We've all heard or gotten an email about the guy who injured himself while using his lawn mower as a hedge clipper, and then won $500,000 in a lawsuit against the lawn mower company?

Or, how about the woman who threw a soft drink at her boyfriend, slipped on the wet floor, and then won $100,000 in a lawsuit against the restaurant?

My all time favorite about the fellow that bought an RV and as he was driving it home put the cruise control on and went to the back to make himself a cup of coffee.

These are only two of the common examples of lawsuit abuses that are fueling the call for "litigation reform." They are also completely untrue — part of a growing collection of legal mythologies that are appearing widely in the national media. I'm not sure why people would make-up stories when the real ones are much better.

You know my fondness for awards - and the Stella Awards is among my favorites. (The Stella Awards were inspired by Stella Liebeck. In 1992, Stella, then 79, spilled a cup of McDonald's coffee onto her lap, burning herself -- the "rest of her story" here...with a LOT of information I didn't know - for instance she wasn't driving!!)

The 2007 True Stella Awards

Issued February 2008

(Click here to confirm these are legitimate.)

#3: Sentry Insurance Company. The company provided worker's compensation insurance for a Wisconsin "Meals on Wheels" program. Delivering a meal, a MoW volunteer (who was allegedly not even wearing boots) slipped and fell on a participant's driveway that had been cleared of snow, and Sentry had to pay to care for her resulting injuries. Sentry wanted its money back, so it sued the 81-year-old homeowner getting the Meals on Wheels service. It could have simply filed for "subrogation" from her homeowner's insurance company, but by naming her in the action, it dragged an old lady into court, reinforcing the image of insurance companies as concerned only about the bottom line, not "protecting" policyholders from loss.

#2: The family of Robert Hornbeck. Hornbeck volunteered for the Army and served a stint in Iraq. After getting home, he got drunk, wandered into a hotel's service area (passing "DANGER" warning signs), crawled into an air conditioning unit, and was severely cut when the machinery activated. Unable to care for himself due to his drunkenness, he bled to death. A tragedy, to be sure, but one solely caused by a supposedly responsible adult with military training. Despite his irresponsible behavior -- and his perhaps criminal trespassing -- Hornbeck's family sued the hotel for $10 million, as if it's reasonably foreseeable that some drunk fool would ignore warning signs and climb into its heavy duty machinery to sleep off his bender.

But those pale compared to...

The winner of the 2007 True Stella Award: Roy L. Pearson Jr. The 57-year-old Administrative Law Judge from Washington DC claims that a dry cleaner lost a pair of his pants, so he sued the mom-and-pop business for $65,462,500. That's right: more than $65 million for one pair of pants. Representing himself, Judge Pearson cried in court over the loss of his pants, whining that there certainly isn't a more compelling case in the District archives. But the Superior Court judge wasn't moved: he called the case "vexatious litigation", scolded Judge Pearson for his "bad faith", and awarded damages to the dry cleaners. But Pearson didn't take no for an answer: he's appealing the decision. And he has plenty of time on his hands, since he was dismissed from his job. Last we heard, Pearson's appeal is still pending.

--elderly woman from www.superstock.com

--more tomorrow

A 60+ Stoner ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2008-08-01T23:02:00.001-05:00

This chapter picks up from --here--

Once taken into the surgical holy-of-holies, I was shown to a draped area with a bed and various machinery not for the faint of heart. I was handed two (not one) two surgical gowns to put on. As surgical gowns had been designed by Dr. Seymour Butts, this was a welcome change indeed. Now, the posterior areas would not be flapping in the breeze of hospital air conditioning...or so I thought. Alas, when the surgical nurse (have to use the right title here) came back. I was to put one on and the other would be put on after surgery. But, I need not have worried - once I got into the bed, I didn't get to leave it.

And now the torture began. After the first surgical nurse left (having divested me of one of the gowns), a second one arrived - carrying a $4 cup of coffee. Sheer torture. Fortunately, he was but a moment and left with coffee intact very shortly. At that point, the anesthesiologist arrived without coffee and talked in detail about what they were going to do and how I would be "under" for the operation.

Those who know the story of a year ago, know that my last major surgery was not exactly a walk in the park going into it. I had shared that with my Dr., but had no idea he had shared it beyond that.

