Monday, December 31, 2007

The kitties new toy

I don't know why it is sideways. The video on my computer isn't. If someone out there knows how to fix it, please let me know. Otherwise, just tip your head to the right and laugh.

Friday, December 28, 2007

Here comes the Jackpot Question in Advance - What are you doing New Year's...New Year's Eve?

Who Me? I will have a tiny house full of too many people drinking way too much and having a great time. My house. With probably still a fallen tree out front because we haven't had time to do anything about it.

After much drinking and laughter, we will toast in the new year and possibly sing terribly off key and laugh again. Generally, it's something like:
For Auld Lang Syne, my dear
For Auuuld Laaaang Syyyyyne
For all the words have been forgot
And never brought to mind

So I thought, maybe I should find out the words. The internet is a wonderful thing. I found them here. And reprinted for your convenience. I can't very well ask you to put in so much work as to follow the link while thinking about champagne now can I?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp!
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes
And pou'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.

We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a right good willie-waught,,
For auld lang syne.

Apparently, 'auld lang syne' means 'times gone by.' Pretty sure they mean alchie-holic beverage by 'cup of kindness,' the song is Scottish after all. Aye. And in case you was a wonderin' - here's the original that Burns based his ditty upon.

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
Tho they return with scars?
These are a noble hero's lot,
Obtain'd in glorious wars;
Welcome, my Varo, to my breast,
Thy arms about me twine,
And make me once again as blest,
As I was auld lang syne.

O'er moor and dale with your gay friend
You may pursue the chase,
And after a blythe bottle end
All cares in my embrace.
And in a vacant rainy day
You shall be wholly mine:
We'll make the hours run smooth away
And laugh at auld lang syne.
Shall Monarchy be quite forgot,
And of it no more heard?
Antiquity be razed about
And slav'ry put in stead?
Is Scotsman's blood now grown so cold,
The valor of their mind,
That they can never once reflect
On old lang syne?

Quite an informative link it was. And for those thirsting for even more, here's some sheet music.


Now you are fully informed thanks to the randomness in my head. No more excuses for the drunken butchering of a classic Scottish drinking song!

So tell me, really, what are you doing New Year's Eve?

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Give it a thought

As we wind down from our season of giving, I hope that you will all continue to remember those who may not have been blessed as you have been. As you put away your presents and decide what will be returned, remember that some people don't have the luxury of a home to put their things.

Once such neglected group has recently been on my heart. This season, there have been no soup kitchens, no toy drives, and no blankets made for these forgotten souls. Homes have been built, only to be discarded and demolished. This group has been thoughtlessly swallowed up this Christmas season. Families are broken apart each year and then forgotten as the tinsel comes down.

I am speaking, of course, of the plight of the gingerbread men and women all over the world. (Had you going there for a minute didn't I?) Lavish homes are erected every year and adorned with gum drops. Their walkways are lined with sugary icing. These newly born men and women can't help feel hopeful for the life to come. But it is just a Christmas illusion. Every year, thousands of gingerbread men, and even a few gingerbread women and children, are eaten in Christmas celebration. Even their newly built homes are often devoured, or worse, just discarded like so much shiny paper.

I know, they aren't citizens of our great country. I know, everything they've ever had has just been given to them by the hard working Capitalists. Surely we could spare just a few of our hard earned dollars for these undeserving souls. They've not earned it, but they certainly feel entitled. And isn't that enough?

Friday, December 21, 2007

All Things Round and Throwable

Throwable...hmm...I think I just made that word up. Eh. It's a post about sports, the grammatical rules should be loosened.

Here's the story. In short, the mayor of OKC wants to spend $100 million dollars to overhaul the relatively new Ford Center to hopefully entice the SuperSonics to town. I'm sure it's not 100 million of his own dollars. Nor will it be borrowed against projected profits from the theoretical team this should attract. No, it will come from tax payers. Not ticket price payers, not fans, not corporate sponsors, but most likely tax payers. For anyone who has read my little blog before, you know I'm less than thrilled about the idea.

I have a many problems with this idea of the esteemed mayor of Oklahoma City.
1. Tax dollars should be spent on public services, not entertainment. Sports are entertainment. If you choose to spend your money watching sweaty guys throw a ball through a hoop, be my guest. I'd rather spend my money at the symphony or the theater
2. Anything tax dollars fund should have free admission for tax payers. As in, public schools and parks
3. There is no guarantee this team is even coming! The city they are currently is is suing them for crying out loud. Ah yes, that turned out to be a great investment for the city. They've had to turn to lawyers in protect their perceived returns.

The people of Seattle saw the light and voted not to spend money on frivolous entertainment. Rather they chose to listen to a visionary group called Citizens for More Important Things. They voted, they signed petitions, they did any number of things to stop their tax dollars from funding something no one was interested in. They decided their money was better spent in the education system rather than lining the pockets of the role models found in the ranks of professional sports. They decided it was more important that their children learn math and science than throwing a ball and scoring with the opposite sex. I can only hope that the people of Oklahoma City will prove to be so wise.

As free thinking people, we should be able to decide what kind of entertainment out hard earned money goes to support. If you like basketball, great. You have my blessing in purchasing tickets to the next game. I happen to like anime and will be spending entertainment budget on DVDs instead. I work hard. I support my share of welfare baby factories. I should not be forced to part with my money in support of an entertainment venue from which I receive no entertainment. I don't care to pay for a single screw in a facility in which I will probably never step. I certainly will not be paying to enter said facility.

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

A Girl's Best Friend

As promised, I have pictures. I haven't finished my coffee, and so therefore they are not good pictures. We will see if I can do better once I am fully awake.

First, my original set. These are very special. We were VERY poor at the time. We have a family friend that makes jewelry out of his home. He does beautiful work. Michael talked to him and was able to design our wedding set. We took a cylinder of wax and carved the molds in my little apartment. Michael made my ring and I made his. There were slivers of wax forever ground into the couch. I don't know if you can tell from the picture, but my ring is two tone. It is yellow gold around the band and white gold on the infinity symbol. We chose that symbol because the traditional unbroken band of gold seems to have lost some significance in our society.

As pointed out on Casto Creations, handmade items are far superior for all the reasons she cited and then some. My ring is one of a kind, even if all of you copy it now that the picture is on the interwebs, my ring always will be the only one like it.

This is the re-engagement ring

Ooh! Aah! Yes, I thought you might be impressed. He did very well. He went to the previously mentioned jeweler. In fact, we just visited him last night to have it sized. It was really cool to stand there and watch while he cut out a piece of the platinum and then soldered it back together. The process is fascinating.

And here is the whole shebang all together. He cleaned and polished everything last night so it is all very shiny.

I don't know how long I will actually wear it all together. Maybe just for now, or maybe until we get our re-statement bands. We've been working on the design for the new bands for some time now. It is finally time for them to start becoming a reality.

So there you have it. You have the pictures and the story. Also, I can give you contact information for the jeweler, serious inquiries only.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Unable To Come Up With A Creative Title Today

I'm in a bad mood today. The very fact that I am in a bad mood is pissing me off because I have every reason to be in a good mood. But I have a headache. A bad one. Not a migraine, no, I thankfully haven't had one of those in a while. But at least there are stronger drugs for those. I suppose I could take Excedrin Migraine anyway and then I could be hopped up on caffeine and pissed off because my head hurts.

I should be in a good mood though. Hubby's Christmas present arrived in the mail on Saturday. I took it to rehearsal and showed it off to the choir. I got him this:
I wrapped it when I got home from choir rehearsal. Hope he doesn't figure it out! Yeah, kidding. When he got home, we decided to do our Christmas early. We had strong suspicions about what we were getting for each other and didn't want to put it off any longer. That, and it was looking more and more like Christmas Eve was just not going to work out as planned. Our suspicions were correct so I am glad we didn't wait. It's just no fun to keep secrets from each other. I was paranoid that I might be talking in my sleep.

He was very cute and romantic with his presentation. I opened a large box that contained a pair of candlesticks, some dark chocolate, and a bottle of red wine. The Watcher, in case anyone is interested. He asked if after nine years together, whether or not I would do it all over again if given the chance. I told him that of course I would. Then he presented me with my new very sparkley re-engagement ring. Don't worry, I'll post a picture later.

I got to show it off to the choir Sunday morning. The director's husband actually offered me a bribe to not show it to his wife. Needless to say, I am not ten dollars richer. The very difficult anthem was beautiful. Later, we made an appearance at the Christmas party for our Sunday school class. That was annoying because they scheduled it the same night as the Christmas Cantata. Since I was the soloist, I kind of needed to be at the Cantata.

The Cantata was beautiful. I was lavished with compliments. By the way, here's some free advice for you. When you go to compliment a soloist, don't ever say, "I didn't know you could sing." Even though I appreciate the sentiment, there is no good way to respond to that. Besides, I'm a Soprano, we come prepackaged with a Diva Complex. Sopranos feed off compliments. Our heads swell and we become nearly intolerable. We learn special techniques to not become dizzy with the world revolving around us. I can't tell you about them, that would be breaking the secret code.

Hmm, maybe that is the source of my headache. Upon returning to reality where I'm in accounting rather than gracing the stage with my presence, my head has been unceremoniously returned to it's natural size. I did get to show off my new ring. The Ooohs and Aaahs apparently couldn't maintain the appropriate cranial inflation. The headache set in after my show-and-tell was done. I'm sure the pressures will readjust eventually. But for now, my head hurts and so therefore, my mood sucks.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007


My blog is worth $1,693.62.
How much is your blog worth?

Thanks Instinct! That's really cool.


The Ice Storm cometh! I know you missed my ramblings yesterday, but I have a really good excuse. I live in the Midwest. You know, where the weather happens. School was called off, and hubby's office closed. I still needed to go in. So my sweet husband excavated the car from it's 3/4 inch ice cocoon, and the three of us piled in for the slow creep to my office.

We lumbered past the idiot carnage to each side of the road and down to my office. Well we really shouldn't have bothered. We had power when I arrived, but no network connection. We decided that it was stupid for us to sit around staring at each other, so we all went home. Thankfully hubby hadn't made it too far since dropping me off and was able to come right back. Whatever would we do without our cell phones?

Like good midwesterners, we went to the grocery store. You can't weather an ice storm without proper martini making supplies. Milk, eggs, and bread help too. We loaded up the loot and crept home dodging fallen tree limbs all the way. All the while thinking of the steak and eggs we were about to prepare once I had changed into some squishy slipper socks. Yes, I adore fun socks of all kinds.

We got home to this.

Yep, that would be the lovely Bradford Pear that graces my front lawn. Well, it was lovely on Monday morning. Now it looks like it had a bad hair cut.

We decided to go inside and unload groceries before throughly inspecting the tree only to discover that we had no electricity. It was on when we left that morning. But then again, our tree was whole when we left too. So we packed up the perishables and put them on the porch. It was 25 degrees, that's cold enough to keep the milk from spoiling. I took a big stick and beat what ice I could out of the remains of my tree to hopefully save what I could. Seems to have done some good since no more has fallen down.

We called the in-laws and carted our steak and eggs to their house. We had a nice lunch and couple bottles of wine. They had a couple of brownouts while we were there but nothing serious. By the time we got back home, we had power and sis-in-law did not. But they have a fireplace so they were able to stay warm.

Kiddo is still out of school today, but it's back to work for the rest of us. He gets to hang out with my dad today.

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Sincerest Apologies With Update

*Put on your waders regular readers, the sarcasm is dripping today.

I discovered recently that I am disappointing a percentage of potential readers. Imagine my embarrassment when I perused my analytics account! 5.15% of my traffic as of yesterday comes via the almighty search engines. Of those, 10% were searching for "jennifer's panties." Another 10% were searching for "little girl's panties." In fact, right now if you were to do a Google search on "in jennifer's panties," this blog entry is the 5th item in the list. (Today's entry will probably change that.)

I am so very sorry to all of you potential readers out there. I really hate to disappoint you like that. Imagine if I increased my readership by that 10% of the 5% finding me via search engines. I think that translates into one tenth of a reader! Just think for a minute what that could do for ad revenue. The potential is staggering.

*you can take your waders off now.

Well, I don't have a picture of jennifer in panties to share with you. So how about jennifer in a bikini?

Oh no, that's not my ass. That ass is a size 2. Mine is larger. That ass belongs to Jennifer Love Hewitt. A picture from this particular angle would be far less flattering on me, and I am by no means a big girl. Normally I would revel in the opportunity to make fun of a celebrity, but this time I agree with Miss Hewitt's comment.
"A size 2 is not fat! Nor will it ever be. And being a size 0 doesn't make you beautiful. … To all girls with butts, boobs, hips and a waist, put on a bikini – put it on and stay strong."
Amen girl! You rock that junk in your little trunk.

UPDATE: I was right, now I'm the first hit on the previously mentioned search. And thanks babe. I'm glad you like the view

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

9 Years Today!

Nine years ago today, I married Michael (of Michael's Soapbox). We are still blissfully in love, and each year is better than the last. We intend to remain newlyweds forever. I know, I didn't give you enough notice to purchase gifts. Don't worry, we accept PayPal :)

Funny how in this world, 9 years is quite an accomplishment. 50+ years is commonplace for my grandparent's generation. Our generation has invented things like "irreconcilable differences" and "pre-nuptial agreements." Many have changed their vows from "as long as we both shall live" to "as long as we both shall love." What a difference one little letter makes. Too often, couples go into their marriages with an escape plan.

Marriage is an institution, and I have been committed to that institution for life. It does take some work, but it gets easier with practice and it's worth it. Here are a few rules and pointers:

1. If you aren't sure that it's forever, you aren't ready to get married.
2. Marry your best friend. Your friendship will be there during the times that the romance is not.
3. Schedule and budget for a date night every week once you are married. It's important.
4. Dress cute for your spouse. It's hard to see a person as sexy when they wear their sweats all the time.
5. No opposite sex friends allowed! You may think this person is just a friend, but they will become a threat to your relationship when times are tough. Your spouse should be the only one you are confiding those feelings to.

In a perfect world, no marriage would fail. Everyone would go into it with the right ideas and work through everything that came along. Unfortunately, we live in a fallen world. I really do believe that if both parties work at it from day one, the problems will never be too big to overcome. But sometimes one partner gives up and it takes two to make it work. Sometimes a person can be fooled from the beginning. Everyone makes mistakes. Each situation is unique, and I am not condemning anyone who is in or has been in a failed marriage. My heart goes out to you. I'll never understand, but the hurt must be terrible.

I would like to make an anniversary request. Hug and kiss your spouse. Tell him/her that you love them. Remember what made you fall in love in the first place. If you have stories, share them with me. Here, I will go first.

Michael and I met in 1998 in the music building at the university we were attending. He had a pseudo-girlfriend, but I didn't really care. They were on what she called a "trial break." I still think that was stupid and still think that meant he was fair game. Besides, I didn't even know about her in the first place. He was standing in the hall talking to a mutual friend. I approached and announced that he looked like he needed a hug and proceeded to hug him. We didn't even know each other's names at the time. He asked the friend if he really looked that pathetic. She told him that no, I just thought he was hot. She was right. I obviously got his attention. It's been nearly 10 years since that event, and I still think he's hot. And I apparently still have his attention.

Friday, November 30, 2007

What A Surprise!

I really do try to refrain from making fun of Steven Weber too much. Really, I shouldn't go read what he writes because far too often the temptation to ridicule is just too much. But how could I possibly resist this list? The number one thing this pompous, liberal blogger is thankful for is his thesaurus! I'm not making this up. And this one too:
My ability to become sexually aroused at even the most horrific or banal moments.
Correct me if I am wrong, but did anyone really want to know? Maybe this explains why he writes his column. He's just creating his own horrific moment to share with the world. It's like literary masturbation. (Hmm, first time I've used that word in my blog. Should get some interesting search engine referrals.)