I was very glad to talk to the anesthesiologist and find out that I was NOT going to be given the paralyzing shot so common in operations, but would be a combination of gas and drugs. There was a lot more torture as various surgeons, interns and I swear there was a cleaning person all arrived in front of me - with cups of coffee. One person actually used the table by the end of MY bed to add his sugar ... I was in agony.

I should have paid more attention to the next explanation but I didn't. They were going to give me a nerve block in my upper legs which would relieve most of the pain over the next couple of days. This is important for later.

After that discussion the Dr. came to see me and made the usual poking of the leg, discussion with the nurse that was with him - and merely gave me "THE LOOK" for daring to joke about marking the leg to be operated on with an X. (Some surgeons are known for NOT having a sense of humor - mine included!)

At that point, the anesthesiologist was back with several additions to the IV that had been started in my arm. I felt wonderful!!!! Nothing hurt, I had a good grasp on reality and everything seems fuzzy and sharp at the same time. The bed I was on was the one I would be taken to surgery in - and off down the hall we went. By this point, the meds were beginning to take hold, and I was enthralled by the passing lights, and the people passing by. My mouth seemed a little fuzzy but I think I could still be understood, but frankly I have no idea what I said. Finally, it was through the doors and into the operating. I was feeling so good - getting onto the operating table was no problem. That's because they didn't move me until I was out. The anesthesiologist was talking about the mask in my ear, and it was placed over my nose/mouth and I did as I was told - to breathe deeply.

That was the last I remembered until I woke up in my hospital room. To say it took a few minutes to get focused would be a distinct understatement. Managed to see my daughter sitting in the room, and supposedly asked her if I'd had a good time at the party. I then remember various people suddenly (she says not suddenly, but over a period of time) converging around the bed to "fill me in" on all I needed to know. First off was an explanation of the machine in bed with me making my leg move up to my chest and then back down. A major annoyance during my stay, even if I was grateful that I would keep me from locking up the new knee. Then there was the physical therapist to point out what they would do later (Spanish Inquisition torture for 400 Alex.).

He finally left and the nurse came over to explain the pain pump next to my bed. In my foggy state I did manage to listen as she explained that every time the light came on I could press the button for pain medication. Please make not that she actually said could press it. As she was leaving, the light was on - (cue the Psycho violins here) - so I pressed it. And that's what I did all afternoon to early evening.

I need to do a short explanation here (do I do anything short?). I am not a stoner but not by nature. With my compulsive/impulsive nature people are sometimes surprised. I simply can't. Pot makes me incredibly physically miserable and very sick - which made me a real pain-in-the-butt in the Theater department in college. And none of the rest either because they don't work in my system as -according to everyone else - they should.

So now, I have drugs blocking the pain in my knee, whatever was in the IV dripping away and I'm pressing the pain pump every time the light comes on...which seemed to be about every five minutes. At this point - even my daughter agrees- I had gone from operation drug lingering head long to a 60+ year older stoner (in case you hadn't gotten that!!) I had several cell phone calls I don't remember having, ate two meals which I don't remember and several servings of ice cream - which was available anytime on the floor.

I was blissfully unaware - even though my daughter was telling me at the time I was beyond loopy and heading toward loony!! That blissfully unaware came to an end when I looked at the wallpaper above the sink in my room. I've included a picture of something similar - but mine was more gold, more washed and with some dark in it. (creepy music for 200 Alex) I was looking at the TV on the wall when I realized that the wall paper pattern was moving . . . around the wall. I did what any logical person would do in that situation and closed my eyes several times to see if it would go away.
It didn't.

I realized right away that I was for the very first time in my life completely and absolutely stoned. I will say that it was frankly NOT a good sensation. (OK, DEA did that cover my probation?) I also knew exactly where the problem was and what needed to be done about it. At that point the nurse came in and we both basically started the same conversation . . . which in a nut shell was "the machine has to go." She was trying to be diplomatic about it - I was being blunt. She wanted to re-set the timer (!!??) I wanted the thing gone. And shortly gone it was. Eventually the "trip" came to an end, the wallpaper stopped moving and the fuzz began to clear.

It especially cleared enough for me to concentrate on my nemesis since the beginning of time - the walker. Curse it as much as I did - it wouldn't take the hint and leave. It just laid there against the wall and mocked me!!!

---more tomorrow

A 60+ S_ ONE R ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-07-31T23:30:00.001-05:00

Picking up from --here--

Everyone knows what a hospital waiting room looks like, sounds like and very often smells like. They are often places of frenetic activity, unintelligible or delivered in code intercom calls . . . and frankly smell like hospital.

I was not prepared for this entrance/waiting room. There was the tranquil sounds of fountains and a full sized grand piano was being played by ghostly hands. OK, that was a slight exaggeration - it was a player grand piano. Turning to the right, there was a marble topped circular desk with someone in coat and tie standing behind it. I was tempted to go outside and see if I had been delivered to a funeral home by mistake. Everything seemed so peaceful and didn't smell. It turns out that the gentleman behind the desk if the first person everyone talks to before entering the rest of the hospital.

He takes your information (actually listening I might add!) and then calls whoever you are supposed to see and they will come an get you. If necessary, he will take you to where you need to go. No wandering aimlessly around the hallways trying to remember if you were told turn left, then right - go up five steps and "shake it all about."

There were several reasons they went with the set-up the way they have it. First of all it help control traffic and also it help convince people that they are known and expected. Of course, visitors check-in and go up to the rooms.

Anyway, hospital registration came out to get me as I waited in nice comfy chairs - by a window wall and listened to the water wall and piano. I was taken to a glass enclosed area to begin the sign all the papers required and make sure all the payments had been recorded. Within a very short delightful time, I had my wrist band and the nurse came and got me for the necessary testing that had to be done.

Before going into the testing area, she took me on a tour of the floor where I would be staying - showed me a room (I was beginning to wonder if I would be expected to buy a time-share plan before I would get out). And we grabbed a fresh cup of coffee from the floor waiting area. Already I was falling in love - they had good coffee!! Once ensconced in the testing area, two nurses went to work on me. The only complaint I had was that one cup of coffee was not going to be able to replace the gallon (so it seemed to me) of blood they drew. OK, the 2nd complaint had to do with those little gluey pads they use for EKG's. But that has more to do with glue and chest hair. . . and there's not much anyone can do about that. And then, we were done. Because I had come in before the day of surgery, I was given a reprieve on arrival time on Friday. I didn't need to be there until 5:30am!! Not much of an improvement, but at that time of day (Is it really a time of day?) I'll take what I can get!!

So now I was free until Friday morning - about 33 hours away. Just enough time to go home, and brace myself for nothing to eat or drink after 10pm on Thursday. Of course, that gave me sometime to surf the net and discover all sorts of things I didn't want to know about the operation. . . and anesthetic. I know I should have stopped reading, but it was as if I was watching a car wreck. I just kept looking.

"Achmed was supposed to pick me up Friday in time to make the 5:30am deadline. At about 5:00am I get a phone call they he can't pick me up, but one of his friends is going to be there and the "friend" knew where the hospital was. "Friend" did NOT know where the hospital was - and "Achmed" was giving him directions the entire way - very loudly - over the cell phone. And we did make the appointed time. Again, check in at desk, registration comes and gets me and I get a wrist band - which includes a picture, by the way. No mistaking who I am that's for sure!! Registration takes me to the surgery floor, and there is the ONLY place I've had to wait for any length of time...along with the others scheduled for early morning surgery.

We did get to laughing as the waiting became a test of endurance. Right across from where we were waiting was an area for families to wait while surgery was being done. The area was filled with coffee, colas and rolls and such. It was very hard to behave - let me tell you. Especially seeing the coffee .... especially the coffee.

Eventually, we were released from the torment and taken back to begin the final part of this story ... and of course the last letter in the hangman puzzle in the heading.

--more tomorrow.

I Really Goofed ~ Very Early Evening Thoughts

2008-07-31T22:00:00.001-05:00

I removed the Elegant Time Waster post as I had no idea it was creating problems with some systems - and the game was not as quiet as it is on my computer.

I'm thinking of forming a PAC to deal with errant games that don't perform as they should.

A 60+ S_ O _E R ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2008-07-29T23:59:00.004-05:00

Continuing from --last night-- ~

By now the horrors (as I called them) had begun to run out of steam. I had assured all of them that I wasn't going to end up a bed-ridden cripple, that I was not going to have to sell my first born to pay the bills (although when he was growing up ~ ah, let's not go there!) and that whatever path the recovery took I would be just fine ...