Sorry I've been absent for a couple of days. Been very busy.

UPDATE: Thank you Rachel Lucas for saying it even better

Monday, November 26, 2007

End of the Long Weekend

I took Friday off work and thankfully do not work in a place that is open on Thanksgiving, so I got a four day weekend. Of course, when I am away from the office, stuff breaks. Got my first phone call at 7:30 AM on Friday. Thankfully, that was an easy one. Got the next one at 9:30 AM. One of the 2 ladies had a family emergency and needed to leave. The other was already scheduled to leave at noon. That was also my last call of the day, so I figured whatever happened could be handled after the weekend. It can be. I'm busy but not any more than can be handled.

The weekend was good overall. Thanksgiving with my family was lovely. We gorged on lunch at about 11:30 then grazed all through the afternoon while playing games and laughing. I'm thankful for my family and that we aren't such gluttons the rest of the year. I kept glancing over to where Granddad always sat. It looked empty even when someone else was there, but that was alright in a way. It won't ever feel that his place is filled, but it being empty isn't really a bad thing. Of course I miss him, but I will see him again.

Thursday night, we hosted friends at our house. No one ate since we had all stuffed ourselves at lunch. We just spent time together. My friends are family too. One couple was in from out of town and brought Christmas presents since they won't be back at that time. We shared pictures and caught up on goings on from being apart. They must be pretty special since I actually scrubbed the bathroom in preparation for their arrival.

We did not get up before the crack of dawn on Friday to shop. That would drive me to homicide. My 7:30 call actually woke me up. I didn't get out of bed even then. We did shop a little in the afternoon, and surprisingly, the mall did not make me wish I was carrying my pocket flask. We were supposed to go camping Friday night, but our camping friends chickened out on us due to the cold. Guess we will have to wait to use the new tent. Instead, we had them over to our house. This time I mopped the kitchen floor. (I think I'm going to plan more get-togethers, it's doing wonders for my house.) We grilled shrimp and salmon. My brother-in-law and his wife made guacamole, and the other couple brought spinach and artichoke dip. We laughed and drank and watched Spinal Tap.

Saturday, we got to do one of those things that only homeowners get to do. We repaired our fourth slab leak. While watching the movie the previous night, it began to sprinkle on one guest's head. One of the hot water lines was leaking into the floor vents. Since there was very hot water there, it made our house warm and nicely humid. Unfortunately, since it was so cold outside, it caused condensation on the ceiling around the return vents. And so after we showered in the morning, we cut off the hot water supply and I began to clean up the mess. You gain some unusual talents as a home owner. My newest one is the proper way to mop a popcorn ceiling. It must be done in a blotting motion so as not to strip the popcorn and 30 year old paint. In case you ever need to do it. I also got to employ another strangely useful talent gained during a previous slab leak. I can stick my hand through the vent in the bottom of the kitchen cabinets and cut off a pipe very near the ground. It's rather painful, but it can be done. I did it before when the leak was from the utility closet to the kitchen sink in the cold water line. Same process for the hot. In case you ever need to know, it is possible to shove half inch pex through the original three-quarter inch copper lines. It's difficult and causes the husband to blurt expletives, but it will work and is much cheaper than having a plumber take a jack hammer to your foundation. thankfully, the kitchen and utility closet share a wall, so we ran this line above ground. Still generates some expletives but not as many. Now we have hot water again and dry vents.

Sunday, we decided to go to an earlier service so that we could have lunch with our Sunday school class. They are always a fun group. When we got home from lunch, we decided that we had such great momentum going on the house that we would just keep going. So I scrubbed the shower, bathtub, and the cook top in the kitchen. Trust me, all of these were major jobs. We are not exactly great housekeepers. Hubby sorted through the living room. This was also a major job. He got the living room clean enough to put up the Christmas tree.

It's Monday and back to our regularly scheduled program. It's good to be back, but I sure could've used more weekend.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Snicker worthy news

I've been wanting to write about this for a while, but just haven't for one reason or another. Boy George (yes, I am referring to everyone's favorite pseudo cross-dresser) has been accused of chaining a man in his London apartment. Boy George apparently invited this guy over to pose for some pictures and then kept him imprisoned in his apartment against his will.

I don't know, but I would assume that Boy George is not exactly intimidating to the majority of men. I probably shouldn't, but I am drawing the conclusion that this is one of those pansy sort of guys that spends more time on his hair than I do. This type doesn't generally qualify as a 'man' in my book. First of all, I don't know any self respecting man that would go home with Boy George for 'pictures' (because we all know that's all the invite was about). Secondly, if a real man found himself if Boy George's apartment, he would get out. Candy chains with fuzzy cuffs are not actual restraining devices. And finally, if due to being drugged or otherwise unable to prevent finding himself chained in Boy George's apartment, upon release would never speak of said event again. Not a peep. I know there are a couple of men that read this--Am I wrong about any of this? But not this guy. He goes home with Boy George, allows himself to be tied up and whatever else we won't mention, and then goes and tells the police. Can you imagine how hard it had to be for the detective to take his statement without laughing in his face? These images make me laugh. But I have been accused of having a rather twisted sense of humor.

Speaking of things that shouldn't make me laugh, how about the antics of the Catholic Church? Apparently there is a lot more at risk in the upcoming presidential race than the possible election of a harpy shrew. You risk your very soul (said in my best creepy horror movie voice). Forget grace! Apparently an ill thought vote can damn you to hell. Wow. I had no idea. Here I am attempting to judge the candidates on the basis of how well they could do the job of president and Whammo! apparently my salvation hangs in the balance as well.

Oh wait! I'm not Catholic! Whoopee! Whew, that's a huge load off my shoulders. Now I can go back to worrying about the liberal idiots convincing the populace to vote in the harpy chameleon communist.

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Love and loss and stupid emotions