I then had D & D to deal with. They had decided that there was no way I was going to be able to go through the operation and recover by myself ~ and that they were going to be there every step of the way. Which normally, I wouldn't have minded ~ but the thought of them fluttering around the hospital bed and then fluttering in and out of my apartment while I was recovering was just a bit more than I wanted to even think about let alone deal with. (hysteria by proxy for 600, Alex)

Don't get me wrong, they have been and are good friends ~ in very defined doses. Fortunately my daughter was taking over that portion of the watch, and she definitely didn't need any help. So, not only would she be around after the operation, but would carefully monitor my being at home.

By this time ~ a week before the operation ~ the hospital, doctor/surgeon's office, anesthesiologist and medical equipment rental decided they would need to be paid. I was informed these people would be calling me and to be prepared for sticker shock.

And I was . . . there was a middle-man in what I was beginning to call "Behind The Operating Room Door" and if you're too young (or too innocent) to get that reference ~ send me an E-mail and I'll send you a link. The reason he was in the middle was his delightful personality, his willingness to help, his lawyer skills and a company American Express that could take the charges and I would then pay back from the inheritance.

None of us knew what anyone was going to charge ~ but as a cash up-front patient, I was sure there would be some kind of discount...which I was prepared to ask for.

Believe it or not, the first call was the hospital and I almost wished I had delayed all this several weeks. After my experience of calling all the "medical center" hospitals ~ I was prepared for 1)rudeness and 2) an astronomical price tag. I received neither. The business office was incredibly helpful and let's just say that I was going to be able to get BOTH knees done for the price of ONE at the other hospitals. (blue light special for 300, Alex)

So, when all the calls were done and everyone had the money they needed ~ I began to stump (I certainly wasn't able to dance!) around the apartment singing "Signed - Sealed - Delivered!" When you have to sit down every few moments to let the knees recover, it somewhat takes the fun out of the celebration!!

The Doctor had given me his instructions on a much copied copy of a copy. But the hospital was quite insistent that I either come down on Wednesday and pre-register and get the necessary paperwork and test done, or I would have to do the morning before surgery. Dear me, what a difficult choice!! (Remember, I'm the one that wasn't sure 5am was an actual time of day!) So, Wednesday afternoon it was off to find the hospital and get the tests done.

Since I'm still not driving (that IS going to change no matter what my son-in-law says!!) I either take the bus or a taxi. In this case, taxi seemed preferable. . . that way two of us could get lost. At this time I had a driver that I used all the time. He was quite good, knew the city and we had a number of pleasant conversations. He was Muslim and spent most of the trips discussing religion with me ... I had always maintained that iron sharpens iron ... and as the conversations were never arguments I had begun to look forward to them. Of course, I referred to him to my daughter and my friends as "Achmed, the dead terrorist.***" Knowing that if I every accidentally called him that or explained it . . . I would be in deep trouble. (non-famous deaths for 600, Alex)

Off we went - I had the address and the approximate location of the hospital, he was convinced, as always, that I had no idea where it was and he did. The discussion was lively and interesting ~ but alas, he is too serious to have much of a sense of humor. But that certainly never stopped his trying to convert me and/or all in my family.

We did find the hospital (I was right ~ he wasn't but never admitted it) and I walked into one of the biggest surprises I've had in a long, long time.

---more tomorrow and another clue in the hangman puzzle of the title

*** for those of you you didn't understand the Achmed reference ~ here is ventriloquist Jeff Dunham and Achmed. My grand kids think he is hysterical, however we did have to explain to the youngest that going through one of the box stores saying loudly: "silence ~ I kill you!" was not really a good idea!!!

A 60+ S_ O _ _ R ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

2008-07-28T16:51:00.002-05:00

Leaving all the "Sturm und Drang" that I last posted at length about -here- I want to move forward to the merry month of May. A wonderful time of may-flowers (except for those that were being flooded or frozen) and supposedly a welcoming of spring. In my case, it was the welcoming of yet another surgery. Over the years, those who know me have realized that walking had become much more difficult and sometimes quite painful. (bad joints for 100, Alex)

In the month of April, I realized that something was going to have to be done ~ and quite soon. I was walking as if I had been riding horses for 100 years (bow-legged really doesn't even begin to describe it. I was beginning to look like the curved sides of a ship!) And I was beginning to be unable to walk for all but a short distance without having to sit down and let the knees recover. All of which contributed to making me fell exceptionally old and somewhat feeble. This time I began to plan and research 1) where I wanted to have it done and 2) who I wanted to have do it. (shocked friends and relatives for 500, Alex)

Several years ago I had researched the cost of getting my knees done as a cash up-front patient. The results were absolutely ~~stunning~~ overwhelming...out of all the major hospitals in Houston ~ for cash payments I would have been able to literally buy a house for a little more than what the two knees were going to cost me! To one business office (after THREE days of trying to get in contact with them.) after she quoted me the price I simply told her ~ "Look honey, I am not buying the operating room or donating a new one! I just want to rent the one you have!" At that point I simply decided the operations were not going to happen until I was on Medicare or had won the lottery. As both seemed to be long-term before they happened. I gave up.

Now, there was no giving up. Things had to get done and I was the one that was going to have to make it happen. I had decided WHERE I wanted to have it done. It's a small (79 surgical beds) hospital located just on the edge of the medical district called University General Hospital. I found out that the hospital is operated partly by the University of Houston, Baylor College of Medicine and the doctors who are affiliated with the hospital. So far so good . . . So, I simply called and asked for a list of Orthopedic Surgeons. There were five that were immediately recommended. Armed with Google and my own determination I went on a surgeon hunt. The first name on the list had not only his own website, but was on several others. He had a list of accomplishments a mile long and even had a video on his website that showed through animation what would be done during the operation. -->here<-- (it's not a graphic movie folks!!)

I made an appointment to meet with him - and without a moments hesitation on my part (after we looked at the x-rays) I was scheduled for surgery on May 9th ~ having to be there at 5am . . . A time I hadn't seen for several years, and wasn't sure still existed!!!

Of course, once you have something like a total knee replacement surgery scheduled ~ the horrors begin the come out of the woodwork . . . each with a different view of how terrible the operation is going to be and how horrible I'm going to feel once the operation is done and I'm on my own. These were usually prefaced by "Of course, yours might be different BUT my (cousin, uncle, sister's friend's aunt three times removed or I read about) . . . whatever had or ended up doing .... whatever. I'm sorry now that I didn't write them all down. They would have made a wonderful plot line for a soap opera or a lifetime of Lifetime disease of the week movies!

--more tomorrow on the adventure and more clues on the hangman puzzle in the heading!!

And The Beat Goes On ~ Early Afternoon Thoughts

2008-07-25T14:12:00.003-05:00

Normally I use early afternoon thoughts for elegant time wasters, I found there actually were legitimate times wasters in the real world over the last several weeks. In the recent spate of headlines there were several news stories about a councilwoman who objected to another councilman saying that the "paperwork would disappear into a black hole. . . " I always thought that astronomical term was perfectly respectable, and could be used to describe the mythological place where things (even the socks from the dryer) could be described as disappearing.

Evidently the PC Police feel otherwise. Now, had the man said "black Ho" I might have understood - but black hole? What is this woman going to demand - that Astronomy change its term? That the Black Hole of Calcutta of history be renamed? Hold up on the cards the letters, I DO know that the Calcutta story has been debunked . . .

By this point I was ready to get on a roll of time wasters, and was perusing the blogs I follow on a regular basis when I was literally knocked off my soap box (which was pretty large by-the-way) by the following from the blog Joe.My.God . . .

For some time I had followed a blog called Coopers Corrider where a gay man adopted two children and aside from being an incredible writer allowed us inside his life and feelings.

Joe titled his post:

Apology Revoked
(And Munchausen-By-Blog Syndrome)

And then the OMG portion of my day began -

"Oh, gentle readers, what a twisted, fascinating, maddening, saddening place is this thing called The Internets.

Remember Cooper? The firefighter gay dad of two adopted boys who pulled his widely-loved blog after an "attack" of malicious comments and emails from the readers of this blog? Causing me to get extremely bent of out shape and offer Cooper a heartfelt (really) public apology? Over the last few days our little blogosphere has retched forth some unpleasant, uncomfortable revelations about Cooper.

The short version:
He is not a firefighter.
He is not an adoptive father.
He is not gay.
He is not, in fact, a he. "

(OK ~ now I'm really intrigued.)