Damn you Rachel Lucas!
I sat on my front porch with my blackberry (yeah, I'm that much of a nerd) and cried today because of Rachel Lucas's dog. A dog I have never met owed by a person that I don't really know. I've read her blog and often feel like I know her, but I don't. And dammit I am still crying and running snot like a faucet. I'm gross and red and puffy because she had to put down this dog that she loved so much. It doesn't help that Digger looked an awful lot like my sweet Pepper that I lost a few years ago, but that's really not it. Pepper never got so bad. When she knew that it was her time, she left on her own. Other things in life at the time were unfortunately more pressing and I think on some level she knew that I couldn't deal with her dying at that moment. She climbed the fence with her worn out hips and left to die alone. I looked for her, but I never found her. Not really knowing what happened to her was horrible. She had been my dog since I was 16. She had been the litmus test of boyfriends. If she didn't like them, I didn't need them around. I should have paid more attention to her in that regard. But she loved my husband from the first time she met him. She would actually obey him. I was the only one she had ever obeyed previously. But because life truly sucked at the time of her departure, I never got to really mourn her loss. Sorry for anyone reading this, but that still feels a little too personal to share on the internet. But her blog didn't really make me think about my dog.
I am sitting here bawling in my home office because dammit if Rachel's feelings about the whole thing didn't make me think of Granddad. And yeah, I know that sounds really stupid. But when she talked about how hard it was to leave Digger alone in that room at the vet's office, I saw Granddad. All alone in his hospice room. We had packed up all of our things, and everyone was ready to go to my aunt's house to just be there with each other. I felt awful just leaving him there alone with these strangers. He was dead. It was just his empty shell. But I still wanted to be with him so that he wouldn't be alone. I know that was just me. I wasn't really ready to let him go. I'm still not. He wasn't alone at all. He was finally and completely free of pain. It was wonderful for him, and it still is. He isn't alone. It's me that lost him. I'm the one that still wants to hear the stories he had to tell even though most I had heard a thousand times. I'll probably always want just one more. He looked so small, and that's not who he is in my memories. Only his hands looked the same. Taking him to hospice care was the right decision, but I am so glad I didn't have to be the one to make it. His first day there, he told me that he was still going to fight, but the truth of the matter was that the battle had already been lost. He was in hospice so they could keep him comfortable while he died. He made the decision to go himself. But while he was there he begged for all of us to get him out of that bed and give him a chance to live. He couldn't get out of the bed. If we had ignored everything and gotten him up, he would have collapsed in agony. His back was broken. He was riddled with cancer. There really was no more that could be done. We buried him not long ago. The box was far too small to hold the man that he had been. His body was cremated and buried just 2 feet below the ground.
It's amazing to me that love is so boundless. The grief for a lost pet is no less real than the loss of a person. It seems that it should be. But the pain really is the same. While Granddad was dying, I lost my pet betta. I made the comment to my friends on the daily kitten that it just seemed so small. It really felt like the least of my worries considering everything else going on. But Lynn said to me, "Nothing you love in whatever capacity, is small. So sorry for your loss MM. Love Lynn." I'm not sure I really loved that fish. I've loved fish before, but I didn't really form a true attachement to that one. But the sentiment is so very, very true.
I'm so blessed to know God. As a Christian, I know that God is love. I know from experience that love is boundless even in my limited capacity. I can really love the dog and the owner of said dog when in reality, I don't know them. I can be loved by the amazing community on the daily kitten when I don't know them in the real world. I'm not sure they know how much their comments and prayers have meant to me. And I have these amazing people that I have met in the blogosphere. Like Megan from CastoCreations. I got the opportunity to reach out to her and share some pretty raw emotions. Love isn't limited to our households or our families or even to our species.
Rachel, I don't know if you will ever read this. I hope you do, and I also hope that you understand that although I would love for you to find God, I am not attempting to convert you. You have asked before why Christians choose to be Christian and not something else, and that is a really good question. I'm a Christian because God is love. The love that is being poured out from your commenters; I believe that is God. The undefinable, unexplanable arms that embrace you at that moment when you are at your lowest; that's God. God understands when no one else does. At least, the God I believe in does. He understands because he created all of it. And He understands my doubts when I am in the dark places. The muslim god doesn't. Budda doesn't. Only my Christian God does. No one else's god is love. I cannot fathom a world that just created itself by chance. And because we as His creation have such an amazing capacity to love, our creator must have even more. I will continue to pray for you. This loss is great because you have loved. Thank you for the opportunity to love you too. (In a completely non-gay sort of way)

Friday, November 16, 2007

Why won't the liberal bloggers strike too?

There is a reason that writers write and actors recite. And Steven Weber is that reason. Check out this gem from a recent posting of his.
It's the poison in the toy beads from China; it's the underfunded and underarmored soldiers in Iraq; it's the jaw dropping succession of cronies in government; it's the ping-ponging economy and the disingenuous disavowals of it's instability; it's the incessant enforced obsolescence of technology; it's the mercenaries for hire deployed to fight unnecessary wars; it's the corrupt and deceitful attorney generals; it's the abandoned hunt for the perpetrators of terror; it's the shrugging off of the anthrax scare; it's the rising oil prices; it's the housing crisis; it's the squandering of the trillion dollar surplus into the trillion dollar debt; it's the unending obfuscation and smirking and shrugging.
It's the frightening shortage of periods; it's the over use of semi-colons; it's run-on sentence that will change the world.

In one, apparently large, breath he whines about mercenaries in 'unnecessary wars' then complains about the 'abandoned hunt for the perpetrators of terror.' I think he just thumbed through his copy of Liberal Moonbat Talking Points for Dummies which he keeps with his other most treasured possession, a thesaurus. He's apparently skipping through the alphabet in search of new words. Today he read D and O but found nothing better that 'ping-ponging' when he got to P. I could go on and on, but English teachers are already vomiting on their shoes.

If this isn't proof that Hollywood needs writers, then I don't know what is. Everyone should be warned. This is what happens when you give an actor, previously relegated to no more than two syllable words in his scripts, permission to write. As Mr. Weber puts it-
They need to strike because they view the world from ground level level as opposed to lofty heights where the usurers dwell. They know that desiring the same thing their masters have in spades, that by kneecapping the creators of content, the hewers of material, the sculptors of tools, by undercutting the quality of the product in order to secure even greater yields, they would virtually ensure the end of, dare I say, all we profess to hold dear in this country.
Yeah, I could've said it better myself, but then I couldn't laugh at his pompous wording. Yes, all we hold dear. We want our entertainment, and we want it now!

Please Hollywood, pay the writers what they are worth or we will be subjected to more drivel from the actors usurping the empty writers' desks. It's too late to stop Steven Weber, but maybe this abomination of journalism could be prevented in the future.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

Political correctness gone too far

This article, posted here in it's entirety for your convenience (and to keep you here because there is nothing more you need to know), made me giggle.

SYDNEY (AFP) - Santas in Australia's largest city have been told not to use Father Christmas's traditional "ho ho ho" greeting because it may be offensive to women, it was reported Thursday.

Sydney's Santa Clauses have instead been instructed to say "ha ha ha" instead, the Daily Telegraph reported.

One disgruntled Santa told the newspaper a recruitment firm warned him not to use "ho ho ho" because it could frighten children and was too close to "ho", a US slang term for prostitute.

"Gimme a break," said Julie Gale, who runs the campaign against sexualising children called Kids Free 2B Kids.

"We are talking about little kids who do not understand that "ho, ho, ho" has any other connotation and nor should they," she told the Telegraph.

"Leave Santa alone."

A local spokesman for the US-based Westaff recruitment firm said it was "misleading" to say the company had banned Santa's traditional greeting and it was being left up to the discretion of the individual Santa himself.

Next thing you know, they will be going after the Jolly Green Giant! Children find many reasons to be frightened of shopping mall Santas. Pretty sure that even with the stench of cheap booze, the thought has never crossed their impressionable minds that Santa is really a pimp calling out for new recruits. Personally, I find most hired Santas rather disturbing, but since the term 'ho' doesn't apply to me, I am not offended. The *ahem* ladies that the term does apply to are probably not so worried about Santa.

Seriously some people deserved to be slapped. Maybe they would grow thicker skins.

And here's a barely related tasteless joke for you:

Did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshiper?
He sold his soul to Santa

Monday, November 12, 2007

Veteran's Day

I'm going to re-pot my giant peace lily today. Bought a brand spankin' new pot this weekend. I still wish I didn't have it though. It was a bereavement gift from my office from when Granddad passed away.

Granddad wasn't going to join the army, but when WWII started felt it was his duty. He signed up over his mother's objections so that he could be a man. Granddad fought under General Patton. He traveled in Belgium, Germany, Switzerland, and finally France. When the doctor asked him what he'd done in the military, Granddad's answer was that he walked. He was infantry, so I am sure that was pretty accurate. Here is a letter written May 24th, 1945 to his parents while he was in Neumark, Germany.
“Dear Parents;

We have been having April Showers the last few days. They just lifted censorship today, so will try and tell you a little about what I have been doing the past few weeks.

I joined the company west of the Rhine River a little bit around the 25th of March and we saw the other outfits getting ready to cross and we were ready. We didn’t know when we were going to cross but we knew it was going to be soon and one night we heard all hell break loose and it was another outfit crossing. Then we began to feel better right quick because we knew we weren’t going to have to make the river crossing. Then in a day or two they put us on the alert and the trucks came that night and we crossed the river and bridge that the engineers had built and rode all that night and until about noon the next day. Hen we started walking and we walked until late that night and settled down in foxholes for about two hours, but that was our only night in a foxhole.