"Intrigued? The long version:

The story began to unfold at Sweet/Salty, the blog of a woman named Kate, a young mother dealing with the death of her infant son. On the day of the supposed attack on Cooper's blog by JMG readers, Kate had emailed him, extremely distressed to have discovered that Cooper had lifted many of her gorgeously written posts verbatim, including photographs of her husband.

Upon receipt of Kate's surprisingly kind request to remove her plagiarized material, Cooper deleted his blog and apparently then concocted the JMG attack story to placate his legion of starry-eyed readers, people who avidly followed Cooper's Corridor as a place where they saw their most earnest ideals about gay parenting realized.

Shortly afterwards, Cooper's Corridor resumed as Nico's Niche, a private blog where Kate's material continued to appear. Kate found my public apology to Cooper and emailed me about the situation. Knowing that Father Tony has had a longtime internet friendship with Cooper, I put him on the case. What he uncovered may blow your mind.

According to the bizarre confession wrangled by Father Tony, Cooper's Corridor/Nico's Niche was written by a woman, a 52-year-old British Columbia grandmother named Jo, who says that ever since she was a little girl she has felt that she is a gay man trapped in a woman's body. Cooper/Nico (Jo claims) was a concoction created in order to deal with her lifelong gender identity disorder. She says she calls her inner gay man "Nicky".

Oh, but hang on a minute, it gets curiouser still. Turns out that there are extremely similar aspects between the Cooper/Nico story and another infamous case of blog imposterism. Years ago there was the (now-infamous in the gay blogosphere) case of A Priori Ad Lib, a blog supposedly written by a gay Canadian grade school teacher slowly dying from leukemia. The dying gay teacher's name? Nicky. Who lived in British Columbia. Who turned out to be a woman, exposed when a blog pal of mine attempted to actually visit "him" in the hospital only to find no such person existed.

As the initial outrage and sense of betrayal about Cooper died down a bit, there have been some rather generous expressions of pity towards Jo/Cooper/Nicky. Kate (the blogger whose occasionally tortured, but always lovely prose was stolen) has been by turns baffled, angry, stunned...but most of all, kind. (Her readers, understandably, not so much.) Even as evidence was put forward that Jo had plagiarized other blogs, the conversation turned to pleas for understanding for the mentally ill.

Go read Kate's initial angry post, then you absolutely must delve into Father Tony's post, where in addition to publishing Jo's emailed "confession", he muses in his typically artful way about the anonymous nature of the internet and how much we can ever really know about people, even when we think we have an insider's view of their day-to-day lives.

To my readers who leapt to defend "Cooper", I thank you for your kind words to him, however misguided we all were. I know some of you had even sent Christmas presents for "Cooper's" nonexistent children, so I can only imagine how incredibly betrayed you feel. Jo has told Father Tony that she's been suicidal over being exposed, but has found a mental health counselor and is considering gender reassignment surgery. Color me extremely skeptical on that, but at the end of day what we have here is a very troubled person who needs help of some kind.

Even this post may please the sort of person who engages in what I call "Munchausen-by-blog syndrome", but consider this yet another unhappy lesson about trust, gullibility, and how we as gay people are sometimes overeager to find our heroes."

Aside from leaving me speechless ~ A difficult feat in itself ~ I was struck by the last paragraph (as in the solar plexus). I have to take a little issue with Joe on the last line, I don't think it's only gays that are overeager to find heroes ~ I think many people have fallen into the "Hero de Jour" trap.

F.Y.I. ~ The Return ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-07-12T21:02:00.000-05:00

I'm sorry that I have been "missing in action" for these last months. I would like to say upfront, everything is fine, I'm fine and what is now going on around me is fine as well!!
It was just important that I take some time off and solidify what's been happening with me, and to get to the point that I actually wanted to write something that wasn't in my journal.

So, even tho' I have NOT been:

And I certainly have not been under a storm of any kind:

I am glad to say that in the next few days I shall be back, and be back to stay!!!