The next day we were starting through a town which had out several white flags and hell broke loose. I was in the rear. I stayed there. Company headquarters always stayed back. Then when we finally got into the town I saw a lot of good Germans on the ground. We kept walking for several days, then one evening we started across an open field in order to come into a town on the backside by the woods and hell broke loose again and we had left one platoon back to guard another town. Several men were gone for several reasons. At least we had only 59 men at the time and there wasn’t supposed to be many Germans in the town, but we took 145 prisoners and there were a lot of good ones there and the medics were busy all night taking care of the wounded Germans. The whole company went in together because we had to have all the men we could get. In just a few days we got the tanks with us and after that we did pretty good for a day or two. Then, the airplanes started one day. We were arguing whether they were theirs or ours. They were up in the air quite a ways and we couldn’t tell for sure, and in a minute we found out they were strafing, bombing, too. But every truck had a machine gun on it that got rid of them in just a little bit. Then they came along every evening for about a week, but we had the A.A. (Army Air Force) with us by then and they did not bother us much that way.

I have had a lot of other experiences too, but will tell them when I get home, which I hope isn’t far off, I don’t know.

Right now I am just a short ways from Leipzig in a small town named Neumark. We have two prison camps now and are discharging them right and left.

Well, I have told about enough for once, so had better close for now.

Love, Gerald

Gerald had been selected as assistant orderly by his captain.

Copied from THE GRENOLA GAZETTE Thursday, June 21, 1945 #25

Once the war was over, he went on to be a guard for a POW camp in Paris. He treated the POWs as equals. He knew they had been drafted into the war and were just doing their jobs. They loved him too. I've mentioned before about them making him gifts and rebuilding his tent. He used to say that he probably had the warmest tent in all of Paris that winter. In all the years I knew him, he never had a single negative thing to say about the German troops. Mostly he just said that they were good people.

That's just who Granddad was. Shortly after the Berlin wall came down and it was announced that the Cold War was over, we all went to an air show. It was a huge event because for the first time, there were Russian planes and pilots at the show. Everyone was nervous about meeting them....well that's not entirely accurate. Everyone except Granddad. He walked right up and shook his hand. Treated him like an old friend that had been away for too long.

This Veteran's Day, I remember Granddad and those like him. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be sitting in this office, my desk covered in pizza. I wouldn't be able to write a blog about whatever I wanted. I wouldn't have the opportunity to gripe about the idiots in and running for public office.

And let us not forget those veterans who have not yet claimed their final reward. There are guys like my dad. He was in the air force during Vietnam. He worked in Thailand as a fuel systems specialist. And there are many young men and women putting their lives on the line for us right now. They don't have the luxury to sit at their computers and peruse the blogosphere. They are far too busy making sure that we can.

While you are reading, here are a couple of lovely Veteran's Day entries made by some blogging friends of mine that I have run across today and think deserve your attention.
Happy Veteran's Day by Instinct at Life in 3D
All Gave Some at Casto Creations
And of course, Michael Yon always deserves a read. The Old New Way tells you what our modern day veterans are doing every day. Today is no exception.

Friday, November 9, 2007

Upon the Altar of Professional Sports

Any one that knows me, knows I'm not a sports fan. You can be. That's fine. I have no problem with people choosing whatever entertainment makes them happy. What I do have a problem with, is society raising sports up onto a ridiculous pedestal.

And so, I am incredibly impressed with Citizens for More Important things. Unfortunately, they have been so successful in dealing with their problem that it is coming to my home. Mr. Van Dyk, we have chatted before, and I am sure we will again. For anyone not aware, the Seattle Sonics (soon to be the Oklahoma City Sonics) got tired of their arena. And who can blame them? I mean it was built way back in 1994 for the bargain price of $74 million. So they want a new one. No problem! Professional basketball is multi-billion dollar industry, surely they can afford to upgrade their facilities.

Yep, there's the problem. The new owner, Clay Bennett, threatened the city of Seattle that he would move the team unless the city built them a new arena. He thinks basketball is so very important that tax dollars should be spent to give these guys with million dollar salaries a nicer place to play. Apparently they don't generate enough revenue from ticket sales to pay for it themselves. My response, too bad. And the people of Seattle seem to feel the same way. Chris Van Dyk and the others at Citizens for More Important Things, got the measure to a vote, and the people said 'no.' Lawmakers in Seattle tried to scamper around the voters to fund it anyway, and still it was stopped. Kudos to you in Seattle! David Stern, the NBA commissioner, says they won't even get another team. Not only that, but he's been whining about it.
"To have the speaker of the house say well, they just spend too much money on salaries anyway, so we need it for other things," Stern said, casts aspersions on the whole league's operations. "We get the message. Hopefully, maybe cooler heads will prevail."
Yes, it does 'cast aspersions' on their operations. Professional sports are entertainment. These things are not necessary. I've yet to see Brad Pitt campaigning for tax dollars to build a new studio. He makes millions of dollars because people buy tickets to see him perform. Movie theaters are built by private corporations to generate income by entertaining people. I cannot see any reason why professional sports are any different.

Let's put it another way. If the vast majority of the planet was wiped out tomorrow, and you were left with the agonizing decision to save the life of a brilliant doctor or someone very skilled at throwing a ball through a hoop, who do you save? I can promise you that 10-point shot fired in the last 5 seconds of any game is not going to set the compound fracture in your femur.

Tax dollars should be spent in a way that benefits the community. Education, hospitals, public parks etc. A profit generating machine should be paying taxes, not being paid by them. People should be left to set their own priorities in what non-necessary, entertainment they chose to invest their hard earned money. This should not be left up to lawmakers.

And so, I applaud Seattle for not laying their children across the altar of professional sports. I just hope they send some torches my way while I gather my pitchfork.

Thursday, November 8, 2007

A Little Girl's Dreams

I don't know, but I assume that most adoptive parents want to make a child's dreams come true. Well this lady did it, but it wasn't the kind of dream you would hope for.
She took to writing stories about her toy tiger, Stripes, and asked Julie if she would like to hear one.

"In this one, Stripes was living with a nasty adoptive mother who threw him out on the street saying: 'Get away you naughty cub, you can't come back here.' Luckily, all was not lost because Stripes found his birth mummy.

Unfortunately for this little girl, she doesn't get to go back to her birth mummy. But she was dumped by her adoptive mother.

I am so very sorry that this 7 year old girl from Tanzania who knows nothing but pain and abandonment came with some issues. Shocking that one year doesn't create a perfectly well-adjusted child. This little girl has never really had love and security and yet she was expected to know how to show it to her adoptive mother. Rather than invest the necessary time and energy to this special needs child, this lady gave her back. Who knew that children came with a satisfaction guarantee? I worry about her birth daughter. What happens when she gets to those difficult teenage years? Not only will she have to deal with normal teenage angst, but an underlying fear that when her mother doesn't feel that she is 'getting anything back' out of the relationship, that she will be dumped like her short-term sister. The psychological repercussions for both of these children is astounding.

I know, I wrote something heartwarming and something to tick you off all in one day. I wasn't going to write this one because Rachel Lucas has already expressed the outrage, but I couldn't say enough in the comments.

This Photo is Amazing

Wow! Please, click the photo and go to the story. I kid you not, I was blown away.

This photo is amazing because of what it is. Yes, the color balance and composition are visually pleasing, but what you are seeing here are Muslims and Christians placing a cross on St. John's in Baghdad. It gives me chills. All we hear about in the news is the hate and separation. We only see this from independent journalists like Michael Yon.

Until today, I had never ever heard of him. This guy is actually traveling with a combat unit in Iraq telling the real story from behind the lines. He is supported entirely by his readers. He believes that these stories need to be told, and I agree completely.

Iraq is still a scary place, but it is getting better in spite of what the mainstream media would have you believe. Check this out from this past Easter.
During the mass, Shiite Muslim leader Ammar al-Hakim, son of the head of Iraq's most powerful Shiite political organization, walked into the church. Father Louis al-Shabi, the chief priest at St. Joseph, escorted al-Hakim to a seat near the alter.

"Sheik al-Hakim came to join us in our celebrations as we mark this feast," al-Shabi told the worshippers. "We welcome this visit as a display of unity among the Iraqi people."

Al-Hakim responded, "We are all the sons of Iraq, and we should put our hands together to build this country. We are confident that the Iraqi people will come out of this crisis and our pain will end."

If that doesn't instill some kind of hope, you've been watching too much doom and gloom liberal news.

Saturday, November 3, 2007

Ferrule's Vet Visit

Had to take Ferrule to the vet on Thursday. He had a ruptured abscess on his left rear leg. Ewe!

So here's how Thursday went. First there was the big news mentioned in the previous blog entry. Then we had a conference with Isaac's teacher. It actually went pretty well. Isaac is a bright kid, but he has trouble with his schoolwork and is sometimes a problem in class. He is improving though. That was at 5:30. We finished there at about 10 til 6.

When we left the school, we ran home to get the cat for his 6 o'clock appointment with the vet. Before the parent/teacher conference, I had run home and harnessed the Ferrule and shut him in the bathroom since I am an idiot and had left the borrowed pet taxi at work. So we ran by the house and I hooked the leash to Ferrule's harness and we were off! To Ferrule, the outdoors is very, very frightening so he began to scream and fight as soon as we crossed the threshold of the house. I suppose in some part of his mind, he remembers the hard life of a feral cat that he lived for the first 5 weeks before moving into the spoiled luxury of the Meezer house. So by the time I had made it the short distance from the front door to the car, he was in full panic mode.

So we got out on the road. Ferrule went into full throated, big diaphragm, Siamese yowls. If we had cracked a window, we could have pulled over traffic. Thankfully, the vet's office is only a block away. Before getting out of the neighborhood, my mother called my cell phone. She was meeting us at the vet's office to pick up Isaac since he was out of school on Friday. She has had a Siamese too and understood the yowl quite well. She was already there and waiting. I told her she would hear us coming. Upon arrival at the office, Ferrule decided that the torture device on wheels (the car) was much safer than anything in that complex must be and so therefore attached himself to the underside of my seat. I extracted his claws from there and removed him from the car. He immediately grabbed the nearest thing, me. We shouted our goodbyes to Isaac and my mother over his yowls and entered the office.

Once inside, he crammed himself behind my husband, of whom he is normally terrified. But when we go to the vet, I guess he assumes that the big scary guy from the house is scary to all the strangers too. Then he proceeded to empty 5 bladders worth of urine between the cushions of the couch. I'm not kidding. The nurse even commented about the volume as it was running out on the floor. By some miracle, it missed hubby's designer sport coat.

Then it was off to the exam room where he hid under the chair. When the vet came in, I dug him out and placed him on the table. The doctor checked him out, said we did the right thing by cleaning out the gross ruptured abscess, and went to get his vaccinations. While the doctor was gone, Ferrule put his front paws on my shoulders, yelled in my face, and began to poop on the exam table. Guess he got self conscious when the nurse came in because he only got one tiny turd out. The vet laughed at him and gave him his shots.

Off we go to the front desk where he thought he might finish the pooping business. One hit the desk, two hit the floor before I got him to the adjacent toilet where he could finish the job properly. I'm sure we made quite an impression on the new vet.

He's been taking his antibiotics like a champ and is doing much better now. I am sure the staff at the vet's office are still talking about him. They will probably call on Monday; we will see if they are still laughing.

Thursday, November 1, 2007

I have news! I have news!! With Long awaited update

But I can't tell you what it is yet because it has not been officially announced. Stay tuned for updates. It's good news!!

UPDATE: Sorry it took so long to update you. I got a promotion and raise! Hooray! It was announced to the group just before we left on Thursday. I didn't want to risk my team finding out before it was official. They are really awesome and deserve better than that. Thursday evening was eventful (will write a separate entry for that) and Friday was busy.

The promotion is a little bittersweet because it comes on the heels of my boss leaving. I really likes working with him and will miss him a lot. He is moving on to bigger and better things though and I wish him the best. I did not move into his old position. I am now the AR Supervisor with 2 team members reporting directly to me. They will be filling his old position at a manager level but not real soon. I am very excited and will enjoy working with the people I have been given. They are both very talented, and I think they will do well.

Friday was busy at work because one of my team members already had the day off and the other called in sick. Yikes! That meant I was the AR department for the day. Guess I got to prove that I really do know how to do all the jobs within my department as well as close out the previous month. I did it, but it wasn't fun. I'll be really glad to have my team back on Monday.

Friday night was our First Friday's wine share, so we didn't get home until late. Thus the delay on the update. Very sorry. Especially to Kirsten. Didn't really intend to hold you in suspense for so long. So have a glass of virtual champagne and celebrate with me.

Wednesday, October 31, 2007

My Halloween costume (With Update)

First, the real Trinity

Then me

UPDATE: Well I got second place in the contest. Go me! Who got first you ask?

Goth Brooks!!

Monday, October 29, 2007

Breaking news

Alright, it's just more celebrity gossip that struck me as funny. Ah the NSync closet! Not that I really want to know what secrets lie in its frilly depths, but this just made me giggle and snort.


And now that I have your attention.....

I read this today. It's all about the tramping up of pre-teen girls for Halloween. I will concede that they have a point. Luckily I do not have a daughter and so don't have to find a creative solution to this problem. I do, however, have a son who is probably about to see far more of his peer's flesh than I am really comfortable with. And with childhood obesity on the rise, that is bound to miles and miles of kiddie skin.

But unlike the article, I blame the whiny lazy parents. If your 10 year old comes waltzing out of your house on Halloween night looking like she should be gracing the windows of Amsterdam's red light district, it's your fault. The retailers couldn't sell them if parents wouldn't buy them. I know, even with the best efforts, kids will disobey their parents. Mine does. But for this particular night, you've had a few opportunities to prevent the junior Lolita from heading out on the town. The article states:
But how do you compromise with a kid who's begging to be a saucy witch when all you want to do is go back to the days when she wanted to be a lion cub or a Teletubby? There's no easy answer for that question.
Really? I think there is. I know in this day and age of progressive parenting that it has become unpopular, but you can tell your children 'No'. They will still love you once the fit is finished. Here's a bonus for you, they will actually respect you more. You will have the opportunity to become friends with your offspring once you have successfully shepherded them into adulthood. Parenting is a big job and you will make mistakes, don't complicate the matter by trying to be your child's friend right now. So here's how I propose the conversation should go at the store--

Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! (insert extra blinks-it's a skill little girls use on dads) I found the perfect costume. Will you buy it for me Daddy? Pleeeeeeeaaaaase! (drawn out to further wrap dad around finger)
DAD: Let me see honey. (holds up 3 strips of fabric and a tiara) What is this supposed to be?
CHILD: It's Tramp-A-Rella Daddy! She's only the coolest crime fighting superhero. Duh. All the girls at school are gonna be so jealous. Oh yeah! I'm gonna need make-up too.
DAD: But Princess, where's the rest of it? I'm not going to spend 40 bucks on a costume that's missing pieces. Why don't you see if you can find the pants?
CHILD: *giggle. Daaaaddy, Tramp-A-Rella doesn't wear pants.
DAD: Oh I see. Then let's find something else. Tramp-A-Rella isn't really an appropriate costume for an 8 year old.
CHILD: But Daddy! All the girl......
DAD: (interrupting) No.
CHILD: (with tears) You never let me have anything cool. I don't like you anymore.
DAD: I'll get over it. And so will you. Besides, I think Princess Fiona would be more appropriate for your...uh...figure.
CHILD: But I want to be Tramp-A-Rella!
DAD: I said 'No.' Now you have 2 choices, find something that covers more than half of your body, or don't dress up for Halloween.

Whimpering will continue, but the argument is over. She might ask Mom, but that takes a whole different bag of tricks. She went to Dad in the first place because daddies are typically easier targets for little girl's manipulations. I don't have a little girl, but I was one once. I even asked my dad if he ever got a back ache from being wrapped around my little finger.

If somehow, the tramp-suit does make it to your home. Or if she decides to modify a perfectly respectable costume, you still don't have to let her leave the house in it.