An Elegant Time Waster ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2008-03-24T22:57:00.000-05:00

With this month marking seven months of sobriety, I was invited to attend a rehearsal for a production number of a club show - and possibly offer help. This involved going to a country-western club here in Houston. After some thought, I decided that as I had a purpose in being there ~ I would be alright. And I was ... uh ... except for one tiny problem. In order to smoke in Houston, there has to be a porch. This club had one, so out I went to have a cigarette. (Nasty habit, I know!) They even had two tents with seating under them. I am heading to the seats under one of the tents, which should have been no problem ~ right?

Alas and alack... I didn't see the cinder blocks that were holding up the supports. I, stone cold sober, sprawled flat on my face, after hitting my knees. Fortunately, the only thing hurt was my pride ... and sipping on my cold sprite made me feel even better. Note to self: watch for obstacles on floors!

Tonight I am posting a wonderful - elegant time waster for the mathematicians in all of us. Well, the mathematicians in you -- I have NO math skill.

The object is to convert the numbers of PI to musical notes ...

This is the 2nd screen you will see ....

A truly lovely time waster ....

---> CLICK HERE <---

Oh and some of the other time wasters listed there are quite fun as well!!!

And The Non-Winner Is .... Early Evening Thoughts.

2008-03-23T21:25:00.001-05:00

My apologies for not posting over the last few days. I really couldn't bring myself to post something humorous or trying to let you know part of the story when I myself didn't know how it was going to turn out. I wrote in the last point about my friend playing crash and burn with his body and mind. I think crash and burn won....

After he recovered from last Sunday ~ we had several l-o-n-g talks about what was happening and what he was not only doing to himself, but to those around him. I was trying to be careful not to be judgmental and/ or evangelical. It was becoming an extremely difficult task.

I finally got through with the sentence: "I can care unconditionally - but I don't have to accept the behaviors unconditionally." So, he agreed that getting to the counseling center and getting into therapy was the only way to go.

Yesterday, I got a phone call from him wanting to meet for lunch and talk. He was worried about what was going to happen and if he really had the strength to resist his addictions. We talked for a few moments and I hung up to get ready to go down the road and meet him for lunch. He arrived and seemed in good shape - looks and demeanor can be deceiving. I realized that when he took out a bottle of vodka during lunch and helped himself. Once again I'm thinking - "holy Crap now what!" (raging drunks for 1000 Alex.)

At this point I'm also thinking "This is a restaurant I will be unable to go back to...." But my deepest concern is for my friend. He's at this time beginning to spin out of control. I finally get him convinced to leave the restaurant ~ he wanted to buy a backpack and I thought the walk to the store might help. (foolish thoughts for 500 Alex.) And once again I was left shaking my head in disbelief.

I knew I could get him a ride ~ a friend of both of us was still willing to work with him. Several calls later he agreed to pick us both up - but particularly "Mouthwash".

He "earned" the nickname from the Crisis Residential Unit we were both in after my stay in the hospital. He actually managed to get alcohol and smuggle it into the unit. He wasn't selfish evidently ~ more than willing to share with others. Of course, the fact that everyone was on medication that might have a very negative (as in deadly) reaction to it never figured into his conscious. The alcohol? One that needs to be banned from drug store shelves. I'm not going to reveal the name - but the next time you are in a drug store look for a mouthwash that is more than 50 proof. The night at the unit was very interesting. He was turned in to the director and actually never denied the alcohol, merely blamed whoever turned him in as being at fault.

As the counseling center I was hoping to get him into was closed Friday/Saturday and Sunday. He had promised to call on Monday to get the intake appointment, and I agreed that I would go with him. All I could do was hope that he would be able to hold on until then. We finished getting the backpack and a really great pair of sunglasses for me and went outside to wait for our friend to come and take him away.Mouthwash decides that sitting on the sidewalk is the best option. So, now I'm sitting on the sidewalk (getting down there with my knees was a fun undertaking) ~ and he's sitting there taking alternate hits from a vodka bottle and soda bottle. All I could think was what a great picture we were - and how much we both looked like older homeless men sharing a moment. As we were not sharing the bottle that's all we would be sharing. He rambled on and on and I kept praying that no one I knew would show up.

That's when the rest of the story came out. Not only had he been imbibing alcohol this week - but he had been mixing codeine cough syrup and pills (Xantax specifically) ~ a sure-fire meltdown combination. Now I'm worrying about getting arrested simply becvause I'm sitting next to him . . . and I have begun to create a catastrophe out of the situation. I'm not going to share those with you at this point ~ but later they became quite funny.