For only a short period in our children's lives, we parents hold the cards. We provide transportation and the finances for every aspect of their lives. It is during this time that we get to attempt to instill some values in our children. I am by no stretch of the imagination the world's best mom. I don't bake cookies. I don't host cute parties with hats. I dread parent teacher conferences. Really, I don't like children (besides my own; I have a bias). I am only concerned with the little princesses because one day, my son will want to bring one home, and I want the future mother of my grandkids to have a solid head on her shoulders.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

The Rage and the Pride

I can add absolutely nothing to the words of Oriana Fallaci. This will take time to read, but it is worth the investment. I will not attempt to summarize it.

I wish citizens of the United States felt so strongly about our country. Too many people have forgotten who they are. Or at least who they are supposed to be. The ever-tolerant liberals scream at perceived injustices. They would be very quick to ridicule me for refusing to clothe myself in bed sheets out of respect for these invaders. Don't misread my meaning. Those of differing views are welcome to practice them. They are not welcome to force me to do so. But I am straying from my point.

The radicals that we are fighting do not simply have different views from ours; they want to force their ideals upon us. They would rip the fabric of our nation in the rape of our precious freedoms Given their way, they would convert the world. Those that refused to convert would be executed. Their bodies defaced in service to a vengeful god. These radicals speak only the language of violence. Our freedom to practice whatever religion we choose makes them hate us more. The very freedom that allows people to speak out against this war makes these radicals want to kill us. Why should we be so encouraged to respect a culture that holds ours in such disdain?

I believe that all people are children of God. But belief in my God makes me an infidel and worthy of death to these radicals. (Notice I am not making these accusations against all Muslims) No matter how much I could love an accept the Osama bin Laden's of the world, these people will still want me dead. All because I have the freedom to not bow down to their god.

Seventeen Oklahoma lawmakers are taking heat for refusing a gift. That gift was a Quran. Rex Duncan's reason:
"Most of them, like all of most groups, are peaceful, law abiding citizens. But I would just simply like for some of those folks to come out publicly in opposition to the small group of radical Muslims who are doing terrible things in the name or religion," Duncan said.

And did they take the opportunity to denounce the violence publicly, no.
In response, the council's chairwoman reiterated that Islam is a religion of peace.
Instead they repeated what we've heard time and time again. It's not hard to find a Christian appalled by the crusades. Mr. Duncan even stated that most are peaceful, law abiding citizens. And yet, they will not say that the actions of a few radicals are wrong. The silence speaks volumes.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

Ack Zombies!

Mindless drones wandering the city in search of brains! Hub has a fantastic article about how to be prepared for the eventuality of a zombie invasion. You can never be too careful.

Unfortunately, I find the article a little lacking. I mean, what if the zombie is in the form of an over-bleached, over-tanned trophy wife? It could happen. Just look here. That must be the explanation. She's a zombie. She keeps buying clothes and Starbucks, but what she really needs are brains. Delicious brains.

So the question here is what to do about this particular kind of zombie. Sturdy scissors are the solution. When she comes at you with her credit cards, simply slice up the worthless plastic. She'll be reduced to a shrieking pile of make-up and silicone, and you can walk away unscathed.

Don't worry about her six kids, the marker-wielding liberals will take care of them. It's all about the chiiiiillldren! Or so they say. Really they are just churning out entitlement hungry zombies. (See, I got back to the zombie point)

These are easy to conquer. Take their food stamps and give them lawn mowers or dust mops. This eliminates both the welfare zombies and the illegal-immigrant zombies in one swoop.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

October 23, 1978

Yep, it's my birthday. That's the actual date of my emergence from my mother. Do the math, I'll wait.
Are you finished? Or has the school system failed. Here's another minute.
Don't you hate it when people add superfluous spaces? And make you do math while reading a blog? That's just wrong. I'll stop. I'm 29 today. Yep, the first time too. I'm told it will be the first of many times that I turn 29. That is, once I convince them that I'm not kidding. As of today, I'm not afraid of turning 30 or 40 or anything else. That may change in the next 364 days, or 10 years and 364 days, I just don't know. What annoys me is that everyone laughs when I tell them that I am 29 today. Seriously people. Do I look enough older than 29 that I should have any business lying about my age? The profile pic was taken last year; I don't think I look that much different but I will try and get a more recent one for your enjoyment.

So Happy Birthday to me! Yada. Yada. Yada. Didn't get me a gift? That's okay. I accept random donations. It's not tax deductible.

Monday, October 22, 2007

JK Rowling is a Pimp

Yep, I said it. You know why? Because she is whoring out one of her characters for a little publicity.
Harry Potter fans, the rumors are true: Albus Dumbledore, master wizard and Headmaster of Hogwarts, is gay.
Here's the story. Apparently, this is news. It has absolutely no bearing on the character and frankly, I think making it an issue cheapens the story somehow. You know, during the hours I spent reading these books, I never once wondered whether Albus Dumbledore preferred inies or outies. Now I have the answer to a question that I never even thought about asking.

Honestly, I don't want to know the details of what anyone wants to do with another consenting adults. I certainly don't care about the private life of a fictional character.

Well Mr Headmaster-Wizard, you better get out there and earn mama some more money before she has to slap you around. And let that be a lesson to all the young witches and wizards, Ms. Rowling wants her bling.

They stole it from us. The precious

Nope, not about Lord of the Rings in any way shape or form. Just me griping about unnatural time.

In March of this year, an hour was hijacked. That's right. Stolen while we slept. No one even left a note. I would have paid the ransom. But no. They stole it from us with promises that it would be returned in November. They make it sound like my precious hour is going on an extended vacation. I'm sure in reality they are keeping it a little room with no sunlight and only bread and water for sustenance. Right now, it's probably being subjected to daily water torture. Just wait until the pictures come out.

It's a conspiracy I tell you! They are trying to control us. It's much harder to think clearly when haven't had enough sleep. And the extra snoozing just eats up the time when hubby could make espresso. Instead, I have to drink the G.A.A.C. (Generally Accepted As Coffee) at the office. This is why people bring guns to work! I know it's true, here's the biblical reference:
If you shout a pleasant greeting to your neighbor too early in the morning, it will be counted as a curse! Proverbs 27:14
Words to live by, don't you think?


Was having a conversation about Jack-O-Lanterns. This was what we did last year. Don't know how I'm going to top that this year.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Judge of Character

I always chide myself for reading some gossip story about celebrities. That is, until I find a real gem like this piece. Scroll past the thing about Britney's underwear (or lack thereof), there it is! I could really care less about Owen Wilson being on or off the wagon. This is the part that makes me giggle:
Won’t somebody please listen to Courtney Love?!....“Night in the Museum” co-stars are hanging together once again, despite Courtney’s warnings.
Ha! Ha! Ha! What kind of a person do you have to be for Courtney Love to call you a bad influence? This Steve guy must really be trouble. Hmm, who should one ask about staying clean and sober? Well Courtney's certainly spent the time researching rehab and how not to do it, maybe she really is the expert.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Whiny lazy parents

I read this today and just got annoyed. If you don't want to follow the link, it's a story about parents fears, sex offenders, and trick-or-treating. Here's an excerpt
"Obviously, there's something not right in those people's minds. Anyway, so there's no telling what they would want to give to a child or even what they're thinking about when your child goes up to the front door," said Jasan Hazzard.
I agree, sex offenders are scary. But have you ever thought about, I know it's crazy, but going out with your kids? I know, active parenting. It's a lot to ask. I could be wrong, but I am betting that if you are standing two steps behind your child the scary guy isn't going to yank your precious goblin into his home. And if he tried, you could do something about it

You know, when I was a kid, my dad went with me into the neighborhood. It was great. He carried extra bags in his coat and he would carry the overfilled bags for me. I wasn't allowed to eat any of the candy until after I got home and it had been throughly checked by my parents. We walked through the entire neighborhood so there were plenty of calories burned. Same rules apply with my son. We make an event out of it. Hubby and I get dressed up to take the kiddo out for the annual sugar fest. We have fun and we get to spend time together as a family.

But our family has become the minority. Once we have finished our rounds and returned home, we flip on the porch light and welcome the miniature ninjas, witches, and princesses. Our candy solicitors fall mostly into 2 groups:
1. Chubby kids waddling from mom's still running SUV. These kids might become terribly out of breath if forced to actually walk down a whole street. I almost feel guilty giving them such calorie laden treats. That is until I see the porky chocolate stained fingers of the parental chauffeur. I can only hope their poor overworked heart prevents future procreation. At least rescue crews can properly train with these.
2. Kids I have never seen before in the 8 previous Halloweens that I have passed out candy from the same location. A quick glance to the street reveals no parents to be seen. I often wonder how long it would take before they would be missed. I shouldn't, but I always worry about these kids and often watch them heading on down the street until they are out of range. I'm sure I have already invested plenty of my hard earned money in raising them via state programs, is it really so much more to spend an ounce of concern on them?

Attention parents, here's a novel idea. Try parenting. The responsibility is yours, not the state's, not the policeman's, and certainly not your neighbor's. You can look up the addresses of sex offenders in your area, don't send your kid knocking on that door. But that does require you to actually be involved in your kids activities so it's probably asking too much.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Love and Laughter

As my regular readers are aware, it's been a rough time for my family lately. Granddad passed away around 3 o'clock on Thursday October 11th. He will be greatly missed by us all. I've been told by a few people that reading my entries through this whole thing has been comforting to them. I'm so glad. I've drawn a lot of comfort from the support offered to me by so many of you.

Since Thursday, my aunt and uncle opened up their home to all of us. It's served as the base where food is delivered and serves as some insulation from the outside world. As much as I appreciate the concern, there are only so many times I want to answer the question, "How are you doing?" and "Are you okay?" Not to mention, "Is there anything I can do?" I am doing as well as can be expected. Honestly, even though I had been preparing for this, it has still been a lot harder than I thought. There is something you can do, keep us in prayer. If you want to do something in addition to that, the family has asked that donations be made to Odyssey House or the American Cancer Society. By no means do I want anyone to refrain from showing their concern, but it is nice to have a haven from it.

I don't know how it is with other families, but there haven't been a lot of tears when we are all together. We've brought in everyone's photo albums which have been strewn about my aunt's living room and den. She and my mother are scanning select pictures to be made into a slideshow for the memorial service. The rest of us have been sitting around looking through the albums and reminiscing about wonderful stories. There are several pictures that I had never seen and stories that I had never heard. There's lots of laughter and the love is tangible.

In one album were sketches that I had heard about, but never previously seen. I will be getting copies. These are beautiful pencil sketches done by POWs after WWII. Two of Granddad and 2 of the office they built for him. Granddad was over a POW camp in France. Granddad always treated these men as equals. He knew they had been drafted into the war just like he was and never treated them as enemies. The men loved him for it. They built him his own office, made him a clock, and crafted an ashtray out of artillery shells that is in my mother's living room today. The clock was stolen by a GI that was charged with making sure it got home. The POWs shipped the ashtray and that actually made it back. He treated those men with dignity which they returned to him. I don't believe Granddad ever met an enemy, just peers that happened to be on the opposing side.

Yesterday my cousin, who has an inborn gift for children, brought sugar cookie supplies. Her 2 year old son and my 8 year old son made cookies. When it came time for sprinkles, he said to my son, "open your mouth" and proceeded to sprinkle directly into my son's mouth. Everyone cracked up. I'm so proud of my son for doing so well with his younger cousins. Actually I am very proud of the way he has handled all of this. Explaining Granddad's death to him was one of the hardest things to do. As he said his prayers the other night he asked that God show Granddad around in heaven so Granddad could show it to us someday. Kids say it so well sometimes.

Tonight, the church is feeding the family. I am looking forward to some more family time. The memorial service is tomorrow afternoon. It's going to be hard. As will the upcoming holidays. But I am really lucky to have my family and my wonderful spouse with me. I think it is better for us to have each other to lean on.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Funniest line I've read in the news

I read a lot of internet news. Many stories come via The Daily Kitten---thank you Dee. I found this one all on my own though. One line made me seriously laugh out loud. Seriously, read this and tell me all about your mental picture.
About 150 police in riot gear went into the compound to find the ex-nuns defiantly singing religious songs and playing instruments, Puzewicz said.
Good thing the 150 police wore their riot gear! Can you imagine the possible consequences. Being smacked with a tambourine is sure to sting. Kum-by-WHAM my Lord, Kum-by-SMACK......We all know the havoc that would create in the little Polish town.

This line makes me laugh so hard I nearly peed myself. As if the riot gear part wasn't enough, he says they were "defiantly singing religious songs and playing instruments" Oh man, that's rebellious. That may have corrupted to locals that were sneaking them food. Shield your children!

And the scene ended this way.
Hours later, after mild resistance and insults from the ex-nuns and the intervention of psychologists, about 65 defeated ex-nuns, escorted by policewomen, walked out calmly in their black habits — some carrying guitars, others tambourines or small drums — and boarded buses.

I'm so glad this public threat was removed. They had guitars people! Don't you understand the imminent danger? Better send in 2 riot geared cops for each nun and a few extra just to be safe.

Whew, I'm so glad my tax dollars go to pay for public health care for kids that are too good for public schools instead. (Thank you Michelle Malkin) Oops! I slipped something political in there. Just when you thought it was safe. Hey everyone! Chain smoke: it's for the children!


I want to give an update, but there really isn't much to give. They were unable to get a blood pressure reading this morning. It will probably be today. I'll go up there tonight.

It's 3:25 pm. I just got the call. He's gone

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Beautiful Moment

May the road rise to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
The sun shine warm upon your face
The rains fall soft upon your fields
And until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of His hand

Old Irish Blessing. I sang it, through tears, to Granddad last night. That's where I stopped singing. He'd spent the day completely unresponsive, but shed a tear when I finished. The nurse said it was a special gift for me. I think she was right. Prior to that, I wanted to believe that he knew I was there, but I just wasn't sure. I'm so glad I could give that gift to him.

I'm kind of just waiting for the call today. The call telling me that he has gone home. I think his spiritual body and his physical body are separating. That's why the only reaction we got from him was the single tear. It was tearful but beautiful.

Someone brought a kitten for her grandmother to see. Cute little tuxedo guy. Nana snuggled him into her sweater where he purred. It was the most she'd smiled in a while.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

It might be today

Mom called, it might be today. Of course, it might have been Friday, or a week ago at the hospital. Yesterday, the doctor said he would be surprised if Granddad lasted another 2 days. But of course it's not an exact science. Granddad will go when he is good and ready. I won't ever be ready, but I'm as close to ready as I am going to get. Today, he is not responding. Not to Nana or anyone else. They are just giving him regular infusions of pain meds and playing soft music.

I'm not dropping everything and running over there. I kind of want to, but I've done that so much lately. And there's not really anything I could do. For now, I'm staying at work and have apparently forgotten how to eat a sandwich. I seem to have decided to eat it from both ends and work towards the middle. I took a picture, I'll add it later. Sorry about the tangent, I just looked down at my lunch and realized I've suddenly become retarded. Laugh, it's allowed. Healthy actually.

In my heart, I hope it's today. I really hate to say that, but I've set up a pattern of being brutally honest here and don't really plan to change it. I know that the only way for Granddad to stop suffering is to let the angels take him. He told Nana yesterday that he was going with them. Then the rest of us can really mourn his loss as we haven't been able to do yet. And we can refocus and be able to celebrate his life. Can't really do that right now, no clarity.

I'm going tonight. Even though he probably will not know that I am there. That just means he is closer to home.

UPDATE: You guys are really awesome. Extra cool points for all of you. We are picking up pizza and heading down to hospice shortly. With all of us together, may as well make it a party (of sorts). In case anyone is curious, this is the hospice group we are working with. We've dealt with them 3 times in as many years. You can visit their website at