Finally we had poured him into the car and he was being taken back to the center where he lives to sleep it off ...

The sleeping it off hope ended ~ evidently ~ when he passed out in his doorstep and awoke moments later cursing and threatening everyone in sight. . . including the friend that drove him home and was trying to get him into his room. Details are a little sketchy, but from what I found out ~ he checked himself out of the center and headed off to one of the most dangerous areas of town to add crack to the ingredients in his system. Today we learned that he was beaten up and arrested...no one knows for sure, but it sounds pretty likely to me.

Today when I contemplated what had gone on - I realized that my view of things/people/places and events has really changed. I know that there is nothing I can do to help this person directly and that worrying about it is neither productive nor helpful.

What does concern me is what this says about people I am around. There will be more on that soon.

Erin Go . . . ~ Late Evening Thoughts

2008-03-18T23:39:00.001-05:00

To say that last week was interesting would be an understatement. It was a wild, intense and one where a lot was accomplished. Not easily ~ not always with charm ~ not always without some stress. But then the weekend had arrived and I was "good to go." Little did I know it should have gotten up and gone!

I was especially looking forward to Sunday when someone that I have gotten to know quite well and I were going to have a quick sandwich and coffee at a small streetside cafe and then spend the afternoon exploring Half Price Books. We had arranged to meet at the cafe around 1:30 in the afternoon. This would still give plenty of time for enjoying the book store. Around 10:00 in the morning I began to get text messages and then phone calls changing the time and location of where we were to meet. Finally I told that the place we would meet would be La Strada. (cue mournful music here.) This establishment was an attempt at an upscale Italian restaurant. Fortunately, they managed the upscale and the upscale price part. Unfortunately, (as far as I was concerned) they didn't manage the food part.

I decided that I would have some dessert and let that be that.
I headed out on the adventure of the day. (cue Psycho violins here.)

When I arrived at the place, I realized even before I got to the door, there had been a change. The place was very noisy...very noisy. I though maybe it was because the windows on the street were open but then as I approached the door I had the reality hit me ~ this was not the case at all.

The upscale restaurant had become (on Sundays) a 21 (barely) and up (barely) party central location. It's a little hard to remain upscale when all the drinks are being served in plastic glasses - coffee in foam cups!! And the place was packed. I realized that probably 80% of the ~~boys~~ "guy's" voices hadn't changed (21??) and NONE of the women's voiced had progressed beyond grade school. It was as if I were at a Hanna Montana concert that was never going to start.

My friend? He was at the bar trying very hard to get under it - I think. To say that he had been drinking his lunch would have been been an understatement. He had used all the breakfast, dinners AND lunches for three weeks or more. I am now surrounded by people in high-pitched shriek(s) and a very intoxicated friend who is pawing me and giving me bone crushing bear hugs inbetween telling me what I was going to do and asking me for money. Great conversation points there!!

And, of course, Monday was St. Patrick's Day . . . I found something very interesting and decided to end tonight's post with these VERY clever cell phone charms from Japan. They are called the 6 stages of drunkenness ~

the first stage is the lecture stage: "Let me tell you something ... over and over and over...

The rest and the conclusion tomorrow ...

It's about time ~ Early Evening Thoughts

2008-03-17T19:01:00.000-05:00

It's about time that I climbed out of my writer's slumber, my ~ whatever it's called and get back to writing here.

For those whom I know from the blog, I apologize for the delay. Just know, that life actually has gotten quite nice and ~ being me ~ not without it's humorous adventure side.

Starting tomorrow I'm back in the saddle and ready to continue ~~blabbing~~ sharing what's been happening and what is going on...

First up, I'm going to finish the story of what brought me to this point and I've also got a new collection of Elegant Timewasters ...

warm valley —
countless geese
seeking refuge

moonrise —
the dark night of a soul
lifts

Biting off
more than I can chew —
a broken wisdom tooth.

chanting canyon streams

Opening bell
echoes from the canyon walls --
raindrops on the river.

The sounds of rocks bouncing off rocks;
the shadows of trees traced on trees.

I sit, still.
The canyon river chants,
moving mountains.

The sermon spun on the still point:
dropping off eternity, picking up time;
letting go of self, awakened to Mind.

---Above the Fog ~ Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
Selections from Cuttings

---more tomorrow